#I refuse to ever tag these properly

[serarambles]

More canon x oc brain rot 🫠

[ladynicte]

New person detected

[nerdie-faerie]

Apparently I timed my quitting perfectly

[catastrophic-crow]

i mean, yeah. to be entirely honest it literally never once occurred to me that it was going to last longer than a season. i think at one point i even thought to myself, "huh. that's... a lot to cover in a few episodes / wonder where they're going to leave it off."

has this been advertised as being an actual adaptation of comparable length?? because that's hilarious.

lest we forget

[musical-chick-13]

I think every so often I might need to reblog The Salty Post that I made a few years ago just to like. Keep everyone alert and get them to think about an under-discussed issue and get the people who refuse to understand off my blog.

[kooberryfields4ever]

greedy

hello !! if you're seeing this again it's bc i've reuploaded it in order to make it a separate post <33 gonna start posting asks/reqs separately so i can tag the link in replies instead!!! tysm for reading!!!

wc: 5851

content warnings: detailed descriptions of insecurity surrounding weight & body image, internalised fatphobia, jungkook also gets insecure & a little toxic during an argument, jungkook is vulgar!!!!!! porn with a little bit of plot, jungkook is a munch, jungkook spanks yn a couple times, piv sex, descriptions of female anatomy, KOOBERRYFIELDS4EVER DISCOVERS A POSITION THAT IS NOT MISSIONARY!!!!!

MDNI !

He notices it in your face first, the way you’ve started to cover your chin in photos he takes of you, choosing to lean against your palm when you pose or asking him to take them from a higher angle. He chalked it up to new trends catching your fancy, never thought much of it. You look pretty, he’d compliment, and you would accept them with a sweet smile before deleting the majority of the photos he took. He had never even considered the fact that not once had you posted to your Instagram in over a month. He notices it next in your tummy, once on display with crop tops or low-rise jeans, now hidden away by baggy cargo pants, hoodies, and sweaters. He never minded. Yes, he misses being able to reach around your waist and stroke his fingers across your stomach, misses the easy access he had to your body and the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact that you’ve taken away from him. But, like his own, your style is always changing. Baggy clothes are in right now. It’s when you start to physically shy away from his touches, shrug off his hands and redirect his kisses that he senses something is really wrong. Sure, trends change, you’ll find new styles and your wardrobe will be endlessly rearranged. He’s sure you’ll find new poses for him to capture in a few weeks' time. Refusing his touch, though? No, never.

You love physical touch. Had said so yourself when Jungkook and you first started speaking, drilled it into his head that if this relationship was to go anywhere then he would have to get used to being your personal body pillow. He would joke that he hated it, would wrestle your hands away from him just to provoke a reaction from you, would sometimes place a pillow between the two of you in bed just to make you sulk so he could make it all better with a cuddle as an apology. Of course, he never really hated it – you were always warmth. Always comfort, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice if he ever needed your touch. You’d card your hands through his hair when he was sad, scratch his scalp and kiss his head. He’d always search for you in cold beds and winter nights, and you’d always meet him with soft giggles and tangled limbs.

So why now, does it seem, that you no longer want him? Why is he met with a cold shoulder when he reaches for you at night? Why is the bathroom door always locked when you shower, when you used to gladly leave it wide open for him? Why do you refuse to eat meals with him, refuse his snacks, refuse to accompany him to the corner store when he wants something quick to eat? He paces the bedroom – ever the overthinker – and questions himself endlessly. The thought of losing you quite frankly makes him sick. He has to sit down, hang his head in his hands. Think. He doesn’t notice the front door opening and shutting, nor the gentle patter of your feet as you make your way through the apartment. Doesn’t hear you greet Bam in the living room with soft coos and gentle pets. He curses inwardly. His mouth is dry. He needs a drink.

When he opens the bedroom door, he’s met with you in a hoodie and leggings. He frowns, can’t help it, his head hurts and the way you immediately curl in on yourself doesn’t help. He sighs, brushing past you with a shake of his head and beelines to the kitchen. He can’t think properly, his mind is absolutely reeling. Feeling unbelievably nauseous, he downs a glass of water in an attempt to stave off the feeling of utter dread in his stomach threatening to release itself from his throat.

“Are you upset with me?” Comes your soft voice from behind him, and his head throbs. Why haven’t you wrapped your arms around his waist, yet? Why are you not massaging his shoulders, kissing his back? He turns to you, places the glass down on the counter beside him, meets your eyes. You look tired, sad even. Jungkook sighs.

“When were you planning on breaking up with me?” He asks abruptly, and you raise your eyebrows in genuine surprise, shaking your head in disbelief.

“What? Where did that even come from?” You fire back, feeling a certain anger rumble in your stomach at the accusation.

“You clearly don’t wanna be with me anymore, so when were you planning on ending it?” He’s surprised at his own combativeness; his hands are shaking when he crosses them against his chest. “Wanted to wait it out a bit? See if the feelings came back?”

“Jungkook, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” you deadpan, furrowing your eyebrows, “what did I do wrong?”

“There’s someone else, right?” He scoffs, and the look of utter horror on your face makes his stomach drop. What is wrong with him? The neurons in his brain are firing all the wrong ways, making him say all the wrong things and feel all the wrong emotions. He’s not angry, never was, never could be – never at you. He’s scared, terrified even.

“Fuck you.” You spit. Jungkook’s never heard such venom in your voice before. Your lip wobbles, a telltale sign of what’s next and he curses himself when a tear slides down your cheek. You dot it away with the sleeve of your hoodie quickly, trying to save face, but Jungkook’s already crowding your space and wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair, rubbing your back and pulling you close to his chest. His heart breaks when you push him away, but he refuses to let you go. “Please, I’m sorry,” he begs, his hand instinctively slipping under your hoodie for the contact he’s been craving so badly, “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” I’m scared, he leaves out. He kisses your head, and you flinch when his fingers run over your waist.

“There’s nobody else, but…” You whisper, gently pushing his hand away from your waist. Jungkook stills, doesn’t mean to move his hand away but does anyway. Takes a step back, in fact. “But, I don’t look good. I’ve been stress eating, and my clothes don’t fit me right, and you barely touch me anymore, and-”

“What?” Is all he can muster, not sure if his face is reading as total disgust, anger, sadness. You’re not sure, either, it seems. You meet his eyes, you look disappointed. “No. Nope.” You gasp when he takes your hand, questioning him when he drags you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. He doesn’t answer when you call his name, doesn’t say a word as he makes you stand in front of your mirrored wardrobe and stands behind you. He’s not even sure himself what he’s doing.

“Jungkook, stop it...” You pout, turning your head to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. This feels like some kind of sick torture technique, you never thought Jungkook could be this cruel.

“No, stop,” he orders, though quietly, his hand reaching around you to grasp your chin and turn your head back towards the mirror, “you don’t see what I see?”

“You’re not being nice.”

“What do you mean I don’t touch you anymore?” He avoids your accusation, has an end goal in mind now and will see it through or die trying. He keeps one hand on your chin, the other sliding over the fabric of your hoodie. He doesn’t want to push you too far but can’t help himself. He hears you sigh; watches the way your eyes avoid the mirror like the plague, like seeing yourself is that agonising. He sighs too. “You never want me to.” He adds on, hopes it’ll coax an answer from you, that maybe you’ll see his side of things.

“Because I don’t want you to feel how big I’ve gotten,” you say, frustration lacing your tone, finding his eyes in the mirror, “I don’t look as nice anymore.” You frown, unable to stop the tears as they slip down your cheeks. “The last time we had sex you wanted me to keep the covers on.”

He frowns too, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You thought I didn’t want to see you? That’s what this is all about?” He releases your chin finally in favour of holding your waist with both of his hands, growing bolder and trailing his touch down to the hem of your hoodie. He sighs when you nod, never known you to be so fragile, so easily convinced. He sees the confliction on your face when his fingers slip under the fabric, wants nothing more than to kiss it away.

“I want you literally all of the time,” he continues, placing a kiss on your neck, grinning when you tilt your head away from him to give better access, “like all of the fucking time. Think about you when I’m at work, when I’m eating, when I’m gaming, I dunno.” He’s fishing for answers, groaning happily against the skin of your neck when, for the first time in weeks, you let him brush his fingers over the much beloved skin of your belly. He doesn’t like your silence, wishes desperately that you would say something, anything, but the look on your face tells him you’re untrusting of his words. Funny. Jungkook truly believes the sun shines out of your ass, but you can’t even believe he finds you beautiful.

“Think about you when I’m in the shower, when I’m brushing my teeth, when I’m doing anything. Wish you’d at least touch me, even if you don’t want me to touch you.” He groans, frustrated at himself for having interpreted all of the signs so wrong. That’s all he seems to be doing today. “You know how much I missed this? Missed running my hands over you, touching your skin, cuddling you? I wake up rock-hard most mornings, and you’re already out of bed, away from me. I never wanna push you too far, and you haven’t been in the mood. Would never push your boundaries.”

“Yeah, except now.” You whisper, and he chuckles. Maybe you’re being serious, he can’t tell, but he likes that you smile too. Likes the sound of your voice.

“Yeah. But it’s okay, right?” He grips your waist, lowering his lips to the sliver of skin he can reach with your hoodie on, the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. “You are the most gorgeous person I know; I thought you knew that. I genuinely couldn’t fathom you believing anything else. I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your skin, kissing back up to your pulse point and nosing your ear, “you’re perfect. Can I take this off? Please?” He practically whimpers, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against your temple. He’s pathetic and hard, he knows you can feel it from behind you. Wants to press himself closer, but doesn’t want to push you.

Your hesitation is obvious, silence thickening the room. He doesn’t watch you now, wants you to see yourself, wants you to make the decision. His hands don’t roam. They sit firmly on your waist, an encouraging weight but nothing more. You think for what feels like forever before turning your face to him, resting your forehead against his own. His eyes open to find yours. They’re sad; his are pleading. He watches you nod so slowly, you’re still unsure but you know he wants this.

He really does. He can feel himself practically drooling when he turns back to the mirror, slipping his hands out from under your hoodie to grasp it. He takes his time, nudges you to look too as he lifts the fabric up over your stomach slowly. His eyes boring into your skin when your navel comes into view, then it’s the skin surrounding your stomach, your soft waist. Your bra finally comes into view, and Jungkook practically growls in your ear, decides to hold a brief intermission so that he can grab one of your tits and run his thumb over where your nipple should be. The fabric is too thick to tell, but you let out a hitched breath anyway and he smiles. He pulls away for only a second to slip the hoodie fully off of your torso, immediately finding your waist and pulling you back into him.

“Look at you, prettiest in the world,” he purrs, can’t help himself when he rolls his hips into the hollow of your back. His hands are gentle when they explore, fingers tiptoeing over your flesh and indenting it softly.

“I look big.” You offer back, part of you desperate to fish for Jungkook’s compliments. He frowns, spanking your hip to scold you before wrapping his arms around you to make a point.

“Wouldn’t be able to do this if you were as massive as you make yourself out to be,” he tuts, kissing the back of your head and resting his lips there, “think you’ll still look tiny sitting on my dick, too. Missed that cute little cunt of yours, pisses me off that you’ve been keeping it from me because of something so fucking trivial.” His voice is husky when he whispers the crude words into your ear, his grip on you becoming rougher but he can’t help it. It’s so infuriating that you would think Jungkook of all people could care about something like that. Makes him feel like a monster, like he’s somehow guilty of upholding this standard for you when realistically, you could look any which way and he would still love you.

He knows he can talk about his own body a bit too much, maybe conversations about his diet and workout routine made you think he was trying to convince you to be the same? Probably doesn’t help that he eats a lot of health foods during busy promotional periods and has a drawer full of supplements to keep his own weight in check. He never meant for any of that to reflect on you, though. You’re perfect in his eyes; with soft skin and ample curves, dimples in your lower back and freckles dotted across your body. He loves finding them, loves drawing the lines to connect them and kissing between the spaces. Loves when he fucks you from behind and his thumbs sit in those dimples like he imprinted them himself, makes him feel like you were truly made for him, like your body is moulded for him to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He’s too busy in his own head to notice when you wrap your arms around your middle to hide yourself from him, how scared you look at the prospect of Jungkook seeing you as if he hasn’t already seen you a million times before. You elbow his hands out of the way and that catches his attention, makes him furrow his brows in annoyance. He slides his hands across your arms and catches your wrists, gripping them tightly before encouraging you to explore yourself the way he was just a second ago.

“I don’t get it.” He groans frustratedly into the back of your head, guiding your hands across your stomach, over your navel and over the skin of your lower abdomen. “Why don’t you see what I see? God, I’d give up everything to let you see yourself in my eyes. You’re like a fucking Messiah, my own little Aphrodite.”

“Aphrodite isn't a Messiah.” You respond quietly with that smartass tone of voice he loves, though slightly muted. He rolls his eyes and chuckles at your quick tongue, always itching to prove him wrong about something.

“Okay, and? The point is that I worship the fucking ground you walk, couldn’t picture a better death than in your arms...” He smirks, playing with the waistband of your leggings. “Maybe between your legs?” He laughs when you slap his forearm, but continues down the vulgar path he’s set himself on. “Would want my last breath to be with my tongue on that pretty pussy of yours, my last meal. You taste so good, always have. I know you love when I eat you out, too. Don’t you miss it?” He encourages, wants to hear you agree, wants to see the brick wall you’ve built up around yourself start to collapse. He’s kicking at the foundation as he speaks, finding the weakest spots and slotting the easiest bricks out at a time like Jenga. “You get so, so wet when I let you sit on my face. Think you know that I’d happily drown if it’s your snatch I’m drowning in. Don’t you want that, baby? Me to fuck you with my tongue?”

He reels when you respond with the softest “mhm” imaginable, gripping your hips like his life depends on it and pulling you back into his erection for some kind of relief. “Yeah?” He croaks, pushing your hair over your shoulder so he can start peppering kisses down your spine from behind. “I’ll do it, but you gotta do me a favour, m’kay?” Phase two of his master plan underway. He stands up straight, rubbing your hip gently and rests his chin on your shoulder to talk to you directly, wants to look you in the eye even if only through the mirror. You’re waiting for him to continue before you agree, leaning your head against his sweetly. “I want you to look at yourself the entire time. Not me, want you to face the mirror and see exactly what I see.”

You swallow nervously, scared to agree because that sounds like your worst nightmare. But Jungkook is so sweet, so kind and encouraging. Your eyes flutter shut when he turns his head into yours, kisses your neck gently, whispers how good he knows you can be for him against your skin. Your weakness has always been Jungkook’s gentleness. He lights fires in your gut and fans the flames with the softness of his voice, plants seeds and waters them with his delicacy. You find yourself agreeing, murmuring an “okay” and allowing Jungkook to guide you over to the bed. He’s preening, celebrating this victory by offering you a kiss on the lips as he encourages you to lie down with your head turned towards the mirror.

It’s different this way. You’re not so disgusted with yourself when you can see Jungkook in the mirror looking at you in awe. Your eyes remain on him, scanning over the broadness of his shoulders. He looks larger when he has clothes on, his t-shirt hiding away the lean frame you were once so used to. You suppose you’re still used to it, but the giddiness that bubbles in your stomach at his touch feels new. Your gaze lowers to his hands, you can see the flex of his shoulders through the fabric, how his fingers pry at the fabric of your leggings before slipping them down your legs and off your body, tossing them onto the floor carelessly. He turns his head to the mirror then, meeting your eyes with a stern face.

“Not me.” He instructs, and you begin to feel shy again. You haven’t sat with the reality of your body for so long. Against the sheets, you look frumpy. There’s a roll in your waist and a curve to your stomach now, it quite frankly makes you feel a bit sick. You’ve never been model thin, you don’t think that’d be possible with Jungkook’s feeding habits, but you’ve never been this big. Realistically, you aren’t even big. You don’t even see a problem with it on others, you know plenty of bigger people who you are even envious of. You just don’t think it looks right on you. Their bellies remain flat where yours curves above your navel, their hips are round where yours dip and flatten. Their skin is smooth and their boobs stay perky, you have cellulite and your nipples are starting to droop.

Your mind blanks when you feel Jungkook’s thumb press into your belly, using his free hand to pull off your panties and toss them onto the pile with your leggings. You don’t know how he does it, how he manages to draw you from the deepest crevices of your insecurities with his touch. You want to look at him so bad, but you don’t want to disappoint him. You want to be good. You keep your eyes on yourself, on the indent of his thumb in your abdomen, on the rise in your hips when he finally lowers his mouth to your pussy and the way your chest shakes with a hitched breath when he nudges your clit with his nose. You pull one leg back to plant your foot in the mattress, letting the other fall sideways to spread yourself open for him. He thanks you with a mumble of praise and wraps his lips around your clitoris to suck on it gently. You moan, it’s been so long since you let him touch you like this and you can feel yourself growing wetter against his tongue. He’s lying flat on his belly while he eats you out, burying his face between your legs and holding your hip. The thumb digging into your tummy is pressed deeper, like he thinks you’re going to push him away. You wouldn’t, couldn’t, so you lift your hips up into his face and whine for more.

As expected, he obliges. Dives in a little deeper and dips his tongue past your entrance, ensuring you don’t slip from his grasp. His other hand meets the fabric of your bra and you can feel the vibrations of his irritated growl in all the crevices of your pussy. It makes you whine, clenching around the muscle of his tongue as you rut into his face for more friction. He pushes at the cups haphazardly, desperate to release your boobs from their confines and play with them. You can’t control the way your eyes flutter shut, biting your lip when Jungkook’s fingers toy deftly with one of your tits, squeezing the flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingertips. You’re certain his eyes are shut too, but a sharp pinch to your breast has you letting out a surprised yelp and sitting up on your elbows to scold him. His eyes meet yours sternly, separating from your lower lips for a moment to tell you off.

“You’re really bad at following instructions.” He mumbles, coming off whinier than intended. You can’t help the giggle that leaves your throat at the sound of his voice; Jungkook has never been too good at being domineering. Never in all the time you’ve known the man has he ever truly intimidated you. He groans, feigning annoyance, but presses a kiss to your pubis before resting his forehead against your tummy. “Can you please just try?” He asks so quietly, and you swallow hard at the almost pathetic tone of voice he’s using to get you to obey. You hadn’t intended to be difficult, but you hadn’t really considered the anguish you would be in just from seeing yourself.

Watching Jungkook instead is like a Hail Mary, a saving grace between glances at your own body that bids your churning stomach time to settle at the sight. He’s so pretty, you’ve always thought this. Even now, resting against your belly with pleading eyes, Jungkook is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. You turn your head to the mirror again and see the hopefulness in his gaze when he lowers another kiss to your sensitive skin. His hair is a mess of black atop his head and your eyes follow the curve of his neck down to his t-shirt. You grumble quietly, vexed by the fact that he’s too covered for your liking, but continue your observation down his right arm anyway. You follow his tattoos down to his fingers and gasp when he moans into your folds and tightens his grip on your hip. You notice too, then, the way his hands fit so perfectly against you. It makes you smile. For the first time tonight, despite his tongue dipping back into your folds and his lips wrapping around your clit making you pant, you can’t take your eyes off of yourself.

You hook your leg over Jungkook’s shoulder, digging your heel into his lower back and rutting up into his mouth desperately. He chuckles into your heat and hooks his hand around your thigh to delve in deeper. He loves the sounds of your moans, music to his ears like a melody played staccato; your back arches off the bed but you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror. He seems to be rewarding you now, pleased by your submission, and your mind short-circuits when his fingers join his mouth at your core. Your fingers tangle in his hair, encouraging him closer still – of course he heeds, dipping his middle finger into your hole and curling it. He doesn’t need much coercion to add another, your wetness and willingness is evident from a mile away, but Jungkook still groans in pure awe at the sight of you taking him.

Your moans devolve into a babble of his name as you draw closer to climax, clenching around him and shutting your eyes. He doesn’t punish you this time, accepts that you’ve done well enough for him, and instead watches your face as he sucks on your nub and strokes at your g-spot until you come hard around his fingers. When you finally open your eyes, your chest is heaving and Jungkook is holding up his wet digits like a trophy, bringing them to his lips to lick clean before journeying up your chest with determination.

“You saw, right? What I see?” He whispers, kissing up your happy trail slowly. You nod, but Jungkook isn’t watching – on purpose, you assume, to coax a verbal confirmation from you. His kisses travel further up, but he doesn’t ask again until he reaches your chest and presses a single kiss onto one of your nipples. “Can you tell me?”

“I saw how pretty you looked.” You respond, just to be a little difficult, but the way Jungkook deflates has you backtracking immediately. “We, I saw- I saw how pretty we looked.”

“But what about you?” He’s so genuine in his questioning, not spending as much time on your tits as he personally would’ve liked. He crawls up until he’s hovering directly over you, planting his hands on either side of your head.

“I looked good with you.” Is all you can muster up, but it seems to satisfy Jungkook as he lowers himself to meet your lips. The kiss is so slow, so gentle, and you can taste the subtle savouriness of yourself on his tongue when he guides it past your lips. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck like second nature, and he moves one of his own to your hip as the kiss grows more heated. He grunts into your mouth when he grinds himself against you, and the weight of his erection is dizzying. You swallow the noises he makes, holding him close to you and rutting your own hips into his movements.

“If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes, I might die,” he murmurs, hand wandering across your hip and up to your waist, “no kidding. I’m too hard.” He adds when he hears you giggle, offering a final peck to his lips before pulling back a little.

“I’m right here, aren’t I?” You whisper sultrily, nuzzling your nose against his. He hums appreciatively, kissing down to your jaw with a grin. “You’re the one with all the clothes on.”

“Not how I want you, need you from behind.” He practically growls, and you swallow hard when he sits up to tug his shirt off and finally reveals what you’ve been craving so ravenously. You don’t hesitate in reaching forward to rub up and down his torso, trailing your fingers over the ridges of his pecs and abs with fascination. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, shaking his head as he stops your exploration. “I like this and all, but I need you on your stomach, like, yesterday.”

“That doesn’t feel fair, you had your fun,” you complain, scooting back on the bed while he sits on his knees above you, “and I don’t even get to touch?”

“Nope. Belly, now.” He commands, though his tone is far from domineering. He sounds desperate, and he looks it too. His body is flushed, his cheeks and shoulders tinted red as he gives your hip a spank and encourages you to turn over. You grumble a small protest but do so nonetheless, peering over your shoulder at him as you raise yourself to your hands and knees and dip your back. He tuts, placing a single hand on your ass and pushing you down until you’re flat against the mattress. He’s quick to shuck off his sweatpants and boxers, then reaches down to finally unclasp your bra. You sit up on your forearms to allow him to usher the straps off of your shoulders, leaving both of you naked on the bed.

“Eyes on the mirror, please.” He smiles down at you, reaching out for your ass cheek to give it a firm jiggle and a slap. You turn your head obediently, trained well by his consistent praise and repetitive instructions, and look at the way he positions himself over you from behind. He moves himself steadily between the small part in your legs, groaning when his tip brushes against your folds, rutting forward and sliding himself against the wetness coating your skin. You part your legs even further and reach back to take a hold of his length for him, preening at the way he drops his head and mewls. You’re desperate too at this point, so it doesn’t take long for you to guide his tip to your entrance and he’s even quicker to shove himself in.

You both moan, breaths shaking as he pushes deeper and deeper until he’s fully sheathed inside your heat. You continue to watch, endlessly awestruck by the sheer size of him compared to you – even despite your weight gain, Jungkook looks massive. When he pulls out, he’s glossy with your arousal, and when he thrusts back in you can almost feel him nudging against your tummy. Especially in this position, Jungkook feels impossibly deep. You groan when he grips your hips and you watch as his thumbs press into the dimples in your spine and he smirks, unknowingly to you because he’s been thinking about exactly this for weeks.

“I fit perfectly,” he growls, pulling you back onto his cock in order to reach deeper, “pussy was built for me, mm? You see?” You can feel the way his fingers stretch around your lower back to grip at your stomach while his thumbs stay firmly planted in those dimples, and it makes you shudder.

“Y-Yeah!” You moan, all you can do at this point is agree because he is so right. Not just your pussy, despite the fact that he fills you unimaginably well, but everything about the way your bodies interact with each other makes it obvious that you were made to be loved by him. Nobody else’s hands could fit so perfectly around you, could fill in your crevices and divots like plaster and make you feel so whole. You count your lucky stars for having Jungkook in your life to love you the way he does because you’re certain no-one else could. Even now, between sweaty skin and lewd noises, Jungkook stares down at you like he’s seen God; his lip trembles between his teeth and when he spots you looking up at him he grins and pins himself against your back. His hands leave your hips to wrap around your belly from underneath, holding your back tightly against his chest as his thrusts slow to an intimate roll.

“I love you, I love you,” he babbles into the back of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair and whimpering at the underlying notes of sweat, “I love you so much, never hide from me again.”

“Sorry. I love you.” You whisper back, breath hitching as you try to hold back your tears. This is all so intimate, it hurts. Jungkook is moving inside you like he could die tomorrow, making a home in your pussy and carving his initials into your cervix. He kisses the back of your neck breathes heavily against the shell of your ear, one of his hands trailing up to cup your tit and play with it gently.

“Gonna cum.” His hips are already picking up their pace, barely withdrawing himself from your heat in favour of grinding against your inner walls and cervix delicately. You turn your head to him and reach back to stroke his hair as encouragement, your own orgasm nearing as you feel yourself tightening around him. He nods, the silent agreement between you is enough for him to fuck you through both of your climaxes as he spills his cum into your heat and buries himself to the hilt when your walls begin to pulse around him. The noise that leaves his mouth is genuinely pathetic, but neither of you care in your post-orgasm bliss. He keeps his chest pressed tightly against your back, rolling slightly onto his side to spoon you instead of laying directly on top.

You can only handle a few minutes of cuddling like this until it all feels a bit too uncomfortable. Even Jungkook agrees, separating himself from you and leaving the bedroom in search of a wet cloth before returning with a bright smile. He’s silent as he cleans you, gentle when he wipes over your back, and then turns you to face him so he can clean between your legs and rid you of the sweat beading on your chest. He throws the cloth on the floor to meet your piles of clothes and clambers next to you in bed to cuddle you.

“Hi.” You offer him a smile and he returns an even bigger one, kissing your mouth.

“Mm, hi. Missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, gripping your ass cheek and separating from you to nuzzle your neck as he pulls you closer. “Don’t ever do that to me again, that was torture.”

“I’m sorry, I got in my head.”

“Me too. But you see it now, don’t you? How beautiful you are?”

“I do.” You wrap your own arms around him, giggling when he kisses your neck playfully before splaying himself out against your chest, holding you as close as he can.

a/n . . . 🗒️ hello !!!!!! second long post to here… i love asks and i love requests and i love making your ideas come to life in my head 🤍 this was incredibly fun & challenging to write and i’m happy to finally share with you guys !!!! your support means the world to me & i love hearing from you even if it’s criticism so please shoot me whatever you wish !!!

[maidenlove]

Long addition within tags, I apologize.

Editblr is a breeding ground for idolatry, ableism, racism and so much more all for a community about putting images together.

I've been here for only a year but I feel like I've seen it all, and the excuses oh my god the excuses. You are all 15-19, you should not have the mental capacity of a 8 year old. Your common sense is non existent and almost all of you guys are so fucking stupid it's pissing me off more than any god can understand. You are old enough to have logical thinking skills, you may have a disorder and it may be a reason but not an excuse.

Alot of you have forgotten the saying "Think Before You Talk" and I've sure as hell done alot of thinking. This is my deep dive into editblr. I think if you consider yourself a good person you should read under cut.

Ableism

Typing quirks are a way of personal expression but why do so much of you hate to add plain text. I can understand to extent because plain text hates my head because of how long it can be but I'm not gonna act like a little bitch about it. I'm gonna add my typing quirk or even fonts itself to it.

I'm gonna ask someone to help me, or to do it for me. Stopping making excuses for ableism. Alongside with the typing quirks, your psds are ugly and eyestrainy. Psds also fall under racism because I have no idea why you guys are ignoring the fact some make dark skin characters lighter but in the case of ableism most of them are really bright and makes it hard to see.

Orange and brown? Green and yellow? Blue and brown? Why are you putting colours that can be so much eyesore together? And won't even tag as eyestrain and when someone does ask you only do it for one post.

Romanticization

This one is weird as fuck and I see no one mentioning it. Editblr highkey has a ddlg problem, this "little girl" aesthetic you guys have going on borderlines ddlg alot and its icky. The baby talk typing quirk is disgusting, stop it.

I'm not one to judge how someone copes with their trauma but what I DO judge is how you act when majority says its uncomfortable. Now this section I'm a bit unsure how to phrase it, gotta love dyslexia, but that isn't going to stop me.

There's alot of very uncomfortable romanticization of stalking which I've seen so much of alongside abusive relationships and the justification of these things.

Racism

Really can't escape this one unfortunately. Many of you are like kpop idols, you're too dyslexic towards the difference between appropriation and appreciation. Incase you forgot let me remind you.

You can not gift japanese names. Gifting names is a native practice therefore you can only gift native names. Also I've noticed you weirdos befriending people just to use their cultural names. I can't even say it east asian fetishization because its only Japanese.

Also for the love of God can you guys stop saying nonmem and non women especially when referring to sexualities. It's not hard to simply say "queer attraction to women" and "queer attraction to men".

Coming back to the "gifting" names thing, I think it's interesting how all of you conveniently have a Japanese friend who "gifted" you the name of a cute pink anime girl. Maybe I'll do a post later on how much of a bad liar you guys are.

Closed symbols is also another big problem you all have. No matter how much times you're told you can't use something you always cry "but my friend from xyz culture said it was ok!" One person can't speak for a whole culture. You're nothing but a coloinzer in disguise hiding behind the idea of aesthetic. If you want to know if a symbol is closed just use this site.

Goddess Personas

Yea this one is getting a whole section of its own. Like any people I am uncomfortable with goddess personas, especially being someone with biblical sources. Now the idea that a teenager on the internet is making people call them a goddess is strange isn't it?

In my opinion, they're all annoying, copy and paste, and I think not a lot of people talk about how the really bad ones get. You all love to indulge them, make them think they have power over them. You put them on a pedestal and praise them and get surprised when it all goes to their head?

Stop giving 14 years old power, stop indulging in their habits and letting it go their head. Forcing people to refer to you as their goddess? Their Lord and saviour? Their idol? Someone they must listen to? It creates a power inbalance which always leads to the weirdest of manipulation. Also all the engagekiss copiers are so obvious why would you want to copy the identity of a groomer? It says alot of about yourself if that's what you think is ideal.

Callout Posts

Now, personally, I believe that the only reason a callout post happens is because someone was affected, does it not? Very rarely would a callout post would be a fake one, especially if someone has more then one. If you defend someone who has more than one call out post that's on you and you're gonna end up making one some day I can genuine you that. People don't make them for no reason.

This is all I have to say for now. I hope you guys really consider what I have written here, or not, considering the fact you guys have shown multiple times you lack reading comprehension

@starriesse @dollicous @doveinne @firstgf @kiochisato @lamboll @cherryshh @narcbf @lavendergalactic @npditary @sprinkleoverdose @necroangelz @eskeys

[solarmorrigan]

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.

[hottiesforhockey]

mutual pining ⎜n.hischier

pairings: nico hischier x afab!midsized!reader genre: romance ⎜fuff ⎜ slow burn? ⎜ warnings: pure cuteness ⎜ nico is literally so sweet ⎜ p in v ⎜ body worship?⎜ slight overstimulation ⎜oral (f receiving) ⎜fingering ⎜ nico is a giver ⎜ reader goes by bee (its a nickname)⎜midsized!reader ⎜ reader is a little insecure sometimes ⎜ mentions of previous shitty ex ⎜ sad nico? ⎜confused reader constantly⎜ apologies in advance for the ending ⎜ synopsis: your sister convinces you to tag along on her trip to Switzerland to visit her long distance boyfriend - you didn't expect his younger brother to be there let alone just your type. word count: 12.6k authors note:  this is my first nico story ever and it's a doozy! it was the clear winner of my poll so I hope those of you who voted will enjoy! also just incase you didn't see in the warnings but the reader will go by the nickname bee!(barely) but I tried to keep her descriptions to a minimum

(unedited)

“He said he would be waiting at the baggage claim for us.” You sister says as she glances down at her phone, confirming her statement with the message her boyfriend had sent earlier. 

“I still don’t know how you ended up in a long distance relationship with a professional athlete.” You retort, pulling your backpack higher on your shoulders before adding, “Just kind of a wild situation, you know.” You sister just nods in agreement, having stated herself how strange the relationship had come about. 

“What can I say? I must just be that addictive.” She coos, at you, her face lighting up as the doors to the baggage claim slide open. She leaves you in the dust as she rushes forwards dropping her bag before leaping into the arms of her admittedly much larger boyfriend, who looks equally as excited to see her - whispering in her ear as she digs her face into his shoulder. 

Your sister had met the Swiss Hockey Player while on a short vacation around Europe stopping in Switzerland for about a week before planning to move on to Italy - she had called you the night she met the large Swiss man already head over heels for the charming brunette after one, slightly tipsy, night together. 

And as it stands the large Swiss man was equally as obsessed with her - the two immediately starting a long distance relationship after spending another week together in Italy, where he had followed her refusing to let their time together finish so soon. 

Judging by the goo goo eyes they are already making at each other it was going to be a long three weeks. 

“Hurry up.” You sister shouts as you dawdle over to the couple, trying to give them some time out of earshot to greet each other properly. “Luca, this is my little sister, Bee.” You sister introduces you quickly, Luca turning to you with a beaming smile, and a friendly hand extended. 

“Nice to meet you, Luca.” You say quietly as you join your hands giving it a firm shake before letting your hand fall back to your side. “Sorry I’m not as energetic as Mia but it’s been a long trip.” You laugh softly, pushing some loose hair off your forehead before shooting your sister a look. 

“Oh yes, we better get you two back to the house.” Luca says quickly, his hand firm on your sisters waist as he guides her to the baggage carousel. “Just let us know which bags are yours.” Luca says quietly, leaning over your sister to make sure you heard him. 

“Us?” You question in confusion. 

“My little brother Nico is staying with us too.” Luca notes casually, your eyes shooting over to your sister who’s already mouthing a silent apology. When you had agreed to come on this trip, your sister had promised it would mainly be you and her and the beautiful summer mountains of Switzerland - it wasn’t until two days ago that she informed you, you would be staying with her boyfriend. 

You had no issues with your sister wanting to spend some time with her boyfriend who she hadn’t seen in months but the idea of forced socialisation was not high on your vacation wishlist - and now another stranger would be thrown into the mix. “Suck it up.” Your sister hisses through her teeth as she leans towards you. “Nico is really nice, I think you two will get along.” She adds, motioning her head to the broad brunette now standing besides her boyfriend. 

“Nico this is Mia’s little sister, the one I was telling you about.” Luca says quickly, his hand guiding his brothers attention in your direction. You don’t miss the pointed look Luca gives his brother, his reminder obviously sparking something inside Nico who quickly turns his full attention to you - his big brown eyes stealing every thought you’d ever had in your life. 

You give Nico a quick nod of acknowledgment before spotting your baby blue suitcase coming around the corner, avoiding anymore stunted silence by moving forwards to grab hold of it. “Here, let me get that for you.” Nico says softly as he follows behind you, grabbing hold of the suitcase before you can, pulling it off the carousel with ease. “Which one is your sisters?” He asks, not looking away from the baggage as you point out the soft pink suitcase following closely behind yours. 

Nico does the same for your sister’s bag, gently pulling it from the track and setting it beside yours. As you reach out to take your suitcase back, Nico pulls it just out of reach, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” He says with a playful grin. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right?”

You can’t help but smile at the teasing tone, though inwardly, you curse your body’s reaction to men you barely know. “I guess so,” you reply, trying to sound casual as you meet his gaze.

Luca and Mia are already a few steps ahead, engaged in a quiet conversation. Nico is right beside you now, still holding your suitcase with an effortless air, as though it’s no more than a feather in his large hands.

“So,” you start, trying to fill the awkward space with something, “What’s it like being a professional hockey player?” The question feels a bit dull, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. You remember your sister mentioning how despite Luca being a professional Swiss hockey player the families true pride was in the youngest, Nico, being selected to play in the NHL. 

“It’s not all glitz and glamour,” Nico replies with a casual shrug, his voice easy and unbothered. “Early mornings, long practices, and constant travel. It’s hard being away from home, but hockey’s my life. I wouldn’t trade it.”

You nod, impressed by how down-to-earth he is despite his career. It’s a side of athletes you don’t often see on TV.

“That sounds… challenging.”

“Yeah, but the game is worth it,” he says, glancing over at you with a quiet smile. “Plus, there’s always Bern to come back to. The city’s never too far from my mind.” You both walk out into the warm Bern summer afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, the city alive with activity. Luca locates the car quickly - ushering your sister into the passenger seat as he pulls the trunk open, helping his younger brother lift both suitcases inside before shutting it, sliding into the drivers side besides your sister. 

Nico’s eyes flicker to you again, his smile widening. “Ladies first.” He comments as he opens the back door for you, watching as you slide into the seat, shuffling across to the far side of the car - Nico joining you shortly after. 

The car hums to life, and Nico leans back in his seat, one arm casually resting on the door as the vehicle pulls away from the airport. You settle into the plush interior, your hands neatly folded in your lap, though your mind is anything but calm. The way Nico speaks, his deep voice a contrast to the soft, warm tone, it lingers with you, a subtle undercurrent beneath the otherwise normal conversation happening in the front seats.

Mia is already chatting away with Luca, the two of them laughing about something you didn’t quite catch. You find yourself glancing at Nico once more, his posture relaxed but somehow still commanding in the space of the car.

“Are you excited to be in Switzerland for the summer?” Nico’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you blink, realising he’s been waiting for you to respond.

“Yeah, I think it’s going to be nice. It’s a lot different than where I’m from, but it’s peaceful, you know?” You hesitate, wondering if he’s even interested in hearing about your home, but Nico’s focused attention encourages you to continue.

“It is a bit of a change,” Nico comments. His voice seems warm, as though he’s trying to put you at ease, despite the subtle tension hanging in the air. “I’ve never been to Australia, but I’ve heard good things.”

“You should visit,” you say before you can stop yourself. You immediately feel a flush creep up your neck, the way his eyes lock with yours making your words feel too forward, too personal.

Nico smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe someday.” He seems to be considering it, and something in your chest tightens, like an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

Mia and Luca continue their conversation in the front seats, but you’re no longer focused on them. Nico is still looking at you, his gaze soft, as though he’s waiting for you to say something more, something deeper. But what could you possibly say to someone like him?

“You and Mia seem... close,” you finally say, choosing something safe, but it’s enough to break the tension.

Nico’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that makes you feel like you’ve just scratched the surface of who he is. “Yeah, she’s like a sister to me. We hung out a lot last time she came to see Luca,” he says, laughing softly. “She’s just... a force of nature. I know she’s happy with Luca, though, and that’s all that matters.”

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that the conversation is off of you. The drive continues for a few minutes in silence, save for the soft hum of the car and the occasional laugh from the front seats. You can’t help but steal glances at Nico every now and then, though, wondering what else lies beneath that easygoing exterior of his.

The city of Bern slowly gives way to the lush, green landscapes of the countryside, the picturesque mountains rising in the distance. Your thoughts keep drifting back to Nico’s calm demeanour, his gentle teasing, and that fleeting moment when it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

The car takes a turn off the main road, winding through smaller paths that lead to a beautiful chalet nestled among towering trees. The house looks like something out of a magazine—modern yet rustic, with wide glass windows framing the serene mountain view. You’re just about to comment on how stunning it is when Nico speaks again, breaking your thoughts.

“You’ll like it here,” he says, his voice quieter now, more assured. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The words are simple, but they carry an unspoken weight that makes you feel, for a moment, like you’ve been let in on a secret. You give him a small smile, unsure of how to respond to that, but grateful for his reassurance.

Luca parks the car in front of the house, turning off the engine. He leans back in his seat, glancing at the two of you in the back. “Well, welcome to Bern,” he says with a grin. “Let’s get inside before the jet lag hits you two.”

Mia opens her door first, quickly followed by Luca. Nico hesitates for a moment before stepping out of the car and rushing around to the other side of the car offering you a hand, which you take gratefully, feeling the weight of his hand in yours for a second longer than necessary.

“You head inside, look around - I’ll grab your bags.” Nico says his voice quieter as he slowly pulls his hand away from yours, his other hand holding the car door open as you slip further away from the car. You hesitate for a moment, Nico nodding for you to go ahead, your feet not wasting any more time in following after the couple who just went inside - hoping to god you find a bed soon. 

“You can sleep in here, there is a bathroom through that door and a closet if you want to unpack anything - we’ll be just down the hall and Nico’s room is right across there.” Your sister explains pointing in different directions as she goes, her eyebrows raising briefly as she points to the door to Nico’s room. 

“Don’t even start with that.” You sneer, your sister throwing her hands up in defence. 

“I’m just saying he’s not a bad dude, and after what happened with Joh—” 

“Don’t please.” 

“He’s a good guy, Bee. Give him a shot to worm his way into that cold dead heart of yours.” Your sister continues, ignoring the glare you send her way, patting your head lightly before making her way down the hall to her shared bedroom with Luca, the door closing softly behind her. 

You let out a long sigh, pinching your nose before retreating into the bedroom - closing the door behind you before flopping onto the mattress, melting into the plush blankets as sleep overwhelms you. 

+

+

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun when you finally stir, a sense of disorientation tugging at you. For a moment, you forget where you are—the unfamiliar warmth of the air, the faint hum of nature outside, and the plush comfort of the bed beneath you all feel dreamlike. It isn’t until you turn your head and notice the neatly folded blanket draped over you that the pieces begin to fall into place.

Sitting up slowly, you glance around the room. Your suitcase sits neatly in the corner, its zipper slightly ajar as if someone had checked to ensure it made the journey unscathed. The thought pulls a soft smile to your lips; you already have a suspicion about who might have taken the time to do that.

Stretching out, you catch the faint sound of laughter drifting through the open window, voices carrying from somewhere outside. Curious, you pad over to the window, pushing aside the sheer curtain to peer out. Below, you spot Mia and Luca sitting on the edge of the deck, their legs dangling over the side as they sip what looks like glasses of wine. Nico is standing a few feet away from them, leaning casually against the railing with a beer in hand, his posture as relaxed as ever. You watch as he says something to your sister - her head nodding before he turns to make his way back into the house, your steps leading you over to your bed to refold the blanket and place it at the end of the bed where it was when you arrived. 

A gentle knock on the door pulls your attention away, and you turn just in time to see it crack open. Nico's head appears, his dark eyes meeting yours with a soft, apologetic smile.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you," he says quietly. "Mia said you might still be out, but I wanted to check if you’re hungry. Dinner’s ready if you want to join us."You hesitate, still shaking off the remnants of sleep, but there’s something in his tone—gentle, patient—that makes you nod.

"Yeah, give me a minute," you say, your voice still a little groggy.

Nico steps back, nodding. "Take your time. We’re on the back deck."

As the door clicks shut, you take a deep breath, smoothing down your hair and glancing in the mirror. The sleep lines on your face are a stark reminder of how exhausted you were, but there’s no undoing that now. Besides, the promise of food—and maybe a little fresh air—sounds too good to pass up.

When you finally step outside onto the patio, the warm, golden light of the sunset greets you, casting long shadows over the wooden floorboards. The air is cool but pleasant, carrying the scent of pine and something delicious wafting from the small grill set up nearby.

"There she is!" Mia beams, waving you over enthusiastically. "Thought we’d lost you to the jet lag forever."

"Almost," you admit with a sheepish grin, taking a seat at the table where a spread of grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and what looks like marinated chicken is waiting. Nico moves to set another plate down in front of you, his movements quiet but purposeful.

"Hope you like simple meals," he says as he straightens up, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

"Looks amazing," you reply, meaning it. The sight of the food is enough to make your stomach rumble audibly, earning a laugh from Mia. Dinner is lively, Mia and Luca carrying most of the conversation with stories and jokes, their chemistry palpable. Nico chimes in every so often, his dry humor catching you off guard but making you laugh nonetheless. You find yourself stealing glances at him when you think he’s not looking, curious about the subtle shifts in his expressions as he listens to the others.

As the evening deepens, the conversation begins to quiet, the group falling into a comfortable lull. The stars begin to appear overhead, and you find your gaze wandering upward, the beauty of the glowing night sky pulling a soft sigh from your lips.

"Pretty different from the city, huh?" Nico’s voice is quiet, meant just for you. You glance at him, finding his eyes already on you, reflecting the faint light of the stars. For a moment, you forget to breathe, caught off guard by the way he looks at you—steady and intent, like he’s truly seeing you.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s… peaceful." Nico’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze lifting to the stars above. 

"You get used to it. But it’s nice, seeing someone appreciate it for the first time." You don’t know what to say to that, so you let the silence settle between you, a strange but not unwelcome tension hanging in the air. It’s not uncomfortable—it’s something else entirely, something you can’t quite name but don’t want to push away. For the first time since you arrived, you feel a flicker of something unexpected—an unfamiliar warmth that has nothing to do with the summer air. 

The warmth lingers as the night deepens, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The gentle murmur of crickets rises, filling the silence between the sporadic bursts of conversation around the table. You watch as Luca pours another glass of wine for Mia, his hand brushing hers in a way that seems unconscious yet deliberate. There's something soothing about their easy familiarity, the way they move around each other like pieces of a puzzle that have always fit.

Your gaze drifts back to Nico. He's leaned back in his chair now, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his beer long forgotten on the table. There's an ease to him, but it’s clear he’s observing, soaking in the atmosphere in a way that feels distinctly different from the others. It makes you wonder what he's thinking, what stories he keeps locked behind that quiet demeanor.

"Hey," Mia calls, pulling you out of your thoughts. "We were just saying we should go for a hike tomorrow. There’s a great trail not far from here. You up for it?"

You blink, caught off guard. Hiking wasn’t exactly on your agenda when you arrived, but Mia’s enthusiasm is contagious. Before you can answer, Nico speaks up, his voice calm but firm.

"Let her settle in first. She just got here." He glances at you, his brow lifting slightly as if to gauge your reaction. "You don’t have to feel pressured."

Mia rolls her eyes but laughs. "Fine, fine. You can play tour guide when she’s ready."

You chuckle softly, appreciating the out Nico has given you, even if you don’t take it. "A hike actually sounds nice. Maybe not anything too intense, though."

"Deal," Mia says, grinning. "We’ll start with the easy trail. It’s mostly flat, but the view at the end is worth it."

The conversation shifts again, and you let yourself fade into the background, content to listen. The laughter and camaraderie feel grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos of the life you left behind, if only temporarily. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this relaxed, this… present.

When the gathering finally winds down, Nico is the first to rise, collecting plates and stacking them with quiet efficiency. You stand as well, reaching for the empty glass in front of you, but he shakes his head.

"I’ve got it," he says simply, his tone leaving little room for argument.

"You sure? I don’t mind helping," you offer, unsure why you feel compelled to insist.

He pauses, meeting your gaze again with that same steady look. "I’m sure. Go enjoy the stars while you can."

There’s something in his voice that makes you obey, though you linger just a moment longer, watching as he carries the dishes inside. It’s a small thing, but the gesture feels significant in a way you can’t quite explain.

You step to the edge of the deck, leaning against the railing as your eyes lift to the heavens. The stars are brighter than you remember, each one like a tiny pinprick of light in the velvet sky. It’s breathtaking in its simplicity, the kind of beauty that makes you feel both small and infinite all at once.

Footsteps approach behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to see Nico returning, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. He stops a few feet away, his expression wondering.

"Thanks for dinner," you say quietly, feeling the need to fill the space between you. "It was really nice."

He nods, his lips curving into that faint smile again. "Glad you enjoyed it."

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching like a thin thread between you. Then, almost imperceptibly, Nico shifts closer, resting his forearms on the railing beside you. His shoulder brushes yours lightly, and the warmth of the contact sends a faint shiver down your spine.

"You planning to stay out here all night?" he asks, his tone teasing but gentle.

“I guess it is getting a little cold.” You agree, finally pushing yourself off the railing, crossing your arms over your chest as you rub the bare skin - Nico falling into steps besides you as you both climb the small hill towards the house. The silence is comfortable, the two of you sinking into your own thoughts as you make your way up the stairs and to you respective doors, Nico glancing once over his shoulder as he watches you enter your bedroom and slowly close the door, a small smile on his face. 

He knew what his brother was doing when he suggest Nico stay in the room opposite yours - and he knew what his brother and your sister were doing by insisting he come spend the summer at the lake house instead of at the family home closer to the city. 

And yet a large part of him was thankful for their meddling, cause without them he wouldn’t have met you. 

A girl who looks at the stars as if she’d never seen them before. 

+

+

“Luca said it’s probably a good idea to wearing a bathing suit under your clothes.” You sister says as she swings open your bedroom door, your shirt just being pulled over your head. “He said there’s a small waterfall near the top and it’s nice to go for a swim.” She adds, looking down at your outfit before shaking her head. 

“Nope, you can do better then that.” She dismisses, walking over to your suitcase starting to dig around before you even get a chance to respond. “This one is perfect.” She says pulling out the black high cut one piece from your suitcase, throwing it across the room to you. 

“What? No, I can’t hike with that on underneath my clothes.” You exclaim, looking at the swim suit in shock, you forgot you even packed that. 

“Why not - it’ll make your ass look fantastic.” 

“Umm, maybe because it offers no support and it’s essentially a thong.” You respond, turning it around to show her the barely there strip of fabric that was suppose to cover your ass. 

“Yeah well not everything is about functionality.” She snorts, insisting you wear it before leaving you to change. You hesitantly pull on the one piece swimsuit, already feeling the fabric riding up your ass, before pulling on your shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

“At least I thought to pack hiking boots.” You mumble to yourself as you tighten the shoes on your feet, thankful that you at least could try to avoid some blisters if your sister was determined to give your butt crack a rash. You stomp your way downstairs, glaring at your sister as you watch the two brothers fill two hiking packs with snacks and water - Nico shoving a few towels in a third pack. 

“I can take that.” You say quickly, snatching the bag off the counter as he zips it shut - shooting him a smile and turning to follow the couple out of the house before he has any room to argue. 

The morning air is crisp and cool as the four of you set off down the dirt path leading away from the house. The forest is alive with the sounds of chirping birds and the distant rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Despite the awkward start to your day, you’re beginning to feel the excitement building. The idea of a hike—complete with a hidden waterfall—feels like the kind of adventure you hadn’t realised you were craving.

Mia and Luca lead the way, their hands brushing occasionally as they walk side by side. You trail behind them with Nico a step or two behind you, his presence quiet but grounding. The pack on your back isn’t meant to be heavy, but you can feel the straps digging in slightly, a reminder of the towels you insisted on carrying.

It’s just towels how the hell does it feel so heavy? 

"Sure you don’t want me to take that?" Nico’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s looking at you with a raised eyebrow, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"I’ve got it," you insist, your tone light but firm. You’re not about to let him think you can’t handle carrying a simple bag.

He nods, his expression unreadable but faintly amused. "Alright. Just say the word if you change your mind."

The trail begins to incline, the terrain growing rockier as you ascend. Sweat beads on your brow despite the coolness of the morning, and you focus on your footing, determined not to trip over a loose stone or stray root. Mia and Luca are chatting animatedly ahead, their voices carrying back to you in bursts, but you’re too distracted by the strain in your thighs and the increasing awareness of the swimsuit under your clothes to pay attention.

"You okay up there?" Nico’s voice comes again, closer this time. You glance over your shoulder to see him just behind you, his dark eyes scanning you with mild concern.

"Fine," you say quickly, though your breathlessness betrays you. "Just… haven’t done this in a while." He smirks, his pace matching yours effortlessly. 

"You’re doing fine. Mia usually drags people up here faster. Guess she’s going easy on you."

You snort softly at that, grateful for the distraction of his dry humor. "I’ll have to thank her later."

The trees begin to thin as you approach a clearing, and the sound of rushing water grows louder, the promise of the waterfall spurring you on. When you finally break through the last of the foliage, the sight takes your breath away. The waterfall cascades down a rocky ledge, its water glistening in the sunlight as it spills into a crystal-clear pool below. The air is cooler here, misting faintly around you as if the scene itself is enchanted.

"Wow," you breathe, pausing at the edge of the clearing.

Mia grins, already kicking off her shoes. "Told you it was worth it!" She turns to Luca, who’s already peeling off his shirt, revealing a tan, athletic frame.

You hesitate, your gaze flicking to the pool and then to Nico, who’s unzipping his pack and pulling out a bottle of water. His movement is efficient, and there’s something about the way his shirt clings to his back that has your mouth going dry. You shake the thought away quickly, reminding yourself to stay focused.

"Well," Mia says, turning to you with a mischievous grin. "Time to test out that swimsuit."

You groan, your cheeks heating as she waves you toward the water. "Don’t make it weird," you mutter, kicking off your boots and socks. You push you shorts down your legs glad for the oversized shirt still covering your ass that’s hanging out, hoping no one’s paying attention as you take a deep breath stripping off your shit down to the swimsuit. The high cut and minimal coverage feeling more scandalous out in the open, and you resist the urge to tug at the fabric as you step to the edge of the pool.

“Wowza my little sister has tits.” You sister whistles from the water, Luca glancing over his shoulder as he shoots you a teasing grin, letting out a low whistle. 

“If I wasn’t dating your sister, you’d be top of my list little bee.” He coos, letting out a grunt as your sister slams her elbow into his side. He whispers a soft apology kissing her cheek gently before paddling away from her. 

"Looks good," Nico says offhandedly, his tone neutral but enough to make you pause. You glance at him sharply, but he’s already looking away, his focus seemingly on the towels he’s laying out on a flat rock.

Your sister giggles, shooting you a knowing look, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, you take a deep breath and step into the water, the coolness wrapping around your legs and immediately refreshing your overheated skin.

"Cold?" Nico asks as he steps up beside you, his voice low enough that Mia and Luca don’t hear.

"A little," you admit, glancing at him. He smirks again, his eyes glinting with amusement, raking slowly down your body before snapping up to your face, his expression now stone cold as he takes another step towards the water. 

"You’ll get used to it." And with that, he wades in farther, the water lapping at his waist before he ducks under completely. When he surfaces, his hair slicked back and water streaming down his face, you feel your breath catch—not from the cold, but from the way he seems utterly at ease, like he belongs here.

You shake the thought away, diving in after him. The water envelopes you, cool and invigorating, and when you resurface, you feel lighter—freer. 

“Want to climb up there?” Mia’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn to find her pointing to a ledge halfway up the waterfall. You squint at the spot, the cascading water making it look more slippery than inviting.

“What, so I can slip and break my neck?”

“No, so you can jump off!” Mia exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “It’s not that high, and the pool’s deep enough. Luca’s done it a million times.” Luca, now fully sprawled on his precarious rock, overhears and shoots a thumbs-up.

“Highly recommend! Best adrenaline rush you’ll get around here.”

You hesitate, glancing toward Nico as if for a second opinion. He doesn’t say anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugs at his lips as he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at him,” Mia chides, grabbing your arm. “You’re doing this.”

With no room to argue, you let her drag you toward the rocks along the edge of the pool. The climb isn’t as treacherous as it first seemed, though your heart pounds with each step closer to the top. When you finally reach the ledge, the view takes your breath away—a panoramic glimpse of the forest stretching out beyond the pool below, sunlight glinting off the water’s surface like diamonds.

“Okay, now just jump!” Mia says, beaming as if this is the simplest thing in the world. You glance down, your stomach flipping at the height. It’s not exactly terrifying, but it’s far enough to make you hesitate. “What if I land wrong?”

“You won’t,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Just aim for the middle and tuck your legs if you’re scared. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, peering over the edge again. From below, Luca hollers encouragement, and Nico’s gaze is locked on you, calm and steady.

“You’ve got this,” Nico calls, his voice cutting through the rush of the falls. It’s not loud, but it carries enough conviction to steady your nerves.

Taking a deep breath, you step to the edge and count silently. One, two—

And then you leap.

The fall is exhilarating, a brief moment of weightlessness that sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The water greets you with a cool, refreshing embrace, and when you resurface, the sheer thrill of it has you laughing out loud. Mia cheers from the ledge above before cannonballing in after you, her splash sending ripples through the pool. Luca hoots his approval, and even Nico offers a nod of acknowledgment as you float on the surface, still grinning.

“See? Told you it was worth it,” Mia says, shaking water from her hair as she paddles closer.

“Okay, you were right,” you admit, your heart still racing. “But I’m never doing that again.”

“Liar,” she shoots back with a wink.

You glance at Nico, who’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—something between amusement and quiet admiration. For a moment, the world feels smaller, quieter, the sounds of laughter and rushing water fading into the background.

And then, just as quickly, he breaks eye contact, slipping back into the water and disappearing beneath the surface. You watch the water where he disappeared, waiting for him to pop back up with no luck - is he aqua man how is he holding his breath for so long? 

You tread water, watching as Luca and Mia exit the water, setting up camp on two towels right under the sun, a harsh tug on your ankle ripping a squeal from your as you’re pulled under the water.  Firm hands land on your waist as Nico hauls you back to the surface, his laugh echoing in the space as you both surface, his dimples digging into his cheeks as you swat at his chest. 

“Not funny, Nico.” You hiss, frowning at him as he lets out another round of laughter, the sound so unlike anything you’d heard from him before - sounding so similar to that of a giggle then the manly voice that usually escapes him. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He apologises quickly adding, “It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.” His hands are still firm on your waist as his laughter dies away his expression serious for a moment as he leans in whispering softly. 

“They’re right you know.” He says, his gaze flicking to your siblings before back to you, “the swimsuit looks incredible on you.” Nico leaves you sputtering his hands gently grazing down to your hips before releasing you, and making the short swim back to shore, your brain taking a moment to catch up before you swim after him. 

You follow Nico back to the shore, your heart pounding—not just from the exertion of swimming but from the lingering sensation of his hands on your waist and the low timbre of his voice. Did he really just say that? Your cheeks burn as you replay his words, and you’re grateful for the water concealing any hint of your flustered state.

Mia and Luca are sprawled on their towels, already engrossed in some lighthearted argument about what to cook for dinner. Nico grabs another towel from the pile, running it over his hair before draping it around his neck. He doesn’t glance your way, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he knows exactly what kind of chaos he’s left in his wake.

You sit down on your own towel, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the horizon as you attempt to gather your thoughts. The warmth of the sun on your skin and the gentle rustle of the forest around you should be calming, but your mind is spinning. 

What did he mean by that? Was he teasing, or…?

Mia interrupts your internal spiral by nudging you with her foot. "So, when’s the next jump?" she teases, her grin wide and mischievous.

"Never," you reply quickly, grabbing the towel and wrapping it tighter around yourself. “I’m retiring from cliff diving.”

“Sure you are,” Luca says with a laugh, tossing a granola bar your way. “You’ll be back up there before the day’s over.”

You roll your eyes but catch the granola bar, peeling it open and taking a bite as you sneak a glance at Nico. He’s leaning back on his elbows now, his gaze fixed on the sky as if he hasn’t a care in the world. 

As the sun begins to dip lower, painting the clearing in hues of gold and orange, the group starts packing up to head home. Nico’s quiet for most of the walk back, but you can feel his presence behind you, steady and grounding. Every now and then, you catch him glancing your way, his expression unreadable but leaving you wondering what’s going on in his head.

When you finally reach the house, the familiar smell of fresh air and pine clinging to your skin, you’re met with a new challenge: pretending everything is normal. Mia and Luca immediately collapse onto the couch, talking animatedly about their plans to make pasta for dinner. You excuse yourself, heading upstairs for a much-needed shower.

Under the hot water, you replay the day’s events—the jump, the laughter, the way Nico looked at you. His words echo in your mind, and you find yourself smiling despite your confusion. By the time you finish and step out of the bathroom, you’ve convinced yourself it was all just playful teasing.

But when you head back downstairs, Nico’s the first to look up from his spot at the kitchen counter. His gaze locks on yours for a heartbeat longer than it should, and the faintest smile tugs at his lips.

Maybe it wasn’t teasing after all.

+

+

Two weeks moved by quickly - your days often starting with a hearty home cooked breakfast and lounging by the lake - more often then not your time spent sprawled on a beach towel, watching your sister and her boyfriend fall deeper in love with each other. Luca had pulled you aside early on Sunday morning, your final week in Switzerland quickly approaching. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something, really quickly.” He says quietly, his gaze shooting over to your sister who is sprawled across the couch, fast asleep. You nod, letting Luca lead the way out of the house, his eyes glancing over his shoulder every now and then to make sure no one follows you out of the house. When you reach a spot a safe distance away Luca finally stops, taking in a deep breath before blurting out. 

“I want to marry your sister.” 

Your breath catches for a moment, not out of shock but at the suddenness of his confession. Luca's face is flushed, his usually calm and collected demeanour replaced by an almost boyish nervousness. He quickly continues, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if afraid you'd interrupt.

"I know it might seem fast, and I get that. But I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. She’s… she’s everything to me. And I wanted to come to you first because I respect you, and I know how close you two are."

He shifts his weight, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence wavering. "I’ve been carrying the ring around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. But I need to know you’re okay with it. That we have your blessing too."

You’re silent for a beat, the gravity of his words settling over you. It’s not as though you hadn’t noticed the way Luca looked at your sister—like she was the sun and he’d never tire of basking in her warmth. But hearing his intentions laid out so plainly catches you off guard.

"What if I said no?" you ask, your tone light, testing.

Luca’s eyes widen slightly, but to his credit, he doesn’t falter. "Then I’d keep trying. I’d keep proving myself until you saw what I see. But I hope you won’t say no."

A small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. His sincerity is disarming, and as much as the thought of your sister marrying someone might make you protective, you can’t deny the truth in his words. They’re good together—good for each other.

"You’re sure about this?" you ask, tilting your head. "Because it’s not just about loving her, you know. It’s about being patient when she’s stubborn, supporting her when she’s feeling lost, and—"

"—And reminding her every day how incredible she is," Luca finishes, his voice steady now. "Yes. I’m sure."

For a moment, you study him, searching for any cracks in his resolve. But there are none. What you find instead is a man who loves your sister with his whole heart. And in that moment, you know you can’t deny him.

"Alright," you finally say, crossing your arms with a small smirk. "But if you ever hurt her, you’ll have to answer to me."

Luca exhales, relief washing over his features, and he nods earnestly. "Deal."

The two of you start walking back to the house, the tension from earlier replaced with an easy camaraderie. As you step onto the porch, Luca pauses, looking at you one last time.

“Thank you," he says softly. "It means a lot."

You nod, glancing toward the window where your sister is still asleep, oblivious to the conversation that just took place. "Just make her happy, Luca. That’s all I ask." Luca nods once with determination, turning back to you quickly with an apologetic look on his face. 

“Um, there’s a chance we might not be home tonight.” He warns, a wide eyed look on your face as he bounds up the stairs, the small square box more obvious in his pant pocket as he walks. 

“I take it he finally told you?” Nico’s voice makes you jump, his body radiating heat as he steps up besides you, a small smile on his face as he looks up to where his brother just disappeared. 

“You knew?” 

“I knew since the first time he told me about her.” Nico admits, his smile growing as the memory of his brothers immediate infatuation hits him. “I guess it’s just you and I tonight then.” He adds, his grin changing from soft to teasing, his eyes dropping to yours for a moment before glancing back up the stairs. 

“I suppose I better make it worth your while.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans forwards, his breath ghosting over your lips - his finger tip ever so gently pushing a piece of hair away from your face. 

Your heart skips a beat as Nico's words hang in the air, the playful glint in his eyes offset by the way his gaze lingers on you, filled with something deeper. You’re caught between his closeness and the sudden intimacy of the moment, unsure whether to lean into it or laugh it off. 

Before you can decide, the front door creaks open behind you, and both of you instinctively step apart. The interruption feels jarring, pulling you back to reality. It’s just the wind, you realize, but the moment has shifted.

Nico chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, I couldn’t help myself," he murmurs, though there’s no real regret in his voice. Instead, there’s a teasing warmth, a sense of waiting to see how you’ll respond.

You give him a playful nudge, breaking the tension with a small laugh. "Smooth, Hischier."

Nico grins, his dimples on full display, and the sight makes your stomach flip. Turning back toward the house before he can see the blush creeping up your neck. "I’m not as easy to impress as my sister, you’ll have to work hard to gain my favour."

"Challenge accepted," Nico calls after you, his laughter chasing you through the house.

+

+

The evening comes quietly, the house settling into a tranquil lull without Luca and your sister around. True to his word, Nico sticks by your side, his easy humour keeping the night light as the two of you make dinner together.

You find yourself watching him as he moves around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, his focus shifting between the chopping board and the stovetop. There’s a comfort in his presence, an ease that you hadn’t realised you’d grown to enjoy over the past two weeks.

At some point, Nico catches you staring, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. "What?" he asks, his voice soft but curious.

"Nothing," you say quickly, looking away, but the warmth in his gaze makes it hard to hide your smile.

Later, after the dishes are cleared and the sun has set, the two of you find yourselves on the couch , a bottle of wine between you. All the windows in the house are open, the cooling breeze just barely easing the burning in your skin, Nico’s gaze heating you up from the inside. 

"You know," Nico begins, breaking the silence, "I think this is the first time I’ve had my brother to thank for something like this."

"Like what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He tilts his head toward you, his expression soft but intent. "For meeting you."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. But as you meet his gaze, the guarded part of your heart begins to crack, just a little, under the weight of his honesty.

"I guess I’ll have to thank him too," you say softly, and Nico’s smile grows, quiet and full of promise. 

The stars above seem impossibly bright outside, their reflection on the lake shimmering like liquid silver in the quiet night. The air feels thick with unspoken words, the kind that settle into comfortable silence but beg to be released. You steal a glance at Nico, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the low lights in the house. His eyes are fixed on the lake, but there’s something contemplative about his expression, like he’s wrestling with whether to speak.

Finally, he turns to you, his voice low, intimate. "You ever have one of those moments where you feel like everything’s exactly as it’s meant to be?"

His question catches you off guard, but the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the answer to that very thought—leaves you breathless.

"Maybe," you reply, your voice just above a whisper. "I think I’m starting to understand what that feels like."

Nico’s lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that’s both tender and sure. He leans a little closer, his elbows resting on his knees as his gaze stays locked on yours. 

"Good," he says simply, his voice carrying more meaning than the single word could hold.

"You don’t make this easy, you know," he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles along the front of your thigh.

"Don’t make what easy?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly, though you already know the answer.

"Not wanting to kiss you," he admits, his tone both teasing and earnest. His words send a jolt through you, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything: the warmth of his hand, the faint scent of cologne clinging to him, the way his breath hitches slightly as he waits for your response.

"You don’t have to not want to," you say, barely recognising your own voice. It’s an invitation, one he doesn’t hesitate to accept.

Nico leans in slowly, his free hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his touch featherlight as if he’s afraid to break the moment. His big brown eyes search yours one last time, giving you the chance to pull away.

 But you don’t.

 Instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway.

When his lips finally press against yours, it’s soft, tentative at first, as though he’s savouring the moment. But as you respond, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer towards you, his kiss deepens, growing more confident, more certain. There’s a warmth in it, a mix of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy, the world around you fading until it’s just the two of you.

When you break apart, your chests are heaving the two of your looking at each other for a moment, Nico’s hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs, lifting them to manoeuvre you more comfortably on the couch, your back leaning against the arm rest, your legs bent at the knees, falling open slightly to make room for Nico’s broad build. 

Nico takes the invitation, slipping into the gap between your legs before lowering his mouth back to yours, your hands lifting to cup his jaw as his hand sit firmly against the back of your thighs, lifting them to circle around his waist, as his mouth leaves yours, his lips finding the tender curve of your jaw, just below the ear, his kisses firmer on the underside of your jaw. 

“Nico?” You speak in a whisper, Nico humming his response against your skin, his lips never stopping their movements.  “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” You add, your hands dropping to his shoulders, digging into his corded muscles as he sucks a particularly sensitive spot. 

“You want me to stop?” He asks, pulling his face away from your neck to look down at you, his brows furrowed in concern, his eyes trying to read yours. 

“No, I just…” You start, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you fumble for what to say. 

“You’re overthinking it.” Nico guesses, his head nodding quickly as he begins to understand the situation. “Come.” He says, pulling himself off the lounger, your brain having to fight your body to let him go. He offers you hand to help you stand, watching as your adjust your shorts and run your fingers through your hair. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, as Nico keeps his hand in yours slowly guiding you towards the stairs. 

“To my room.” He explains, sending you a reassuring smile as he adds, “Do all the thinking you want, but if you step through the door with me then you need to turn your brain off.” He walks slowly up the stairs, his fingers still locked with yours as you trail behind him, your mind racing at a million miles an hours as the two of your silently make you way to his bedroom, stopping just outside the closed door. 

Nico pauses, his eyes locked with yours as he watches you for a moment. He always thought you were so hard to read - keeping yourself closed off from most of the world, but right now, in this moment Nico can see everything. 

“Let me take care of you, Schatz.” He whispers, the term on endearment slipping off his tongue with no concern in the world. The term something you had heard his older brother call your sister countless times. The playful ease was gone from Nico’s face, his expression only holding a soft patience, his eyes refusing to break contact with yours. 

“Okay.” You nod softly, eye contact never breaking as Nico turns the door handle the door swinging open, the large man taking a few steps inside before pausing to wait. 

You pause at the threshold, your fingers still curled around Nico’s, your heart thundering in your chest. The room beyond feels impossibly intimate, softly lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. The air carries the faint scent of his cologne, mingled with the warmth of the day that still lingers in the walls.

Nico doesn’t rush you. He stands just inside, his gaze steady, his patience unwavering. His thumb brushes lightly against the back of your hand, a gentle anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

"You don’t have to," he murmurs, his voice low and careful. "But if you do… I promise I’ll take care of you. No pressure. No expectations."

There’s something disarming in his honesty, in the way he’s offering you the choice without pushing for a particular outcome. It makes your chest ache, that guarded part of you cracking just a little more.

You take a step forward, your breath hitching as you cross the threshold. The door clicks softly shut behind you, the sound somehow final and freeing all at once. Nico lets go of your hand only to reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingers, his palm warm against your cheek.

"You’re sure?" he asks, his gaze searching yours one last time.

Instead of answering, you close the distance between you, rising on your toes to kiss him. It’s slower this time, deliberate, your hands settling on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. Nico exhales softly against your lips, his arms circling your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

When the kiss breaks, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against his as you try to steady yourself. His hands trail down your back, stopping at the curve of your hips.

“Follow my lead,” he murmurs, guiding you toward the bed. He sits first, his legs spreading slightly as he pulls you between them. His hands find your waist again, holding you steady as he looks up at you, his expression open and full of unspoken promises.

You settle into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands tentatively tracing the line of his jaw. His stubble is rough beneath your fingertips, a grounding contrast to the tenderness in his eyes.

Nico tilts his head, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm before placing it over his heart. "Whatever you need, however far you want to go—just tell me."

The weight of his sincerity leaves you speechless for a moment. You nod, unable to do much else, and Nico smiles, that same soft, patient curve of his lips that always seems to put you at ease. "Good," he says, his voice a soothing rumble. "Now, let’s take this one moment at a time." And as his lips find yours again, slow and steady, you let yourself sink into the moment, the rest of the world falling away.

All of Nico’s movements are slow and purposeful, his large hands smoothing down from your hips and under the hem of your shorts, grabbing fistfuls of your ass, a grin growing on his face as your grind forwards against his lap. Nico rolls the two of you your back landing against the mattress with a bounce as he rolls on top of you, his hands teasing the edges of your panties before he pulls them away. 

“I think your ass is the best thing I’ve ever touched in my life.” Nico mumbles, his pupils blown as he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing up the front of your thighs, watching as you gasp a little and his hands dip underneath your shirt, tracing the underwire of your bra. “But all I can think about is getting a taste of you.” His voice is gravely, a devilish grin on his face as his hands make their way back down to the waist band of your pants. 

“Wait.” You cut in, your hands gripping his wrists as his hands pause their movements on your shorts, his eyes shooting up to yours in concern, a raised brow as he waits for you to explain. “I’ve just never…” You start hesitating as you realise how stupid you’re about to sound. 

Nico reels back a little in surprise, his brows pinching in a frown as he thinks for a moment before spitting out, “But you’ve had a boyfriend, no?” He seems to reconsider his words for a moment before adding, “Mia told me you’ve dated before.” 

“I’ve had a boyfriend.” You explain, “But he never saw the importance of…that.” You try to get out the words but they seem stuck in your throat, your head nodding down to where Nico has his hands as if that will explain everything. 

“Well then he sounds like a bad boyfriend.” Nico cuts in, his smile back on his face as he slowly inches your shorts down, both of you silent as he slips them down and off your legs, throwing them to the side. “This.” He says giving you a pointed look, “Is the bare minimum.” Nico slowly shuffles back on the mattress until he has no choice but to lift himself up and onto the floor, perching on his knees as he reaches for your thighs again. 

His grip is firm on your legs, his hands splayed against the plush flesh as he shoots you a quick smirk before tugging your roughly down the bed, until your throbbing cunt is level with his face. “I want to hear every pretty sound that I can pull out of you.” Nico warns, his fingers looping over the sides of your panties before pulling them off as well. 

“I want you to do whatever feels right…” He looks up at your in anticipation, as you lift yourself onto your elbows, watching as he places soft kisses against the inside of your thighs, “Mainly I want you to feel good, so use your words.” He gives you one more look, your head nodding at his instructions as he leans forwards. 

The first swipe of his hot tongue has your arms collapsing out from under you, your back hitting the mattress roughly as you feel Nico smile against you, going in for more. Nico’s tongue works wonders with long slow swipes against you, his arms looping around your thighs to hold them steady, his grin never leaving his face as you let out a soft moan, your hands leaving the mattress to tangle in his long locks. 

It’s when his mouth closes over you, sucking that your back arches off the bed. “Holy shit.” You whine, your fingers tugging lightly on Nico’s hair, a rough grunt leaving him as his efforts double. You can feel his muscles straining as your hips buck against his face, his arms still holding you in place as his fingers tickle soft circles against your skin. 

“Nico, please.” You cry, yours hips bucking again as you feel your pleasure climb. How you’d never experience something like this before was insane to you. 

“Nico what?” He asks, leaving your wet pussy for a moment while he waits for you to respond, his stubble scraping up the inside of your thighs as he catches his breath, your hand still tangled in his hair. 

“Fingers.” You pant, “Please use your fingers.” You beg, Nico kissing your thigh once more before diving back in, one of his hands leaving it’s spot against your thigh, slowly dipping to your entrance, gathering a mixture of spit and arousal before plunging inside you, your hands releasing Nico’s hair in favour of gripping the bed sheets. 

“Fuck, Nico.” You curse, letting out a harsh pant before adding. “Another one.” Nico happily obliges, his second finger joining the party as his rubs them against the soft spots inside of you. Nico lifts his face away from you, his fingers doing all the works as he takes you in. 

You hands tangled in the sheets, grounding you for dear life as his fingers pump in and out of you. Soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezed shut as tight as they can go, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately trying to keep them inside. 

“I’m so close.” You hiss, the feeling borderline painful as you try to hold on. 

“I know, Shatz.” He whispers, his hot breath caressing over your wetness, “Just relax into it.” He whispers before his mouth descends on you again, your orgasm ripped from you, as your legs shiver besides his head, trying their hardest to squeeze shut around his head. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You swear, as Nico pulls his fingers from you, his tongue not finished as you try to wiggle your pelvis away from his face. 

“No.” Nico growls, his hands moving faster then you can, gripping your thighs and pulling you straight back to him, his tongue lapping up every drop until he’s certain he didn’t miss anything. Nico’s grip on you loosens as he feels your body relax, almost melting into the mattress. “Good girl.” He coos as he dips his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean before climbing back onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours. 

“Was it too much?” He asks softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, your eyes finally popping open, the colour in your eyes almost completely disappearing behind your dilated pupils. Nico’s breath catches, your eyes shining like the night when you first saw the stars. 

Nico knew then that he was a goner. 

“I want more.” Your voice is quiet, almost ashamed of the request but you can feel the flutter in your chest as Nico nods with determination, pushing himself off the bed once more as he starts to strip himself of his clothes. 

“Shirt off.” He says quickly to you, your mouth falling open at his authoritative tone, “I want to see all of you.” He adds as he notices your hesitation, your throat bobbing as you lift yourself into a sitting position to pull of your shirt, throwing it to join the rest of the pile on the floor, your hands reaching behind you to release the clasp on your bra. You cross an arm over your chest as you drop the bra to the floor, your hand only dropping once you see the scolding in Nico’s eyes. 

“Fuck me.” It’s Nico’s turn to curse as he takes you in. “Stay right there, I need to commit this to memory.” He groans as his eyes skim over every inch of your body, your skin flushing as you watch him take you in. 

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers to himself, palming himself through his boxers to release some of the tension. “I’ve never been with anyone like you.” He admits, your eyes rolling as he finally strips himself of his underwear, his rock hard cock springing free, he leans forwards sliding open a bedside table drawer, pulling out a foil package. 

“Yeah, you’ve only ever been with perfect model types.” You laugh, watching as Nico rips open the package, slowly rolling the condom onto his dick before climbing onto the mattress, sitting with his back against the headboard. “Typical NHL player.” You joke, your laugh faltering as you notice Nico’s continued expression of awe. 

“You are perfection.” He cuts through your silence, his hand reaching out for you to join him. “You are like a gift from Aphrodite.” He adds, your heart thumping heavier at his praise.  

Nico watches you climb on top of him, your thighs straddling his, your hands bracing against his shoulders. Nico tilts his head back against the headboard wanting to be able to look directly into your eyes as often as he can. 

He looks at you like you’ve hung to moon, because in his opinion — you have. 

Nico watches - like he always does - as you softly grab hold of his cock, pumping it a few time, a soft hiss of air escaping him as you line him up with your cunt. Nico’s patient as you slide down him, pausing to adjust every few moments until your sitting comfortably in his lap - your pussy fuller then it’s ever been. 

Everything is in your control. 

Everything revolves around you. 

Nico’s head falls into the crook of your neck, soft curses leaving him as his arms wrap around you tightly, pulling your body against his, your hips slowly rolling forwards and back, forwards and back.

“You’re a goddess.” He whispers against your skin, his arms holding you steady as your movements speed up, a soft creak of the bed filling the room. 

“I would give you anything and everything.” He continues, the words almost falling out of him like a prayer, as he presses featherlight kisses against your bare skin, your breasts pressed firmly against his chest. You let out a whine as he bucks his hips to meet your movements. 

He lifts one thumb to his mouth, briefly dipping it inside before dropping it your where your hips meet, his thumb slowly putting pressure on your throbbing clit - rubbing in soft circles. He can’t help but smile as your hips stutter and your pussy clenches around his cock, the signs of your incoming orgasm relieving him as the feeling builds in the pit of his stomach. 

The two of you finish one after the other, Nico coming first with a curse his hands gripping your hips to keep them moving as he feels your orgasm wash over you, your body almost collapsing against him as you let him continue to guide your hips, riding both of you through the orgasms. 

Nico finally lets your hips go, your movements stopping as you both take in deep breaths of air - the room silent other than your breathing.

“I think you’ve ruined me.” Nico whispers against your skin, placing one more kiss to your shoulder before pulling his head away from you, his hands raising to push your hair out of your face as he helps you sit back up, your eyes dazed as you look down at him. 

“Ditto.” Is all you manage out, a soft chuckle leaving you as you try to pull yourself away from Nico, his dick sliding out of you at an excruciating place. “Do you have a shower in here by any chance?” You question as you finally make it off the bed, the sticky, sweaty feeling finally hitting you. 

Nico nods quickly, shuffling off the bed to walk around you, grabbing a towel from his closet and showing you into the bathroom, your arms covering your chest as he turns the shower to a mildly scalding temperature for you. “I’ll wait outside.” He says quickly, making his way to the door before hesitating. 

He turns back around, stepping forwards to pull you in for one more breath stealing kiss, his smile lighting up his face as he mumbles a quick “sorry,” before leaving you alone in the bathroom, your legs shaking from everything that had happened. 

The two of you ended up tangled together in Nico’s bed - the man having the decency to change his sheets before almost begging you to join him - his arms opened wide and inviting as you step out of the bathroom - his shirt hanging over the foot of the bed in offering of some modesty. 

“I really really like you.” Nico whispers against your hair as he wraps his arms around your middle, pulling your back tight against his chest, his breathing lulling you both to sleep, your bodies both depleted. 

It isn’t lost on Nico that you don’t respond, but he can feel the way your fingers squeeze his and he knows, you feel the same too. 

The early rising of the sun guides you as you slowly slip out of Nico’s arms, tugging his shirt down to cover as much of you as possible as you bend to pick up your clothes off the floor. You’re almost at the door when you hear Nico sit up in the bed, his hand pushing his hair off his forehead as he squints at you. 

“Where are you going?” He questions, a small pout growing on his face, “Why are you leaving?” He adds, his expression so genuinely distraught you falter, rushing towards the bed to press a soft kiss against his mouth. 

“Back to my room - Luca and Mia will be home soon.” You respond, pressing a second kiss to his mouth before fulfilling your original plan of escaping back to the bright sun lighting up your bedroom. 

+

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By midweek, something had shifted. Nico couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the ease that had settled between you both after that night now seemed... off. He’d catch you pulling away when he leaned in too close, or your smile would falter just a second too soon when he said something meant to make you laugh.

It wasn’t dramatic, not really. Nothing explicit had been said or done, but Nico could feel it like a weight on his chest. You still smiled at him, still reached out for him when you thought no one was looking, but there was a distance now—something unspoken and sharp.

Wednesday evening found Nico sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. His fingers itched to call you, text you, something, but he didn’t want to come across as needy. He ruffled his hair with both hands, frustrated with himself for feeling so thrown off.

“What did I do wrong?” he muttered under his breath.

The question had been swirling in his head all day. Everything had seemed so perfect that morning—your soft kisses, the way you lingered just long enough to make it feel like you didn’t really want to leave. But now, it was like the world had tilted slightly, throwing everything off balance.

By Thursday, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered you in the hallway, gently grabbing your wrist as you tried to brush past him.

“Can we talk?” he said softly, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of what was going on. You hesitated, your lips parting like you might brush him off, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand on your wrist wasn’t demanding; it was desperate.

“Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He led you outside, the cool evening air biting at your skin as you stepped onto the patio. Nico let go of your wrist but didn’t move far, his hands now shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did I do something?” he asked, his voice barely steady. “I just... it feels like something’s changed, and I don’t know what. If I messed up, I need you to tell me, Bee. I can’t—” He broke off, looking down as his jaw tightened.

You stared at him, your heart sinking at the vulnerability in his voice. He wasn’t just confused; he was hurt.

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, stepping closer, though your arms stayed wrapped around yourself. “Nico, it’s not you. I just... I’m scared, okay? About what this is, about how fast everything’s moving. It’s not that I don’t care—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip. “I do care. That’s the problem.”

Nico’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Bee. I just need to know where we stand. You can tell me anything.”

Your throat tightened at his words, the sincerity in his gaze almost overwhelming. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing his.

“I’m trying,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I just... I need time to figure this out. Can you give me that?”He nodded quickly, his relief evident even as his expression remained serious. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’ll wait. Just—just don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t handle that.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I won’t,” you promised.

Saturday morning hit everyone like a train - your sister had decided to stay in Switzerland for a few more weeks, wanting to spend some time making rough plans with her new fiancé, which left you catching the almost twenty four hour flight home, alone. 

“You’ve got everything?” Your sister asks as you put your suitcase in the back of the car — Nico standing by the drivers door with the keys in his hand. 

“Yep, thank you guys for everything - I think this was the best holiday I’ve ever had.” You say softly, leaning forwards to pull your older sister into a tight hug before turning towards Luca and pulling him in for one too. 

“We’re family now, you can come back anytime.” Luca says cheerfully, patting your head softly before turning to wrap his arms around his now sobbing fiancé. “No need to cry, she’ll be okay.” He coos at your sister, his words only making her sob harder. You chuckle at your sisters dramatics, waving a final goodbye to Luca before slipping into the passenger seat of the car, Nico sliding in besides you. 

The drive to the airport is quiet, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the mountains. Nico keeps his hands on the wheel, his jaw tight as though he’s holding back something he doesn’t want to say. You glance over at him, studying the curve of his brow and the tension in his lips.

You want to memorise as much of him as you can, before you go. 

Finally, as the airport looms into view, he pulls the car into an empty space and cuts the engine. The silence stretches between you, heavy and loaded. Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He takes a deep breath before adding “Please stay.” The words hang in the air, and your heart tightens painfully in your chest. You want to say yes, to give into the magnetic pull between you and stay in this dreamlike moment forever. 

But reality is relentless.

“We have our lives to return to, Nico,” you say softly, looking down at your hands. “We can’t just stay here trapped in time, forever.”

He turns to face you, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that makes your resolve waver. “Will we see each other again?” he asks, his voice trembling just enough to reveal the weight of the question.

You pause, the enormity of your feelings crashing over you like a wave. “Someday,” you say, meeting his gaze and offering a faint smile.

“Someday,” he repeats, the word a lifeline he’s choosing to cling to. Then, as if convincing himself, he nods. “I can live with someday.”

You reach over, placing a hand over his. For a moment, the world feels frozen, just the two of you in this car, this fleeting moment that feels both heartbreaking and hopeful. Then, with a deep breath, you pull away, opening the door and stepping out.

As you grab your suitcase from the trunk, Nico stays by the car, watching you with an expression you know will haunt you for a long time. You wave one last time before heading into the airport, your heart heavy but filled with a quiet determination.

Someday.

You can live with someday too.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Platonic Yan! Batboys x Batsis darling

A/N: I want to talk about the concept of batsis having a s/o or a crush and how the family would react to that. I'm sure this concept might've been done but if i may speak-

Warnings: Obsession, relationship sabotage, overbearing family dynamics

Requests: always open.

Masterlist

Dick Grayson

I think he's kind of complex about this issue. I don't think !yan Dick would have a problem with you dating in itself. Like there is so many siblings and no way to keep all of these hormonal teen and young adults at bay. He's been there, he gets it.

But there's some conditions. You have to have a good relationship with dick, first. It you are close, that means you tell him...everything. He can easily monitor you and the progression of things. You'll be trusted to tell him is something goes wrong and he can step in. You won't mind Dick tagging along or being generally invasive. You won't forget about him or the family, he knows that you'll drop everything and come running. His grip is already secured firmly around you and your mind so theres no reason to worry. Have fun, be safe.

If you're anything like my previous posts where batsis is not close with dick in the slightest, he'd sabotage that relationship. He's not having it at all. Your dating is a threat to the family. You already have an apprehension of him, so anyone can swoop in and take his sis away. He doesn't want that. He doesn't trust your judgement or decision making skills enough. Dick knows that if someone hurt you or was dangerous, you'd hid it from him. You refuse to give Dick any sort of access to your life so therefore dating is a no. Sorry baby bat, it's for your own good!

But maybe i'm wrong. Maybe Dick doesn't want any of his siblings dating..especially his batsis. I've said before that Dick has given up his previous relationships among other things for the family. His siblings are his most important priority and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they're properly provided for. What if he expects the same. He's jealous over the fact you all get to go out and date and he cannot because he's stuck playing dad? What if he's jealous that you're spending all your time with someone else? You don't have time for your older brother anymore

He's hurt when you embarrassingly hide your partner from him. You're critiquing everything he does and tells him not to call you by the nicknames he gave you. Yan! Dick hates being discarded. And maybe, none of this happened? Maybe you gladly show off your brother to your partner? Maybe just the thought of you one day getting married and leaving him fills his mind. He overthinks about being left here alone like Bruce was...he doesn't want that. He cannot have that. You cannot date for your own good...for his own good

Jason Todd

I don't think he'll ever vocalize his true feelings. and reluctantly allows it. Jason is rather against you dating, but because he doesn't trust anyone outside of the family. Plus he doesn't like that he gets to see you way less now.

Jason would be the brother that'd be cleaning his guns while you're introducing you partner to him. His tone is sharp and he doesn't embrace them once. He wants them to know there is someone in your life that'll kill for you if they hurt you.

I think if Jason sensed the person you were dating wasn't any good, he'd handle it privately. Your partner ghosts you for three days then sends a "i don't want to see you ever again." text. Weird. Everything was going great. Luckily your brother Jason just got back from his three day trip to comfort you.

If the partner is good but he doesn't really get any time with you, i think he's get a little out of character. Suddenly he's a lot more clingy to you when you're there. He's just following you around the entire house and wanting to spend every second with you. If it gets bad enough he will have to intervene with his other siblings. He misses you. This whole dating things sucks, who needs them when you have a perfect family. They're all you need.

Damien Wayne

He doesn't like change. At. All. This family is perfect as it is.

So don't mess it up by changing the natural order of things. This partner of yours is a nuisance. An incompetent, brain dead loser who is dragging you down with them. You don't need them. Damien is rather offended that you felt like you even needed something more outside of the family. What does this prick have that they don't?

He's weary of the fact that this person wanted to date you. Not that you're not enough but you're a Wayne now. People always wants something, if not money, its something else. You're foolish for this.

On a deeper level, Damien feels like he's loosing a parent. It's clear that your partner doesn't like your younger brother or even want him around. He misses you driving him around, reading together and sneaking out. You've never taken his often impolite banter to heart, you loved him as he was. He felt drawn to you. You were like a mother figure to him..don't do this. He;s sad and thinks you don't love him anymore.

Tim Drake

Maybe the least closest to you. You probably think he doesn't even like you but it's not true. He's just an observer more than a hands on type of person. He's just as yandere as the others, he cares. The second he got the name of your partner, he spends all day searching up dirt on them. He has a file of blackmail sitting pretty on his hard drive in case that person hurts you.

He's not confrontational like the rest. He's a bit too socially awkward for that but if he seriously felt you were in danger, he'd stop you. I think he'd mainly plot with the others to sabotage the relationship.

Like Damien, he doesn't understand why you need someone so badly. The family is more that fulfilling to him so why not for you? Time misses the little things like when you'd bring him food to his desk, or usher him to take a break from his computer. He misses your laughter and interactions with the rest of the family. He doesn't feel safe with you being out so much. The world is a dangerous place, it's safer here, where everyone can protect you. They all love you, and their love combined is far stronger than your partners.

[slttygeto]

THINK I FORGOT, HOW TO BE HAPPY.

⤷ what was I made for? | something i’m made for

જ⁀➴ synopsis: after hanging out with Suguru's friends, you head home and can't wait to bury it down like you always do. But when your boyfriend insists on knowing what upset you, the night takes a turn for the worst.

જ⁀➴ word count: 2,8k

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, hurt/no comofrt, angst, fights, suguru is a little mean and says mean shit but reader isn’t any better.

જ⁀➴ note: sorry for the long wait, i'm struggling to work on many things at once. but a huge thank you for showing the first part so much love! it was truly unexpected.

ʚ⁺˖ ⤷ tag list: @error404-tryagain @fiannee @anarosextodo @ayeputita (couldn't tag everyone for some reason, my bad!)

⤷ comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Suguru remembers when he first fell in love with you, how his face felt warm when you wrapped your arms around him and told him to have a safe trip, the little bag of goodies you had prepared for him sitting atop of his suitcase. He remembers pulling you into a deep kiss in the middle of a crowded airport, and he wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, has never been—but something about you caring for him, preparing food for his flight and showing up as he was about to board made his heart leap out of his chest.

Your first I love you to each other was shared when you realized you couldn’t handle being away from each other for longer than a day. You move in together shortly after he returns from his travel.

You don’t remember when you started to feel out of place, but it makes its way up and towards the back of your head like a parasite—your emotions were always too much for anyone to handle. You recently had a breakdown over messing up at work, and you’ve never seen Suguru look more lost than when he tried to comfort you. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern, he looks defeated when you refuse to let him touch or hug you. You were a mess, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

When you do calm down and are finally able to breathe properly, your brain flashes you little moments from your breakdown like a flashback—almost as though to shame and embarrass you for the way you behaved, all while your perfect boyfriend looks defeated at your lack of cooperation. You’re not sure if it is true, you hope that it’s not—but you see Suguru sit at the edge of the bed and bury his face in his hands and he curses under his breath. He looks tired.

It’s because of me.

When Suguru notices that your breakdowns become less frequent, he is convinced that you are slowly working towards getting better, praises and showers you with compliments. This is the Suguru you always want to see, full of life and love and not the one you saw that night.

And so you decide that from now on, Suguru wasn’t made to see you at your lowest.

--

Dinner ends an hour later and you almost run out of the restaurant and towards the car. Suguru is quick to join you, and from the corner of your eyes, you see Gojo standing near his car and his eyes are staring into your soul. You were grateful that he didn’t tell your boyfriend about the bathroom incident. You confided in the male at such a vulnerable moment and you would’ve been pretty upset if he went against your wishes.

You’re as quiet as ever as Suguru starts the car and drives away. You’re mindful of the way you sit not to face Suguru, and decide on letting him pick the songs to play on the way back. And your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re avoiding him like the plague, after all this wasn’t the first time you were eerily quiet on the way back home. But you were wrong.

Suguru watches you as you walk inside your shared apartment and remove your shoes. You’re not wearing any specific expression indicating that you might be upset. After all, you did have a habit of frowning as a resting face. But it feels different as you quietly greet your cat with a head pat, choosing to head to the kitchen first since you knew Suguru would go to the bathroom for a quick shower.

You were avoiding him.

“Did I do something?” Your boyfriend watches as you halt your movements, the glass of water in your hand long forgotten as you stare at him wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Huh?”

“You’re avoiding me, did something happen?” Suguru tries to remember the night you spent outside. He has no clear memory of saying or doing something that you might’ve tipped you over the edge, so what was wrong? You were never this quiet.

“I’m fine, Sugu. You didn’t do anything.” The smile you flash him does anything but reassure him. You ignore the frown that sits on his face and you turn around, your back facing him as you try to busy yourself with something—anything, but facing the man you called your boyfriend.

“Then why are you acting so distant?” So he was able to pick up on it. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to, maybe breaking up with him would be much easier that way. You are quiet as ever as you turn around and walk toward the fridge.

You were distant because Suguru wasn’t supposed to see you like this, he wasn’t supposed to know how much of an insecure mess you were when he was around, how you were desperately trying to get him to fall out of love. You can barely say I love you to him without feeling guilty about it. Did you truly deserve his love? It felt like he was wasting his time on someone as miserable as you.

“I am not distant, just tired.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, you were tired. You wanted to sleep so badly, wanted to drown the lingering thoughts of never feeling enough as Suguru’s girlfriend, but feeling whole and complete when you are yourself outside of your relationship. This was a you problem, and dragging Suguru down with you felt a little unfair.

“You were crying in the restaurant.” Your heart stills at this. “But you lied and said you were fine.”

“Did Satoru—“

“Satoru doesn’t know you better than I do.” His tone is sharp, and you’re taken aback by the harsh way he chooses to address you. Was this about to escalate into something else? You didn’t want it to, you didn’t have the energy to fight back and tell him to choose his tone carefully. You might’ve been the easy-going, kind girlfriend—but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect from his part.

“You’re right, he doesn’t.” You sound almost defeated, and you put your glass in the sink before wiping your hands on the towel. Suguru stands near the kitchen island, and watches you with cat-like eyes. You were barely looking his way, the dark circles under your eyes prominent despite your effort at covering them up with make-up. When did Suguru start paying less attention to you? Or did you simply never allow him to see you like this, vulnerable and exhausted. His heart aches in his chest.

“So you won’t tell me?” You’re about to walk away when he decides to speak, and you heave out a long sigh when you realize that the night was taking a turn for the worst.

“Tell you what?” You mumble under your breath, and you refuse to meet Suguru’s cold eyes. You can feel them on your skin, they’re intense and trying to read you like a book. Perhaps if you don’t look his way, his stare would feel less intimidating.

“Would you please just stop?” Suguru rests his elbows on his the surface of the kitchen island, burying his face in his hands. “I’m really trying to figure out what’s wrong, and you’re not helping.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong.” Your response comes out almost immediately, and the frustration you’ve been suppressing all night suddenly resurfaces. Months of trying to play it cool, sweeping your insecurities under the rug and hoping that a kiss from Suguru would fix all of your problems, it was all piling up into this huge bubble. And the more persistent your boyfriend was, the harder it was to stay quiet.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” Suguru’s voice is a little bit louder, and he’s almost in disbelief at your words. You were dating, you slept on the same bed, ate on the same table and cuddled on the same couch. You weren’t a girl he started dating last month, or a person he was testing out the waters with—you weren’t even a potential lifetime partner, but he was almost certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Because it’s useless to whine to you about shit you don’t need to know. My problems are mine, you don’t have to fix me.” You feel yourself shake a little the more you speak, your heart is beating fast at the realization that this was a conflict—you were creating a conflict and it felt suffocating.

“Fix you—who said I have to fix you?”

“Right, no one did—Suguru, just drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do.” His tone is sharp, and his hands are curled up in fists. His eyes are staring you down the same way he looks at strangers—threatening, cold and mean. You find yourself tearing up and it makes you feel stupid. You started this, you’re the one who doesn’t feel enough in the relationship—you’re the one being mean, and yet a single look from Suguru has you almost bursting into tears? Pathetic. You felt pathetic and weak, and the longer your boyfriend stared at you, the harder it was to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

“Suguru, I don’t want to talk about it.” You try again, and you hope that your voice doesn’t betray and breaks. Tonight has been exhausting enough, and the thought of having to speak up what has been on your mind for months now makes your chest feel incredibly tight.

“You’re being selfish.”

Selfish? You were being selfish?

You stare at Suguru in disbelief and he immediately realizes how badly he must’ve fucked up because the tears start falling down your cheeks almost instantly. You, who has been pushing her feelings to the side for the sake of his happiness, were selfish? You, who can’t even remember the last time you were truly happy about something, were selfish? This is bullshit.

“I’m selfish?” Your chin quivers pathetically, and Suguru is quick to reach a hand towards you to hold you, but you flinch away from his hold, arms wrapped you to give yourself the comfort Suguru wanted to give you.

“I am selfish, me?!” Your voice is getting louder, but you didn’t care. All the frustration, all the sadness and insecurities were all coming up to the surface because of one single comment.

“Baby, I didn’t—“

“Don’t call me that, don’t you fucking dare touch me!” You move away when he attempts to hold you. “I’m selfish because I don’t wanna tell my perfect boyfriend with his perfect personality about my shitty problems. That’s just fucking great, isn’t it?”

The last time Suguru saw you like this was months ago and he doesn’t even realize it until now. All those times where you would brush off something that would normally set you off, give him a tight lipped smile and tell him not to worry.

“Your problems aren’t shitty, you don’t even want to talk about them!”

“Because every time I tried, it felt like I was robbing you of your fucking happiness, Suguru!” Your voice is loud. “Every time I realized that my mood was ruined, I could only think of how you must be fed up with me.”

“But I’m not? I never even said that I was fed up!” Suguru’s body language completely changes, and suddenly he’s not even trying to comfort you. More so understand where all of this was coming from.

“Your face says it all and fuck--” You groan into your face, your cheeks flushed from frustration.

“Oh so now it’s my face?” You raise your head to stare at him. “One moment you’re saying it’s how I behave, but now it’s all in my face?”

“You’re missing the whole point, Suguru—“

“No, I’m not missing anything! You are the one who created this situation, you’re the one who decided to pull away!” Each word feels like a knife being stabbed into your heart. You stare at the man who usually gives you warm, sweet smiles and all of that is replaced with a cold angry look.

“Suguru—“

“Selfish. Yeah, actually I don’t take it back. You are selfish,”

“Stop.” your lips quivers.

“Because if you actually wanted this to work out, you would tell me what’s wrong instead of finding excuses.”

“You’re being mean, Sugu.”  

Your boyfriend groans out of frustration and leans against the kitchen counter. You stand still next to the fridge, tears streaming down your face. You try to stop and wipe them away, but it feels as though you really needed this more than anything.

“I want to take a break.” You say quietly and Suguru’s head snaps up almost immediately.

“What?”

“I want to take a break from this—from you, I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

Instead of giving you a proper reply, Suguru storms out of the kitchen and grabs his jacket and car keys and is out of the house in less than a minute. You are frozen in your spot as you let the words you just uttered out loud sink in, and there’s a sense of guilt. You are pulling away from your relationship, you’re willingly taking a break and not looking back, but does it matter anymore?

This was by far your biggest fight with your boyfriend, and the way he stormed out at the mention of taking a break makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. But not anymore.

You can’t even remember the last time you were happy, and for it to go on for so long was so draining and tiring. You could barely recognize yourself anymore. Your feet take you towards your shared bedroom with Suguru and you start packing some of your stuff. Whether he agrees to the break or not is not important, because you were doing this for yourself. And if Suguru truly cared about you, he would let you do what is best for you.

--

Suguru didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted to get away from you and as soon as possible. The roads are empty, and he isn’t driving recklessly. In fact, he’s probably driving so slowly that it would look suspicious to anyone on the outside.

He parks the car on the side of the road and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. When did it turn into this? When did he become so absorbed in his personal life that he stopped including you or care for you? Suguru doesn’t want to blame himself, but it’s a little difficult. He thought he was living this picture perfect life with you, under one roof with a single pet and future plans ahead of you. But to fuck up this badly and call you selfish simply because you were struggling on your own was horrible.

And to make things worse, he stormed out of the house and left you there all alone. He groans into his hands.

“Fuck.” He wants to fix this. He doesn’t want a break, he doesn’t think that it’s necessary. But you looked serious about it, maybe he could talk you out of it.

He grabs his phone and dials your number, and when it takes a while for you to pick up he just knows that you must’ve been contemplating whether or not you wanted to take the call. Eventually, you do answer.

“I’m sorry,” the line on your side is quiet, so he continues. “I fucked up, I don’t think I should’ve said what I said and—“

“It’s not your fault.” Your nose is stuffed, but Suguru can tell from the tone of your voice that you were tired. “But I need some space, Suguru.”

Some space… So you were considering the break.

“We can work it out, we don’t have to take a break or anything, we can go on a date tomorrow morning and—“

“I called a cab, I’m going back to my place.” You cut him off, and Suguru hears you lock the door to his apartment. “I’m doing this for myself and for us,” Suguru closes his eyes when he realizes that there was truly no hope in talking you out of it.

“Okay… can I still text you?”

“No,” you reply quietly. “I don’t wanna think about you for a while.” He tries not to feel hurt but it’s difficult.

“I understand.” The line goes quiet for a while, and Suguru hears a few sniffles from your side and sighs.

“We’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You wipe a few tears. “I have to go now.”

“I love you.” Suguru waits for a response, and when you take too long to answer, his chest tightens a little.

“Take care, Sugu.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[zhongrin]

my archon

— you sit on the floor by his leg and lay your head on his lap; how does he react?

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, cyno, tighnari, xiao, ayato, childe, wanderer

◇ tags ◇ mostly fluff, slightly suggestive on some, petnames (dear, little one - zhongli | bunny, babe - childe | puppy - ayato)

◇ a/n ◇ is this an excuse for me to imagine getting into a position to worship zhongli? yes. yes it is-

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli, ever the gentleman, frowns at seeing you sit on the hard cold flooring and caresses your cheek gently, his other hand settling on your shoulder.

“that must be uncomfortable, dear. come rest on-”

he blinks, brows furrowing when you tell him that you want to stay down there by his feet. the protests die in his throat at the reverent gaze you give him, and something stirs in his chest. a nostalgic feeling that takes him millennia back; to the olden times when he was a feared deity of a more… disagreeable temperament.

“…. very well. but at least sit on a cushion, please,” a flutter of his long eyelashes, and for a moment you catch the shadow of his former self behind his amber eyes, “if you are so intent to worship me, who am i to refuse, little one? you already do look the part of a devoted worshipper….. hm... why don’t i teach you how to do this properly.”

al haitham glances away from his book to raise his eyebrows in amusement toward you.

“what are you doing?” he asks plainly; several possibilities pop up in his sharp-witted brain, but he would rather hear your intention from your own lips rather than blindly guess what your unexpectedly unique mind has concocted this time.

you hum nonchalantly and grab the free hand that isn’t holding his book, insistently tugging on it when he doesn’t budge. with a sigh, he lets you maneuver the appendage so it rests against the top of your head. with a roll of his eyes and a slight redness to his ears, he starts to tend to your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp every now and then in a way that you always praise him for doing.

“you’re a strange one, [name].”

hey, they do say birds of a feather flock together, right?

tighnari gives you a look. you know. that sassy side eye and a crooked smile threatening to lift one corner of his lips?

“am i not the one who’s supposed to be given headpats and pampering?” he asks teasingly, slightly moving his feet to nudge on your sides.

your boyfriend laughs at the playful glare you give him, and he releases the pen from his fingers to give you your much-needed pats. his eyes soften at the way you lean onto his touch, and he slumps backward onto his seat, exhaustion starting to settle in after hours of working on those reports and manuals.

“ten more minutes, and then it’s my turn.”

childe blinks owlishly at first, lips parted in surprise when you just decide to do this while he was just chilling on the sofa after a long day at work. his expression quickly turns into a teasing boyish grin, however, and he opts to squish your cheeks with his fingers.

“awww, seems like someone really missed me, hmm?” he leans down to place a quick kiss on your puckered lips, “why don’t you climb onto my lap, bunny? i can give you all the attention you’ve missed~”

he frowns when you refuse, and his clear blue eyes darken when you insistently hug one of his legs, your cheek pressing onto his thigh.

“be careful there, babe. you might start something if you keep that up.”

“what…. is the meaning of this, if i may ask?” cyno asks, flustered, the cards in his hands forgotten.

just seconds ago, you had pushed away the album containing his tcg cards from his lap and replaced it with your pretty head. while he doesn’t mind the sudden change at all - he can always sort out his cards later, you always come first, of course - he’s both befuddled and unsure of what you wish for him to do when you give him those pair of puppy eyes with this unfamiliar arrangement.

he follows your gaze that is locked onto his hand, which prompts him to discard his cards on top of the album and place them on your cheek, calloused thumb slowly drawing circles as he gives you a silent questioning gaze.

when you close your eyes in bliss, he chuckles, and he moves his other hand to settle on your other cheek before leaning down to kiss you on your forehead.

“how is it that you get more and more adorable the more we spend time with each other?”

kaeya raises his eyebrows, the hand swirling the glass of wine stopping its movements completely as he feels you hug his leg and place your head on his lap. instinctively, his free hand brushes against your cheek.

mischief colors the tone of his voice as you lovingly kiss his knuckles and give him those doe eyes he adores.

“my, a free leg warmer? how kind of you.”

he laughs in response to the playful slap you delivered to his thigh.

“so, are you planning to climb onto my lap anytime soon, or?”

another slap, another laugh, and kaeya leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

“i have to ask - does this leg warmer come with the service of a wine glass holder? hmm? how about a-” [lines redacted to keep this sfw]

“wha- g-get up! you shouldn’t-” xiao splutters in embarrassment, trying to grab onto your shoulders to pull you into a standing position.

his shock is quickly overwritten by utter confusion when you protest and insist on staying where you are. he ceases trying to move you from the spot, but he decides to ask, “-i… don’t understand. isn’t it uncomfortable? what are you hoping to gain from this?”

the yaksha is still at a loss even after you answer. it’s illogical, he thinks. if his attention is what he wants, why would you choose to have this discomfort when you can just sit beside him and achieve the same thing? does this position have a special meaning to mortals? he’s only seen it on the illustration of that silly romance novel written by an apparently famous mortal from inazuma that you were reading about a week ago, telling a story about a deity and his favored subject- oh.

“…. you’re so weird,” he grumbles, suddenly avoiding your eyes as redness begins to creep onto his cheeks. he is most definitely not a being worthy of worship….. but he supposes if it’s you… he can indulge, right? just for a little….

“oh dear, it seems like someone’s bored,” ayato chuckles, not even looking down from his paperwork as he repositions his legs on his plush armchair, “unfortunately, puppy, i am currently working and unable to tend to your whims.”

his smile only gets wider when he hears you whine and tug on the sleeves of his kimono. what a greedy little thing; your adorableness truly knows no bounds, he muses in amusement. but it is true that he might have been quite neglectful of your needs the past few days…

but it’s no fun to just give in that easily.

ayato gives you a glance and two short pats that are far too brief to your liking, before he returns his attention to his papers, but not before saying with a teasing edge to his tone, “stay like that for an hour while i finish my work, and i’ll give you all my attention after, alright?”

wanderer smirks and crosses his arms before leaning back on his chair, clearly amused and pleased at the sight. he attempts to move his leg away, and when you whine and chase after the limb, the puppet barks out an amused laugh, mirth dancing like electric sparks within his eyes.

“look at you, so needy and desperate for my attention,” he rolls his eyes in fake exasperation, though he doesn’t bother hiding the pleased toothy grin on his expression, “what? what do you want?”

he parries your hand away when you reach out for him, a disbelieving huff of breath escaping the ex-harbinger. the flick on your forehead is playful, and the same tone carries to his next words, like a fleeting wisp of breeze cheekily grazing your skin.

“you think you can order me around as you please? think again,” his voice lowers into a darker and softer drawl, “aren’t you already in the correct position? beg, and then, maybe i’ll consider fulfilling your request.”

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea

[rheasbabymama]

𝖜𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉

Summary: when a blizzard hits and traps you and your wife into your new house, you both find the perfect opportunity to christen the whole house. Word Count: 6.5k Warnings/Tags: domestic fluff, dirty talk, thigh riding, shower sex, oral sex, fingering, praise, kitchen sex, grinding, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, choking, table sex, soft smut, sofa sex, dom rhea/sub reader

the shrill chime of a phone alarm cruelly tore you out of your peaceful slumber, a groan indicating your annoyance leaving your lips instantly, head burying further against your makeshift pillow, the comfortable surface beneath you shaking in a small chuckle. rhea couldn’t stop the inevitable smile that took over her face at your reaction, still amused at how much you hated waking up early, your wife the polar opposite. her arm swiftly reached on the nightstand to turn the noise off, a muffled noise of appreciation leaving you as your head nuzzles further against her chest, the dark haired girl's fingers moving to your hair, softly scratching your scalp.

“i need to get up now,” she murmurs ever so softly, apologetic in her tone as your arms defiantly wrap around her middle, pulling her impossibly closer, legs tangled under the sheets as you refuse to move.

“five more minutes,” you mumble against her, her body shaking momentarily as she huffs out a small laugh, lips pressing against your hair, smile stretching wider as you melt against her body, the embrace lulling you back to your desired sleep.

"i can’t my love,” she whispers, a small noise leaving you. “not all of us have the day off,” she teases, pointing out how she still had to go to work today.

the two of you had finally moved into a larger house outside of the city, wanting to have a proper place of your own as opposed to the apartments in new york or living with damian, meaning you had to find the time to unpack properly and decorate the house in not only your belongings but christmas decorations. you had taken the next couple days off to kick start your new journey in this house, your body begging you to take advantage of the extra sleep you could have before being productive.

“plus, i don’t want h to be annoyed with me right before christmas,” she jokes, knowing how the man she was having a meeting with soon liked to secretly get her a gift, always playing it off coolly, “we both know I’m his favourite.”

“there’s no need to brag,” you mutter, making her laugh softly once again, her body cruelly parting from yours, your eyes gradually fluttering open to squint at her in annoyance, a pout evident on your face. her lips press to yours softly, making the expression switch to a small, shy smile, her eyes gazing at you adoringly as your arms move to grab her pillow, bringing it towards your body to cuddle instead. “now go shower, we don’t want h's favourite to be late,” you grumble playfully, face half smushed against the soft fabric, her angelic laugh filling the room as she listens to your words, knowing she needed to start getting ready.

while rhea was in the shower, your body started to dip in and out of consciousness, gradually falling back asleep, your duvet tucked tightly around you to keep you warm, face pressing further against her pillow, nose picking up her faint scent on it. you smiled at the smell of her, your ears faintly picking up the sound of the shower stopping, mind barely processing it as you continue to fall back into the peaceful slumber you were torn out of.

your eyes only fluttered open when you felt the bed dip next to you, rhea now fully dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a black tank top with 'motionless in white' in bold writing, your gaze flickering over her outfit briefly before meeting her softening sky blue eyes, the various shades overflowing with love and care.

“i’m going now,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your lips pulling up into a drowsy smile. “i’ll see you late babe,” she brushes a few strands of your hair out of your face, your eyes meeting hers, conveying your tiredness but also love.

“have fun,” you mumble playfully, knowing how boring these meetings could be, “make sure you wrap up warm,” you remind her, the dark haired girl adamant she couldn’t feel the cold, the way her cheeks and nose redden proving her wrong.

“i will, i will,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender as you reprimand her choice of clothes in cold conditions often, her lips meeting yours one last time before she starts to head out.

rhea leaves you all wrapped up, her eyes lingering on your form as she savours the domesticity of the moment, body soon moving to grab the remainder of her things, grabbing a thick hoodie as you told her to.

soon enough, she’s at the front door, keys jingling in the lock as she twists it, unlocking the door and gently opening it. her eyes widened in surprise, confusion and shock at the mountain of snow piled in front of the door, almost as high as her waist, completely blocking her exit and the entire driveway, no way for her to leave. she curses under her breath, knowing there was absolutely no quick solution for her to get out, the dark haired girl deciding that she was just going to have to let h know the meeting would have to happen without her, explaining her situation.

whilst rhea was sorting out her predicament, you had nodded off once again, quiet snores escaping you as your body stretched across the bed, relishing in the warmth and comfortable surface as much as possible. however, once again you were ripped away from your sleep, a grumble escaping you as you flutter your eyes open at the noise, rhea's figure barely visible in the corner of your eye. you tilted your head to get a better look at her, confusion on your face as you started to watch her remove her shirt, her head tilting as she senses you wake up, smile playing on her lips.

“did i sleep all day?” you question, tone bewildered and full of disbelief.

“you’ve been asleep since i left?” rhea teases, purposely faking an expression of shock, trying her best to hide her smile at the way you sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to try and wake up, seemingly confused as to where you were, what time it was, and what had happened.

“what-” your eyes meet hers, noticing the hint of mischief in them, your eyes then instantly going to the small clock on your nightstand, reading the time and groaning. you flop back onto the bed dramatically earning a soft laugh from the dark haired girl, her now in an old sleep shirt and comfortable joggers, climbing onto the bed. “you’re so mean,” you grumble, not too pleased with her little joke, your hands wrapping around her pillow and whacking her with it will the little strength you could be bothered mustering, her fingers wrapping around it and pulling it out of your grasp.

“i really am,” she chuckles out, “i’m just so cruel,” her tone dropping an octave as her body moves to straddle yours, fingers caressing your waist, cold hands meeting your warm skin as your shirt hitched up. “what can I do to make it up to my dear wife?” her voice playful and teasing, your eyes opening to meet her amused blue, an inevitable smile pulling at your lips, hands reaching out for her body.

“help her decorate the house,” you say, eyes flickering between her teeth biting down on her lip gently, fingers sliding under her shirt, drawing idle circles against her soft, creamy skin.

“is that all?” she murmurs, leaning down so that her lips are ghosting yours, teasingly brushing against yours in an intoxicating manner, heat instantly consuming your body. you can feel a couple strands of her hair brush your cheeks, her eyes darkening as she tilts her head, barely putting any pressure on your lips as you gaze into her blue with a lustful look.

“hmm let me think,” you murmur, pretending to ponder the thought, arms wrapping loosely around her neck, pulling her body closer to yours, her entire weight pressing into you. “kiss me,” you whisper, her obliging and connecting your lips intimately, a sensual sigh leaving both of you. the kiss was loaded with a tenderness and affection that made your heart melt in your chest, the slow pace allowing you both to savour every little feeling and sensation you caused each other. your heart drummed wildly in your chest, wet mouths moving together languidly and her teeth scraping over your lips while her hands are firm with their touch at your waist, one moving to cup your cheek to deepen the kiss.

eventually, you pull away from each other, her body moving to lay next to you as you smile against her, lips still pressing against each other as you couldn’t resist her, your mind soon catching up with the fact that she was still home, the meeting with h entering your mind.

“you’re not skiving the meeting are you?” you mumble into a kiss, her laughing softly against you as you raise a brow at her, head resting against the pillow as you search her eyes for an answer. the blue softens at your words, fingers brushing your hair back away from your eyes, then settling on brushing over your cheeks, her expression loving as you wait for her response.

“no angel,” she softly chuckles, “i can’t go anymore,” your brows furrow at her words. “we’ve been snowed in,” she explains, your expression switching from confusion to amusement, a soft laugh leaving you at the ridiculous scenario.

“oh no,” you manage out, humour evident in your tone as it was just such a shame you were going to be trapped in your house with your wife all day. “what are we going to do?” your tone still light-hearted and playful, her lips tugging up into that signature smirk of hers.

“i can think of a few things,” she purrs, her hands slipping under your shirt and rising, teasingly ghosting the underside of your breasts, your brow rising at her bold move.

“oh yeah?” your tone fauxing innocence as you loll your head back, letting her lips move to the underside of your jaw, placing soft kisses and occasionally nipping on your skin, earning a soft gasp every time. “tell me them,” you murmur, hands going to her hair, ruffling the dark locks, gently scratching the shaved underside of her head as she sucks a mark on your neck, pierced tongue lathing over sensitive skin, arousal swiftly pooling between your thighs.

“i say we christen the whole house,” she jokes, the two of you only having had sex in the bedroom as you had only moved in this week, the furniture around the house already set up. “i want to watch you come on my fingers, my face, my cock,” you groan at her dirty words, her hands cupping your breasts, touch confident as you arch your back closer to her, desperate to feel the pleasure that she’s promising you.

“fuck,” you sigh out, the idea something you definitely want to try, mouth parting at the feeling of her knee slotting between your thighs, your clit brushing against her toned leg perfectly. “please,” you sigh out, her lips ascending up your neck and along your jaw, coaxing you to lower your head to meet her addictive lips, eyes fluttering close in pleasure as your hips slowly roll against her, heat bubbling in your lower abdomen.

“yeah? You like the idea, angel?” she rasps against your lips, accent wrapping around her words making your head start to spin with desire and arousal. “show me how much you want it,” she purrs, one hand slipping from under your shirt to guide your hips against her leg more securely, a low moan leaving your lips.

“shit, rhea,” you pants out, hips rolling harder against her muscular thigh, a smirk playing on her lips at the way your face contorts with pleasure, forehead leaning against hers. her fingers teasingly ghosted over your nipples, mouth still relentless as she slides her tongue against yours, firm and dominant as you whimper at her taunting touch, desperate for her. you can feel her smirk into the kiss at your submissive noise, teeth gently nipping her lower lip to put some sort of fight for dominance up, her tongue effortlessly sliding back into your mouth and stealing your breath away. “please, I want it so bad,” you groan, panting into her mouth, going back for kiss after kiss, refusing to part from her mouth, “i want you to ruin me. everywhere,” your hips roll a little faster, a low groan escaping her at your words, lips lingering against each other when you part from her to gasp in pleasure, her tensing her thigh pleasantly for you to continue grinding against.

“you’re already ruined angel,” she teases, her thumb brushing over your nipple, her pinching on it softly to make you gasp lewdly into her mouth, hip bucking against her leg harder, a desperate noise leaving you. “i’ve barely touched you and I bet you’re dripping,” she husks out, hips stuttering against her thigh as your fingers tighten their hold on her dark locks, keeping her as close as possible while her hands slide down your body to your ass, firmly gripping onto you and guiding you along her thigh at a consistent pace, your hips faltering at the pleasurable sensation.

“rhea,” your tone a breathless sigh, laced with desire as your first release of the day approaches swiftly, a low chuckle escaping her at your needy tone, “fuck.”

“oh baby, are you going to come already?” she teases, tone a little condescending making your cheeks heat up with humiliation, warmth pooling between your thighs at her words, a whimper leaving you. Her teeth gently bite down on your lip before releasing it, her tongue soothing over the dull pain as you whine again, her eyes meeting your desperate ones while your hips are pulled along her thigh, clit brushing perfectly against the toned muscle.

“shit,” you sigh out, another wave of pleasure taking over your body, your lips captured once again in a passionate kiss. “yes,” you confess shyly in between a heated kiss, her eyes raking over your desperate form, eyes squeezed shut, lips kiss swollen and constantly searching for hers, hips rutting against her thigh like your life depended on it. “please, i’m so close,” you murmur, feeling her smirk into the next messy kiss.

“come for me angel,” she whispers, a desperate noise leaving you as you crash into your release.

with a final roll of your hips, your body tensed against hers, a string of moans being muffled by her incessant mouth while pleasure consumed you entirely, your hands shooting down to her hips, pulling her impossibly closer. her hands slowed your movements against her thigh, letting you buck against her as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, body melting against hers as you panted for breath.

her gentle breath caressed your lips as you eventually opened your eyes, shamelessly smiling at her and claiming her lips once more, her mirroring your expression and smiling into the kiss, fingers moving to rest at your hips. her blues soften as the gaze lingers, her brow raising subtly at the mischief that appears in your eyes, the way you sinfully bite on your lower lip also gaining her attention.

“where next?”

your back swiftly met the cold tiles behind you, back arching off the wall at the contrast in temperature between your body and the surface, rhea kissing you apologetically as she pins you to the wall in the shower. your hand blindly reaches for the controls, turning on the water to have it running down your bodies, warming the rest of you up as heat was already building between your thighs, her lips attached to your jaw as your head lolls back, smiles playing on your lips.

your hands roam her naked body, caressing every inch of skin you could reach tenderly, touch growing in confidence as you work your way up and down her body, eventually settling on sliding your hand to her core, hearing her breath hitch as her mouth ghosted yours.

“i want you to use me,” you murmured against her lips, tone laced with submission, rhea groaning into a lewd kiss while her hands moved to your hair, brushing the wet strands back away from your face. her lips press against your lips messily, tongue sliding into your mouth briefly, earning a desperate whimper before she smirks into the kiss as her mind runs wild with sinful thoughts.

“on your knees, angel,” she rasps out, flipping your positions so she could lean against the tiles, her fingers threading through your soaked locks and guiding you onto the floor. you can't stop the small curse that leaves your lips as you settle on your knees, hands sliding down her perfectly sculpted body, fingers gliding over toned muscle and soft curves, resting on the back of her tattooed thighs as you peer up at her, her fingers caressing your cheek gently. “you look so pretty on your knees for me,” she murmurs, another groan leaving you as your lips move to pepper kisses along her thighs, eyes still trained on her, watching how her blues darken with desire.

your hands gently prompt her to spread her legs further, your mouth moving to kiss her core, lips deftly wrapping around her clit and sucking gently, a low moan escaping her. the noise goes straight to your core, the huskiness to her voice making your head spin, the taste of her on your tongue further fogging your mind with arousal as your mouth explored her wet sex. you moaned into her core at the feeling of her fingers pushing you closer to where she desperately needed you, nuzzling your face closer so that your mouth was covered in her slick, tongue swiping through her folds, teasing her entrance before moving to softly lick at her clit, a low groan being dragged out of her.

“fuck, just like that,” her voice raspy and low, your eyes fluttering open and peering up at her, a small noise leaving you at the sight of her. Her head was lolled back against the tiles, dark strands sticking to her forehead while her free hand went to her chest, groping at the soft flesh while her hips started to rock against your face, your eyes admiring her beauty. her sharp jawline caught your attention as you couldn’t take your eyes off of her, fingers drifting closer to her core as you needed to see her, hear her, fall apart from your sinful touch.

you slid a finger into her effortlessly, a guttural noise escaping her when you curl it at her sweet spot, her fingers tightening in your hair while her hips buck, her blue eyes casting their gaze down to look at you, her mouth parting as you keep the eye contact. with her blue eyes entranced by you, you slide in another finger and suck on her clit harder, pleasure and arousal coursing through you both at the action.

“angel,” she moans and your entire body reacts to how she moans your name, arousal instantly consuming you, the throb between your thighs incessant. “that’s it, good girl,” she pants out softly, her orgasm swiftly approaching as you thrust your fingers into her a little faster, curling them perfectly each time, the praise making you moan into her core.

the vibrations make her hips buck once more, your free hand lifting one of her thighs and guiding it to rest over your shoulder, letting her roll her hips against your hand easier as well as allowing you to swirl your tongue around her more comfortably, the ache in your jaw being ignored as you had to see her come undone.

you can tell she’s getting closer as her moans grow a little louder, her hips grinding against you a little frantically, chasing her release as you flatten your tongue, letting her use you as you wanted. her reactions encourage you to keep going, hips rolling harder against you, basically fucking your face as her fingers tighten their grip in your wet hair, keeping you as close as possible.

“fuck, i’m so close,” she groans out, focussing all of your attention towards her clit to drive her over the edge, her walls clenching around you desperately signalling how close she truly was. “baby,” she moaned, ragged breaths spilling from her lips before a guttural noise escaped her, body about to crash into her release. “don’t stop,” she groans out sinfully, back arching off the tiles and neck straining as her head lolls back, pleasure consuming her entire body as her hips rock against you, desperately chasing the waves of her high while your fingers and tongue continue to please her.

you waited until her hand softly pushed you away, working her through her aftershocks before settling on peppering kisses to her inner thighs, forehead resting against her soft skin as it was just so addictive, your entire body somehow longing for more of her.

“come here,” she murmurs softly, guiding you back up to meet her lips, the kiss a clash of teeth and tongue as you languidly explore each other's mouths, the dark haired girl moaning at the taste of herself. the kiss eventually fades away as you both lean against one another, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer, a smile tugging on her lips as you both relax under the warm spray for a moment.

after you’ve savoured the moment enough, you eventually start to wash each other’s bodies, relishing in the intimacy before deciding to have some food to recharge, an idea entering rhea's mind, one she knows you're going to love.

breakfast was filled with domesticity as you simply sat with each other, relishing in the peacefulness of the moment together as your shoulders brushed, her tatted hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin while her other hand cared for a warm cup of coffee. it was the perfect moment, the two of you relaxing and recharging as planned before rhea announced she was going to grab something, your mind not paying too much attention to it as you moved to place your empty coffee cup near the sink, leisurely moving around the kitchen and letting your eyes scan over the living room, planning on how to decorate it with all the christmas decorations.

your arms braced your body against the countertop as you got lost in thought, mind picturing the best location for the christmas tree you were going to buy tomorrow, eyes flickering between two corners.

you jumped a little when a pair of muscular tatted arms wrapped around your body from behind, instantly relaxing at the familiar perfume that invaded your senses, a small smile growing on your lips as you lean backwards to rest against her body, eyebrows raising at the feeling of something between her legs, a low groan escaping you.

“what are you thinking so hard about?” she innocently muses, head resting against your shoulder, hands drifting down your barely covered body, resting at the waistband of your panties as you both decided there was no point in dressing properly, the house warm enough.

“where we’re going to put the tree,” you murmur back, going along with her innocent act, pushing your hips back further against the strap on, her lips pressing against your neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. “which corner do you think it would look better in?” you ask, moving your hands down your body to meet hers, guiding her hand to slide your panties to the side, wanting to feel the toy buried deep inside you.

“hmm the corner near the tv so we see it more often,” she answers, nipping gently on your neck while her hand moves to position the toy near your entrance, slowly grinding her hips against you, teasing you as much as possible.

the throb between your thighs is relentless as you feel the tip of the toy slide in and out of you tauntingly, rhea’s lips pulling into a smirk as she hears the small groan of annoyance leaving your lips.

“rhea,” you sigh out, tilting your head back to peer into her eyes, the green completely replaced with darkness and desire, body flush against yours as she continues to roll her hips, dragging the toy up and down your dripping folds.

“tell me how you want it,” she murmurs, lips ghosting yours, finally settling the toy at your entrance and slowly thrusting it in, a wave of pleasure flowing through you as her hips press into you, pinning you against the countertop, your hands bracing your body.

“rough,” your tone an affected whisper, "please, just fuck me.” her eyes somehow darken even more at your words, a dominant glint appearing in her eyes as she pulled the toy out of you, thrusting it in a little harder, her hands gliding over your body, eager to give you what you want.

“remember to use your safe words whenever you need to,” she reminds caringly before kissing your lips briefly, feeling you nod into the kiss before her hands move to between your shoulder blades, guiding you to lean forwards, bending you over the kitchen counter.

with every touch, you felt your body burn at the sensation, heat building swiftly at the pit of your lower abdomen as your hands reached across the cool surface, her hands sliding down your body to rest on your hips, the toy being slid out of you until only the tip remained in. when a desperate noise escaped you, she thrusted her hips into you hard, a broken moan leaving you at the pleasure that jolted through you, the feeling of it being buried so deep inside you making your head spin with desire.

your fingers pressed harder into the countertop, desperately trying to hold onto something as the room quickly fills with the lewd sounds of your moans, pants and the sound of the toy repeatedly being drilled into you, her pace merciless and rough as promised, hands gripping your waist tightly as she pounds into you in the middle of the kitchen.

“shit,” her tone low and raspy as her eyes can’t tear away from the sight of her cock being swallowed by your cunt, your arousal coating the toy. “you’re taking me so well angel,” she pants out, her hands guiding you to lift one of your legs up onto the countertop, spreading you out for her, the toy reaching even deeper inside you and hitting your sweet spot with every single thrust at the new position.

“fuck,” your moans grow louder as she snaps her hips into you, her tatted hand wrapping around your raised thigh flexing the veins slightly. helping you keep the flexible position, fingers digging in to create a pleasurable dull pain, your mind completely fogged with the thought of her and the toy being pumped mercilessly into you. “just like that, shit, don’t stop,” you beg with a submissive and desperate tone, rhea moving her hand to spank you roughly, knowing just how you like it, earning another loud noise to reverberate around the room, your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure consuming you.

“you want more angel?” she pants, her hand rubbing over the reddening area, soothing the skin as she continues to drill her hips into you, strings of moans and chants of her name spilling from your lips.

“please, again,” you whimper, her hand roughly colliding with your other cheek, a red mark forming where her hand had just spanked. “rhea,” you groan after another spank, her dominance somehow making you even wetter, the mix of pain and pleasure causing the heat between your thighs to become intolerable, a pathetic whimper leaving you.

“oh angel,” she coos, her hands soothing once more over your sensitive skin before sliding to your core, fingers brushing your clit and making your body jerk against her, a lewd noise escaping you at the buzz of pleasure that washed through you. “you wanted me to be rough, can’t you handle it?” she teases, tone a little condescending, her sultry voice further adding to the warmth pooling between your legs, walls clenching around the toy desperately.

“i can-fuck, i can take it,” you manage out, her finger firmly circling your clit, body acting on its own as you try to push your hips back in time with her movements, your orgasm rapidly approaching at the vast amount of euphoria and pleasure coursing through you.

“are you sure about that, baby?” she husks out, her hips thrusting harder and deeper into you, more pleasure flooding through you, your body on the edge of another powerful release. “hold it,” her tone leaves no room for argument, a displeased and pitiful noise leaving you, body begging to let your release crash over you.

“rhea,” you plead, her hands snaking around your waist and guiding you to stand again, the toy cruelly being pulled out of you when she can tell you can’t hold it anymore, an annoyed groan leaving you as she turns you around.

her lips silence your frustrated noises, hands going to the back of your thighs, lifting you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist as her tongue slides into your mouth, dominating the heated kiss as she carries you to the dining table nearby, placing you on the edge of it, lips refusing to part.

her show of strength has you moaning into her mouth, gasping in pleasure when she slides the toy back into you, the guttural noise being swallowed by her mouth, lips hot and feverish, partly sucking on yours to drag more noises out of you, arms braced by your side and hips rutting up into you.

“fuck,” you groan, the noise muffled by the wet sounds of your mouths, the feeling of her firm tongue dominating your mouth making you delirious with arousal, the toy that was being thrusted deep inside you making it even harder to think.

“angel,” she pants out and it’s sinful that someone can sound so hot, a whine leaving you as the tip of the toy hits your weak spot repeatedly, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure while her hand moves to your throat, applying pressure that has you whimpering. “look at me,” she commands, your eyes fluttering open as your mouth parts, broken noises being ripped out of you while more arousal pools between your thighs at her predatory look.

the feeling of her hand at your throat, hips mercilessly pounding into you and your previous release being denied has you right back on the edge already, a hint of embarrassment filling you at how quickly she was able to have you begging once again, the shame vanishing at the look of pure desire and hunger in her eyes as she needed to see you come undone for her right now.

“please,” you manage out, eyes pleading with her, her lips once again meeting yours, addicted and intoxicated by each other as you refuse to part for a moment, your hands moving from her body to ruffle her hair, keeping her as close as possible. “i’m so close, please don’t stop,” your tone breathless, her hand still firmly wrapped around your throat, lips parting from yours but you chase them, leaning in and panting against her mouth softly, claiming them to try and muffle your moans.

“come for me,” she groans into your mouth, a string of saliva forming between your mouths before you crash them together again, a low, guttural noise being ripped from the back of your throat when your body is finally thrown into your release.

your moans become unrestricted as your orgasm floods through you powerfully, body buzzing with satisfaction as you clench around the toy, obeying her words as you come all over the strap, vision blurring with pleasure. your fingers tighten their grip on her hair, earning a small hiss from her while her teeth gently nip on your lip, a groan leaving you as you roll your hips as best you can, trying to ride out the last waves of pleasure.

rhea’s lips softly pepper kisses around your face as you recover, a smile pulling at your lips at her gentle and tender action, arms wrapping around her neck loosely, forehead resting against hers while soft pants fill the room.a surprised squeak leaves you when she lifts you off the table, your legs once again wrapping around her securely, face hiding at the crook of her neck as she takes you over to the sofa, falling back gently onto it, having your body straddle her lap.

your lips press a lewd kiss to her neck, tongue licking a stripe over her warm and addictive skin, her head lolling back against the soft cushions behind her, baring her soft skin for you to mark. teeth scrape ever so gently against her skin, earning a small groan from the dark haired girl as you pull back to see her darkened blue, her hands caressing the skin of your hips as they slide under your loose t-shirt, her mouth tugging up into that signature smirk.

you can’t help but let your gaze flicker across her features, admiring them all and subtly biting on your lip, eyes descending down her sharp jawline and the creamy skin of her neck, trailing lower and gazing lustfully at her breasts, the shape of them visible through her shirt. your mind couldn’t help but think back to the many times you’ve had your head between them, lips wrapped around her nipples to drag out sinful sounds, eyes peering up at her aroused state as she would guide you lower, eager to feel your mouth on her lower.

you were snapped out of the various thoughts by her tipping your chin up to make you look into her amused blue, her brow slightly raised.

“my eyes are up here angel,” she teases leaning forwards to press her mouth to yours, a smile on both of your lips as the pace is slow and intimate, your hands resting on her shoulders as hers wrap around your waist, lifting you up and guiding your back down onto the toy, a low moan leaving your lips.

“i can’t get enough of you,” she mumbles into a slow and tender kiss, her hands softly guiding you up and down the toy once more, your lips parting to gasp into her mouth at the feeling, the new angle having pleasure slowly spark through your body, the slower and more intimate pace having your heart melt in your chest, mind unable to comprehend how much you love her. “i’ll never get enough of you,” she whispers into a kiss, a small whine leaving you as your hips raise and sink back down onto the toy, her hand drifting lower to your ass, guiding your movements, the base of the strap grinding against her dripping core.

“fuck, rhea,” you murmur, your eyes meeting her darkened but loving gaze, the heat between your thighs doubling at the mere glance, eyes squeezing shut at the wave of pleasure that consumed you when her hand moved between your bodies, finding your clit to slowly push you over the edge. “i love you,” you softly pant into her mouth, breath fanning over her lips as you struggled to kiss her back, breathless from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and love coursing through you, the dark haired girl’s smile growing wider.

“i love you too, angel,” she hummed into your mouth, lips stealing occasional kisses as your lips lingered against one another, brushing delicately as your fingers dug in slightly at her shoulders, groaning at her husky tone. “i love this body, the way it reacts to my touch,” she murmurs, lips travelling along your jaw, eventually reaching the shell of your ear and nibbling softly on your earlobe, her sensual breaths making your mind cloud with the thought of her. “the way it’s always at my mercy, the way you're always at my mercy,” she continues with a raspy and sultry tone, her accent beautifully wrapped around her words making you moan lowly, a sigh of pleasure escaping her.

“rhea,” you whine and it’s nothing but desperate, fingers threading through her hair and tugging her head back gently, needing to look at her as your body is once again ready to fall over the edge, her hips leisurely thrusting up into you as your pace becomes more frantic, the base of the toy perfectly brushing over her clit.

“yeah, angel?” she teases in a pant, her free hand moving back to your throat, fingers splaying around your throat softly, applying a small amount of pressure as her hips thrust up harder, chasing her own release.

“please,” is all you can muster, mind not able to produce anything else as your hips bounce hurriedly on the toy buried inside you, her lips silencing the small moans escaping you.

“lose control for me,” she whispers and you can’t help but let out a wanton moan of her name, body tensing in her lap as your release crashes through you. The sight of you, mouth parted and hips rutting against hers, throws rhea into her own orgasm, pleasure consuming you both entirely as you move one another, chasing the last waves of ecstasy together, eventually slowly and relaxing against one another, melting into a tender embrace.

soft pants and gentle breaths filled the room as you relaxed against her comfortable body, rhea resting against you as you both recovered, your fingers threading through her hair in a comforting manner, scratching her scalp tenderly. The dark haired girl’s hands slide up and down your back in a loving caress, warmth fluttering in your chest as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softening blue as she presses her lips softly against you, conveying her love for you into the intimate action.

“i love you,” she whispers once again, your smile growing before you move to hide your face at the comfort of her neck, hands moving to wrap around her body, cuddling closer into her body.

“i love you too,” you murmur, lips pulling up into a teasing smile, rhea feeling the action and awaiting your amusing comment. “but this isn’t getting you out of helping me decorate,” a soft chuckle leaves her lips, body shaking against you as she can’t help but smile, her heart beating wildly with love.

“oh no,” she sighs out dramatically, as if it was the worst thing possible, not minding helping you in the slightest. “we can do that later,” she says, hands caressing down your body, her lips pressing against yours as she smiles into the kiss, your head shaking playfully at her antics, “but right now, i want to cuddle before i have you screaming my name again.” You groan at her words, grinning against her lips, not minding this new mini plan.

“that sounds like an amazing idea,” you whisper amused, unable to wipe the smile off your lips, warmth bubbling in your chest at how much you love this woman.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Mistakes

Jungkook knew from the first look at your eyes, that you'd be the biggest mistake he'll ever make.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Smut, car sex, protected sex, no strings attached, big dick!Jungkook, implied size kink, very mild Dom!Kook undertones, oral (m. receiving), sugar daddy!Jungkook vibes but only in a joking manner

Length: 7k words (oops)

There is no taglist for this fic.

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Jeon Jungkook doesn't really attend parties- typically.

But this time, for this occasion, he can't really pull himself out- he's got to at least show up for a moment, be there and present, before he can call it a night and go home. It's not like he hates his coworkers or employees most of all- he's just not that good at socializing, and never really was.

He's learned to be alone, and now he's too good at it.

A lot of the people in the hall, he doesn't know. That's probably because he's allowed people to bring a plus-one, so most of the people here are couples, which makes the whole situation just so much worse. "You could at least try and appear like you're having fun, you know?" Taehyung laughs, standing closer to his coworker now, a drink in hand. "It's not that bad." He tries to lighten the mood, but Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

"It's not even been an hour and I already want to go." He sighs.

"Why not leave then?" Tae wonders, sipping his non-alcoholic drink, since he's gonna have to drive home later, his wife currently conversing with other coworkers. "Oh, right, because Namjoon-"

"God don't remind me." Jungkook mumbles, shaking his head as he sips his whiskey. "I can't believe I lost that bet." He growls to himself, watching how someone seems to struggle with choosing the right food at the buffet, plate still empty even after several minutes. You look young, or maybe you're just short- he's not sure, but what he is sure about is that you do not work for him or his company- at least not in the same building. He would've noticed you, just like he does right now.

"I think she's Yoongi's plus-one? Or at least he drove here with her together.." Taehyung mumbles, having spotted his friend watching you.

"She looks young." Jungkook mumbles. "And I thought Yoongi was seeing the secretary we hired a few months ago?" He wonders, finally letting his eyes leave you alone, form-fitting dress very complimenting to your body, not too revealing, but still somewhat teasing.

Taunting him, almost.

"Oh, he does! Namjoon caught them making out in Yoongi's office last week." Taehyung laughs. "She's probably just a friend." He shrugs.

A friend, huh?

"Maybe something for you though?" Taehyung jokes. "I mean, I think I saw her drinking earlier, so she's at least of legal age." He laughs, making Jungkook cringe at him. He doesn't really find this whole joke funny- not at all, but Taehyung is right when it comes to Jungkook having a.. severe lack of company these past few years. Only occasionally does he have some sex without any strings attached- never brings anybody home however, refuses to cling to someone.

He's divorced anyways. Most women don't really find that very appealing.

Maybe he can have some simple company this time as well, nothing serious at all- it's been a while, after all, and everyone's an adult here, no matter the age difference. As long as he communicates it properly, there's no reason not to at least converse with you.

So he does indeed approach you, finding you still at the buffet, barely anything on your plate at all.

"Too much to choose from?" He wonders next to you, and he realizes the huge mistake he's made when approaching you the second you lift your head to look at him.

The lights reflect in your eyes like mirrors, minimal makeup perfectly enhancing your features, lips shiny with the most sinful shade of lipgloss this world probably has to offer. He's a goner, right away, lost in the sight of you, as if he's been thrown into the deep end of a pool so cold that it freezes his muscles, making him sink down to the bottom like a stone.

"Oh, no.." You answer, looking back at all the foods. "I have a shellfish allergy, so I'm not sure what I can eat.." You mumble, one hand having reached up to play with the sparkling pink gemstone hanging around your neck.

His mouth feels dry for a second, before he catches himself.

"Here." He mentions, pointing at some small numbers near the names of the foods on the small cards. "Those small numbers, the three right there is for shellfish." He offers, pointing towards a different card close by where the numbers are explained.

"Oh! Thank you so much, I hate contact lenses!" You laugh to yourself. "I usually wear glasses, but I wanted to look pretty.." You giggle, putting some food onto your plate now.

"I'm sure nothing can ruin a face like that." He flirts without truly thinking about it- making you visibly blush, trying to contain a smile.

"I appreciate the compliment…?" You wonder, and Jungkook knows, he's probably about to make another, grave mistake.

"Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." He introduces himself, and you tell him your name in return, smiling oh-so devastatingly beautiful.

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His plan was absolutely not to explore what might be beneath that pretty dress of yours- and it seems like that might stay that way despite his length inside you.

You're moving your hips in ways that makes him dizzy, mind clouded with lust as you bounce up and down, hands on your back the only thing helping you avoid accidentally hitting the steering wheel. He's pushed the seat back as far as it goes, but you can never be too sure- he wouldn't want you to honk and draw attention to the surely shaking vehicle in the darkened parking lot.

The condom had been pure luck- he's not a fan of pulling out, so if it hadn't been there in the glove box of his car, he probably would've had to awkwardly call it quits before anything really happened at all. It's not like you both instantly were at each other's throats the moment you left the gathering- he simply offered to drive you home instead of Yoongi, who'd wanted to stay a little longer, while you complained about feeling tired. And in his car, you'd talked- casually so, something clicking, as he's now got you on his lap, bouncing on his dick like he's not experienced in quite some time now.

He feels a bit bad. Despite making sure that you know this is nothing but a casual fuck, it still feels a little odd to him. He doesn't like things like these- it feels like he's using you, and he's not a fan of such situations.

Though he can't deny that you feel absolutely divine.

The rain is heavy outside, pushing against the car's windows from all sides, drowning out the otherwise rather obscene sounds coming from between your bodies. Your hands are on his shoulders, fingers gripping his muscles beneath the fabric of his formal button-up. He refuses to kiss you, can't find it in him to do it, and you accept it, instead treating it as detached as you can, simply chasing your high as you fuck yourself on his twitching length.

He feels good. Thick, able to reach far inside you, but not enough to hurt.

The way he holds you is nice too- not too strong of a grip, only enough to guide you, keep you moving, keep you going. He's not big on dirty talk, isn't over the top with anything, and it almost feels like he's treating you like a woman, and not some chick he's met at a party. There's a certain sense of respect he's offering you that gives you confidence, makes you feel powerful for once even though he's clearly setting the pace.

This is something you don't usually get to have. Someone taking you seriously.

"You close?" He asks out of breath, avoiding your eyes, rather looking at your lips, though never moving into action. A limit he's set, and a limit he follows, he's clearly a man that doesn't wildly change his mind on the fly. Though, considering who he is, and where he is in life, he probably has had enough time to be untamed and wild already. You faintly wonder if he's ever been in a long-term relationship. Yoongi hasn't really talked about him much.

Neither have you asked. You've seen him, once or twice- but a man like that is out of range for you.

You nod when he grips your behind, reminding you quietly of his question, hips stuttering as he takes over, helping you move to chase his own orgasm right after yours. You're a bit overly sensitive, but you push through it just to see him clench his jaw, eyes closing as he groans out in relief, cum spurting into the condom inside you.

It's suddenly over, and not even your evening breaths can mask the slight awkwardness that's filling the car.

One of his hands keeps you close, though you have to lean against him a bit as to not move your hips too much as he reaches for something from the glovebox, plastic wrap of the small pack of tissues making a distinctive sound. "You okay?" He asks you, and you nod, now having switched places apparently as you avoid his face entirely.

You rather move a bit weirdly to accept the tissue offered, lifting your hips to awkwardly wipe yourself down, before pulling up your underwear and climbing back into the passenger seat, where you clean the inside of your thighs while he discards the condom from his length with a slight hiss of sensitivity.

You never really know what to say. You don't actually do this often- this is only the second time you've ever hooked up with anyone like this, and it's just as weird as the first time.

"Thank you, by the way." He offers, taking the challenge away from you as he puts the tied up condom in the tissue to discard it at home later. "Let me drive a bit closer to the building, just so you don't get too wet." He says, pulling his seat back into proper position before he starts the car.

Such a gentleman- You're a little disappointed. But only mildly so. Will you even stay in his mind?

Probably not.

You're way too young for a man like him, who most likely wants a proper woman in his life instead of a.. instead of you. You're not even sure where you are at in life- neither a woman nor a girl, somewhere in between, floating, unsure, neither and both. You know however for a fact that you'll remember him- probably for quite a while, before the memory will fade into nothing but a glimpse.

"There we go." Jungkook says, stopping the car very much in front of your apartment building, sideways so that you can run right into the main hall. "Please remember to text Yoongi, okay?" He reminds you. "He might be worried otherwise." He smiles kindly, and you nod, a bit forced, grabbing your light coat and your handbag. "And.. I enjoyed it. Very much so." He makes sure to tell you, making you nod a bit shy.

"I.. uhm, I'm glad." You nod, awkwardly, causing him to chuckle.

"Now go hurry inside before the rain starts again." He urges, making you nod dumbly once more before you open the car door, running inside the apartment building after closing the door.

And he drives off, back home, where nothing waits for him but the humming fridge and a cold, empty bed.

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Daehyun can be a little spoiled, but other than that, he's a well behaved kid for his age.

He loves staying at your place, though his questions on when you'll be getting another dog after your first passed away a year ago are sometimes a bit stinging to your heart. He's a child, obviously- he doesn't understand the hurt that can settle in your soul after losing such an important piece of your life, so you can't blame him for moving on a lot quicker than you.

He's too young to understand that yet.

"Uncle Yoongi has a cat now!" Daehyun tells you as he builds the lego set with you, his small hands having some difficulty here and there, but he's a quick learner, and a good improviser. "But he said I can't play with her, because she's a girl-cat, and girl-cats don't like playing." He explains, pouting a bit as he uses all his strength to pull two pieces apart again.

"Well, I think she's just be a little nervous still." You reassure the boy. "You know, she just moved into a new home. Things might be a little scary to her." You explain, and Daehyun nods.

"I only pet her a bit." Daehyun tells you. "Appa said we're gonna get a dog soon though!" He says with excitement, making you smile.

"That's nice." You agree, helping him pull some bricks apart. You like having the little boy over at your place- it makes you feel both like a grown person, and also like a child at the same time. Daehyun doesn't judge your vast collections of stuffed animals and lego sets- he only sees you as the nice aunt, a big sister, a friend of his dad where he stays over at often whenever work gets in the way and takes away most of Taehyung's attention. Just like this weekend- Taehyung having needed someone to look after the boy, Dae's mother constantly equally without any time. You're not sure how long that marriage is gonna last with her refusing to step back at least a little to properly take care of her own child, and with Taehyung's growing frustration over the situation.

You hope the poor boy won't get caught up in the crossfire. That would just be awful.

Hours later, all the toys put away, your doorbell rings, giving you the clue that someone must be now here to pick the young boy up. Probably either Jimin or Yoongi- but when you open the door, it's neither of them, but a casually dressed Jungkook, hands in his slacks as your gaze gets caught on the slightly unbuttered shirt that's tucked into the pants, LY-labeled belt buckle accentuating his rather slim waist.

What the fuck.

"Oh- uh, come inside." You offer, stepping aside to let him in, Daehyun quickly running up to Jungkook, who mirrors the excitement of the young boy as he squats down to hug him. You let them both have their moment, instead walking around to collect all of Dae's things, checking twice to make sure he didn't forget anything, as you text Taehyung to make sure the man is really supposed to take the boy with him.

He is, which makes you a bit upset. Taehyung could've told you before.

When you walk back inside the living room area, Dae is currently busy showing Jungkook a stuffed animal- a gift from Jimin a year ago, modeled after your dog as a keepsake. "He was suuuper big, and really nice!" Dae beams up at the man. "He always ate ice cubes, but-" the small boy inspects the stuffed animal a little, lips pouting. "-Noona said he was really old, so he went to sleep." He offers, and Jungkook seems to realize what the stuffed toy might actually be.

"Let's put him back on the table then, yeah?" He offers, a hand with faint ink taking the toy from the smaller hands of the boy to place it back next to the picture frame of your dog and the collar on the tiny table near the door where he used to sleep. "So he can sleep well." He explains, making Dae nod. When you make your presence finally known, Jungkook removes the hand, heavy watch on his wrist faintly hitting the edge of the table for a second, as he watches how you help the small boy into his jacket.

You're a little confusing.

"Alright." You say after successfully getting Daehyun to put on his shoes. "Theres- uhm, there's a, wait, I'll show you.." You say, moving to pull a little folder out of one of the bags packed. "This one, please make sure Taehyung sees this. It's Daehyun's homework, and he really needs to do them this time." You emphasize. "Just make sure he actually looks inside at least once.." You sigh, putting the bright red folder back into the bag.

"I'll make sure." Jungkook accepts, taking the bag from you. "Anything else?" he wonders, and you refuse any eye contact, instead shaking your head to hug Daehyun goodbye as you bring him and Jungkook to your front door.

"Noona, you gotta hug Jungkookie too!" Dae says, surprising you with his lack of formality when addressing his father's friend- but you don't question it.

And admittedly, Jungkook is fairly surprised when you do in fact reach out to hug him goodbye, though very formal. It's still.. oddly nice, you don't seem to wear perfume but rather rely on your scented bodywash, which smells very good to him. This is weird. Why is he getting such feelings of comfort for a simple hug with nothing attached to it?

And why is he kind of disappointed when it ends far too quickly?

But it gets worse in the car, because Daehyun has clearly gotten the wrong message entirely. "Noona doesn't have a boyfriend." He says from the backseat where Jungkook has placed the booster seat he's gotten from Taehyung in cases like these where he has to pick up the young boy. "And appa said you don't have a girlfriend." He says, making Jungkook nod and hum a reply. "Noona is really pretty." He giggles. Jungkook cant help but chuckle along.

"She is." He agrees, because he won't lie about that. You are very pretty in his opinion, though he can only really judge you mostly by looks alone. "Did you have fun? I heard you were there the whole weekend." He tries to steer the conversation away, but the young boy clearly doesn't get the message.

"Noona can cook really well!" He praises. "She always makes me my favorite, and then we watch tv in our 'jamas." He says, and Jungkook has to imagine you both probably bundled up in blankets on the small couch you have, watching kid's shows until the poor boy falls asleep.

Domestic. Do you like children? Want your own in the future, maybe?

"Jungkookie?" Dae asks, and Jungkook hums a reply, telling the kid he's listening. "Do you like Noona?" He wonders.

"I don't know her that much, dae. But she seems nice." He offers instead, trying to evade the interrogation of the small boy.

"Do you like drinking?" Dae wonders. "Like, the stuff appa says I can't have?" He asks, and Jungkook grows a bit weary. Why exactly would the young boy ask something like that?

"Sometimes. Why do you ask?" He asks the boy, who seems to deflate now.

"Then you can't be friends with Noona." He complains.

"Why not?" Jungkook wonders.

"Because, the guy noona liked for a while always got mean when he was drinking that stuff." Dae complains, looking out the window. "I was never allowed to play at noona's house when he was there. He really liked that stuff that smells bad, but it made noona upset." He says.

Jungkook tenses up a bit. "Was he ever-, how was he mean to you?" Jungkook wonders.

"He always told noona to do things for him, and never let her play with me." He huffs. "And Yogi didn't like him too, because he always had to stay in his bed." He complains. Jungkook assumes the boy is probably talking about the dog.

Jungkook doesn't know how to ask what he wants to ask. It doesn't concern him at all- after all, it seems like you're no longer together with that guy, so he shouldn't pry. But something makes him worry- deep down, he's awfully wary, since he now realizes you did indeed not even touch any alcohol at the party at all- the drink Taehyung had seen you hold non-alcoholic. How bad must the relationship have been? You might not have a fear of men, but you're clearly affected by the past, it seems like.

"Did.." no. He shouldn't be asking that. It's none of his business.

"Do you get mean too when you drink?" Dae wants to know. "Appa only gets really sleepy." He giggles. Jungkook laughs along. Taehyung truly does only get horribly tired whenever he drinks- and he knows for a fact that he never gets drunk when he has to take care of the boy alone, so he's not at all alarmed by those words.

"No, I don't get mean." Jungkook answers. "I don't really drink a lot of it, so it only makes me feel a bit silly." He offers as an explanation, and Dae nods.

"Then, maybe Noona won't mind." He says, causing Jungkook to chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why do you want Noona to like me so much?" He wonders, and at that, Taehyung's son becomes excited.

"Because, then my favorite people like each other!" He exclaims. "And that's really cool. Then we can have sleepovers together, and you can help me get a new dog for noona!" He says. "She's really sad that Yogi sleeps now. I think she's lonely." He whines.

"We can have sleepovers anyways, dae." He laughs.

"But, appa told eomma, that you need someone you like." He huffs. Jungkook reminds himself to scold his friend at a later date. "Because you're not happy now, and you're lonely. And noona's lonely too." He offers.

Luckily, Jungkook escapes any further questioning as he finally reaches Taehyung's apartment, ready to drop the young boy off.

The whole conversation not leaving him at all the entire rest of the day, as he realizes he forgot to show Taehyung the folder.

Crap. This is your fault.

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It's been weeks- and apart from rubbing one out to the remaining memories of you in his car, he's not really thought much about you at all.

He's seen you on occasion here and there at the grocery store or a coffee shop, which made him realize that you've always been right under his nose but he just never knew who you were, but you two don't really have had any actual conversations anymore.

There's no reason for it.

He now knows that you're actually the part-time nanny Taehyung used to have a few years back, when you apparently had just been fighting to find a new job to keep your apartment and not get kicked out for not being able to pay rent. Back then, Taehyung and his wife had been living separated for a bit after a pretty bad fight- so the father had needed someone to take some weight off his shoulders, and help with the small child who couldn't even talk yet. You helped raise Daehyun basically, more or less- and, according to Taehyung, it shows.

The young boy has a strong sense of justice, and shares everything he has happily- something that he's learned from you. It makes some odd things make sense now to Jungkook as well- how Dae has some habits that seem very unique, but also too specific to have been developing all on their own. The child holds the front of his shirt a lot- something Jungkook noticed you do in a similar way as well, whenever you think of something.

Today, it's Daehyun's birthday. And Jungkook is sure, that the young boy probably demanded that both jungkook and you had to be there.

And he's right.

The minute he enters Taehyung's penthouse, he spots you sitting on the floor with the child, who's currently trying to read his own birthday card to you, before he spots him in the doorway. You look pretty, yet again. No makeup it seems like, and he can't say that you need it. You obviously don't, eyes still sparkling dangerously, smile still as lethal as ever as you wave a little bit before getting up.

You're dressed comfortably. He likes the sight of it- the casual dress you wear not too short to be scandalous, but short enough to tease him with the skin of your legs, hidden beneath a sheer pantyhose. Or?

No. There's an upper hem of lace- those are just stockings.

"Jungkookie, appa said you'll drive noona home today?" Dae says, now held up on Jungkook's hip, as he looks at Taehyung who laughs.

"Dae, I said I'm gonna ask him if he can drive her home!" He scolds gently. "Hey- sorry, he just runs with whatever he hears." The father tells him, and Jungkook just smiles, shaking his head.

"I can drive her home, no worries." He simply affirms. "It's no problem."

"Taehyung I told you I can go home by myself!" You whine, and Jungkook is intrigued by this seemingly new side of you. He knows you as a little shy, soft spoken, polite. You always greet him when you see him, and you've talked a little bit in his car weeks back- but then again, you only know each other on a very surface level.

He wonders what you're really like.

"And I said you're not driving alone when you're sick." Taehyung threatens, dad-voice coming through as he attempts to push through your clearly stubborn behavior, and Jungkook can't help but watch intently as your eyes roll around, attitude clear as you don't take your friend seriously at all.

"Noona is gonna be a mommy!" Daehyun blurts out to Jungkook, and for a split second, his entire body freezes, blood cooling down to the negatives, bones filling with fear.

He wore a condom- but what if something happened? What if it leaked? Was that even possible? He's not against becoming a father, absolutely not- but he'd like to have a proper relationship for that, a stable one, not something like this.

"Daehyun!" You scold with red cheeks, and Taehyung runs a hand over his face. "Appa just asked me if I was, I'm not!" You whine embarrassed, sighing. "Oh god, guys, please! I'm an adult woman, I'm not sick, I can go home by myself." You complain, walking into the kitchen, presumably to escape the pressuring situation.

"She threw up earlier, that's why I asked her. Dae must've heard me." Taehyung says, after averting his son's attention back to the TV in the living room, where his favorite show plays. "She refuses to see a doctor for it. But you look like you've seen a ghost-" Taehyung teases, before his eyes sharpen. "…could it be that the mention of her becoming a mommy made you worry?" He pokes, and Jungkook furrows his brows, averts eye contact. "Holy shit, you two!?" He hisses, and Jungkook groans.

"Shut up, it was nothing." He simply says, while Taehyung's eyes widen in a scandalized manner.

"Nothing?! Jungkook, where is that nothing?" He argues, surprisingly sternly. "I'll drive her home."

"You're acting like I forced myself onto her-" Jungkook sighs, but Taehyung shakes his head. "Taehyung, you heard her. She's an adult woman, she can decide things herself." Jungkook defends you. "I'll drive her home, and I'll text you once she's dropped off." He says, before he walks into the kitchen where you're filling up a glass with water.

"Oh god that was embarrassing." You whine into your hands, before you shake your head. "He acts as if I'm dying any second whenever something's up." You mumble, drinking from your glass. He can see you're a bit less energetic- hand a bit shaky as you drink.

"He worries." Jungkook offers, leaning against the counter next to the fridge, across from you. "And you should go see a doctor if you don't feel well." He scolds, and yet again, you roll your eyes.

"And you should try and work on your facial expressions, mister." You huff. "I could see the panic a mile away when Dae said I'm pregnant." You bite, making him tilt his head a little "Either way, I'm fine. I can't afford to call in sick right now or my landlord will kick me out the minute my rent is late again." You laugh a little bitterly, finishing your water before you rinse the glass in the sink.

"Do you not get paid a regular salary each month?" He wonders. You shake your head.

"I do, but it's the monthly bonus that keeps me afloat." You explain. "And I only get that one if I'm not sick and bring appropriate numbers to the table." You sigh. "My landlord just searches for a reason to kick me out, I'm sure." You mumble as you dry your hands.

"How come?" Jungkook asks.

"I didn't want to go out with the guy." You shrug, not looking at him. "I like older men, but sixty? No thanks.." You huff, turning around to look at a smug looking Jungkook, his arms crossed.

"Would've never guessed." He tells you in a cocky manner, and you cross your arms to mirror his position in an exagerated manner.

"I would've probably let you screw me if you were younger too." You respond.

"Oh?" He raises his brows. This is oddly fun. "Were you that needy?" He teases, and suddenly, your eyes soften quite a bit, scaring him.

"No." You shake your head. "Guess you were just that charming." You shrug.

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"If your job pays that awful, why not change it?" Jungkook wonders as he maneuvers out the parking lot, leaving Taehyung's home behind after Daehyun had gone to bed.

You shrug.

"I'm lucky I got accepted in this one." You say. You're tired- it's obvious to him. "I dropped out of school too early. Now I'm facing the consequences- and honestly, it's not that bad either. I get by, and it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice." You offer.

"Do you not have any ambitions?" He asks, relaxed now that he knows you're not one to be overly sensitive when it comes to more personal topics like that. You don't try to read between the lines where there's most of the time nothing at all to find.

"Its not like I don't have any ambitions." You respond, neither denying nor confirming. "It's more that I realized some of those ambitions were.. unrealistic. So I instead pursued what was." You shrug. "Nothing too deep. It's.. part of growing up, I guess." You explain.

Growing up. Talking to you, right now, truly does remind him of that. Almost two hands between you both in years, but you're awfully matured in the way you think at its core. You just have a softer shell around it, your opinions can still move, your mind still has some sort of wiggle room.

His doesn't. He makes decisions and sticks by them, most of the time. He doesn't like change, he enjoys his routine, keeps everything in order most of the time- until now.

Because you're definitely a decision he keeps bending around.

"How much is your rent?" Jungkook asks, and you look at him from where you're leaning against the car's window, an amused expression on your face.

"Why? You wanna be my sugar-daddy?" You joke, and he shrugs, much to your surprise.

"I don't care what you call it." He simply says. "But if it get's you to take some time and take care of your health, I can take care of a month's rent." He offers.

"I don't like that." You respond.

"I know." He laughs. "I've come to learn that you don't like accepting help. But it's something you can't avoid at times." He explains to you. "I'm just offering help. Whether or not you take it, is up to you." He shrugs.

"Why would you do that?" You wonder, suspicious.

"Because Taehyung worries about you. And Daehyun would be terribly upset if something was to happen to you." He admits. "I don't know you well enough to say that I'm doing this for you- so I'll be honest. I do this mostly for them." He says.

You nod. You like this- that he's actually telling the truth, instead of trying to woo you into something.

"Alright." You sigh, tired. "I'll.. text you?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I have your number from Taehyung already." He chuckles. "I just didn't have a reason to reach out yet." He admits.

You just nod, eyes falling shut for longer he notices.

You must be working hard if you're this exhausted. He really hopes you'll take care of yourself after he helps you sort everything out.

Hopefully his help is enough.

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He's lost control over the situation. How can this happen a second time?

He's been texting you these past few days, especially after you've finally took some time off of work to sort out your doctor's visits, having received some medication to finally help you resolve your issues.

He's not sure why he keeps coming back to you. And he's especially not sure how the hell he managed to get himself caught up in a situation like this twice, especially after Taehyung had been clearly upset about the first time.

There's something about you he can't really pin-point. It's both scary, and exciting.

You're kneeling on a small heart-shaped pillow from your small couch, hands occupied and slicked up with your own spit as you caress his length, head of it warm inside your mouth as you lick and suck. You've offered, and he assumed it to be a joke- but the moment you got down between his legs, all of his usual control over things went out the window. He might appear to be the one in charge, right in this moment, but he's truly at your mercy.

It makes him anxious. This shouldn't be happening.

But he can't deny the appeal of you taking care of him so well- it feels scarily intimate to have you between his legs like this, eyes closed as you seem to enjoy yourself, mostly due to his own hand reaching out to run his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face and taking the chance to offer some form of affection before he collects your hair in his fist for a second, long sigh escaping him as he feels the tip of your tongue push against the head of his cock, dipping into the small point, before you adjust your legs, letting go of him for just a second to lick from the base to the very tip once more.

You're a succubus, hidden behind a pretty face and sinful body.

He's not sure what your motivation is, hasn't really figured it out for the first time either. There's this little devil on his shoulder constantly urging him to accept your advances and let himself go, but the angel is louder, and keeps on feeding him doubts about the whole thing. He's consumed by his work, he doesn't have time for you, he can't offer you what you might want from a relationship. He doesn't even know if he himself is ready for something like that- he knows he should be, considering how long ago his divorce had been finished, but it's still odd to think about it. He's scarred by what went down, and doesn't want to go through this again.

He can handle being hated by one person he used to love. He wouldn't be able to have two doing the same.

It made him wonder if he's even someone worthy of having a relationship. Does he have enough to offer you that's not physical or monetary? No. He doesn't have time, he's awkward as hell, he doesn't like parties and rather enjoys laid back vacations somewhere no one knows him- if he even takes one at all. He wants a quiet life-

A quiet life?

'it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice.'

Maybe it's your hands on his cock, the back of your tongue over his tip, or the way your fingers suddenly move to massage his balls just right- but he's facing this horribly ironic moment of both pleasure and realization at the same time as his cum shoots into your mouth, lips sealed over the head to suck him for all he's got. His hand keeps pushing your head, fingers digging into your hair, and you moan quietly at the faint sting of it.

His head rests back on your couch. His hand loosens, letting you go, while his eyes stay closed, breath deep and uneven as he tries to calm himself. He doesn't even realize how you tuck him back into his underwear as he softens, though you leave the fly and belt untouched, instead moving to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

You wait. For what? You're not sure.

"I.." He starts, taking in a deep breath, a hand through his hair trying to sort him out again. "..you.."

"Was it good?" You wonder almost innocently, watching him amused.

He nods. "Very." He simply answers, brain dumb. He hates this.

"Nice." You smile, before you move to put the little pillow back on the couch. "Do you wanna.. leave right now? Or stay for coffee?" You wonder, treating this all way more casual than he is. He's not sure what to do. But he knows you need to talk about this.

"Can you come here for a second?" He asks, and you nod, putting down the mug you got out of the pantry, making your way over to him to sit on the couch next to him. "I hope you know this isn't.. needed. I honestly just wanted to help you out with rent." He urges, and you nod.

"I know." You say, making him feel a bit lighter. "Was that.. not something you wanted?" You worry, but he shakes his head.

"I'm.. I'll have to be honest here." He sighs, having closed his pants and adjusted himself prior already, not leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. He can't look at you- not if he wants to be honest and straight forward. "I'm not sure." He offers. "I think it's clear that there's an attraction going on- but I don't know how far this can go."

"I'm not in love with you or anything." You defend yourself. "Neither do I have a crush. I just like you." You shrug.

"That's good." He nods to himself. "It's good that you know that. That you... can distinguish it."

"I think your problem might have something to do with.. my age?" You wonder, and Jungkook turns his head towards you, eyes staying on your knees however. "Yoongi mentioned something once. That he has a friend who has some sort of mid-life crisis right now and thinks he's too old for everything." You giggle.

"And how do you know that would be me?" He calls you out a little offended.

"Because it just fits." You laugh. "You play around with Dae all the time, but the second someone watches you, you become all awkward. It's kinda sad." You admit.

"How so?" He wants to know.

"Because it's dumb." You say, leaning back against your couch.

"Maybe for you. But when you're my age-" He starts, and you suddenly start to laugh, cutting him off.

"See! That's how I know you're the one with the crisis!" You joke, hand hitting his shoulder playfully, and without any intention to hurt. "I'm not a kid. I can make my decisions just fine." You say.

"And your decision is?" He wonders, now looking at you.

"That I want to get to know you." You tell him. "I want to.. see where it goes." You offer.

"What if it goes nowhere?" He argues. "I can't promise you some fairytale love-story." He denies. "I'm divorced, I want children at some point, I don't like parties, I work long hours-"

"But that's stuff that we can work out, no?" You wonder. "Time is what you're scared of, right? Then how about this-" You say, suddenly sitting on your knees, body facing his. "Every day you're not trying is a day you could be spending in a more productive way. For example, by getting to know me. Trying out if your idea of a relationship aligns with mine, if your work schedule is too packed, all of that." You offer. "Right now, we could already be talking about more interesting things than the 'what-if'. Or, in your big-man-terms:" You joke, leaning closer to him. "You're wasting time."

"Have you ever considered a career in communication-training?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're awfully great at this." He praises, making you giggle.

"Nah, I like my normal nine-to-five." You say. "Even if it barely pays enough."

"Well I heard someone's taking care of rent at the moment." he offers, reaching out to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Well, only for a month, so that's a bummer." You shrug, leaning into his hand now holding your cheek.

"..I'm not used to being in a relationship." He sighs.

"We can start just being friends." You respond.

"I think we're a little past the general boundaries of friendship." He chuckles.

"Then friends who occasionally have sex." You roll your eyes.

"That's not very romantic." He argues.

"You can fuck me with music in the background?" You joke, and he shakes his head, laughing.

You're truly far more than he thought you are, and he's not sure if he's worth your time. But he wants to be. Looking at you, right now, he wants to be worth it. He wants to put the effort into it, even if it doesn't work out in the end. He wants to try- so that even if you don't fit, you at least had some good memories together that were worth the time spent.

He wants to try.

Even if it's a mistake.

[starry-fame]

18+ Mercy [Sylus x Gender Neutral!Reader/MC]

Summary:

He’s addicting. The way his eyes look up at you, the way his lips curl, the latent hunger in his eyes.

You’re sure he wants to devour you completely.

You fear you may like it.

Tags: Smut, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Complicated Relationship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender Neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 6,167

Author's Notes: My No Defense Zone fic I took forever on when I wrote it lol, love this man. Meant to take place as an alternative - 'what if they fucked' ending lmao

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Frenzied breaths, a deep groan, the rise and fall of his pretty, exposed chest as your grip tightens around his strained erection. A broken noise vibrates against your neck, warm, and his hips jerk as you drag him with each pump of the wrist. Closer, closer—

The scene fades, melting away like warm honey. You groan and curl up further, muddled, disoriented, and almost convince yourself to let your mind fade into sweet serenity. It was good, felt so good, and-

…What the hell were you thinking? You jolt, startle yourself out of your spiraling thoughts and reorient. A smooth leather couch, the blurry edges of a home that costs more than you’d ever make in a lifetime, and that infuriating silver-haired man sat across the table at the armchair, idly flickering through vinyl records (you know he likes the classics.) Your eyes follow the moment of his fingers before slowly trailing up to his face. His lip quirks into a barely perceptible smirk.

“Were you dreaming?”

“You should’ve woken me up. Or given me a blanket. Hospitality much?” You grumble, properly sitting up and rubbing your bleary eyes. His own crimson ones crinkle at that, and your mind flashes — panting, the hard edges of a flushed chest as you trail your fingers down further and further. “Don’t be shy now,” He retaliates against your featherlight touch. His lip curls, trembling body betraying his collected expression. Your fingers press above his waistband, his hips push into your hand and—

You look away, but somehow, Sylus’s gaze bores into you like he can read every last filthy thought that plagues your mind. You grunt, briefly indulge in the flush-faced Sylus from your dreams overlapping with the amused one in front of you. That image of him so pliant under your touch, the thought that you could potentially work him to that state, bolsters your confidence.

“Mhm. I dreamt of a horse. An annoying one. Refuses to be tamed, tells me I’m bluffing and overreaching,” You say, leveling Sylus with a stare. It’s not the first time you’ve challenged Sylus, but this enigma manages to have you on guard with a single effective look.

“That so? What exactly did you do to him, then?” He muses, playing along. You slowly rise and approach him, pausing to stand at the armchair as his head tilts up at you in curiosity. Neck strained up, a huff of laughter leaving his throat as your hands splay across warm chest and slide down firm muscle to his hips. “Look at me,” you command when his eyes flutter shut, and drag his hips closer. He inhales sharply, and opens his eyelids just enough to see a sliver of red. Your lips drift to his pretty pale neck and bite, pulling a low grunt from him, then—

You roughly grab his chin, observing his stupidly attractive face from various angles as Sylus contentedly lets you, eyes narrowing, but otherwise unbothered. If he still wore that collar of his in the dream, you could yank him the proper way, snatch the air from his throat. But you suppose this will have to do. You finally step closer and tilt his neck up high, so you’re directly above him as you sneer down at him. “A little roughhousing never hurt. What do you think I should’ve done to him?”

Maybe he’s amused, or perhaps impressed, but Sylus laughs, a rich deep sound from the bottom of his throat. The way that sound rings through your ears, the way you enjoy it, pisses you off. You press a firm thumb against his lips to silence him, soft and pink under your touch.

Sylus’ gaze is a strange phenomenon. You only really know two proper emotions from this man: anger, and appeased. There’s always this cocky air to him, not an ounce of humility. So even when he’s staring up at you like this, it’s somehow just as powerful as him looking down on you. His chin is in your hand. You’re the one above him.

Yet, you can’t shake this strange sense of foreboding. You don’t know Sylus well enough to make much of him aside from his eccentricities, and him being a blatant heartless bastard. This sort of mystery, these missing puzzle pieces that create the shell of a man before you, make withstanding his presence feel like you’re subjecting yourself to a lone night in the wilderness with no gear, vulnerable to attack.

‘Do you hate me?’ Your mind flashes back, recalling him in ruby red robe and gimmicky cuffs. His scoff, the aversion of his eyes as he uttered ‘astounding misunderstanding’. He harbors no hate, yet, you can’t help but wonder if he likes you either.

“A little roughhousing, hm?” Sylus chuckles, and before you can even make space for him, he’s lifting from his seat and your hand falls slack to the side, default restored to craning your head up at this man. While you prefer looking from above, you’d be a liar if you tried to argue you hated him looking down at you. In theory, maybe, because you know he thinks everything is beneath him. But in practice, his lower angle is, unfortunately, just as attractive as his upper one.

“Wanna test that theory?”

And just as alarm bells start ringing, acknowledging the impending danger in those words, he’s crowding you back towards the couch. Not even aggressive, rather, a slow approach. A damn predator stalking his prey, and that’s somehow even more harrowing. Before you can slip from his icy gaze, the back of your knees catch against leather and his hand shoves you backwards, an inelegant yelp escaping your lips as you tumble back onto cushion. One leg crams between your own, his hand overlapping yours, pinning it to the backrest.

“Gh—Let go of me!” you gasp, strain your confined hand and lift an arm to shove him away. He snatches that one in the air with a scoff and pins both of your arms firm, hovering over you and face too damn close to think properly. Your heart thunders, somewhere between attracted and terrified. When he’s got you cornered, eyes gleaming in the warm ambiance of the room, the crimson in his gaze penetrates you. The creeping sensation of your soul being laid bare, infiltrated and consumed as he gauges your desires. Your lips quiver and quickly you shut your eyes, shaking your head vehemently.

“Don’t— I won’t let you use your-!”

“Pfft.” A humored breath leaves Sylus’ mouth. One of his hands lets yours free, and you feel those fingers decide to capture your face instead, stroke a large, soft thumb beneath your eye as he murmurs.

“You think I need that to figure out what you’re thinking right now, sweetie?”

Your ears tickle at that nickname, annoyed yet maybe a little… comforted? He uses it halfway between an insult and endearment, mostly the former, but occasionally the later. It’s condescending as hell, but shit, everything this man does is. You grit your teeth and slowly open your eyes to peer into his, and his own seem to twinkle in approval. No glowing, just a piercing red that carries a thousand secrets and the ability to strip your soul bare and destroy it from the inside out.

The color of spider lilies. You wonder how many people breathed their last breath in the midst of this gaze.

You exhale, free hand flexing as you silently debate pushing him away again. You feel small, pinned against the couch so easily. While most people would be no problem, Sylus seemed to love being the exception to every damn rule in the book. You don’t know what hole this powerhouse crawled out of, but being so soundly beaten by this man puts a bigger dent on your ego than you’re willing to admit.

“How long are you gonna stay like this?” You snap, jumping to your usual defense as you glare at him. He raises a brow, naturally, and the hand cradling your face sneaks down to press the pad of his thumb against your parted lips — warm breaths, his moist lips under your thumb as he watches you with eyes that make you lose all sense of reason. You lean down, fervently, and before you can even think, you bring your lips to his—

You try to banish the thought from your mind, let the dream rest, but it plagues you. Every damn look this man gives reminds you of his groans, the way his body is so responsive and trembles when you kiss at his chest and squeeze his cock.

He’s not—you’re not—his thumb swipes over your lips and your brow scrunches as you look him in the eye. He watches you like a puzzle itching to be solved, fingers dipping down to smooth over the front of your throat. Some embarrassing noise, what you’ll tell yourself was merely a sound of surprise, rumbles in your throat and you squirm, pulling your neck away. That man’s hand anywhere near your neck screams death and reminds you of the first time you were not so pleasantly held by it. You try to escape his touch but he stubbornly keeps his hand there, stroking it with a gaze you can only describe as ‘fascination’.

He watches your pulse, enthralled — and that look narrows into something else. Something you refuse to put a name to before his eyes flicker back up to yours. He chuckles, leans real close so his face takes up your entire field of vision.

“Scared, doll?”

Doll. Porcelain. Fragile. Easily manipulated and broken. You might just hate that nickname the most.

“Of—Of course I’m not,” you lie through the skin of your teeth, biting your lip to fight the strange foreboding welling in you. He’s stroking one of the most vulnerable areas of your body so gently and it fills you with a mix of apprehension and something very, very different.

“We can stop. You can ride home on that bike of yours. Word of warning, fuel’s low. Might break down on your way back,” He whispers, no, fucking purrs in your ear and holy shit, what the fuck. Your body trembles to that and of course he notices and snorts. There’s no way in hell, no way you’re gonna let this man press you against the couch and fucking terrify you one minute and arouse you the next. Hell, maybe you’re still both. The hand stroking your neck could easily crush it on its own, let alone Sylus’ evol.

Fuck, this isn’t—this wasn’t—

“You…!” You hiss, his hand goes from your neck to your collarbone, warm, big, and the feeling makes you shudder. You shake your head, almost in denial, and begin stammering.

“You’re a prick..!”

“Oh?” He hums, and the hand enveloping yours begins stroking the back of it

“And cruel. And heartless. And way too damn cocky, you really need to be humbled, and—“

You hear that gorgeous laugh right beside your ear as he leans down, face disappearing into your neck with strands of silk hair brushing your chin. Warm breath lingers, and you gulp but don’t let up.

“Someone really oughta put you in your place, knock you down a peg so you’re not so—mmm!” You can’t swallow down the gasp that leaves you when warm lips press against your pulse. His kisses trail along your neck, like a fire, and your body curls up as your free hand clings to his sweater. Fuck, feels good—and he’s nipping and sucking so sweetly you know it’ll for sure leave marks, that asshole.

“Such a noisy little kitten,” he chuckles, the noise makes you whimper and cling to him tighter, drag him to you. He pleasantly complies, presses his chest against yours and nudges his knee against your open thighs. His fingers sneak in your hair, pulling it back and exposing your neck completely so all you can do is weakly complain as he makes a perfect mess of your throat. Pays special attention to suck where it makes you sputter, soothing with gentle bites, his warm tongue.

“What are you, a vampire?” You hiss, quickly dissipating into a sigh when he knows just the right place to put his lips to make your body tremble. His breath, mouth, lips, so warm, so so warm, and then his kisses are trailing up to your jaw and—

His lips hover. So close and so perfect over yours. There’s a fire in his eyes, a heat that burns in them and makes your entire body feel alight. When you open your lips and they nearly brush his, you feel your face warm and quickly turn your head away to avoid his mouth, lips trembling. You can’t even look him in the eye, fidgeting with his shirt as you purse your lips. It’s not like it’s anything special. Really—but somehow a kiss to the lips feels more embarrassing, more intimate than anything else he could do in that moment.

He laughs at your avoidance, strokes your cheek and places a kiss right where his thumb was seconds ago.

“Aren’t you cute,” he teases, and you wanna glare and refute, but your words always catch in your throat when met with those striking eyes. He turns your head to him, his mouth quirks up, and he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. Too soft and too sweet for him. It’s so uncharacteristic you can’t even think properly. Foreign, unbeknownst, yet eerily familiar.

There’s no deeper meaning behind his smirk, his lips. He’s just teasing you, getting a rise out of you, yeah, because he’s Sylus and Sylus is an asshole, always. And of course this asshole is kissing your cheeks and your nose and your forehead and you don’t know what to do but quiver in his hold, breathless and mind blank. It feels almost akin to affection but you know the words Sylus and affection can’t exist in the same sentence.

“To think this is all it takes to make you compliant…” he murmurs in your ear, and before you can finally find the words to snap at him, his lips are firm against yours. Bold. Your neck strains against the backrest as he presses deeper and gently coaxes your lips open, warm tongue brushing against yours. He tastes refined, like the wine sitting on the table, and his scent envelops you as you feel him everywhere, hands on your face and your own, body against yours, mouth on yours and the smell of expensive ass cologne — bougie Dior or some shit. You sigh and pull him closer, bite at his lip and groan into his open mouth. He openly accepts, low rumble in his throat as he pushes right back, pauses for a moment of respite before sinking in again and kissing you breathless.

His fingers wander, rough, and release your hand to catch at the hem of your shirt and caress your trembling waist. He watches you, eyes reflecting an unspoken question. It almost infuriates you how pissed you would be if he stopped at this point. You scoff and avert your gaze, lips glued shut even as you cling to his shirt unrelentingly. You hear him laugh, low, and he slowly, achingly lifts your top up and over your shoulders, ensures you’re bare from the waist up in one fell swoop.

The slight chill makes you shudder, while Sylus’s hands take this time to roam your frame. Curl against your waist and thumb at your abdomen, which makes you tense and feel a sweet tingle run down your spine. The warmth in your core, the heat between your thighs bolsters when his lips catch at your collarbone, and kiss a path down to your chest. He’s gentle, a soft pressure and warm tongue as he drags a slew of kisses to your nipple — then he catches it in his teeth and you tense with a bitten back whimper, giving his shoulder a reprimanding push. He has a nasty habit of biting. He merely laughs and spends his time there a moment longer, sucking and holding you as your hips roll against nothing, aching. His fingers dig, as though to punish you for wanting so much so soon — like he wasn’t the reason for it in the first place.

There must be something about Sylus, something about him that just makes you lose your sense of reason. Somewhere between conscious and subconscious. Because it’s almost like a tiny part of your mind — no, even deeper, some fragment of your being buried deep and away, wants to push through and melt beneath him completely. And it’s the complete antithesis to the active part of you that wants to give him a hard time and wish eventual hell on him as retribution for his sins. It’s weird—wrong, and yet you cling to him like he might disappear into stardust if you let go.

“You want me that bad, sweetie?” He murmurs against your chest, shifts down to kiss right below your sternum, and you move your hand to tug on his silver strands in retaliation. A sharp breath leaves his nose, and watching his face scrunch, slightly twist with parted lips, you feel satisfied. He’s addicting, the way his eyes look up at you, the way his lips curl and the latent hunger in his eyes.

You’re sure he wants to devour you completely.

You fear you may like it.

He does everything with intent, a purpose. He doesn’t just touch you to feel, he touches to elicit something, to receive. You jumping into his hands as they cradle you at the pinch of your waist, you throwing your head back when he teases this sensitive bit of skin just above your waistband, some incoherent murmur when he kisses at your navel. He keeps his lips there, presses his thumbs just below and the sweet tingle makes you whine, your body tense as you try to avoid looking too desperate under him.

“Not enough, hunter? Need more?” His voice is deceptively sweet as he mouths above your waistband, dips his thumbs inside. You sigh — you don’t know if it’s from his lips or his voice, and turn your head away as he watches, amused. If he wanted a verbal response, he sure as hell wasn’t getting one. But you think he knew that already. He laughs, pops open the button of your jeans, and you lift your hips as he takes his agonizing time dragging them down.

“Such an eager thing,” he soothes, kissing your temple and not so shyly pressing a hand between your legs. You hiss and your needy hips jerk into his hand, while his deep voice speaks pleasantly into your ears. “What is it? Want my fingers? My mouth?“ His hand strokes, gentle, too damn light, and you’re shamelessly rolling your hips into his touch, dragging him by the shirt and holding him close as you get off with his hand, dizzy.

“Off. Take it off already,” you grumble against him, feeling some module of defeat, but your desire damn well overrides your pride at this point. You tug at his shirt, insistent, and he chuckles before complying and lifting it well and off.

Seeing his nude body shielded only in a towel once before doesn’t make the sight any less novel. Sure, dripping wet is a whole other thing, but just the thought of this man stripping for you and you alone at your request has your mind in shambles. You let out a solid stuttered breath, and immediately lean forward with your hands drawn to his chest, like a magnet.

Fuck he’s ripped, like a statue, feels stupid perfect under your touch. You hear what sounds like a quiet, breathy noise followed by a soundless laugh. You glance up to look at his face, a subtle amused pleasure and it immediately overlaps with the dream that inhabits your mind. You want — you need— your fingers trail down, and he shudders so beautifully, like a work of art, lips parted in a breathless moan. His sculpted abs tense and tremble under your touch and suddenly you wanna do anything, everything to him.

And before your fingers can dip lower, he’s shoving you back, pinning your wrist to the couch and capturing your lips silently. The noise that leaves you is almost as embarrassing as the way your body throbs so bad your mind grows hazy. Not fair. So not fucking fair. This kiss is deep, no, rather, a myriad of kisses over and over. Slow and steady to desperate and raw, always leaving you wondering which he’ll do next. He completely swallows any noises you could make, holds you in place so he can completely dominate. It’s stupid hot and you need him so goddamn bad. You know you’re an aching mess and there’s an embarrassing wet spot staining the underwear he left on you.

“So touchy. This how you tried to tame the horse in your dream, hmm?” He groans into your mouth, handsy all over. The more he kisses you and the more his fingers make you quiver, the more your mind goes blank.

“I-It’s—“ you try to speak, but his lips envelop yours to shut you up. One moment you’re melting against the couch, the second two strong hands hook around your thighs and you gasp as you’re hoisted in the air, automatically wrapping your legs around him to steady yourself.

You try to pull away in pure shock, grab your breath and comment, but his fingers dig into your scalp and hold you as he walks with both your mouths preoccupied. You pathetically rock into his body, seeking any form of stimulation you can manage, he can give. Instead of the bedroom like you expect, he steps back and impressively rummages through his bag on the circle table with one hand, before backing you against the large glass window. It’s cold, you wince and he thumbs your cheek to soothe.

“Sylus—I—“ you paw desperately at him, body trembling as your thoughts border on blank from the way this man kisses you and the way you flutter in response. He presses a soft lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away, watching you with dark eyes, that beautiful ruby leaving you speechless. You pant, heart thundering, and clench at his shoulders for purchase. “I’m… fuck…”

“You’re adorable when you’re like this…” He says, as though it’s a regular occurrence (you suppose it will be from now on.) You gulp and try to steady your breaths and heart that just might burst, and he’s settling you down gently. His thumb tugs at the waistband, hands dipping into your underwear and against your sensitive waist before pulling them down. You try to ignore the way you’re immediately dripping when they’re off. He takes a moment to openly admire you, eyes drinking in the sight of your swollen arousal. His thumb brushes just above and the proximity makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Like this, all for me.” It’s like a praise, and your eyes zero in on the transparent bottle in his hand. So that’s what he grabbed from his bag. He uncaps the bottle and douses his fingers without reserve — eyes flickering up to you. You fight the embarrassment his shameless gaze brings you. The anticipation that makes you throb. When he’s done, he places the bottle aside and leans down to press a light kiss to your lips.

“Relax, sweetie,” he murmurs, half teasing, half… sweet? Before you can think further on it, his hand’s already found its way between your legs and you brace yourself against the window. He bends to mouth at your neck, slow and sweet, while he swirls before pressing a thick digit in. With lube, it slips in smooth, though far thicker and deeper than you’re used to. You sigh as his other hand decides to join in and tease swollen flesh, soft strokes in time with the way he slowly teases his finger in and out.

“Sylus…” you hold yourself steady around his neck, quickly adjusting to the new pressure inside you as the strokes with his other hand ease you in. You rock into his touch, needy, and he meanly moves to pin your hips to the window instead, holding you in place while you whimper from the loss of his touch. For all that you want, Sylus only ever wants to give what he allows you to have.

“So greedy. Don’t you know you shouldn’t ask for too much at once? Lucky for you, I don’t mind indulging you every once in a while,” he chuckles — which is funny, he’ll indulge you any day of the week. Hell, pampers you even. But then he’s slipping in a second finger and your words are gone before they ever had a chance to formulate.

Your hips tingle as he drags them in and out, wet. He moves back to kiss your lips, goes at them again and again like he’s unable to get enough. Sylus is a kisser, you learn. Part of you always thought kissing was deliberately off the table for him. But the way his lips move, how damn sensual he is, and the perfect way he knows to suck on your lower lip is so good you can’t imagine him being anything else. His fingers curl deep inside and you whine, a jolt of pleasure running through your already burning body. Your body naturally rides his fingers, chasing that feeling, the way he can press against your walls so good. Makes you tremble in pleasure as he whispers quiet praises against your lips on how good you’re taking his fingers. They move and stretch, relaxing you, opening you up for him, and you can’t help but wonder how Sylus fucks as you’re hazy. Does he hold you down and pump into you mean and rough? Slow and sensual? Does he like to tease, to give, or to take? All three? Quiet whimpers leave your mouth and he’s adding a third finger the same time he goes back to stroking you.

You try to be good, to keep your hips nice and still for him. You want him firmer, harder, want to feel his touch burn on your skin for days and leave you dizzy at the mere thought. The dual sensation makes your legs tremble and it takes steadying your hands on his shoulders to keep from stumbling as he thrusts and pleasures your swollen flesh in tandem.

“Sylus… I’m… I’ll…” You try to warn him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support as you whine and quiver, his fingers insistent and hand skilled. He chuckles in your ear at your stumbled words, and fuck that makes you even more weak in the knees. The pleasure radiates from your hips all throughout, tingling, building so good and so quick. It almost surprises you how soon you’re desperately squeezing him and letting out quiet whispered noises as the build up finally overflows. Your body trembles, wrapped around him as you pulse around his fingers and against his hand, soothed by quiet praises while he strokes and finger-fucks you all throughout it, leaving you squirming when the feeling borders on unbearable.

He gives you reprieve, kisses your temple while you quiver in his grasp and try to steady your heart that’s thundering so hard you feel it in your throat.

“Knew you’d look just perfect like that,” he says, and you give him a weak squeeze in response. If you let go of his neck, you’re certain you’ll collapse on the spot.

Thankfully, Sylus, if anything, is perceptive. He wastes no time undoing his pants and moving his briefs just enough to release his eager erection, lined just with your abdomen. Naturally, you have to look, and shit. You figured he’d be something considering his damn size, but seeing it against your body makes you wonder if three fingers can even remotely compare. You tremble — maybe anticipation, maybe nerves, and comply when you’re lifted and pressed against the window so your jelly legs are given a break.

His lips mark up your neck beautifully — you can’t imagine what sorts of things you’ll need to wear to cover up the next week or two, and you subconsciously tense when you feel him slide himself between your legs, flesh sensitive and wet. His eyes lock onto yours, hot. Being so scrutinized when so helplessly at this man’s mercy makes your skin burn.

“Hm? What’s with that look? Want something?” Sylus meanly asks, and you hate the way your body responds to those words, throbs, and you watch him with a look of quiet, embarrassed defeat. Maybe you’ll have Sylus at your mercy one day, but today is not that day.

“Why are you so damn big…” you grumble, like you aren’t looking at him with heart eyes. That draws a throaty laugh from him and he leans close, lips settled right at the shell of your ear.

“So it can fit perfectly between those pretty legs of yours,” he says, and right then he uses a hand to steady his erection just where his fingers made you come undone, making you scoff and squeeze him tight.

“Perfectly isn’t how I’d describe your size in proportion to me,” you mumble. Perhaps feigning an attitude can help distract you from your nervous anticipation. Your body’s throbbing, begging, empty from his fingers and aching to be filled even after you just came.

“Really? Guess we’ll just have to see about that,” he whispers, light and teasing. In the same breath, you feel him slowly slide into you, arms supporting your legs as you sink onto his cock. You grip at him with a rushed moan, Sylus letting out a choked groan in response. You tremble, fight the urge to tense as you stretch around his size. Fuck — he’s so damn thick and fills you so much it aches. You whine and grasp at him with the effort to adjust, weakly murmuring curses.

“Dammit—shit, ah…” you choke and squeeze him close, burying one hand in his pale silver hair, and digging your shaky fingers into his shoulder. “S-Sylus…”

“That’s it, sweetie. Just like that. You can handle it,” he murmurs, tone so sweet for such mean actions as he pulls out and pushes in deeper, bottoming out. This position has you exactly where he needs you, makes you accept everything he has to offer. He’s so deep and you can feel him twitch inside, thick, an inferno, makes you sigh with each movement. He watches your face — this asshole, he likes seeing you whine — and let out a weak noise as he grinds, hips flush to you, before starting to thrust at a deep, slow pace. The warmth of his skin contradicts the coolness of the glass behind you, and you vaguely wonder how filthy your combined silhouettes must look in the distance.

It’s hard to explain the well of emotions inside you aside from pure lust. They blend together, a chunky, complicated mix of very degrees of pettiness, anger, mild fondness, and a deep-set longing you can’t pinpoint the origin of. Your body takes this longing and turns it into need, holding him to you, absorbing his warmth inside and out.

For a moment, you want to tilt your head and kiss him. You squeeze him harder instead.

You quiver around his length, each thrust accompanied by deep pleasure and a dull, pleasant ache. Sylus rewards your strain around his cock with his lips on yours, deep and devouring, stealing your already thin air. He guides you so easy, holds you up like it’s nothing while his steady thrusts slowly gain on speed. This position easily lets him slide against you in the perfect way that makes you cry out weakly, back arching. The pleasure is numbing and he brushes that area over and over, adamant on making you lose your sense of reason.

“Look at you. You handle me so well, sweetheart,” he speaks against your swollen lips like a dirty secret, panting against you as his thrusts hit the perfect spot every time. He handles your legs with ease and fucks into you harder, meaner, like he’s trying to bully these pathetic noises out of you. You whimper and claw at him, toes curling, feeling him swell as skin slaps against skin every time. His face is flush, eyes look at you like there’s no one else in the world — the only thing that exists is you a mess from his cock. His thrusts are as dizzying as his gaze you feel you can never escape, eyes half-lidded as he watches you take all of him. Your body’s a beacon of pleasure and your hips roll against his, rocking in time, wanting more, never enough.

“Please… please-fuck, Sylus… ngh…” You gasp, squeeze his hair tighter, and he fits his lips against your brow to murmur, “as you wish, sweetie.”

His hips are relentless, he stuffs you full of his cock every time and rolls his hips just the right way to make you sweetly numb, to fill you with that deep-set pleasure from within. His hair sticks to his brow, pants leave his body as his darkened eyes admire your sheen in sweat, rasping form. Fuck — he’s so — you need — he kisses at your neck and the sensitivity almost makes you sob.

“You’re shaking… you gonna come for me again all pretty?” Sylus breathes in your ear, you groan and clench him tight, making his hips sputter a moment. He smirks and picks back up his usual pace in response. You indeed feel your entire body quiver around him as the feeling grows more and more. Fuck you’ll — you — you can’t even say a word of warning as you’re suddenly letting out a choked sob, unable to control your tremors as you climax, body taut, tense. Sylus fucking you throughout only makes you whine and whimper as the feeling prolongs, white and hot. You’re so beautifully sensitive and rendered completely speechless, thoughtless. Sylus lets out quiet grunts all throughout, his own hips trembling, but pace unbroken.

Even when you come down Sylus doesn’t relent on his thrusts, he’s persistent if anything. At this point tears are pricking your eyes as you squeeze him tight, shame lost. “Please, please Sylus, fuck I can’t — please come,” you beg, sensitive, shaking, swollen, and Sylus laughs softly as his thrusts come in mean, hard, and fast.

“Mmm… How could I refuse such an earnest request?” He hums and holds you firm, his own forehead pressed against the window. It warms your ear and fogs the glass as his hips snap against yours, more erratic, your body bounced along with his rhythm and so damn sensitive you fight the urge to cry. Quiet grunts leave him, he’s more vocal, more open, and his large hands squeeze your thighs as he gasp and twitches. He buries deep and spills, releasing a pleasant groan right into your hot ear. He’s so close, feels so alive under your fingers and inside you, his heart an impossibly fast rhythm that puts yours to shame. You feel every throb, and you moan weakly as you’re held up, body swallowing every last drop. When he pulls out of your swollen hole, you feel the strength leave you and his cum drip down filthily.

“There you are, sweetie. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he soothes, and holds your weak body up with the same ease he had the first time despite the time elapsed. This kindness feels as wrong from him as it does right. When you weakly rest your head on his shoulder to look at him, his sweet eyes return the gaze, appeased. He carries your limp body to the couch and settles you down gently, swiping a thumb across your slick forehead. “You had quite the workout,” he comments. You glare and push his shoulder away, earning a chuckle.

“Aw, don’t pout.”

“Next time…” you hiss, holding a finger up to him. ‘Next time’ implying this will be regular. ‘Next time’ implying Sylus is not only the fearsome Onychinus leader you’ve been made to deal with, but is now a man you fuck (and something… more?) on top of it. “You’ll be the one at my mercy.”

Sylus blinks, tongue lax as he observes you in mild surprise.

Then, his face melts into a soft grin.

You’ve seen so many new expressions from Sylus today, it’s like you’re meeting him again for the first time. He grabs your hand and gently interlocks your fingers, watching you with a look you can only describe as ‘affectionate’.

It makes your face burn.

He adjusts his hand so he’s grasping your palm, and he drags yours to his lips, dropping a soft kiss on your fingertips.

“As you wish, your majesty.”

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

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