#I’ll beat you with a brick

[thelucidduchess]

The Underworld Saga experience

[loderlied]

would gort call eke his little lamb as well. he would wouldn’t he

[melon-fodder]

-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-

♡ WARNINGS: NON-CON! mind control, forced orgasms, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, aphrodisiac quirk

♡ WORD COUNT: 1.6k

♡ NOTE: y’all, for real, this is straight up non-con. There is nothing “dubious” about this. It’s dark and dirty.

As soon as the cloud of pink hits him, Shinsou knows that something is wrong. It tickles his nose, coats his throat, makes his mouth taste like too-sweet candy. He coughs, but it only makes the pressure in his head grow. Vision blurring, blood burning, Shinsou can only watch as the small-time villain turns and runs away. The condescending laugh that rings out behind her is almost as dense as the pollen settling over his uniform.

Dropping to his knees, Shinsou clutches his stomach, groans as arousal threatens to boil his insides. Fucking aphrodisiac quirks. He’s been warned about them, but he’s never experienced one.

Within seconds, he’s rock hard, leaking into his pants, pre dripping out of his dick with every god damn beat of his heart. He has to cum. Immediately.

There’s an alleyway a few yards away, dark and secluded and out of plain view. He can make it that far. He can–

“Hey, are you okay?”

The voice of a goddess–a siren singing the most seductive song. Shinsou looks up to find the source to be you, a civilian, frowning down at him in concern. His senses were already heightened from adrenaline, but something about the quirk is overloading them. He can see every color in your worried eyes, hear every one of your breaths, smell your perfume and shampoo, sweat and…

“Can you hear me?”

Shinsou nods, tells you in a strained voice, “I’ll be… fine,” then without making the conscious decision, activates his own quirk. Your pretty face goes slack, gaze blank, and just like that, Shinsou has himself a little puppet.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He really hadn’t meant to do it. But he’s not thinking straight. He can’t think straight. Not when the fabric of his hero suit feels like it’s rubbing his dick raw. “Help me to the alley,” he commands, and you obey without a word.

That’s all. He’s just going to get to a hidden place, release his quirk, apologize and thank you for your assistance. It’s the dead of night, anyway. You should be getting home and out of harm’s way. You definitely shouldn’t be in this dirty fucking alley, least of all with Shinsou while he’s in this state.

Because even as his back hits the wall, all he can do is stare at you. Stare at you and pant, lick his lips while imagining what yours would feel like around his cock.

It’s disgusting. You’re a stranger. A civilian. Absolutely helpless. And Shinsou is a pro-hero with so much fucking power over you. He could make you do anything–could make you kneel, lick his boots, walk right into traffic, strip off every single piece of clothing.

“Stay still,” he tells you, and you do.

You know you’re in danger. Fear tickles the edge of your mind, but it dissipates before fully forming into anything useful. It’s like a whispered voice telling you to run, but even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able. You can’t do anything unless he tells you to.

You’ve seen him before, the hero patrolling the streets in the middle of the night. He wears all black except for the scarf haphazardly looped around his neck. Purple hair hangs down around his face in thick tresses, unkempt and rugged. If you were actually cognizant, you would think he was hot, but currently all you feel when you look at him is a strange, contradictory mixture of calm and unease.

You’re still, just as he told you to be, but not stiff. Your body moves according to his touch, shoulders shrugging when he pushes your coat off. You feel the cool air against your skin, should shiver but can’t as if something has shut off your higher-level thinking as well as your base instincts. All you can do is breathe and feel.

“Against the wall,” he says.

Your feet are heavy as you take the few steps toward the bricks, facing them with your back to him. He doesn’t tell you to turn around, so you can’t see him when he undoes his utility pants, just hear the rustle of fabric and the low groan that leaves his throat.

“M’sorry about this,” he huffs, “I really am. I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Your heart is pounding too fast in your chest, but you’re only vaguely aware of it, just like you’re only vaguely aware of what’s about to happen to you.

“Pull your pants down.”

You do, hands moving without your permission as you pop the button on your jeans and push them down to your thighs.

“Panties, too.”

It’s cold, and you’re very exposed, but your head feels so empty. Or maybe it’s too full. Stuffed with tangled string or rough wool while something that resembles actual human intellect tries to wiggle out of the depths.

You don’t know. You don’t know anything except there are fingers probing your entrance–clumsy and desperate, and the man behind you swears when he realizes you aren’t prepared in any sense of the word.

“Can’t just shove in dry,” Shinsou mumbles, taking a shaky breath before stealing yours when he orders, “cum.”

Your eyes don’t roll. You don’t moan or cry or buckle at the knees. But you do feel the heat form and explode in your gut all at the same time, feel your pussy spasm and clench and coat your insides with slick arousal just in time for the hero to stuff your hole with his cock.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

His forehead is clammy against your shoulder, fingers gripping your hips as he impales you over and over. It’s fast, and rough as your body stretches around his unfamiliar length. He’s huge and hot inside of you, fat mushroom head dragging against gummy walls.

Shinsou loses it as he buries himself inside of you, hips snapping back and forth with no real rhythm. He just wants to cum, needs to, and he’s already so close. You feel so fucking good around him, pussy fluttering helplessly as he shoves you harder and harder against the grimy building.

He doesn’t bother pulling out, just groans deep in his throat when he shoots his load inside of you. It feels good, relief flooding his system for about three seconds before his cock starts twitching with need again.

“God dammit. God dammit.”

He thrusts in harder, panting an apology when he fists a hand in your hair and shoves your face into the wall. It’s absentminded and disingenuous. Truly, Shinsou doesn’t care about anything now, only focused on getting rid of the pressure in his balls. He wanted to be nice and gentle, but he feels like he might be going crazy.

The scent of your arousal hits his nose, and Shinsou lowers his face to your shoulder, licks up your neck and leaves a trail of spit on your skin. His eyes are rolling in his head, sweat is dripping down his back, and something is leaking out of his cock– a steady stream of semen dribbling out of his tip to keep from fucking aspirating it.

“Cum,” he commands, not thinking when he says it again and again.

You convulse in his grip, cunt clamping down on him as you’re hit with multiple orgasms back to back. He should feel bad, but he can’t–not when you’re milking his cock, not when he’s filling your pussy with more of his spend, so much that it starts flowing down your thighs.

“Fuck, sorry–feel so good, though.”

Shinsou keeps moving, keeps fucking you even as you go limp against him. His teeth find purchase on your throat, and he whines like a dog as he drools all over you while rutting into your abused pussy. One hand grips your hip while his other arm is across your body, securing you against him as he squeezes one of your tits.

He still isn’t done. Even after he fucks a third… a fourth… a fifth load of cum into you, it isn’t over. Shinsou doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from this. Maybe this is who he is now–a villain, taking girls off the street and assaulting them in alleyways.

Because that’s exactly what he’s doing. You didn’t give him permission to do this. You didn’t willingly let him put his hands on you. No, there’s a word for what he’s doing right now, one he never thought would apply to him, but he’s too lost right now for it to sink in. He may have taken away your ability to think, but Shinsou is definitely the one who’s lost his mind.

“Cum again,” he growls,” and when you don’t he realizes you’re unconscious.

A rough hand grips your chin, jostles your head until you wake up. There is a split second of clarity, seeing the dark brick in front of you, feeling the cold air against you, the way your sore body is being stretched and handled.

“Wha–oh my go–”

“Ah, ah… shh…”

Just like that, he’s in control again, and you’re a little doll for him to play with as he pleases. You feel achy and full and messy. Viscous fluid leaks out of you, slithering down your legs and staining your pants.

You don’t know how long this will last, don’t know how many times he’ll empty himself inside of you, how many more times he’ll force you to cum. You just hope that once it’s all over, he’ll give you one last command:

Forget.

[distantdarlings]

LET ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theodore Nott has been harassing you ever since he found out you had a crush on him. Now, you’ve been paired together for a project for McGonagall’s class and he has nothing good in mind.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, sub!reader, Dom!Theo, slightly rough!dom!Theo, marking kink, slight size kink, bulge kink, brief dumbification, brief spit kink, reader wearing a skirt, light enemies to lovers, language, one (1) slap, name-calling, praise kink, slight degradation, public sex, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), Theo is persistent, not proof read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Echo - XANU

- - -

Merlin, forgive whatever you had done to deserve the treatment you were currently receiving.

You thought back on every negative deed you’d done in the last year and still hadn’t found anything worthy of your horrendous luck.

The arrogant boy turned to stare you down, malicious intent etched into the unfortunately gorgeous features of his face.

You could feel your face contort into an expression of horror as you tore your eyes away from him and turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, I—” you started.

“All partner decisions are final—no exceptions!” McGonagall finished, as if trying to answer the question you had before you could even voice it.

You deflated into your seat, your mood dropping like a brick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed the entire class was staring at you. The entire student body of Hogwarts knew how you felt about your new Transfiguration project partner, Theodore Nott. The bastard…

You glanced back up—arms crossed and lips pouted—just to find the boy still staring you down, evil smirk painted on his lips. He gave you a sardonic wave, wiggling his fingers tauntingly.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pressing an exasperated fist to your forehead.

Your knee anxiously bobbed beneath the desk, the heel of your uniform shoe beating against the floor in a flurried rhythm.

Luna Lovegood, your best friend, was sitting directly next to you. Intuitive as she always was, you knew she could feel the pure panic radiating off of you. Her hand rested on your shoulder in a small motion of comfort, but nothing could calm you now. You were utterly screwed.

McGonagall finished off the rest of her speech on the instructions for her project, then dismissed the whole class. Luna helped you to gather your things together as you struggled to force yourself to move.

Maybe you’d pissed McGonagall off? Merlin, what had you done to deserve this? You asked yourself the same questions over and over again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed Theodore flouncing over to you with an unnerving glint in your eyes.

“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest man on earth?” he said snidely.

“Fuck off, Theo,” you growled, intentionally not making eye contact with him.

You made to pick up your books and slide them into your bag, when he slammed his hand down on the cover of one of them, pressing them down against the desk. He pinned your fingers beneath them against the wood—just enough to keep them sturdy, but light enough so that it didn’t hurt you.

“Stop!” You yanked your fingers out from beneath the books, the heavy leather smacking against the table with a thud. Now, you made eye contact with him.

“What are we going to do our project on, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that!” You yanked your books out from underneath his strong hold and shoved them quickly into your bag. “We can discuss it in the library after class.”

“I’m looking forward to it—I’ll be sure we get a quiet corner, you know…,” he stepped closer to you, “…so I can explore every inch of…the subject.”

You sneered in disgust and pulled away from him, his voice still rattling in your ears.

“You’re disgusting,” you scoffed. “I’ll see you later for nothing more than our assignment.”

“Looking forward to it…can’t wait to put those big brains to use. Lovegood.” He nodded politely to Luna before heading off.

You glanced at Luna and acknowledged her slight smile. Everything in you was telling you to snap at her and tell her not to encourage any of the delinquent boy’s behavior, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever be very mad at Luna Lovegood. At least, not for long.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took off toward the door, bag swinging between your shoulder blades.

“Wait up, friend!” Luna shouted lightly, running to catch up with you. You snorted and laughed at her, letting her sunlight hair fall into step beside you.

- - -

By the time your last class of the day dismissed and the sun had begun to sink beneath the Hogwarts skyline, you were soaked through with nerves. The saturation of your anxiety had managed to breach every protective barrier you held up, and fill your hands with shudders and your stomach with nausea.

The root of your nerves when it came to Theo came from the consistent comments he insisted on making toward you. It seemed that he loved nothing more than dropping sexual hints into your ear every few days just to watch you squirm. He’d only started this after he’d heard through the grapevine you had a bit of a thing for him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and that his words had absolutely no effect on you, but you couldn’t deny that he was just as annoying as he was charming.

It had gotten to a point when he made those comments that he loved to joke aloud about your reactions to him, effectively embarrassing you in front of all of your peers. That was your final straw. All resemblance of an attraction toward Theo had melted away and been replaced by hatred.

And yet, as your feet led you to the grand library, you couldn’t stop the rapid pattering of your heart beat. Something about the boy had always been so…irresistible to you. Whether it was the way he always knew where to place his hands when he “accidentally” brushed you, or how he knew exactly what to say when he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. You figured you should be grossed out and tell him to get away from you, but, unfortunately, you kind of liked it when he did those things.

As you came up to one of the several library doors lining the wall before you, you decided to try and swallow your nerves and focus only on the project. That was what you were supposed to do anyway—this wasn’t a date.

You pulled one of the doors open and slipped into the warmly-lit room. It always seemed to be just a tad bit cozier here than anywhere else in the castle—whether that was from the multiple fireplaces or the sweet aroma that floated through the air. Either way, you loved it.

Your neck craned as you glanced about, trying to glimpse the cocky boy, but to no avail. Wherever he was, he surely wasn’t interested in making it easy on you to find him.

A sigh left you as you started toward the back of the library where a couple tables rested behind a few conveniently placed bookcases. Unfortunately, the feeling in your stomach told you that he surely would be sitting at one of those tables, simply because you knew how his dirty, little mind worked.

That corner of the library was…infamous for its concealed nature. Everyone in Hogwarts had heard the little rumors that fluttered about, of couples getting a bit too friendly with each other while the librarian was downstairs.

Because of those rumors, it had garnered a reputation. And if someone who had a penchant for gossip slipped past you and Theodore Nott studying back there, you’d be screwed.

Once you passed the last book case, zigzagging between the three that formed the perfect labyrinth, you came upon Theo comfortably waiting at the table in the middle. A groan of defeat left you and your head dipped back. You stared at the ceiling for a few moments while contemplating your options—you could still run away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Theo said, leaning his chin down on his propped up fists. “I’ve been waiting so impatiently for you.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You crossed over to the table and sat across from him—the farthest away you could get. Your bag collapsed to the ground and unzipped itself on the way down. The things you needed for this assignment floated out and landed neatly on the table before you, including a few rolls of parchment, a quill and ink, and your books.

He marveled silently, seemingly trying to hide his fascination at your wandless magic. Perhaps if he studied as hard as you did, he would also be able to achieve it.

“Alright, shall we do this?” you asked, maintaining a bored expression.

“I’d love to,” he smirked. “But I’d love to showcase a bit of my magic as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“What—?” Your voice was cut off with a slight gasp as all four legs of your chair lifted off of the ground. Your fingers wrapped around the sides of your seat to keep you from slipping off.

Theo’s eyes followed your chair as it floated over the table and all the way beside him. Once your shoulders were inches from his, your chair dropped a few centimeters to the ground. A small yelp came from you as you regained your balance and glared at him. Perhaps he was a better wizard than you thought.

“What the hell, Theo?” you demanded, immediately scooting your chair away from him, putting a good few inches between you.

“I just thought we’d be able to work better closer together,” he purred, his arm dropping against the table to cage you against him and the bookshelf a bit to your left. You eased away from him so you were closer to the shelves than you were to him. His eyes never dropped from yours. “Merlin, what is that smell? You smell absolutely divine—”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” you interrupted him, pushing his approaching body back away from you.

“Mm, alright,” he smiled. “Have you decided on a topic you’re interested in presenting on?”

“Actually, I have.” You pulled your books across the table over to where the two of you were sitting, flipping everything to the appropriate page. There were a couple pages in your notebook where you’d jotted some ideas down earlier today, and you’d figured he’d want to see the different ideas, as it was his grade, as well. “So, I threw a couple of ideas together in my fourth period. We can see what you think of them…”

As you explained the details of all of your ideas, it became increasingly obvious that Theo was not at all interested in what you had to say about the project. Though you refused to look directly at him, the corner of your eyes granted more than enough knowledge.

Theo’s eyes were ravenous as they drew down your body, curving across the most private areas of your curves with no shame. You could feel your cheeks burning, but hoped the warm tones from the candles around you would conceal that.

When he scooted a bit closer to you, you kept talking. And when he laid his arm across the back of your chair, you kept talking. And when his fingers began to toy with the ends of your hair, you kept talking. But when he took your quill gently from your fingers and set it down on the table, you finally stopped. You barely made eye contact with him, constantly glancing away and down to the table. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

His fingers pulled away from your hair and dropped to your shoulder. They squeezed the hard muscles a few times.

“God, you seem tense,” he spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. His other hand reached up and matched the opposite’s position on your other shoulder.

When he placed a gentle amount of pressure, it expressed a small sigh from your lips. He was right. You were very tense—in general, but especially around him.

“Here, let me…,” he stood and appeared behind you rather quickly.

“Theo, I don’t think this is appropriate. I’d really just—” Your voice cut off as soon as he began to roll your taut muscles beneath his nimble fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, pleasurable jolts of pain shocking across your neck and down your back.

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, dangerously close to your ear. “Finish telling me about your idea. I’ll just loosen some things up back here. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He pressed an especially hard drive against your skin. You bit back a moan at the sensation. You don’t think you’d ever had a better massage in your life.

You wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so fucking good. And you really were sore around your neck and shoulders.

“Theo?” you tried again.

“Read.” His voice had a commanding tone to it. One hand released your shoulder briefly to grab your books and slide them closer to you, before returning to its position against your skin.

His hands worked their way up around your jaw, cupping it gently, so he could press his thumbs against the back of your neck. You audibly sighed this time without intending to. Embarrassed, you attempted to cover it up with a clear of your throat.

You began to explain the rest of your project plan, small shudders rippling through your voice every time he’d hit an especially sore spot.

By the time he finished and pulled his hands away from you, your body was mourning the loss of him but relishing in the relief it felt. It honestly hadn’t felt far off from a professional massage.

“How’s that?” He walked around to your side, still not sitting back down.

“Er, good,” you chuckled nervously, rubbing your hand along the back of your neck, trying to spread the relief around.

“Perfect,” he smiled, gently swiping his index finger beneath your chin. He sat back down beside you.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“About what?”

“The project idea…”

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s wonderful,” he said, shrugging a bit. “I think we can work with it.”

“Theo, did you even listen?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, I did,” he chuckled. “It’s just not easy to focus when you have such a gorgeous partner.”

There went your cheeks getting insanely hot again. He thought you were gorgeous? There was no way. Someone must have put him up to this, right? Or he was fucking with you because he knew you had had a bit of a crush on him.

“I—er…” you stuttered hopelessly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He placed a hand on your knee. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your tights. The heartbeat in your ears picked up wildly.

“Don’t be nervous around me.”

“What?” you laughed suddenly. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—you’re just really…friendly? I don’t know. Why are you pretending to be so interested in me? Did someone put you up to it?”

“Why would someone have put me up to flirting with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because they know I had a thing for you,” you blurted before thinking. “I mean—”

“Nope! Can’t take it back now, my love.” Theo chuckled, an evil smirk printing across his lips. “And, for the record, no one put me up to flirting with you. I just want to.”

His hand slid up to the top of your knee as he leaned a bit forward.

“Theo!” you hissed. “We’re in the library—you can’t do that.” Though you verbally protested his actions, you couldn’t deny the heat building in your stomach at his touch.

Despite the conviction you had for needing to decline him and all of his advances, you couldn’t seem to suppress the need you felt for him right now—a different kind. His eyes remained on yours and refused to look away.

The two of you were in the library, and had seemed to despise each other’s company only minutes earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to stop his rising hand.

Soon, his fingers were toying with the edge of your skirt and his lips were millimeters from your own. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheeks.

“Theo…,” you shuddered at his proximity. His thumb slid slowly down the side of your thigh, the contact eliciting chills along your legs.

“You’ve wanted me for months,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Are you finally going to let me fuck you?”

You gasped slightly as the tip of his thumb just barely brushed your core through your panties.

“Say yes, or I’m not going to touch you anymore.”

As if on cue, his hands pulled back from you and his mouth seemed to hover a few inches away. The cold air hit the spot his hand had been occupying on your thigh and sent a row of shivers up your spine.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” you shuddered.

He shook his head slowly. “Not a joke, I just want you. Say yes, baby.”

“Y—” before you were even able to get the singular syllable out, his lips were pressing against yours and devouring them like a predator.

His hand found its place against your thigh again, the other hand following suit on the other one. He pushed them up the expanse of your skin, inching your skirts up in the process.

You moaned against his lips in embarrassment at the sudden loss of dignity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sighed against your mouth. “Let me taste you.” He pressed his lips roughly back to yours.

You gasped for air and pulled away, noses brushing against the other. “Say please,” you managed to choke out.”

“What?”

“Say please,” you repeated. “What, did you think I was going to come here and just give you whatever you wanted?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to be?” he smirked. You stared back astutely, not yielding to any teasing he tried to give.

“Alright, baby,” he conceded. He pulled himself closer to you and worked his way up your neck and to your ear, pressing chaste kisses against your flesh. “Please let me taste this sweet cunt. ‘ve been dreaming about it for months.”

You shivered at his words before nodding. You weren’t in your right mind—you couldn’t be.

He slid out of his chair and dropped to his knees. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked you to the edge of the seat. His fingers pushed your skirt up around your hips and angled you up toward his face, pulling your legs over each of his shoulders.

The cool air flushed against the hot wetness slathered across your thighs. But the shock of wintry air was canceled out quickly by Theo’s hot mouth placing against your clothed core.

Your head fell back against the chair as your hands flew to his honeyed curls.

He swirled his lips across you, gathering your lust on his tongue. Each time you let a little moan slip, he’d echo you with his own louder one. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard anywhere else in the library, but it was enough to vibrate against you and send your head spinning.

The second your thighs began to shake on either side of his sharp jaw, he pulled away from you, leaving you bare and wanting.

“Turn around,” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Obstinately, you held your chin up and refused to obey him. You wanted to appear strong and resistant as payment for how much of a dick he’d been to you, but with your quivering lips and legs still spread wide for him, you figured you didn’t quite get the point across.

He suddenly grabbed your jaw in one hand, while undoing his belt buckle with the other. Anticipation boiled in your belly.

“Turn around,” he said before suddenly and mockingly tilting his head to the side. “Or do you not understand what’s good for you?”

When you said nothing, he pulled you out of the chair and bent you over the library table. You yelped as your chest collided with the table.

Once on your stomach, he flipped your skirt over against your back and ripped your panties and stockings down your legs until the soaked things were stuck around your ankles.

Then, without another warning, he was sliding into you and stretching you wide. You gasped aloud and gripped at the smooth table, begging to find purchase on anything.

He moaned slightly at the way you clenched around him. He pushed himself into you a little more with each slow thrust, the movement splitting you down the middle. His hands held you tightly in place by your hips, pinning you down against the table.

“Shit, you feel fucking perfect,” he moaned, fingers gripping into your flesh.

Every alarm bell was ringing in your head, telling you to separate and cover yourselves, because you were in public. But, for some reason, you found yourself loving the thrill of possibly being walked in on; of possibly being found with Theodore Nott buried deep inside of you, taking his pleasure from your body.

By the time he’d finally bottomed out inside of you, he was panting and willing himself not to come prematurely.

“I’ve never felt anything this tight,” he groaned.

You hadn’t been able to see the size of him before he started pushing into you, but you had to guess he was the biggest you’d ever felt. Just having his hips pressed to your ass felt like the tip of him was brushing your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, wait,” he said, panting heavily. He rubbed your back as he slowly pulled all the way out of you and stood you up. He turned you around to face him and laid your back against the table.

He brought your legs around him and you hooked them together behind his back. You watched him with deep admiration as his fingers stroked up and down your legs, preparing to explain what he wanted.

“I want to watch me fill you up,” he whispered, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. It was sweet and thick with saliva but, despite everything else he’d done so far, this set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

His hands came away from your legs and wrapped around your waist. He watched addictively as his fingers curled entirely around your body, his large hands positively dwarfing your small frame. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes fill with an inky, black glint as he brought his hips to the underside of your thighs.

He placed his dick on your stomach, reveling in how far up your stomach it went. He moaned at the sight and pulled your right leg up and over his shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your calf.

“Theo,” you whined, still reeling from the loss of him inside of you. “Please, no more teasing.”

“Be patient, baby,” he whispered against your leg. “I want to remember this moment.”

“Theo,” you urged once more. But his hand came down hard against the outer side of your thigh. You yelped at the pain that radiated down the side of your leg.

“I said to be patient.” He soothed the pain gently with his fingers, still looking down at how big he looked compared to you.

One of the things he’d always had on you was height. No matter if the things he said were stupid and undermining, you couldn’t deny that his size was enough to have the high ground.

“Look, we don’t have all the time in the world,” you sighed, leaning up on your elbows to speak with him. “The librarian could walk in here at any—”

He pushed back into you, choking any other words in your throat. You gasped and fell back against the wooden table, the cold lacquer biting into your flesh.

“Fuck,” Theo all but whined. He pressed his fingers against your lower abdomen where his dick had created a perfect impression. Every time he pulled out then pushed back in, his sheer size forced the body wall up and simultaneously probed a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling backward.

Without wasting another second, he picked up his pace while dropping his hands down to your still-tucked in uniform shirt. He ripped the material out from beneath the waistband of your skirt, and ripped the buttons apart.

The candles floating overhead illuminated the curves and dips of your stomach, highlighting the valley of your breasts.

Hips still pistoning into you, and left hand holding your waist still, his right hand reached forward again and ripped the clip of your bra apart. Luckily, you’d worn the front access one today.

At the force of the destruction, your breasts fell apart from one another, bouncing against your dampened chest.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna mark this beautiful body. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. My girl.”

His words sent shockwaves through your system. You tried to reach for him but you couldn’t reach. Your arms fell back down against the table, your lack of anything to hold on to leaving you completely at the mercy of the pace he decided to set.

“T-Theo,” you stuttered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of his abuse.

He leaned down, pushing himself all the way into you for a moment, and latched his lips around a mouthful of your left breast. He sucked roughly on the flesh, pulling the blood to the surface. You whined through the pain that mingled with the pleasure from him below.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise painted on you, he moved toward your neck, sucking and biting just as rough, hips never halting.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

You said nothing, your lips unable to form enough to make any words come out. Your fingers still gripped uselessly at the sides of the table. One leg was held uselessly over Theo’s shoulder while the other dangled limply over the edge of the table.

He leaned up. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Still, you made no sound.

“Oh, you pathetic thing,” he whispered, lips pressing to your elevated leg once again. “Am I fucking you stupid? Is that what it is? Yeah, baby? Next time, I’ll shove this dick down your throat and see how quiet you are then, you dumb slut.”

Now, within the final moments before your finish, his thumb dropped to your clit and began to rub small circles into the nerves. Your mouth fell open and your back arched to the ceiling as his hips intensified. They forced your finish closer and closer until you were spilling all over him, coating your legs and his stomach.

At the clenching of your core, his release was barreling forward, as well. He came with a long groan and a slow walk down of the brutal pace he’d set with his hips. His spend, mixed with yours, dripped down your legs.

Finally, with him still inside of you, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He eyed you sweetly, caressing soothing lines across your temple with his thumb.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” he whispered against your lips. “Has anyone else ever fucked you so well?” There was that cocky Theo again.

“Maybe like one other person,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your jaw again and forcing you to look directly at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said. “I think I forgot his name. I’ll probably just forget yours tomorrow, too.” You teased him meanly, smirk building on your lips. This was further payback for all the months of harassment you’d dealt with from him.

He pinched your cheeks together until your lips were pushed open.

“You can forget my name, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly, “but you’ll never forget what I just did to this body.”

His eyes watched yours with an intensity like no other. Then his lips pursed, and you watched as a line of spit dropped into your waiting mouth. It was the ultimate display of humiliation, but also ownership. You belonged to Theo, now.

And even if you forced yourself to forget his name or this day in the library, you’d never wipe the taste of his claim out of your mouth.

“Now, let’s get to work on that attitude, shall we?” Theo asked, voice suddenly chipper again.

He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up, before selecting his bag off of the chair—which you’d now noticed he hadn’t even unpacked.

“Tomorrow at 6?” he asked.

Then he Disapparated, leaving you entirely exposed and alone.

That son of a bitch.

- - -

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn , @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

Part 1: New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[pucksandpower]

Don’t Touch Her

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando will do whatever it takes to ensure your safety after the unthinkable almost happens during a night out

Warnings: spiked drink, attempted SA, descriptions of seizure, hospitalization, and the implied murder of a minor character

You sway your hips to the pulsing beat, the colorful lights of the club flashing across your skin. Lando’s hands rest lightly on your waist, guiding you to the music. You lean into him, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the tang of sweat in the humid air.

“I’m parched,” you say, turning to face him. “Want me to grab you a drink?”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can get them, love. You keep dancing.”

You shake your head, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway. Same as usual?”

“Please. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You make your way through the crowded dance floor, weaving around gyrating bodies and flailing limbs. The bar is packed, patrons jostling for the bartenders’ attention. You manage to wedge yourself into a tiny gap, shouting your order over the commotion.

While waiting for the drinks, you check your phone. A few missed texts from friends, asking where you are. You fire back quick responses before pocketing the device just as the bartender slides two glasses toward you.

Vodka cranberry for you, rum and coke for Lando. You pass over a few bills, waving away the change, and turn to head back to the dance floor.

You take a long sip of your drink as you walk, the bubbly sweetness refreshing after all that dancing.

Lando is easy to spot, standing out due to the size of the crowd surrounding him. He smiles when he sees you coming, his whole face lighting up. Your heart flutters at the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the room.

You’re halfway to him when the first wave of dizziness hits. You stumble, drinks sloshing over your hands. Sudden nausea swirls in your gut. The room starts to spin, lights blurring into a kaleidoscope.

“Hey ...” You blink hard, trying to clear the fog creeping over your thoughts. “I don’t … feel so good.”

The glasses slide from your grip, shattering on the floor. You try to take a step toward Lando and the ground rushes up to meet you. Strong hands grab your arms, keeping you from collapsing completely.

“Whoa there, looks like someone started the party a little early.” The voice is unfamiliar, masculine with a hint of mocking laughter. You try to pull away but your limbs feel like lead.

“No, I ...” You shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. Through your dimming vision you can see Lando pushing through the crowd, his eyes wide.

“C’mon, there’s a back door this way. Let’s get you some air.” The man starts to guide you away, arms wrapped around your shoulders. Panic shoots through you and you try again to wrench yourself free, but it’s useless.

The cold night air hits you as the door swings open. The alley swims before you, dingy bricks and overflowing dumpsters. The man keeps walking, bearing you along while your weak protests fall on deaf ears.

Fear claws at your insides. You catch a glimpse of streetlights at the other end of the alley before he steers you into the shadows halfway down.

“S-stop,” you mumble, tongue heavy in your mouth. He just chuckles, pressing you against the brick wall.

“Shh, just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” His hand squeezes your thigh, rucking up your dress. Somewhere in the recesses of your fading mind, terror shrieks at you to fight, to run, but your traitorous body refuses to respond.

As the man leans in, the alley floods with light. Heavy footsteps pound on the pavement.

“Get your hands off her!” Lando’s voice booms with more fury than you’ve ever heard from him. The man holding you whirls around just as Lando’s fist connects with his jaw. He reels back with a cry, grip loosening. Lando catches you before you can slide to the ground.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you.” His touch is infinitely gentle compared to the bruising hold of the stranger. He strokes your hair back from your face, eyes searching yours. “Can you hear me, love?”

You try to respond but only manage a faint whimper. Lando swears under his breath. Scooping you into his arms, he carries you swiftly from the alley. You press your face to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline as he strides toward the street. Each jostling step sends the world spinning again.

Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Lando lowers you onto a bench outside the club, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Talk to me, please. What’s happening?”

You lick your dry lips, forcing words out with monumental effort. “Dizzy … everything … blurry ...”

Lando’s face creases with worry. He pulls out his phone to dial for help, but pauses when you suddenly convulse, muscles seizing. Your back arches, head slamming against the hard bench.

“Shit! Hold on, I’ve got you.” Lando slides his hand under your head, cradling it gently as the seizure wracks your body. Tears stream down his face as he murmurs soothing words, helpless to do anything but wait it out.

After endless moments, the convulsions stop. You go limp, gasping raggedly. The world fades in and out of focus, Lando’s anguished face floating above you.

“Please, baby, stay with me,” he begs, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. “The ambulance will be here any second.”

You try to respond but darkness crowds the edges of your vision. The last thing you see before slipping into unconsciousness is Lando bent over you, shoulders shaking with sobs as he clutches your motionless hand.

***

Beeping.

Hushed voices.

The astringent scent of disinfectant.

You drift somewhere between waking and oblivion, grasping at fractured memories.

Lando’s face, streaked with tears.

Dancing bodies.

Pulsing lights.

The weight of unwanted hands, dragging you into the shadows.

With a sharp inhale, your eyes fly open. You’re in a hospital room, IV line taped to the back of your hand. Pale morning light filters through the blinds. The beeping comes from a monitor tracking your heartbeat.

“Hey.” Lando sits in a chair beside the bed, leaning forward when he sees you’re awake. His eyes are rimmed with red, hair disheveled. “How are you feeling?”

You try to speak but your throat is painfully dry. Lando grabs a cup of water, angling the straw so you can sip. The cool liquid soothes like a balm, washing away the cottony feeling in your mouth.

“What … what happened?” You rasp out finally.

Lando’s expression turns grim. “Someone drugged you at the club. Probably targeting an easy robbery, but ...” His jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. “If I had been even a few seconds later, he would have ...”

Unable to finish the thought, Lando buries his face in his hands. His shoulders tremble. Your heart aches, and you reach out to comb gentle fingers through his hair.

“But you weren’t,” you say softly. “You saved me.”

He looks up, eyes shining wetly. “I never should have let you out of my sight. If I lost you ...” His breath hitches, raw anguish written across his face.

“Hey, no.” You catch his hand, squeezing firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. You found me in time. That’s all that matters.”

Fresh tears spill down Lando’s cheeks. He brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a trembling kiss to your knuckles.

“I was so scared,” he chokes out. “Seeing you like that, helpless, shaking ...” He clenches his jaw, looking away. “And not being able to do anything. Just having to watch ...”

He breaks off with a shuddering breath. You tug gently on his hand, urging him up from the chair. He perches on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in his tender arms. You cling to each other, tears mingling as the enormity of what almost happened sinks in.

After long moments, Lando pulls back to cup your face in both hands. He searches your eyes, still flooded with relief and lingering fear.

“I could have lost you,” he repeats in a shattered whisper.

You cover his hands with your own. “But you didn’t. I’m right here. With you.”

His breath leaves him a rush, the frightened tension easing from his frame. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours. The beeping monitor and distant hospital noises fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this quiet intimacy.

When Lando finally lifts his head, the fire in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“I love you,” he says, low and fervent.

You meet Lando’s intense gaze, equally overcome by emotion.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

He cradles your face again, thumbs sweeping feather-light over your cheeks. Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath. It’s soft yet saturates you with his passion, fear, relief — every shade of the feelings coursing between you in this moment. You sink into it, hands coming up to twist in his rumpled shirt, keeping him close.

When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless. Lando smooths your hair, regret pinching his features.

“I should let you rest. The doctor said you’ll probably feel weak and foggy for a few days.”

You give a small shrug. “I don’t feel that bad right now. Just … stay with me?”

He smiles softly. “Of course, love.”

Settling next to you on top of the sheets, he loops an arm around your shoulders. You nestle against him, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. For a long moment, you simply savor being wrapped in this bubble of solace.

“Do they know who did it yet?” You finally ask, unable to quell your lingering unease about the attack.

Lando shakes his head. “The police looked at security footage but the guy’s face wasn’t visible. They’re still investigating.”

You nod, chewing your lip. Lando tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I won’t let him get away with this,” he says, quiet but fierce. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find him and make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

There’s cold fury underlying his tone that you’ve never heard from him before. It reminds you viscerally of that brief glimpse in the alley — Lando transformed in the heat of protective rage.

But now the fire in his eyes is fanned and smoldering. A determination that won’t relent.

He tightens his arm around you, pressing his lips to your hair. You settle against his chest again, comforted by the steady thump of his heartbeat.

***

A few days later, you’re curled up on the couch with Lando, a movie playing quietly in the background. You’re mostly zoning out, still feeling residual exhaustion. Lando plays idly with your hair, a comforting sensation.

When your phone buzzes with an alert, you grab it lazily, expecting a text from a friend. Instead, a news headline makes you bolt upright.

Lando notices your change in demeanor.

“What is it, love?”

“That man, the one from the club … he was found dead. I would recognize his face anywhere.”

You continue to scan the article. “Doesn’t specify much, just that he was found in an abandoned building across town. Ruled a homicide but no suspects or motive yet.”

You wordlessly tilt the phone screen for him to see. He looks at it blankly, face impassive.

“Oh. Well, perhaps some justice has been served after all.”

You narrow your eyes at his mild tone. “Did you ...”

“Did I what?”

“Have something to do with this?”

Lando presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Me? Now why would you think that?”

“Lando.” You level him with a knowing look. “Did you?”

He meets your gaze steadily for a moment before sighing. “I told you I’d make sure he never hurt anyone again. A man like that doesn’t deserve to keep stealing breaths.”

You absorb this, unsure how to feel. “So you ...”

“I didn’t personally do anything,” Lando hedges. “But I have … connections. People who know people who can handle things quietly.”

You bite your lip. “You had him killed.”

Lando takes your hands in his. “Hey. Look at me. That bastard drugged you, dragged you into an alley. He would have ...” His jaw flexes. “I did what needed to be done to keep you and others safe.”

“I just ...” You wrestle with your conflicted emotions. “I don’t know how I feel about you essentially ordering a hit.”

He drags a hand over his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is low and controlled. “All that matters is he can’t hurt you or anyone else now. Try to remember what he did to you — how you felt. Helpless. Frightened. I wasn’t about to let him continue terrorizing women.”

You take a shaky breath. “No, you’re right. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around.”

Lando caresses your cheek. “You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I know. But some people are simply too dangerous to be allowed to go on hurting people. I don’t take this lightly, but there are times when permanent solutions are necessary. Do you understand?”

Up close, you can see the storm of emotions he’s battling to contain. Anger, satisfaction, hints of doubt and guilt. You cup his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For protecting me, even if it meant ...”

Lando closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I would do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe.” His thumb strokes along your jaw. “You never have to worry. You’ll always be safe with me. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, no matter what.”

His voice rings with quiet conviction. You cover his hand with your own, meeting his solemn gaze. In this moment, you truly comprehend the depths he’s willing to go for you.

“I know you will,” you whisper. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Lando searches your face, shoulders losing their rigid tension when he finds only acceptance and gratitude shining back at him.

“I would be lost without you,” he murmurs.

You lean in, kissing him softly. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Drawing back, you offer a tiny smirk. “And clearly, I should never get on your bad side.”

Lando huffs a surprised laugh. The lingering shadows in his eyes fade as he pulls you close. You sink into his embrace, heartbeat steadying against his.

Whatever lengths Lando went to in order to protect you, to remove the threat hanging over your regained sense of safety, you know you’ll forever be thankful for this devoted, fierce, and tender-hearted man you love.

[ahqkas]

“HOLDING YOU, HOLDING ME — dick grayson.

PAIRING! dick grayson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! he wasn’t just a man in a mask—he was nightwing, gotham’s acrobatic vigilante, a name whispered in both fear and admiration depending on who you asked. and now here he was, slumped on your couch, bleeding out like any ordinary man who’d bitten off more than he could chew

WORD COUNT! 4.7k

WARNINGS / TAGS! wounds and patching up, mention of blood, light cursing + lmk

NOTES! i’ll never let go of this scenario bc no matter how many times i read or write it i know i’ll eat it up ,, header below belongs to @/v6que

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING OUTSIDE YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW PIERCED THROUGH THE FRAGILE BARRIER BETWEEN SLEEP AND WAKEFULNESS, pulling you abruptly from the fog of dreams. Your heart stuttered, then raced, its rhythm a drumbeat in your ears as your senses stirred to full alertness. The muffled sounds of Gotham’s unrest—honking car horns, distant sirens wailing through the streets, and the occasional shout ricocheting off brick walls—were nothing new. It was the soundtrack of the city, a reminder that safety here was a fleeting illusion. But this sound was different. It wasn’t part of the distant chaos. It was near. Uncomfortably near.

You lay motionless, cocooned in the warmth of your blankets, as a cold tendril of unease slithered down your spine. The shuffle came again, a strained, uneven drag that was too heavy, too deliberate to be dismissed as the wind or the misstep of a stray animal. The hairs on your arms stood on end, your body responding to a primal warning long before your mind could catch up. A knot of tension coiled in your stomach, tightening with each beat of silence that followed.

Your breath hitched as your ears strained, every creak of the old apartment building suddenly amplified. The sound of your neighbors moving around above you had ceased hours ago, and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen now felt deafening in comparison. Even the street noise below seemed to recede, swallowed by the weight of whatever lurked just beyond the thin pane of glass separating your room from the outside world.

Another shuffle—closer now—was accompanied by the faint scrape of something against the windowsill. A metallic sound? Your mind raced through possibilities, each one darker than the last, as your muscles tensed involuntarily. Instinct told you to stay still, to let the darkness cloak you, but adrenaline screamed at you to move, to act, to do something. The only thing louder than the pounding of your heart was the oppressive silence that followed the noise, stretching thin like a thread about to snap.

Then, a low groan shattered the quiet like a rock through glass—rough, ragged, and undeniably human. Your breath hitched, a shaky inhale catching in your throat as the sound sent a white-hot jolt of adrenaline through your veins. This wasn’t the screech of metal caught in a storm or the hollow clatter of a stray cat tipping over trash cans in the alley below. No, this was something else—someone else. And they were hurt.

Before you could fully process it, the groan was followed by another noise: a faint, rhythmic creak, unmistakable in its familiarity. Metal shifting and bending under weight, groaning as it protested movement along the fire escape just outside your window. It was a sound you had heard a hundred times before, but never like this—never in the dead of night, never accompanied by the guttural rasp of pain. It dragged a sharp, cold edge of dread across your mind, slicing through the thin veneer of safety you’d wrapped yourself in.

You sat up slowly, the mattress beneath you groaning in protest despite your careful movements. The noise seemed deafening in the oppressive quiet, and you froze, lips pressed together as if even the sound of your breathing might give you away.

Your eyes darted toward the window, the one barrier between you and the unknown outside. The curtains hung limply, a thin barrier of fabric that diffused the faint glow of streetlights below but revealed nothing of the shapes or movements beyond. Your pulse thundered in your ears as your mind raced. Every instinct screamed at you to stay still, to melt into the shadows and feign ignorance, to bury yourself under the covers and hope the moment passed.

But there was something else—a treacherous, gnawing pull of curiosity that refused to let you stay frozen. It dragged at you, a siren call that tugged against the fear coiled in your gut. Against all logic, you leaned forward, heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might leap from your chest. The cool air of the room kissed your skin, each shallow breath catching against the weight of the silence as you crept closer, unable to ignore the magnetic pull of whatever—or whoever—waited on the other side of that fragile pane of glass.

You froze just steps away from the curtain, your hand outstretched but trembling in the stillness of the room. Your fingers hovered mere inches from the fabric, the rough texture brushing your skin as you hesitated. The air felt heavier here, charged with the kind of tension that made your chest tighten and your breathing shallow. Each breath you took was deliberate, measured, the faint rush of air between your lips almost too loud against the suffocating quiet. Every nerve in your body begged you to turn back, to crawl under the covers and pretend none of this was happening.

But then another sound broke the stillness—a groan, sharper this time, tinged with desperation. It wasn’t the deep, detached groan of exhaustion but something raw, visceral, and undeniably human. The sound struck you like a slap, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. Whoever was out there wasn’t loitering or trying to scare you. They were hurt. And badly.

The realization sent a shiver rippling through you, but it didn’t stop your fingers from clutching the edge of the curtain. Slowly, cautiously, you pulled it back just enough to peek outside. The cold air from the window seeped through the thin glass, and you instinctively leaned closer, the warmth of your breath fogging the pane as you strained to see into the darkness. For a moment, there was nothing—only shadows twisting in the faint orange glow of the streetlights below, the occasional shimmer of metal catching the dim light. The fire escape stretched out before you like a skeletal bridge to nowhere, its emptiness pressing against your mounting fear.

Then, your eyes adjusted, and the shadows shifted, revealing a figure slumped against the railing. Your stomach twisted painfully at the sight, the breath caught in your throat as you tried to process what you were seeing. A man—larger than you expected, broad-shouldered despite the way his frame sagged—leaned heavily on the railing, his head tipped forward as if even the act of holding it up was too much. His chest rose and fell in uneven, labored breaths, each one visible in the faint puff of condensation against the night air.

His clothes—or was it some kind of suit?—clung to him, dark and soaked in places you didn’t want to think about too closely. The material melted into the blackness of the night, making it hard to tell where he ended and the shadows began. But there was no mistaking the weight of his posture, the way his hands gripped the railing with what little strength he had left, or the crimson stain trailing down the side of his body, catching the faintest glimmer of light. The sight of it turned your unease into something deeper, something colder.

“Shit,” you muttered, the word slipping out before you could stop it, sharp and quiet in the tense air. Your pulse quickened, adrenaline washing over you like a crashing wave as the reality of the situation sank in. Whoever this man was, he needed help—and fast. The knot of fear in your chest twisted tighter, but it was overwhelmed by something more immediate: the urge to act. Your hands trembled as you reached for the window, the cool glass biting against your fingertips as you slid it open. The icy air hit you instantly, sharp and unforgiving, stealing the warmth from your skin and making you gasp.

You leaned out into the night, the cold biting your cheeks and tangling in your hair as you peered down at the figure slumped against the railing. “Hey,” you called, your voice low but urgent, carrying just enough to cut through the silence. Your breath puffed out in faint clouds as you spoke, dissipating into the darkness between you. “Are you okay?” The words felt hollow as they left your mouth, even as they pressed against the lump of anxiety in your throat. Of course, he wasn’t okay—one look at him made that painfully obvious.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only response was the faint whistle of wind cutting through the metal of the fire escape. He didn’t move, his frame slouched in a way that made your chest tighten, the weight of his injuries pulling him down like gravity itself was working against him. Just as panic began to creep in—had he passed out? Was he even breathing?—he shifted, the motion slow and labored, as though even the act of turning his head was a monumental effort.

The faint light from the street below caught on his face—or rather, what was covering it. A mask. Sleek and dark, it reflected just enough light to reveal the harsh contours of his features, obscuring everything but the intensity of his movements. His head lolled slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might collapse entirely, the strength draining out of him like water slipping through a sieve. But then, with an audible effort, he rasped out, “Not really.”

The sound of his voice hit you like a gut punch—low, rough, and laced with pain. Each word dragged out of him felt like a struggle, and the exhaustion clinging to his tone was impossible to ignore. It was the voice of someone on the edge, hanging by a thread. You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you watched him shift again, the barest movement of his hand gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

“Well, no kidding,” you muttered, more out of reflex than anything, the dry sarcasm slipping past your lips before you could stop it. But the sharp edge of your tone faltered as your gaze darted to his injuries. Blood—thick, dark, and all too real—streaked his side, dripping in sluggish rivulets down his torn clothes. You swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic threatening to claw its way up your throat. “Can you�� uh, climb inside?” your voice was softer now, but still tinged with urgency.

He hesitated, his shoulders stiffening, and for a fleeting moment, he looked more like a cornered animal than an injured man. His hand gripped the railing tighter, the tension in his posture radiating defensiveness even as he swayed slightly, his balance precarious. “I don’t want to—” he began, his words rasping out low and hesitant, as if he were weighing the consequences of accepting help against the risks of staying put.

“You’re bleeding on my fire escape,” you interrupted, crossing your arms to disguise the nervous tremor in your hands. “I’m not asking. Get in here before someone sees you.” You tried to keep your voice steady, firm, even as your heart hammered against your ribs. You weren’t sure where the sudden boldness had come from—maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation—but you refused to back down. If he didn’t move soon, you weren’t sure he’d be able to at all.

For a split second, you thought he might argue, but then his lips twitched ever so slightly, a faint ghost of a smirk flickering across his face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the grim set of his jaw as he shifted, bracing himself. With a pained grunt, he pushed off the railing, his movements slow and deliberate, every step looking like it might be his last. His knees buckled slightly as he approached the window, and instinctively, you stepped closer, your arms uncrossing as you reached out without thinking.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. He was trying to sound strong, but the unsteadiness in his steps betrayed him. As he climbed through the window, the effort took its toll. He leaned heavily against the window frame, his large frame towering over yours even as his weight pressed into you for support. The sudden closeness made you freeze for a moment, the sheer size difference between you starkly apparent as his broad shoulders filled the small space of your window.

You adjusted quickly, hands instinctively reaching to steady him despite your earlier hesitation. One hand brushed against his arm, and you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt beneath your touch, even through the bloodied material of his suit. He shifted his weight against you slightly, just enough to steady himself, and the subtle press of his shoulder against yours was enough to make you acutely aware of how much he was relying on you in that moment.

“Easy,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as he finally made it through the window and into your apartment. You stepped back to give him space, resisting the urge to grab his arm again as he straightened with a wince. His movements were slow and deliberate, every motion screaming of pain, but he managed to stay on his feet. For now.

“Couch,” the word tumbled out before you could think too hard about what came next. You gestured toward the battered, threadbare piece of furniture across the room, its cushions sagging from years of use. It wasn’t much, but it was better than your window frame—or worse, the fire escape he’d just been bleeding all over.

He gave a faint nod, the motion sluggish as he shuffled forward, his hand bracing against the wall for balance. Each step looked like a battle he was barely winning, and just as he reached the couch, his knees seemed to give out entirely. He dropped onto it with a heavy exhale, the springs creaking loudly in protest. His head tipped back against the cushion, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your back still pressed against the window as your mind worked to catch up with what had just happened. The sharp contrast of his dark figure against the warm glow of your living room lights made the scene feel surreal, like something out of a movie. But the blood—thick and vividly red against the black fabric of his suit—was all too real.

And now, in the full light of the room, you could finally see him clearly. The sleek black material clinging to him wasn’t just any clothing—it was a suit, one that seemed designed to meld with the shadows. Faint blue lines traced down his sides in sharp, angular patterns, adding a faintly futuristic edge to his appearance. But it wasn’t the design that held your attention—it was the bird emblazoned across his chest, unmistakable in its shape even beneath the layers of grime and blood.

Nightwing.

The name hit you like a freight train, an unspoken expletive rushing to the tip of your tongue as you took another step forward. Nightwing is in my apartment. The realization made your knees feel unsteady, and you clutched the back of a nearby chair for balance. He wasn’t just a man in a mask—he was Nightwing, Gotham’s acrobatic vigilante, a name whispered in both fear and admiration depending on who you asked. And now here he was, slumped on your couch, bleeding out like any ordinary man who’d bitten off more than he could chew.

Your gaze dropped back to the gash across his chest, the jagged tear in his suit exposing the angry, raw wound beneath. Blood was soaking through the material, dark and relentless, and the sheer amount of it sent a chill racing down your spine. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe through the rising tide of panic. This was happening. This was real.

And if you didn’t act fast, he wasn’t going to make it.

“I’ll get some supplies,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of disbelief. Each step felt heavy, your heart pounding like a drum in your ears as you yanked open the cabinet under the sink. The first aid kit sat buried behind a clutter of forgotten toiletries, its edges dusty and worn, but it would have to do. You grabbed it along with a few clean towels, their soft cotton contrasting starkly with the chaos unfolding in your living room.

When you returned, your stomach twisted at the sight of him. He’d slumped further into the couch, his broad shoulders sagging into the cushions as if gravity were trying to pull him under. His head tipped back against the worn upholstery, exposing the pale curve of his neck. The steady rise and fall of his chest—though strained—was the only reassurance he was still alive.

“Don’t pass out,” you said, dropping to your knees beside him and setting the first aid kit on the coffee table with a clatter. The firm edge to your voice was betrayed by the slight tremor in your hands as you unfurled one of the towels. Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you forced your tone to remain steady. You couldn’t let him see the full weight of your panic—not when he already looked like he was barely holding himself together.

At your words, he cracked one eye open, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze despite the shadows of pain etched across his face. “Not planning to,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, each word dragging out like it cost him more than he could afford. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was enough to make you pause.

Who the hell manages to look smug while bleeding out on someone’s couch?

But the glimmer faded as quickly as it appeared, his body sagging further against the cushions. You pressed your lips together, swallowing the sarcastic retort building in your throat. There wasn’t time for quips or questions—only action. You unfolded a towel, your fingers brushing against the warm stickiness of his blood as you pressed it gently against the gash across his chest. The sharp hiss that escaped his lips was like a jolt of electricity, and you found yourself murmuring, “Sorry,” even as you kept the pressure firm. His skin was warm beneath the blood and fabric.

You worked quickly, your hands steady despite the rising tide of nerves gnawing at your insides. The fabric around the wound had been torn beyond recognition, and you didn’t waste a second as you cut through the ruined material with swift, practiced motions. Each snip of the scissors felt like a small victory, as though you could fix this, like the clean cut would somehow make everything better. You pressed a towel to his side, feeling the heat of his blood seep through the fabric, the warmth of it sending a chill up your spine. He winced at the pressure, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t pull away. His muscles, tense and coiled under your hands, were the only indication that this wasn’t just a minor scrape. His breath came out in shallow gasps, but he didn’t make a sound of protest.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who just broke into my apartment,” you said, your voice forced to sound lighter than it felt. The words were meant to cover the nerves crawling up your throat, to push away the uncertainty gnawing at you. Humor—it was the only defense you had left in this absurd situation.

He let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a wheeze. It was rough and ragged, like even that small act of amusement took everything he had left. “Didn’t break in. Fire escape’s fair game,” he managed to rasp out, his eyes fluttering closed again as though the effort of speaking had drained him further.

For a moment, you stopped, just long enough to take in his words. Fair game, huh? You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, despite the situation. So this is how he justifies sneaking into random apartments in the middle of the night.

“Right,” you muttered, your voice dry, trying to ignore the sick feeling twisting in your gut. You could feel the heat of his skin under your fingertips, the way his body trembled slightly despite his attempt to stay composed. You glanced at his face, the mask still in place, but now that you were up close, you could see the way his eyes flickered with exhaustion and pain. It was like something human was trying to push through all the bravado.

But you had to focus. The towel in your hand was already damp from his blood, and you pressed harder, trying to staunch the bleeding as much as possible. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my night going,” you muttered, though your tone softened a bit as you reached for the first aid kit. Every instinct in your body told you to move fast, but there was something about him, even in this state, that kept you grounded.

Maybe because I’m not sure whether you’re about to pass out or punch me in the face, you thought, but didn’t say. Instead, you reached for the antiseptic, uncapping it with more precision than you felt, and prepared yourself for whatever came next.

His lips twitched again, a ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was enough to make you wonder if he was trying to find some amusement in the chaos that had spilled into your living room. It didn't make sense—how someone could be this battered, this close to breaking, and still manage to show any semblance of humor. But there it was, a quiet resilience you couldn't quite place.

He didn’t respond at first, just watching you work. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, still tracked every movement of your hands, each shift of your body as you carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound on his side. There was something almost unnerving about how still he was, like a predator waiting for the right moment to move, but in the context of the situation, it made him seem more human. Vulnerable.

“You do this often?” you asked, your voice lighter than you felt. It was a simple enough question, but it served to break the silence between you, the quiet hum of the apartment making the space feel far too small. You didn’t look up at him immediately, but you could feel the weight of his gaze still on your face, intense and steady.

“Hmm?” he responded, the sound rough in his throat, as though the effort to form words had started to exhaust him.

“Get beaten to hell and crash on random fire escapes?” you pressed, glancing up at him as you secured the bandage around his chest. You tried to mask the faint bitterness in your tone with humor, the question rolling off your tongue more to distract yourself than anything else. This whole situation felt like something out of a bad dream, and you needed to ground yourself. Even if it meant making jokes about the absurdity of it all.

He let out a breath, his lips pressing together for a moment as he thought, the flicker of amusement still lingering in his eyes. “Only when I’m not at home,” he said softly, his voice rough, barely a whisper, but the sarcasm was clear. The way he said it—like he'd done this enough times to know exactly how it would go—made something twist uncomfortably in your chest. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation, and maybe it wouldn’t be the last.

You couldn’t help but huff out a soft laugh despite yourself, but it was more out of disbelief than humor. "That’s reassuring," you muttered, tightening the bandage with a firm pull. The night had turned stranger than you could’ve ever imagined, and all you could do was keep your hands steady as you finished the task, trying to ignore the fact that this was your reality now. For however long he was going to be here, this was your reality.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but wonder—what exactly had he been doing up there? Was it a routine mission gone wrong? Or was it something else, something far more dangerous than just a bad night on patrol?

But asking those questions, probing further, felt like it would unravel everything you were holding together. You were already way past the point of no return, anyway.

You leaned back on your heels, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The tension in your shoulders eased slightly as you wiped your hands on one of the towels, the fabric already stained with his blood. The light in your apartment, dim as it was, highlighted the mess of the night: the empty first aid kit, the scattered towels, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air. Everything felt heavier now—like the weight of what had happened wasn’t just about this bleeding stranger in front of you, but about you, too, suddenly pulled into something far more dangerous than you'd signed up for.

"You need stitches, but that’s the best I can do right now," you said, your voice softening as you turned back to him. "Try not to tear the bandages before you... I don’t know, get some actual medical attention?"

You were trying to stay light, trying to keep your tone steady, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pushed himself up with a grunt, the movement slow and stiff, his pain clear despite the faint determination in his eyes. He steadied himself against the arm of the couch, looking like he might collapse at any moment, but there was something else there too—something that made you stop, heart fluttering painfully in your chest.

He offered you a faint smile, the expression almost shy despite the rough edges of the night, his eyes meeting yours in that quiet, unexpected way that made the room feel too small.

"Thanks. Really," he said, his voice rasping, but genuine.

For a moment, all the noise of the world outside your apartment seemed to fall away. The sirens in the distance, the occasional sound of traffic, even the distant hum of the refrigerator—it all blurred into nothing as you just stood there, staring at him. His gaze was soft, more tender than you would’ve expected from someone who’d just crashed through your window with blood dripping from their body. It wasn’t that it was romantic, per se—at least, that wasn’t what you expected it to feel like. But there was something in the way he looked at you, something that made your heart skip a beat, something you couldn’t explain.

He didn’t move, didn’t look away, and for a long moment, neither did you. There was something raw in the quiet between you, as though both of you were momentarily suspended in this small, messy space. His smile was faint, but it was real—a fragile thing, born of pain and gratitude. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were, how the distance between you had narrowed while you weren’t paying attention.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm—just a gentle brush of your fingertips against his skin. You told yourself it was nothing, just checking if he was steady, but even as you pulled away, there was a spark. A quiet acknowledgment that this was different. The way his eyes followed the movement of your hand, the way he hesitated before his next breath, made the space between you feel charged, like something unspoken was hovering in the air.

"You're welcome," you whispered back, voice quieter than before, tinged with something you couldn’t quite define. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, an understanding, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you in that small, dimly lit room, suspended in time, with everything else forgotten.

And just like that, you both broke the moment—him leaning back into the couch with a soft grunt, and you turning your attention back to the bandages, your pulse still racing in your ears. But the quiet connection lingered, a soft hum under everything else.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting . thank you if you do 🤍

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙄𝙩 𝙐𝙥 𝙏𝙤 𝙔𝙤𝙪*

Pairing: Fox!Hybrid Seungmin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut (Tiny angst)

Warnings: Enemies -> Lovers, Mentions of blood, Seungmin beats up someone, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Slight hair pulling, Oral (F), Clawing back, Praise Kink if you squint. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

A/N: I’ve had this idea for awhile and it’s nice to finally get it out, there’s actual plot to this no way! lol.

Series Master List

-🐾

You hated that your friends were friends with him. He was a nuisance. Always annoying you always getting on your last nerve. He’d do anything to really push your buttons. You could chalk it up to him being a fox hybrid, however he goes out of his way to get under your skin.

“Why do we have to pick her up? Why’s she have to come?” Seungmin asked.

“Seungmin, would you shut up?” Jeongin said back rolling his eyes.

“I just don’t get why she has to come” he said sulking back into his seat.

“Because we’re friends? Can’t help you repel all of women kind” Jeongin said with a chuckle making Hyunjin laugh in the other seat.

“Whatever say virgin boy wonder” Seungmin scoffed back.

They came by to pick you up on their way back from the store. Today was Changbins birthday so they were throwing a huge party at their place. You really didn’t wanna go, not that you didn’t like parties but parties with hybrids were.. different. Always a fight, always people basically fucking. So- not to different just more teeth and claws.

You came out in sweats, holding a couple bags. You wanted to get stuff ready before you get all prettied up, plus hyunjin was always a great help with make up. When you got to the door Hyunjin got out to open it smiling at you “hey Hyune” you said with a smile back.

“Hey pretty lady, ready to get drunk tonight?” He said with a laugh.

“Oh totally, this week’s been rough gonna drink my cares away” you said slipping into the seat.

Seungmin was still sulking in the seat beside you, when you had gotten in you almost took him out with your bags. “Watch it” he said pushing them away making you laugh. He continued to sulk the way there as you all talked.

“Y/n, remember my rooms off limits, no hook ups in my bed” jeongin said with a laugh.

“Dude, shut up I’m just trying to get hammered and forget I’ll be around all the chaos” you said with a chuckle. “Anyways is that cute girl you like gonna be there? You reserving the bed for her?” You teased.

“He didn’t invite her” Hyunjin snickered.

“What? Why?” You said smacking him lightly.

“Because he’s a scardy cat” Hyunjin teased.

“Ha ha ha so funny” Jeongin rolled his eyes.

Hyunjin and you were both human, however Jeongin was a cat Hybrid and Changbin a bear hybrid. You don’t know how all the personalities mixed so well but it did. You’ve been friends with Jeongin and Hyunjin for a good many years now coming from the same town. Changbin joined the gang a few years ago. Seungmin being the newest to your group. Changbin always joked about how it was the misfit crew.

As you pulled in you grabbed your bags smacking Seungmin again with them. “What do you got in there? Rocks?” He hissed.

“If I knew you were coming it’d be a brick” you said with a scowl as you got out. You helped the others bring in the bags. They got so much booze and snacks it was unreal. “Who’s getting the cake?” Jeongin asked as they put the stuff down.

“Oh lix is bringing it, you should see what he made it looks awesome!” Hyunjin said with a smile.

You tried to grab the last case of beer from the car, but Seungmin had come beside you grabbing it first. “Wouldn’t want the princess to break a nail” he said before walking away with it. God did he infuriate you.

After getting everything set up Felix has arrived with the cake. He sculpted a big bear, even textured the fur, it looked so cool. Hyunjin and you had went back to his room to get ready. You slipped on a black dress, it hugged you so nicely. Showed off all the right assets. “Y/n you’re gonna get yourself mauled out there” he teased.

“I take it, it looks good?” You said sticking your tongue out.

“Definitely, dude it makes your ass look great” he said with a chuckle.

Hyunjin was always your hype man. He helped you with your make up and before you knew it people started to come. You could hear the music blaring and people chatting. “You nervous?” He asked.

“Always am at parties like this” you said finishing your eyeliner.

“We’ll be with yeah don’t worry” he said with a smile. “Although- I think you’re gonna have a lot of eyes on you. You look like a model” he said.

“Nah you’re just good at make up” you said getting up to check yourself in the mirror. You did look really good though, the shoes you were wearing made your legs look even better and he was definitely right about your ass.

When you both came out changbin immediately saw you smiling widely. “Y/n!” He said picking you up twirling you. “Dude you look hot” he said with a laugh.

“Thanks” you said laughing with him.

You made your way to where the others were sitting. Seungmins yellowish eyes met your figure, he choked on his drink when he saw you. He was awe struck. You waved at the others smiling, jeongin handing you your drink. You sat next to him and seungmin, the slight touch of your knee hitting him sent a shock straight up his back. God damn did you look gorgeous.

As time passed you started relaxing a bit, maybe it was the alcohol maybe it was just the mood. Seungmin couldn’t take his eyes off of you especially not when you got up with Hyunjin to dance. You weren’t far from the table. He watched as you moved, his eyes burning a hole into you. It was like you had him under a spell.

The night went on as you got a little more tipsy. Seungmins eyes never leaving your every movement. He was going crazy. He had enough, he got up going to the bathroom trying to get some clarity. While he was gone some hybrid came up behind you. Wrapping his arms around you.

“I can’t believe you’re all by yourself looking this good” the man said against your ear. It turned your stomach a bit. You were sobering up as the lights flashed.

“I’m not” you said.

“Well there’s no one with you right now, all alone. For someone to just snatch you up” he said gripping at your hips pulling you into him.

You didn’t know what to do honestly. You tried pushing him away but he just turned you around, making you face him. His eyes looked hungry. Like he had just pounced on his prey and was ready to devour it. “Don’t run pretty” he said before bringing his hand to the back of your head pulling you into a kiss. You tried pushing away but his grip on you was tight.

Changbin pulled the dude off of you with a single swoop he was detached. The other boys who were all doing their own thing not realizing what had been going on came over to help. “Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want you” Changbin growled towering over the man. He looked back at you and then back at Changbin. “Whatever dude” he said slinking his way back into the crowd. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around “y/n I’m sorry I thought Seungmin was over here” he said feeling bad for leaving you.

“It’s fine hyun-“ you said your breath shaking.

And almost in cue seungmin had returned from the bathroom. He was a bit confused what was going on “what’s up? Y/n get herself into trouble like always?” He joked.

Hyunjin glared at him turning back to you “I’d say you can come to my room but I uhm- have someone waiting” he said feeling a bit embarrassed.

“What happened?” Seungmin said again.

“Like you actually care” you snapped at him.

“Hey hey, everyone take a breather. Take y/n to the spare room?” Jeongin said.

You pulled yourself away from Hyunjin, you made your way to the room by yourself feeling irritated. However when you slunk into the bed you felt yourself crying. “God this is why I hate these parties” you said curling up in the bed.

The others informed Seungmin about what happened, his eyes widening at his comment he made earlier. However the guilt he felt about it was quickly replaced with anger. He found the dude at the other side of the room. He overheard him talking to another dude saying ‘yeah, she was a hottie, definitely gonna find where she went.’ He continued with ‘she a human, whether she wants it or not I’ll find her’

That was it. Seungmins eyes blew out, he slammed the dude against the wall. He wasted no time pounding on the guy. Claws ripping flesh, teeth biting at anything it could. Although seungmin was smaller than the guy he was agile. “You fucking mutt! I ever fucking catch you near her I’ll fucking end you!” He snarled.

The dude was a mess, face slashed, bite marks at his throat. Everything happened so fast, changbin rushing over throwing seungmin over his shoulder. “That’s enough!” He said. “You get the fuck out of here” he said looking back at the bloodied mess of a man.

Jeongin had came back to bring you some water and check on you. “You alright?” He said softly.

“Fine” you said not turning to look at him.

“Wanna hear something that’ll make you even better?” He said. When you didn’t respond he kept talking “Seungmin beat the shit out of the dude” he said with a chuckle

“What?” You said turning quickly.

“Yeah, dude beat the him good too.” He said getting up. “Drink some water alright?” He said before leaving.

Why would he do that? Why go out of his way to pick a fight with someone bigger? Especially when the relationship you had together was more of a hate filled one.

Seungmin came slinking his way back just a moments later. He didn’t say anything. He locked the door behind him shaking his head that you had it unlocked. He slunk his way beside you wrapping his arms around you. “What, the girl leave?” You said teasingly thinking it was hyunjin. When you turned meeting seungmin eyes you froze. He didn’t meet your eyes letting you turn back around before speaking. “You alright?” He asked.

“Fine” you said softly. “I uh- hear you beat the guy up” you said even softer.

“They can never keep their mouths shut can they?” He sighed. “Yeah well I did, no one should be putting their hands on you” he said.

You could feel the heat coming off of him, his body nestled so close to you. “Thank you” is all you could reply. He hummed in response pulling you to him. “Y/n” he said softly. His breath against your neck making you shutter.

“Hmm?” You hummed.

“You really look pretty” he said his words coming out like honey.

You didn’t know how to respond, your mind going a bit fuzzy. He leaned in more resting his head on your shoulder. His mind was going a mile a minute his foxxy ears twitching at every sound of your breath. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone” he said. “Let me make it up to you?” He said before kissing your neck softly. You let out a soft sigh feeling his soft lips against your skin. “H-how are you gonna do- do that?” You stuttered out.

“Well first” he said his hand wondering down to your thigh. “I’ll make you cum on my tongue” he said licking up your neck. “And then I’ll make you cum on my cock. Do you want that pretty?” He asked hand staying still on you.

As much as you wanted to say no how could you? You’d be lying if you didn’t think seungmin was attractive. That burnt orange hair of his so perfectly kept, those piercing matching eyes. He was handsome annoying but handsome. You nodded.

He gently brought your dress up, pulling your panties down enough to play with your folds. He left soft kisses to your neck as he works his fingers on you before pulling away. He turned you to your back before quickly moving down to your core. You watched with glazed eyes as he took your panties off throwing them somewhere. He kissed your thigh keeping his eyes on you. When his lips finally met your core your body shook. He was slow at first taking his time, sucking at your clit, licking up your folds.

When your taste was all over his tongue he couldn’t help himself. He quickly brought his fingers up to your core fucking them into you. His ears moved hearing the sweet sounds you were making. His cock rock hard in his pants. He groaned as you arched your back moving your hips against his tongue. His other hand kept your thigh to the side nails digging into it. He was devouring you. He needed to taste you, all of you, there was no wasting a single drop of your delicious nectar.

He felt your walls clenching around him making him chuckle a bit. “Cum for me pretty fuck- cum on my tongue”

Your hands gripped his hair tugging on it harshly as you came hard around his fingers. He’d be lying if you pulling his hair didn’t turn him on even more. The moans you let out- he needed you. Fuck did he ever need you. Before you could even come down from your high he was stripping himself of his close, he spit in his hand pumping his cock before pushing fully into you. The stretch wasn’t painful, it felt more heavenly than you could imagine.

You felt him so deep inside you, his tail wrapped around your leg as some sort of way to ground himself. But there was not grounding, not when you were sucking him in so well. Your walls so warm taking everything he had to give. He moved erratically. Eyes locked on yours as he pounded into you. “Seungmin!” You almost screamed hands flying to his back digging your nails into the soft flesh.

“Fuck- d- don’t say my name like that- your- your gonna make me cum to early” he almost whimpered but you couldn’t help it. He was fucking you so well, so fucking deep. His cock head kissed your cervix ever so nicely, it was almost like you were made for him.

“Can’t- can’t help it- feels to good” and oh god did it ever. However the way his cock twitched inside you at your praise made you go crazy. “S’good Minnie- fuck you feel so good!” You said nails digging hard into his back.

He was seeing stars, he was so close already. The little nickname making him whisper out. You were driving him wild, he couldn’t stop himself. His pace picked up, hip smacking against you roughly. “F- feel good? Gonna- gonna cum on my cock?” He slurred out. You moaned in response legs wrapping around his waist as if he was gonna leave. Your walls were clenching around him, he felt like he was gonna die.

“Minnie! I’m- fuck I’m so close!” You said pulling his body close to you. He brought his hand down to play with your clit before finally crashing those pillowy lips to yours. It was a hungry kiss, tongues tangling with each other. Devouring each other’s moans.

You pulled away slightly “Cumming! Fuck- Minnie!” You silently screamed body shaking as your second orgasm washed over you somehow more intense than the first one.

“W-where?” He stuttered out.

“In- fuck please inside!” You said legs clenching tightly around him.

With that he was gone. A few more harsh thrusts before he came deep inside you. Painting your walls a nice white. He rolled to your side, pulling you close making sure not to pull out. He couldn’t, he needed to stay buried deep in you. A few minutes had passed of catching breathes. “Just so you know you’re still annoying” you said trying to break the ice.

He chuckled “yeah? Good. How about I be your annoying boyfriend at least?” He said slyly. Your heart almost stopped.

“Wait- really?” You asked meeting his smiley eyes.

“If you want that is- I’ll make sure know one ever comes near you again.” He said.

“The guys are gonna have a field day with this” you said with a chuckle.

“Yeah well, whatever. So is that a yes?” He asked.

“Yes, Minnie. But you gotta take me on a date. And no murdering anyone” you teased.

“I can’t promise that but I’ll definitely plan something” he said eagerly his ears standing up in excitement.

And oh boy did the boys rag on him for a whole week straight only being shut up when he started talking about fucking you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

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

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[donatellawritings]

Rich to me is always the friends to lovers (everybody sees it but you two) it’s him yelling “behind” at everyone but sliding behind you with a hand on your hip “behind sweetheart” it’s you walking into the group of boys smoking outside & u bypass everyone to grab a smoke straight from his lips “thanks babe” it’s family having no empty chairs at the table so you sit on his lap while Syd & carm just stare. I think you’d bring my wish to life beautifully written. I need all the build up to the smut

can i just say that richie is definitely the type to be a jagoff to everyone, but never to you - everyone else knew how to work his last nerve, but you and your cutesy smile and bright eyes would make him all warm and fuzzy for sure

explicit sexual content ahead

it was no secret to anyone who worked at the restaurant (or had eyes) that you and richie had a ‘special’ kind of relationship. for starters, it wasn’t common for a hotheaded man, like richie jerimovich, to be so touchy and lovey-dovey with anyone. i mean, not even his ex-wife got to see that side of him often, and they shared a child. however there was something about you that just made richie feel as though he needed to be around you, protect you, handle you tenderly.

maybe it was because you were younger than him - fuck if he knew, all richie knew in his heart of hearts was that he had it bad for you.

things between you two started off gradually, “gotta get past you, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, the warm and calloused palm of his hand gently cradling the small of your lower back as he made his way past you, his tall frame easily reaching over you to grab ahold of a pot from the top cabinet.

you’d simply nod wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained forward in an effort to conceal the blush that rose to your cheeks.

after weeks of comfortability that increased between the two of you, you decided you’d test the waters. you’d watched carefully as he made his way out of the back door that led behind the building of the beef. quickly scanning over the not-so-busy environment of the restaurant, you walked away from the cash register, towards the back exit of the beef.

“i’ll be back in ten!” you called out, earning a mumble of approval from carmy and sydney who were entirely too engrossed in a conversation about expanding the menu.

the moment you’d exited the restaurant, the unforgiving cold winter chicago air bit at you, causing you to hiss as you quickly folded your arms tightly over your chest, your fitted ‘the beef’ t-shirt lifting a bit as you turned to find richie leaned against the brick wall.

he was so rugged and laid back, it drove you insane. his hoodie remained open, revealing the matching t-shirt that clung to his slim abdomen, one of his hands shoved in the pocket of his adidas track pants, while the other held a cigarette to his lips. richie didn’t notice your presence yet, too involved in a conversation with sweeps and marcus.

you’d decided it would be the perfect time to push the envelope, walking directly past marcus and sweeps as you approached richie, a flutter now swirling in your stomach as he raised his eyebrows at you, cigarette loosely held between his sharp teeth.

you two held eye contact for a beat, before you gently grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, before raising it to sit sit between the swell of your lips, taking a quick pull from the cigarette, “thanks babe,” you exhaled with a sweet close-mouthed smile.

all richie could do was swallow thickly, nodding to himself before he returned his attention back to the conversation at hand, softly swatting the side of your thigh when he decided that it was time for you to return the cigarette.

it was then, that things started to reach a whole new level of touchiness and couple-like actions between you and richie.

today was family. your second-most favorite day of the week, aside from payday. you were a bit late to the function, courtesy of your hair appointment, walking into the main room of the restaurant, instantly being greeted with a chorus of differing ‘hello’s’.

“hi, m’sorry for being late, my hair girl was late!” you rushed to explain, shrugging off richie’s your zip-up hoodie as you glanced around the room, seeing that all seats were occupied, “oh.”

sydney’s eyes widened as she shared the same realization, “fuck, uh, maybe we can get you an extra seat from the office, i-” she began, taking a bit too long, leaving richie no choice, but to come up with a solution of his own.

“s’nothing syd, she can sit with me,” richie spoke with a careless shrug, his mouth full of pasta as he looked up at you, swallowing his food before continuing, “c’mon, sweetheart.”

you obliged, your lips suddenly running dry as you walked towards richie’s seat, softly grabbing his outstretched hand as he gently guided your hips to sit comfortably against his.

you slightly shifted your hips, sending a shock to your clit as his bulge deliciously sat flush against your ass, “thanks, richie,” you muttered, focusing your gaze on the pasta dish that sat before you.

richie leaned back into his seat, the suddenly awkward silence of the dining room now becoming a bit too apparent to him. shaking his head, richie kept one of his arms loosely hung around you, before clearing his throat.

“yo, i don’t know why the fuck everyone is being fuckin’ quiet,” he huffed, his eyes now landing on carmy and sydney, before he sighed, “cousin, just say what the fuck you’re grateful for already!”

it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their normal conversations, about twenty minutes passing, before richie decided to lean in close to you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“m’ready to get the fuck outta here.”

and that’s how you ended up in the driver’s seat of richie’s car, his seat fully reclined back, one hand gripping the back of your neck, while the other guided your hips to bounce hard against his.

“ah, fuck - y’gonna make me cum in you if you keep fuckin’ me like that, sweetheart,” richie groaned, moving the hand that guided your hips to your back, pushing you further into his chest as he fucked up into you.

your face was in his neck, throaty moans and gasps leaving your lips as you sloppily kissed and sucked at the skin of his neck, the sound of your hips slapping into each other mixed with the squelch and slurp of your wet pussy taking his length leaving you a needy mess.

you were so close to reaching your peak, your pulsing hole clenching around richie’s dick as his thrust remained forceful and rough, “i can fuckin’ feel you around me, baby, y’want me to make you cum, yeah,” he chuckled, leaning his head against the headrest as he brought his hand to your hip, grinding your hips flush against his in circular motions.

“fuck, richie,” was all you could mewl through your gritted teeth, your stomach tight as your clit rubbed against the wet skin of his pelvis.

“keep ridin’ me, sweetheart,” he whispered, pecking your flexed temple as he forced your hips deeps against his, “just keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.”

yeah, your relationship with your coworker was far from orthodox, but neither of you seemed to get enough of it. nor, did you want to.

[dreaisgrayte]

Camp Maple | Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, kissing, friends to grudge to friends to sassy to lovers? childhood trauma, masturbation (fem and male), tad bit of angst, unprotected sex, cream pie, more to come? Honestly the ending could do with a rewrite but I'm too lazy for that right now.

word count: 17.5k

a/n: writers block sucks so I'm sorry if the end is trash. I wanted to get this out before school started up again. Unedited.

It’s fucking summer again. That meant working for your mother’s sleepaway camp. Maple Woods was a fun enough place to work when your mother wasn’t visiting, but if you had to work with that asshole again you highly doubt this would be the best summer ever that your mother promised you. At least last year he wasn’t scheduled to be a leader with you.

The main office is where you would grab your schedule and overall camp theme for this summer. It’s also where you could check what group you were head of. Luckily, the office building was right off the parking lot. The mess hall was a few yards down a worn rock pathway from the old brick building you were heading into. 

The yellow screen door swings open with a screech, and you’re met with the steady whir of box fans pointed at the one lady you enjoyed seeing every year. Her straight blonde hair flutters in the heavy breeze as she looks up from her monitor. Once her caramel brown eyes settle on you, a sugary sweet smile overtakes her features. “YN!” She exclaims, standing from behind the counter. “I’m so glad you decided to come back, sweetie.” She extends her arms, walking out toward you. This is your aunt, Yena. She practically helped raise you when your mother would drop you off. Your childhood home was a 10 minute drive away, and where you lived now was around 15 minutes, depending on how long you procrastinated in traffic in an attempt to prolong accidentally running into your mother. Yena made sure your group of friends had snacks and unlimited access to her office. She was there when you had your first period. In other words, Yena was like a mother to you, at least more than your actual biological one. 

You embrace each other, and the overwhelming smell of cinnamon hits your nose like a tidal wave. It was like home in a hug. “Like I had a choice.” You mumble but laugh with her after a beat. This felt nice, but you needed to settle in before the rest of the counselors flooded in and started the pre-camp party. “Ah, do you happen to know which cabin group I’ll be in charge of?” You inquire, holding her back from you. 

Her brows crease with thought, and then she looks excited, holding up a finger to tap your nose. “Ah my little honeysuckle, you are co-leading the caterpillars.” She hums in delight. You tilt your head. Co-leading? 

“Co-leading? With whom?” Your chest feels heavy. Last year, your co-leader was a slacker, leaving you with all the work and little time for yourself. Your group of kids were absolute sweethearts, so you didn’t mind too much. Still, the experience had put a bad taste in your mouth. Yena’s back to concentrating on your question, but this time, she shakes her head with a slight frown. 

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t remember. Though, I do remember thinking that you two are sure to make a good pair!” She clasps your hands excitedly at the latter part of her sentence. You force yourself to smile through the anxiety. 

“Heh, yeah.” In translation, you were screaming internally. “I’ll go figure it out.” The only thing you could do was head to your cabin and hope to bump into your co-lead. Maple Woods usually had 2 young adults co-lead a group of kids to keep things safe. The co-leads shared the head cabin, no matter what. It was the first cabin in a ring of 4 other ones. The campers were divided by age – that’s where the different sections came from – then put into co-ed cabins. One cabin could fit about 8 comfortably, depending on how many kids signed up. The caterpillars are the 2nd and 3rd grader sections. The co-leader cabin was bigger, but that’s only because of the shared bathroom and small kitchen area. 

The air smells fresh, and you get lost in memories for a moment. There was the main hall where the welcoming ceremony would be held, and a cement path through a small patch of trees off to the side led to the different sections of cabins. On the other side of the path, surrounded by a small patch of trees, was the mess hall where meals and activities would be held. The older kids had cabins further into the woods while your section of cabins was situated right by the lake. Down the middle, past the mess hall and cabins, was the maple woods lake. The sunlight is glittering off the ripples already. Peace. That’s what the lake reminded you of. Up a trail on the north side, there was even a secluded waterfall, but the kids didn’t get to know about that part. 

You walk down the cracked cement walkway, puttering around with a rock as you go. The green doors are easy enough to spot against the orangey light wood of the cabins. You were lucky. You got the cabins right by the lakefront. You hike up the stairs, noting a suitcase outside the left door. Okay, so someone was here. That was a good sign. Walking through the right door it hits you that you didn’t grab any of your bags from the car. You stop in the middle of the room, groaning loudly. “Shit.” You curse, turning on your heel. It takes about 10 minutes for you to clamber back into the room this time with your bags haphazardly strapped across your body. They slip off your body with no regard for your hair or your skin. 

The room is simple, a bed in the corner, a closet, a desk, and a nightstand with a cute lamp on it. To the left are two doors, one leads to the kitchenette area – the other leads to the Jack and Jill bathroom, in which you can hear rushing water. Your co-leader must be taking a preemptive shower. You give an approving nod, wishing you could take a shower yourself. Instead, you decide to wander through the far door and into the kitchenette area. There’s a round table with a chair on either side of it pushed under a window. A small amount of counter space – treated pine countertops – decked out with a stove, sink, and a few cabinets. A fridge acted as the counter stopper, which was right next to your room – hmm, useful. Across from the kitchen area was a single sofa with a TV mounted on the wall. You always loved the counselors’ cabins because they were full of useful amenities. 

You pull out a chair, sitting down at the table to peer out the window at Lake Maple. You hear a door open and turn your attention toward the sound with a cheerful smile. You had the full intention of greeting your co-leader. Instead, you’re met with the bare chest of a silver-haired and lilac-eyed asshole. A simple cotton towel is wrapped around his waist, water droplets still lazily pathing their way down his sinewy chest and past the line of the before-mentioned towel. Your brows knit together, and he does the same. “Sanemi,” you grumble, forcing a smile upon your lips. “Please tell me you’re a figment of my imagination.” This cannot be happening. Sanemi Shinazugawa can not be your co-leader. 

When you met him for the first time both of you had bonded over having a shit parent. His father was abusive, scarring his son emotionally and physically. Despite the jagged pink scar that travels over the bridge of his nose and three crossing over each other on his forehead, Sanemi was excessively attractive. He wore his scars as a badge of what he’d overcome, but you knew there was underlying disgust that was hidden away.

He rolls his eyes, frustratedly peering to the corner of the room. “Believe me darlin’ I’m just as annoyed by this as you are.” Heat floods your cheeks at his casual way of speaking. You cross your arms over your chest, standing up from your chair with dramatic grandeur. 

His eyes follow your actions, concentrating on the way you nearly stumble to the side. He quirks a smile and this only fuels your annoyance, which was amusing in its own right. “There has to be a way we can switch out,” You throw your hands up, exasperated. Sanemi shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips. 

He then jerks his head toward the general direction of the main office. “Already checked with Yena, they don’t trust anyone else but you’n me to run the caterpillar crew.” He explains, disdain practically dripping from his voice. You groan toward the ceiling. 

Of course, your mother would pull some shit like this. Making you work with the one person that could make you falter at your job. Was this a test? It was sure as hell annoying especially with Sanemi standing half-naked in front of you. “For fuck’s sake can you please go put on a shirt or something?” You pinch the bridge of your nose squeezing your eyes shut. 

Your words only earn a dark chuckle from the man across from you. “Why? I thought I could wear this to the bonfire.” He shoots back smugly. 

A long sigh blows past your lips as you decide not to honor him with a response. Instead, you head back into your room and slam the door. You fuss around with your hair, unpacking while you search for an outfit. Sanemi was so aggravating. With that smug look on his face and- you throw your hands down in frustration, frowning into the handheld mirror you propped against the wall. Sun earrings dangle from your ears, a simple gold chain around your throat, and mascara lifts your lashes. You put on high-waisted jean shorts and a pink bleach-washed tye-dye tank. Tennis shoes and white socks wrap it together. 

Your heart hammers an overwhelming rhythm as you blow out a breath. Sanemi Shinazugawa was sleeping in the same cabin as you, sharing food, time, and a bathroom. You had to get over this stupid grudge against him. It wasn’t healthy to latch onto something so silly for such a long time, but back then it hurt like hell. For the children, you had to put your past behind you. Maybe if you got drunk enough tonight you could talk to him about it, but those odds were very unlikely.  

There were a few people you wanted to chat with at the bonfire, have a few drinks, and then you’d be nicely tucked into bed ready for campers to start arriving tomorrow. Simple as that. A grin makes its way onto your face as you slip out of your cabin, but it quickly drops when you notice Sanemi leaning against the deck railing. You try not to sigh too loud, but he must hear it because he quirks a brow in your direction. “Why are you creepily waiting outside my door?” You inquire, gesturing to him. He huffs out a breath, stepping out of his leaning position. 

He’s wearing a black hoodie with shorts. You’re mildly upset by how good he looks in darker clothes. It contrasts his hair in such a way that captivates you. You shake those thoughts out of your head as he trots down the stairs, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I can’t very well leave you to walk to the spot by yourself.” He nods in the direction of the dark path that winds through the woods and up the rocky ledges. 

You raise your brows, joining him on the ground. “You think I can’t handle a little spooky path on my own?” You scoff. Sanemi rolls his eyes and the action pricks your skin. 

He starts walking toward the path’s entrance and when you don’t follow he gives you a pointed look. “Shall I remind you of when we were seven?” 

“Sanemi hold my hand! I’m scared!” You whine, grasping his hands when he doesn’t make a move. “Promise me you won’t leave my side!” 

You whinge, shuddering at the memory, but jog to catch up with him anyway. He turns his head to watch the path become progressively darker, a few lamps hung on trees here and there. A grin finds its way onto his lips at the way you walk closer to him every time you hear a noise. “For a girl who grew up out here, you sure are jumpy. If you get too scared you can always hold my hand again.” He blurts, not meaning to tease you, but when your reaction is flushed cheeks and a high-pitched squeak, he can’t help himself. 

Eventually, the flickering light of a campfire and the sound of laughter distracts you from the man walking next to you. You rush ahead, excitedly finding your way to Shinobu and Mitsuri, two of your closest friends. The only people invited to this bonfire were the kids who grew up coming to this camp and eventually became counselors or otherwise affiliated. 

Gyomei Himejima; the stern, yet emotional one that usually dealt with the older kids. He claims the young ones are too selfish and he’s unable to keep them in check. He’s the oldest one here but still has such a soft spirit despite not having any family to go home to. Gyomei honestly loves the summer gig, but always chats about his pet cat that he can’t wait to get back to. You guess that was his family to get back to. 

Tengen Uzui; Mister Casanova with the other counselors, but he’s rumored to be otherwise attached. Which was fine by you, Tengen was all talk, no action. Besides you didn’t want any action from him – his fan club would hunt you down and no matter how many defense classes you took, you would not be able to stop them.

Giyu Tomioka; the quiet one. He was great at his job but not the best at talking with the other counselors. He usually sat and listened to all of you talk on, interjecting a few times with his opinion. He was a genuine and good guy, you enjoyed talking to him one-on-one.

Kyojuro Rengoku; no one else could handle the little rascals than him. He worked with the younger children since he was as kind-hearted as they come. It takes a special type of person to do his job and no one could do it better than him, except maybe Mitsuri.

Mitsuri Kanroji; also works with the nursery and younger kids. She was a nurturer at heart, caring for the young ones was her specialty. You kept in contact with her and Shinobu the most outside of camp. 

Shinobu Kocho; was the head of the infirmary, in case a child got a pretty bad scrape or needed medication. She may appear stern, but she was actually a big softy when it came to caring for the injured.

Obanai Iguro; head of the kitchen and helps lead exploration hikes. Obanai didn’t talk much either, he had that mysterious bad-boy thing going for him – which unfortunately Mitsuri fawns over. He was also Sanemi’s best friend. 

The bonfire was an annual party held the day before camp starts. There was a rocky clearing at the top of the waterfall that fed into the lake. This spot had a perfect view of Camp Maple, overlooking the soft glowing lights and some people rushing around for last-minute chores. Memories intertwined themselves with the breeze rushing through the trees surrounding the group. It was like a second home up here or maybe more of an escape. Either way, the light feeling growing in your chest was a welcomed change from knowing you’d have to work with Sanemi. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to happen to you. It still felt like a firecracker ready to explode in your face at any moment. There was bound to be trouble with this arrangement.

You glance at him, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the fire. He’s grinning as he chats with Obanai, bringing a can of beer to his lips. You watch as his throat bobs, a dribble of liquid pooling at the corner of his mouth and eventually trickling down his neck. Before you can look away his eyes catch yours, a smirk lifting his lips as he pulls the can away. He raises his brows and your back straightens, your gaze quickly darting away. 

“Hey YN, have another drink.” Shinobu nudges you, passing you a bottle of liquor. You grin as you take it from her. 

The cool glass feels great against your mouth as you take a swig. The liquor burns a little as it slides down your throat, but it has a nice fruity taste to it. “Thanks,” You raise your glass to clink against hers. 

Mitsuri is on your other side, nervously wondering if she should talk to Obanai. “YN, would it be…weird for me to interject in their conversation?” She whispers in your ear, motioning discreetly to Obanai and Sanemi. You let out a soft sigh before chugging the rest of your drink. Your body fizzes with the warm gooey feeling of alochol. Mitsuri watches you with wide eyes, they sparkle in amazement. “Woah, that was really cool!” She exclaims. You huff out a laugh, extending your hand for Shinobu to hand you another. She does as you request and you pop open the cap with your teeth, letting the contents of the bottle slip into your mouth. Mitsuri claps excitedly, gaining the attention of the guys next to her. 

Sanemi stares at you, his brows knitting together slowly as he watches you swig one more bottle. You stand, swaying slightly as you turn to Sanemi. His gaze is trained on you, standing up as you stumble toward him. You crash into his arms, a dumb grin lining your lips. The group now looks on at the spectacle. “Nemi~” You coo, swinging your arms over his neck. Sanemi’s throat bobs, wrapping his muscular arm around your back to stabilize you. 

He laughs nervously, smiling with gritted teeth toward the rest of the group. “I’m going to take her back down,” He begins, pressing you tighter into his grip. You’re frustrated with how good his body feels against yours and when your shirt rides up a bit his skin feels like fire. Everyone seems in agreement, but you twist in his arms to shoot Mitsuri a thumbs up and a wink. Her face erupts in a red flurry and your goofy smile turns back to meet Sanemi’s gaze. 

You giggle at his stern expression. “Boop!” You squeak, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. His brows raise slowly as he takes in your slumping condition. 

Sanemi turns around, squatting down on his haunches. “Get on.” He motions with his head for you to climb onto his back. You hum excitedly, slinging your arms over his neck. Your legs wobble as you try to position yourself over his back. He sighs, reaching behind him to swipe your calves out from under you. You squeal as he repositions you, sliding his warm big hands under your thighs. “Hold on tight darlin’.” He instructs and you listen well by pressing into his back, nuzzling your chin onto his shoulder. “Well, have a good night everyone.” He tries his best to wave, the group saying their goodbyes. 

The view from his back is enjoyable as he hikes down the trail. “You’re so strong,” You mumble, spanning your hands down his chest absentmindedly. Sanemi pauses, his muscles constricting as you touch him. 

He shoots a look over his shoulder as you grope him. “Yeah, I work out, now please stop harassing me.” He jumps you further up his back to keep you from slipping off. You giggle at the jostling motion. 

Despite his earlier complaint, he lets your hands roam over what parts of his body you can reach. There's a comfortable silence that falls over you both but as you peer into the woods a memory you’d rather not think about seeps into your mind. “Sanemi,” You start, trying to swallow the way your heart is beating – hopefully, he couldn’t feel it against his back. “I’m sorry I was so angry at you.” The apology comes out of nowhere, but Sanemi knows what you’re talking about. 

He stops in his tracks, shutting his eyes for a beat. “Don’t apologize for what you have every right to feel.” He takes in a deep breath, you can feel his body rise with the motion. “I didn’t think your mother would do that, I-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat before continuing. “I was just worried about you. I was too scared to find you so I went to your mother.” 

Your brows scrunch and you feel your chest tighten at his words. You tap his back. “I want down.” He silently helps you slide down his back. He still holds onto you, making sure you can stand on your own. You glare into his soft expression, bottom lip trembling. “You should’ve found me,” Your nose stings with the pressure of tears welling in your eyes. He watches you with a solemn frown. “You should’ve come to me!” Your voice raises, a tear falling down your cheek. You hit his chest, letting out a choked sob. “You knew Sanemi, you knew she’d be angry.” Your fist drops from his chest, coming up to cover your soaked face. “I hoped beyond everything that you would appear over the hill, not her.” You throw your hands down, shaking your head. He just stands there, letting you drunkenly yell and cry like an idiot in front of him. Letting you hit him, throw your words at him, and relive a past you’d rather forget. 

He takes a step forward, yearning to reach out for you. “YN…” His voice is soft and comforting – you hate the fact you want to fall into his arms again. Have him carry you to safety like he should’ve done all those years ago. 

You step away from him, raising your hands in front of your face. “No, no, I need time.” Your voice trembles and as you leave Sanemi standing there in the dark you cry all the way back to your bed.

❦❦❦❦❦

“Welcome to Camp Maple Woods!” Your mother clasps her hands together excitedly. You groan from your position against the back wall with the rest of the counselors. She continues with the opening speech, her grating voice making your hangover that much worse. Mitsuri bumps shoulders with you, an all too happy smile on her face. 

You wish for just a second that you could have her resilience, but being perfect sounds like too much work. “Hey!” She whispers loudly to you. You peer around you, acting like she was talking to someone else. Mitsuri isn’t pleased with your antics because she crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a pointed look. You immediately halt and motion for her to continue. “Obanai and I texted all night.” Her stern expression lifts into a grin as her cheeks light up with a rosy color. 

You’re about to celebrate with her when Sanemi walks through the back doors. The happiness you share with Mitsuri washes away. You swallow hard, eyeing him as he leans against the wall next to Obanai. Unfortunately for you, Mitsuri is very observant. She glances between you and Sanemi, narrowing her eyes. “Now campers are you ready to go on your tours!?” Your attention is drawn to the front where your mother claps her hands together. For a brief moment, she meets your gaze and your blood boils. “May all our wonderful counselors head up to the stage!? We’ll be getting into our sections now!”

You put on your best smile, following Mitsuri to the stairs. Sanemi jogs up behind you and the resolve you’d built up this morning before heading to the main hall nearly crumbles to the ground. You had done your best to wake up early, hate your life as little as possible, shower, get ready, and escape the cabin before bumping into him. His presence behind you is an annoying warmth you want to swat away. Mitsuri joins Kyojuro and you awkwardly stand next to Sanemi with a strained smile. 

His shoulder brushes against yours and your breath hitches quietly. Your mother appears in front of you both, a blank expression on her features as she holds out a caterpillar sign to you. Your throat tightens, but Sanemi swipes it from her before she can shove it in your hands. You glance at him, brows knit together. The last thing you hear from your mother is a click of her tongue as she moves down the line. “Thank you.” You whisper, heart thumping in your chest. Was he trying to make up for what you talked about last night? 

He glances down at you, his smile shifting to something different. “Come find us caterpillars!” He yells and you gawk at him. He shoots you a wink and your lips part in awe. Did he just wink at you? That was so… weird. You shake your head and flail your hands in the air. 

Children start surrounding you, awkwardly shuffling to make room for others. Sanemi hands you a slip of paper with a list of names on it. Attendance doesn’t take long since everyone seems to have gathered around you. “Alright crew, let’s head out on that tour!” You exclaim, pointing your hand toward the double doors in the back. “Squirm to it you little caterpillars!” You shoo them down the stage, giggles erupting from a few of them as you jump off the edge. 

Sanemi follows the rest of them down the stairs, still holding the sign in the air. You giggle at how seriously he’s taking the task. “Mister Sanemi?” A small girl tugs on his shorts once everyone is outside. He peeks down at her with an award-winning smile. “Why is she not miss Sanemi?” She points to you and your eyes go wide as you tense. What kind of question is that!? Was there some code of conduct that camp leaders had to married to each other? Was two names that hard to remember?

Sanemi squats down and suddenly you get a flashback of him doing the same thing last night for you. You swallow, watching as he jerks his head in your direction. “Miss YN isn’t my wife, so she doesn’t share my name.” He explains. You drag a hand down your face. You didn’t expect this type of question to be asked so soon or at all. 

The little girl frowns and another kid points at Sanemi. “B-but I saw you wink at her!” The boy yells accusingly. Shit.

Sanemi glances at you with a ‘I fucked up’ look. He turns back to the group of children swarming him. He laughs easily. “I had something in my eye…” He deadpans. All of them suspiciously glare at him. 

You step into the circle, patting the top of Sanemi’s head. “It’s our secret leader code,” You begin, nudging him with your hip. “Whenever we have info on the big bad boss we wink at each other.” You wink at the children and their little faces light up. “Now you’re all in on our secret mission. Ready caterpillars!?” You stomp your feet and salute them with seriousness. They gasp and follow suit.

“Yes miss YN!” Sanemi shoots up from his squatted position, saluting you with a stupidly handsome grin. You stutter for a moment, before going back to at ease. “Now, what do you say we drop all these heavy bags off at the cabins and start exploring?” Sanemi suggests, pointing to the small path that led to the caterpillar cabins. As he excitedly starts leading them off into the distance you make sure to gather the stragglers. A smile of your own tugs on the corners of your mouth. Maybe you did make a pretty good team. 

Sanemi takes a seat on the stairs of your cabin, observing the kids form cabins of their own. You plop down one stair down from him, an amused grin forming on his lips. “What are you grinning about?” You quiz, glancing at him. 

He shrugs, shifting himself onto the same step as you and leaning back against the other steps. You can’t help the way your heart seems to pick up river dancing, beating fully. “Just figurin’ since we’re agents together we should be close.” You glare over your shoulder, met with his lazy smirk in your direction. A huff compresses out of your mouth as you roll your eyes. “What? I like the way you act when I get close to you.” He laughs, eyeing your reaction – which was exactly what he wanted. 

From his vantage point, Sanemi can just about manage to see your cheeks flush before you turn away from him, hiding away in your arm. “Like I’m being infected?” You shoot back, quickly standing up and – definitely pretending – to stretch. 

Sanemi’s eyes slowly rake up the exposed skin of your back, his tongue swirling around in his mouth as if trying to imagine how you would taste. “Mmm, somethin’ like that.” He hums, grinning widely when you narrow your eyes at him. 

The group of children start lining up in the grass, playing with each other while waiting for the rest of them. Some of them you recognize from last year, it’s crazy how fast kids can grow and change. Once you recognize all of their faces you and Sanemi start the tour. 

There are specific things that a sleepaway camp needs to have. Such as the obvious answer, cabins. The next obvious thing on the list is a beautiful lake. “Lake Maple was discovered way back when and this camp was built around it to preserve the landscape. There are canoes, swim gear, and a nice dock to carefully jump from. Make sure if you go to the lake that you have either Mister Sanemi or myself with you for safety.” Sanemi watches you recite the information you were supposed to give out, but you seem genuinely excited talking about the camp’s history. It was endearing… and the way your eyes gleam reminds him of when you were little, climbing trees and always reaching your hand out to him. You never left him behind. He sighs, turning away from your speech. 

The next thing a camp needs is huge buildings where lots of kids can gather. “This is the mess hall, where we’ll have breakfast, lunch, and dinner! It’ll also be where some indoor activities are held. If we don’t gather here, we’ll meet up by the picnic benches back at Caterpillar Circle. Over there is the infirmary where Miss Shinobu will gladly help you out. The main office is the building you should’ve passed when you were dropped off, that’s where Mrs Yena will be with, sadly, the only phone that has any service.” You point out, then turn toward the woods on the other side of the main camp area. You gesture widely to the expanse, taking in a deep breath. “And this, my little squiggles,” the children giggle, “Is Maple Woods, where we will hike trails, explore the wonders of nature, and fight off the evil boss.” Without thinking you wink at Sanemi. You can tell by the way his eyes bulge that he wasn’t expecting it, but as the little heads slowly turn to watch his reaction he quickly winks back at you. You catch yourself sighing in relief that you wouldn’t have to lay in bed staring at the ceiling for too long tonight because of that. 

A little girl you recognize from previous years – Himari you think – raises her hand. You nod to her in recognition. “Are we going to have the first-day campfire?” She jumps up and down, the girls around her getting excited as well. You glance down at your watch, then up to the sky, then do the girls. 

It was already late in the afternoon, the kids would have dinner and then gather back at Caterpillar Circle for an evening get-to-know-each-other campfire session. You grin, kids always enjoy the fire for some concerning reason. “Way to steal my job Himari!” You laugh and she giggles along with you. “Okay everyone, you heard Himari, head back to your cabins and get ready for dinner. Then we’ll have some time to get closer before bedtime. We have a busy day of fun tomorrow.” When they stare at you blankly, obviously waiting for one of you to start leading the way, you start marching your way down the path with as much vigor as you can muster. 

Soon enough, you and Sanemi are back in your positions on the stairs to your cabin. That comfortable silence blankets you again, like the setting sun’s warmth. “Ya’know you’re really good at this,” Sanemi begins before blowing out a breath and turning to face you. “M’glad we get to work together.” He finishes, a distant glimmer of emotion swirling around in his lilac gaze. You suck in a breath, a storm brewing in your stomach. 

Sanemi was a good guy, that much was obvious, but all those years ago had driven a wedge between you two. He hadn’t said the words ‘I’m sorry’ yet, which was a small nuance in the grand scheme of things. Sanemi was never really the type to say an apology, instead, he showed you. You can’t expect that much to change within him and you’re kind of glad. He would make it up to you until you were sure the wounds had begun to heal. He was giving you time to make up your mind on whether or not you wanted to forgive him. “Me too,” You whisper against the breeze. 

A whole column of picnic tables lined up edge-to-edge belong to your crew as you file into the mess hall. A couple of other groups are already sitting down with food, including the littles. Mitsuri and Kyojuro wave excitedly at you and Sanemi. You grin, waving back. “Alright squiggles, show me how nicely you can line up to receive dinner. Then come sit down and we’ll have a little camp saying before we start eating together.” They scramble toward the food and you kick your legs under the table part, deflating slightly. 

Sanemi comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. It makes you straighten your back and whip around to look at him. His lips curl in a playful grin. “Want the usual?” You glance at the kitchen, your stomach growling softly. You look back to Sanemi, nodding eagerly. 

As he walks away you think back to when he’d grab you dinner all the time, sitting in this exact mess hall. “Don’t disappoint me Shinazugawa!” You yell and he shoots you a smug grin as he scoots in line next to one of the boys in your group, Kenji. 

Mitsuri peers at you from her table, glancing back at Sanemi. Something seems fishy, she just can’t put her finger on it. Before this month you were complaining about seeing him again and now you two appear to be chumming again. Did something happen that you weren’t telling her? She pouts, nuding Kyojuro. “Do those two seem friendlier?” She asks in a hushed tone. Kyojuro furrows his thick brows, humming as his gaze flips between his white-haired friend and you. He’s about to tell Mitsuri she’s off her rocker, but he catches Sanemi throwing a look back at you while you are otherwise occupied with kiddos sitting down next to you. 

Kyojuro turns to Mitsuri, concern written all over his face. “Yes,” He hisses and now Mitsuri is concerned you may have ingested a little too much alcohol trying to help her out.

After a couple of minutes, Sanemi places a tray of vanilla pudding, tater tots, and chicken tenders with honey mustard sauce in front of you. “M’lady.” He grins, slipping onto the bench across from you with a tray of his own. Hana smacks Sanemi’s arm and he peers down at her with a surprised look. “What was that about Hana?” He questions, holding onto his arm where she hit him. 

She puffs out her lips and points at you angrily. “Mister Sanemi, we just went over this. Miss YN is not your lady.” She crosses her arms glaring at him. His brows shoot up, giving you a look of amusement before patting Hana’s head.

She looks like she might bite him at first, but then she leans into his hand. “Only because Miss YN keeps rejecting me..” He smirks at you. Ha! As if!

You roll your eyes, but gather the attention of your tables. “Let’s sing my favorite camp song!” You lead them in the Camp Maple fighting song that ends with chanting the name of the camp. “Wake me up wake me up we’re going to camp! I can’t wait I can’t wait we’re going to camp! There it is there it is we’re going to camp! Which one which one!? C-A-M P…M-A-P L-E!” They seem to enjoy every second of it, mainly because they get to scream as loud as they can. Sanemi meets your gaze for a blissful second before you busy yourself with your food, biting into one of the chicken tenders. Delight rumbles from your chest as you swallow the meat. 

Sanemi can’t help but watch you stuff your face. On one hand, he’s amused by how you still enjoy the simple things in life. On the other hand, he’s concerned when his heart races at you picking up the vanilla pudding. Being the heathen you were, as a child you’d just eat it with your finger. You claimed you could get more out of a cup if you used your finger. He grips onto the bench, gritting his teeth as you follow suit, sticking your pointer finger in. The creamy pudding sits there momentarily before you pop it into your mouth. 

It’s a simple, innocent – completely fucking innocent – motion, but his thoughts shift to something more warm than the humidity. Fuck why was seeing you damp with light sweat making him hungry? When you let your tongue swirl around the tip of your finger it drives Sanemi mad. Is he panting? He feels like he’s panting. 

A bit of pudding is on the corner of your mouth, waiting there. His heated gaze mimics how your tongue darts out to collect it. He sucks on his lips, regarding how your plump lips look so fucking delicious right now. 

The only thing that snaps Sanemi out of his daze is Hana plopping a spoon in front of you with a disgusted look on her little features. “You know Miss YN, if you needed a spoon you could’ve just asked.” She grunts, shuddering. Your cheeks flush and for the briefest seconds, you gape, staring into his eyes. Your cheeks flush a vibrant pink and suddenly Sanemi is picking up the spoon and using it in his own pudding. Hana and you both gawk at him, but if he were allowed to feed into one desire this whole time, it would be watching you eat pudding with your finger. Especially if it meant you’d look at him like that again. 

“This is the best pudding I’ve ever had.” Sanemi mumbles and Hana sighs frustratedly. “Something wrong Hana?” He asks. She whips her head toward him with a frown. 

Sanemi has to roll his lips into his mouth to stop from laughing at how cute she’s glaring at him. “Yes, I’m going to have nightmares.” She huffs. Yeah me too, but they aren’t exactly going to be nightmares Sanemi thought. 

Dinner finishes and children run around your feet as you walk out of the mess hall. The short walk back to Caterpillar Circle feels like an eternity with Sanemi walking silently beside you. “Can we wear our pajamas to the campfire!?” Aoi breezes past you yelling. 

You quirk a brow. “How about we make it a race? Whoever is back at the picnic tables first… wins.” You eye the giddy looks on all of their faces. “Ready? Go!” You don’t expect Sanemi to bolt toward his side of the cabin. Oh, so he’s going to play it that way?

Kids scramble to their cabins, giggling and yelling. You’re also laughing as you quickly swing your door open. You spot the pajamas you’d laid out earlier this morning with a smirk on your lips. The one reason you suggested a race is because you had an advantage. Cheating? No, strategic gameplay.  

You tug your clothes off, and toss them in the hamper beside your desk. A pair of shorts and an oversized shirt later you’re rushing out of the door in your slippers. You glance to your side, grinning mischievously when you don’t see Sanemi coming out of his door. You pump your hand in the air victoriously, spinning around in a mini victory dance. You proudly take your time prancing down the stairs, but when you turn to head toward the picnic tables Sanemi is leaning against the end of one with an amused smirk tugging his lips upward. Your mouth falls open, glancing back at his door. “How…? You…?” You slump in defeat as you reach him. 

He chuckles softly, bumping arms with you. “Your victory dance was pretty cute.” He teases. You glare at him, shoving him back with your side. 

Cute? In what way did he mean that? Sanemi must’ve talked too much with Tengen to pull one of those lines. You mutter a string of curses as you sit down in one of the green plastic lawn chairs. The arms dig into your hips and you grunt uncomfortably, pushing yourself into a less painful position. 

Your thighs are pressed together as you squirm around in the chair and Sanemi finds himself ogling the space where your shorts disappear under your tummy. He wanted to run his tongue along that area while grazing his teeth along your thighs. A lascivious smirk pulls on his mouth as he clears his throat, turning his face to the sky. 

The campfire starts with each kiddo introducing themselves, where they’re from, and three interesting facts about them. After the introductions, you bring out the s’more fixings with a twinkling grin as the kids scream enthusiastically. The night ends with you and Sanemi carrying some of them who fall asleep back to their beds. It was a euphoric space in time, something about today felt so right. Maybe the following weeks wouldn’t be so bad.

❦❦❦❦❦

You were wrong, so wrong. Sanemi stands to your side with his swim shorts on, assessing your outfit. “So… you’re not going to swim?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow. You lean back further into the armless beach chair, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He closes his mouth, glancing at the group of kids playing with water toys in and out of the water. “Nope.” You reply. “Observing from a distance is more my thing.” You continue, sliding your sunglasses over your eyes so you don’t have to squint through the rays of the sun. Sanemi sighs, disappointment finding its way into his mind. 

This morning when he saw you in a camp shirt with jean shorts he was sure you had a bikini on underneath. The only reason he got through a kid screaming about not getting any bacon this morning was the light at the end of his tunnel – you in a tight flattering bikini. “Y’know I knew you weren’t girly, but this is a whole new level.” Sanemi pokes at you, hoping that the fiery spirit within you will shoot out if he bugs you enough.

You glare at him, gesturing to your outfit. “This outfit is very girly I’ll have you know.” Sanemi shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you so you scoot as quickly as you can out of the chair. “Fine, watch the kids. I’ll be right back.” You snap. As you’re stomping back to your room you can’t help but think maybe you acted exactly how he wanted you to. If that was the case, then you’d give him what he wants, but he’ll pay the price. The malicious grin that forms on your lips as you pull out your lavender string bikini is grounds to have you locked away. 

Sanemi throws a beach ball at a group of the boys in the face as they giggle. In the back of his head is a flurry of lewd images of you spread out on that damn beach chair with a revealing swimsuit on. The boys throw the ball back at him and it plinks against his chest. He shakes his head, reaching for the ball as the boys groan. Fantasies of you were a distraction so he couldn't even imagine what the real thing would do to him. “Woah…” He hears one of the boys whisper. He glances up, met with the heavenly picture of you walking down the bank in a light purple string bikini that laces across your front. The cups are simple triangles with a string wrapping around the back of your neck for support he would only suppose. The bottoms rise above the roundness of your hips, showing off the fullness of your body. Damn, his mouth felt dry as he can’t tear his eyes away from you. 

His stomach was a trainwreck of emotions, the ball long forgotten by Sanemi. He blinks rapidly, trying to get you out of his eyes, but it was damn hard when you slowly lay back down on the chair, crossing your ankles over each other. He can see the side of your ass and for a beat, he feels like he might lose control. Then one of the boys throws the beach ball at him, it smacks against his face. This was torture. He expected you to look good, but the thin fabric allowed him to see the indent of your nipples – a vivid image he was never going to forget. 

You smirk while lounging in the chair, studying the way Sanemi’s mouth falls open ever so slightly. It was a strange sense of gratification that he was so enraptured by how you appeared in the bikini. Almost like you were happy he was gaping at you, a fire lit behind his eyes that ignited something in your chest. If you weren’t careful you were bound to let it out at some point. 

Since you were lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed Sanemi stalking up to your side. You squeak when he appears next to you, dropping a towel over your exposed skin. You glare up at him through your sunglasses. “Did you walk out of every boy’s fantasy?” He grumbles, running a hand through his damp hair. 

Clicking your tongue, you toss the towel to the side and sit up in the chair. “Does that include yours Sanemi?” You inquire, pushing your sunglasses up through your hair. He stares at you for a while, mulling over what kind of response to give you. 

Suddenly, he scoffs and turns his back to you. “Yeah. Yeah it does.” You swallow hard at his confession, the sun’s heat no longer feeling as hot. You scoff, leaning back into the chair. He gives you one last glance before running back to play with the boys in the water. 

Was he being serious? He couldn’t have been…right? It wouldn’t make sense for Sanemi Shinazugawa, the guy whose seen you eat a bug, to have a fantasy – or whatever he meant about you. The confusion made the victory bikini less fun. 

At dinner, the kids are enraptured in a conversation about tomorrow’s canoe outing in the afternoon. This might seem silly, with you being a sleepaway camp counselor that has a giant lake as its main attraction… but you never learned how to fully swim. You can keep your head above water if you’re able to touch the bottom. It's something you haven't mentioned to anyone due to the fact you would die of embarrassment. “How quickly can you go Miss YN?” Hana’s eyes are pleading with you to answer her inquiry. 

So you smile, despite the obvious anxiety of where this answer might lead you. “Faster than Mister Sanemi.” You reply, jerking your thumb toward the white-haired male sitting a bit further down from you. 

He perks up at the mention of his name, meeting your eyes. “Did you just say you’re faster than me?” He laughs, scooting down to sit across from you. Hana nods ecstatically before you can brush off the challenge dripping from his voice. 

You sigh, shaking your hands in front of you. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare reveal the truth about you being a slowpoke.” You tease. Sanemi quirks a brow, letting his eyes look you up and down. The simple motion makes your muscles tense with a buzzing sensation. 

He hums to himself, leaning back with a shake of his head. “I bet you can’t win in the beginners' course against me.” Sanemi smirks, the boys around him snickering. 

Your eye twitches at the smug look on his stupid face. You clasp your hands together, smiling with gritted teeth. “You’re on Shinazugawa.”

That was your second mistake of the week as you shakily got into a canoe the next morning dressed in a white shirt and comfortable black shorts. The kids were fine with pushing off the hike to another day to witness this extraordinary event. Sanemi is grinning victoriously already. It makes you want to slap him with the paddle you’re holding. “Ready?” He asks. 

The grip you have on the paddle tightens as you nod curtly. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You respond. Sanemi nods to one of the kids who starts a countdown before they all scream GO! Everything is going fine until you reach the turn. Sanemi is already far ahead of you and this becomes more of proving you can do it to yourself than winning against that smug bastard. 

With the paddle dipping into the water you manage to turn around the flagged buoy, children cheering your name. Your heart nearly explodes with happiness at the accomplishment. You make it a few more feet before you get too overzealous and the canoe starts to flip. As you crash into the water you knew you’d just have to flip yourself back over to – well, not drown. But something goes wrong and you slip out of the canoe, into the deep end of the lake. Murky water crowds your vision and a few thoughts crowd your mind. 

Will you get out of this alive? Is this some sort of divine intervention about how you’ve been previously living your life? Was this your canon event? You’d laugh at that one if you weren’t still sinking to what felt like the depths of the lake.

Would your mother even care? Okay, that one stings, but it’s something you think about a lot. When you’re driving and have one of those intrusive thoughts about wrecking. Would she care? Noticing a creepy person walking behind you at night. Would she come to your funeral? And now, as you lose the will to breathe. Would she remember what you smelt like, sounded like, looked like? 

Sanemi crawls out of his canoe, raising his hands in victory. He turns around to gloat in your face, but he’s met with your canoe upside down. You are nowhere in sight and after a second of you not popping back up, Sanemi frantically dives into the water. Where are you? His hands glide through the water, searching for any sign of your body. Where are you? Water fills his ears, only making the pounding in his chest louder with each stroke of his arms. He breaches the surface, gasping for air and twirling around to see anything – anything that would lead him to you. “Mister Sanemi! There!” A child screeches, pointing to the front side of your canoe. 

He plunges back in after taking a large gulp of air. He will find you this time. He’s not scared anymore. Not like all those years ago. He couldn’t lose you, not like this.

Amid some plant life is your floating body. If Sanemi were above water he thinks he’d cry with joy. He quickly moves toward you, scooping you up and pushing both of you toward the surface. Please please please don’t be too late. Sanemi’s mind is whirling with anxiety and his heart is pounding with the lack of oxygen. You both break through the surface, Sanemi pulling you along with him to shore. He deposits your limp body on the sand, panting and scanning for any sign of injury. 

You’re not breathing. Damnit. Sanemi’s jaw ticks as the children rush toward him. “Mister Sanemi give her CPR!” Hana yells, stomping her foot and mimicking the pushing rhythm he should be performing on you. He wipes his mouth, nostrils flaring as he slides to your side. His insides were twisting in unbreakable knots, squeezing his lungs of all air.

He pinches your nose and lowers his mouth to yours. “You can yell at me later,” He breathes quietly before connecting his lips to yours. As he pushes air through your lungs his lecherous mind drifts to how very wonderful your lips feel against his. They’re wet and taste like lake water, but they’re so damn soft. After a few more blows he worriedly looks at your chest. He doesn’t want to break your ribs, but if he has to in order to save your life – he’s going to.

Luckily, you chose now as the moment to gasp in air and then start hacking up lake water. Your eyes wildly scan your surroundings, locking onto the man hovering inches from your face. You squirm away from him, coughing into your hand. Sanemi and the children watch you with concern-stricken faces. You touch your throat gingerly, meeting the swirling lilac gaze of the male in front of you. “You saved me,” You croak out as it all falls into place, furrowing your brows. 

Hana pops into your view shaking her head. “Took him a long time to kiss you!” She yells, an annoyed pout on her lips. You glance back to Sanemi, his gaze still locked onto you. 

He cocks a grin in your direction which makes your heart swell. “I gave you mouth-to-mouth.” He explains and the worry about you being unconscious for your first kiss with Sanemi – not that you’ll have a first kiss with him – drifts away. The thought of his mouth on yours stays wandering in your head regardless. “Kids, can you hang out in the mess hall while I take Miss YN to the infirmary?” Sanemi questions, the children eagerly following instructions. He peers down at you once they’ve all scurried toward the big building. 

With a grunt, he slides his hands behind your neck and knees, hoisting you up bridal style. You yelp at how easily he holds you against his chest. “Hey, I can walk,” You grumble, glaring at his concentrated expression. He shakes his head, climbing up the bank. 

As he climbs you nearly tumble out of his arms. He cracks a smile, shifting you in his grasp. “Might wanna hold on tighter than that darlin’. Don’t worry, I won’t mind.” 

Begrudgingly you wrap your arms around his neck. The walk to the infirmary takes less than a couple of strides when he reaches the walkway. Shinobu worriedly meets your gaze when Sanemi kicks open the door with his foot. She stands from her desk, hurrying over to his side. “What happened!?” She assesses you with a scrutinizing look. “Put her down on that bed. I need to go get another bottle of aspirin from the main office. Sit tight.” Shinobu huffs, running a hand through her hair before slipping out of the door. 

Sanemi gently lays you on the bed, giving you a scan of his own. You swallow hard, wondering why your body feels so warm despite the brisk ac making your wet clothes stick to you. The way his lilac eyes regard you made something inside of you switch. He’d shown you how deeply he cared for you by saving your life. Granted, any decent person would’ve jumped in to pull you out of the water – but Sanemi looks shaken up. Like he almost lost you. It makes your chest heave, a heavyweight tugging on it as you reach up to touch his cheek. 

His worried look turns to you, a slight wobble in his irises as your thumb strokes the side of his face. “Hey… I’m here. I’m okay. You did such a good job.” You whisper, but yet your voice seems too loud. Sanemi leans into your touch, shutting his eyes as he takes in a shaky breath. 

It was all fun and games until he had to think of a world without you in it. The bottom line is he wouldn’t have a world without you. The grass would shrivel, the color would drain, and sunlight would simply cease to exist. “You should’ve told me you couldn’t swim.” His brows furrow and he opens his eyes to stare into your very soul. “Why didn’t you tell me? I was so worried YN.” He rolls his lips into a thin line, his chin trembling. 

It’s like you lose your breath all at once. This man, the one you thought didn’t have an ounce of compassion for you, was about to start crying because you failed to mention your lack of skill. You bump your forehead against his head, kissing his hairline. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” At your words he jerks away from your head, his eyes wildly scanning your face. Your breath holds tightly in your throat as time seemingly slows. 

Then his eyes fall to your lips and everything in the universe pulls you two together into a soft brush of the lips. Given the state of it, hidden behind a white curtain on the infirmary bed, the kiss felt too precious. Too wonderful. Your hand falls from his face and before you have a moment to give in to whatever was happening, Sanemi pulls away. He shoots to a standing position, turning on his heel. Your body cools instantly. Oh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” He begins, taking a couple of steps toward the curtain. Oh. He quickly glances over his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He hisses, then rushes out of the building nearly bumping into Shinobu as she walks back with a pill bottle in hand. She jumps back, eyes widening as she watches Sanemi stalk toward the mess hall. If it hadn’t been for the heat she might’ve mistaken the red on the tip of his ears as something else. 

❦❦❦❦❦

Weekends are set up for the kids to decide what they want to do. It’s a free period within reason. Most of them hang out in groups around the buildings, playing games or swimming. Weekends allow the leaders to get chores done around the campgrounds, like picking up trash, organizing things for the next week, arranging laundry, and supervising more involved things. 

You happened to spend most of the first weekend with a group of girls who wanted to use the craft supplies for next week. Since Sanemi was your co-leader there were times you had to speak with him, which made avoiding him incredibly difficult. 

The thing that upset you the most was even after he ran off, your heart still flutters at just the sight of him. Weren’t you supposed to be the master of your own emotions? It frustrated you to no end how you sought him out in crowds. At first, you tried to convince yourself it was a strategy to avoid him, but when he didn’t come to talk to you somehow your heart sank. 

Before you know it, Monday morning arrives, casting a stormy forecast for the rest of the week. It’s pouring heavily outside the mess hall windows. Fortunately, your group of kids are behaving even though it couldn’t be easy stuck inside all day. Your eyes are drawn to the other group happily stringing beads onto yarn. 

Sanemi sits amongst them with a warm smile on his face, actively trying not to glance at you. He can feel your gaze on him and it was making his heart feel weird, like he’d just run a mile or hiked up a trail. He presses his lips into a thin line, laughing absentmindedly at one of the boys spilling beads everywhere. 

The kiss. That’s all he could think about and it was ruining his life. All night he tossed and turned thinking about knocking your door down so he could do it again. Regret ran through every fiber of his being when he walked away. He thought he’d gotten over his fears, but it turns out that realizing you might have feelings for your good friend is not the easiest situation to be in. He was in a panic, fucking terrified you would hate him for kissing you. He didn’t even ask you, it just happened. What kind of scumbag was he? 

He groans, turning to face away from you. You huff, rolling your eyes. Fine, he could be that way if he wanted. He’s the one who kissed you anyway. This was all on Sanemi. Hana nudges her friends Keiko, Mai, and Akane. They all slowly turn to stare at you, then toward Sanemi. Keiko narrows her eyes while tying the knot on her bracelet. “Somethings wrong,” She mumbles, slipping the adorably crafted jewelry onto her arm. 

Mai and Akane nod vigorously. “Why are they avoiding each other?” Akane hisses, glancing back at their other leader. Hana shakes her head, stroking her chin in thought. 

Kenji appears behind the group, causing them all to jump. Mai slaps his shoulder and he giggles. “What’cha talkin’ ‘bout?” He pokes his head in between Akane and Mai’s shoulders. They collectively sigh, rolling their eyes at the annoying boy. 

Hana gestures to both leaders, pinching her brow. “For some reason, Mister Sanemi and Miss YN are avoiding each other.” She explains snappily. 

Kenji pops his head up, glancing at both of you. His mouth forms in the shape of an ‘o’. “Ah, this reminds me of when my mom and dad would fight and then ignore each other.” Hana perks up at his suggestion, slowly turning to look at her friends. 

Mai raises a brow and then grabs a piece of yarn. “There’s only one way to fix this.” She valiantly collects a bunch of green beads to mix with lilac ones. She picks out two heart-shaped beads that sit on either side of a letter in the middle. When she’s done, two bracelets sit in front of her. One has an ‘S’ with two red hearts on either side, followed by a pattern of lilac and green. The other is the same, except in the middle is the first letter of your name. “Matching friendship bracelets,” She holds them up, smiling triumphantly. 

Hana claps her hands together. “Wonderfully done Agent Mai, now let’s give it to them!” She grabs the ‘S’ one from Mai’s hands, running over to your side. “Miss YN!” She yells. “We made this for you!” Without much consideration for your wrist, she shoves it past your hand. 

“Here you go Mister Sanemi!” You turn to see Kenji holding what seems to be the same bracelet in front of Sanemi’s face. A roll of thunder shakes the valley outside and his eyes meet yours momentarily. It sends a shock of emotions through you.

Later that night as the rain plips against your window you stare at your wrist in awe. A growl echoes around your room and it takes you a moment to realize it was your stomach. It almost makes you crack a smile. You would’ve if you weren’t in such a daze as you walk out into the living room area. 

What you don’t expect to see is Sanemi leaning against the counter shirtless, with his sweats hanging loosely around his athletic hips. You swallow, taking your time to rake your eyes up his bare chest. When you end up meeting his gaze his lips tug into a smirk. “Enjoy the view?” He mutters, picking a peach up off the counter. 

Your brows furrow and you cross your arms over your chest defensively. “As a matter of fact, no I’m not.” You snap, scoffing and lying through your teeth. 

Sanemi shrugs, biting into the juicy peach tantalizingly slow. Juices leak from the broken skin, dribbling down his chin as he takes the flesh into his mouth. His tongue darts out to lick up a droplet escaping down the side of the fruit. You gulp as he continues to eat. The noises alone were enough to drive a woman mad, but the fact you were ovulating made everything so much worse. “Want one?” Sanemi asks, licking his lips of all the sticky juice. 

If you were crazy your mouth would fall open, allowing him to put the one he was eating into your mouth. “No.” You grumble, yanking a can of Pringles out of the cabinet. 

Sanemi watches how your ass curves as you stretch to reach into the upper cabinet. “Suit yourself,” He mutters, biting into the peach again. You roll your eyes and march right back into your room, tossing the pringles onto your bed. You ruffle your hair, silently screaming into the night. Fuck that guy for being shirtless. He waltzed around like a whore scrounging for some loose change obviously trying to get a rise out of you. Would the kiss go unmentioned forever? How were you supposed to be around Sanemi when all you could think about was how badly you wanted to jump his bones? You’re absolutely fucked. You grit your teeth together as you glare at the door. But damn did he have such a perfect body. The sweats, the lazy smile, the damn peach he bit into. It was all torture and he damn well knew it.

He wasn’t likely to figure out the full extent of your feelings– hell you didn’t even know exactly what you felt, but if he kept this up you might as well walk around with a neon sign on your forehead that reads I’d like to fuck Sanemi Shinazugawa. Maybe then your mother would pay attention to you. Not that you care.

You glance down at your wrist again, the letter ‘S’ spreading a grin across your face. This was stupid. So stupid. What if Sanemi was still in the other room? Or using the bathroom? What would you do then? You have a pit of desire and you wish Sanemi would clean it off with his teeth. Were you jealous of a peach? Groaning, you slip out of your bottom layer of clothing, discarding it on the floor. Things were getting dangerous. Your thoughts were supplying you with a fantasy world and you were about to become delusional. At least then you wouldn’t have to face the reality of this stupid – well, whatever it was. 

Positioning yourself against the corner of your bed, you spread your legs apart. The cool breeze from the ac hits your damp pussy and the sensation makes you slump against the wall. If Sanemi were between your legs right now he’d probably lick his lips and spread them even wider so he could have full range to lavish his tongue against your sensitive clit. A tiny moan whines from your throat. 

The image drives you to reach between your thighs, hissing when your fingers brush against your clit. His tongue would feel warm, wet, and slick as it laps at your folds. Your fingers plunge deeper, a strangled moan falling from your mouth.

Your breathing pattern stalls, hiccuping as you work yourself into a frenzy – the inside of your stomach feeling gooey and hot. His long thick fingers would slip into your pussy, teasing the entrance where you’d beg for him to fuck you later. He’d smirk, pleased with how you’re so desperate for his cock, for all of him. But he’d make you wait, good girls always wait for permission. You groan – a guttural pleasured groan. It rolls through your chest, cracking into a whimper at the end as you edge yourself closer to your crest. 

It’s like you’re seeing stars with how your fingers feel, you only wish Sanemi were here, ready to please like he usually is. His words and touch always elicit a response from you. He had to know that. What kind of response would he get out of you as he lined the tip of his cock up at your entrance? Making you bed for him to fuck you unconscious. You’d be such a good little slut for him. Taking all of him inside your hungry cunt until he clung to your hips, spilling his seed inside of you. 

A tense pinch of pleasure squeezes your core, crashing through your body with a string of perfectly pretty moans. Sanemi hadn’t meant to listen to you masturbating. It was an accident – he’d come to your door to apologize for allowing you to misunderstand his intentions. His knuckles had brushed against the wood of your door when he heard you gasp. Wondering if you were okay he pressed his ear to the door. Then, his muscles tensed as you purred out a moan. 

Sanemi was a decent man – or so he thought until his hand slips down to his growing bulge. He hisses as you whimper, gasping for air – your bed squeaking with movement. He wants to swing the door open and take in the sight of you sprawled out. What kind of face were you making while moaning like that? More importantly, what were you thinking about? 

You’re whimpering and the glint of the beads around Sanemi’s wrist sends his thoughts spiraling. The very same bracelet he wore on his arm was around yours. It was like he was between your legs, pressing his thumb against your clit to proudly watch you squirm in pleasure. His mouth waters, imagining how you’d taste after cumming. His cock aches to burrow into your wet warmth and stay there forever. 

He presses his forehead to the wood, letting out a tight breath as he strokes his length through the cloth of his sweatpants. If he stayed here any longer it would surely result in him knocking down your door. Not the valiant way he had thought about confessing. Sanemi steps away from your door, cursing under his breath. He holds up his arm, staring at the matching bracelet until he notices the first letter of your name. His gaze slowly makes it way back to the door. Was there an ‘S’ on yours? For his name? His eyes flutter shut, a trickle of possessiveness racking through his body. 

Tuesday is finger painting. The kids each get their own easel and insist you and Sanemi paint with them. The morning ends with Sanemi having paint smeared across his face and you with splotches on your arms. The afternoon is bubble painting, which results in bubbles being blown everywhere. Wednesday is crafting things with clay. You proudly present your monstrosity at the end of the day. Sanemi and the kids try their best to compliment whatever you had created, but you can tell they’re just being nice. 

When Thursday rolls around the kids want to draw and color all day so Sanemi and you make sure they have lots of construction paper, colors, and other supplies. You’re sitting with Hana’s group of friends and Sanemi is across the room with a group of boys, drawing furiously.

Kenji peers down at what Mister Sanemi had drawn. “Hey, that kind of looks like Miss YN,” He points at the stick figure holding the hand of the other one. Sanemi covers the page and shakes his head. 

Kenji somehow manages to push his arms off, grabbing the paper. “Oi! Brat, give that back!” He yells as Kenji runs over to your side. You smile down at him as he hands you the page. 

You cover your heart and your smile grows. “Aww, Kenji did you draw this?” You ask, your voice softening. 

He shakes his head vigorously. “Nope! Mister Sanemi drew you and him holding hands!” You glance up, meeting the flushed face of Sanemi standing over Kenji. His eyes look pleading as you drop your eyes to the drawing again. It did kind of look like you, but that would be impossible. Why would Sanemi draw something like this? 

“YN, listen…” He starts, brushing up against you. Your body stiffens at his close proximity. “I hadn’t finished, I was going to draw the kids in next.” He explains. You wish he would step back from your side because his warmth is driving you insane. 

Kenji giggles as he rushes back to his group of friends. “It wouldn’t matter anyway.” You state, handing the drawing back to Sanemi. “I could honestly care less what you draw.” You smile sarcastically and turn back to your group. Sanemi stands behind you for a moment, his heart yearning to reach out and touch you again – but he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He obviously already fucked up when he kissed you, after all you’d been avoiding him. It was best that he kept his distance to figure out how to talk to you and give you space so you’d listen to him.

The next morning you manage to chow down your breakfast before Sanemi enters the kitchen area. In all honesty, you were aware thinking about someone you were mad at while masturbating… wasn’t the best look. You didn’t want to think about the realities of what that meant for you since Sanemi was still being an asshole about the whole innocent kiss thing. The thoughts going through your head last night were far from innocent. 

You’re sitting in a lawn chair, writing down some ideas for today’s craft. The kids had to make puppets and come up with a script to perform in the afternoon. With your group of kids, things were bound to go smoothly. You grin, shutting your notebook and checking the time on your phone. It was almost time for the kids to meet you and Sanemi near the picnic benches. You glare at your cabin, waiting for the white-haired male to step out of his door at any moment. The knob turns and you quickly act like you weren’t blatantly waiting for him. “Mornin’ YN,” Sanemi calls, jogging up to your side. You roll your eyes, glancing at the casually attractive outfit he has on. A pair of fitted black shorts that accentuate the size of his muscular thighs with a loose gray shirt tucked into one side. 

He plops down next to you. “Why were you so late?” You interrogate. Sanemi quirks an easy smirk, eyeing you out of the corner of his eye.

Sanemi props one of his legs over the other, leaning further into the chair. “I had to take a shower,” He begins, raising his brows. “Could’ve used the company.” He cocks his head toward you, his lilac eyes filling with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint. 

Your brows furrow despite the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Scared of showering by yourself just like you’re scared of kissing people?” You snap and his playfulness is immediately wiped off his face. Where were these words coming from? Were you going crazy? The inside voices are becoming the outside voices! It’s too late now to back peddle. You scoff, turning away from him. “Don’t, I know you regret and it’s fine. I just figured you would’ve cut back on the flirting.” You push out of the chair. “I’m not some girl you can flirt with for the summer and then fuck off to wherever, okay? If you’re going to accidentally kiss me then fucking own up to it and talk to me like an adult. You made me feel so uncomfortable because I somehow thought it was my fault. So this whole cool-guy act needs to stop. Until we have a real conversation about what happened I would rather go back to friendly hating each other.” 

As you stomp away Sanemi feels the ‘oh shit’ factor roll through him. While he’d been trying to figure out his feelings toward you, he’d been allowing you to figure it out for him. You assumed he wanted some summer fun and thought better after kissing you, but that wasn’t it at all. Sanemi was falling, so fucking deeply in love with you. He had been ever since you were kids, but as a boy who grew up barely knowing what kindness was, it was hard to seek out those emotions. Now looking back to how he felt when you ran away into the woods that night… he realizes the panic of finding your mother was so you would be found as quickly as possible. No one saw you for a week after that and he’s still not sure what happened, but he knew it wasn’t good. 

He was stronger now and he’d stand up to your demons, slaying them with you by his side. He would protect you no matter what, but right now he had to explain this misunderstanding before it was too late. Kissing you was the best thing to happen to him – accident or not. It made him forget how shitty his life was and how blissful it could be by just seeing you. He’d fucked up.

After cooling off you wandered back to the growing group of children that rush you when they spot you. It makes your heart warm that they’re so excited. Sanemi watches you from a distance and you’re glad he seems to finally be listening to you. 

Leading the kids to the mess hall through the light morning rain is more peaceful than it should be. No one tries to jump in the mud, they stay in between you and Sanemi, walking politely. When you explain in detail what they’re supposed to do all of them get to work using craft paper and whatever was leftover from the week. The morning blows past and suddenly you’re sitting in a seat next to Sanemi as groups of kids put on puppet shows. Some of them make you snort with laughter and others are downright works of art. Then, Hana and her group of friends present their show. A spikey white-haired puppet and one that looks eerily like you pop up into the makeshift theater. 

Your eyes widen realizing what’s going on. “Hi there darling! I sure do love your face!” Kenji yells, playing the white-haired puppet. 

Slowly you and Sanemi make eye contact. “We should love each other’s faces forever. Then love our baby’s faces. Then love our-”

You shoot into a standing position, clapping your hands together. “Okay, that’ll wrap up the puppet shows everyone!” You demand, laughing nervously. What the actual fuck? You whisk around to glare at Hana and Kenji dramatically making the two puppets kiss. “Oi, William Shakespear and Agatha Cristi get over here, now.” You point to the spot next to you and Sanemi. Akane and Mai scurry away with the rest of the kids heading toward the snack table. 

Kenji and Hana meander toward you; pouts puffing out their bottom lips. “Guys, you can’t keep doing this.” Sanemi gestures to the puppets on their hands. “Miss YN and I aren’t some story you can just use willy-nilly. We’re real people with real emotions.” 

A scoffed laugh falls from your lips. “Mister Sanemi has a hard time with emotions anyway, that’s why this show wasn’t even true to life. He would never call someone darling.” You explain dully. 

Hana shakes her head, pointing to Sanemi. “Nu-uh! He called you darling the other day!” She exclaims. You glance at Sanemi and then drag a hand down your face. 

“Hana, this isn’t something you should be concerned with.”

“But we just want you and Mister Sanemi to make up.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s no fun while you guys are fighting.” Your eyes bulge as she talks. Did the kids care that much? And they noticed? Gosh, that was kind of sweet. 

Sanemi leans forward, ruffling Hana’s hair. “Don’t worry about it kiddo, we’ll work on it.” He glances at you with a slight smile. A sigh rushes through you as you nod in agreement. Kenji and Hana rush off to the snack table to join their friends. You can remember a time when you and Sanemi played pranks on the camp leaders. A growing ache suffocates your next breath. You peek at him, wondering where things went wrong. Part of you was mad that he walked away after the kiss and another part was angry because you enjoyed it so much. No matter what happened it felt like you couldn’t be friends with him. It was like the universe was keeping you away from each other for a reason unbeknownst to you.

When you both get back to the cabin nothing gets talked about. It’s an awful feeling, like abandonment all over again. Sanemi didn’t care enough about you to talk or explain why he kissed you. Everything was so nice until that stupid kiss that you couldn’t stop thinking about. The fact that it was that good, yet lasted about two seconds drives you mad. 

It’s not until Saturday morning as the sky quakes with thunder and heavy rain, that you decide enough is enough. If he wasn’t going to talk to you, then you’d have to take it into your own hands. That was until there was a knock on your outside door. You get out of bed and open it to find Yena holding an umbrella. Her eyes are filled with some sort of sorrow as she blows out a heavy breath. “YN, deary, I need to speak with one of your kiddos. Can you bring Kenji to the main office? His mother is on the phone.” She explains, a sad smile creasing her lips. You nod your head, looking toward the cabin you knew Kenji was sleeping in. 

You look back to Yena, wondering how serious it was for her to be so affected by it. “Yeah. Let me get dressed and I’ll bring him over before 8.” You reply, a cool wash of anxiety coating your insides. Yena nods. 

“I’ll see you then.” She turns to leave, walking out into the downpour. You study her retreating form before shaking off the dreadful feeling that was wrapping around you. After slipping into a comfy pair of shorts and a hoodie you run over to cabin 3. 

Knocking on the door a sleepy boy answers the door. You recognize him as Mikey, one of Kenji’s close friends. “Hey Mikey can you get Kenji for me, please? Tell him to get dressed and meet me out here.” You explain and the little boy shuts the door. 

A couple of minutes later Kenji pops out of the door, eagerly running up to you. He hugs your legs and bounces up and down. “Are we going on a special mission Miss YN!?” He yells, grabbing onto your hand. For some reason your heart aches, sensing something is off.

You bend down to his level anyway, putting on your biggest grin. “We sure are! I needed my bravest soldier to help me on a secret quest.” Your face becomes stern and Kenji giggles, running around in a circle. 

“Don’t worry Miss YN! I’ll protect you! Did’ya know I’m stronger than Mister Sanemi!?” He squeals, punching the air. You stand up, laughing off his comment about your co-leader. All those years carrying you around and taking care of his little brother were bound to build up excess strength. Plus those muscles of his were no joke…

Kenji latches onto your hand again as you walk the path to the main office. It’s not raining as hard as it was moments ago, but thunder still rolls through the sky. You walk him through the main office door, Yena waiting behind the counter with the phone pressed to her ear. She spots Kenji and waves him over. He sends a look at you over his shoulder before releasing your hand to walk to Yena’s side. She hands him the phone and his face instantly drops.

The hands of your past crawl back into your stomach, clawing out anything good and leaving behind gouges of trauma, boiling toward your throat. Kenji’s eyes start trembling as he clutches the phone to his ear. “No! No! You can’t!” He suddenly yells, pushing the phone away from him, sobs flooding from his mouth. You take a step toward him but he angrily glares at you before bursting through the front door. Yena slumps defeatedly against the wall. 

You glance at the door still swinging shut. “Yena, what’s going on?” You inquire softly, terrified of the answer she’d give you.

She looks up, a pained expression taking the light away from her face. “Kenji’s parents are divorcing. His father isn’t going to be there when he gets back.” 

Her words coast around in your brain before you turn on your heel and bolt after Kenji. No, no, please no. The similarities between your past and this moment is laughable as you cut through the trees. Your eyes wildly search for little Kenji, anywhere, somewhere. Thunder claps above your head but you ignore it, traveling further into the woods. “Kenji!” You scream, rain spitting into your eyes. “Kenji please come back!” You yell, cupping your hands around your mouth. You feel empty, yet full of terror. The same way you felt back then when your mother kicked your dad out of your life. The man that would take care of you when your mother got too angry or too drunk. He was gone forever, your protector. Left you to be fed to the monsters your mother harbored. 

You split through a clearing, breathing heavily as the rain comes down with torrential intent. You feel like crying, screaming, throwing yourself off a cliff even, but you catch a glimpse of Kenji’s red shirt huddled up against the hallow of a tree. “Miss YN!” He cries, holding out his arms for you. “I’m scared.” You rush to his side, bringing him tightly to your chest. 

The both of you cling to each other under the cover of the tree, sobbing with the sky. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” You breathe, stroking his head. Kenji curls up in your arms, trembling with tiny hiccups. You knew these woods like the back of your hand, but as the rain blurs your vision the realization crashes over you. 

You had no idea where you were.

Sanemi watches the rain from his window, wondering what you were doing right now. He grunts as he slides off his bed, heading through the kitchen area to your door. He knocks lightly, aware that you might still be sleeping. “YN?” He calls out softly, but you don’t respond. He furrows his brows knocking harder. “YN?” His voice is firmer, but yet nothing comes from your room. He reached for the knob, twisting it open with ease. The door swings open revealing your empty room. He glances around, breathing in your scent and trying to push down the excitement of being in your personal space. He moves around your room, heading toward your outside door. He walks through it, feeling the cool breeze of the storm against his skin. 

Where were you? He spots a group of boys sitting outside their cabin. He jogs over to them through the rain, stopping under the cover of their deck. “What’cha up to?” Sanemi inquires, planning on asking them if they’d seen where you went. 

One of them looks at him. “Miss YN took Kenji and we’re waiting for him to come back because he wanted to play games with us.” He explains and Sanemi quirks a brow.

What was that about? “Do you know where?” Sanemi pushes. The same one that was talking to him shakes his head.

“They were headed toward the main office, but I’m not sure where exactly they were headed.” Sanemi thanks the group of boys before running toward the main office. When he swings open the door Yena is sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. She glances up when he walks further into the door. 

Her features soften, a worried expression crossing her face. “Oh Sanemi, thank goodness. I’m so worried.” She rises from her seat, crossing over the carpet to his side. 

A sense of dread hits the pit of his stomach like a weight of bricks. What was going on? Where were you? Why did Yena look so anxious? “What’s wrong?” Sanemi glances around the office, wishing that you’d pop out to surprise him. 

Yena places a hand on his shoulder, turning his attention back to her. “Kenji ran into the woods and YN followed him.” She explains. 

The feeling of concern amplifies as his blood cools. Not the woods again. “When?” He snaps, a strike of lightning illuminating the sky. Yena sighs, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

“About an hour ago,” She trails off, furrowing her brows together. “Sanemi, please, find them.” Without a second thought, he runs into the woods. A flash of when he was younger causes him to halt at the tree line. His heart is beating erratically in his chest as he stares through the trunks of thick forest. He’d been too scared to continue on back then, but you were probably frightened too. Who was he to love you if he couldn’t face your terror? It’s then that he lifts up his wrist to view the matching bracelet. He shakes off his nerves and starts jogging through the foliage.

The rain soaks through his shirt, slicking his hair to the side of his face. He had to find you. Just a week ago you nearly drowned on his watch because of a stupid bet and now you were lost in the woods during a strong storm. Were you trying to test his patience? No… you most likely ran after Kenji because of your inner child. Something wanted to heal that part of you. Being a child was difficult, especially when you were taught that emotions were wrong. 

Sanemi can remember the way your mother screamed as he pulled you angrily by your arm. Her grip left marks on you, red splotches of hatred spanning your tiny arm. She was cursing, screeching about how much of an embarrassment you were, if you loved your father so much then why didn’t you go find him? She was a pure blur of her past demons boiling up into one entity – against her own daughter. 

Now, he would plunge a sword through her heart and save you from the wild beast. Take you away somewhere safe. If only he’d understood more back then. It was all his fault. He had no right to have these feelings toward you when all he caused you was turmoil. Yet, he can’t help but see your smiling face, blushing cheeks, and sparkling eyes. The way you stop to smell the breeze of the lake. How joyful you are with the kids, genuinely caring for them. Your sassy remarks when he got too flirtatious with you. The way your lips felt against his in that blissful moment. He… truly loved you. Every ounce, curve, and flaw. “YN!” He screams, the beating of his heart echoing in his ears. 

Sanemi wants to tell you everything, instead of running to someone else. This was between you and him. He couldn’t last another second without telling you how much you meant to him. “YN! Where are you!?” He’s scanning the treeline, worry creasing his brows. 

You and Kenji still, then look at each other. “Is that Mister Sanemi?” He asks, eyes welling with tears again. You brush your thumb over his plump cheeks, soothing him.

It’s not helpful that your heart picks up its beating rate at the thought. Sanemi had come to find you – well you and Kenji. Regardless, you’re a little too happy about it. “Over here!” You scream, covering Kenji’s ears. 

Sanemi’s heart thumps against his ribcage as he hears you scream back for him. He glances around his surroundings, his eyes finally landing on a hint of red in the distance. “Hold on! I’m coming!” He charges toward the area your voice came from. 

He sees your face, a sloppy mess of tears and wet hair, and he wants to drop to his knees. “Thank goodness…” You whisper, letting Kenji run to hug Sanemi’s legs. His eyes are locked on your every movement, studying if you are okay. 

“We need to get you back, I don’t think you could’ve made it out of the forest.” Sanemi holds Kenji’s hand, waiting for you to start following him. Something holds you back though, a sinking feeling of guilt or shame – you weren’t sure which. 

You had cried and hidden away just like when you were younger. Sanemi didn’t come to save you��� he came to prove a point. You were still just that little girl, running away from her problems. You’re silent the whole way back, emotions dancing with thoughts. Yena hugs you and then yells at you for running out without a map. Kenji is sent to get a check-up from Shinobu. Everything feels like it’s underwater, floating past you. Only when you’re in front of your cabin do you snap out of the daze, peering up at Sanemi. “You didn’t think I could make it out on my own…” You mutter. He turns to you, knitting his brows together. “I thought you were there to save me, but you were just there to prove that you could do it. It had nothing to do with me.” Your body feels frozen, numb even. 

Sanemi opens the door to his room. “That’s not it at all. Just give me a moment and we can talk about this later.” He replies, closing his door behind him. Later huh? You didn’t want later. Now was later. 

You rush to his door, swinging it open angrily. “No, you don’t get to walk away. We’re talking about this now.” You snap, taking in Sanemi without a shirt. Why did he always have no shirt on? You halt, mouth gaping. 

He sighs, tossing his wet shirt into his hamper. “Fine, you want to talk, let’s talk. It was careless of you to just run after Kenji like that.” He hisses, motioning to you. “Do you know how worried everyone was? I understand why you did it, but what if something had happened to the both of you? What then YN?” 

You march up to him, poking at his chest. “You don’t understand shit Sanemi! Kenji ran into the forest. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and wait for some big muscley man to go in and find him? I did what felt right and you cannot blame me for that!” Your voice is quaking, on the verge of tears. 

Sanemi scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m not blaming you! For fuck’s sake can you stop thinking that everyone is out to get you!? I am not your mother. I care about you and blame myself every fucking day for what happened back then.” Wow. Did he really just bring up your mother? A tormenting ache twists your gut, sucking up any energy you had left.

His nostrils are flaring and your body buzzes with a newfound heat. It’s anger, it’s sexual frustration, and its adrenaline all wrapped up into one. “Yeah well, you have a real funny way of showing how sorry you are. It’s so funny how you can kiss me one day and then act like nothing happened the next.” You laugh tightly and watch as his brows shoot up.

A sarcastic laugh bubbles out of his throat. “Unlike you, I don’t face everything head-on. I was terrified after I kissed you, because yes I kissed you. Do you have any idea how confusing it is to realize after all these years that I’m in love with you? Then to realize that I’ve fucked up so massively that there’s zero chance of anything ever happening?” He hisses, rolling his lips into a tight line after his confession. This wasn’t how he pictured telling you, but at least it was out there now for you to hear.

Your body tenses, staring at Sanemi with wild eyes. Love? He was in love with you? It was like a slap in the face and a warm blanket at the same time. “Then fucking change my mind,” You order. 

Sanemi’s eyes widen and his throat bobs with nerves. “Y’know I love it when you get bossy,” He whispers, grabbing your face with gentle vigor. The kiss starts off soft and genuine. Your hands travel into his soft hair, moaning lightly against his lips when his hands find their way to your ass. That’s when something animalistic awakens in the both of you. Sanemi spins you around and walks you back against the wall, pressing his knee between your legs. You groan through your mouth at the lovely pressure. 

His lips work against yours, deepening the kiss into something feral and needy. “God, I want you.” You huff out between a break. You feel a cocky smirk on your neck where Sanemi nips at the junction of your shoulder. All those times you imagined the quick peck between you both was nothing compared to this. Kissing Sanemi was like pouring hot magma onto a frozen lake. Your body was alive with pinpricks of electricity. 

You peer down, shakily watching him explore the planes of your body. This was all too much. He was someone you cherished, someone you hated… someone you – was it possible for you to even love someone? You care deeply for your friends, the kids, and this camp… but love? It's something so deep, so pure that it transcends everything. Did you love Sanemi Shinazugawa or were you crushing on him? The line was thin, but at the same time a cavern impossible to jump over. “Hey hey hey, where did you drift off to?” His voice breaks you out of the daze you were in. Your eyes blink up to meet his, soft and beautiful.

His warm hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “Do you need me to stop? I got caught up in my own selfish desires…” He trails off, looking away bashfully. Huh? Was this gruff man actually…adorable? 

Leaning into his hand you shake your head. “I was just thinking about insecurities,” You laugh, meeting his gaze. Sanemi’s face softens and for once you wish your home life had been different. There were times you were grateful that what happened to you made you stronger, more resilient to people’s bullshit. Spinning it into a postive made you think less about the trauma. Now… you want to be something soft Sanemi can mold with his love. You yearn to fall into his blanketed warmth where somehow you’d be safe. “But I’m better now.” You finish, realizing all at once that it didn’t matter if you loved him, because you could love him. Love was something you were able to feel, eventually, that is. He could teach you. “Sanemi, I really like you… do you think – do you think we could continue kissing?”

An airy laugh blows through his nose as he guides you into a sitting positon on his bed. “M’course, just let me know if you want to stop.” His eyes light up micheviously, bending down to peck your lips teasingly. He sinks to his knees, sliding his hands down your outter thighs. 

Sanemi was never someone you thought would stun you into silence, but as his gaze drops to the apex of your legs it suddenly becomes hard to speak. “What? Got no smart ass response?” He glances smugly up at you, rolling his tongue over his lips. Instead of replying you spread your legs apart for him. Your action brings his longing attention back to your clothed pussy, which clamps on nothing. “Mmm, I guess your body can do enough speaking,” He hooks a finger into your shorts, pulling them down your waist. “S’pretty.” He hisses, reveling in the way your panties cling to the dampness of your cunt. “All mine,” He’s muttering to himself like a mad man and maybe he was, but it brings a flush to your cheeks. 

You squirm to fling your short to the side of his room, wiggling out of your underwear next. He watches like he’ll die if he looks away. “Sanemi I can’t hold back, please, I need you to do something.” You give him enough room to stay between your legs. His smirk worries you only slightly.

He stands, the girth of his cock outlined in his pants. “Just remember you asked for this. We’ll have plenty of time to take it slow later, but right now I can’t wait anymore either.” His eyes are a dark brooding purple as he slips the belt out of its loops smoothly. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed. Your childhood friend was about to fuck your brains out and the fact that you’d been fighting only made the tension in the room that much thicker. 

Sanemi’s cock is longer than anyone you’d been with before and you can’t seem to look away from it. How the head weeps and is blush pink with untouched desire. He’s barely holding on, but the weight of reality slaps you across the face. “Do you have a condom?” You quip and he freezes. His cheeks blush as he glances at his nightstand. 

“Can’t think why I wouldn’t pack condoms coming to a job where I’ve never had sex before…fuck. I can stop if you want to, I wouldn’t dare-”

“Sanemi, I could care less. Right now all I want is you. We’ll figure it out together.” You grab the back of his neck to bring him in for a kiss. As his lips work against yours he lines himself up at your entrance, brushing the head of his cock against the slick of your arousal. He hisses into your mouth as the tip slips into your warmth. A shaky moan echoes through both of you as you push your foreheads together to watch his cock slide into your pretty pussy. 

You blow out a breath, throwing your head back in utter bliss. Sanemi fills you out beautifully, stretching your walls just enough to send shivers up your spine. “You feel perfect…you’re perfect,” Sanemi kisses you, slowly starting to move his hips. The muscles in your stomach tense with a hot iron of pressure. 

“Haa, Sanemi, please,” You begin but he snaps his hips into yours. A loud slap of skin rattles through his room. Your eyes go wide and a sharp gasp pushes through your body. 

He grins over you, sliding back on his knees and bringing you with him. “Mmm, shh babygirl, m’gonna take care of you.” He strings your legs over his hips, rocking you on his cock. 

Moans burst from your mouth as you cling to his neck. “F’ Sanemi,” You gasp, his cock plunging deeper into your pussy than the previous postion. 

“That’s it, let go pretty girl,” Sanemi burrows into you, a fucked out grin coating his lips. You feel like you’re almost split in two, but the sting bleeds into a sharp pleasurable throb. It radiates through your core, spreading tingles across your skin. Your head lolls to the side a bolt of electricity twisting around your stomach, coating it in the crashing waves of your climax. You’re both panting as Sanemi fucks into you, gripping your hips onto him. 

The overstimulation makes you squirm on top of him, but he chaces his own crest, finally finding it when you grip the back of his head, fisting his hair. Warm cum coats your insides, Sanemi gently laying you back down on the mattress. You feel gooey inside, but there’s a silent happiness that brings a smile to your face. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I promise next time I’ll last longer- I, I…shit let me go get you a rag.” Sanemi pushes himself up on his elbows but you caress his cheek, calming the anxious glaze in his eyes. 

“No, stay.” He’d finally found you… and you weren’t about to let him out of your sight for a long long time.  

[aemondapologistfrfr]

You Can Have Anything You Want

aegon x fem!reader

Summary: Aegon needs comfort and seeks out the only person who can give him what he needs. You help him calm down and offer him as much comfort he desires.

Warnings: 18+ alicent not breaking generational curses!, swearing, wine, handjob, praise kink, oral(m), p in v, unprotected, sub!aeg 🫂, overstim

Authors Note: somewhat a s1ep8 insert but different bc i just wanna take care of him rn 🙂‍↕️🫠 bruh i almost put ice in this fic and i was like damn they really didn’t have ice or freezers wtf shits crazy - what’s also crazy is i’m posting this from my graduation ceremony so i’ll add the links to my masterlist and tag my taglist in a couple hours lmfao xx

Word Count: 2.8k

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Aegon doesn’t care that Rhaenyra and Daemon are coming to court. He doesn’t care about the succession or any of it. All his mother does is yell at him lately and he can’t take it anymore. He avoids being within the Keep’s walls as often as he can but over the past week leading up to his sister's arrival she’s had him watched more carefully. The tunnels were his only form of escape but when he was found stumbling in the front gate of the Keep in the early hours of the morning she had his guard check on him in his chambers hourly to make sure he was where he was supposed to be.

“How kind of you to check on me in my cell.” Aegon turns his head as his mother walks into his chambers.

“I could have a cell prepared for you.” she looks at him with exhausted eyes. “I don’t understand what happened to the sweet boy I once had.” she sighs.

“Mm,” he nods his head and walks over to the table to pour himself a cup of wine but finds the bottle empty. He curses lowly and walks over to his stash and fishes out a clear jar of amber liquid.

“Gods and the amount you drink..” she continues to tear into his every move and every choice. He drowns out her words and walks back to the table to pour his glass to the brim. He jumps when he feels her hand on his shoulder and he sets the bottle down with shaking hands. “Are you even listening to me?” she pulls him towards him.

“You yell at me about the same things every single day, mother.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m not the son you want. You don’t like anything about me and you wish I was different. Did I miss anything?” he gasps as her hand flies across his face.

Everytime she hits him he hopes it’ll be the last. Surely a woman who has devoted herself so wholly to the Gods wouldn’t subject her children to such things. He turns back to her with wet eyes and she scoffs at him. He clenches his jaw and tries to make his mind go blank as she looks over him. She offers him a sneer before sweeping out of his chambers and leaving her self hatred and poor upbringing across his face. He turns back to the table to fill his glass and drains its contents in one go. He sighs, brushing his hair back and out of his face before walking over to the tunnel door.

Aegon softly closes the door that connects to his chambers and sighs in relief as the cool air breathes against his skin. He starts down the stairs trying to push his mothers words and actions out of his head so his tears don’t start anew. Once he’s out of the confines of the Keep it feels as if weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He slips through the crowds as he makes his way deeper into the city. When the crowds get thinner the more depraved his sights become.

The sounds of people coupling in the alleys greet his ears and his heart starts to beat faster. Gods the women on their knees in front of men leaning against the brick have him wanting to stop and watch for a while. He shakes his head and keeps walking because what he seeks tonight is very specific. His pace slows as he rounds the corner and stops in front of large wooden doors. He pushes them open and is immediately greeted by the warm atmosphere.

He finds it funny that he can feel such a sense of comfort in a pleasure house but to him this is how he envisions a loving home to be. Soft lighting and plush couches fill up the main room. There is a soft haze in the air from the candles and incense and words and sounds of pleasure here are more hushed, more intimate. He inhales deeply shutting his eyes and when he exhales his shoulders relax. As he opens his eyes he’s greeted by the madam standing in front of him with a soft smile.

“What would you like tonight, my Prince?” she purrs.

“I want to see her.” he feels his cheeks flush. He looks around the room more intensely searching for your face amongst the couches. He turns back to the madam when he can’t spot you. “Where is she?” his brows scrunch.

“I’ll go get her.” the madam cups his cheek. “Go get a drink.” she pats his chest and disappears behind the curtain.

Aegon sighs and walks past the different couples, never shying away to look longer than he should. The barhand hands him an overflowing cup of ale and Aegon nods his head before downing half of the cup before walking back through the open room. Aegon sinks into an unoccupied couch and lets his eyes shut as he finishes the rest of his cup. A smile spreads across his face as he feels your fingers brushing his hair back. When your nails scrape against his scalp he cracks his eyes open and flushes as he’s greeted by your exposed chest.

“Hello my sweet boy.” you hum, softly tugging his hair. You watch as he leans back into your touch and lets out a soft whine. “Do you want to go to bed?” he nods his head once and you walk around the couch and pull him up. You lead him down the hall and into your room and start to lift off his tunic. “What’s wrong?” you brush his hair back taking in his soft pout and red cheeks. As you search his eyes you see them start to well with tears and then notice that one of his cheeks is redder than the other.

“I don’t know.” he curses himself as his voice breaks. When you wrap your arms around him he freezes and then completely falls apart in your arms. “I’m sorry.” he rasps as his tears fall onto your shoulder.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” you whisper into his neck. You smooth his hair and his breathing starts to even out. “Are you okay?” you lean back and search his eyes. You cup his overly red cheek and softly stroke your thumb over the heated skin. “Do you want me to get you a cool cloth?” he will never get used to your kindness.

“No.” he shakes his head. “I’ll be okay.” his hands squeeze at your sides. “I just want you.” he trails his fingers up your sides to rub under your breasts.

“You can always have me, Aegon.” you start to unlace his trousers and push them down. “You can have anything you want, good boy.” you blink up at him and he lets out a soft whine.

“I want to go to your bed.” he smiles as you grab his hand and lead him over to your warm bed. He’s sure you have the softest blankets and pillows throughout all of the realm and he revels when he gets to lay in them with you. He watches as you sit back against your mountain of pillows and gesture for him to come to you.

“Come, let me help you feel better.” you grab his hand and help him lean back against your chest and sit between your legs. After he’s settled your lips press against his neck while your hands squeeze at his sides. He lets out soft whimpers as your hands roam across his chest while grazing your nails down his soft skin.

“Please,” he softly gasps as your hands tease down his thighs.

“What do you want, sweet boy?” you suck softly at his neck. You look down and see his red and leaking tip and smile to yourself. He whimpers, jerking his hips up and grabbing for your hand. Aegon brings your hand to his straining cock and sighs when your fingers wrap around him. You stroke him slowly, thumbing the droplets from his tip to help your hand glide smoother.

“Please, please,” he jerks his hips up into your hand.

“Shh shh,” you whisper into his neck. You turn his head to press your lips against his mouth. Your hand cradles his cheek while the other pumps his length. “You’re my best boy.” you mumble as you kiss down his jaw and he squirms in your arms. “You have the most pretty cock, Aegon.” you softly suck on his neck.

You slide your hand on his cheek down his torso and past his length to cup his balls. He groans, spreading his legs and leaning back into you. He rocks his hips into your hands and the whines and moans leaving his mouth go straight to your center. “You’re doing so good for me.” you praise as you focus on his tip, swiping your thumb across his slit and underside. “My favorite boy and favorite cock.” his chest tightens at your words.

“Please, yes, I’ll be good,” his words broken and pleasure slurred.

“You’re always so good for me, Aegon,” you press your lips to his pulse. His jerks start to become erratic and you slowly start to move his balls around in your hand and you speed up your pumps. “Be a good boy and come for me.” you tighten your grip and he whines as his pleasure starts to shoot across his flexing stomach. “You did so good, Aegon.” you press your lips up his neck and to his mouth. He devours your mouth desperately as you continue to slowly stroke him.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth. “Please,” he rolls his hips, starting to harden again. “I need you to fuck me, please,” he grabs at your arms.

“I was going to suck your cock first.” you press kisses down his jaw as small moans and gasps spill from his lips. “Would you like that, sweet boy? Do you want me to give your cock the kisses and attention it deserves?” you smile when he nods quickly, desperately grabbing for your hands.

“Yes, yes please.” his chest heaves as you slowly start to loosen your grip around his length. You remove your hands from him and slowly start to scoot out from behind him. You kneel next to him and take in his flushed cheeks and parted pink lips. He reaches up and pulls you down to his lips and you indulge in his greedy grip and let his hands travel all over your skin.

You release his lips and kiss down his chest. Your tongue darts across his nipples and he squirms, digging his fingers into your shoulders. Slowing down your movements you leave open mouth kisses down his navel cleaning up his come along the way. He groans watching you lick him clean as he softly bucks his hips. You kiss around his leaking tip that’s resting against his stomach as you settle between his thighs. He props himself up on his elbows when your fingers wrap around his cock and groans as you press your lips against him.

“Such a pretty cock, Aegon.” his cheeks flush a deeper red as your tongue swirls around his tip. “Such a pretty boy with a pretty cock.” he whimpers at your words. “Who is always so good for me. So sweet.” you murmur before flicking your tongue against the underside of his tip. Aegon tosses his head back into the pillows as you suck his tip into your mouth. He whines as your hands squeeze into his hips as you slowly sink your mouth down around him.

“Gods yes,” he whines as your cheeks hollow. His fingers go to your hair and you pull up. “No, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he removes his hands and you look up to him seeing his lip wobble.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweet boy.” you hum. “I just want to hold your hands.” you nod at him offering a soft smile. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring them back to his hips as you press your lips against his shaft. He squeezes your hands as you suck him back into your mouth and bring him to the back of your throat. His hips jerk up and you moan around him moving your mouth faster.

“I’m gonna, fuck please,” he gasps as you suck his tip harshly while flicking your tongue against his slit. You look up and see his eyes slam shut as his hips go taught as his seed starts to pour down your throat. You continue your movements as he whimpers above you. “Please,” he squirms and tries to move out of your grasp but you dig your fingers into his as you keep licking and sucking at him. He trembles as you continue to shower him with pleasure as he cries out your name. You slowly loosen your grip on him and pull off of his cock while he whines.

“You did so good for me.” you press your lips back up his navel and chest. As you kiss up his body you move to straddle his hips as you hover above him. “You’re so pretty.” you cup his cheeks and start to pepper kisses across his flushed face. You slowly start to rock your hips against his sensitive cock, watching his eyes roll back. His fingers grip your sides as you slide your wetness across him.

“I wanna be in you. Please,” he jerks his hips up into you. Your lips fall to his and he pulls you closer molding you to him. “Please,” he whispers, arching his chest into yours.

“Relax, sweet boy.” you kiss down his jaw as you grind your hips down harder onto his slowly hardening length. “You know I like to take my time with you.” you chuckle feeling his fingers dig harder into your flesh. “Until your cock is crying for my cunt.” he gasps as your fingers reach between you both to grab his cock.

“Gods I’ll do anything, please,” his voice cracks as you pump him faster. You dip his tip into your wet core only to pull it out the next second. “Fuck,” he pants as he jerks his hips desperately. You guide his tip through your wetness relishing in his whimpers. “Please,” he pushes your hips down and you let out a soft moan. “Fuck, please let me make you feel good.” you nod, guiding his now hard cock to your entrance.

“Aegon,” you whine his name as you sink down on him. You press your hands to his chest as you start to rock against him. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as you start to bounce against him. “You feel so good.” you moan breathlessly tossing your head back. “Your cock always makes me,” you gasp as he jerks his hips up. You slow your rocking and you both moan loudly digging fingers into one another.

You lean down and move your hands to bury them in his hair as you press your lips to his. Aegon’s hands lower to your ass and squeeze before he starts to guide you. “Your cunt hugs my cock so perfectly. I wanna stay in it all night. Please,” you start to rock your hips faster at his words finally working towards your own pleasure.

“Of course, sweet boy.” you bury your head in his neck. “You make me feel so good.” you suck on his neck. Your hips roll against his faster as your stomach starts to tighten. “Fuck, Aegon.” you whine as he jerks his hips up into you. “Just like that, fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you cry out as your pleasure washes through you. He whines as you sink your teeth into his neck.

Aegon fills you with his pleasure at the feeling of you squeezing around him. He holds you tightly as he feels as if he’s being drained completely. His legs shake as you brush his hair back and offer him small kisses. You move up slightly to kiss across his hairline and you both moan at the feeling of him still buried deep inside you.

“You did so good, Aegon.” you press your lips to his. “You’re always so good for me. So good.” you roll your hips and he groans. “My perfect boy with his perfect cock.” his arms tighten around you as you continue to whisper words of praise and affection.

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masterlist 🔌

aegons the goodest boy fr

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[reidmarieprentiss]

Ink Impressions

Summary: Y/N is a hot new tattoo artist that Derek and Emily want to see more of...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: tattoos

Word count: 2.1k

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Derek Morgan found himself walking through a part of town he didn't visit often. His steps slowed as he passed a new shop front: Ink Impressions. The sign was sleek, with an artistic flair that caught his eye. It was new, and he’d heard a few people at the gym talk about how talented the artist was. Curious, and with a rare free afternoon on his hands, Derek decided to check it out.

The interior was a mix of industrial chic and cozy comfort. Dark wooden floors complemented exposed brick walls adorned with framed tattoo designs ranging from intricate mandalas to minimalist line art. The hum of tattoo machines filled the air, mingling with the scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of clients and artists in conversation.

Derek approached the front desk, where a young man with a friendly smile greeted him. "Hey, welcome to Ink Impressions. How can we help you today?"

"I'm thinking about getting a tattoo," Derek replied, his voice carrying its usual confidence. "Do you guys take drop ins?"

The young man nodded, gesturing towards the back of the shop. "You’re in luck. Our lead artist is available. Her name’s Y/N. She’s amazing. I’ll take you to her."

Derek followed, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. They rounded a corner, and there she was. Y/N was seated at her station, her focus intense as she worked on a client's arm. She was striking, with vibrant hair that fell around her face in waves, a few tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves. She exuded an air of confidence and artistic passion that immediately drew Derek in.

The young man cleared his throat softly. "Y/N, this is Derek. He’s stopped by for a drop in. Do you think you can fit him in before your next appointment?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Derek’s with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat. She smiled, setting down her tools and removing her gloves. "Hi, Derek. It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to help you with that. Do you have any specific ideas, or would you like me to create something unique for you?"

Derek felt his usual charm waver slightly under her gaze, but he recovered quickly. "I have some ideas, but I’d love to see your take on it."

After Y/N finished with her initial client, she sat down with Derek and discussed the concept, and Y/N sketched a design that captured the essence of strength and resilience, elements that resonated deeply with Derek. Her talent was evident in every stroke, and he was impressed not only by her skill but also by the way she listened and understood the emotions behind his request.

As she prepared her station, Derek glanced around the shop, trying to mask his growing interest in her. "So, how long have you been tattooing?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "About seven years now. I started apprenticing right out of high school and never looked back. I opened this shop a few months ago."

"That’s impressive," Derek replied, genuinely admiring her dedication.

Y/N began the tattoo, her touch gentle yet precise. "What about you? What do you do?"

"I’m an FBI agent," Derek said, watching her work. "Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Y/N looked up, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. "Wow, that sounds intense. Do you solve a lot of mysteries?"

Internally, Y/N couldn't help but laugh. She knew exactly who Derek Morgan was. Spencer had talked about him often enough—his partner at the BAU, a close friend. She could almost hear Spencer’s voice, recounting their cases, his admiration for Derek's skills and strength.

So this is the famous Derek Morgan, she thought, amused. Small world. But she kept her face neutral, professional. She didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. The last thing she needed was for Derek to know she was dating his colleague. It would complicate things, and she prided herself on maintaining a clear boundary between her personal and professional life.

"Yeah, it can be," Derek replied, oblivious to her internal amusement. "It’s challenging, but I love it."

As the session went on, Derek found himself captivated not only by Y/N’s talent but by her presence. She was easy to talk to, and he enjoyed the way she seemed genuinely interested in his stories. There was an effortless connection, a spark that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

When she finished, Derek looked at the tattoo in the mirror, his heart swelling with emotion. "It’s perfect," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you."

Y/N smiled, her expression warm and sincere. "I’m glad you like it, Derek. It was an honor to create this for you."

As he paid and prepared to leave, Derek couldn’t help but linger. "Maybe I’ll be back for another one," he said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a twinkle in her eye. "I’d like that. You know where to find me."

As Derek walked out of Ink Impressions, the cool air hitting his face, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He knew he’d be back—not just for another tattoo, but to see her again.

—

The bullpen was bustling with the usual Monday morning activity as the team settled back into their routines. Derek Morgan entered with a confident swagger, a fresh energy emanating from him. As he passed by desks, he couldn't resist pulling up his sleeve to show off his new tattoo. It was an intricate design, beautifully done, and it immediately drew attention.

Emily Prentiss, seated at her desk, caught sight of the tattoo and her eyes widened in admiration. "Wow, Morgan! That’s incredible. When did you get that done?"

Derek grinned, obviously pleased with her reaction. "Got it on Saturday. There’s this new shop called Ink Impressions. The artist is amazing. She really knows her stuff."

Emily stood and walked over, examining the tattoo more closely. "The detail is fantastic. Who's the artist?"

Derek leaned back in his chair, a playful smile on his face. "Her name’s Y/N. She’s not just talented—she’s also incredibly sexy."

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "Sexy and talented, huh? Sounds like you had quite the experience."

Derek chuckled. "You could say that. She’s got this way about her—confident, passionate about her work. You should definitely check her out if you're thinking about getting some ink."

Emily's interest was piqued. "I’ve been considering a tattoo for a while now. Maybe it’s time to finally go for it."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "You won't regret it, Prentiss. Y/N’s the real deal. Plus, the shop's vibe is great—professional but with a cool, laid-back atmosphere."

Emily looked thoughtful, already envisioning what design she might want. "Alright, I’m sold. I’ll swing by Ink Impressions this week and see if she has any openings."

As they chatted, Penelope Garcia sauntered over, having overheard part of their conversation. "What’s this about a sexy tattoo artist?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Derek laughed. "Garcia, I think you’d love her. She’s got this artistic flair that’s right up your alley."

Garcia clapped her hands together. "Well, now I have to see this for myself. Maybe I’ll get something small to start with."

Emily grinned. "Looks like Y/N might have a few new clients this week."

As they shared a laugh, the phone rang, signaling the start of another case. The team quickly shifted gears, but there was a newfound buzz of excitement. Derek's tattoo had not only impressed his colleagues but also sparked a sense of camaraderie and curiosity.

Throughout the day, Derek couldn't help but think about Y/N and the connection they’d shared. He was eager to see her again, not just for her talent but for the undeniable chemistry between them. Little did he know, Emily and Garcia’s upcoming visits to Ink Impressions would bring them all a step closer to intertwining personal and professional lives in ways they hadn't anticipated.

—

Emily Prentiss walked into the shop, greeted by the familiar hum of tattoo machines. She was greeted warmly by the receptionist and soon found herself in front of Y/N, who looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Hi there! What can I do for you today?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Emily smiled, feeling instantly at ease. "Hi, I’m Emily. A friend of mine, Derek Morgan, got a tattoo here recently. I was so impressed that I decided to get one myself."

Recognition flashed in Y/N's eyes, and she chuckled inwardly, remembering the charismatic agent. "Ah, Derek! He’s a great guy. What are you thinking of getting?"

As Emily described her idea, Y/N listened intently, her mind already envisioning the design. Despite knowing Derek and his world, she kept her focus on her craft, maintaining the professional boundary she valued. But as she worked on Emily's tattoo, she couldn't help but feel a growing connection to these agents, wondering how long she could keep her secret before the lines between business and pleasure inevitably blurred.

—

The BAU team had decided to unwind after a long week, gathering at their favorite local bar. The place was lively, filled with the hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the distant sound of live music. Spencer Reid had just returned from visiting his mother in Las Vegas, and he was grateful for the chance to catch up with his colleagues in a more relaxed setting.

As the team settled into their booth, drinks in hand, Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan were excitedly discussing their recent tattoos. Emily pulled up her sleeve to show off the intricate design on her forearm, while Derek proudly displayed the tattoo on his bicep.

"You guys have to see this," Emily said, her eyes shining. "Y/N is incredible. Her artistry is on another level."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "And she's not just talented—she’s smoking hot. I’m telling you, she’s got this whole vibe that’s hard to resist."

Emily laughed. "We were just saying, it’s almost a competition to see who’s going to ask her out first."

They both looked at each other, playfully competitive. "You think you can beat me, Prentiss?" Derek teased.

"Oh, I know I can," Emily shot back, a mischievous grin on her face.

Spencer, sitting quietly beside them, listened to their banter with a growing sense of unease. His fingers tightened around his glass as he processed their words. The name Y/N echoed in his mind. He knew exactly who they were talking about. His girlfriend, Y/N, was the talented artist they were raving about.

Trying to maintain his composure, Spencer asked, "What shop did you guys go to?"

Emily turned to him, still smiling. "It’s called Ink Impressions. It’s a new place, but it's already getting a lot of buzz."

Spencer bit his lip, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He felt a pang of jealousy but also pride knowing how highly they thought of Y/N. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm.

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Y/N walked in, looking around until her eyes landed on him. She smiled warmly and started making her way over to their table.

Emily and Derek continued their playful debate, oblivious to Spencer’s internal turmoil. "I don’t know, Derek. I think I’ve got the upper hand. I mean, she seemed pretty interested when I was there," Emily said, winking.

Derek laughed. "We’ll see about that, Prentiss. I’m not backing down from this challenge."

Spencer couldn't hold it in any longer. He set his drink down and cleared his throat, catching their attention. "You might want to rethink that competition."

Emily and Derek looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" Derek asked.

Before Spencer could answer, Y/N reached the table, her presence commanding their attention. She placed a gentle hand on Spencer’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Hey, baby."

Spencer's face lit up with a smile, and he looked up at her with obvious affection. "Hey, beautiful. I’m glad you made it."

Emily and Derek’s jaws dropped simultaneously. "Wait, you two know each other?" Emily asked, incredulous.

Spencer nodded, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Yeah, you could say that."

Y/N grinned, sliding into the booth next to Spencer. "I guess the secret’s out," she said, laughing softly. “Spence here is my boyfriend.” Y/N gazed at him lovingly.

Derek shook his head in disbelief, but there was a playful glint in his eye. "Well, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us. I guess that means you win by default."

Emily chuckled, raising her glass. "To Spencer and Y/N. I guess we don’t need that competition after all."

The team raised their glasses, toasting to the unexpected revelation. As they settled back into their conversation, Spencer felt a sense of relief and happiness. He had nothing to hide anymore, and the night seemed even brighter with Y/N by his side.

[hyewka]

i hear you were taking recommendations so!! what if beomgyu and reader were out n about but the catch his beom has a vibrator in, and he just keeps on getting teased, getting hot n bothered to the point where he can’t take it anymore! and reader finally complies and tells beom that they can go home but he’s just too needy too, he wants to do it right then and there, dare i say in an alleyway?…

warnings. public, femdom, plug vibratorrr

perm tag. @yyeonzi

the alleyway’s only dimly lit so it offers some semblance of privacy—though you can still hear the bustling noise of the city in the distance. beomgyu’s hands are still tightly gripping yours, very clearly waiting on you to make a move. his pupils are blown out, restlessly picking at your hand— the vibrator inside of him must be driving him insane by now.

tilting your head, you brush your hand against his cheek to which he leans into pretty damn quick, sighing out softly as his eyes flutter shut. “you realise how crazy this is right? dragging me to an alleyway because poor you can’t wait to get home.”

he whimpers in response, his eyes snapping open at your teasing. “you don’t understand, i can’t. i can’t, please.”

it’s like a drug, his need for you in moments like this. you could almost believe it when he swears he’d die if you don’t push your hand down his pants.

so, you press him back against the rough brick wall, your body flush against his. beomgyu doesn’t disappoint, gasping at the sudden contact, his head tilting back slightly as he tries to stifle a moan. “good boy. you’re going to have to continue being quiet for me. can you do that for me puppy? can you stay quiet while i take care of you?”

“yes! yes i can, i swear to god i can. please.” his voice cracks by the end and so you trail your hand down his chest, satisfied with his eagerness. “please just let me fuck you.”

feeling his whole body trembling, hearing his heart beating rapidly while you slowly trace the outline of his bulge. “such a good boy,” you drawl, rewarding him with a kiss just below his ear that only serves to have him subconsciously buck against your hand, with yet another strangled whine.

his chests heaving when you eventually grip the front of his pants, feeling the dampness that's already gathered there. his stupidly big cock’s straining, hard and leaking, and you can tell he's been holding back for far too long. finally, you decide to show him some mercy, backing up until you feel the rough brick of the alley wall pressing against your back.

beomgyu’s adam apple bops and you can feel his hardness pressing against you through his pants as his hands frantically bunch your skirt up. “i’ll be good, i swear.”

you can feel his breath catch in his throat as his fingers slide over the slickness between your thighs. “you’re so wet,” he whispers, almost in awe. “guess i wasnt the only one really losing my mind out there.”

imagine when hes finally sheathed inside of you, the sound he cant help but make, the way his entire body jerks as that one choked moan escapes his throat before he could even think to stop it, you have to immediately press your hand over his mouth, muffling the sound. "shh,” you whisper against his ear harshly? "remember what i said about being quiet.”

hes pulling back to meet your glare, nodding with glassy eyes, his hips quick and shallow with their thrusts. his breath comes in short, ragged gasps as he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

with a smirk, you slide your hand down his back, tracing the curve of his spine until you reach the small of his back. your fingers find the base of the plug nestled between his cheeks and his hips stutter in their rhythm, a low, needy moan escaping his lips as you gently tug on the plug. “oh god, what the fuck—” he chokes on his spit, his voice breaking again.

his thrusts pick up again, and this time theyre even more crazed, more erratic, slamming inside of you furiously, making you lose slight control. he was just fucking you so, so good.

“what? you like that, don’t you? you slut.” you tease, out of breath yourself, giving the plug another firm tug before pushing it back in slightly.

you can tell beomgyu’s pretty head’s completely out of it, his thoughts hazy and incoherent because hes already panting with his mouth hung open and his tongue lolled out like an animal seeking relief— his hands a mind of their own as they dumbly grope every inch of your body he can get them on, especially your breasts. his fringe is disheveled, obscuring his vision, but you can still make out the strain on his face as it contorts, clearly trying not to lose himself.

when you arch into him, he shudders, and you cant help but mock him when he cant help but moan again. “you’re so pathetic. such a dumb, needy whore. do you need me to shut you up?”

you feel him shake his head immediately before he starts to press wet kisses on your exposed neck. “sorry…sorry, m’sorry.” he mumbles over and over again, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

its so primal when you both finally cum, his hips buck wildly, his moans growing louder and more desperate, muffled by the frantic kisses he presses against your neck. as his body starts to lose control, you tilt his face up, grabbing his chin firmly, forcing his lips to meet yours. immediately, he wraps his tongue with yours, his moans swallowed by your mouth as his release hits him hard.

the faint scent of rain and sweat lingers in the air when you finally break the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into his dazed, half-lidded eyes. his lips are swollen, flushed a deep pink, slightly parted with a fullness to them, glistening with saliva.

of course, you shower him with praises and reassurances. surprisingly, he didnt gather you a crowd and that was enough to give him everything he wants and needs<3

notes. send me your nastiest sub txt shit idc go all out im willing to write it today

[dollishmehrayan]

ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS WITH TIM ── .✦

a/n: guys who’s backk anyways this was a request by this lovely @pearlybaee (mentions aren’t showing up) but anyways I hope this reached the standards and tysm! ᥫ᭡

tags: ( tim drake x gn!reader)

THE RIVALRY BEGINS ── .✦

You and Tim Drake weren’t enemies, far from it. But being in the same academic sphere as him meant constant competition. It wasn’t outright hostile, but the two of you had a habit of accidentally one-upping each other in every single class.

“Oh, you got a 98 on the physics test?” Tim would say with a raised eyebrow. “Congrats! I got a 99. Must’ve been that question about Newton’s third law.” (That would’ve lowkey pissed me off oml🌚😭)

Your response? A shrug paired with: “Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. Maybe I’ll tutor you sometime.”

Cue Tim’s light laugh, which only fueled your competitive spirit.

UTTER CHAOS MOMENTS ── .✦

During a group project, the professor thought pairing you and Tim together was a great idea. Neither of you said anything, but your eyes screamed, This is going to be a mess.

Tim, casually: “I’ll handle the research and presentation. You can write the report.”

You, not missing a beat: “Wow, I didn’t realize you wanted to make us fail. I’ll handle the research, thanks.”

He smirked but relented, “Fine. But if the slides are ugly PowerPoint ones, I’m blaming you.”

In a debate, the teacher made the mistake of pitting you against Tim.

“Timothy Drake’s argument is valid—if you ignore all the facts.”

Tim: “Wow, I didn’t realize we were presenting opinions today. Did you leave your sources in the other room y/n?”

The entire class lived for these moments. (Yk when the teacher starts talking about they’re life and they forget the lesson, that’s vibe omg)

THE KIND SIDE ── .✦

Despite the playful jabs, Tim secretly respected you. The fact that someone could keep up with his relentless drive and still manage to make him laugh? It was impressive.

Once, you stayed late in the library, struggling with a particularly tough assignment. Tim noticed and, instead of teasing, sat down next to you with his laptop.

“You know, if you keep looking at that paper like it’s going to fight you, it just might,” he said, sliding his notes over.

“Wow, are you actually helping me?” you asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Don’t get used to it,” he quipped, but the grin on his face told you he didn’t mind.

THE REALIZATION ── .✦

The moment Tim realized he was falling for you was during a particularly heated trivia competition for a school fundraiser or smth. You buzzed in before him and answered correctly with such confidence that the crowd erupted in applause.

He just stared, dumbfounded, while you turned to him with a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Drake? Cat got your tongue?”

It hit him like a ton of bricks: he didn’t want to beat you. He just wanted to keep standing next to you, watching you shine and get to call you his too.

THE CONFESSION (WHICH WAS TOTALLY NOT REHEARSED 7X WHEN HE WAS ALONE.) ── .✦

Tim’s confession wasn’t grand or overly dramatic. Instead, it happened during one of your late-night study sessions. You were both hunched over a table, working through equations, when he blurted out:

“You know, this whole rivalry thing? It’s kind of ridiculous.”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Ridiculous how?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to keep competing with you. I want… I don’t know, to actually spend time with you. Without trying to prove I’m smarter.”

You blinked, surprised. “So you’re saying… you like me, is this a date?”

Tim groaned, cheeks pink. “Yes, obviously, I’m not just blabbing y/n.”

You leaned back, pretending to think. “Huh. This is going to be so fun to hold over your head.”

Tim laughed, shaking his head. “I take it back. You’re the worst.”

But when you smiled at him—actually smiled—he couldn’t help but think you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[igotanidea]

The great birthday mess up : Damian Wayne x Reader

Request: Yes! Reader planning a surprise party for Dami and him thining she's going to break up with him so he does it first.

Thank you anon! ;) made some changes to the requests hope you'll like it either way :)

***

„I don’t understand…” the words coming out of Damian’s mouth was the perfect example that hearing and getting were two completely different things.

“What’s there to not understand Y/N?. I’m breaking up with you. Sounds pretty simple even for your little brain.” He shrugged and turned to the window in their shared apartment so she wouldn’t see the strain on his face and clenched fists.

“But-“

“Please don’t go all whiny on me now. Just take my decision with dignity.

“I don’t understand—” she said again, as if that was the only sentence she could say in shock coursing in every cell in her body.

“Of course you don’t.” the tone he was giving her was ruthless, unlike the rapid beat of his heart calling her name with all the emotional power it could gather.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” as pathetic as it was, she almost downgraded herself to begging for an explanation with that sentence

“I’m just breaking up with you! Now will you leave me alone? I really do not want to see your face anymore.”

Well that was true, cause seeing her sad face was making his resolve crumble.

And It hurt. It hurt to tell her all those mean things.

Especially because Damian did not even wantto act like an asshole.

He did love her like a fool, he used to laugh at. If anything, he could just fall at her feet (as long as no one  saw) and beg to forgive him.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because she was the one who stopped loving him first.

***

Three weeks ago, “command center” at Wayne Manor.

“Ok, people, listen up! We’re on a mission of-“

“Is she for real?” Tim whispered turning to Dick who was holding back a laugh. If the boys knew that Y/N would take planning Damian’s 24th birthday in such a serious manner, almost putting on a war paint, one of them would bring a fancy camera to memorize it.

Instead it was only Jason taking photo after photo of the girl-in-command in her makeshift uniform and with indicator in hand.

“Get it off my face Todd!” she cried out trying to shove him off, but failing at dealing with the brick Jason was.

“Not a chance. You look ridiculous. And all that for the demon’s spawn? My god! He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Careful or I’ll think you’re telling me a compliment.”

“Compliment? No, no. It’s merely an observation of your poor choice in men. Both your boyfriend and those gathered here…”

“HEY!” Dick reacted almost immediately. No way he was going to let anyone, even his adoptive brother shit-talk him “I beg your pardon! I believe Y/N has an exquisite taste in men!”

“Just because you are here?” Jason mocked, giving Dick a smirk.

“Oh-my-god….” Y/N rolled her eyes throwing hands in the air “Could you please stop that…? I got a whole presentation about ideas for the party and –”

“A presentation?” While Dick and Jason did not give the girl any attention, at the mention of possible slides Tim became awfully animated. “What kind of slides? How many?”

“Oh-my-god…” She muttered again, this time covering face with hands gathering herself “God give me patience for those man-children.” One deep inhale and exhale on her part and she was ready to proceed. “SHUT UP!!” she yelled at the top of her lungs “SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!”

None of the men has ever seen her like that. Reddened on the face with fury in eyes and clenched fists. Clearly just a thought of Damian was making her spin out of control.

“Y/N--?”

“I’m about to tell you how it’s going to go from now on.” She hissed with an unobjectionable tone. “First, you’re going to sit on your pretty asses.” her gaze travelled to Dick knowing the attention in this particular moment will make him listen “Second, you’re going to stop throwing veiled insults.”

“But-“ Jason tried to chime in and object.

“I don’t fucking care if your inner Chandler Bing is coming to voice, you shut it or I will.”

“I’m not scared of you Y/N. You are just a –”

In a blink of an eye she was next to him, with one finger on his neck.

“You got about 100 vascular plexus in your body and so it happens I know how to put pressure on all of them.” She hissed before pulling back and taking on an innocent look “now, will you keep quiet, Jason?”

“I’m still not scared…” he muttered leaning on the doorframe with a frown and pout of a kicked puppy.

“Thank you very much. As for the plan, thirdly, you’ll stop asking me about my PowerPoint thing and actually watch it.”

“I’ve been dying to watch it the whole time!”

“ Shut up Tim!” came from three pair of mouths.

“Hey! Why am I being the only one yelled at by everyone? It’s harassment! Not fair!”

Y/N exhaled deeply, making a mental note to herself to never get those boys in men bodies in one room ever again and started explaining the details of her surprise party. Clearly, even despite knowing Damian’s family for a while she did not expect it would be this hard to get boys to cooperate.

However, per aspera ad astra, she managed to present her idea of a gift, the attractions and all the surprise party.

Obliging the boys under the  pain of sudden and unexpected death, or at least mutilation, to keep their mouths shut.  And since she was the girlfriend of a teenage assassin – this time no one dared to say a word.

***

Obviously the surprise party included working on it undercover. Therefore Y/N was spending more time with Jason, Dick and Tim to the detriment of her hours with Damian. Sneaking around. Dismissing or getting off lightly of answering his questions.

And he got suspicious, it was Damian Wayne Al-Ghul after all.

The young boy, spend hours and days fighting his natural urge to follow her when she was walking out the apartment with no explanation. Tie her to the chair, light the lamp in her face and force the information out of her.

But she was his girlfriend, not a villain.

So, getting too much into his head he came out to one plausible explanation – she was slowly letting him down. Not cutting the tie right away, because that was not who she was, but discouraging him.

“You’re going out again?” he asked, capably hiding the disappointment seeing her putting on shoes and jacket.  Quickly he put the bouquet of flowers he bought for her behind his back, almost crushing the innocent buds, while simultaneously wondering if calling off reservation at her fav restaurant for the fourth time this month would get him kicked out of the VIP list. “I thought we could have a night out and—“

“Sorry, babe.” She smiled apologetically pecking his lips, grabbing the bag and already one foot out the door. “I gotta go do this thing that I told you about!”

“What thing---”

“Don’t wait for me, I’ll be back late. See you around buddy!”

Buddy?!

Did she just--? Holy fucking shit. Now Damian was sure, she stopped loving him.

And since he couldn’t watch her walk out his life like that, it was him, who was going to walk out of hers.

***

She run.

She run as fast as she could, hoping that if by some miracle she got into Flash’s speed the last fifteen minutes conversation with Damian would just turn out to be a dream. Or maybe she’ll find herself back in time, making sure it never happened in the first place.

What did she ever do to him to be treated like that?

Working her ass off to prepare a party? Using all her abilities to get people to help? Miraculously finding Damian’s friends from the past and even getting Jon to attend?

Fuck this shit! Fuck the life!

And out of all day’s in year he choose his own birthday to break up with her!

Fucking piece of shit, demon’s spawn, undeserving of a single second of the last 6 years she gave him.

Jason was fucking right as tragic as it sounded.

She burst into the Wayne Manor, where the boys were hanging the last decorations and immediately started ripping the garlands off and throwing tableware off the table.

“Y/N!!” Dick jumped off the ladder and rushed her direction, but it was Jason who reached her first. Almost tackling her to the floor, fighting against the rage of nails, teeth and screams coming out of her mouth.

“Stop it!”

“LET FUCKING GO OFF ME! THIS PARTY AIN;T HAPPENING UNLESS IT’S OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“Better be careful with those words, cause in this family you get more than one chance at life.” Jason chuckled

“LET FUCKING GO!” she was struggling against his iron grip while Dick and Tim kneeled next to them

“No.” Jason responded calmly. “No, I’m not letting go off you.”

“None of us do, Y/N.” Tim added, moving a little bit closer, careful to not get a shoe in his face or something like that.

“What happened?” Dick asked calmly “come on, it can’t be that bad…”

“He broke up with me…” she sobbed. Not angry or furious anymore, but fully immersing in sadness. “Damian broke up with me…”

“HE WHAT?!” Dick yelled almost ready to start ripping off the decorations himself, successfully held back by Tim slapping him in the back of his head.

“She just told you. Can’t you see how shaken she is. And your making her say it again just for the sake of it? Get yourself together, Dick.”

“Sorry…”

“I don’t know what happened! I tried to talk and—”

“Talking to Damian about feelings, huh! Great idea Y/N.”

“GRAYSON!” Tim yelled slapping him again.

 “Sorry…”

“I hate to break it to you guys, but it seems like the man of the day has just arrived.” Tim moved to the window where he saw the reflection of the car lights.

“WHAT!?”

“Don’t yell at me! Bruce brought him! It was your plan Y/N!!”

“Oh so one time Bruce could be late he’s actually on time?!”

“Again-stop yelling at me!”

“He cannot see me here! Not like this! Not crying cause he’s going to think that I –“

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAMIAN!

“—care….”

The ending of the sentence was not supposed to escape her mouth, but not caring about her intentions it did. Maybe it was the shock of Bruce entering Wayne Manor with his youngest son, almost convinced the surprise party was already prepared and they could celebrate.

Instead the two were met with four people, caught like deer in the headlights, crying y/n, Jason on the floor holding her for comfort, enraged Dick and a little scared Tim without a plan.

As far away from their usual selves as possible.

“Are we too early or—” Bruce started, but before he could finish the sentence, the nearby ladder started to totter, hooking over the poorly hanged b-day banner and –

“NO!!” Dick yelled and rushed towards it, but tripping over Jason’s leg, fighting desperately to gain back balance and stepping on Y/N’s hand in the process. She yelled and it scared Tim who took a step back, crashing into Dick. Seeing all that Jason rushed to his feet trying to catch the material that was already falling down, dangerously close to the table and the candlestick. In the commotion no one noticed Alfred the cat, who obliviously entered the room, only to almost be flattened.

As the poor animal rushed to Y/N’s side, making her reach arms to give cat some resemblance of shelter, Dick finally managed to grab the banner.

“I got it! YES! Once more I am the one to save the day and--- AH!” he slipped on the floor cause clearly Alfred the cat left a remnants of his fear there, sliding all the way up to the table.

“NO!” Y/N yelled trying to save any of the dish that was already flying to her face.

“NO!” Jason cried out trying to snatch the decoration, getting tangled in it.

“NO!” Tim shrieked as the candled set the tablecloth on fire, that quickly spread to the leg of his trousers. And as the stimuli activated already downloaded plan in his brain, he reached for the extinguisher, profusely spraying everything (and everyone) with white powder.

Disaster.

Y/N, Dick, Jason and Tim were now all on the floor. Dirty, injured and/or humiliated, turned into giant, living, walking snowmen all on Bruce and Damian’s eyes.

“Not again….” Bruce whined.

“Happy birthday Damian!”

“SHUT UP GRAYSON!” the rest of three organizers yelled getting off the floor feeling worse than ever.

“What is all this?” Damian asked with a slight frown. “Or rather… what was all of this.”

“This is your—” Dick started

“AHHHHH!”

“Y/N, we know you are frustrated but please try to calm down—”

“This was supposed to be your stupid birthday party you idiot!” she yelled stumping towards Damian “Hear me?” he poke a finger into his chest. “Your. Stupid. Birthday. Party.”

“My- my what?” Damian stuttered grabbing her wrist only now realizing what day it was. Honestly after the morning break up with Y/N he couldn’t care less about the clock or calendar.

“Your—”

“Wait, wait. Hold back. Is this why you were acting so suspicious?”

“sus-suspicious? Is that what you thought?” her eyes grew wide once more and the steam to hit him blew off instantly

“You were just planning and preparing a party?” Damian asked realizing how much of an idiot he was.

“Yes”!

“So you didn’t stop loving me?” the hint of hope showed up in his eyes

“So you did not stop loving me?” Y/N repeated.

“How could I ever—”

She never gave him a chance to finish that sentence pressing her lips to his, not caring who was watching. And if anyone dared to tease, Damian’s katana would be used for something. And the knowledge of locations of nerve plexuses in the human body.

“Um….” Tim muttered feeling a little awkward in the situation. “Should we--?”

“Mhm. We should.” Dick agreed and noiselessly, like silently as befits a vigilante they fled the room.

***

Meanwhile, Damian and Y/n were sitting on the window sill amongst the mess of a b-day party.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way I planned—” she sighed.

“You kidding? It was the best thing ever.”

“Because you got the gift in clearing the misunderstanding between us?” she smiled and interlaced their fingers.

“no! because of watching my brothers making fools out of themselves.”

“Damian!” she patted his head.

“OUCH! Ok, fine! Fine! It was because I got you back!”

“This was forced, such confession doesn’t count!” she feigned offence.

“Well technically, we never really broke up, so I couldn’t get you back.”

“Well, technically-“ she tried to find a smart way of the situation, but he cut her off.

“Well, non-technically, you got cake in your hair. And on your face And in your lips. And I haven’t even tried that treat. So how about we stop talking so I could get a chance at it?”

He liked the cake.

A lot.

@keidylovestacos @nocturnal-onlooker - I'm taking the liberty of tagging you guys :)

[pshbites]

COWBOY LIKE ME - park sunghoon (teaser)

pairing → sunghoon x reader

synopsis → fresh college graduate, park sunghoon decides to take a 5 month long vacation with some of his closest friends to northern italy. his expectations? bike rides, gelatos, his best friend and designated chef trying a multitude of recipes, and late night swims. the reality? falling deeply in love with the girl who lives with her grandparents next door.

genre & warnings → coming of age, summer au, mentions of the UK school system, based in europe (duh), strangers to friends to a secret third thing, heavy feelings, use of alcohol and drugs, mental health problems, running away, yn has an avoider attachment, loverboy sunghoon, more tbd.

cast → all of enha, kazuha and yunjin from lesserafim, mentions of txt, much more side characters.

est wc → 20 - 25k (?) currently at 15k so we'll see

authors note → hai guys, sooo this is smth i wrote this summer as u can see it is HEAVILY based off of cmbyn ermm so i guess just enjoy! reply here if you wanna be added to the taglist and pls like n reblog <3

SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN ITALY, 2022.

you and sunghoon laid on the grass next to one another, bodies just inches apart. the moon was high in the sky and it was another one of those quiet nights with him, you adored these nights. you could hear your friends laughing in the house, but it still just felt like it was just you two and the rest of the world and your respective worries just faded away. 

sunghoon turned his body to face you, his elbow propping him up slightly. you turned your body, now face to face with him. his hand reached over, brushing hair out of your face. his eyes were looking into yours like they usually did, but now they were holding something back. “what?” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t the fear of being too loud, it was the content of your conversations being strictly between the two of you, no one else’s. 

that was the beauty in these moments you had with sunghoon, they were sacred. as if it were a child hiding candy. the two of you weren’t secretive in the fear of being caught or teased, it was to keep whatever you had, yours. the content that no one else besides sunghoon could know your in and outs, and same with him. it was like your relationship was a question mark to everyone else around you and the two of you intended to keep it that way. 

sunghoon didn’t say anything for a couple seconds, his hand still in your hair, now moving down to cup your cheek in his hand. his thumb grazing the apples of your cheeks. during all this his eyes never left yours. he finally sighed out. “call me by your name and i’ll call you by mine” he breathed out, his voice soft but words as hard as bricks. 

“what?” you repeated, smiling softly at his words. something about this moment between the two of you was so intimate that nothing could tear you from one another. his hand now rested on your waist, rubbing it up and down. somehow you were closer to him than you were before. “you heard me.” sunghoon whispered back, lost in your eyes. 

he shifted a little closer to you, leaning forward so his lips were against your ear. “sunghoon, sunghoon, sunghoon” he whispered, lips kissing the shell of your ear afterwards. each time he said his name there was a pause in between it. he moved back a little, now smiling. you could hear your heart beating in your ears as you smiled back. 

you moved closer, leaning forward so your lips were against his ear. “yn, yn, yn” you whispered back, following the same rhythm he did. you leaned back, eyes never leaving his. his hand reached down to yours and he intertwined your fingers together with his, holding you tightly as if you were going to disappear in a matter of seconds. 

you laid on your back, your cheeks starting to hurt because of how hard you were smiling. you felt closer to sunghoon now than you had this entire summer. he moved closer, head resting on your shoulder as he laid on his back as well. your hands still intertwined because of the fear eating both you alive. 

the fear that this won’t be forever.