#IM SORRY THIS GOT LONG the bois got carried away..

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you sat a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame, and revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly drawn, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you— I will soil your hand if you persist—�� But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing from his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic notions.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, wearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re— You’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

[d3stinyist1red]

out of everyone on yandere town, yan cowboy is definitely my favourite <3

YESSS IKR HES SO CUTESYY

yan cowboy who wants you to ride him badly

yan cowboy who first meets you when you stumble upon his farm, literally the cows were gonna jump ur ass until he popped up

"hey there, sweets! What'cha doin' around here?" He asks, looking at you with a tilted head as he pat the cow's head. "U-uh, sorry i just-" you got interrupted by the cowboy laughing at ya.

"ma, why do you seem so nervous? It's alright!" He said grinning down at you, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and introduces himself.

yan cowboy who is now ur buddy, talking to you every second of his fucking day like damn lil bro chill

yan cowboy who you began seeing everyday, coincidences piling up. No matter where you went, he was there, lingering just at the edge of your vision.

yan cowboy who wants you to ride with him and his horse everyday, holding onto your waist as he leads the horse on where to go, your back to his front, slowly rubbing himself against you.

yan cowboy who is a possessive and jealous freak. Any interaction you have with others, specifically other men, makes his jaw clench and his eyes narrow. He might not say anything at first, but you’ll notice how quiet he has gotten.

yan cowboy who confronts you about the man you were hanging out with earliar

"Hey darlin', what was that man tellin' you? Why were you talkin' to him? Do you think hes better than me? Sweets, im sorry. Darlin' lets talk about this, okay?"

"boy i literally just asked him wheres the nearest wingstop"

"why? are you hungry? Because I have some meat for you could eat-"

yan cowboy who makes you the center of his world, if you dont talk to him hes GONNA AND WILL have a bad day, grumpy and pissed off until you talk to him

yan cowboy who has a garden his mother owns, and always gives you flowers, your favorite ones

yan cowboy who literally every woman wants bc hes fine asf, strong, and BRO HES SWEET TOO LIKE HELLO??? but he only needs you. Whenever hes talking with another woman, he always drifts his eyes away from her to try to find you, not paying attention to whatever the woman was saying

yan cowboy who literallys gets so hard whenever he sees you bend down to get some strawberries you planted, already knowing he was gonna fist himself inside his car

yan cowboy who always gives you handwritten notes

"hello n/n! I might not be able to see you today because of my mother telling me ive been slacking off since ive been leaving early from farming. But darling, you know I can't stay away from you for so long! I need to see you! Anyway baby, I left you some cash, treat yourself, aight babes? - Your lovely cowboy <3"

yan cowboy who sees you growing some plants in the hot sun and immediatly panics, he runs over to you with an umbrella. A UMBRELLA BRO

"darlin'! Its so hot out here for you to be outside! Come inside, love!"

"bro ive only been outside for 3 minutes"

"3 minutes too long! Now cmon and rest! Ill do the work, lovely!"

yan cowboy who helps you when you barely started growing plants and stuff, guiding you with his hands ontop of yours, his chin on your shoulder.

yan cowboy who sees you carrying a heavy bale of hay, and immediately scolds you

You wipe the sweat from your brow as you lift the bale of hay, determined to carry your weight on the farm. Your cowboy always helps you with everything like bro i could be independent too hoe. You’ve seen him do this like a thousand times, and you’re confident you can handle it too bc ur a bad bitch period

But before you can take more than a few steps, a shadow falls over you, and you feel a firm hand on your arm. You glance up, and lowkey you were scared it was gonna be schoolboy69 lowkey but nah their infront of you was your cowboy, eyes narrowed in a mix of worry and frustration. He was practically glaring at you, mad that you picked up something without his help, even if you picked up something as heavy as a bag of cookies he would be mad and see red like alpha dawg sigma 4000

“What do you think you’re doin’, darlin’?” His voice is low, but you still heard the irritation in his voice.

“I’m just helping out,” you say, trying to brush it off as no big deal. “It’s just a bale of hay, I'll can handle it.” You said shrugging, about to walk past him until you felt the heavy hay get off your shoulders in a quick manner.

that lil bitch took the hay and walked away but not before blowing u a kiss and saying "i love u n/n, get ready for tonight bc imma need u to blow my back OUT-"

yan cowboy who always is complimenting you, doesnt even matter if your in ur christmas pjs from 2016 he will say "id lowkey eat you out in that"

yan cowboy who is ur obsessed boy who luvs you more than he should<3

yan cowboy who is ur such cowboy who couldnt be more lucky to have you with him! <333

GUYS IM BACK FROM THE DEAD BITCHESSS

GUYS YALL COULD SEND REQUESTS BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A LITTLE BIT BC IM STILL WORKING ON OTHER DRAFTS LIKE THESE

GUYS WHO HAS YAN WINDERBREAKER MANHWA BOOKS PLS I NEED JAY JO AND OWEN

[vanoilette]

୨ᰍ sypnosis. beach day w the main four ! — going to the beach with them.

disclaimers. light swearing, suggestive content.

notes. ugh just got swarmed with tons of homework :( + two upcoming ken fics !

eric cartman.

literally like a guard dog.

everytime he sees someone staring at you for two seconds too long he takes it into account, and attacks them with insults. because as he puts it, the view is only for his eyes.

is drooling all over you but hides it, stares holes into the back of your head, and other places.

besides that he treats you as usual, but with his own kind of attention—such as calling you pretty, his queen. etc. [ im sorry i cant help but make cartman a mix of a bastard and simp ]

asked you to put sunscreen on him, mostly just chills on the beach instead of actually swimming.

sort of follows around everywhere you go when hes not sitting down.

falls asleep while hes laying on the beach chair and and gets a sunburn, is crying to you the next day how much it burns.

screams when he sees his skin peels.

back to the actual beach part, he always holds your hand, even when laying down, as long as your beside or near him at least.

is mean to almost everyone there, especially if their “in his way.”

kenny mccormick.

is all over you, never lets you get even a breath of space.

opposite of cartman, and actually begs you to swim with him.

lets be honest, hes putting his face in your chest, no matter how small or big they are, he just loves em’

doesn’t even mind when other people are looking at you, he loves showing you off because he loves showing other people what they can’t get.

swipes drinks off the bar when other people aren’t looking.

if someone flirts with you or him, he makes it very clear that he is not interested, and if your the one being flirted with he is standing right behind you.

although, if your not able enough to stand up for that, he’ll gladly deal with it for you.

he loves swimming but if you offer to lay down with him, he’ll pass on swimming, just the feeling of being with you is much more of a rewarding feeling then feeling the hot sunlight on him and cold waters.

brings a bunch of convenience store snacks so you don’t have to buy any of the ones they serve there.

calls you his belladonna

kyle broflovski.

brings tons of things, a canopy, chairs, snacks, sunscreen, etc.

insists on putting on sunscreen, puts it on you aswell : ]

even if he is a pretty pale guy.

carries you almost everywhere, he treats you especially special because he doesn’t want you to lift a finger or worry your pretty little head.

is in between, hes fine with swimming and chilling, its up to you.

a bit off topic but he loves when you call him pretty boy, it can get him to do anything, just something i wanted to point out.

if you just so happen to praise him for being so helpful, or taking cafe of you the entire day, he acts as if its not that big of a deal. As humbly as possible.

swimming with him is fun because i feel hes a bit competitive with it. he tries to swim all super far away.

remember that episode where the waterpark floods with pee? yeah, thats what terrifies him.

that takes him a while to get in the water.

stan marsh.

frankly; was not his idea to go to the beach, but once he goes he’s running straight to the water.

the type to hold his breath under water just because.

probably falls asleep when he does lay down after all the running and swimming, or shoves food down his throat.

after his nap wakes up with sand in his mouth and freaks the fuck out.

doesn’t even try to hide it, he straight up swipes drinks off the bar and if someone mentions anything—he doesn’t even spare them a glance.

brings one of the digital cameras and takes photos of you two.

got chased by a dog.

forgets that sunscreen exists and gets sunburned terribly.

as soon as he gets home he tapes the photos on his walls.

mostly a chill guy at the beach.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

virgin ethan being in his first relationship with you and being so inexperienced. before you he had never even held hands romantically before. when you kissed him for the first time he almost came in his pants. he’s so easily worked up and so sensitive, and you’re constantly finding new ways to take advantage of that.

the two of you were sitting in his bed, watching some obscure horror movie on his laptop, when you started to get bored. he was entirely engrossed in the movie, but you were just sitting there and staring at him, dirty thoughts taking over your mind.

you adjusted your position and inched your way closer, leaning against him. your mouth soon found his neck, pressing light teasing kisses all over the sensitive skin. you smirked to yourself when you felt him tense up beneath you.

“w-what are you doing?” ethan asked, his voice quivering.

“nothing,” you replied, continuing to kiss his neck.

wanting to test the waters, you lightly bit down on his neck, causing the most erotic noise he had ever made to fall from his lips. you stretched a leg over his lap, moving to straddle him so you could get a better angle.

with the movie now long forgotten, you leaned in to kiss him. nothing you hadn’t done with him before, but soon it became more desperate. hungry. ethan felt his cock twitch as the kiss continued, your hands burying themselves in his hair and pulling him closer.

you tugged lightly, making him whimper beneath you. you knew right then and there that you would do absolutely anything to get him to make that sound again. you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip, slipping it inside his mouth once he parted his lips, deepening the kiss.

your hips started to subtly grind down against his, and you were now aware of the very prominent bulge in ethan’s sweatpants. he whimpered once more, his voice breaking slightly, and he moved his hands to grip your hips, holding you in place as he began to thrust up against you.

you pulled away from the kiss, desperately gasping for air, and you smirked at the sight below you. ethan’s eyes were shut tightly, his head tilted back and his lips parted, small grunts and whimpers falling from his mouth. he didn’t even seem fully aware that he was practically humping you from below, holding you in place as his hips moved desperately against you.

only when a loud moan slipped from his mouth and he through his head back in ecstasy, spilling his load into his boxers, did he realize what had happened. his face instantly flushed red as he looked up at you nervously, almost like he was scared that he was about to get scolded.

“i- im sorry! i- i didn’t mean to-” he blurted out, seeming both very nervous and utterly embarrassed.

“shh…” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair comfortingly. “don’t apologize, my sweet boy. you did nothing wrong.”

“but i- i-”

you nodded, still smiling sweetly. “i know, baby. you came in your pants. it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

you leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “in fact, i found it insanely hot.”

this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away, oops -_-

tags: @wenvierismycomfort @hyeyulove

if your name is crossed out, it means i can’t tag you!

[i-love-ptv]

Please Don’t Think I’m Insecure ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

You navigate your relationship with Rafe, but you can never escape that green-eyed monster.

Wc: 2,100

Angst, bit of comfort at the end?

An: First, sorry to the brunette girls, but im kinda projecting rn. BUT YAYYYY I WROTE ABOUT RAFE FOR THE FIRST TIME! I randomly got a burst of writing energy while listening to ethel cain (this has nothing to do w any of her songs, at least not purposefully if it somehow relates idk)

Feedback ALWAYS appreciated my loves!! xxx

You couldn’t help but feel envious of the brunette girls of the Outer Banks.

You found that they carry a different type of beauty, one that you couldn’t compare to.

Every time you glance and see your darling boyfriend, Rafe, being hounded by these girls, you swear you feel a piece of your soul being ripped from your body.

You and Rafe’s relationship wasn’t always smooth sailing. In fact, the two of you had broken up before, when he chose his drugs over you.

Every party, you’d see him snort lines, roll his blunts, and nearly drown himself in all sorts of liquor.

It killed you to leave him, but you remembered exactly why you decided to put the ultimatum on the table when he called you a “controlling, insecure bitch.”

You had never packed your bags faster.

You would stalk Topper and Kelce on instagram for months, just so you could search every background of every photo for the boy you were in love with.

You occasionally saw Rafe around the island, sometimes you’d stare a second too long, and he’d catch your wandering eyes. You never held eye contact, so you never saw how he’d frown at you. He wished he could read your mind, just to see if you think about him, like how he thinks about you.

You briefly remembered looking at your bedside table clock, after being abruptly awoken by thunks, on your window.

It was 2:33 in the morning.

At first, you ignored it, thinking it was just the rain picking up. But the thunk, thunk, thunk only continued, getting harder each time.

You slowly approached your window, knowing that if needed, you could easily run to your dad, and have him pull out his gun to deal with whatever was plaguing your slumber.

You quickly yanked your curtains open and slid the creaky window open. You really needed to have your parents deal with that.

You immediately looked down and saw none other than Rafe Cameron himself.

He was soaked to the bone, crouching in the grass, you assumed he was looking for more things to throw.

“Rafe..?” You whisper-shouted down at him.

He looked up at you like a deer in headlights, this allowed you to notice his blistering red face, and his semi-glossy eyes.

This was the first time that you saw his freshly buzzed hair in person, rather than from a distance.

You would’ve been lying if you said he didn’t look devilishly handsome.

“Jeez peach….You really are a heavy sleeper.” Rafe said with a watery chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

He hoped you didn’t notice the sadness in his voice, and if you did he at least hoped you wouldn’t mention it.

“God, Rafe, why didn’t you just come to the front door like a normal person.” You sighed, and with that, you closed the window and curtains.

Rafe’s eyes widened, his breath picked up, and he felt his stomach drop.

He rubbed at his eyes angrily, wiping away his salty tears.

He was too busy in his head, going over how ‘stupid and idiotic’ he felt for thinking you’d even consider taking him back after what he put you through a year prior, to notice you walking up to him.

“Rafe…Hun, please come inside…You’re going to get sick at this rate.” You muttered, rubbing your hand on his shoulder to provide an ounce of comfort.

You heard him gasp softly, but he refused to look into your eyes, that makes you frown.

You were outside in the pouring rain, in a robe and slippers, coaxing him into your house, and he couldn't even look you in the eyes?

You knew it wasn't right to feel this way, you thought it was that grudge that you held for what he did to you deep down.

Your mind was reeling, thoughts flying around like a flock of birds in the wind.

You didn’t know how to feel, seeing your ex-boyfriend, who hurt you so badly, outside of your house with tears in his eyes.

His tears.

His tears make you think of all the times he’d come over to your house, after seeking solace away from his father, who’d decided to pick another argument with the boy.

He would lay his head in your lap as you played with his long, silky brown strands of hair.

You would wipe his tears every single time he needed you.

It was always you who was there for him.

It was always you who’d understood him the most out of anyone on the damn island, hell, out of anyone on the entire planet.

You couldn’t help but think about all the times he’d lash out on you, while you’re going to retrieve a towel for him, and a fresh pair of his old clothes from your drawer. You had never given them back, you wanted a piece of your old, sweet Rafe, since it felt like that part of him had vanished.

You came back and saw him standing idly near the front door, lingering, you could tell he was too nervous to sit without permission, not wanting to overstep.

You hand him the clothes, he immediately recognizes his old ‘Kildare Athletics’ shirt, but of course, he decides not to mention it.

He had begun to strip in front of you, you quickly turned around, muttering a “Jesus Christ…” to yourself.

You heard rustling, then eventually heard a soft, “Done” escape from Rafe’s cracked lips.

You sat him on the couch, while you put his wet clothes in the bathroom; that was a task to deal with another day.

You couldn’t bring yourself to sit next to him, not trusting your sleepy judgment to keep you from babying him like you want to, like you used to.

You broke the silence by whispering, “Why are you here, Rafe? It’s so late…”

“God, it’s so weird to hear you call me by my name, normally it was always “baby,” or “puddin’.”

“Please Rafe, I’m not in the mood.” You exclaimed softly, your resolve slowly breaking down.

Rafe toyed with the gold signet ring on his finger, deciding what to say.

“I miss you peach…nothing’s the same without you. And I know..Before you say anything, I know I fucked up. I think about that everyday. I have since that day…” He paused, trying to find his words.

You looked at him, your eyes beckoning him to continue.

He noticed a glint in your eye, almost looking like hope, and it made him break down.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far..Uhm, give me a second please..” He was embarrassed, you could tell.

“I don’t get it Rafe, I thought you loved me…How could you do that to us..?” You choked on your words, feeling the tears start to build.

Rafe shot up at this, “I do!” He exclaimed, immediately regretting it when he remembered that your parents were just upstairs.

Your cat, Daphne, crawled into his lap, being startled awake by his yell.

He scratched behind her ears and continued, “Of course I do. I always did. I know I didn’t make it obvious, and I barely showed it, but I promise I did. Seeing you walk out that door made me realize just how much I love you.”

“I still don’t understand…” You murmur as you pick at the sleeve of your fluffy, cloud-like robe.

“I….I got scared, baby. Things between us were getting so..Real, I guess. I found myself thinking about you every second of the day, wondering where you were, thinking about who you were with, if that idiot JJ was still flirting with you like he used to..” Rafe gulps.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone, so when it kept growing, I panicked, and ran. I turned to coke, and booze to try and gather myself. I felt pathetic, knowing that my day revolved on how yours went.”

Rafe’s shoulders shook, and you grabbed his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his, gripping him tightly.

That night, you told Rafe how you felt, then, and when the two of you were together. The conversation was hard on both of you, but by the time the sun was about to rise, you decided to give him another chance. Telling him how you wanted to take it slow at first, to make sure that you wouldn’t get hurt again.

Rafe flinched at this, feeling disgusted, knowing that he had made you build your walls up again.

Which brings you to today, you had gone off to find a water bottle somewhere in the crowded house.

When you finally were able to locate a few, and you walked back outside.

That’s when you saw it.

Rafe was talking to her.

Sofia.

It was no surprise to everyone that the two had dated months prior to you and Rafe getting back together.

They were the talk of the island, of course you had heard.

But they weren’t together anymore, Rafe came back to you.

So why do you still feel those anxious butterflies in your stomach? They feel like moths, flying around recklessly inside you.

You feel like you’re on the brink of vomiting.

A part of you wondered if he still wanted her,

If he got back together with you, then there was a possibility of him wanting to get back together with another one of his exes.

You want to confront the problem head-on, really! But the thought of doing so makes your legs feel like jelly in your flip-flops.

You turn around, quickly walking back inside the crowded house, searching every corner for a place to find a moment of quiet.

After hearing three different couples doing things they probably shouldn’t in a bedroom that wasn’t theirs, you found a small hall closet.

It felt weird, sitting in a somewhat cramped closet, begging for everyone and everything to just go away.

You’re sitting in the dark when you see a flash that lights up the closet: it’s your phone.

You look at it, the blaring sight of a text from ‘My Baby! 💞’.

You ponder for a moment, then decide to ignore it.

You hate feeling like this, feeling like you can be so easily replaced by someone you know is prettier than you.

Sofia was perfect; she was loved by all of the older folk at the country club. She carried herself with nothing but confidence. You wish you could feel the same.

Suddenly, your shorts start to feel like they’re two sizes too small, and your shirt shrinks by the second.

You wanted to be perfect.

Why couldn’t you be perfect?

Did you want it for yourself? Or do you want it for Rafe.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear shouts throughout the hallway.

You glance at your phone and notice that over half an hour has gone by.

“Peach?! Peach, baby, where are you?!” You hear, and you feel yourself cower deeper into the closet.

The last thing you want is for Rafe to find you in here, crying like a little girl, wishing to be perfect for just a moment.

You hear the string of curses getting closer and closer to you.

You try to conceal your hiccups, by holding your hand over your mouth.

This makes it worse, you can’t catch your breath, but you don’t remove your hand.

Your head is pounding. Your chest hurts.

You quickly start sobbing, just wanting to disappear.

Without warning, the closet door is yanked open.

There you see your boyfriend Rafe, looking slightly out of breath, almost as if he was urgently trying to find you.

Light fills the room, and his arms quickly wrap around your frame.

You grip onto him harshly, trying to focus on the smell of his rich cologne against his skin.

Rafe pulls away slightly, looking at you with worried eyes that scan your frame.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, peach! Where have you been?! What’s going on?!” Rafe babbled.

You try to answer him, but only a pathetic squeak leaves your throat. You sob harder at this.

Rafe knows that it’ll be impossible to try and get anything out of you while you’re in this state.

So he continues to hold you, rubbing circles up and down your back. Soft hushes leave his lips as he tries to help you regain your breath.

Rafe knows he wasn’t a good boyfriend in the past, and it was always you who’d be there for him.

Now it was his turn to be here, for you.

sorry if the ending is rushed cuties, I couldn’t think of anything else and i wanted to get smth out for y’all😭

[sqtorux]

sweeter than sweet!

ꨄ︎ summary. [req!] candy necklaces are meant to be eaten anyway, no matter how pretty.

ꨄ︎ desc. fluffy fluff; hc of jjk boys (yuji, megumi, yuta and toge)

yuji loves the idea when you bring up making candy necklaces; he always adores every intimate time spent with you. colourful rings of candy spawled onto the table, carefully set up according to their colours. the both of you got carried away making the them though— chatting about anything and everything while snacking on several candies which were supposed to go through the string–you find them melting in your mouth instead. in the end, only one necklace was completed and yuji lets you wear it until the both of you decided to just finish eating it altogether. that was why it was made for after all right?

megumi smiled to himself when he saw you wearing a candy necklace you got as a freebie from supporting a little kid's lemonade stand. he asks about it immediately because he notices every detail of you. it might seem innocent—the way his gaze travelled from your eyes to your neck where the necklace rests but he had other plans in mind. his fingers wrap themselves around the necklace, gently tugging on it and bringing your faces just inches apart. "seems sweet. can i have a taste?" you nod but megumi makes no move towards the necklace. his lips land on yours.

yuta was the one who suggested making it yourselves actually. he thought it would be a cute date idea and he was right. he came prepared too, with the colourful candies laid out on a small plate, he strings them together one after the other. his furrowed brows upon concentrating earns a chuckle from you — his expression melts into one of a big shy grin. giggles and soft laughters fill the room. who said playing with candy is just for kids anyway?

toge gives you an unamused look when you ramble on about a very lame joke along the lines of your suggested activity being candies and not rice ball ingredients. "you're not going to hold one of these and say ‘salmon cod roe’ or something right?" your snort only makes his eyes roll. you should really be thankful for his cursed speech because if he could talk, he'd end you in a sentence.

but since toge is so considerate he pops one candy in his mouth instead, savoring the sweet taste. you're not done yet teasing him though, "does it taste... like kelp?" you snicker. he's had enough of your lame puns so he pulls you closer by your arms and without giving you time to think, he crashes his lips into yours, the candy travels from his mouth to yours with an expert ease as he pulls away with a smirk. "tuna" he says at your dumbstruck expression, popping another candy into his mouth.

* if you want the meaning for toge's safe words/onigiri glossary used here, you can read them as follows:

salmon cod roe: to grab attention; "hey look here"

kelp: greeting

tuna: focus

*a/n: this has been in my drafts for far too long, almost a month which also explains the blue theme but i finally FINALLY got around to finishing this. to the anon who requested this, i can't reply to your ask right now since you also requested another one which is an smau. i will link this and that one to your ask when im done with it!! thankyou for requesting and for being so patient with me. im so sorry i made you wait this long.

[maxlarens]

ok so i had an idea for the rb photographer fic if you're up for it

first of all im like in love w ur fics i love em all

and nextly, listen to this..

charles isn't single but manwhore carlos probably is?

he flirts w our photographer and makes max jealous?? roped in by danny ofc to get them together?? what do you think??

anyway have a great day! <33333

UM OKAY THANK YOU! max x rbphotographer!reader are literally everything to me and i am SOO thrilled to have gotten this request. very in character for daniel to get everyone involved in scheming even tho max has told him not to😭 love it so much😇😇 hope u enjoy and i am SOOOO sorry this took so long xx

MV: tonight (i wish i was your boy)

pairing(s): max verstappen x redbull photographer!reader

word count: 1.9k+

Max likes to think he’s not a jealous person.

Max likes to think that— but it doesn’t mean it’s true. Daniel would and has, argued that Max is an abnormally jealous person. In the sense that Max doesn’t like to share. Doesn’t like other people playing with his toys. Not that he thinks of you (or Daniel) as his toy— that’s absurd. He’s a jealous person, not some territorial asshole with an anger problem. (Okay, sometimes he has an anger problem. He’s been working on it. It hardly crops up anymore, but he’s not territorial).

He is, again, bad at sharing, and also uniquely used to getting what he wants.

It’s not because he’s got a crush on you. Despite what Daniel would like to assume. It’s just that you’re meant to be his friend. You’re here with him, because of him. He’s meant to be able to hover around you all night, getting carried away as he tries to explain something meaningless while you give him that half-grin that you don’t even realise you’re doing most of the time. He’s the one who’s supposed to be putting his hand on your back, and leaning in to ask if you’d like another drink—

Not Carlos.

Definitely not Carlos.

(Well, at least it’s not Charles).

Instead, Max is standing next to an overeager Lando at the DJ deck, gripping his drink so hard that he’s mildly concerned the glass will shatter to pieces in his hand. Actually, that’s not such a bad idea to get your attention. Maybe if that happens you’ll stop looking at Carlos Sainz Jr with big googly eyes and you’ll come nurse his hand or whatever it is you’re supposed to do in pathetic little fantasies like the one he’s entertaining. You’re not really the nursing type though, you’re more prone to start freaking out and calling everyone on the Red Bull team to tell them that Max has irreparably damaged his hand.

Max stops entertaining that particular fantasy.

Daniel’s not here, he’s gone home to Australia for a few weeks and skipped out on this weird little grid (+ friends) party that Charles is throwing. This is good and this is bad for Max. On one hand Daniel is not here to rib him about his half-admitted crush on you, on the other hand Daniel is not here to distract him from his half-admitted crush on you. There’s Lando of course, who can be just as good in the distraction department, but it’s not quite the same. 

Lando doesn’t quite know about the raging crush, which is probably for the better. He’s been around when Lando’s tried to set up Oscar before and that was an absolute unmitigated disaster.

“Hey man,” speaking of Oscar, “You good?”

Max frowns and then half turns to look at Oscar who’s now hovering next to Lando with a fruity little drink in hand, “Yeah mate,” he answers, confused.

Oscar gets this weird little micro expression on his face that Max wouldn’t usually take any note of— his forehead creases, he raises a disbelieving eyebrow— but the skepticism grates at Max a little, leaves him wondering.

“Why?”, he caves.

Oscar shakes his head, shrugs, “You're kind of staring down Carlos."

Max's mouth falls open, just a little. He is not. His eyes flit to Lando unconsciously for confirmation before he has a chance to defend himself against what are frankly untrue allegations from Oscar. But Lando is already shrugging, making a face that says he has been.

Fuck. Max frowns. And doesn't say anything.

Better to stay quiet and look moody than to admit anything to these two. Total menaces. Well, no that's Lando. Oscar might be helpful. Still, Max isn't going to admit anything. Daniel and apparently Charles knowing about it is more than enough.

Their hushed conversation behind him fades into the background as Max turns again to look at you and Carlos— and alright he gets it now. There's definitely a different kind of set to his jaw, a scowl on his lips as he watches Carlos put his hand on your shoulder.

There is something in his gut. Something sick. The feeling he gets when he's on track and the car starts sliding, the wheels locking up. When hears the va-rum of a car go by, sees something that isn't wide open space in front of him. Something like panic starts to climb up his throat. He knows he shouldn't be this bothered by you and another person, but he can't get rid of this voice in the back of his head that says you might like Carlos more than him. That you might stop hanging around Max, texting him at all hours of the day with photos of your food or random questions, waiting for him in the garage after sessions and not just because you've got to take pictures of him, and going out for food on 'friend dates' as you've taken to calling them.

If you and Carlos... okay no, Max doesn't even want to think about it.

He starts walking over, trying to smooth his face into something less intimidating as he goes. He turns it into a strained, mouth-closed smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He directs it at Carlos.

There's a glint in Carlos' eyes that Max doesn't like the look of.

"Hi Max," he says, flashing his white teeth, he gestures to you, "I was just getting to know your lovely friend here."

Alright. Max understands instantly. This has Daniel's name written all fucking over it. Max's fake smile falls, turning into a flat look that he levels at Carlos. He's trying not to scowl because he doesn't want you to catch on to anything, but it's not easy. His phone is burning a hole in his pocket, he doesn't care if it's the middle of the night in Australia right now, he's itching to call Danny and ask him what the fuck he is thinking pulling something like this from 14,000 kilometers away?

"Mm," Max hums, unimpressed, unable to fake pleasantries even for your sake, "Great."

You look at him, eyebrows raised a little incredulously at his tone. There's slight amusement there too, he thinks, as he returns your look. You squint a little, as if to say, don't give me that look, Max Verstappen. He can feel himself smiling, the corner of his mouth lifting with ease even though the object of his anger still has his stupid hand on your shoulder.

He can't help himself when he reaches for your elbow, asks, "D'you wanna get a drink?"

You bite down on the edge of your smile, "Sure, Maxie."

You turn and say something to Carlos that he doesn't listen to. Partly because he doesn't care, partly because the sound of you saying Maxie is playing on a loop in his head, like it always does whenever you use the nickname. Which is more often than not. God, he loves it. Maxie Maxie Maxie. It sounds so syrupy sweet coming from your mouth. Smothered in affection. You're the only person, bar his mum and sister that he lets use it. Daniel sometimes, but Daniel would say it regardless, the menace that he is.

"Max," you say, hand on his bicep, thumb smoothing back and forth there, "Where'd you go?"

Max blinks. Carlos is gone now.

"Hm, no, nowhere," you frown, so he says, "Just a bit tired."

This seems to satisfy you. You slip an arm into the crook of his, linking them together as you tug him to the bar. You order him a G&T and yourself a glass of wine before the two of you head out onto the balcony where it's far quieter. Less people, less chatter. Max prefers it like this, with no one there to get in the way of your attention on him, his on you. He thinks you prefer it too.

He hopes you do at least.

You sip your wine, Max’s eyes linger on the line of your neck, the way your fingers curl around the glass, how your eyes glitter in the early afternoon sun.

“What was that earlier?”, you gesture inside, raising your eyebrows again, “With Carlos?”

Max laughs nervously without meaning to, “Uh, what do you mean?”

The ‘something sick’ is back in his gut again. He hopes you buy his nonchalance, but doesn’t feel confident you will. You know him too well. That’s his fault.

You sigh, “I mean the dick measuring contest, Maxie.”

Maxie. Maxie.

Then he finally registers your words around the loop of your voice in his head, he guffaws, almost choking on his drink, “The dick measuring contest!?”

“Yes,” you hiss, leaning forward on your stool, “Yes, Max. I’m not an idiot, you were getting territorial.”

Max blinks. Max feels red creeping up his neck. Max feels butterflies and maybe a chainsaw in his stomach.

“Wha—”, he tries again, “I—”

His mouth doesn’t appear to be working. Maybe because he’s not sure what on earth he’s supposed to say. What do you even mean? Are you trying to say that you know he was jealous of Carlos? That you know he has feelings for you? Or are you just referencing the fact that he’s weirdly territorial of his friends sometimes? What is he supposed to say in response to any of it? He can’t figure it out for the life of him.

Then you’re blushing you’re blushing and you’re saying, “You don’t have to worry, Max. You’re my favourite person here.”

Okay, alright, what the fuck does that mean? God. Max hates this. If you were any other girl he’d have asked you out literally years ago. But because you’re you and you’re his best friend besides Daniel, he can’t ask you out. He has to smother his feelings into something platonic because he cannot bear the idea of losing you.

Despite his better judgment telling him not to, Max asks, “Really?”

You hum, “Really, really.”

It happens in slow motion, it must. Or at least that’s how Max replays it in his head every night before he goes to sleep. You reach forward and put your hand over his, fingers on his wrist, thumb drawing a pattern on his upturned palm.

Then you say, in a way that he can’t figure out for the life of him, “Love you, Maxie.”

Chills run down the length of his spine, that chainsaw starts up again in his stomach. Love you, Maxie. He feels sick— like he might word vomit the entirety of his feelings for you right there and then. Instead, he forces himself to smile. Closed-mouth, eyes crinkled.

“Mm, yeah, love you,” he says back, his voice cracking as he tries to make it sound normal and platonic and not wracked with nerves.

You smile, warm, beaming and showing your teeth, like he’s made your day infinitely better by just saying those words. As if you’ve not just made his stomach churn and his heart take leaps and bounds in his chest. As if he’s not going to think about the way you’d said it every second of every day. As if he won’t dream of you saying it in every other context imaginable.

You pat his hand twice, then pull it back to take hold of your drink again. Smiling as if you’ve not ruined him for anyone else for good.

[cindyss]

could you pleeeaaasssseeee do a theo x fem!reader with him as a dom but him loving y/n so much, like with deeply admiration for her? PLEASE I BEG YOU (btw love the way you writeee, you're amazingggggg 🩷)

of course i can thank you for your support 🥹🫶

——————————————————

• - EVEN BETTER WHEN YOU SCREAM IT - •

PAIRING(S): theodore nott x fem. reader

WARNING(S): dom. theo!! , teasing, smut

SUMMARY: request

A/N: i deleted my wattpad story because i dont think ill have the motivation to continue 😓 , sorry this took long i was a bit busy and unmotivated !!

——————————————————

Waves of excitement hit you as your boyfriend Theodore Nott of 2 years carried you bridal style across the street, late at night. The two of you had a fight earlier that day and to tease him, you wore a short black dress that defined your curves perfectly.

Therefore, as you arrived to the party, and when his eyes first laid on you, he wouldn’t stay away from you the whole night. And when the party was finally over, he wasted no time carrying you out of there.

He was swinging you around as you giggled, too drunk by alcohol. His face expression wouldn’t move so you decided to crack a joke “every weekend i say to myself, bob you have to stop drinking, luckily i’m not bob”. Your laugh echoed through the streets even earning a little smirk from the boy carrying you.

When you finally got to his dorm, he waisted no time throwing you on his bed removing your clothes. He replaced the clothes covering your now revealed skin with kisses as he nibbled and sucked on your skin. He finally slid your panties down, teasing your inner thighs. He trailed kisses until he reached your aching, wet cunt.

“so wet principessa, already? I’m never gonna fucking fight with you again if you wear this. You know how many men I had to force to take their eyes off of you? Do you know how many men were eye fucking you and i had to control myself and not fuck you in front of them all to mark you as mine? seven.” he said in between kisses, slowly getting closer to your cunt.

He then dipped his head between your thighs, and began eating you out like a starved man, sucking and nibbling and kissing and licking every spot he could reach. His hair wrapped around your fingers as you tug, begging him for more.

“please theo,” you breathe heavily, slightly moaning his name. “fuck im gonna-“ you scream before theo removes his mouth. “wh-“ you hesitate before he traces the side of your lips with his finger “not yet cara mia, you think its that easy? after all your teasing you think im gonna let you come so easily? hm?”.

God fuck. he connects your lips deepening the kiss as your tongues find their way to each other, his hand supporting you, holding your cheek.

“i want you to sit on my face” he speaks. “theo no it could hurt you,” you answer. as much as you would enjoy sitting on his face, you’d never done it before and you were too scared. “principessa, if you want me to give you permission to come, you’re gonna need to sit on my face”.

“fuck, okay” you mumble under your breath, nodding in approval. He flips you over, and once you’re both ready, he slowly lowers you on top of him, your thighs swallowing his face. As you adjust, he uses his tongue to hit every spot. He licks and sucks as waves of pleasure travel through your body, this man.

He moans into your aching pussy as you arch your bag, your hands searching for something, for anything to hold onto dear life for and to not crush him.

Then, as you grab onto the bed sheets, screaming his name, he stops the movements of his tongue then gently removed you off him. “nott im gonna kill you” he chuckles at your threat before speaking, “im sorry baby but you’re gonna need to beg me for it”.

“fuck you” you speak. “im pretty sure thats my job mia cara,” he smirks before beginning to lower his pants. he removes his boxers then takes his shaft already dripping with pre-cum in his hands and begins pumping it.

“Your pussy is well stretched by my tongue, now im gonna need you to watch me come then ill help you to yours.” he begins pumping and stroking his dick, watching you drool over him with a smirk covering his face.

You, too turned on by the situation, try touching yourself before theo stops you “no baby, no touching.” “theo please” he shakes his head before pumping more until he’s finally throwing his head back, moaning and whimpering your name as he comes. “now lick it and clean me up”.

you immediately answer his order and begin licking him clean, even trying to move your head up and down as you were so desperate before he grabbed you by the hair and gently pulled you up “te ragazza impertinente” he chuckled. ( you naught girl) .

he then admired your lustful eyes, before smashing his lips onto yours. “you know i love you so much yeah?” he whispered in between kisses. then he carried you and slowly lowered you so that you adjust to his size. once you did that, you began riding him carelessly as you both became a whimpering mess.

“mm.. you wanna come?” he asked you as your movement slows down in exhaustion. “please” you speak a tear rolling down your cheek. he immediately wipes the tear off your cheek “no cara mia im sorry im gonna make it happen right now”. he apologized before getting you off him and flipping you over.

he inserts himself again and immediately begins thrusting in and out of you. your hands travel to his neck lowering his face to kiss him. his hand wresting on your waist, you move on of your hands and lay it on top of his, the other gripping the sheet. “i love you so much, youre my principessa and you’re so perfect” he says as his travels to your clit rubbing in circles.

his thrusts and fingers working in sync get you to your high almost immediately as he gives you permission to come “come on my finger pretty girl”. you come covering almost his whole thumb and he licks it clean. “theo, come inside me please” you ask him. you begin massaging his balls and he comes into you, both moaning. “fuck that feels so nice”.

“you know you’re actually the prettiest girl, like ever. i love the way you fix your hair, and the way you say my name, even better when you scream it.” you both chuckle at that comment.

“sorry for being a dick baby i love you so much and nothing will ever change that. i will always protect you and take care of you, in always here for you.” this boy was the sweetest. he begins kissing your neck before carrying you over to the bath.

——————————————————

sorry if this is not accurate to the request but i sorta found it difficult and i have no motivation at all so if any other requests are put in theyre probably gonna take time and im sorry 💗 .

[not-rigel]

Always take care of you

Rating: E

warnings: butch4butch, brothel, smut, switch sevika, fingering r! recieving, cunnilingus r!recieving, edging, praise kink, use of "good boy", riding, emotional sex, aftercare, lets hope i'm not missing anything important

A/N: this is written to be read as butch4butch but i tried not to use many descriptors for reader. butches i love you sm and you deserve a sweet treat

WC: 6.1k!!!! (im sorry i got so fucking carried away)

It’s been weeks since the news of Silco’s death spread across Zaun. Silco's death left a massive power vacuum in the Undercity, displacing several people in the following turf wars, yourself included. You moved deeper into the Undercity, following the demands for your services. Where there's power, demand for sex is right behind. 

Your line of work is rewarding, monetarily and emotionally. It was something that was suggested to you long ago. Not quite in the way some of the other workers you've encountered were. You had always liked to support and service others. You liked validating people in ways they never understood they needed. If you could help someone through their struggles and be told “I needed this. Thank you.” you were happy. So when a friend mentioned that sex work is another way to help others, you didn't need much time to think it over. 

It took a few days to find work again at The Gardens. The atmosphere was a little different than your original brothel but a brothel nonetheless. The clientele here was more diverse. You were surprised at the range of people who walk through the doors. There would be couples looking to spice up their love life. Released prisoners that struggle to transition back into life and dating. Even overlords who are overworked without time for dating. It is beautiful to see all the people coming in, bonding over sex. 

Despite the clientele being diverse, the workers weren't quite as varied. Even with having several men working at The Gardens, you were the most masculine person working there. All the men were pretty, long eyelashes and high cheekbones. All the women were showstopping, dressed head to toe in sparking fabrics and adorned with accessories. And it is fine with you to not be “pretty”. You preferred the masculine pet names and compliments. It ended up working to your advantage, attracting femme clients. 

You're ten hours into your shift with a little over two hours left to go. You have a new client that paid for a full hour and your final hour is still unbooked. It's all fine by you, having made more than enough money tonight. 

The time you have between sessions passes quickly and you smooth over your clothes before walking over to your designated room. All you know about your next client is her name, Sevika, that she is trying to band the Undercity together and is rumored to be phenomenal at sex. Naturally, gossip occurs at brothels so it's not uncommon for you to know a few facts behind each name. 

You arrive at the curtains that separates the room from the hall, pinching the fabric and pulling it open enough to enter. Her aura is what you notice first. She sits legs spread on the sofa. It's a power pose, dominant and in charge. The more you take in her appearance, the more excited you feel. There have been several times you have found yourself attracted to your clients and she was incredibly attractive. She's the most masculine woman you've had as a client. Sharp jaw, short hair and thick eyebrows. For a moment you wonder if she is aware of who she's booked. You attracted the femme crowd exclusively. 

She looks you over, hand coming up to cover her mouth. There's a glimmer of a smile in her eyes, a sparkle so quick you almost miss it. So maybe she is aware of what she's paying for.  

To Sevika, you were a dream brought to life. It was how you dressed, how you held your posture, your hands, your expressions. Small little things that gave the masculine vibe. Babette wasn't fucking kidding when she told Sevika she'd “recently hired someone that was just your type.” She's been a regular at the brothel for years. Each pretty, glittering face blending together over the years. Your face couldn't blend in even if Sevika tried. 

You take in a breath to ask her how she wants to proceed but she beats you to it “I want a contract.” she says simply, cutting straight to the point. 

You pinch your eyebrows in confusion, “What?” 

This was an odd request. Contracts, or sexual agreement forms, were usually reserved for workers with regular clients. When clear boundaries needed to be placed for the complex dynamics in a long term relationship. They leave no space for uncertainty. Knowing exactly what your clients want also rids the need to ask every time. 

Sevika shakes her head, breathing out a little laugh-like huff through her nose, “A contract. Where we'll go over preferences then agree and sign.” 

“I know all that I am… confused. You're not my regular,” you explain.  

“Gotta start somewhere. Don't see any point in waiting. I want a contract with you,” she says it so sincerely, looking you right in the eyes as she does. 

Your heart flutters a little. It seems like she is attracted to you, unless you're misunderstanding her demand for a contract. Everyone at The Garden's told you contracts were a big deal but Sevika will be your first. 

“Okay. Um, I have to get them from Babette's office. Will that be alright?” you ask, not wanting to leave her alone while she is paying for your services. 

“Go, I’ll be here,” she grants, nodding toward the curtain.

“Alright. I'll be right back.” 

“And bring two,” she calls out before you leave.

“You need an extra copy?” 

“No.” 

You want to ask what she means but with each minute that passes without servicing her, the more guilt settles in. You leave the room, rushing to Babette's office to complete Sevika’s request. Babette is shocked to see you when you draw open the curtain to her office. 

“Aren't you booked with Sevika, hon? No one comes to my office during her sessions. Is everything alright?” Babette asks. 

“She requested a contract. Asked for an extra copy too” you tell her. 

Babette is taken aback, not shocked for the same reasons you were. She expected Sevika to take a little longer with you from nerves. 

“I honestly thought that girl would take a few visits to make a contract with you. I told her she'd like you,” Babette rambles as she retrieves the documents from her cabinet. She hands you the papers with a couple of pens.  

“Good luck, hon. She's got a lot going on right now. But I'm sure you can handle her.” 

You don't question what Babette could be referring to. Leaving the room, you thank Babette from over your shoulder. You rush back to Sevika’s room, hoping you can still make the most of your limited time. 

“I hope you weren't waiting too long,” you say as you reenter the room. Sevika smiles at you, not hiding it this time. It's a crooked smirk, confident and laid back. The only thing giving her away was her picking at her cuticles.

“Not at all.” She pats the vacant spot next to her on the sofa.  

You take a seat, leaving about two inches of space between you and hand her both contacts. You usually avoided initiating physical contact with your clients, letting them make the first move. You wanted your clients to be comfortable and initiate on their own terms. Sevika scoots over to close the small distance between you, pressing her thigh against yours. You return the press, leaning your shoulder into her as well. She is incredibly warm, heat diffuses from her skin into yours. The heat spreads past your shoulder and thighs, dissolving across your entire body with electric buzzing. 

“I should be honest and say I haven’t had a client with a contract so this process is new to me. I promise that I’ll do my best to service you accordingly” you tell her. 

“I kinda assumed you haven't had one before. With you being new here and all. I'll walk you through it.” 

You chuckle, “You shouldn't have to. It's my job.” 

“It's our contract. We'll do it together. First page,” she counters, clicking her pen. She hands one of the contracts to you. Using her thigh as a writing surface, she prints her name at the top of the page.  

“Answer for yourself. Not what you think I'll like,” she says, filling in her dynamic preferences.

“You mean…?” your words trail off. This is an odd request. Contracts were meant so the workers always know what their clients want. Your wants aren't meant to me on the contract at all. 

“I want you to fill out your wants and your boundaries. More than that, I want you to not think about my wants,” She taps her pen against the page before speaking again, “You probably get it… people assuming that we're automatically tops and dominant because we're butch. I don’t know about you but I sometimes feel stuck in a box.”

You do get it. The assumption that your masculinity automatically translates into authority. The assumption that you didn't need softness too. The feeling that all people see when they look at you is a woman trying to be a man. You're beginning to understand her, what being at The Gardens means for her. The first piece of the puzzle has been set on the table. 

“I get it,” you snort and smile at her, “I completely fucking get it.” 

You make a show of clicking your pen and printing your name at the top of the page. The sexual agreement is several pages long, listing roles, acts, kinks and terms and conditions.You fill out your forms together. It's the calmest you've felt in a long time. 

“You finished the first page yet?” Her thigh pushes against yours again. 

“Yup.” you turn over to the next sheet and nudge her back.

You've made it to the second to last page of the contract, checking off the last box in the fetish section. The bottom of the page says all involved parties must review the agreement together before proceeding to the final page. 

“Ready to review?” you ask, even though you heard Sevika flip her contract back over to the first page two minutes ago. 

“I'm ready. And just cross out anything you don’t like. I won’t mind.”

You swap contracts, and you work on memorizing all of her preferences. Sevika has checked off switch and masochist in the dynamics area. As for sex acts, several of the options have been checked off. The ones you make an effort to commit to memory are vaginal intercourse, anal intercourse, fingering, body worship, cum eating, finger sucking, edging, orgasm control, bondage, sensory deprivation, nipple clamps, biting, scratching, hair-pulling. All checked for receiving and giving. You write a slash through anything you don’t want to do. 

“Can I get you to fill this one out a bit more?” Sevika hands you back your contract, where she’s circled ‘praise kink’, “I want you to add some phrases or what you like to be called.”  

Sevika works fast, on the kink and fetish page already. You take a break from reading over her contract to amend yours. You write “good boy” “perfect” and “you’re doing so good” into the margin. She takes the contract back, eyes widening as she reads what you’ve written. She risks a glance at you, seeing that you’re watching her. 

“You probably haven’t made it to that page yet but… we got a lot in common,” she chuckles. 

“I can’t wait.” 

Sevika doesn’t look away, and you let her hold eye contact. 

“Can you sit on my lap?” She requests, it's spoken in a whisper. Like she is afraid to ask at all. 

“Yes. Anything,” you assure her. You stand from your spot, slowly moving to settle onto her lap. You sit on her thigh and she hooks her flesh arm under your knees and rests them onto her other thigh. Her mechanical arm supports your lower back. You read over the kinks and fetishes page as her head rests on your shoulder. She was right to say you have a lot in common, every kink is aligned with yours. You see at the bottom of the page, where there is a bit of black space, Sevika has written in “Aftercare is necessary and non-negotiable.” You put a little checkmark next to it. 

“Finished. Anything you want to discuss before we sign?” you ask. 

“What were your no’s?” 

You tell her where your preferences did not align and she takes the news admirably well. She made no changes to your contract. Together, you flip to the final page, filling out your names on both copies. Sevika uses your thigh as a surface to sign. When you’re done she takes your contract and sets them somewhere on the sofa. 

“Well there's about ten minutes left in my hour. We can just sit here,” she lays her head onto your shoulder, face nuzzling your neck. Somehow she has even more warmth to offer, hot breath melting past your skin and muscles and bones. Warmth moves through you in a way that doesn't feel physical. 

“I dont have anyone booked next hour,” you groaned. You cupped the back of her head with one hand, feeling the soft, buzzed hairs of her undercut. You pull her face in closer, so she can warm you even more.  

“Is that flirting or good salesmanship?” she whispers against your skin. 

“Flirting.”  

“Thanks,” she laughs, “But I won’t be able to tonight. Tight schedule.” 

“Then what do we do with your time?”

She cups your jaw, your chin resting in her palm. You lean your face into her hold, waiting for her to make the next move. Her fingertips twitch, another tell that she’s nervous. Another piece of the puzzle clicking into place. You look into her eyes, trying to find her. To know her. 

“I want you to kiss me,” her voice trembles as much as her fingers on your cheeks. You hear the meaning in the words. It's not that she wants to kiss, it's that she wants to be kissed. 

You nod, slanting your face closer to hers. You feel the tingle, that bit of warmth only Sevika gives you when you touch, as you close the distance. You lips meet hers in a soft kiss, her hand that was on your jaw trailed to the back of your neck and her thumb strokes the nape of your neck. You reposition your legs, swinging them over her thighs to straddle her. Sevika moans and pulls you closer, closing the space left between you. Her breast presses into yours, pushing into you with each breath. 

You want to make her melt beneath you, kiss her until she knows softness like she’s never known it before. With the hand that’s cupping her head, you card your fingers through the short strands of her hair. Each tender press of your lips against her made her shudder and sink into the sofa. Each kiss gave you more pieces to the puzzle you’ve been fitting together all night. There are still pieces missing but you start to see the image. Sevika is soft. Sevika is emotional. Sevika is passionate. It's a passion that's been simmering, waiting to be reheated to the boiling point. 

“Sevika,” you whisper against her lips, “All that beauty you have inside… Let it out.” 

She trembles as she pulls you back to the kiss. She let out a soft moan as her eyes fluttered beneath her lids, your kisses making her skin prick with goosebumps. Your fingers running through her hair felt so comforting. Sevika loved giving pleasure for years, something she knows she's good at. Something she used to box herself into doing for years. 

With Zaun on course for war, Sevika lost so much. It's why she went to the brothel in the first place. Needing somewhere to go to make Piltover stop existing. But somehow during the years she dedicated her life to Silco, she became so focused on one goal to see her through every decision she made, all her other wants got pushed away. She forgot how long it's been since she’s been shown tenderness. She forgot how long it's been since she was something other than a brute. In all the years of coming to the brothel trying to escape the knowledge of her life, she never escaped being Silco’s goon. But right now she is in your arms and you are kissing her with tenderness and care and beauty. You’re kissing her the way she deserves. 

You’re startled by a bell, the timer on the wall meant to let you know your session has finished. Against your wants, you separate yourself from her. You cannot begin playing favorites and go against the rules for Sevika. 

“I’m sorry but after the bell I cannot service you any further. But I can walk you out,” you offer, not quite ready to depart. 

Sevika is catching her breath, staring at you with soft, sparkling eyes. It's the look you always strive for from your clients. The look that someone’s felt intimacy after having lost it. She's so beautiful it makes it so hard to follow the rules. 

“Come on. Gotta get you outta here or I’ll have to start charging you,” you urge. 

“Sorry” she stutters, still panting. 

“It’s okay. It’s my responsibility to keep track of the time and give you time to recover. This is on me,” you tell her. 

Sevika stands, struggling to maintain balance. She walks to the curtain, turning to give you one last glance. 

“That was perfect. Wouldn’t want my hour any other way,” she thanked.

“Good. You’re welcome, Sevika.” 

You walk with her to the door and watch as she disappears into the streets. For the first time, Sevika leaves the brothel without at least some level of grinding. This was the least sexual encounter she's had to pay for. But it's the most fulfilled she’s ever felt afterward. She feels whole and at peace. 

It's been almost one day since Sevika’s first session. Almost 24 hours since you kissed her like she is the most beautiful person in the world. The day was slow for you, just three clients so far. Most of your day was spent planning outfits and reviewing your next week's schedule. You sigh as it looks like you'll also spend your last two hours trying to pass time when Miguel taps you on the shoulder. 

“Your last two hours have been booked,” he informs you, “Sevika.” 

Your heart reacts before you do. Outwardly, you nod and thank him. On the inside, you can feel the ghost of Sevika's warmth. 

“Is she here now?” You try not to sound excited but Miguel sees through you. It's an expected reaction, he's even seen girls jump with joy when he tells them they're booked for Sevika. 

“The gold room,” he says, tilting his head toward the hallway. 

You thank him again and speed walk down the hall, shoving the curtain open when you arrive. Sevika is sitting on the circular bed in the middle of the room, fingers tracing over the quilt. 

“Hi,” you say awkwardly. She reaches her hand out, and you walk over to her and take it.  She pulls you in to straddle her lap, needing to recreate the moment from last night. She is even warmer than you remember. Her head buries into your shoulder and she swears it's remolded to fit her head perfectly. 

“I left here the best I've felt in a long time. I need that feeling again,” she confesses into your shoulder. 

“I'll do everything to give you that feeling again. Is there anything you want specifically?”  

“I want you. Wanna see what happens in the moment.”

You support her jaw in your hand and tilt it toward you to pull her into a kiss. Sevika immediately pushes into the kiss, lips desperately moving against yours. There's something different today, something that begs for more than tenderness. You kiss her, trying to pull away at what she wants. 

Sevika groans into your mouth, and your tongue slides into her mouth, tasting her. You don't push far, waiting for her reaction. She grabs your hips with her right hand. She seems to favor it, which is understandable considering her mech hand is a giant claw. She flips the two of you over, pressing you down into the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and Sevika climbs over to straddle your hips. 

“Sorry I just… I want you so much,” she groaned, leaning down to trail her lips across your jaw before moving down and kissing your neck. Then a soft bite, followed by gently sucking on the skin she bit. She needs you. 

“Never apologize. I want this just as much,” you moan beneath her, loving the switch between needy Sevika that pleads to be kissed and desperate Sevika that takes what she needs. You tangle your fingers into her hair, holding her against your neck. She continues to lick and kiss at your skin, switching back and forth between firm and soft kisses. 

After a few minutes, her fingers dig under the hem of your shirt, pulling it from your skin. You part from the kiss to give her a nod, lifting your back off the bed so she can pull your shirt off. She stares down at you and her mind is at war with itself. She wants to jump right in with you, know what it's like to feel this closeness paired with the euphoria of sex. She also wants to savor kissing you. 

“Sevika, finish what you started please,” you shiver, dissatisfied with only having your shirt off while she stares at you with hungry, lustful eyes. 

She complies, stripping off the rest of your clothes, kissing the skin she exposes as she removes each garment. All of her kisses have left enough intimacy and warmth to last you a lifetime. But your night is far from over. 

“Strip me,” Sevika gasps, hauling you up off the bed to stand with her. You carefully remove her clothes, peeling back layer after layer. Sevika is covered in muscles, her skin barely restraining them. Scars split her skin, some cutting into her skin. Others discolored and raised. All of her is exquisite. Even though you’re the worker and she is the client, you find yourself needing her. You need her to touch you. 

You grasp her hand and lead her back to the bed. You guide her so the two of you kneel at the center of the bed. You guide her hand, sucking two fingers into your mouth, wetting them before trailing them down your torso. You trace her wet fingers to your cunt then release her hand and  she feels over your folds. Her fingers pass over your clit before moving down to enter you. She slides one long finger into you and you grip her shoulders, whimpering for her. Her finger pumps inside of you, against the sensitive spot within, and she feels you flutter and clench in response. Each pump wettens her fingers even more and makes an obscene, sinful sound.  

“Another,” you whine, needing as much of her as you can get. 

Sevika obeys and another finger enters you, sliding in easily. She moves her fingers in and out at a slow place, building the tension higher and higher. Making your skin grow hotter and hotter. Everytime she fully inserted her fingers back into you, you cannot help but gasp.

“You feel so perfect,” she praised you as she kept thrusting her long fingers. Your brain melts a little from the praise. Her fingers moved faster and you began to roll your hips desperately. You still moan in time with her thrusts, occasionally chanting out a little “uh uh uh fuck yes”. You feel your orgasm creeping up on you and so does Sevika. 

“We didn’t talk about it but.. Do you wanna cum now or can I edge you?” she gasps, still fucking her fingers into you. 

You feel a tingle run through your body, dizzying you with lust, “Yes. please,” you mewl. 

“Tell me when you’re close,” she huffs. She thumbs over your clit, rubbing the bud in circles as her fingers curl inside you. She reacts to each of your moans, thrusting harder when you choke out a gasp. Your orgasm continues to build, pleasure layering inside of your waiting to topple down. 

“Almost there, Sevika. Please,” you whine, grasping her shoulders. He quickens her thumb’s circling of your clit and it pushes you closer to release. 

“I’m going to cum!” you cry, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Sevika removes her fingers and you feel yourself being placed back on top of the cliff the moment before you fall. The tension she’s built retreats in a way you’ve always found addicting. 

“Good boy,” she coos, lifting her hand up to press her fingers to your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and you groan at the praise. With one hand you grab her wrist and with the other you cup her neck. You shove her fingers into her mouth instead, pushing her head further onto her hand.   

Sevika shuts her eyes, savoring the taste and feeling of her fingers on her tongue. You see her eyes roll back beneath her lids. She licks all of your arousal away, tongue swirling over her fingers. Too soon the taste is gone and she is left wanting more. You gave her so many things to want. 

She pushed you, your back hitting the bed. She spreads your legs and you quickly recover from being edged, ready for her again. As she lays down between your thighs, you grip her hair, leading her to your waiting cunt.    

Sevika wastes no time, burying her face between your thighs. Her tongue parts your folds, licking up to flick your clit. She lifts her head to reposition and you see the string of spit that connects you. She dips back down, sucking on your labia. The world tilts, leaving you hanging onto her for dear life. She explores you with deliberate slowness, licking over every twitch of your clit. Your hips push forward to get more of her mouth on you. She responds immediately, her tongue flicking in just the right way. Another orgasm begins to build as she sucks and kisses your clit. 

“I’m almost there,” you warn her, in case she wants to edge you again. 

Sevika doesn’t relent, and you try to hold on. You can feel it in her touch, each kiss to your folds, she wanted you to let go. She wants you to enjoy her, not as a client but as herself. Sevika felt the moment you relented, relaxing your hips so she could grab and pull you where she wanted. Your body trembles and your breaths are ragged as she builds you up again, carefully layering your orgasm up to be perfect. And it is. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth when you begin to wail. You back arches off of the bed but Sevika holds your hips in place. Your other hand leaves her hair to clap over your mouth, both hands muffling your cries. 

Your orgasm is like the tiny rays of light that manage to make it to the Undercity. The sparkling proof that life will find you in the oddest places. Tears pour from your eyes as the light consumes you. Usually your clients are the one that cry, the vulnerability of sex catching up with them. It was always beautiful to you, seeing their humanity come out. But you never experienced it yourself. The flood of safety and joy. You always told your clients that crying after orgasm is nothing more than a fleeting reaction. But this was not fleeting. The tears were just the tip of the iceberg of yourself that were begging to be explored.

When your orgasm ends and your body relaxes into the bed, Sevika crawls up your body, kissing you with your cum.  Her mouth and nose are covered in your slick and she spreads it over your face as she kisses you. She cups your cheeks and wipes your tears away. 

“Now you know how I felt,” she whispers against your lips. 

“Please, I need to make you feel that way. I need to give it to you,” you plead. She cannot give you the most beautiful orgasm in the world and not let you return the favor. 

“You don’t need to try. You already make me feel that way.”

“No. I need you to cum for me and feel it. It’s like you unlocked something in me. Let me do the same for you. Please Sevika. You deserve it.” Those words break her. Everytime Sevika thinks she cannot find something new with you, you prove her wrong. There’s still a part of her that needs to be held. A vulnerability that still needs to be reached. 

“Get the strap,” she pants, flopping over so she is laying on her back. As you locate the harness, a dildo, and lube, Sevika sets pillows under her back. You step into the harness and tighten the straps onto your hips before securing the dildo into the ring. You crawl over to Sevika, kneeling between her parted legs. 

She is beautiful, arousal dripping in beads past her brown folds. Thighs shivering as you squirt lube into your hand and stroke it over your dick. You lean over her, grasping her hand in one of your own while using the other to guide your dick to her cunt. 

“You do absolutely amazing things to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” she whimpers, tears already pricking her eyes. 

“You don’t have to know why. Just believe me when I say you do,” you assure her. You push your hips forward, entering her slowly. Sevika’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you further into her. You try to pull your hips away to fuck her but her legs keep you locked inside of her. 

“Do you need a moment?” you ask her, stroking her cheek. 

Her eyes dart around, trying to find the right answer, “I think… I’m not ready to give in.” she bites her lip in shame and you pull her lip from her teeth with your thumb. 

“That’s okay. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. We can do something else. Can I pull out?” 

She shakes her head, “I still want this. I want you inside me I just.. I can’t give up,” she cries, tears falling from her eyes. 

“Hey hey hey, if you can’t give, then take,” you offer. It hurts you to see her falling apart after so much progress. But you wouldn't watch her retreat. When she releases her leg lock on you, you tell her you’re going to pull out. She nods and you slowly remove yourself from her, “What do you want? You don’t have to tell me right away. You still have an hour.”  

Sevika thinks for a moment, for how she can have you feel that vulnerability without handing it over too  quickly. It was a sudden scary feeling, the knowledge that she was right there. She felt ashamed for running from the feeling. How could she still be with you if she can’t relent? You said she could take but she was always a giver with pleasure. 

“Can I.. Can I ride you?” she asks. She honestly didn’t even know that’s what she was going to ask for, she just spoke from the heart. 

“Absolutely. Tell me how you want me,” you coax. 

“Lay down?” 

You lay on your back and she straddles your hips, she's still shivering from nerves. 

“Sevika, you don’t have to if you’re not ready,” you assure her. You couldn’t let her do something she didn’t really want. You have half a mind to safeword and just hold her the rest of the session. 

“I’m scared but.. I’m ready. I’m so fucking scared of what I’ll feel,” she admits, sniffling. 

“It’s normal to be scared. I’m right here, Sev. I made you a promise with that contract that I will always take care of you.” 

At your words she dives down and presses her lips to your, kissing you messily. She grabs your hand and places it onto her hip then takes your dick and aligns it with her cunt. Sevika whines as she sinks slowly, needing to take her time. 

“You’re doing amazing. Such a good boy,” you urge, and she whimpers as you praise her. 

She rolls her hips in experimental circles, getting a feel for how much she can take. When she lifts her hips, your dick slides past her g-spot and it helps her understand. It's a little taste of the feeling you had, and she wasn’t scared of it anymore. She drops her hips again and it coaxes a small moan out of you as the strap bumps your clit. She wants to hear more. Sevika lifts her hips and slams back down, your hips jerk up at the force of hers. She sinks over and over onto you, your hips bucking up to meet her. 

“Good fucking boy, taking your pleasure. Just like you deserve." 

Sevika groaned, “No, you’re my good boy. Making me feel special and whole.” 

“You’re so fucking special,” you moaned. 

Sevika grabs the back of your head and helps you sit up. You hold her face as she drops onto your dick, gasping out moans. 

For the first time. Sevika doesn't try to lose herself in the sex. She finds herself. When you hold her and tell her how perfect she is, how much you want her, she feels connected in a way she never has before. Before now, it was an act. Something she needed to do for release and settling for any face to fill her needs. She’d come for sex for years, but you gave her intimacy. While staring into her eyes, you find an agreement there. That no matter what, you're not going to let her go. You're all she has right now to hold onto the world. You hold her head, stroking her cheeks with your thumbs. Tears fall onto your fingertips and you smooth them away. Sevika reached up to hold your hand against her cheek. Sevika is shivering, every cell buzzing with need. But the need was beyond touch or feeling, it's a need of belonging. Every part of Sevika knew she belonged here, grinding onto your dick while looking into your eyes. 

“Don't look away. I need you to keep looking at me like that,” she pleads.

“No. Never. I need you too. Shit, I need you.”

Sevika cums, dripping down your dick and into your lap. It sticks to your thighs and mixes with your own arousal that's been leaking from you since she first sank onto you. Sevika feels like she could breathe underwater, surrounded by peace and comfort without a worry in the world. You watch as her body shakes with the overflow of emotion, feelings of trust and intimacy mixing with warmth and satiation from her orgasm. You feel her fingers tighten on your hand and you don’t let her go. When her eyes open, you wipe away each other's tears. 

She lifts her hips to release you from her and flops down on your chest. You kiss her hair and stroke her cheek. 

“Sevika, I’m so proud of you. Most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever seen,” you whisper into her hair. 

Sevika nuzzles her head into your chest, cuddling to you for more comfort. With that, the last piece of your puzzle is placed, and she becomes clear. Sevika is nowhere near loved as much as she should be. As much as Babette insisted that love has no place in the brothel, the existence of Sevika made the statement untrue. Sevika needed love so badly, and you needed to give it to her. 

“What do you want for aftercare, love?” you ask her, testing out a new pet name. Sevika sighs into your chest and wraps her flesh arm over you, deepening the cuddle. 

“Hold me and tell me you’ll always take care of me.”

You press another kiss to her hair and wrap your arms over her, “Sevika, I’m going to take care of you no matter what. Sexually, emotionally, any way you need. You need so much love and I’ll be here to give you as much as I can. I just hope it's close to what you need.” 

divider by @cafekitsune

[yauchfilms]

anything with logan and being back in florida ? would appreciate!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

sunburn ✢ logan sargeant (18+)

pairing: logan sargeant x reader (established relationship)

warnings: smut, porn with plot (lots of exposition sorry i got carried away), one use of y/n, soft dom!logan, switchy!reader, fingering, edging, unprotected p in v, lots of pet names, begging, lots and lots of praise, body part worship if you squint, cursing, logan’s a simp, reader is implied floridian, implied childhood friends to lovers, sunburns, fluffy intimacy

summary: it’s been too long since y/n has been back in the states and she is NOT used to the florida sun like she used to be, but don’t worry, logan knows how to take care of her.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: sorry i got soooo carried away with this i don’t know what came over me. this was NOT supposed to be smut but im just a florida girl crushing on a florida boy here y’all lmao. i’m down so bad for this man that i just went kinda crazy. also this was my first time writing smut so pls bare with me. this is inspired by my friend (and fellow logan girly) who just acquired a nasty sunburn lmaoooo. enjoy!!!!

it had been quite a while since you and logan had been back home together. well, not really, but the weather was typically a lot nicer in the winter months than in the spring and summer, and you were not used to it. after you and logan moved to london together full-time, you rarely saw the sun anymore, and your matching pale complexions certainly reflected that sentiment. 

obviously, the miami race weekend was a big deal for the whole sargeant camp. aunts, uncles, cousins, childhood friends, and grandparents would be making their short trip down i-95 to see logan race, but it also meant that you and logan could spend a week together at home, in the sun, in each other’s company. a free vacation of sorts. logan’s parents were busy getting the house ready for the hordes of guests that were to soon occupy the space, so you and logan were more than happy to get out of their hair and into the back yard for some relaxation. 

it was sunday, and you found yourself lounging out on the dock, lost in a romance novel that was probably making you lose brain cells, when you heard a familiar voice calling out to you.

“y/n!”, logan yelled from where him and coco were playing on the grass. “have you been applying sunscreen?” 

you put your book down, letting out a small huff at his question. logan often took a rather paternal role over you, not in a weird or demeaning way, but rather in the sense that he always has your best interest at heart. and you loved that about him, loved how he always wanted to take care of you without being asked. 

you looked down over the chaise longue you were laid out on, thinking there was a bottle of SPF next to your drink, but all that was there was the can of sparkling water you had been nursing. 

“don’t have any; i’ll be okay!” you called back, hoping that would be the end of it.

“you want me to bring you some? it’s no problem,” logan replied, positioning himself to get up off the ground.

“don’t worry about it; i’m coming inside soon anyways!” you half-lied, knowing that logan usually respected your wishes when it came to things like that. you knew you weren’t necessarily telling him the truth, but he knew you and your stubbornness, and he knew it was not his business to try to fix it. 

another few hours had passed, and logan and the dog had long gone inside to find something else to do. you had stayed out, vowing to finish your book in one sitting. as you closed it, you stood up from the lounger, grabbing your long-abandoned can from the ground, wrapping yourself in the towel that you had been laying on, making your way back into the comfort of the house – and the air conditioning.

walking in through the kitchen, you pass logan’s mom, who was cooking dinner for the family. 

“oh sweetie, looks like you got some color on you!” she exclaims, chopping up some vegetables. 

“yeah, it’s been a minute since i’ve had time to tan! i missed the florida sunshine too much.”

“well, logan’s in his room, and dinner’s in about an hour if you’d like to freshen up,”  mrs. sargeant said sweetly, motioning towards the hallway towards logan’s room.

upon your arrival, logan moved his laptop out of his lap and onto the bed next to him. you took the towel off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bikini, when logan’s eyes went wide with shock.

“what, it’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bikini before?” you quipped, reacting to his sudden change of expression. 

“y/n, you are bright red, like ferrari red,” logan replied, serious as a heart attack. you make your way to the vanity over his dresser, taking in your current state. logan was right. you were burnt. 

“what the fuck dude, i swear i wasn’t out there that long,” you snapped, poking and prodding yourself in the mirror, letting out a wince when you stumbled over a particularly sensitive area.

logan gets off his spot on the bed, making his way towards you, joining you in front of the mirror. his hands immediately fall to your hips out of instinct, but he makes sure not to grab too tightly due to your new look.

“baby,” he says, placing his chin onto your shoulder. you let out another wince, reacting to his touch. “i told you to wear sunscreen. now look at you, my little lobster…”

“this isn’t funny,” you pout, and he leans forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. you spin around in his arms, now facing him face-to-face rather than through the mirror. 

“stop pouting baby, and go hop in the shower, please. the sooner you get some cold water on you, the better you’ll feel. i can feel the heat radiating off you from here,” logan said with a giggle. his hands linger around your ass, and he gives a slight smack to send you on your way, which elicits a shrill yelp from you due to the sensitivity of the area. 

“are you at least going to join me?” you question as you make your way to his en suite, stopping in the door frame with your arms crossed across your chest. logan lets out another giggle.

“and listen to you whine the whole time? no thanks, plus i showered like an hour ago,” he replies, which garners a predictable whine from you.  “if you make it quick, i might have something that can help you,” he adds, and you turn on your heel into the bathroom, shutting the door with a slam. 

and he was right; the shower hurt like hell, but you know that had he been there, you wouldn’t have been able to properly soak in the cold water, so you silently curse him for being right. 

you walk back into logan’s room, wrapped in your towel, when you see him sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. he hears you approach, putting his phone down and grabbing the clear bottle off the bed next to him. 

“i found you aloe; well, my mom did. she said your burn is one of the worst she’s seen,” logan said, presenting the bottle to you like it was a participation trophy. 

“is that supposed to make me feel better or worse, logie?” you questioned, feigning offence from his comment. 

“well, the comment probably won’t, but hopefully the aloe does,” he replied. “c’mere, baby,” he cooed, his arms outstretched, welcoming you into his arms. you take your spot on his lap, legs draped over his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you in place. logan places a kiss to the bridge of your nose, and along your cheeks, leaning in to admire the newly-formed freckles that were threatening to peak out from underneath the harsh redness of your skin. 

“your freckles are back; reminds me of when we were little, trying to catch fish with my dad in the backyard. you were so bad at it; still are to be honest, but it’s okay because you still look cute trying to bait a hook,” he laughs, his breath giving a cooling sensation to your cheeks, and you wish he would keep talking just to feel his breath against your skin. 

“logan, baby, the aloe?” you suggest, knowing that the time he’s wasting is killing you. all you crave is the feeling of the lotion on you, and his hands being the ones to apply it. 

“sorry, didn’t mean to get sentimental on you, just being here with you makes me think about stuff like that. i sometimes wish we could go back…” logan trails off, and you know what he’s thinking about. he often thinks about the memories of you growing up, how much he missed you when he moved away to the uk, and what it meant to get you back. you like to think of those moments too, sometimes, but he often gets in his head about it. 

“i know,” you coo, lifting a hand up to card through the longer hair on the back of his neck, as a way to soothe him.

he lifts the bottle of aloe up towards you. 

“may i?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up in an inquisitive way.

“of course you may. how do you want me?” you ask, a mischievous look in your eye.

“do not say it like that, you minx,” logan shot back, your innuendo catching him by surprise. 

“keep talking crazy like that, and we might have a problem,” he snapped, although with no actual malice behind it. “you can lay on your tummy first, though, and i’ll go from there, if that’s okay,” he said, his expression softening as he looked at you. 

you climb out of his lap and onto your stomach on the bed next to him, and he straddles your back to get the proper angle. 

“this okay?” he asks, tugging slightly at the towel that is still loosely wrapped around your back. 

“log, you’ve seen me naked countless times; of course it’s okay,” you quip, turning your head so he can see the side of your face. he leans down, planting a sloppy kiss to your cheek, blowing a raspberry there. this elicits a giggle from you, wriggling underneath him. 

logan drags the towel down your body slowly, his fingers barely grazing your warm, sensitive skin, standing up on his knees to pull it out from under you. 

“i know we aren’t having sex or anything, but could you at least take your shirt off or something? this feels too clinical,” you say, causing logan to burst out laughing above you.

“you are not a real person, i swear to god,” he quips, pulling his shirt over his head in one quick motion. “is that better, princess?” he says sarcastically, using the nickname he only gives you when you’re acting like a handful. 

between your fits of giggles, you let out a “mhm” that signals to logan that he is free to proceed. this evokes an eye roll from logan that you catch out of the corner of your eye. 

his attitude doesn’t last long, however, because before you can protest, his lips find your shoulder blade, peppering kisses along the top of your back, feeling his stubble graze across your skin. it burns, but feels so good at the same time.

“so sweet for me, logie,” you groan, melting into his touch. he reaches for your hair, still damp from the shower, to move it out of his way, as he makes his way across the plane of your body.  

all he can manage is a drawn out “hmmmmm” as he feels the warmth of your skin along his cheek. 

he pulls away suddenly, and you whimper at the loss of contact from him. 

“i know, i know,” he cooes, and you hear the bottle of lotion being opened just out of your periphery. 

his hands make contact with your skin again, feeling the sensation of the cool liquid as he massages it in. his strong hands make their way up and down your back, causing you to arch only slightly, if it wasn’t for him sitting squarely on your ass. 

“you’re killing me, logan,” you half-whisper, his actions genuinely taking your ability to speak at a regular volume, the intimacy of it all being just a little too much for you. 

“feels good, huh?” he asks, and although you can’t see it, you can tell that he’s cocked his eyebrow at you, and you’re surprised he’s been able to behave himself this long. 

his hands work swiftly, massaging the liquid in with long, deft fingers, the sensation driving you crazy.

“logan, i want you, please,” you whine, looking up over your shoulder to meet his gaze, your eyes softening in an almost begging manor. 

“i thought you said we weren’t–” 

“i lied. i’m a liar. i need you right now,” you beg, as logan stands back up on his knees to allow you to roll over underneath him, him now settled on your thighs.

“fuck, baby, i can’t say no to you,” he huffs, not sure exactly how to make the next move. he looks down at you splayed out in front of him, taking in the sight before him. a hand reaches down to caress down your chest, fingers grazing slightly over your nipple, causing your breath to hitch. 

“we have to make it quick, okay? can you be good for me?” he asks, his hand lingering on your left breast. 

you let out a whimper, shaking your head slightly.

“words, baby,” he sighs, his fingers massaging into the tissue of your chest. 

“yes, i’ll do whatever you want,” you whisper, unable to find your voice with how turned on you were. 

“that’s my pretty girl,” logan cooes, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, adjusting himself so he’s slotted between your legs. the kiss deepens, his tongue finding its way into your mouth, as he swallows your muffled moans, trying to avoid the awkward conversation with his mom later. 

“gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispers, his hand running up and down your side, the warmth of his hand searing your sensitive skin.

“god, i feel like we’re in high school again,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.

“except i wasn’t nearly as good then as i am now, though,” he smirks, diving down to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to the base of your neck, softly nibbling on your pulse point. 

“are you gonna prove it?” you ask, trying to rile him up.

this question evokes something in him, his breath against your skin coming hot and sudden, and you could feel the deep exhale from his nose.

leaning up to your ear, he whispers, “you are such a brat.”

the sensation from the whisper mixed with the sting of his words sends a shock straight to your core. he’s not always the best at dirty talk, but he still somehow knows exactly what to say and when to say it. 

“touch me, logan,” you manage to squeak out, your breath growing heavier the more you took in his words, and he was eager to oblige.

with that, the hand that found comfort on your hip trailed its way down between your bodies, grazing the softness of your stomach, fingers oh-so-gently teasing your folds. 

“so wet, huh? so worked up for me? you drive me so fucking crazy, you know that?” he growls, his voice rasping as he begins rubbing small circles against your clit with his thumb. “one or two, baby?” he asks, and you know exactly what he means. 

“two, please”, you whine into his mouth, body arching up into him before he even has the chance to touch you properly. 

“good girl, take it so well,” he groans, sliding two fingers into your cunt, almost too slowly. his voice is almost unrecognizable, the threat of being too loud taking over. his thumb continues its pattern on your clit.

you feel the tension building as he fucks his hand in and out of you, but not before you feel him slowing his pace down.

“i know you wanna come now baby, but we don’t have long. i’m gonna stop, and we can come together, okay?”, he half-whispers. 

his hand moves from its spot between your thighs back up toward your lips, as he rests his fingers on your bottom lip, cocking his eyebrow at you. 

“o-okay,” you squeak out, and with that, his fingers push past your lips, urging you to suck them clean, and you oblige, swirling your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself on his fingers. 

your hands trail down between you two, your fingers dipping underneath his shorts and boxers, toying with the waistband. 

logan removes his fingers from your mouth, opting to move back to your jawline, planting lingering kisses along the bone.

“quit teasing, baby, want you on top. let me see those pretty tits of yours, yeah?”, he smirks, knowing that him complimenting your body drives you crazy in the best way. 

you oblige with a searing kiss to his lips, opting to pull his shorts down in one motion, cock bobbing free and slapping across his stomach. he reaches down to finish taking them off, throwing them on the floor with your long-abandoned towel. 

he rolls you both over with ease, you now on top. your fingertips graze his chest, down to his abs, grabbing his cock and giving it a few quick pumps to make sure he’s ready. 

“ready, log?” you ask, your hands now on either side of his head, his blue eyes sparkling back up at you, your hips and ass now up in the air waiting for his cue. 

he leans up to chase your lips, trying to kiss you, just out of his reach. 

“please, baby, i can’t take it much more,” he begs, using his arms to pull you down to him, sinking down on him, and meeting his lips with yours. now it’s his turn to moan into your mouth. 

“fuuuuuck,” is all he’s able to get out, his hands finding their way to your hips, trying to help you relieve the lack of sensation. Your hips roll for the first time over him, and his hips immediately buck up into you.

“patience, baby. i thought i was the desperate one?” your words go right to his cock, making him buck up once again, making you speed up your motions. you feel the effects of his desperation on your body, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every bounce on his cock.

“fuck, you’re close, baby; so am i,” logan pants, the physicality of it all catching up to him. he knows your body so well; he can always tell when you’re about to come. 

with his observation, you lean back with your hands behind you on his thighs, your hips continuing to roll against his body, eliciting a low, grumbling moan from logan. he loved you like that, all cock-drunk and lazy on top of him. it also meant that he had a perfect view of your tits, both his hands reaching to grab at them as he continued fucking up into you. 

“these are so fucking perfect. all mine. i can’t believe you’re all mine, baby,” logan pants, both of your movements becoming lazier, as he rolls your nipples in between his fingers, feeling your already-tight walls close in on his cock.

you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching with his presence on your tits, and you know that he isn’t going to last long, either. you lean forward, diminishing the space between you two, giving logan the opportunity to bear hug you. his thrusts up into you send you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you, causing you to let out a muffled moan onto his right pec. your vision goes slightly blurry for a second until you hear a grunted “fuck, baby”, followed by the feeling of logan’s hips sputtering underneath you. he comes shortly after you, spilling into you. 

You collapse onto his chest, your highs riding out together. he doesn’t loosen his grip around your back, planting a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead, pulling out as you lay pitifully on his chest.

“so good for me, baby, so sweet. fuck, i’m so lucky,” he whispers, rubbing your back where, just a few minutes earlier, he was applying aloe lotion. he rolls you both over so that you’re now facing each other on your sides. 

you reach a hand up to caress his face, feeling the stubble from a week’s worth of no races, the hair rough against your smooth palm. 

“logie, you fucked me so good i almost forgot about this damn sunburn,” you giggled, “but now we’re done and it just hurts again!”

“guess that means i’ll just have to fuck you again,” logan smirked, burying his head into the crook of your neck, eliciting more giggles from you. you begin to hook your leg over his thigh, bringing you even closer, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. you almost begin the cycle over again until you hear a knock on the door that has you both frozen in your tracks. 

“dinner!” you hear his mom cheer from the other side of the door, and then her footsteps clearly walking back down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“guess not,” you teased, eliciting an eye roll from logan, who quickly gets up to pull you into the bathroom to get cleaned up. 

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Your professors just want to help you learn and gain knowledge. Your first lesson happened to be very educational...

『Word count』 : 2.3k

-> Genre: College Au. Smut. 

Pairing: Professor!Yunho/Mingi x Student!Reader

[Warnings] : Age gape (reader is in her 20s while Yunho and Mingi are in their late 30s). Swearing. Dry humping. Oral. Deep throating. Pet names. Semi-public sex. Fingering. Dirty talk. Slight power play. Heavy cum play, saliva and fluids cause I lost control. IM SORRY. Filming, mention of taking photos. Reader is curvy and beautiful. Unprotected sex. Piv. Yunho and Mingi are huge!! Beefy men! Hehe. Some mxm and hints of prior seggy times with one another. Whoops what can I say I’m a yungi supporter. Also these two like to use terms that could consider the reader to be a “toy” of sorts. Which she is not and the boys do like her more than that I just got carried away like I normally do when I write things at 2 in the fucking morning. Oops.

Masterlist | Navigation | Part One

You gasped loudly, Yunho’s large hands slamming you onto the desk. Mingi had lifted you up off your chair, ripping your panties down while pulling up your skirt. It all happened so fast. Legs spread, Yunho's hot clothed crotch humping against your aching core. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, vaguely hearing both men whisper and chuckle. You felt so exposed under their gaze even though you were mostly clothed. Mingi’s deep chuckle caught your attention, making you shiver. “Look at that. She’s leaking down her thighs.” Mingi squatted down beside you, snaking his hand along your plump flesh. Picking up some of your juices that had spilled down towards your ankle. You had practically come just from them throwing you around like a rag doll. Yunho’s hips snapped against you, letting you feel his growing erection. He let out a groan, feeling your slick seep onto him.

“Fuck I might just nut humping this desperate cunt.” Yunho gulped, his hands digging deep into the skin on your hips, creating crescent shapes from his nails. Your ears were ringing, as you felt so overwhelmed and they hadn't even touched you where you needed them yet.

“Min..Yuyu..” You gasped, suddenly hearing a loud clank of a belt buckle. A hand gripped your chin, letting your wide eyes see Mingi’s cock leaking pre-cum on his exposed tummy while he held the hem of his shirt up.

“Be a good baby and open up.” he let go of your chin, moving to pump his dick, tapping his red tip against your sealed lips. You opened up obeying every word both men gave. Flattening your tongue, you let Mingi's large girth slide into your wet, warm mouth. “Fuck that’s it, baby. Take every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your jaw went slack, stinging slightly as you tried not to gag. Mingi’s moans quickly filled the room, and he knew if they continued, they would only get louder. So he bit down on the fabric of his shirt he had been tightly gripped in his hand. You could feel him in your throat as he kept his thrusts slow and steady.

“Fuck look. She's getting excited just from sucking your cock Min.” Yunho had knelt down, coming face to face with your cunt. His mouth watered, studying the way you clenched around nothing every time Mingi thrusted into you. “Okay Tiny, for your first official lesson, let's see how quickly you squirt on my face.”

You whimpered around Mingi’s cock feeling Yunho’s tongue lap a long, slow strip of your cum, sucking on your lower lips before pulling away with a pop. His mouth was hot and abusive, his fingers slipping in next to his tongue. They were pumping at a pace that was making your lower tummy burn. Your jaw was slack, tempting to lock or close tightly around Mingi. He seemed to notice picking up his pace in order to release deep down your throat. “Fuck Sugar I think I’m gonna bust down this pretty throat of yours. Is that okay? I want to empty myself in your mouth.”

You whimper around Mingi’s cock from his filthy words. Your fingers squeezing his thighs, a silent way for you to say ‘yes, please, do as you please’. and so he obeyed, snapping his hips against you, spilling ropes of cum down your throat. You tried to swallow it all but it was like his seed was endless, and when he finally stopped and slid out of you, his fingers gazed over your chin seeing you trying your best to gulp down the rest of the white cream. “Awe, was it too much sugar?”

Your eyes were watering as you were now contemplating just spitting it out. But you were in a classroom, and you wanted to not make too much of a mess. Mingi sensed your panic, kneeling down besides the desk you were still leaning against. He brought your face to his, clicking his tongue. “well come here, Sugar. Let me help.” His dark smirk made your head spin. “Sharing is caring.”

His lips latched onto yours, letting his tongue slip into your half-full mouth. His seed spilled into his mouth, letting himself taste the saltiness of his come. He swallows quickly, making you cry out against his hot, wet muscle. Meanwhile, Yunho hadn't stopped his assault on your aching pussy pumping to fingers deep inside you tipping you over the edge. Your climax was unlike anything you’ve felt before in your life. Your eyes were rolled back and your whole body tensed. You were on fire. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.”

“Hmm.” Yunho chuckles against your cunt. “You got a potty mouth baby.” you had the temptation to bite back at him suddenly, knowing all they had been doing for the past twenty minutes was swear and spill out filth. But the gushing liquid flowing down your legs distracted you, moaning instead, feeling your knees buckle.

“Look at that.” Mingi had stepped back to stand behind you, taking in the view of your slumped against. Laying on top of the deck, your legs almost practically dangling limp and white cream mixing with clear liquid pouring down onto the floor below you. Yunho had stood up also, standing with his hands on his hips, looking smug of himself. “Maybe we should take a picture. Document the first time we got our girl off, huh?”

Mingi and Yunho were mumbling to one another as if you were just lying on a school table fucked out of your mind in front of them. Suddenly you hear a click of a camera and your mind, as if a miracle, unfogs. Using your shaking arms you prop yourself on your elbows, wiggling your ass slightly while trying to look over your shoulder. “Fuck stay still princess.”

You tried to obey, noticing Yunho’s flash on his phone. You’ve never been in such a dirty position, let alone filmed. You wanted to come just at the sheer thought these two very beefy men were so obsessed with what you looked like they needed to take photos for safekeeping. It made you have a sense of powerlessness. Strangely. “Mingi, Yunho. Someone please…touch me.”

You couldn’t explain where this newfound confidence came from, but your words made both males instantly by you. Yunho helped you up, leaning your chest against his while Mingi stood behind you, giving feathering kisses along your neck and covered shoulder blade. “We are here tiny. You want us to touch you. Fuck you right here in this classroom.”

“Yes please,” you answered so sweetly, Yunho swore he could have melted then and there. Mingi already had his slacks down, quickly following with his boxers. He grasps your hips, lifting your shirt up slightly so he can get a good view of your ass. His large hand almost covered your entire plump cheek, loving the way your body curves roll and fold beautifully. Like fresh bread dough, ready for Mingi to squeeze.

“Fuck, you gonna have to take us raw.” Mingi motioned, realizing he didn’t have condoms with him and He knew Yunho was definitely not carrying. “You okay with that Sugar?”

“Yes, please, sir.” The plea fell from your tongue before you could register what you had said. The pet name sent Mingi’s cock twitching. His fingers dug more into your hips, threatening to draw blood from the sheer tightness of his grip. His tip slid along your folds, picking up some of your slick, Yunho’s eyes were glued to where his best friend was almost connected to you. It was a sight he never wanted to forget.

“Fuck Baby, what did I say about calling us sir or Mr…” Yunho’s voice was deep, deeper than normal. With a grumble hidden beneath. You whimper out a simple ‘sorry’ feeling a weird form of guilt, feeling bad for making your boys upset… your boys. That’s it. That’s what your mind thought of them as. But that’s if they’ll have you more than just today. Your eyes opened, looking straight at Yun. Your brow was scrunched as you reached for him. He stepped closer, his left hand gripping the back of your neck so you were at eye level with him. “If you keep calling us sir. I can’t promise what I might do to you.”

“S...Sir. Please.” You gasp, suddenly feeling Mingi sink deep inside your cunt. Yunho growls, pulling his cock out of his slacks, pushing you down so you were bent on an angle, your ass flushed against Mingi's pelvis and Yunho’s angry tip pressed firmly to your mouth. Pre-cum smeared on your tongue as you lapped along his shaft before he pushed inside your warm mouth.

"Fuck you feel amazing doll." Yunho threw his head back in a groan. His fingers laced in your messy hair, tightly guiding you along his cock. Mingi, on the other hand, had his nails dug into your plump flesh, thrusting at a speed that left no room for oxygen. He didn't let you get used to his size, but the burn made your tummy rumble. He stretched you out perfectly, making your eyes roll back and saliva pool in your mouth, which Inevitably spilled out down Yunho's cock, coating his balls.

"Shit, Sugar. Why didn't we do this sooner? Your pussy is so fucking tight. And warm. Feels like heaven." Mingi's rambles cause you to clench around him, making his hips stutter a bit. Yunho’s cock still deep down your throat you mumble around him, making the vibrations cause Yunho to still himself, fearing he might come then and there.

“Come one, baby, why don’t you come for Mingi, hey? So we empty out loads in you.” You knew deep down Yunho’s desperate words were cause he was close, and given his thrusts were shallow and no longer timed. You were aware he didn’t have along. So you just moaned in response, wiggling your hips against Mingi in a way to tell him to hurry up. Mingi’s dark chuckle went straight to your core, making your high draw closer. You no longer felt the shyness from before but a newfound feeling brewing in your gut. One that made you well away that these two very large men were wrapped around your little finger. You let one hand go from Yunho’s thigh, bringing it down so you could rub your clit harshly, quickly finding a rhythm towards your release.

“Fuck I’m coming.” Mingi crossed his hands, placing them on opposite hip dips, slamming his cock just right into your soaked cunt, emptying his seed deep inside you. This made you cum, clenching tightly around him, milking him of his cum. Yunho on the other hand, with his eyes watching intensely at how his cock disappeared then reappeared from your mouth, he grabbed your hair into a messy ponytail, stilling his thrusts to come inside your slacked mouth. You tried you best to swallow but like Mingi, it was like his white creamy liquid was endless. So when he pulled out of you, he was quick to pull you up by your hair, smashing his lips against your own. His tongue slipped inside, taking his cum into his own mouth and swallowing. You have never known a man to taste himself let alone swallow his own load. God, it made you hornier than those female students fawning over these two super solider like men in front of you now.

“Come on, Yuyu. Come take a spin.” You could hear Mingi’s deep voice chuckling behind you. You pulled away from Yunho seeing Mingi swiftly move to stand beside the larger man. He grabbed Yun’s cock, tugging it a bit with a smirk plastered on his face. “You still have one more, why don’t you empty it into our sweet girl here.”

Mingi’s lips grazed Yunho's sweaty neck, licking along the other male's jugular before giving it a little bite. These two have definitely played this game before with one another. But whether or not it has been with another person involved is a different story. But you shook off any negative thoughts when you reminded yourself about what Mingi had called you. Our girl. God, these men will be the death of you. Yunho didn’t have time to say anything as you quickly stood up, grabbing his shoulders tightly, much to your poor imbalance. His hands, without hesitation, gripped your hips, holding you close against his broad chest. You leaned in and kissed him quickly, desperately, but there was a hint of something more. A stillness, caringness behind his kiss, something that was screaming, more, more, more.

Yunho’s left hand fell from your hip, snaking to grab a handful of your ass cheek, giving it a rough squeeze. His action made you moan lowly into his mouth, his sharp inhale through his nose.

His action made you moan lowly into his mouth, followed by a sharp inhale through his nose. Without breaking the kiss, he walked with you tightly in his grasp before the back of your legs hit the desk softly. You understood instantly what he wanted, removing your hands from his shoulders and then placing them down onto the oak table. You push yourself up with the little strength you have left, letting him shimmy between your spread thighs. he finally pulled away from your lips, so he could look down to where his cock was resting on your soaked tummy, “such a pretty baby. So ready for whatever we want. Are you are good girl darling? Going to be my good girl?”

“Yes, Yuyu. I want to be your good girl. For both of you.” You felt tears welt against the crease of your eyelids. Your nails dig into the wood beneath you. He chuckled, feeling a sense of pride from just how easily you submit to him and Mingi. How willing you are. He wonders what else they could get up to if they were in more of a private setting…

“That’s it, baby. Now, take a deep breath.” Yunho knew he was much bigger than Mingi and even though he had prepped you and Mingi as fucked you senseless only a moment prior. He was still going to be a lot to take in. Girth and length. So you obeyed perfectly, taking in a deep, slow breath as you felt him slip inside you, inch by inch. Your mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape, following with a silent scream and brows scrunched. He was definitely the biggest you’ve ever felt before. You tilted your head back, letting Yunho dive straight for your jugular, sucking a harsh purple mark on your neck, that would be very visible later. You were going to have to hide that tomorrow, but for now, you basked in the feeling of his teeth, tongue, or lips, as he thrusted at a slow but intense pace. Your body felt like it was on fire like you were a fuse box crackling electricity through water. 

Everything was so sensitive.

And you needed more. Reaching up you grabbed Yunho's collar of his messy shirt, bringing his body close. His face nuzzled into your neck, snapping his hips at a pounding pace that quickly made you see stars. You were so close, just needed a little push, and then your eyes wander to a very desperate-looking Mingi with his fully hard cock again once again, pumping it like his life depended on it. His eyes were focused on the way Yunho's hips jackhammered into you, following the same rhythm with his fist. And that sight alone helps you climax, clenching tightly around Yunho’s cock, milking the older man for everything he had. 

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” He mumbled against your neck, biting down hard onto your shoulder as he emptied his seed deep inside your womb. Everything suddenly went still, quiet. Even Mingi had stopped, coming all over his hand from the entertainment had was gifting before him. Yunho's breath was pooling against your shoulder, while your nose nuzzled into his neck feeling his rapid pulse. There was nothing awkward about what had happened. But comfortable. Like you three were always meant to do this. Like all these games of cat and mouse were supposed to end up with you in their arms.

“So uh, another round back at ours?” Mingi’s question just caused you and Yunho both to laugh.

-

Special Tags : @acetruepunk @i-love-ateez @hwa-sangsbbygrl @therealcuppicake @smileydk @kpop-mixes

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[pinecipitation]

Pine,,,, smiling friends headcanons, how do you think each of the boys would react to their crush saying they feel safe with them :> if not all of them, your boy Alan and Charlie and Pim (asking for us both im shaking)

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER HCS

FIRST OF ALL,,,, HAIIII TEDDYYYY :3 ❤️💛 HELLO WIFE HI LOML…

second of all YESSS SMILING FRIENDS CONTENT WE R SO BACKKK let me get to work ‼️

word count: around 1.2k

authors note: oh my god this was in the works for like a month, I be procrastinating really hard i’m sorry gang 😔🤞 also I’m so sorry alans is so short despite him being my favorite one I’m fighting for my life in here man

CHARLIE: (s1e6)

charlie… is almost relieved to hear it, honestly would immediately flip a switch and do the very most to KEEP you as safe as you can be- but hide it in a playful manner. would carry you for the rest of your life if you asked, just because you inflated his ego.

The two of you are almost halfway in the enchanted forest, you walking in front of Charlie as you hold a little makeshift map in front of the two of you. The whole time Charlie is pointing out little shortcuts, you erasing and drawing paths over and over on the paper until a particularly strong gust of wind blow it away from the two of you, his shocked mouth open and yours would’ve opened if the pencil wasn’t still in your mouth. You didn’t want to say it, but you felt a little aggravated at him for losing your focus like that.

You stop to let him speed up in front of you, the two of you continuing onwards in silence before he speaks.

“Listen… I-“

“It’s fine, you go and I follow. I trust you.”

The minute those words left your mouth, Charlie immediately stops and turns to look at you, the clinks and clanks of his armor making it almost comedic.

“What?”

“…I said you could lead the way?-“

“No,” he shakes his head, the helmet shifting with him, “After that.”

You look at him quizzically, your arms awkward by your side as you look to the side then to him again.

“I trust you?”

What you couldn’t see was Charlie internally squealing like a little girl, happy that someone like you can allow themselves to be so carefree around him. Except you weren’t just someone; he’s unknowingly had a thing for you long enough to where it’s embarrassing that he hasn’t made a move. But, somehow, you telling him that made him understand why he got so nervous around you. Why he always felt let down whenever you had a different mission that day and couldn’t hang with him and Pim. Why he always slightly pulled aside the seat next to him in the office just so you’d sit next to him instead of across.

He finally realized he liked you.

But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

What he did do, however, was immediately grin and flex, his armor audibly showing him move as if he were showing off in a gym mirror.

“Well of course you do, I’d be concerned if you didn’t think a hero like me could protect you. I mean, look at me,” he plays along, successfully earning a chuckle from you before you roll your eyes and shift the bag on your shoulder before you keep moving ahead.

“Alright, hero- hey-!” Your joking manner was cut short as Charlie picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder as his laugh rockets off the trees around the two of you.

Your giggles and pleas to be let down drowned out as he thought about that sentence once more, thinking about what to do to hopefully hearing it again another time.

PIM: (s1e4)

pim….. he’d be so happy, would internally have a little panicked spongebob brain moment but on the outside he’s a stuttering blushing mess. as if he isn’t pink enough.

“Don’t worry, i’ll use this rock to mark the trees- we can find our way back easy!”

Pims words seemed like an echo, his happy go easy personality twenty minutes ago almost feeling like a warning now that the two of you crossed that bridge. The two of you just barely escaped the rain, logs and sticks discarded as the rickety cabin door you called shelter slammed shut.

You were both dripping, Pims cowboy outfit making wet stretching noises every time he stretched his leg or raised his arm. Your outfit was also drenched, a small rip or two from the thorns you pulled away from on the run here.

You were still kneeled over catching your breath as the thunder pursued outside, Pim shakingly clearing his throat before looking up at you with disappointed eyes.

“Listen,… I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it would rain or anything but even then I shouldn’t have taken us across the bridge, and now it’s my fault we’re here-,” he begins, his wet hat now in his hands as he stares down at his cowboy spurs. He only really looked up once he hears you interrupted him with a laugh, a sound he immediately feels his cheeks redden to.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain. We’ll be okay- plus, I feel safe with you. I know we’ll make it back fine.”

You were facing down trying to wring the water out of your hair and costume, thinking nothing of it, but to Pim?

To Pim, it meant everything.

He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he stares at you with his mouth slightly ajar, the redness in his cheeks instantly spreading to his nose and ears. It took two or three tries for him to get his words out, the clothes on him somehow feeling tighter the more he tried to express himself.

“You… you trust me??” The way his meek voice instantly made you straighten up and look at him, the barely there water in his eye almost making you feel guilty for saying it.

Immediately you went to go hold him, your hands wrapping around his back as he listens to you giggle out a ‘Of course! Pim, are you okay?’ and he nods in return. His hands interlock together behind your back, his cheek on your shoulder as he thanks you.

ALAN: (s2e3)

alan… my wife.. would definitely think about asking if you’re SURE. in that case, he’s taken it upon himself to keep his eyes on you like a HAWK, unfortunately intimidating everyone around the two of you.

You seem to feel oddly safe perusing the streets of CrimeVille, thinking back on everyone’s warnings of how dangerous the place was. This is too easy, you think, feeling like everyone was just exaggerating the state of where you two were. What you didn’t realize, however, was Alan shooting everyone the stink eye of the century as he walks behind you.

It wasn’t too long ago when you two left the OfficeCrap, the following conversation unexpected as you both walked out.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want you going to that part of town…” Alan mumbles, the soft mechanic noise of the sliding door behind you helping end his sentence. You only shake your head, shushing him before pronouncing how you’ll be fine, and you trust him to protecting you if anything.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the only thing Alan’s been thinking about since you left. Fortunately for Alan, being tall and having a somewhat stoic resting facial expression, he was very easy to intimidate anyone looking at you.

He almost walked like your shadow, hands in his pocket as he walks over you like a protective red totem, his blue tie occasionally brushing the top of your head as he looms over everything.

[cher-rei]

Hey babe

Your such a good writer please more lamine yamal fics im acc begging there literally none🙏🙏🙏🙏😪

the sitter— lamine yamal [ l.y ]

met you at the right time. this is what it feels like– feels like [gracie abrams]

pairing: lamine yamal x fem!reader

summary: a rushed call from lamine's mother to babysit kenye turns into more than just a regular afternoon

genre(s): toothrotting fluff (have your dentist on standby)

[w.c: 2.8k] masterlist

notes: I wrote this instead of watching the real sociedad match to cope with the fact that we're losing. I got a bit carried away with this one but I hope you like it <33

as you stepped into the familiar house, not even having to ring the doorbell you were greeted with the smell of fresh baked cookies and comfort. you shut the door behind you and easily walked through the familiar hallway.

when she saw you, lamine's mother's shoulders relaxed a heavy amount along with the breath of relief she let out. “my saviour,” she said with a smile and pulled you into a tight hug, her gratitude evident. “I'm so sorry for calling on short notice but I have an emergency— ow!”

she bit her tongue in frustration and looked down to see the toy car that she stepped on, her head spinning at her son's carelessness. “never have kids, you’ll regret it eventually,” she said half-joking and hurriedly led you to the living room where kenye was sitting on the floor, a toy car in his hand while he watched tv.

she didn't even have to call out to him, the second he saw you he was up and in your arms with a toothy grin. “hey, buddy. didn't expect to see me today did you?”

the older woman watched with a smile as you interacted with her son, the moment being cut off by her ringtone. she didn't even bother to look at it and instead grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the front door, yelling out instructions and goodbye's as if you hadn't been doing this for a year already.

“and thank you, sweetheart! I owe you! kenye, behave!”

the door slammed shut, leaving you to the 5 year old's energetic grasp. you quickly settled into your usual routine, skipping the snack part because he had his breakfast already since it was only after 10 am.

you took your usual seat on the carpet with him because he was usually full of energy this early and jittery. so to get it out of his system, you played games with him— built some lego, played with his toys and so on.

an hour had passed and you found yourself trying to make his yogurt seem edible. it was never an issue to get him to eat, all it took was one “hereeee comes the airplane” and he was more than compliant.

“there you go,” you said with a smile and lifted the final spoonful of yogurt to his lips, the boy clapping alone happily when it was finished. “you took that like a champ.”

that didn't last long however and he was starting to grow antsy again, his suffocated whines piercing your ears. it was obvious that he was sick of the house and needed to get out, so without another thought you cleaned him up and took him out to the backyard.

it was any kid's dream back there. a playhouse, jungle gym with a slide, a ball pit and his personal favourite— the mini football net that was more of a self indulgent addition from his older brother.

you'd known lamine for over 3 years now seeing that you attend the same high school but it was a cute coincidence that his mother picked you for the babysitting job. the job wasn't even needed, you were just bored and needed something to do on weekends, there wasn't even a proper answer for how she found you.

as you and kenye played in the sun-drenched backyard, laughter and joy radiated from your every move. the mini football net, a testament to lamine’s passion for the sport, stood like a sentinel awaiting kenye's energetic kicks. your eyes sparkled with delight as you cheered him on.

the air vibrated with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, infusing your playtime with an idyllic charm. kenye's giggles echoed throughout the yard, mingling with the chirping of the birds.

meanwhile inside the house, lamine stirred from his sleep, rubbing the remnants of sleep as he descended the stairs to look for his mother. he called for her a good few times but she didn't reply, so naturally he searched the kitchen and her bedroom only to realise that the house was awfully quiet.

she would of said something if she had something planned today, and the tv was still on so someone was definitely home. then he entered the living room, his feet padding on the tiled floor as his eyes adjusted to the light from outside.

with a yawn, he neared the sliding door to check the backyard, but just as he was about to open it his hand froze on the handle. his mind blanked, his immediate reaction to seeing you play with kenye being to hide behind the curtain.

his thoughts were reeling, not expecting you to come over today. in panic, he took one last peep outside which only made his pounding heart thump even louder at the sight of you passing the ball to his brother so effortlessly.

run. that's what he did when he got the clearance, not wasting a second to rush back upstairs and grab his phone and hit the facetime button in the group chat. after 3 rings, hector and pau were on the line with him— their confused faces synced as they watched the boy lock himself in his bathroom and start pacing.

“what happened to ‘hello'?” hector said, judgement evident in his tone but lamine didn't have time to fight his snarky comments.

he propped his phone up against the mirror and rushed to get his toothbrush, his palms sweating against the toothpaste tube.

“bro, are you going to tell us what's going on or is this some type of ‘get ready with me’ gimmick?” pau spoke up finally and put another spoonful of cereal his mouth, quickly getting distracted by the cover on the box and commenting on it.

“she's here. she's not supposed to be here today so I don't know why!” lamine muffled out through his mouth full of toothpaste but his friends got the gist of it. perks of knowing each other for nearly their entire lives.

hector couldn't suppress his laughter, his smile on the screen teasing lamine. “this is even funnier because it's actually never that deep.”

pau joined in on the laughter. “imagine asking why your brother's babysitter is over to babysit,” he snorted. “it's been a year, you're insane.”

lamine finished rinsing his mouth, double checking to see if there was anything in his teeth before splashing cold water on his face. “does it look like i just woke up?” he asked and touched up his hair. “is it giving ‘I just woke up and look this good’ or ‘I freaked out and had a panic attack in my bathroom’?”

his friends went silent, their jaws on the floor at the amount of overthinking that he was doing. he's liked you since he could remember. at first it was simple attraction, and then came the longing to know you more personally, and when he did that's when everything went to shit.

you were beautiful, that's for sure but you had this natural charm that he couldn't get enough of. you made an effort to talk to him, to help him with anything that he needed and your selflessness was barely the tip of the iceberg. family was the most important thing to him, and the fact that his family loved you and treated you as their own had him on his knees.

“it's giving, ‘I can't talk to girls I'm actually interested in'” hector deadpanned and pau was quick to follow.

“I got a better one,” he said in between his laughter. “It's giving, ‘professional winger by night, but professional wreck by day.”

the bathroom echoed with pau and hector’s non-stop laughter, both boys having rolled onto their sides by now while lamine stood with his head in his hands to try and calm himself down.

worst wingmen of the year, he liked to call them. the only advice he got was to breathe and not trip over his own feet. it was pathetic of him to let his attraction towards a girl make him this… messed up? but what was a teenage boy to do?

he put on his game face and made his way downstairs again, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw that you were watching kenye as he played in the ballpit.

when you turned around you saw him there, your heart skipping a beat as he opened the door with a warming smile. it was your turn to take a deep breath. “hey, I didn't know that you were home today,” you greeted cheerfully, you confidence oozing.

“yeah, we got the day off so I took the liberty to sleep in,” he answered a took a seat beside you on the grass to greet his brother who immediately threw one of the plastic balls at him.

laughter tickled at your throat as you watched lamine playfully throw them back at him but kenye took it personally and began hurling them at him. “we're going to have to put a warning sign on him or something,” you joked in between laughter and lamine scoffed.

“the real threat is his ability to kick a ball,” the footballer said with this lips pursed.

you playfully rolled your eyes at his comment. “oh, please, you're just mad because he already has better dribbling skills than you.”

lamine's face was contorted with mock offence, and he leant back on his hands to look at you. “are you talking about the same guy who won the kopa trophy less than 2 weeks ago.”

you couldn't shake off how laid back he looked in that moment. the way he was looking at you with such ease and playfulness made your head spin. “yes, yes I am.” you answered confidently to which he put a hand over his heart.

“you wound me,” he joked. “I'm going to start making you nurse me back to health.”

funny. he was joking. right?

kenye, thrilled by the attention hurled another ball at lamine to which his older brother caught and tossed it back at him with a gloat. “nice try, but we already have the backyard champion sitting next to me right now.”

you smile faltered for a moment. “that's only because you let me win.”

lameye's eyes twinkled as he took notice of your slightly flushed cheeks and he thought that maybe he was doing something right. “you literally crushed me.”

you shook your head at his retort, ready to counter his argument as you put your hands in the air, and swiftly as if it were second nature lamine gently took them into his own to stop you from talking further. “consider my ego bruised, you're just too good,” he joked with a shrug, his hands still holding yours.

it was for a moment that you stopped breathing, unable to function properly until you realised that kenye fell asleep in the ball pit. his light snores took the attention off from your banter and onto his peaceful figure that lamine effortlessly picked up and carried to his room.

when he came downstairs again, the house had gone quiet while you cleaned up kenye’s mess that he eventually helped with. “oh wow, okay mr house husband,” you teased and tossed one of the toys at him, his smile not wavering as he continued to help you in comfortable silence.

after lunch the two of you found yourselves in the backyard again, chatting as per normal while lamine kicked the ball at his feet. he ended up stopping mid sentence to propose an idea that you weren't too eager about. a rematch at what cost? your embarrassment?

unfortunately for you, he was persuasive as hell.

“what do I get if I win?” he shrugged at your question with a knowing smile.

“anything you want, amor.”

you nearly choked on air at the term of endearment that came from literally nowhere. he didn't seem fazed by saying it though so you were almost certain that you heard him wrong and pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on the little tournament in front of you.

the sun was high, the barcelona heat was warm on your skin as you watched lamine ready the ball. the game wasn't supposed to carry on for as long as it did, but both yours and his passionate calls for cheating and distractions played a huge role in the 40 minute rematch.

“okay, this is the last round I swear,” you said with a tired huff which he was more than happy with. the ball was at your feet for a split second before you felt lamine's hands on your waist, holding you close to his chest as he sneakily took the ball and shot it into the back of the net with ease.

you jaw dropped at the utter foulness of the round. “you cheater!” you said in shock and turned to look at him, but he was too busy relishing in his glory to care. he let go of you with a proud laugh and picked the ball up again, giving it one last kick.

“I didn't cheat,” he said through a cheeky smile and took a few steps towards you. “it's a contact sport, so it's fair.”

you rolled your eyes jokingly at his counter, still in disbelief that he'd go that far. but you weren't a spoilt sport so you congratulated him on his win, fair or not and he humbly thanked you.

you turned back with a smile and began heading inside but his hands were on your waist again, the familiar tingle setting your body on fire as he turned you to look at him, the smile on his face making your heart race.

“I'll be taking my prize, thank you,” he said with a boyish grin and let his lips gently brush your cheek, a gentle, fleeting kiss that had your knees weak for a split second.

he craned his neck to look down at you, a blushing mess and he couldn't help but coo even thought he was internally jumping off buildings. “aw, don't get shy on me now.”

you quirked your brow at what you took as a challenge, mild irritation clear in your eyes that were fluttered shut seconds later when your lips met his for what was supposed to be a quick peck.

keywords: supposed to be.

the feeling of your lips on his sent a surge of electricity through his body, and he couldn't waste the opportunity. he dropped the football that was underneath his arm and pulled you in, one hand resting on your cheek and the other on your waist as he relished the taste.

the long-awaited kiss finally came and it was everything that he hoped for and more. the way you melted into him, sent a warmth through his chest that had his head spinning and hoping that you'd never let go.

when you eventually pulled away to catch your breath, your lips tugged up into an amused smile at his lovestruck look and flushed cheeks. “isn't that a better prize?” you joked, your hands still loosely wrapped around his neck.

“I want a rematch, now,” he said immediately after, and pulled you back into the yard, his eagerness getting the best of him because he was not going down like this— “if I win then you have to marry me.”

“what?!”

[glitterjay]

— needy texts

⭒ pairing bf!jay x afab!reader. jealousy, fingering & oral (f receiving), jay has a size / daddy kink, humilation(?

⭒ what happens when y/n interrupts jay's night out with the boys?

jay was long gone out of jake's apartment, obviously sending a threatening glare towards heeseung, who threw his hands up in surrender. he knew what he had done.

all he could think of was the image of you struggling to please yourself alone at home. the buldge in his jeans was growing and growing with every second that passed. his hand was stern on the stirring wheel, veins popping from the force he was putting on it. he couldn't wait until he got home to devour you whole.

-

you heard the sound of your boyfriend's car pulling up in the driveway. you were sitting on the couch, legs wide open while you tried to finger yourself. ready for the man outside to step in at any moment.

and right on queue, jay walked into your shared apartment. his breath was heavy, and he was carrying the sweater you remember he had on when he left. he was standinf dumbfounded at the sight in front of him.

you were so small to the point where the sofa looked like a community pool. your fingers could hardly make it halfway into your hole, which was frustrating you. "i need you so bad, daddy".

that was enough to bring jay out of his trance. his steps were confident and steady. once he reached your figure, he slapped your hand away, opening your legs more (if that was even possible) and blew cold air directly into your heat.

this made you shiver under his touch, whining loudly as a way to tell him to do something. jay chuckled, going straight to the point. two his long and slender fingers digged into your pussy without a warning, making you scream in surpirse.

it ammused you how good his fingers alone made you feel. he knew just how to curl them right and what spots to hit. if there was someone who knew your insides like the back of their hand, that was jay.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hips bucking alongside jay's fingers, fucking yourself into them. "fuck, princess. i would cum here untouched just by watching you drown in pleasure". you moaned in response.

there was a sudden feeling of emptiness within you, which caused your eyes to open. jay had taken his fingers out of you, licking them as if he were a child who had just gotten a popsicle. this made you blush.

he stood from his spot on the floor, grabbing his phone from the little table next to the door. you, on the other hand, started pleasuring yourself again, desperate to feel that tingling sensation again.

"i didn't give you permission to touch yourlsef. im here now, darling. let me do the work. " his soft words were enough to have you melting in love. although he would fuck you until you'd forget your name, jay was always sure to slip in nice comments here and there.

your eyes widened when you heard his phone ring. he was calling someone. your hips rolled into the air, looking for something to create friction. your right hand had made its way to your mouth, covering it to muffle any cry of desperation that might slip out.

"jay?" asked the voice behind the phone. you hated that you knew it very well. "heeseung. i know you saw those pictures back there"

your face had gone 10 shades reder than it already was. you felt embarrassed, and for some reason, it made you excited. your pussy was dripping wet at the thought of heeseung being on the phone right at this moment.

you shot your boyfriend a glance with big glossy eyes, begging him silently to do something. to which he interrupted heeseung's million "sorry's".

"we can do something. you could tell from the pictures that she was needy, right?"

to which the oldest replied with a simple "yes"

jay started getting closer again, regaining his spot on the floor, face perfectly in front of your bare core. he slapped your pussy, making you jolt up. it was enough to make you yelp just loud enough for heeseung to hear over the phone.

"are you seriously making me hear you have sex with your girl?" he asked.

"do you not like it?"

there was silence. jay chuckled in response, taking a nice lick of your drenching pussy, which yet again made you yelp.

"just get in jake's bathroom or something. looks like my princess here likes to feel embarrassed and exposed."

© glitterjay | tumblr

rrraaahhhh i feel like this is horrible. if you would like another part with heeseung though... do let me know through my ask! i will make it if it's high demand, hehe

[ryuzakistoe]

Conflicted (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

angst, fem!reader, arguing, and uhhh basically all angst, childhood friends, swearing

a/n: after this I honestly have no idea who to do next. I'm kinda in between Isagi again or someone else🤷‍♀️

I also got this as inspiration

BTW IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE

(omg I finally got it to work omg)

——

Experiencing someone you love deeply suddenly transform into a stranger can feel like the ground has fallen away beneath you. The trust you placed in them, the cherished memories, the laughter shared—all of it can vanish in an instant, leaving you grappling with an unbearable emptiness.

In the face of such devastation, some cling desperately to hope, convinced that the past can be reclaimed. They construct fragile illusions to shield themselves from the harsh truth, believing that everything will somehow return to the way it was. But these comforting lies only deepen the wounds, which lie temporarily closed, waiting to reopen with even more agony.

How long could you endure this torment? Some carry this weight for a lifetime, while others crumble under the pressure far too soon. For you, how long will you hold on, waiting for that moment when you perhaps see him again? How long until the heaviness of his “explanation” crushes you? In the end, when the truth finally pierces through the lies you've built around your heart, how will you cope with the devastation and lies?

Thats up to you.

…🥀…

Frequent moves were a normal part of your life, given that your father, a businessman, was always busy either supporting or establishing new companies. Over time, you became accustomed to the constant change, no longer feeling as upset or frustrated about leaving behind new memories and friends.

With your mother having sadly passed away, your father was the only family you had. However, his demanding schedule often kept him away, leaving you with too much free time. You would often wander aimlessly, your father always worrying since you were still so young.

One day, during one of these aimless walks, you noticed a boy around your age dressed in dusty, worn clothes, playing with an old, worn out soccer ball. You found yourself standing there, captivated, as he skillfully shifted the ball from one foot to the other. The fluid motion of his dribbling drew you in, sparking a sense of fascination.

Eventually, the boy noticed your quiet admiration.

"Can I help you, gnädige Frau?" he asked, his thick German accent coloring his voice as he stopped the ball under his foot.

Since arriving in Germany a few months ago, you had made steady progress with the language. Your father insisted you familiarize yourself with the formalities and learn a good number of words, as speaking German would be essential for getting by.

"I was just watching you play," you replied, mirroring his language and matching the casual energy in his tone.

He regarded you for a moment, as though sizing you up, before speaking again. "Do you know how to play? Fußball, meine ich," he said, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated briefly. While you were familiar with the basics and rules of football, you'd never actually played it. Your most significant experience with the sport had been attending a game with your cousin—an exciting memory, but that was as far as it went.

"I'm not sure how to play, but I understand the basics and the rules," you admitted, glancing briefly at the soccer ball.

"Only the basics, huh?" he murmured, flicking the ball up with the same foot that had held it steady. It flew in the air before dropping neatly into his arms.

The blonde boy began to walk toward you, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. Stopping just a few feet away, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Y/n L/n," you answered softly.

"Y/n L/n…" he echoed, as if testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His eyes drifted to the side, and he repeated your name again, his tone thoughtful, as though trying to commit it to memory or decipher some hidden meaning within it.

“And what's your name?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

The blonde boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours again. "Michael Kaiser," he replied.

Without warning, he tossed the ball toward you, giving you no time to react. It landed between your feet, and you glanced down at it slowly.

"Kick the ball," he instructed.

You looked back up at Kaiser, processing his words. Kick the ball? That sounded simple enough. You positioned your foot carefully, recalling how professional players did it, and swung your leg forward.

The ball rolled back to Kaiser with surprising smoothness, considering you had little experience with football.

Catching it effortlessly with his foot, Kaiser smirked. "Not bad for someone who doesn't know how to play," he remarked.

You weren’t sure if he was being genuine or just mocking you. "Thanks," you mumbled quietly, watching as he shuffled the ball between his feet.

He suddenly paused, then said something that caught you off guard. "Play with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "But I told you, I don’t really know how to play."

"I'll teach you," he responded almost instantly, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. There was a longing in his voice, and you could understand why. It had clearly been a while since he'd had anyone to play with.

Kaiser was always alone. The other kids avoided him, seeing him as an oddball because of his scruffy clothes, unkempt hair, and the bruises that covered him—marks left by his father. They treated him like an outcast, believing there was something wrong with him.

While they ignored him, Kaiser watched from a distance, wishing he could join in, longing for the kind of companionship they took for granted.

He would often imagine himself in the place of one of the other kids, letting his mind create a vivid scene of joining in and having fun. It was as if his consciousness played alongside them while his real body stayed behind, observing from a distance.

But now, he had a real chance to play with someone, no longer just imagining the experience.

Kaiser began teaching you everything he knew about football. You didn’t become an instant expert, but you quickly gained a better understanding of the sport. It started simply, with the two of you passing the ball back and forth while he explained the basics. Gradually, he introduced more advanced moves, each one more challenging than the last.

Before long, you had learned almost everything he had to teach, and Kaiser was genuinely pleased. Finally, he had someone to share the game with—a real companion, not just a daydream.

Day after day, whenever your father was busy with work, you met up with Kaiser. The two of you would play quick soccer matches, though Kaiser usually came out on top. It didn’t matter to him who won; having someone to share his favorite pastime with was all he had ever wanted as of right now.

You found yourself enjoying his company too. Since moving here, you hadn’t had anyone to talk to, spending most of your free time wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar places. Meeting Kaiser changed that. He had become an important part of your life, and you could tell that he felt the same.

The time you spent together brought you happiness, and the bond you shared grew stronger with each passing day. But then, a few years later, everything began to change.

…🥀…

Kaiser was well aware of his growing feelings for you. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew all too well the risks of letting them show. But that didn't stop them from deepening. It only made it harder to ignore.

After years of hard work, he finally secured a spot on Bastard München’s football team—a dream realized, and you had been there through it all. You were always by his side, ready to support him whenever he needed it. You were the person he could lean on, and that meant everything to him.

Over time, he came to depend on you. There were days when it felt like you were the only one who truly understood him, when he found himself seeking you out for solace. Your presence brought him a sense of calm that no one else could.

He began to rely on you.

It was inevitable, really. Being around someone as steadfast and caring as you, his feelings naturally began to shift and grow into something more.

He started to notice the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you spoke, how his cheeks would flush at the sight of your smile. He noticed how much weight your words carried with him, how the sun seemed to light up your skin in a way that drew him in. He couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed inside him just from seeing you.

He began to notice everything. And as much as he loved these feelings, he hated them just as much.

This was exactly what he was afraid of—this so-called "love" that threatened to unravel him. The thought of being vulnerable, of exposing that side of himself, terrified him. As his reputation as the "Emperor" grew, so did his fear of appearing weak.

His skills, his ego, and you—they had all shaped who he was and brought him to this point. He couldn’t afford to risk that. It was only natural that he didn’t want to gamble away everything he had worked for. Throwing it all away over a feeling seemed like the height of foolishness.

But was all the arguing and shared anger really worth it?

No, not at all.

…

"Y/n, is it really that hard for you to just listen to me?”

"But why…? Why now?"

The look Kaiser gave you was unfamiliar, his eyes now cold and distant. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

How did it come to this?

…

In the past few days, something had changed in him. The warmth that once lit up his face whenever he saw you had vanished, replaced by a faint scowl. The way he looked at you now—like you were just another bothersome fan—stung in a way you couldn’t understand. Sometimes he would just ignore your presence entirely, leaving you in silence.

"Y/n, I won't say it again. Please, for once, just listen and go. I don’t want to see you right now."

"But Michael! You still haven't told me why!" The desperation in your voice hung in the air, unanswered.

But It was as if Kaiser had just… snapped. Was it your endless questions? Your desperate pleas? Or maybe it was the look in your eyes each time he tried to brush you off.

"You want the truth, Y/n? Fine. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. What did he mean? Had he always felt this way? If so, for how long? Were you too much for him?

A storm of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last, as you felt the sting of tears welling up.

"Michael… what…?" you whispered, your voice trembling and barely audible.

"You make me feel sick, Y/n. Nauseous." His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, as if the very act of saying it exhausted him.

A couple of tears managed to form in your eye sockets as you quietly murmured, “Michael…but why? Why do I make you feel like this? Was it something I did..—”

Kaiser clenched his jaw, frustration and bitterness seething beneath his words. How could you be so clueless?

“Yes, Y/N, you did do something—no, you did everything!” he burst out. “Every time you smile, I can’t look away. Your stupid hair falls just right and it’s distracting. Your annoying voice—it calms me, like some kind of spell. And your eyes, the way they look at me… I feel sick because of the warmth you put in my stomach. I hate that I look forward to your presence, that you’re all I think about, that I’ve developed these feelings for you—I hate it all!” His fists tightened, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising to his face.

Your eyes widened. Was this a confession? Were these compliments or just veiled insults? What was he trying to say?

You stared at him, speechless, before managing to whisper, “Michael… you… you have feelings for me?”

Kaiser glanced away, reluctant to admit it. But there was no denying it—this was, in its own way, almost a confession.

Mind you, Almost, a confession.

"I wish I didn’t." His voice was low, almost resigned, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips. Why would he want to bury something as powerful as this? It didn’t make sense.

"Michael… " you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "Why would you wish these feelings away? I… I could feel the same way about you, you know…"

He shook his head slowly, as if each movement was a struggle. When he spoke, his tone was firm but tinged with something that resembled sorrow. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. Even if you do, I can't accept it. I can’t accept us."

His words hit you like a cold gust of wind. "You mean… you wouldn't be able to return my feelings?" Your chest tightened as you forced out the question, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

Michael's silence was answer enough, but still, you couldn’t let it end there. "Well," you began, the words stumbling out before you could stop them, "I guess that’s just too bad because… I really do have feelings for you." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying how hard it was to admit, but the truth had taken root too deeply to be ignored.

You had begun to realize it months ago, maybe even longer. The symptoms of love crept in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first—the way his presence made you feel more alive, the longing to hear his voice even when he wasn’t around, the flutter in your chest with every small gesture. Now, standing in front of him, all those little moments coalesced into something undeniable. Yet, here you were, offering your heart to someone who refused to hold it.

You found yourself looking forward to every visit with him, craving the moments you could be near. Even though you saw each other regularly, it never felt like enough. You often caught yourself inventing excuses just to stay a little longer, clinging to each second as if it might be your last chance to be close.

Your gaze drifted toward him, hoping to catch his eye and find some sign of understanding there. But instead of meeting your gaze, he looked away, his expression guarded.

"As I said before, Y/n, I can't," he repeated, his voice steady but distant.

Frustration surged within you, a knot tightening in your chest. Why couldn’t he just explain? Why was he so determined to keep you at arm's length? "Michael, for heaven’s sake, just tell me why!" you demanded, your voice rising with a mix of irritation and desperation. "Why can’t you? We could figure this out… it doesn’t have to be this way."

You were exhausted—tired of the same vague answer, the same unyielding response. "I can’t" wasn’t good enough anymore. You needed the truth, a real reason to justify the wall he kept building between you.

Kaiser noticed the edge in your voice, and frustration flared in his eyes as he responded, his tone sharper than before. "Because I can't risk everything I’ve worked so hard for, Y/n! I’ve fought so hard to get where I am now, and I can't afford any distractions—not even love."

Distraction?

You blinked, his words hitting you like a slap. He thought this—whatever was between you—was just a distraction?

"H-huh…?" you breathed, the word barely audible as it slipped from your lips.

Kaiser tilted his head back, a bitter sigh escaping him as his jaw clenched in obvious irritation. "Did you not understand what I just said?" His voice dripped with exasperation, as though explaining himself was an exhausting chore.

You felt your brows draw together in a scowl, his words twisting in your mind. Of course, you heard him loud and clear, but all you could focus on was how cruel and dismissive he sounded. This whole "distraction" excuse felt like nothing but bullshit—a convenient shield to hide behind, rather than an honest reason.

"Is that what I am to you?" you said, your voice quivering with anger. It seems as if this was just another excuse of his.

His answer left you both hurt and furious, a bitter mix of emotions twisting inside you. Sure, you finally got the explanation you’d been pushing for, but this? This was what he had to say?

"Love… a distraction?" you echoed, your voice strained as you struggled to keep your composure. "Michael, are you serious right now?" You could barely recognize the man standing before you; this wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you thought you knew.

"Do I look like I'm making this up, Y/n?" he shot back, his tone icy and unyielding. "I can’t let anything interfere. I've worked too hard for what I have, and I won't risk losing it all just to chase after some fantasy. I can’t afford to be blinded by ‘love.’ I can’t afford to be weak. Not now." He took a step closer, his gaze piercing into yours.

You stared into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that once looked at you with warmth and admiration. Now, they were cold and hollow, carrying only frustration and something far more unsettling: emptiness. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had shed any trace of the person you thought you cared for.

"I want to be the best, and I can’t do that with emotions weighing me down," he said, his tone harsh and unyielding. "I need a clear path, free from distractions. Do you even realize how much I stand to lose if I let the smallest thing pull my focus? I could lose everything. I could end up weak… and that’s something I refuse to accept."

His words felt like a cold slap, each one slicing through you. "I’ve sacrificed so much just to get where I am today. So there it is, Y/n. I won’t let these emotions derail me. Not even for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, a silent testament to the heartbreak squeezing your chest. Was this really it? Was he just going to leave you behind because you didn’t fit into his perfect, distraction-free life? It felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath you.

"This is bullshit, Michael," you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "You’re just going to drop me like that? After everything? After all the times I’ve been there for you, stood by your side, supported you through every step of your soccer career—this is how you repay me? Do you even realize how messed up that is?"

Your voice rose, trembling with the frustration and betrayal burning inside you. "You can’t just cut me out because I don’t fit neatly into your plans. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice rose, laced with frustration. "Yes, Y/n, I’m going to leave you! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. I’ve come too far to let ‘love’ make me weak—I’ll lose it all!"

"Why can’t you see that love won’t make you weak?" you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

"Tch. I already told you—it’s a distraction," he shot back, his tone cold and dismissive.

Each word felt like a dagger, piercing deeper as he repeated the same relentless argument, as if mocking the very idea of you. He was unyielding, his walls built so high that nothing you said could seem to reach him.

"So that’s it, then?" you murmured, your voice trembling as tears stung your eyes. "All of it? All of this—even me—it’s just a distraction?"

For a split second, something in his expression wavered. The guilt in his eyes betrayed him as he saw the hurt etched across your face. But just as quickly, he masked it, his pride and stubbornness locking him in place. He stayed silent, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

The truth was, when you first told him how you felt, a spark of joy had flickered inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, with every pained word that left your lips, he buried that feeling deeper, forcing it down beneath the weight of his ambition. He couldn’t afford to let you see it. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel it.

It pained him to see you like this, knowing he was the cause. He never intended to hurt you like this—never imagined he’d be the one to break your heart.

Of course, his ambitions meant more to him than his "best friend." That was the cruel truth—his future outweighed everything, even you.

The silence stretched between you until you finally broke it, your voice trembling. "Is that a yes or a no, Michael? Please… just answer me."

His gaze softened at the sight of you, your face etched with desperation and pain. He truly felt bad—guilt clawed at him—but he couldn’t let it sway him. He believed this was necessary. He believed it was for the best.

"Yes," he said quietly.

The word hit you like a blow, and your head dropped, a broken breath escaping your lips. You never thought it would come to this—never imagined this was how the two of you would part ways.

Quiet sobs began to slip from you, growing louder with each passing second as tears streamed down your cheeks. Soon, the dam broke, and you were wailing into your hands, trying in vain to wipe away the endless flow of tears. Your heart ached with a hollow emptiness that spread through your chest—the same emptiness that Michael once filled, now torn wide open.

It felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away. You and Michael had been through hell and back together, always supporting and lifting each other up. Now, there was a cold, hollow place in your heart where he used to be, a void that felt unbearable.

After a moment, you forced yourself to look up, only to see him walking away, the distance between you growing with every step.

"Michael… mein Schatz… come back… please…" you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't do this without you…" But he was already too far to hear, your pleas swallowed up by the empty space between you.

Kaiser kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own feet carry him further away. He didn’t dare look back. "Goodbye, meine Liebe…" he murmured softly, the words escaping like a breath.

a/n: so I actually kinda took my time with this so I hope its better 😐

Also I just rewatched aot, tell me why I forgot how FINE jean was in s4🤧😫 (and Levi)

ANDDD IM ROCKING WITH BLLK S2🤤

I'm going to lick his tattoos bro