#It makes him feel confident! And he enjoys it! AND he looks good in it.

[hipstersfoundmyrobot]

Over the past ten years, Danny Fenton’s life has been a whirlwind, and that’s an understatement. Nonetheless, despite being the Ghost King and a consultant for the JLD as Phantom, Danny’s life is ordinary. Or as ordinary as a halfa king could manage.

Danny remembers being 17 and feeling so helpless and overwhelmed, especially when Jazz moved away for college. He didn’t expect that to be the end of his struggles. His sister coming back for Christmas break with the Justice League in tow was not on his bingo card, nor were his parents and Vlad being tried for supervillainy or the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW being a hoax. However, according to Tucker, the most surprising part of their senior year was their trio graduating with near-perfect attendance and good grades.

Nowadays, life is good for Danny. While his responsibilities as the High King of the Infinite Realms and his attachment to his haunt keep him from leaving Amity Park, he has found balance. After his identity as Phantom was revealed to the town, the community rallied in support of the half-dead teenager who saw his parents go to jail. Following Jazz’s insistence, he has enrolled in an online Astronomy and Engineering degree, which he finds much easier than high school. He doesn’t even have to worry about money, being the new owner of FentonWorks and DalvCo.

All in all, life is, finally, cutting the halfa some slack, which is why he now has more free time to fill, ergo his current situation. Sam, Tucker and Jazz are debating on his computer screen about what hobby he should try.

“Danny, dude, I’m telling you, you should take programming classes. We could make our own video game and-“Tucker’s excited rant cuts off as Jazz mutes the both of them.

“After the ecto-contamination of everyone in Amity, you’ll probably find a lot of people willing to join an environmentalist group. You know my activism rubbed off on you.” Sam’s voice is almost covered by the deep sigh that escapes Tucker and Danny can’t help but smile at his best friends’ antics.

“You guys, we’re trying to figure out something Danny would like. Baby brother, what is something you’d like to do ?” Danny can’t help but miss his sister when he sees her exasperated smile at his friends’ insistence that he tries something they like.

Leaning against his desk, his face in his hand, he shrugs, a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I did have an idea but I’m not sure.” On his screen, his sister’s face is open and supportive, meanwhile, Sam and Tucker don’t seem to have noticed they were inaudible. “I, maybe, wanted to try streaming ? You guys obviously don’t have as much time to play video games with me and it’s really not the same on my own… I like the idea of finding a community of people who enjoy listening to my weird space and ghost rants without having to leave Amity. Not that the Parkers aren’t my friends but—” He pushes his hair out of his face with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I want to meet new people ? But I don’t actually want to meet them.”

“That sounds great, Danny.” Jazz, supportive as always, finally unmutes the two.

“Yeah dude, I’m down to help you set it all up. You’re gonna need equipment-“

“And you’re gonna need to ectoproof it too. Are you going to hide your identity ? Acting like ghosts and your powers are the norm would be so funny.”

“Right, you could ask a ghost artist to make your channel art. You clearly already have a niche thing going, you know ?” His Fraid’s excitement makes Danny feel more confident in his idea.

“What do you guys think of the name CosmicSpecter ?”

Jason has been back in Gotham for about two years. His relationship with his family is still strained but it is improving. He has a good thing going with Red Hood and his gang. However, he is still plagued by the Pit Madness, despite his best efforts he still doesn’t feel like himself. Meanwhile, everyone around him has accepted, however reluctantly, that this is who he is now, but Jason refuses to. He knows this isn’t him, but he is resigned that the foreign rage trying to control him will torment him until his (next) dying breath.

Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s the scary TubeYou algorithm that has him clicking on the livestream thumbnail while tittering close to the Pit Rage. The guy has 463 subscribers and 6 current viewers and he’s halfway through a burrito when Jason joins. The light is dim, and his eyes seem to be reflecting the light. A meta, maybe ?

“Hiya ‘botched-resurrection’, nice to see a fellow undead here.” He takes a swig of a too green liquid from a soda bottle and flashes the camera with a wide smile. “We’ll go back to playing once I’m done eating. This new joint opened a few years ago, since our town isn’t under a fake government lockdown anymore, and honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised. My sister is probably relieved I’m eating something other than a burger.” The guy’s eyes widen slightly when a $20 donation comes through from one ‘jazz_hands’. “Really Jazz ? ‘Twenty whole American dollars in hopes you’ll eat healthier food one day’. There are real vegetables in here you know ? You’re being too harsh. Also stop sending me money as an excuse to embarrass me on stream.”

This is the start of the prologue I'm posting on ao3 tomorrow probably, I'll link once it's up

Streamer Danny AU, but he’s a really minor streamer. Like, he does it mainly just for his own fun and only has a few intermittent viewers.

But somehow Jason finds his channel anyway, and something about his voice is captivating. The pit rage quiets down in his presence. So he starts tuning in to basically every stream, or just putting on the VODs in the background to fall asleep to.

And on the other side, Danny takes note of this new subscriber who’s quite possibly his first truly dedicated viewer. So he starts interacting with him on stream sometimes - greeting him when he shows up in the chat, specifically asking/answering questions, etc

Needless to say, this did not help Jason’s growing semi-parasocial crush in the slightest…

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel it - Part 1

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist Here

Summary- You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

••••••••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••••••••••

Part 1- The Beginning of a Game

The party at Topper’s house was in full swing. The air was thick with the scent of salt, sweat, and the faint smokiness of a bonfire burning somewhere in the distance. Music pulsed through the backyard, blending with the sound of drunken laughter and the occasional splash from someone jumping into the pool. It was one of those nights that felt endless, where the heat of the summer clung to your skin and time blurred between drinks and conversations.

And yet, despite the crowd, despite the energy, you felt frozen in place.

Your stomach twisted as your eyes locked onto the scene in front of you. Alex. With someone new.

He sat on the outdoor couch, drink in hand, his head tipped back in laughter at something the girl beside him had said. She was pretty—of course she was. Long sun-kissed legs, a perfectly put-together outfit that screamed effortless, and a confidence that made it obvious she had no doubts about where she stood with him. Unlike you. Unlike the way you had felt when you were with him—always wondering if you were reading too much into things, if his sweet words meant something more, if the way he looked at you held the same depth as the way you looked at him.

Turns out, it hadn’t.

Because when you’d finally worked up the courage to ask where you stood, to ask if he wanted more, Alex had fed you the same tired line you’d heard before: I’m not ready for a relationship.

And yet, here he was. Looking very ready.

Your grip tightened around the plastic cup in your hand, the cheap liquor inside suddenly making your stomach churn. It wasn’t that you wanted him back—you didn’t. But seeing him move on so easily, so carelessly, like what you had meant nothing… it stung. Worse than you wanted to admit.

You tore your gaze away, exhaling sharply, forcing yourself to shake it off. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to you. You were better than that.

“You look like you’re about two seconds away from throwing that drink at someone’s head.”

The familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to find Rafe Cameron standing beside you, his usual cocky smirk in place. He was nursing a beer, looking effortlessly relaxed in a white button-down left undone just enough to hint at a tan and toned chest. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement as he studied you.

You rolled your eyes, attempting to play it off. “Just enjoying the party.”

“Yeah?” Rafe took a sip of his beer, raising an eyebrow. “Because you look like you’re mentally plotting someone’s downfall.”

You scoffed. “If I was, you’d be the first to know.”

“Good to know,” he mused, tilting his head as he followed your previous line of sight. It didn’t take him long to spot Alex, and when he did, something in his expression shifted—just a flicker of understanding before the smirk returned. “Ah. Got it.”

You crossed your arms, defensive. “There’s nothing to get.”

“Sure.” Rafe dragged the word out, clearly not buying it.

You huffed, looking away. The last thing you wanted was to talk about Alex with Rafe Cameron, of all people. You and Rafe had always been… something between friends and playful antagonists. He was cocky, irritating, and had a habit of pushing your buttons just to see how far he could go. But he was also fun. Easy to talk to when he wanted to be. And right now, his presence was a distraction you desperately needed.

But before you could steer the conversation elsewhere, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

“Raaaafe!”

You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

Amelia.

The girl had been attached to Rafe like a leech ever since they’d hooked up at a party months ago. And despite Rafe making it clear he wasn’t interested in anything more, Amelia refused to take the hint. She always found a way to be near him, touching his arm, laughing too loudly at his jokes, batting her lashes in a way that might have been charming if it weren’t so painfully desperate.

Sure enough, when you glanced over, Amelia was already making her way toward Rafe, her blonde curls bouncing, her expression expectant.

Rafe let out a quiet groan, running a hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You smirked. “Looks like she found you.”

“She always does.” He glanced at you then, something calculating flashing in his gaze. And just like that, an idea struck. A terrible, impulsive, reckless idea.

“Want some help?” you asked casually, swirling the liquid in your cup.

Rafe gave you a wary look. “Help how?”

You turned toward him fully, standing just a little closer. Close enough that if someone were looking—if Amelia were looking—it would seem like something was going on between you two.

“Play along,” you murmured just as Amelia reached you both.

You didn’t give him time to question it. Instead, you turned to face him, resting a hand on his chest like it was second nature. “Ye babe,” you said, voice just loud enough for Amelia to hear. “I definitely think we should go on that trip.”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard for only a second before he caught on. A slow smirk spread across his lips. “Sure baby,” he drawled, slipping an arm around your waist. “Just you and me.”

You barely had time to process the way his hand rested against the small of your back before Amelia’s face twisted into shock. “Wait… you two are—?”

“Together?” Rafe finished, pulling you even closer. “Yeah. Thought you knew.”

You bit back a grin as Amelia’s eyes darted between the two of you, disbelief and irritation warring in her expression. It was almost too easy.

“Oh,” she said after a moment, clearly struggling to process. “I just… I didn’t realize. You never said anything.”

Rafe shrugged. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

You leaned into him slightly, playing with the fabric of his shirt. “We’ve been keeping things low-key,” you added smoothly. “But, you know, kind of hard now that everyone’s starting to notice.”

Amelia looked like she had just bitten into something sour. “Right. Well… I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, sounding almost bored now. “Anyway, we were kind of in the middle of something, so…”

Amelia hesitated, looking like she wanted to argue, but for once, she seemed to realize there was no point. With a forced smile, she nodded. “Of course. I’ll… see you later.”

The second she walked away, you exhaled, stepping back slightly. “Well. That was fun.”

Rafe chuckled, dropping his arm from your waist but not moving far. “Not bad, princess. You almost had me convinced.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the small thrill running through you. Maybe it was just the game of it, the ease in which you’d both fallen into the act. Or maybe it was the way you had caught sight of Alex from across the party—his jaw clenched, his eyes burning into the back of Rafe’s head.

Interesting.

“Maybe we should keep this up,” you mused, glancing at Rafe. “You get Amelia off your back, and… well, let’s just say Alex didn’t look too happy just now.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. Then, slowly, he grinned.

“Let the games begin, then.”

——————————

Let me know what you think! Are you ready for part 2?

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 2 • JEY USO

author's note: happy valentines' day my beautiful angels💌 I hope you are having an amazing day, whether you have a special someone or not, I love each and every single one of you🥰 part two of SLC is hot and fresh for y'all, just like part one it'll be short n' sweet but with a little bit of heat this time as promised😌 I hope you enjoy and happy reading💗!

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI), time-lapse, slow burn, lap dances, flirty banter, teasing, kissing, touches, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, jey is a certified munch™, daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, mama, baby, babygirl), these mfs don't even know they're in love already (well jey does but cherise? poor baby needs a little help).

word count: 2.6k words

read part one here!

soundtrack playlist

3 months later…

Nursing school wasn’t a walk in the park.

Cherise sat at a cramped desk in the back corner of the library, eyes flickering between the highlighted notes in her textbook, a whiteboard full of her scribbled thoughts, and the lukewarm iced caramel latte beside her. Her braids were up in a bun, her glasses perched low on her nose, her purple scrubs wrinkled against her frame.

Nothing about her in this moment screamed Candy.

No stilettos. No glittering lingerie. No sultry confidence.

Just Cherise.

Quiet, focused, tired as hell.

Balancing school and dancing wasn’t easy, but it paid the bills. The club gave her freedom—let her work when she wanted, let her make rent in a single night sometimes and maybe give her a boost a confidence. It wasn’t forever, but for now? It worked like a charm.

Still, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to only be Cherise.

No stage names. No personas. No men sexualizing her with grabby hands and ravenous looks in their eyes.

No thoughts about a certain wrestler who disappeared on her for months. She hated that she even thought about him. It wasn’t like she expected him to chase her, but still…That night had lingered.

The way he touched her. The way he talked to her, teased her, made her feel like he actually saw her as a human. He was smooth, but it never felt like a pick-up line with him.

And then…nothing.

Not a single glimpse of him at the club since.

She wasn’t pressed, though. She had other things to worry about. Like passing her damn pharmacology exam. Cherise sighed, rubbing her temple. She needed a break.

And a drink.

Which meant…

Back to the club.

♡

Cherise had been backstage, touching up her lip gloss, her hair, and fixing her outfit, when Trinity had strutted up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You got a visitor, sweets.”

"Huh?" Cherise barely glanced up, adjusting the strap of her tiny lace bra. "Who?"

"That fine-ass Samoan you was tryna act like you ain’t been thinkin’ about."

Cherise froze.

Her stomach flipped. Her heart kicked up a notch.

"Shut up."

"I ain’t lyin’." Trinity leaned in, whispering.  "Jey is in VIP right now, waitin’ on you girl. Cherise felt heat creep up her neck. She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, forced her face into Candy’s confident smirk.  "That man ain’t nothin’ special."

Trinity laughed.  "Girl, if you don’t take yo’ ass out there so I can get Jim all to myself…”

So she did.

♡

And when she pushed open that VIP door? He was right there, sitting back on the couch like he owned the place.

Clad in a blue Nike fleece tracksuit. Thick thighs spread wide.  He had a gold grill peeking out when he grinned, one hand resting lazily on his knee, the other draped over the couch.

Looking good as hell.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"Damn, ma… took you long enough." His voice was slow, teasing.

"Didn’t know you still remembered me." She smirked, sauntering closer, deliberately dragging her nails down his chest as she straddled him. "Been a minute, Joshua."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, hands settling right on her hips.  “You miss me, baby?"

"Mmm." She rolled her hips just enough to make him suck in a breath.  "I shouldn’t… but maybe a little."

"That’s cute." His hands slid lower, squeezing the curve of her ass.  "Been busy, mama. Mania comin’ up. You know how it is."

"Do I?" She arched a brow. "I wouldn’t know, since somebody ain’t keep in touch."

"Damn…" Jey chuckled, gripping her tighter. "That what we doin’?  You tryna guilt trip me ‘cause I got a job?"

"I’m just sayin’." She traced the chain around his neck, lips barely brushing his jaw. "I give a man my name and he vanish on me.  Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

"Nah, see it ain’t even like that…” His grip flexed on her hips, voice dipping lower.  "I was tryna be respectful, baby girl."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He smirked, leaning in.  "’Cause the way I wanted you last time? I’d have fucked you silly if we weren’t on a time limit." Cherise shivered, heat flooding her stomach.

Jey felt it too, the way her thighs twitched in his lap.

"Mmm…" He licked his lips, voice thick with heat.  "See that, baby?  You tryna act all tough, but you feel me talkin’ to you, huh?"

"Shut up." She should have more control over this, more restraint, but Jey was dangerous. He could see through her entire ‘Candy’ act like cellophane. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Why? ‘Cause you know I’m right?" Her breath hitched. Jey groaned, voice gravelly. "I’on like unfinished business, baby girl. You left me high and dry last time."

"Maybe I like making you work for it."

"Yeah?" His fingers trailed between her thighs, barely grazing the heat of her pussy.  "Then lemme clock in, mama." Cherise gasped, hips jerking. "Jey-”

"Shhh." He kissed her, slow and deep, groaning into her mouth as he slid his hand into her panties. "Mmm, baby…" His fingers brushed against her slick folds, teasing, just barely pressing inside. "You feel so good, damn."

She whimpered, biting her lip.  "Jey-”

"Nah, I got you, mama."* He sucked at her throat, voice husky.  “I’m gon’ take real good care of you."

Something about the way he said that sentence made her almost want to melt away all of her resolve and let him take complete control over her.

Almost.

A shudder rolled through her. Jey noticed.

“Aww.” His grin was wicked.  “Is that what you need baby?”

Cherise’s breath hitched.  “Just…shut up and do something..”

"Oh, I’ma do more than that."

His fingers found her clit, swollen and throbbing, rubbing the nub in slow circles. Cherise gasped, hips jerking into his touch, her body betraying her even though she wanted to play this game a little longer.

"Shit…" He licked his lips, his free hand gripping her thigh, spreading her wider over his lap.  "You been sittin’ here actin’ like I ain't been on your mind, but this lil’ pussy tellin’ me somethin’ different, mama."

Cherise bit back a whimper, glaring down at him.  "You talk too much."

"And you still soakin’ my hand.” His fingers slid through her slick folds, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure where she needed it.  "Mmm, damn, baby… I missed this."

"You ain’t even had it yet, Jey."

"Not yet." His grin was pure sin, eyes locked on her face as he dipped one thick finger inside her, slowly.  "But I’ma take my time wit’ you.”

Cherise’s head tipped back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips. Jey felt the way she clenched around him, her hips subtly rolling to meet the slow pump of his hand. "That’s it, baby girl…" His voice was dark, husky, dragging his finger out almost all the way before pressing another one inside.  "Let Daddy feel you."

A full-body shudder rolled through her.

Jey smirked. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Cherise bit her lip, cheeks heating, but she wasn’t about to admit anything.

"Mmm." Jey kissed her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her skin as his fingers curled, pressing just right against her g-spot. "Don’t gotta say it, pretty girl.  Your body already tellin’ me everything I need to know."

"Fuck…" Cherise whimpered, fingers curling into his hoodie as pleasure spiked through her. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, mama." Jey’s pace picked up, his fingers thrusting deeper, rougher, messier. "You hear that?" He groaned, grinding his palm against her clit. "Listen to this lil’ pussy, drippin’ all over my hand, damn…"

Cherise could hear it—lewd, sticky, wet sounds echoing in the dimly lit room.

Her breath hitched, hips bucking against his touch. "Jey-“

"Nah, baby, we ain’t done yet." His hand suddenly disappeared from her panties, making her whine at the loss.

Jey grabbed her by the waist and flipped her, laying her back on the couch, his body looming over her, heat radiating from him like a furnace. "Been waitin’ too long for this, mama…" He licked his lips, gaze locked right between her thighs as he spread them apart. "Lemme taste you, baby."

Before she could protest—not that she even wanted to—Jey lowered himself, dragging her panties down to her ankles with his fingers. "Ohhh, fuck…" His voice dropped an octave, eyes dark with pure hunger.  "Goddamn, baby… look at you."

Cherise squirmed under his stare, trying not to let it affect her. "You gon’ eat or just sit there and admire?" Jey chuckled, but his grip on her thighs tightened.  "Nah, I gotta take a second, baby… You just got a pretty fuckin’ pussy baby… shit, I knew you would." She whimpered, clenching at his words.

Jey could sense it.

"Awww, baby…" He grinned, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.  "She likes when I talk to her, huh?” Cherise’s face burned, but before she could throw out a smart remark, Jey’s tongue pressed against her clit.

"Ohhh fuck!” Her hips jerked, but Jey held her down, hands locked around her thighs as he devoured her. "Mmm, there we go…" he moaned into her, lips wrapping around her swollen clit, sucking slow, deep, dirty.  "Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby… goddamn…"

Cherise’s fingers flew to his short curls, gripping tight as he worked her with his tongue.  "Jey… oh my God-“

"Mmm-hmm…" Jey hummed against her, sending vibrations straight to her core. "You like that, baby? Feel good?"

"Y-yeah—fuck—" She gasped, thighs trembling.

Jey smirked against her, dipping lower, tongue dragging through her folds, fucking her with slow, teasing licks. "Mmm, yeah… gon' fuck around and give me a sweet tooth, mama."

Cherise let out a shaky moan, back arching as he flattened his tongue against her again, again, sucking, licking, tasting like he was starving.

"You close, baby girl?" Jey murmured, voice dripping with sin as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right.  "C’mon, mama… make a mess on my tongue."

"Jey—fuck, I’m cumming—ohhhh!" Her body snapped, pleasure ripping through her as her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave. Jey groaned, keeping his tongue and fingers right where she needed them, working her through every aftershock, swallowing every drop of her arousal.

"Mmm, good girl…" His voice was pure gravel, lips shiny with her slick as he finally pulled back, dragging his tongue over his lips like he wanted to savor the taste.  "Damn, I love this lil’ pussy, baby… look at her, still twitchin’ for me…"

Cherise could barely move.

Her legs shook, body weak, head spinning.

Jey grinned, leaning down, kissing her slow, deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "See what you been missin’, mama?" She hummed against his lips, still floating. "Mmm… maybe you should remind me again…"

Jey chuckled, nipping at her bottom lip.  "You bad, girl…"

A sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

"Time’s up, Candy!”

Jey let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead against hers.  "Man… fuck."

Cherise giggled breathlessly, brushing her fingers down his jaw.  "Guess that’s my cue.”

The knock on the door lingered in the room like an unwelcome intruder. Cherise sighed, pushing her trembling thighs together, body still buzzing from the way Jey had just worked her like he owned her.

This man is dangerous.

Jey sat back on the couch, one arm slung across the top, legs still spread like he had all the time in the world.  His smirk was lazy, smug, and damn near irresistible.

"Time’s up, huh?" He licked his lips, his hand sliding down his face as he looked her over. "They ain’t even let me finish makin’ you mine, mama."

"Please." Cherise rolled her eyes, smoothing her hands over her thighs before standing on slightly shaky legs. "I think you finished plenty, Joshua."

The way she said his name had him sitting up straighter, that cocky grin softening into something warmer.  "Damn, you really like callin’ me that huh?”

"What else would I call you?" she teased, bending slightly to grab her panties and pull them back up to her hips.

His gaze didn’t miss a thing, the soft, teasing shift of her voice, the way her hands moved over her body.

"I could think of a few things." His tone was low, playful, with just enough edge to let her know he wasn’t entirely joking.  "Daddy would sound real good comin’ from your mouth."

Cherise’s lips parted, blood rushing to her ears, but she only shook her head and smirked as she reached for his hand.  "You gon’ keep playin’, or you gon’ let me write this number down before I change my mind?"

"Go on, then." He handed her a pen, his gaze steady as she took his hand, her nails lightly grazing his palm as she began writing. "I don’t usually do this," she murmured, her voice quieter now, softer than her Candy facade. "You better not make me regret it."

Jey tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Mama, you really think I’d fumble somethin’ like this?"

"Mmm, I guess we’ll see." She capped the pen, slipping it back to him, but didn’t pull her hand away just yet.  Her fingers lingered against his for a moment longer, and when she looked up, Jey was staring at her like she was his whole world.

"Get home safe," she said softly, her voice more Cherise than Candy now.

"You too, pretty girl."* He gave her a smile, the kind that wasn’t cocky but genuine, the kind that made her stomach flip.  "Don’t be actin’ shy when I hit your line, though."

She laughed quietly, adjusting her skimpy outfit.  "I’ll think about it."

And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving him alone in the quiet heat of the VIP room.

♡

The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city drifting in through the cracked window.  Cherise lays in bed, tangled in her cozy blankets, her body still sore, her mind still replaying the night in vivid detail.

She didn’t even know why she’d given him her number. It completely out of character for her. She didn’t do things like this—getting caught up with clients, letting them get under her skin.

But Jey…

Joshua.

Something about him felt different.

Her phone vibrated on the pillow beside her, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the darkness.

Her heart skipped.

She reached for it, thumb swiping over the screen, and there it was.

Unknown number: You still up, baby girl?

She smiled, biting her lip as she stared at the text for a moment.  Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Cherise: Maybe. Why? 👀

The three little dots appeared immediately.

Jey: ’Cause I’m thinkin’ bout you. 😘

Her stomach flipped.

Cherise: Oh really?

Jey: Hell yeah. Shit, I can still taste you on my lips, baby girl. 👅

Her cheeks burned, her thighs pressing together at the memory.

Cherise: You’re ridiculous🙄

Jey: Nah, I’m serious. Been waitin’ three months to see you again, and now all I can think about is how bad I wanna see you outta that club.

Cherise blinked, rereading the text twice, her breath catching in her throat.

He wanted to see her again?  Outside the club?

Cherise: I don’t know if that’s a good idea…

The reply came almost instantly.

Jey: Why not? You scared I’ma make you fall in love wit’ me?😏

She rolled her eyes at the screen, but her heart was beating a little too fast.

Cherise: Boy, goodnight. 

Jey: Goodnight, pretty girl.  Sweet dreams. ♥️

She set the phone down beside her, staring at the ceiling with a quiet smile on her lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But damn, it felt good.

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[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Baby you are the baddest

Baby you are the baddest, baby you are the baddest girl

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 u 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆? 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

Characters - nanami kento , gojo Satoru and Suguru geto

Warning ⚠️ : contains suggestive smut, sexual content!

Gojo Satoru

Jujutsu Tech was hosting a huge party for all the students and teachers, and as one of the teachers, you were excited at least, you tried to be. You had asked Gojo to accompany you, but he refused, saying he was the organizer and had things to handle. So, you arrived alone.

You were wearing

Beautiful Right? Right??

But the moment you stepped in, something felt off. The room was filled with stunning people your coworkers looking absolutely amazing, dressed to impress. You knew you were beautiful, you reminded yourself over and over, but tonight… you just weren’t feeling it.

Then you saw her.

Gojo’s ex.

She was wearing blue too, but hers was a deeper, richer shade. Her dress was shorter, hugging her figure in all the right places. She looked effortlessly stunning, drawing attention from every corner of the room. Compliments flooded her way, and with each one, your confidence sank a little more.

Before you could spiral any further, a loud voice echoed through the room.

"ATTENTION!"

Gojo.

He cleared his throat, a smug grin already forming. Then, as expected, he started the program with one of his signature flirty lines something smooth, playful, the kind of thing he always did. Normally, you’d just roll your eyes, maybe even laugh.

But tonight?

Tonight, it just made you feel worse.

Everyone clapped, the room filled with cheers and applause. Lost in your thoughts, you barely reacted until Utahime lightly smacked your arm, snapping you out of it.

“Come on, at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” she muttered.

You let out an awkward snort, forcing a small laugh as you clapped along with the crowd. But no matter how much you tried to play along, that sinking feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, but the moment they landed on you his breath hitched.

For a second, his mind went completely blank.

Why the hell were you looking like that in front of them? Dressed so beautifully, so effortlessly stunning, yet standing there with an unsure look on your face? It made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t expect.

And the worst part? He was the one organizing this damn event meaning he couldn’t just walk over to you, couldn’t pull you aside, couldn’t do a damn thing about the way you were making his head spin.

Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating.

With every passing second, the insecurity crept in deeper. No matter how much you tried to shake it off, the feeling only got worse.

Then, between the chatters and musics, you heard a voice that made your stomach drop.

"Satoru was definitely checking me out. He still thinks about me. Maybe I can get him back." His ex..

Absolutely not. What the fuck?

"Hell nah, he has a girlfriend," her friend scoffed.

But she just waved it off, laughing dramatically before saying something that hit you like a punch to the gut.

"That girl? Yeah, she looks good, but be real would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?"

Her friend chuckled, brushing it off like it was nothing. But you?

You stood there, frozen.

And for the first time tonight, a terrible thought crossed your mind.

Maybe… just maybe… she was right.

You couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not anymore.

Your chest felt tight, your hands clenched at your sides as those words replayed in your head over and over again. Would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?

Maybe… maybe she was right. Maybe Satoru deserved someone better. Someone who could match his energy, his confidence someone who wouldn’t feel small next to him.

Your vision blurred slightly as you turned on your heel.

Hell nah, you were not staying here any longer.

Maybe you'd even

No. The thought hurt too much to finish.

But a small, painful voice in your head whispered anyway.

Maybe you should break up with him.

Gojo was stress-eating sweets.

He had been trying really trying to get you off his mind, but it wasn’t working. Every time he glanced in your direction, he felt that same frustration bubbling up again. Why the hell did you have to look so good tonight? And why did you look so sad?

He hadn’t even noticed his ex in the crowd. Didn’t care, didn’t want to care. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t exist.

He took a deep breath, ready to continue his speech, when something caught his eye you.

You were leaving.

His heart lurched. And were you… wiping tears?

His stomach twisted, but on the outside, he kept his usual grin. Flashing a charming smile to the crowd, he smoothly passed the mic to Geto without missing a beat.

Then, without hesitation, he followed you.

You walked outside, tears streaming down your face as you tried to steady your breathing. Your chest ached, and no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, they just wouldn’t leave.

Before you could take another step, you heard hurried footsteps behind you.

“Oi—”

Gojo caught up to you in an instant, his usual carefree presence feeling different this time. He let out an awkward laugh, but it wasn’t his usual teasing one. No, this one was tense forced. Because if someone had done this to you, if someone had hurt you enough to make you cry, he would fucking hollow them without hesitation.

This was the first time he had ever seen you like this.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt unsure.

His voice wavered slightly as he reached for you, hesitating before speaking.

“B-baby… who got you crying like that? Tell me, what’s happening?” He tried to mask the worry in his voice, tried to keep up his usual playful charm, but it was useless his concern for you was far too obvious.

You swallowed hard, looking up at him, your heart breaking before the words even left your mouth.

“Gojo… let’s put an end to this.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

His mind short-circuited.

What in the world did you just say?

He looked at you like he had just seen a ghost.

For a moment, he didn’t move just stood there, staring at you, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed your hand, gripping it tightly like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“It’s not time to joke, babe.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it something desperate, something scared.

But you only shook your head.

“I’m not kidding, Satoru.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “I looked at myself… and then at your ex… and I realized no, not realized, because it’s the truth you deserve someone better than me. Someone more attractive, someone at your level. After all… you’re the strongest sorcerer.”

You expected him to laugh it off, to tell you you were being ridiculous. But the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip on your hand tightened just a little more

He wasn’t laughing.

He was mad.

Not the kind of playful, teasing irritation he usually had no. This was different.

It wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment. Not at you, but at the fact that you his girl were standing here, crying, actually believing you weren’t enough for him.

His eyes darkened for a split second, jaw tightening as if he was holding something back. But then, just as quickly, he dismissed it, forcing a smile onto his face.

And if you were being honest… that smile scared you a little.

Before you could say anything, he moved.

Swift, effortless he scooped you up into his arms without warning, ignoring your startled gasp.

“Satoru what the hell?”

“Shh, sweetheart.” His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone that made your breath hitch.

Without another word, he carried you straight to the washroom, his grip firm, his expression unreadable.

He gently pulled you inside the bathroom and started to make out with you.

The moment he locked the door behind you, there were no words.

No hesitation.

Just him grabbing you, kissing you, devouring you.

It was rough, desperate, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that left you breathless. First, you had shown up looking so damn beautiful, completely stealing his focus. And then, you had the audacity to say you wanted to break up because you weren’t enough for him?

Enough for him?

Fucking enough for him?

You were everything to him. The most perfect, precious woman in the world. He saw perfection in every flaw you thought you had, and the fact that you couldn’t see it? The fact that you even doubted it?

It pissed him off.

His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something unreadable, something intense, before he let out a sharp breath and snorted a quiet laugh.

Then he kissed you again.

Again.

And again.

“Ooo, look at this woman,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something dark, something possessive. His hands trailed down, fingertips skimming over your thighs inner thighs, to be precise.

Your breath hitched.

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” Your voice wavered as you tried to gather your thoughts. “What if people-”

“They’re too busy, babe,” he cut in smoothly, lips brushing against your jaw as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles.

“But what if they catch us…” you whispered, your pulse racing. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and see this.

A smirk curled against your skin.

“I hope nobody catches us,” he hummed, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Then, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“But…” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, "I kinda hope they catch us"

You gasped, hands gripping onto his shoulders when his fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your heat.

“You wore blue for me, no?” His tone was teasing, but the satisfaction in his voice was undeniable.

It was true. You had wanted to look good tonight. But more than that, you knew blue was his favorite color.

And yet, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along your waistbandyou found yourself lowering your gaze , feeling shy.

"You are so gorgeous," he hummed against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, pressing slow, lingering kisses.

"Baby, you’re the baddest girl… nobody else matters. Not anyone. Only you."

His voice was low, dripping with conviction, and the way he said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world made your head spin.

It was almost like he was gaslighting you into believing you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist.

And fuck it was working.

He gently pushed your dress up to your waist, exposing your soft skin to the cool air. His touch was slow, deliberate like he was savoring every moment, every reaction.

Then, with the same maddening patience, he hooked his fingers around your panties and slid them down, removing them effortlessly.

But instead of tossing them aside, he smirked and casually slipped them into his pocket.

You gasped, your breath hitching as you instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth.

His smile only grew.

"Oh?" he mused, tilting his head, eyes dark with amusement. "Shy now, baby?"

You said nothing your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Each one sent a shiver down your spine, his lips warm, teasing, possessive.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping onto him as he moved lower, his kisses trailing along your collarbone.

Then, without breaking contact, you heard the soft clink of metal.

Your eyes flickered down just in time to see him unfastening his belt, the sound making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Satoru smirked against your skin.

"Still think I don’t want you, baby?" he murmured his voice dripping with amusement as he pulled his belt smoothly.

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face as he slowly slid the belt from its loops, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. His fingers moved next, unbuttoning his pants with agonizing slowness like he was giving you a chance to stop him, to protest, to run.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Not when his lips returned to your neck, kissing, biting, claiming you.

His hands roamed over your bare thighs, squeezing, kneading his touch firm yet teasing, possessive yet gentle. He was so big, his presence alone swallowing you whole.

"Still quiet?" he murmured, voice laced with amusement as his fingers traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. "Not gonna fight me on this?"

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped higher, parting your thighs with ease.

"Satoru—"

"Shh, sweetheart." His thumb brushed against your clit, barely applying pressure, yet it was enough to send a shiver through you.

Your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip was firm.

"Uh-uh," he tutted, his other hand gripping your hip. "You’re not running from me now."

You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into his arms as he kept up his slow, torturous pace, his touch deliberate, calculated meant to break you.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping lower, thick with something dark and dangerous.

"Let me show you just how fucking perfect you are."

And that’s how it was Satoru making love to you in the bathroom, his touch reverent yet desperate, like he needed to prove something to you.

You muffled your gasps and moans, biting your lip, your hands gripping onto him as he moved against you, within you, filling every inch of your senses.

His eyes never left yours, filled with something deeper than lust something raw, devoted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses wherever he could reach.

“So fucking perfect for me.”

He watched you intently, drinking in every expression, every quiet sound, and when you looked up at him desperate, vulnerable he swore under his breath, leaning in to kiss you again.

As if he could make you feel just how much he meant every word.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop touching you, didn’t stop kissing you, didn’t stop whispering words that made your chest ache and your stomach tighten.

"God, baby… you have no idea what you do to me." His voice was hoarse, filled with something dangerous, something utterly worshipful.

"You’re not just beautiful. You’re stunning. The kind of gorgeous that makes people stop and stare, but they don’t even know the half of it."

His hands slid over your body, tracing every curve, every inch of skin like he was memorizing you.

"It’s not just your looks, sweetheart." He pressed a lingering kiss to your collarbone, then another, his lips trailing up your neck. "You. It’s you. Your smile, your laugh, your stubborn little attitude that drives me crazy."

You whimpered when he thrust deeper, and he groaned at the way you clenched around him.

"You’re so fucking smart, too," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "The way you think, the way your mind works I swear, it’s the sexiest thing about you."

His fingers threaded through yours, pinning your hand above your head as he met your gaze.

"And don’t even get me started on how kind you are," he breathed, his tone almost pained. "You care so much about everything, about everyone but you don’t even realize how easy it is to love you."

Your heart clenched.

"You are everything to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "So don’t you ever say you’re not enough for me again."

Then, with a smirk, he tilted his head and added,

"If anything, I should be worried about keeping up with you, gorgeous."

After some moments, you heard the click of heels approaching, and before you could even react, the door swung open.

It was none other than his ex.

Her eyes widened in pure shock, and her makeup kit slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

But Satoru?

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he smirked, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for his discarded jacket and draped it over you, shielding your exposed skin.

Then, as if this was the most casual thing in the world, he turned to her and tilted his head.

“Oh?” His grin was lazy, smug. “Didn’t see you there.”

His grip on your hips tightened possessively before he let out a soft chuckle, his tone downright mocking.

“Hope we didn’t… interrupt anything.”

His ex ran away crying, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she bolted out of the bathroom.

Satoru barely spared her a glance.

His attention was still on you.

His smirk softened into something more genuine as he gazed down at you, his hands gently running over your waist, your thighs, as if grounding you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your flushed cheek. “So fucking pretty… too pretty to be worrying about anyone else.”

You tried to say something, but your head was spinning, your body still trembling from everything. Words felt impossible.

Satoru chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, his expression dripping with admiration.

“Lightheaded already? Cute,” he teased, but his tone was filled with nothing but warmth.

He kissed you again slow and deep before murmuring against your lips,

“Let’s get you cleaned up, gorgeous.”

Satoru cleaned you up with a level of care that made your heart ache his usual teasing replaced with soft kisses, gentle touches, and whispered praises.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he murmured, smoothing down your dress and fixing your hair, his blue eyes scanning your face like he was checking for any signs of discomfort.

You nodded, still too dazed to form actual words, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“God, I wrecked you, huh?” His smirk returned, but his touch remained soft, almost reverent.

Before you could even try to respond, he scooped you up into his arms effortlessly.

“Satoru—”

“Nope, not letting you walk,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he carried you out of the bathroom. “You look too fucked out to stand properly. And besides…” He grinned down at you. “Gotta make sure everyone sees you wrapped up in my jacket, looking all cute and satisfied.”

Your face burned as he carried you back into the party like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Every single head turned.

Gasps. Stares. Murmurs.

Your coworkers exchanged looks, some shocked, some amused.

And his ex?

Nowhere to be seen.

Satoru, on the other hand, was absolutely thriving. He wore his usual cocky grin, his chest puffed out like he had just won the grandest prize of all.

Which, in his eyes, he had.

Because you were his.

And he had just made damn sure everyone knew it.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his jacket and the even warmer way he looked at you

As he carried you through the party, past all the stares and whispers, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring against your skin

“You know… in this whole damn world, you’re the only one who can bring me to my knees.”

His voice was soft, but his words carried weight, filled with something undeniable.

Because Satoru Gojo the strongest, the untouchable, the man who stood above all

Would willingly fall for you, every single time.

All your insecurities melted away.

[thoughtfulfiction]

While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

[littlemissmelodie]

⭑Under the Stars⭑

!Onyx Storm spoilers!

Pairing: Ridoc Gamlyn x fem!Reader

Summary: Tagging along with Quest Squad to the Isle kingdom Y/n is nervous to confront her feelings for Ridoc. Realizing that she has forgotten her sleeping bag she is left with few options. Sharing with her squadmate proves to be the only available one. An outcome neither of them ends up having too much complaint about. Only problem, they are surrounded by the rest of their pers.

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, p in v, smut with feelings, swearing, fem!reader, unprotected sex, public sex, fingerring, edging, (very) light exhibitionism and voyeurism, dry humping, praise kink.

Note: This is my first ever smut published and English is not my first language. So please be kind. Other than that, enjoy.

Word count: 3k

After bidding good night to the rest of Quest Squad, as Ridoc insists on calling it, I make my way to my luggage. At the edge of the clearing Èisdeachd is standing, along with the limited amount of items I brought with me. Finding my sleeping bag in the tiny pine of luggage should be no match.

Annoyance takes over when I can't seem to find it. I search through my memory from when I was packing. Quickly I come to realize that I must have forgotten to bring it with me. Fuck.

I weigh my options as I continue to search just in case. 1. I accept defeat and curl up close to Èisde, hoping her warmth will be enough.

2. I ask Ridoc if we can share, taking the opportunity to finally make a move after seven months of denying my attraction.

3. I ask Aaric, who I have slept with before, and will probably be fine with sharing a sleeping bag.

Yep, three it is. No way I make a move on Ridoc this early in our travels. “Coward.” Èisde says amused, making me huff in annoyance.

“Thanks for the input. But I would prefer for the next two weeks to not be awkward.” The thought of having to spend the rest of our island visits in strained silence makes me mentally gag.

“I'd advice you look behind you.” Spinning around at her statement I expect to see caos causing me to be confused at first. Then I spot Aaric beside Molvic already fast asleep. Damn it. Option one it is.

“No rider of mine cowers from confrontation.” Èisde growls, then takes off into the sky.

“You find way too much amusement in this!” I yell through our mindlink, but her shields are already up. Stupid dragon.

“I heard that!”

Despite the many months spent with flirty banter and suggestive comments none of us had ever acted on it. I was therefore terrified of the thought that he might not think of it as anything more than just that.

With a deep breath I turn towards Ridoc who's only a few meters away. “Uhh Ridoc, it seems like I have forgotten my sleeping bag. Would you mind sharing?” I force my voice to be confident. It would be horrible if he knew how nervous this interaction makes me.

With a big cocky grin Ridoc locks his eyes with mine. “Of course not, princess. I'd share a bed with you any day.” Not only is his tone flirty, but he ends his statement with a wink.

The audacity of this man. Suppressing my blush I playfully roll my eyes at him. “Ladies first.” He points to the small sleeping bag. This is gonna be a tight squeeze.

“I'm not sure this is made to fit two people.” I mutter as I crawl halfway into it, leaving everything but my boots on. Slowly Ridoc begins to climb in behind me, using my shoulder to keep his balance. My breath hitches when I feel his warm breath fanning against my neck.

“Then we better move as one.” His voice is low and suggestive when he responds to my complaint. The hand that has now moved to rest at my waist not helping the growing feeling of need.

I shuffle downwards to put myself in a lying position, but freeze as I hear a sharp intake of air from Ridoc, followed by a tightened grip close to my boob. The thought of him being equally as affected by the situation as myself makes my confidence grow. “Sorry.” I whisper, not really meaning it.

He clears his throat before answering. “No worries.” Then he slides down beside me, placing one arm around my midsection. How am I gonna sleep with his mouth this close to my neck?

The sleeping back is tight, leaving almost no place for movement. Its thin fabric provides barely any cushioning from the ground, making me wiggle in place to find a more comfortable position.

A groan is heard from behind me. “I would suggest you stop moving before I do something we both might regret.” His husky voice makes me shiver in anticipation. The suggestion in his warning makes me scream inside. I'm not sure I can control my own arousal for much longer.

I turn my head, causing my jawline to brush against his lips. The bulge I feel against my ass urges me on in my new found conquest. Wiggling a bit more I answer him in an innocent tone. “Don't you want me to be comfortable?”

“I mean it, princess. Don't start the game if you're not ready to finish it.” He almost moans, his lips and teeth gracing my skin. His hand that previously rested around me has now moved lower, fumbling with the edge of my shirt. Butterflies swarm in my stomach. Man does he know what he is doing.

“Ridoc…” I whine, growing more and more desperate for his touch. I angle my head in hope that he gets the hint. One of my hands reaching behind me to trace over his hip.

“Fuck it.” He mutters, immediately attacking my neck with his mouth. A stifled moan leaves me in response, spurring him on even more. A trail of marks would surely be visible tomorrow if he continues at this rate.

Meanwhile his hand has taken his way fully under my shirt, brushing the underside of my boob. “Is this okay?” I nod eagerly, not trusting my voice to speak for me.

“Use your words, love.” He halts everything he was doing while waiting for my answer.

“It's okay.” The sudden feeling of his hand kneading my boob in combination with his lips on my neck has sounds of pleasure leaving me. No man has business making me this wet with just some light touches and kisses.

“Shh, princess. As much as I love hearing how I’m affecting you, I'm also selfish and want to keep them to myself.” I stiffen when I remember the presence of the rest of Quest Squad. But the thought is quickly forgotten when Ridoc finds a sweet spot behind my ear. “Good girl.” he praises when I bite back the moan that threatens to escape me.

The more he abuses by breasts and neck in all kinds of ways, the more impatient I become for his fingers to grace my heat. Deciding to take things into my own hands, I begin to grind against his large erection.

“Y/n-” he growls into my ear. With surprising ease, despite the tight sack around us, he turns me around to face him. Before I can react his lips smash against mine, moving in a passionate and needy kiss.

With one hand in my hair he holds my head steady as he takes my breath away with greedy kisses. The other hand moves down to my core, leaving small, teasing touches through the fabric.

I'm practically panting against his lips, bringing up my own arms to tug at his curls. The gesture earns me a small moan, making me grin in response. Oh, how I love the sounds he makes for me.

My eyes are heavy with pleasure, but it doesn't stop me from observing Ridoc's. Pupils dilated and a few shades darker than normal. The hunger with which he’s watching me seems like something taken out of a wet dream. Never in my 22 years of living have I witnessed such arousal in somebody's eyes.

“Please Ridoc-” Desperation for release crawls up on me. The coil in my core pulled tight. At this stage I’m not really sure how I keep my whimpers and moans to myself, or if I do it at all.

“Please what, princess?” The teasing tone he holds only fuels my fire, his fingers working even more efficiently than before.

“So close Ridoc… please.” A change in speed makes me almost come on the spot. This causes a loud moan to leave me, but the thoughts of potential onlookers are long gone.

“That doesn't answer my question, love. Tell me what you want.” Gone is the light hearted, flirty gentleman I’m used to. But God do I love this new side of him. Frustration of being denied my orgasm gnaws on me, but I can't deny that I find it very sexy.

“I want to come, Ridoc. I beg you… Please.” My words come out straind and mostly in whines. The sensation of his finger rubbing me through my trousers making me see stars.

“So pretty when you beg for me. All needy and desperate for my touch.” he whispers in my ear. “Now come for me, my love.” His praise and command leaves no room for argument as I come on the spot. The heavenly sensation of orgasm taking over all my senses.

Ridoc kisses me through it to muffle the moans that escape my swollen lips. His hand is however quick to continue its adventure. Lowering my pants enough to get his hand inside with ease. As I slowly come back to earth from my ecstasy induced state I realize what he is doing.

“So beautiful when you come for me, princess.” He praises in an arousal-laced voice, watching me with hungry eyes. “Not so good at keeping quiet though. What should we do about that, huh?” Though the question seems rhetorical at first, his challenging gaze tells me otherwise.

“I don’t kn-” I'm cut off by the sharp sensation of over stimulation as Ridoc rubs my clit, now without fabric in between. A series of gasps leaving me to prove its effect. He holds me tight as I wiggle to get away from it. Not that I'm really able to anyway, seeing as the sleeping bag seems even smaller than before.

“Too bad…” His other hand trails delicate touches over my body. “I guess I will have to decide myself then.” He slows the pace on my clit, inserting one finger inside me. The new placement does nothing but keep me needy. My whine is returned by a grin of satisfaction, proving that he got the desired outcome.

Releasing one of my hands from the tangle that is his hair, I move it down to his dick. In hope that the teasing I do to him provides me more pleasure, I begin to trace it through his pants. The gesture earns me a quickened breath, but he keeps the torturous pace with his hand. I then move on to unzipping his pants, pawing his erection through his boxers instead.

He growls, grabbing hold of my hand and holds it behind my back. “Only I do the touching tonight, love.” I whine and move to use the hand still in his hair to take over my conquest, but he is quick to grab it, giving me a warning glare.

Withdrawing his hand from my core he releases his cock from his pants, pushing down my own just enough to get better access. “Now be a good girl and keep quiet.”

With that he slams into me, giving me no time to adjust. I bite back the loud moan that threatens to escape me, not wanting to test the waters further. Every thrust takes my breath away, leaving me panting in no time. “Oh God-” The moan slips out of me involuntarily

“I'm honored… Mmm fuuuck, princess. You feel so good, squeezing my cock with your pussy…” Interrupted by my own devlish attempt at distraction by contracting my pelvic floor he starts over. “...I’m honored that you think of me that highly. But Ridoc works just fine, love.” Though my eyes are closed I can hear the amusement in his voice. It's strained and much deeper than normal, making the butterfly in my stomach flutter.

Forcering my eyes open to look at Ridoc I see that he himself is struggling to keep quiet. His eyes meet mine, the heat in them mirroring my own. I gasp as his thumb finds my clit, making me strain against his hold on my wrists. A glare is directed at me, and he tightens the hold. Maybe enough to leave a mark.

He seems to realize this too. His brown eyes flare with possessiveness and a oh so sexy smirk spreads across his face. My reaction does nothing but boost his cockiness. Our staring contest is interrupted by a loud hiss from the both of us. The length of his cock stretching me further than ever before.

“Fuck… I could spend forever watching you take my cock like this.” His breath is hot against my ear. I hum in response letting a small moan leave me when he increases the pace. Every thrust hits the right spot deep within me. I want to scream out in pleasure, but hold it back. My lips now swollen and aching from all the times I've taken them between my teeth to stop a moan.

“Mine” Teeth sink in behind my ear. Oh God. “Who do you belong to, princess?” His voice is demanding, and I live for every second of it.

“You, Ridoc. I belong to you.” Though my breath is ragged, my statement comes out with certainty. His lips connect with mine, hard and desperate. Within the next moment he releases his semen inside of me, our kiss muffling the heavenly sound that leaves him.

The feeling of his cock pulsing inside me has me seeing stars, a reoccurring thing this night it seems. His forehead rests against mine as he comes down from his high. “I hope you didn't expect me to let you come after disobeying me, princess.” He taunts in a hoarse voice, making me whimper.

“Aww, did someone think there wouldn’t be consequences to their actions? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue in feigned pity.

“Here’s what's gonna happen. I will make you come alright. Bring you to the edge over and over again. And you are gonna tell me, every time, when you are close. I'm gonna make you beg for that release like your life depends on it. Only then will I allow you to give into it.” Fuck. I’m down bad. Who would have thought that sweet little Ridoc was such a freak.

He brings his hand down, beginning to run small circles around my bundle of nerves. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” I nod in response, dismissing his concern. He grabs my jaw, making me look him in the eye. “I'm serious Y/n. You have to tell me.” His tone is gentle, yet demanding.

“I promise I will tell you.” My statement is followed with an impossibly long while of edging. Ridoc has me making sounds I didn't know I was capable of, all while muffling them to not earn the attention of others.

I quickly lose count of the times Ridoc has me close to the edge. All I know is that as much as I hate the endless teasing, I love it just as much. The world around us has faded away since long, all that matters is Ridoc’s filthy words and fingers.

“I don't think you understand how beautiful you are right now. All hot and bothered, begging me to please you.” The praise is never ending with this man, something that has made me realize that I do in fact have a praise kink.

“Ridoc, plea-” I’m cut off by the familiar sensation of nearing the edge once again. He chuckles and temporarily removes his touch before starting over at a painfully slow pace.

“You're doing so well, love. Just a few more times, can you do that for me?” He leaves a trail of hot kisses down my neck as he brings me to the edge three more times. Always stopping when I beg to be given my release.

“Please, Ridoc- So fucking close Ridoc, please… I promise I've learnt my lesson… Let me come for you Ridoc… I promise I will be a good girl in the future, please.” The dance around the edge has me squirming, begging on a whole new level. Never in my life have I been so desperate for something, let alone someone.

“As you wish, princess.” He quickens the pace, having me strain against him out of over stimulation. It doesn't take long before I crash, screaming his name into his palm. The orgasm is unlike anything I've ever experienced, causing me to temporarily lose all senses but touch. My body spasm in Ridoc's hold as I continue to let out moans and whimpers that might cause people to wake up.

It takes time for my ecstasy mind to come back to reality. Breath heavy as I open my eyes to meet with Ridoc's. Lust and adoration is what watches me. Accompanied by a smile that screams self satisfaction, the man in front of me is all I could ever dream of. “Thank you.” My voice is small, worn out from the song of pleasure. I lean into his embrace, feeling myself already doze off from exhaustion.

“No need to thank me, love. Now go to sleep, you deserve it.” He leaves a kiss on my forehead, making me smile and nustle closer into his chest, breathing in his scent.

Before any of us have the chance to fall asleep, a grunt comes from beside us. I quickly turn my head, only to be met by Aaric who is now much closer than before. Standing only a few meters away he meets my eye. “Fucking finally.” He mutters, not breaking eye contact. His eyes are dark and lustfull, telling me he’s most likely very affected by mine and Ridoc's ever lasting endeavours. A quick look down and the bulge in his pants confirm my suspicion.

Nor me or Ridoc has the time to utter a word before Aaric turns around and walks away. I turn to Ridoc who meets my gaze. We both stifle a laugh, amused by the whole ordeal. The thought of him watching for God knows how long bothers me surprisingly little. Instead I feel a new found sort of excitement.

“Good night, Ridoc.” I turn around, pressing my back against him and close my eyes.

“Good night, princess.”

[hy6erion]

I am back and with another artist reader x JayVik ask!! The ask abt reader drawing em naked rly sparked some inspiration >:))

I was wondering if you could do artist reader drawing JayVik getting each other off? (Doing the do, the devils tango, uh,, sex)

I just think it’d be delicious to make them stop mid fuck cause you gotta draw em in a specific pose

Also, if u could make reader maybe more dominant that would be very appreciated!! I feel like Jayce and Viktor could go either way here (both submissive, one dom one sub, maybe both switches(??)) but I just prefer dominant reader inserts :))

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲- 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠/ 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥, 𝐦/𝐦/𝐟 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 (𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 (𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞)

It was obscene, the way they fit together like this.

Jayce, broad and ruined, sprawled against the pillows, body straining under the weight of Viktor above him. And Viktor-delicate but devastating, perched in Jayce's lap, thighs spread wide, lips kiss-bitten and panting.

Y/n had been content to watch. Until inspiration struck.

She stretched, lazily, dragging a hand down the sheet covering her legs before finally speaking.

"Hold that pose."

It took them a second to register.

Viktor went still first. His chest still heaving, skin flushed, but his brows furrowed, mouth parting slightly. Jayce, though-he was slower to catch up, still rutting helplessly into Viktor's body, hands tightening on his thighs, entirely too lost in it to—

"Jayce," Y/n said smoothly, her voice warm but unyielding. "I said hold it."

His body locked up instantly.

Viktor let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. "Oh, you cannot be serious."

Jayce groaned. "She's serious."

Y/n smiled, reaching for her sketchbook.

"Mm. Very serious."

Jayce let his head fall back against the pillows, looking personally betrayed.

"You're actually insane."

"And you're actually gorgeous like this," she countered, flipping to a blank page.

"So stop whining and let me work."

Jayce whimpered.

Viktor, the absolute traitor, smirked as he settled against Jayce's lap, rolling his hips-barely, just enough to tease, enough to make Jayce's fingers twitch against his skin. "I think she enjoys this."

Y/n smirked right back. "You're both enjoying this."

Neither of them denied it.

Her charcoal moved in long, confident strokes, capturing everything-Jayce's tension, his arms trembling where they held Viktor, the way his fingers flexed against pale thighs like he was dying to move but wouldn't dare without permission. The way Viktor's back arched slightly, hands braced against Jayce's chest, lips parted like he was waiting to be kissed.

They were a masterpiece.

Jayce shifted, barely a twitch, but enough to catch her attention. His breath hitched. "Y/n, please-"

She paused.Jayce swallowed hard.

Y/n tilted her head. "Please what?"

Jayce's throat bobbed. "Please let me move-"

She hummed, tapping the edge of the charcoal against her chin as she considered. "Hmm. I don't know. You look good like this. Desperate. Obedient."

Jayce whined, head falling back against the pillows.

Viktor chuckled, dragging his fingers over Jayce's chest in slow, taunting motions. "I think she likes us suffering."

Y/n grinned. "You say that like it's a secret."

Jayce groaned, thrashing slightly, but Viktor held him down, smirking.

"You love this," Viktor murmured, raking his nails down Jayce's stomach, watching him tremble.

Jayce's fingers twitched, his restraint crumbling. "You are both evil-"

"Oh, poor you" Y/n murmured, setting her sketchbook aside. She slid off the pillows, crawling over him, watching the way his breathing stuttered as she hovered just above him. "You love it."

Jayce's lips parted.

Viktor smirked above him. "Very."

Jayce barely had time to breathe before Y/n kissed him hard, sinking her fingers into his hair, dragging her nails against his scalp until he whimpered into her mouth. His hands twitched, but he didn't move, still obeying her earlier command.

Y/n grinned against his lips, pleased.

Then she pulled back and tilted Viktor's face to hers instead, kissing him slow, deliberate, until his hands shook against Jayce's chest. Until his hips jerked forward, unthinking, chasing more.

By the time she pulled away, they were wrecked.

And they were hers.

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

I'm not anywhere really near or into Kingdom Come: Deliverance, but since the second game released recently, I've seen a lot of new attention on my social medias, particularly around Henry and Hans' relationship

And I, very obviously, love queer characters and relationships, and even moreso the canon ones, so I watched the IGN video explaining how one might romance Hans in the second game

Man. I was blown away.

By now I've played a handful of rpg's and romanced a handful of npc's, but not ONCE has the dialogue and action of a confession scene ever felt quite so real and as beautifully acted

I have almost zero other context about the games or characters, yet I haven't stopped thinking about that romance scene in days

That you build up the affection and genuine care for Hans through dialogue choices feels completely non-forced, and you can tell that Hans enjoys your presence and respects you immensely. Henry gently encouraging and helping Hans when he's uncomfortable, always concerned about his wellbeing. There's such a solid foundation of mutual trust that even I, as an outside viewer, can tell that both men truly would put their lives in the others hands

And then the confession scene itself? Henry coming to say goodbye, and because of the work that has been put in to convey Henry's feelings of care and devotion for Hans, it's Hans himself who starts the conversation. He tells a story that he 'doesn't have his own words for', displaying that he's uncertain about how this might go, but knowing that it needs to be said before Henry leaves. He's both deflecting and projecting, using this story as a way to cushion the segue into his own feelings, or the blow of rejection should it come. And as Hans imagines something terrible happening to Henry, he immediately gets emotional, voice shaking, knowing he'd be unable to help

There's a small moment as Henry reassures that he'll be alright, when he places a hand on top of Hans' and this small, delightfully hopeful smile appears on Hans' face. I take this to be the moment where Hans believes that Henry has understood his story, and his way of confessing his feelings, and that Henry feels the same way about him. Then Henry stands, moving to leave and Hans' smile drops. Perhaps Henry's confidence falters here, and before he can reciprocate his true feelings and kiss him, Hans is running on adrenaline and courage and pulls Henry into the kiss instead, before he can second-guess himself

It's awkward, uncertain. Hans has this almost crushing grip on Henry like he's barely sure what he's just done, just that he couldn't let him walk away without doing something . And when Henry turns his head and steps back, noises of shock and breathlessness, Hans jumps back like he's been burned and spurned. He's stammering and stuttering out an apology, quiet and upset, unlike his usual self

Hans' body language as he turns away, making himself smaller, making more space between them than is necessary, it displays how he thinks his actions have just been perceived - that Henry doesn't feel the same way, he just ruined a perfectly good friendship, he's made himself look weak. He rubs at his mouth like he wishes he could remove the feel of Henry's lips against his own, tries apologising again, gasping for air, screws up his face in anxiety or anger for his recklessness......

Then Henry makes his own decision and speeds back over to him, pulling him into an even more crushing embrace and kiss, before they make their way over to the bed

The acting direction here in this scene is just so delectablely real . It looks and feels like I'm a fly on the wall of a real life confession, where both men are less than certain about their futures, and even less certain about how their relationship is perceived in the others eyes. Hans is visibly scared of rejection when Henry turns his back, Henry is visibly coming to terms with what he wants in this moment

The reactions are the most natural thing in the world, especially in a game that strives for realism. There was clearly a great deal of care that went into writing and directing this relationship, and with how naturally it progressed to this climax

And I think that's where the divide is for me, when I think about the romance options in BG3 or other rpgs, because there is something more flowery and shiny about those romances that I've experienced. Like they're too perfect, too polished and rehearsed, no room to have any fuck ups or moments of imperfection. But it's the awkwardness and show of non-positive emotions and reactions, rather than immediate lust and experience, that really pins the Henry and Hans scene above the rest

There's probably more I could say, and I'm sure there's more that others who know these characters and the games could say, but I just wanted to get my thoughts into some words and hope that it strikes true with someone else

I don't think I've ever seen a romance scene in a video game, that has felt so genuine as this. A thousand kudos to the actors for Hans and Henry, and the writers and directors for this marvellously curated scene ❤️

[everdeensworld]

VDay prompts: 9&10, hotch x fem!reader (could be gen neutral, bau!reader too!) Aaron saying the dialogue

prompts: #9 “just keep your eyes closed.” “you’re not leading me to my death are you?” #10 “i hate valentine’s day, it’s pointless.” “i’m going to change your mind, go out with me.”

authors note: haha! don’t worry about it, thank you for the request!

prompt list

“i hate valentine’s day, its pointless.” being a hopeless romantic, hearing aaron say that in such confidence had urged you to change his mind.

he and been a pessimist as long as you knew him, but you knew he enjoyed holidays like christmas and halloween, the bau had always made them into a big deal, and he did have a young son, so you knew those days were very magical for kids, for his son, so therefore they were magical to him too.

but hating valentine’s day! you just could not allow it, and this was the perfect opportunity you couldn’t pass up, having feelings for your boss was taboo, but after gaining a friendship with him, it felt a little less taboo.

“i’m going to change your mind, go out with me.” you said to him in full confidence, which had caught his usually stoic self off guard, he lets out a little laugh, assuming you were just kidding.

“i’m not joking, go out with me.” you say, then clearing your throat. “if you want to that is.”

he stared down at your face trying to decipher wether or not you were really being serious, slowly his face softened. “okay, alright then, i will go out with you, you better dazzle me, i do hate valentine’s day after all.”

you smile, gleefully. “of-course, nothing less for you.”

that’s how you got to where you are now, his eyes covered with a blindfold, and you were covering that with your hand, for good measure, leading him to where you’d be having your date.

after he had agreed you had spend most your free time planning for it, you’d been hopelessly in love with aaron since you’d met him, and taking him out on valentines day could be the chance to finally have him love you back.

“do i have to have this blindfold on?” he asked with a grumble, almost stumbling over a tree stump, trying to reach up to take it off but you swat his hand away.

“just keep your eyes closed!” you tell him, in a firm voice, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.

“you’re not leading me to my death are you?” he asked, feeling you lead him down a path that was pretty narrow, he hears you let out a soft huff.

“don’t you have any faith in me aaron, you’re too— work mode.”

before he could make a witty response back, you let go of his hand and swivel around to him, “okay, we’re here, you can take off your blindfold now!”

he’s quick to take it off, deep down he knows he’d been looking forward to this, even if he claimed he hated valentine’s day, he couldn’t, not when you loved it.

his eyes searched the area, it was a little patch of grass, a few candles and a picnic blanket decked out with treats, snacks and meal foods, his eyes widened.

maybe it was high-school of him to feel like he had butterflies, it had been a while since he’d experienced anything remotely romantic.

ever since he’d lost his ex-wife, he steered clear of love, it scared him, he didn’t think that he deserved it, and he didn’t think anyone would want a man with all his baggage, not only that he had a young son.

he didn’t want to put anyone in danger, and he didn’t want to put you in danger.

the role-reversal was quite a strange feeling on his part, he’d never had someone lead him to a picnic with, blindfold on, or ask him to be their valentine so sweetly, but it was quite freeing, it made him feel liked, worthy.

not that he didn’t mind being the one to make romantic gestures, in fact, if you hadn’t been the one to ask him out, he had shamefully, got a corny valenties card with a bee on it that said ‘bee my valentine.’

after all, before you had boldly asked him out on a date, he pretended he didn’t care for valentine’s day.

he was glad he didn’t have that to show, seeing the effort you had put in for him, he would’ve looked like the world greatest asshole. “this is… wonderful.” he smiled.

“is it?” you look up at him. “i know it’s a bit.. uh, girly, i hope you don’t mind, i just thought that even men deserve to be doted on every once in a while.”

the hesitant look on your face made his heart swell, “it’s perfect, i think valentine’s day is creeping up on me..” he smirked, making you grin with excitement.

“well! now we’ve got to make you love it, i’ve got champagne, and all your favourite foods.” you say, leading him to the picnic blanket, he followed willingly.

what you didn’t know was, you’d already had him hooked on valentine’s day, he loved it, though watching you try and convince him a little bit longer wouldnt hurt.

[whimsicalpolitical]

perchance matty or ross catches you watching edits of them and deals with you accordingly… perchance

18+ mdni, oral (m receiving)

matty has been holed up in his office for the past couple of hours, leaving you to entertain yourself in the cozy mess of his flat. so naturally, you’re curled up on his couch, scrolling through tiktok, mindlessly flipping past videos—until one stops you dead in your tracks.

an edit of him.

it’s one of those ridiculously well-made ones, the kind with slow-motion clips, flashing lights, and a song that makes everything feel ten times more intense than it already is. on stage, cigarette between his fingers, curls messy and damp with sweat, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

your mouth actually waters.

you let the video loop a couple of times before tapping on the username. whoever runs the account clearly has a talent—and a bit of an obsession—because their entire page is a shrine to him. edits from every era, every tour, interviews you haven’t even seen before.

you get lost in it, thumb tapping on video after video, admiring him like some fan who doesn’t get to wake up next to him in the morning. because objectively, he’s gorgeous. but it’s more than that—he’s yours. and that fact alone makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

so absorbed in your scrolling, you don’t hear him walk in.

"oh, for fuck’s sake," his voice comes from behind you, making you flinch violently.

"jesus christ, matty!" you gasp, clutching your chest.

he’s standing over the back of the couch, arms crossed, a slow, amused smirk creeping across his lips. "are you actually sitting here watching thirst edits of me?"

heat flares across your face. "i mean…" you scramble for an excuse, but really, what’s the point? so instead, you shrug, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you can muster. "what can i say? you’re fucking hot."

his smirk deepens, eyes flicking between you and the phone still open in your hand. then he shakes his head, exhaling a quiet laugh. "unbelievable."

"not my fault people make good edits."

"not your fault you’re drooling over them either, then?"

"never said that."

he rolls his eyes, but there’s a flicker of something behind them—something smug, something pleased. and then he leans down, voice dropping low and warm.

"well," he murmurs, "i’m done with work now, if you’d rather admire the real thing."

your stomach flips.

matty grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, before reaching for your phone and locking it with a tap. then he tosses it onto the couch beside you.

matty walks around the couch slowly, dragging it out, eyes locked onto yours with that signature mix of amusement and something darker. he stops in front of you, arms still crossed, head tilting slightly.

"so," he muses, dragging the word out. "which bit turns you on most then?”

you blink up at him, playing dumb. "which bit of what?"

he lets out a soft scoff, his tongue running over his teeth. "don’t start."

you bite back a smile, pressing your lips together. matty doesn’t move, just watches you, waiting, a smug little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. you can tell he’s enjoying this way too much already.

you exhale through your nose, shifting slightly. "consumption," you admit, finally.

matty raises an eyebrow, pretending to think. "consumption," he echoes, letting the word roll off his tongue. then his smirk widens, and he nods in understanding. "right. me touching my dick, then? should’ve actually thought about that.”

you shrug, feigning nonchalance, but your lip catches between your teeth, giving you away.

he laughs, a real one, his head tilting back for a second before he looks at you again, eyes gleaming. "you’re so fucking easy," he teases, shaking his head.

"yeah, well." you push yourself up off the couch slowly, stepping toward him, closing the space between you until there’s barely an inch left. he doesn’t move back, doesn’t look away—just watches, amused, waiting to see what you’ll do.

you press your hands against his chest, fingers splaying out over the fabric of his shirt, and give him a firm push.

he lets himself fall back onto the couch, spreading his legs lazily, looking up at you with an expression so cocky it makes your stomach twist.

you lean down slightly, your voice dropping as you murmur, "what can i say? i love your dick."

matty exhales through his nose, that damn smirk only growing as he runs a slow hand through his curls.

“show me how much, c’mon. get down.”

without a word, you sink down, knees hitting the warm carpet.

"that’s right," matty hums when your hands find his belt buckle.

you undo his belt and pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the floor with a clink. then your fingers undo his jeans, almost tearing them apart by the zipper with your eagerness to see him.

“seen a few videos of me and you’re already this eager,” he chuckles, “you’re mad.”

“only for you.”

as you pull the denim over his hips, you feel his hand softly rest on the crown of your head. a quick glance up tells you he's watching every single thing you're doing, lapping it up like it's the last thing he'll ever see.

“is that right?” he asks rhetorically. he knows everything you do is for him.

you place a gentle kiss to his thigh and pull the waistband of his underwear down, and his cock springs free.

you hum, “m’ yours.”

your hands wrap around him.. you pump him a few times in your hands and he tips his head back, mouth agape.

“exactly. you’re mine, this filthy mouth is mine.”

you lower your head to lick his tip until you finally take him in your mouth. “so pretty,” you whisper.

matty groans audibly, “just like that, darling, fuck.”

you push down as far as your throat will allow before releasing him with a pop, saliva mixed with matty all over your lips.

"that’s it, love," he's mumbling, eyes still screwed shut, hand still knotting in your hair, “know you can get a bit more of me into your mouth.”

you drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, closing your eyes.

when you take him in down to your throat again, he begins moving his hips; bucking up into your mouth. you steady yourself, hands on his upper thighs, and let him, trying not to lower your hand to your cunt to relieve the ache quickly growing there.

“jesus christ, yeah, like that. s’perfect.”

the sounds he's making are enough to make you cum by themselves. he’s panting, moaning, breathing your name, groaning whenever your cheeks hollow.

"you’re a fucking dream, darling. look at you, so fucking sexy.” you pull him back into your mouth. he tastes like sweat and salt and matty.

when he bumps the back of your throat and you gag a little, you notice matty’s head snap down to check on you. his grip on your hair loosens, and you softly gaze back at him, eyes blown with lust, to let him know you're okay.

“easy there,” he says, “don’t be a greedy girl.”

you drag your lips off of his head, a string of saliva still linking your mouth to his reddened tip. you’re panting now, fully turned on by him.

“you’re so fucking hot,” you say trying not to moan, “want you all the time.”

your palms wrap around his length again, pumping and twisting slowly while your tongue flicks over his head.

matty’s breathing heavily and grinning as he watches you, “i know,” he cooes, “i’ve got you. you have me whenever you want to.”

when you let go of him and dip your head down to take him completely, he lets out a deep groan.

“oh fuck,” he moans out, “keep doin’ that.”

his hand falls to the back of your head and he applies a little pressure, fucking into you again.

“want me in your mouth?” he asks.

you nod repeatedly and beg him with your eyes.

“christ, yeah alright. i- jesus.”

when you begin to feel him jerk, you lean back, hands helping him to his high as you hold his head to your bottom lip.

matty’s hand never leaves your head as he twitches, filling your throat and coating your tongue in warm, salty cum. he’s calling your name, breath heaving and hips shuddering.

“fuck, darling,” he breathes out.

he slides out of your mouth. when his orgasm subsides, he watches you lick your lips and swallow his load, before tucking his softening dick under his boxers and pulling his jeans back up.

“you’re mental.”

you watch in a distant haze of ecstasy as matty does his pants up himself and takes your chin in his hand.

breathing heavy, you look up at him, eyes hooded.

"come here," he whispers, and your tired legs hoist you back up to height.

his hand grips your hips and pulls you down into his lap. he doesn’t waste a second to taste himself on your tongue.

you let your eyes fall closed as you breathe each other in.

"so good to me," matty mumbles against your forehead, and you lazily smile, “should thank those girls on tiktok.”

you laugh and shove his shoulder back, “you’re ridiculous.”

“oh?” he grins and wraps your legs around his middle as he stands up, “so you don’t want a reward right now?”

you trail kisses from his cheek down his neck as he carries you to his bedroom, “didn’t say that.”

“s’what i thought.”

[restlessmaknae]

words that started you & me // hanbin

After a particularly nasty injury and a year abroad, you go back to dancing, but it turns out that it’s still too difficult for you to trust someone else, even if it’s Sung Hanbin out of all people.

➳ Characters: dancer!Hanbin x dancer!female reader/you

➳ Genre: dance partners au, hurt/comfort

➳ Words: 2.5k

➳ Warning: mentions of injuries (sprained ankle, broken ribs, back injuries, blue and purple marks), period pain, hint at parental pressure, reader having flashbacks to her injury, reader's previous dance partner was a jerk

➳ A/N: This story was requested in my 1200 followers request event by the lovely @kukkurookkoo. Hope you enjoy it with all its angst! 💖

You still have time to request in the event, so check out the masterpost if you're interested *-*

You had always thought that injuries showed how excellent of a dancer you were. You had worn those blue and purple patches dotting your skin as a badge of honor, a testament to your hard work, to the many hours you put into practise, to the many falls you had taken and even more you were about to take.

You had always thought that you were invincible, an unbreakable diamond placed inside a metallic glass, strong and durable through and through. You had kept dancing even through muscle pain, period cramps and being sick. You had told yourself that this was the only way you could make it and cement yourself as the perfect dancer, the perfect performer and the perfect daughter.

Until your sickly twisted illusion had shattered into tiny pieces, and you had fallen into the darkness alongside your perfectly curated confidence and long-withstanding trust for dancing.

You were cautious when you met Sung Hanbin, but you were cautious with everything since your injury. Even though you wanted to start again on your own, not with a partner, it didn’t end well, so to hold you back from destroying yourself even further, your old dance teacher suggested joining one of her peers’ academy. You weren’t about to go back to the same one you used to attend, not when you could run into your previous dance partner any time, and see how fine he was when he had destroyed the one thing that you had worked so hard for.

So there you were, meeting your new dance partner for the first time who was said to be an ace, a boy who could defy gravity and push the boundaries of dancing with his excellent sense of rhythm and body control. One would think that he didn’t need a partner to shine if he was so good at what he was doing, but the teacher who paired you two up said that it was because he wanted to challenge himself given that he hadn’t danced with anyone before.

“Hello!” Sung Hanbin entered the practise room with ease and with the confidence of a boy who had been attending that exact same academy ever since he had started dancing. Compared to him, you must have looked out of place, masked anxiety laced with fear under that neutral expression of yours, but you held your chin up high nevertheless.

“Hello!” You greeted him back, eyeing him for a good five seconds when he walked up to you to properly introduce himself. Despite his reputation, there was nothing off-standish about him; he had worn-out sweatpants, sports shoes that had probably seen better days and an oversized white tee on, but it was the way he moved that told tales about the dancer he was. Elegant, fully in control of his every move yet relaxed limbs that were more defined than others his age.

“My name is Sung Hanbin. Nice to meet you. Please, take care of me,” he said it so eloquently, so perfectly as if he had been practising these lines over and over again, and bowed at a perfect angle out of respect. You wondered what the teacher had told him about you to act this way or whether he was generally this polite.

Either way, you shook off your questions and introduced yourself, reciprocating his gesture. He wore this genuine, relaxed smile that made you feel even more out of place than before. There was something about the way he looked so composed, so put together when you constantly felt like crumbling at the passing of a gentle breeze ever since you had come back from abroad.

He either didn’t notice your stoic expression or he thought that you were merely shy around strangers because he started talking about how excited he was to dance with you, and what kind of styles he had done before. Then, he asked about your side, and you were glad that the dance teacher came in at that moment because you weren’t sure that you could chat so easily about dancing. He might have been your new dance partner, but you weren’t ready to trust him.

The class went better than expected. The teacher probably took it into consideration that you had an on-and-off history with dancing in the past year because you didn’t start with a difficult choreography. The moves were loose, well stretched out to the rhythm of the song, and the first part didn’t involve any close interaction with Hanbin, only a part where you were standing in front of him and did the same moves in the opposite direction.

You monitored the two of you in the front mirror, and you could tell that the difference between you two were obvious, the way his muscles were ready to dance any given second and the way you were still a bit stiff, still just getting into it. Hanbin didn’t comment on it though, instead, he turned to you when the class was over and raised his hands for a high-five.

“We were good, weren’t we?” He flashed you a wide smile that not even the drops of sweat rolling down his cheeks could wash away.

You looked at him, trying with a smile, but you couldn’t get any words out, and maybe that was what pushed the boy to ask:

“Did I do something wrong?”

The way he asked was so sincere, so earnest, you had to look away to not see the genuine worry in his eyes because you didn’t deserve it. Besides, there was no use getting used to someone’s worry when they could hurt you anytime and not even apologise for it.

“Nope. It’s not you, it’s me,” you let him know before gathering your stuff and leaving him behind in the practise room.

Going back to dancing after taking time off due to your injury was like meeting an old friend: you were expecting to feel the same thrill, reminiscence about the good times together, but instead, all you felt was fear and anxiety over what could go wrong and how you could have messed it up so bad.

The only thing that helped you through this transition was Hanbin. At first, you were suspicious of him because he seemed too kind, too gentle, too positive, but after a while, you realised that was just who he was, and he wasn’t playing a part. Unlike you who had to put on your best act each and every time to not crumble like a sand castle swept away by the waves of the sea.

You were actually starting to feel more comfortable around him, something that you had not seen coming with your tendency to keep a distance from people since the injury, but then, the dance teacher decided to put a part into the choreography where you were supposed to spin out of Hanbin’s arms.

At first, you thought that you were fine. It had been a year since you had done that move, it was okay. It was supposed to be okay. There were no stairs around you after all, you weren’t even on a stage but in a practise room, and it was Hanbin beside you, not your previous dance partner. Yet, the flashbacks of that day, of that performance, of your injury came crashing down on you, and instead of spinning out of his arms, your legs stayed cemented into the ground, your left hand holding onto his right hand, your eyes closing in the meantime.

You heard your erratic heartbeat pulsating in your ears, making your head spin, your chest heaping up and down in a panicked manner. Your whole body froze in time, in the memory, in the past version of you, the one before you had gone through the worst year of your life. You were waiting for the crush, the excruciating pain in your leg, in your side, in your back. The needle-like feeling of the ache setting in, and the numbness that took hold of you afterwards.

You were waiting for all of it, and yet… none came. Instead, you heard Hanbin’s voice faintly, and both him and your dance teacher were around you when you dared to open your eyes. You didn’t even hear what they were saying, you merely held onto Hanbin’s hand while croaking out:

“Can we take a break… please?”

Your own voice sounded distant, unfamiliar, but as you broke through the remains of the flashback and heard your own words, the rest of the haunting feeling slowly faded away, and you heard your teacher’s answer clearly:

“Let’s finish class early today, and next time, we can talk about how to proceed with this part. Alright?” She suggested, her voice taking on a more gentle tone. She knew about your injury, so she must have sensed that you acted this way because of the flashbacks.

You bobbed your head, and once she was out of sight and you were sure that you stood on the ground firmly, you let go of Hanbin’s hand. The boy hesitated only for a short moment before he asked:

“What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head. No, nothing. No one could do anything to help this situation but you yourself, and you knew this, but still it was so difficult, and Hanbin… he deserved to know at least why you were acting this way. Even if you couldn’t word it, even if he couldn’t help it, you pulled your phone out of your bag and showed him the video of that performance.

“You aren’t standing in the centre,” Hanbin noticed right away, and you just hummed in agreement.

Before you had your dry rehearsal, your dance partner had been texting his girlfriend when you had been instructed about the position of the cameras and the lights and which sticker plastered onto the ground you should stand behind. He had done the dance routine with you, but when the time had come for the actual performance, he had chosen the wrong sticker though you had told him that he had been wrong.

“I’m never wrong. I’ve been dancing for longer than you have,” he had told you off and though you couldn’t have seen his expression in the dark because the lights had been off between the performances, you had a feeling that he had been furious. Thinking that it might not be that big of a problem, you had positioned yourself taking his starting position into consideration, not your rehearsed one.

Hanbin let out an exasperated gasp when the audience in the video did the same. You had been spinning out of your partner’s arms full speed even though you had whispered to him to hold on, but he had let go. Instead of saving both of you from falling down the stairs at the edge of the stage, he had foolishly let you go, letting you stumble down the flight of stairs in your high heels and thin, skin-tight dress. You had a severely sprained ankle alongside a broken rib and back injury. You had immediately cried out from the pain, and you saw Hanbin wince when he heard your voice through the recording.

The video came to an end right then and there, and there it was, the reason behind your step back from dancing, the reason you could only have theoretical classes during your exchange program for uni because you couldn’t actually teach a dance lesson when you were advised by doctors not to. The thing is, you could have chosen to go back on the year abroad opportunity, but you had been so sick of everyone treating you with pity, knowing that you had been the girl who had fallen down the stairs that you had chosen to go away. To run away.

If only coming back wouldn't hurt so bad…

“I’m so sorry. I can’t even comprehend how it must have felt, and…”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, pocketing your phone. You had watched that video over and over again, so much that it felt like it had become a part of your identity. Ironically so, the last year had more or less taken dancing away from you, but it had given you this memory, something that now you carried with you wherever you went.

You saw the exact moment Hanbin’s calm expression changed, how it shifted into rage and frustration – so unlike him – that you embraced the storm before it even hit.

“It’s not okay. He shouldn’t have let go when he had seen the edge of the stage, he shouldn’t even have stood to the side in the beginning. What’s more, he should have reached after you, did anything, literally anything to help you break your fall, but he just stood there!”

You had screamed these sentences at the top of your lungs over and over again, but had never heard it from anyone, much less someone as gentle and composed as Hanbin. It surprised you so much that you found your facade slipping, cracking, breaking with each of his enraged words, your tears accompanying the downfall.

“You’re right. It’s not okay. It’s never been okay,” you admitted through the curtain of your tears, your voice breaking by the end.

Hanbin immediately closed the distance between you two, and put his arms around your fragile frame, shining some light onto the darkness, empathy onto the hurt, as he let you cry the tears you had been suppressing ever since you had come back to Seoul.

Time had seemed to stop when you had come back to Seoul after your year abroad. However, the more you let yourself break through the shield that the past had built around you, the more you realised that time didn’t stop, rather, it was you who made time stop by being stuck in the past memories.

Hanbin helped you make new ones, and by allowing him to guide you through your new dance journey, you began to trust him. Not just with the choreography, but with your past and your vulnerabilities. It wasn’t easy, but he was there to hold you, to be someone you could hold onto, and he was patient even when you momentarily built walls around you and your feelings.

Beside him, you realised that injuries were not an accomplishment, rather, something you should tend to as soon as possible, and let them heal even if it took time – the same applied for both physical and emotional injuries. Beside him, you weren’t terrified of falling because he held you steady and strong, his care for you just as unwavering as his support while dancing.

For the first time in a long time, you were willing to put your past behind you and start anew – in the moment, in the present, in the company of Hanbin.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

Click here for my ZB1 masterlist!

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Header taken from the 'Good So Bad' MV, story title taken from 'HELLO'.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[aventurineswife]

Hello I hope you have a good day :3

May I request Sunday, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu and Moze with the reader who is like Nikki from Shining Nikki?

Reader is kind and thoughtful, despite their enthusiasm, they still an introvert and somewhat modest about their abilities.

I hope my silly request won't be difficult for you 🥺

The Heart's Unseen Light

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Moze x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Nikki (Shining Nikki) based Reader, Emotional Intensity, Romance, Inner Conflict, Quiet Strength, Healing and Compassion, Self-Doubt, Empathy, Vulnerability, Philosophical Themes, Idealism vs. Reality, Mentorship Quiet Resilience, Supportive Relationships.

Warnings: Mild emotional tension, Internal conflict, Vulnerability, Subtle romantic undertones, Mentorship and guidance.

The scent of rich coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air of the high-rise building’s expansive office. You sat in the corner, a soft smile gracing your lips as you adjusted the delicate fabric of your blouse, its soft hues complementing the quiet elegance you always wore. The hum of the bustling office barely reached you; you preferred the solitude of your own thoughts, your introverted nature finding peace in the quiet moments.

Aventurine, however, was a world apart from your serene existence. His flamboyant energy seemed to electrify the space as he strode into the room, his eyes flicking over to you. He always seemed to bring a burst of vibrant life with him, a stark contrast to your more understated presence.

"Ah, there you are," Aventurine’s voice cut through the air, smooth and rich with the cadence of someone used to getting what they wanted. He gave you one of his signature smiles—a charming, calculated expression that masked his true intentions. "I trust you're not too buried in work today, are you?"

You looked up from the papers you’d been absently flicking through, your cheeks heating slightly. Despite your best efforts, it was hard to ignore the magnetic presence he commanded. You shook your head, offering him a polite smile.

“No, just catching up on a few things. It’s a quiet day,” you replied softly, not wanting to make too much noise, even though you secretly enjoyed his presence.

He raised an eyebrow, his earring catching the light as his gaze lingered on you for a moment too long. “A quiet day?” He leaned closer, the warmth of his smile almost overwhelming. “I doubt anything with you ever stays quiet for long.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling a slight flutter in your chest. Aventurine was always so self-assured, so bold, and you were... well, you were you—kind, thoughtful, and content with being in the background. Still, you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Beneath the mask of charm and the dazzling exterior, there were cracks, little hints that there was something more beneath the surface. Something vulnerable, though he hid it well.

“I’m just...” You paused, unsure how to express it. “I like to take things slowly, I guess.” You stammered out a laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, even as the slightest bit of anxiety bubbled within.

Aventurine seemed to sense the shift in your energy. He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as he studied you, a glimmer of genuine curiosity behind his eyes. "Slowly, you say?" His voice softened, almost contemplative. "I suppose not everyone is as eager to race ahead as I am. But," he flashed his signature grin again, "I’ve always admired people who know when to take a step back. It’s an art form, really."

You felt your cheeks burn at his words, unsure how to respond. You were modest about your talents, always so aware of your limitations compared to others, especially someone like him. His unrelenting self-confidence made you want to retreat further into your shell, but there was something about his words—something genuine—that made you want to stay.

“I don’t know about art,” you murmured, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m just... trying to do what I can, when I can.”

Aventurine’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, more subtly this time. His eyes softened as he observed you. “You’re not like most people, are you?” he said, more to himself than to you, though you could still hear the underlying admiration in his voice.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity that flashed in his eyes. Before you could process his words, he placed a hand gently on the back of your chair, the weight of his touch sending an unexpected warmth through you. "Keep playing it your way," he continued, his tone low and quiet. "Sometimes the greatest moves are the ones nobody sees coming."

Aventurine straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face, as if the moment had never happened. But you could feel the change, the way his presence lingered longer than it usually did.

“Now,” he said, eyes twinkling once more with that familiar mischievousness, “I believe there’s a certain game I’m due to win. Care to join me?”

The dimly lit training room smelled faintly of incense and leather, an environment where every step felt deliberate, every action precise. You stood in front of a mirror, adjusting the strap of your gear, and tried to steady your nerves. Your heart raced, but you fought the fluttering inside, your thoughts swirling with doubt. It wasn’t that you were afraid—no, it was just... you never quite felt like you belonged in the world of secrecy and shadow where Moze thrived.

Moze, for his part, remained a silent figure at the back of the room. His eyes were sharp as ever, watching you with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten. The Shadow Guard rarely spoke, his presence like an impenetrable wall of cool detachment. Yet, there was a certain weight to his silence that you had come to understand. He was always analyzing, always calculating, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at you.

"How is your technique?" His voice cut through the stillness, low and unyielding, yet without a trace of judgment. His presence loomed behind you, but he gave you the space you needed to answer.

You exhaled softly, fighting to keep your hands steady. "I think it’s... okay," you said, modest as always. "I’m not as fast as I should be, but I’m trying." You straightened your stance, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

A single eyebrow arched ever so slightly, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something in Moze’s eyes—something that wasn’t just cold calculation, but perhaps a hint of acknowledgment. "Trying is all any of us can do," he said, his words almost a rarity for someone who spoke so little. "It’s not about speed. It’s about control."

You turned to face him, unsure if he was speaking about the mission ahead or about you. But Moze's gaze never wavered, and for some reason, his presence settled the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. Despite his stoic nature, he seemed to understand more than he let on.

"I don't want to disappoint anyone," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Especially you."

There was a brief silence before Moze took a single step closer. His violet eyes never left yours, but there was something about the way his gaze softened, just for a fraction of a moment, that made your heart skip a beat.

"You won’t disappoint," Moze said, his tone as cold and detached as always. But there was a depth in his words that made you believe him, despite yourself.

You were surprised at the small warmth you felt from his reassurance, though you didn’t dare show it. Moze had always been a man of few words, and even fewer emotions. Yet, in this brief exchange, you realized that there was more to him than just the hardened exterior of the assassin.

"Don’t overthink it," he continued, stepping back, his demeanor returning to its usual icy calm. "Perfection is a myth. It’s about finding your own rhythm. I trust you’ll do what’s necessary."

You nodded, still a bit overwhelmed by the brief connection you’d shared. As Moze disappeared into the shadows, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of determination build within you. Perhaps, just like him, you had the strength to endure, no matter the challenges ahead.

The golden halo behind Sunday’s head shimmered faintly as he gazed into the night sky, a small but visible crack in his otherwise serene expression. The Astral Express was quiet at this hour, the rhythmic hum of the train offering a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. Yet, a certain warmth had settled beside him—one that, despite his ever-present calm, stirred something deep within him.

It was you.

You sat beside him on the deck, a cup of tea held gently in your hands, the steam rising in delicate tendrils. Your presence was always a balm to him, a reminder of the quiet beauty that could be found in the world, even amidst his turbulent soul.

“Are you troubled?” you asked softly, your voice like a soft breeze that broke through the tension he could never seem to shake. You were perceptive, always knowing when something weighed on him, though you rarely pushed him to speak. It was a trait that Sunday had come to admire deeply, even if he couldn’t quite figure out why you seemed so different from others who had tried to approach him in the past.

He turned his gaze to you, his expression unreadable. Yet, there was something in his eyes—something tender, something only you seemed to understand. “I wonder,” he began, his voice soft but filled with unspoken gravity, “if people like me are capable of true happiness. I’ve seen so much suffering… and, sometimes, I wonder if my vision is just a fleeting illusion.”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup before setting it down. Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you knew Sunday was not one to be swayed by fleeting emotions. His inner conflict ran deep, shaped by his past and his ideals.

“You’ve helped so many, Sunday,” you said quietly, your voice steady but warm. “Perhaps the answer isn’t in achieving perfect happiness. Perhaps it’s in the moments you bring light to others… even when the world feels heavy.”

His wings fluttered slightly at the edge of his ears, a subtle indication of the emotions he didn’t often show. He leaned back, his gaze now softening as he took in your words.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual melancholic demeanor. "But how can I keep fighting when the road ahead feels so uncertain?"

You leaned closer, gently touching his hand in a gesture of comfort. The warmth of your touch grounded him, making the weight of his doubts feel a little lighter. You had always been a source of peace for him, in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

“We don’t have to have all the answers, Sunday,” you said with a quiet sincerity that made his heart skip a beat. “But as long as we keep walking forward, we can find meaning in what we do—no matter how small it may seem.”

Sunday’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply be present. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the vast expanse of the stars.

“I suppose that’s enough,” he whispered, a fragile but hopeful smile gracing his lips.

The air in the Yaoqing war tent was thick with the scent of alchemical potions and herbs. Jiaoqiu moved with quiet precision, his hands steady despite the fatigue that clung to him. His eyes, sharp yet closed, betrayed nothing of the torment that simmered beneath his calm exterior. He had grown used to the constant cycle of life and death, but it never became easier.

You had been assisting him for days now, and despite your modest nature, your quiet determination had earned his trust. He could feel the gentleness in your touch, the careful way you adjusted bandages or prepared the healing mixtures. Despite your introverted demeanor, there was an energy to you that couldn’t be ignored—a warmth that contrasted the grim atmosphere of the battlefield.

Jiaoqiu paused as you approached, your soft steps barely a whisper against the stone floor. You were carrying a fresh batch of herbs for the next round of medicine, your usual enthusiasm tempered by the heaviness of the war surrounding you.

“Here,” you said quietly, offering the herbs to him with a modest smile. “I thought these might help with the soldiers’ recovery.”

He reached for the herbs, his fingers brushing against yours. For a moment, you froze, the subtle connection sparking an unexpected warmth within you. Jiaoqiu’s seemed to sense your presence in a way that was both disarming and comforting.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice as smooth and gentle as always. “You have a kind heart, even if you don’t show it often.”

You shifted, embarrassed by the compliment. Despite your kindness, you always found it difficult to accept praise, especially from someone as composed as Jiaoqiu. “I—I just want to help,” you stammered. “I’m not as skilled as you.”

Jiaoqiu smiled, the edges of his lips curving upward in a way that softened his usually serious demeanor. “Skills can be taught,” he replied, his voice laced with wisdom. “But the heart—the desire to help others—that is something much rarer. You have that in abundance.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart flutter, both touched and overwhelmed. Despite the war, despite the losses he had witnessed, Jiaoqiu was still able to recognize the goodness in others, even when it was hidden behind quiet modesty.

“You’re doing more than you realize,” he continued, his voice growing more thoughtful. “In a world like this, your compassion is a rare gift. Don’t ever doubt the difference you make.”

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, and though his vision was clouded, there was a depth to his gaze that made you feel understood in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t need to see to understand the weight you carried, the burden of war that had been etched into your soul.

“You—thank you,” you said softly, the words barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you. “No need to thank me. Just… keep being who you are. That is more than enough.”

As you turned to leave, Jiaoqiu’s voice stopped you. “You’ll be all right, you know. In this world full of chaos, your light will always shine through.”

The words, simple as they were, made your heart swell. Despite the ongoing battle, despite the never-ending struggle, you knew that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t walking this path alone. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough to keep going.

[sweetheartsnips]

Saiyans x Virgin Reader HCs

In honour of me being back on tumblr after like 6 years here are some short HCs for my fav Saiyans x virgin reader that I threw together while eating lunch. 

Not inherently explicit but 18+

A/N : you can probably expect more of this kinda stuff from me in between my more substantial stuff on ao3 from now on because I am possessed and have too many thoughts.

Goku 

Goku has quietly been waiting for you to bring up the topic for quite a while. He has tried to be subtle (but if Goku is anything it is definitely not subtle) with touches that linger a bit too long to innocent: squeezing your hips, thigh holding that goes a little too high, and eyes that wander over your body with that hungry look of his. Of course, he would be patient, just for you, and would wait until you were comfortable enough giving yourself to him in that way.

“Really? We can do that? Can we go and do it right now?”

Goku would get lost in the opportunity to show you how much he likes you in such a physical way. He works with his hands, after all. 

He would get so distracted– he would be so excited just for foreplay. Running his hands over your body greedily, going down on you like the himbo glutton he is. He would be so happy just like this, he would almost forget about the main event. 

A very vocal partner. Mostly just gibberish about how soft and wet you are, and how pretty you look. He would go all out to make you feel good (he has crazy stamina) and would make you scream at least a few times. 

Vegeta

Vegeta by nature is confident, dominant and has control of the entire situation. He wouldn’t ever tell you, but he has planned everything out to minimise any risk of disappointing you. He wants your first time to be perfect so as to not bruise your image of him. 

He is also quite possessive, and the thought that you are trusting him and him alone with this feeds his pride immensely. 

He is quite cocky, but also has the ability to please you to back it up. 

“I’m the only one that can give you this, let me take care of you.”

Would tease you for hours beforehand if you let him: it amuses him to see you squirm and beg. He can read your body like a map, exploiting all of your sensitive spots. 

“You’ve gone from so demure to so needy, I’ve ruined you already, haven’t I?” 

He wants you to think you’re lucky for having the opportunity to be intimate with a prince, but he actually feels grateful that you’re allowing him to be your first. 

Gohan

Gohan would be incredibly flustered when you ask him to be your first.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disappoint you..”

Although ever humble, he is so flattered that you would choose him to take your virginity. He would take you on a date beforehand, give you oodles of affection and make sure the occasion is as comfortable and relaxing for you as possible.

Surprise! Once he is in bed with you he becomes a mess. Little whimpers and moans, his skin flushed but cool with sweat as he presses his body against you. 

“You feel so good…you look so perfect. Does that feel good, sweetheart?” 

Is entirely focused on you, and doesn’t draw things out for too long. He wants to please you, to be good for you. 

He watches your face closely, using your expressions and sounds as a guide, slowly becoming more and more sure of himself. Once he is sure you’re enjoying yourself, he finds it much easier to slip and lose himself in his own pleasure.

Gohan also gives the best aftercare ever.

Future Trunks

Trunks is a gentle lover, as gentle as they come. When you ask him to be your first, he would be over the moon, and excited to show his affection for you. 

“I promise I’ll make it good for you. We can do everything exactly as you want.”

Trunks would worship your body with caresses and kisses beforehand, taking things slowly to build your anticipation and show you how much he cares. His touch would be gentle, full of love and reverence. He doesn’t get the chance to show you often, between time travel and all. 

He would take you in missionary, cupping the side of your face and get lost in your pleasure-dazed eyes. As he senses your growing need, his touch will gradually become more firm and confident, feeding off of the way your body takes him. 

Trunks also moans pretty. 

“It’s like you were made for me…I’m so lucky.”

Afterwards, Trunks would hold you close, letting you rest against his muscly chest. Forehead kisses, savouring your smell. 

“Thank you for being mine.”

Broly (Super) 

Broly is initially confused.

“Your…first? First to do what?” 

When you sheepishly explain to him he goes as red as a tomato. It seems it would be his first time too. 

Your size differences would make things a little awkward to navigate first, but you end up being most comfortable underneath him, caged underneath his hulking body. He likes to have you like this: as if he is keeping you safe and shielding you from the world. Despite his imposing demeanour, he is a blushing mess– nervous and afraid of messing up.

Broly lets you take the lead a bit. He is very careful in foreplay, letting you guide him to ensure your safety and comfort. He is a little afraid of hurting you, and this is reflected in his timid actions, but he soon comes out of his shell with your reassurances.

He loves the taste of your skin, the warmth of your body. He is so touch-deprived that with each little brush of your skin against his he has to stifle a whine. 

Broly finds it difficult to find the right words to say, instead choosing to show you how much he enjoys you with his hands.

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Promise me

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: You have loki make a promise to you.

Word count: 902

Warnings: slight angst & Fluff

A/N: my first fic in the new year. hope you enjoy :)

The nights had always felt longer when Loki wasn’t around. You couldn’t quite explain it, but there was a certain chill in the air when he was away, a kind of emptiness that filled your home with silence. He had a way of making everything feel just a little brighter like the space between the stars was somehow wider when he was with you. But when he was on watch, whether it was in Asgard, on Midgard with SHIELD and Thor, or somewhere beyond your reach, the nights were a different kind of quiet.

You had tried to fill the void in various ways, always looking for distractions. Some nights, you would curl up with a book, only to find that the words blurred into a haze as you thought about him. Other nights, you’d cook something you knew he would’ve enjoyed if he were there. Tonight was one of those nights.

You’d spent the evening in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, lost in the rhythm of cooking. The smell of roasted garlic and simmering herbs filled the air, a comforting scent you knew would linger even when Loki wasn't there to share it with you.

You were just finishing up when there was a knock at the door. A loud, confident knock that made you smile despite the sudden flutter in your chest. You opened it, and standing there with his usual mischievous grin was Thor, holding a very familiar figure by the shoulder.

Loki.

You felt your heart leap, a warmth spreading through you as he stepped inside, eyes meeting yours. “I trust you’ve kept your kitchen well-stocked, Y/N?” he said, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Loki…” you breathed, the relief in your voice clear as you stepped aside to let him in.

Thor, ever the practical one, was already heading towards the table, a slightly concerned frown on his face. “Dinner smells good,” he remarked, though his expression quickly shifted to one of awkwardness. “But it has to be short, Y/N. Loki has to return to Asgard soon.”

You felt your smile falter, but only for a moment. It was true, Loki’s duties were never far behind him, even in the rare moments he had to himself. Still, you nodded, not wanting to push him. “Of course,” you said, gesturing for them to sit. “I made enough for all of us, so we’ll enjoy what time we have.”

The dinner was as lively as it could be, Thor’s booming laughter filling the room and Loki’s quiet wit contrasting it perfectly. You cherished these moments, knowing they were fleeting. But as much as you wanted to hold onto every second, you could feel the weight of time pressing on the evening. Thor’s gaze kept flicking to the window, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have to take Loki back to whatever duties awaited him.

Eventually, Thor stood, giving you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “It’s time.”

Loki, who had been unusually quiet, stood as well, brushing his hands off. “I will return, of course,” he said, though there was a flicker of something. Something bittersweet in his eyes as he met your gaze.

Thor clapped him on the back and gave you a warm, though strained, smile. “You’ll have to keep him out of trouble while he’s here,” he said before turning toward the door.

As soon as they were gone, you returned to the empty table, the silence falling over you once again. You had gotten so used to it by now, but it never quite felt like home without Loki. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something, someone, was missing.

But just as you were about to begin clearing the dishes, a sound caught your attention. The faintest creak of the floorboards. You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You turned slowly toward the hallway. And there, standing in the doorway, was Loki.

You blinked in disbelief. “Loki?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He grinned that familiar mischievous grin. “Did you think you could get rid of me so easily?” he asked, stepping forward into the soft light of the kitchen. “You’re never alone for long, my dear.”

“But how? Thor—” You started, but Loki raised a hand, cutting you off.

“I’m resourceful, Y/N,” he said, with that glint of pride in his eyes. “You may not know it, but I’m always watching. Always finding ways to be close to you. Even when I’m on watch.”

Your heart swelled as you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. It felt like a dream, having him here in the flesh, with his warmth and the scent of Asgard still lingering on his cloak.

“Promise me,” you murmured into his shoulder, “promise me you’ll always find a way back to me. No matter what.”

Loki’s voice was low and soft as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Always, Y/N. No matter the distance, no matter the time. I will always find a way back to you.”

That night, you didn’t feel the emptiness that usually lingered. Instead, you felt complete. In his arms, with his warmth, you knew that no matter the challenges, Loki would always make time for you, even if the stars themselves had to shift to make it happen.

And for once, the night didn’t feel so long.

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[jetii]

Event Horizon Chapter Seven: Forward (Rex POV Rewrite)

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Introduction

Pairing: Rex x Soma (Goldie)

WC: 3,081

Tags/Warnings: Rex being an awkward cutie patootie as per usual, mention of blood/battle scenes

A/N: This is a retelling of Rex and Goldie's second meeting in my x reader longfic Event Horizon from Rex's perspective. The timing of this week perfectly synced up with the latest chapter where it's revealed just how down horrendous Rex is for her, so I'm thrilled about that lol.

Experimenting with third person perspective vs second person here and in future EH one-shots for my own amusement. Soma "Goldie" Anathorn is my pride and joy Reader turned OC, and some day I'd like to rewrite EH in third person too.

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When Rex walks into the hangar, trailing behind Commander Tano, he's expecting to see General Skywalker and Cody. He's expecting a plan, a list of objectives, a timeline.

He's not expecting her.

At first, it's not her he sees, just a Jedi. It's her clothes, and the lightsaber, and the confident set of her shoulders. He'd read the briefing, of course. But the briefing didn't say much. The briefing didn't include what General Soma Anathorn looked like, how she carried herself, what her voice sounded like. It certainly didn't include that she was the very same Jedi he'd pulled out of the desert on Geonosis.

And then she's turning, and the shock is so great that he nearly trips over his own feet.

He'd recognize those eyes anywhere. They'd been burned into his mind for months, the color, the emotion, the depth. They're a little softer now, a little less intense, but there's no mistaking them.

She recognizes him, too. He can see it in the way her eyes widen, in the way her mouth parts. There's a look on her face, a hint of awe, and he wonders if he looks the same, if the shock is mirrored in his expression.

Her mouth moves, her lips shaping his name, and it feels as though time slows. He's standing in the sand again, the sun beating down on his armor, the heat making his skin prickle. The smell of sweat and dirt and blood is in the air, and the sounds of the battle echo in his ears. He can hear the buzzing of the bugs, the cries of the dying, the distant explosions.

As quick as the memory comes, it's gone. He's back in the hangar, and she's saying his name, and the world spins back into focus.

She looks the same. The same dark, wild hair, the same warm skin, the same fierce determination. The features are just as beautiful and striking as he remembers, even more so without the blood and dust and exhaustion.

She looks the same, and it's a punch to the gut, like he's been thrown out an airlock and can't breathe. He'd forgotten, somehow, the effect she'd had on him. The effect she was still having. She looks just as she did in his dreams, just as she did when he'd thought about her, wondered what became of her. And now, here she is. He has half a mind to pinch himself, just to see if he's awake.

And then he remembers where he is and who's watching, and the feeling is replaced by embarrassment. He schools his expression into a mask of calm professionalism and tries to suppress the flush on his cheeks.

"Do you two know each other?" Ahsoka asks. Rex fights the urge to glare at her. It's an innocent question, and he knows it, but he can't help the annoyance. She looks like she's barely containing her glee, the grin on her face so wide her eyes are crinkling.

"We've met," Rex manages. The words sound strange, like they're coming from someone else, but they're steady. It's a small mercy. He glances at Skywalker and then back, nodding. "Good to see you again, General."

"Good to see you, too," she replies, and her lips twitch. 

Her eyes rove over him, taking him in, and there's an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race. It's not a bad feeling, not at all. In fact, he's enjoying the attention, if he's being honest. There's something about the way she's looking at him, the way her eyes are locked on his, that makes him feel a little hot under the collar.

For a moment, no one speaks, and the silence stretches between the five of them. General Kenobi is watching him like a hawk, and Skywalker and Ahsoka are exchanging conspiratorial glances. He has a feeling they're going to make fun of him later. 

He has no doubt that Ahsoka will tell the rest of the men, and he's not looking forward to the teasing that's sure to come. He's already endured enough teasing about his apparent lack of interest in women and his devotion to his job. He can't imagine the shit he'll have to put up with when word gets out that the woman he's been daydreaming about is actually a Jedi General. And not just any Jedi either. One with a reputation.

But all that is a problem for later. Right now, his only concern is keeping his expression neutral and his pulse steady.

"So, uh, how do you two know each other?" General Skywalker asks after a minute.

"He saved my life," she answers, and there's a hint of a smile in her voice, her eyes still on his. "On Geonosis. He dragged me back to the ship when I was injured."

"It was nothing, sir," he mumbles. He rubs the back of his neck and tries not to let the flush show. "Any trooper would've done the same."

"Maybe, but they didn't," she insists. She takes a step closer to him, and her eyes narrow, her jaw setting. There's a fierceness in her expression, a stubbornness that reminds him of the first time he met her. "You did."

He can't think of anything to say to that, his mind completely devoid of any coherent thought. She's still looking at him like she wants to memorize every inch of his face, and it's making it impossible for him to concentrate.

The sound of General Kenobi clearing his throat breaks the spell, and he snaps his head to the side. The man is looking at him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, his arms crossed, his expression contemplative. He can't help but wither under his gaze, the scrutiny making him squirm.

General Kenobi is a good man and a good general, but he's also her closest friend and confidant. The two of them are practically family, and it's well known among the men that they're often joined at the hip. He knows, and fears, what the man would do to him if he knew how often Rex had thought about the woman in front of him, and the thoughts he'd had.

But to his relief, General Kenobi simply sighs and shakes his head.

"I can't believe it," he murmurs, and he sounds as bewildered as Rex feels. "The odds..."

"Me either," she says softly.

Kenobi and Skywalker exchange a look, their brows furrowed, and Rex takes the opportunity to steal another glance at her. She's looking back at him, a small smile on her face, and he can't help but return it.

The whole thing is surreal, like something out of the holonovels he keeps tucked under his bunk. To meet her again, here, after everything, seemed almost too good to be true. And yet, she was standing right in front of him.

“Then it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Captain," General Kenobi begins, and his words are measured, careful. "For doing what I could not. You have my thanks."

Rex blinks and tears his gaze away from her. Kenobi looks as calm and composed as ever, his hands clasped behind his back, but there's a tension in his shoulders, a stiffness, that betrays his true feelings.

"There's no need for that, sir," he insists. "Anyone would have done the same."

His words are sincere. Any trooper worth their salt would have done the same, would have risked their lives to save a Jedi. But there's a part of him, a tiny, selfish part, that's glad it was him. 

As soon as the thought appears, he shoves it down, down into the dark, hidden place in his mind where he keeps all the things he's not allowed to think, the things he doesn't let himself feel. It's not the time or the place, and besides, there's no point. She's a Jedi, and he's a clone, and that's all there is to it.

Kenobi holds his gaze for a moment, and then nods, accepting his answer. He hears Skywalker snort, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ahsoka roll her eyes. He tries not to look annoyed and fails, glaring at the two of them. They respond with matching smirks.

"If you say so, Rex," Anakin says, a teasing note in his voice. He looks over at Kenobi and grins. "Seems like the Force has a sense of humor."

"It appears so," Kenobi agrees, glancing at General Anathorn. "Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," she replies, her tone dry. 

She arches an eyebrow and shoots them both a pointed look, one that makes Rex's lips quirk upward. He's not the only one on the receiving end of their teasing for once, and it's nice to know that someone understands the feeling.

"I guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you, Rex," she says, and there's a smile on her face, a twinkle in her eyes, that makes his breath catch.

"Yes, it appears that way, sir," he replies, his voice gruff. He forces himself to look away, his eyes darting back to Ahsoka and General Skywalker, and the sight of their matching grins does little to calm him. 

"I look forward to working with you," she adds.

Rex can't help but glance back at her, his cheeks warming. He tries, and fails, to fight the smile that's threatening to spread across his face. "Same here."

He knows it's unprofessional, and that he needs to get a grip. But it's hard to keep a cool head when the woman he'd been thinking about for the last six months is standing in front of him and telling him she wants to see more of him.

He'd spent so long trying not to think about her. He'd told himself, repeatedly, that it was silly to hold onto the memory of a single meeting. It was nothing, his brain trying to make sense of the chaos and trauma of Geonosis. That was what he'd convinced himself. The product of adrenaline, and the fact that she was quite literally the first woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

But now, faced with the reality of her, the physicality of her presence, he has to admit that he's not as good at lying to himself as he thought.

"As touching as this is," General Skywalker begins, and he claps a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder. "We really should be going. Felucia won't liberate itself."

The young Togruta sighs, her head drooping slightly, but she allows herself to be led away. Rex watches her go, his lips forming a tight line.

"Right," Kenobi says, turning to her. "We shall see you on the ground."

He motions for General Anathorn to follow him, and she takes a few steps towards the transport before stopping. She glances over her shoulder at Rex, a small, apologetic smile on her face, and her eyebrows lift.

"I'll be right there," she says to Kenobi.

Rex can't help but stare as General Kenobi's eyes widen, and his lips press together. She shoots him a look that seems to communicate something, and the older Jedi raises an eyebrow. It's strange, the way they seem to have an entire conversation without saying a word, and he can't help but feel like he's intruding on something.

"Of course, my dear," Kenobi finally says, his tone light. "Don't be too long."

Her lips pull downward, and she rolls her eyes, though there's no real annoyance in the expression. Kenobi grins and gives her shoulder a pat, and then turns and waves down Commander Cody.

The two men stand a respectful distance away, and Rex watches them for a moment, debating whether or not to break the silence. He's not sure what he's supposed to say, or even what he wants to say. His mind is a mess of questions and emotions, and it's difficult to focus on any one thought.

She's a Jedi. He knew that. Of course, he did. But seeing her again, it's hard to think of her in the same way. She's different, somehow. More...real.

He's not sure why it matters so much. It's not like she's any different than she was six months ago. But he can't help but feel like everything has changed.

She's watching him, and there's a flush in her cheeks, a shyness in her gaze. She takes a few steps towards him, her arms crossed over her chest, and he has the distinct impression that she's as at a loss as he is.

“It’s...good to see you again, sir. And, uh, it's nice to put a name to a face," Rex finally manages, his voice formal, almost stilted. He keeps his tone light and friendly, hoping that his nerves don't show through.

"Agreed. It's nice to put a face to the name," she replies, and he smirks.

"It's not exactly a unique face, sir, but I appreciate the sentiment," he teases, unable to resist the urge to joke.

The response is immediate. She lets out a short, surprised laugh, and her expression softens, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It sends a shiver down his spine, and his embarrassment melts away, replaced by a surge of pride.

"No, I suppose it's not," she chuckles. Her eyes rove over him, taking in every feature, and his heart skips a beat. "Still, I like it. It suits you."

Rex can't stop the grin that spreads across his face, and his cheeks heat, a warmth spreading through his chest. His brain seems to have stopped working, his mind struggling to form a response.

"Thank you, sir," is all he can manage, the words coming out a little breathless under the weight of her stare.

She gives him another smile, this one more mischievous than the last, and his mouth goes dry. He doesn't think she's teasing him, not intentionally, but the way her lips quirk, the way her eyes shine, makes him suspect that she enjoys seeing him flustered.

The idea doesn't bother him as much as it probably should.

“I didn’t realize you were a Captain now," she continues.

"I am, sir," he answers, grateful for the change in topic. He takes a breath, regaining his composure. "I started my training after Geonosis, and I was promoted to Captain shortly after the start of the war."

"Impressive, Captain," she praises. She leans in slightly, her eyes brightening. "That's quite the accomplishment."

There's a warmth in her tone, a sincerity, that makes him blush again. He tries not to let it show, and he's only partially successful. His lips form a tight line, and he gives a short nod in thanks.

"I always wondered what happened to you," she says slowly. Her gaze drifts away, and she bites her lip, her brows furrowing. “I thought... well, I wasn't sure if you made it out alive."

Her words are raw, honest, and the weight of them hangs heavy in the air. It takes him a moment to process what she's saying, to understand the implication of her statement, and he finds himself blinking, a sense of shock washing over him.

She'd thought about him.

He'd thought about her, too. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that he'd been unable to stop thinking about her. But he'd never expected that she would think about him as well. He'd assumed she'd forgotten him, that his brief appearance in her life was nothing more than a footnote, a passing memory.

But she remembered him. She remembered him, and his name, and what he'd done.

The knowledge fills him with an emotion he can't quite identify, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's gratitude.

"I didn't think you would remember me, sir, if I'm being honest," he manages after a beat, his tone softer, his eyes searching. "But, if it's any consolation, I wondered the same thing."

"How could I forget?" She shakes her head, and the strands of hair sway, framing her face. "I would have died on that planet if it wasn't for you."

His lips part, and his eyebrows raise. He'd had no idea that her condition had been so dire, or that his actions had meant so much to her. It certainly hadn’t felt like that. In his memory, she had fought beside him with a ferocity and skill that he could barely comprehend, and she’d fought stubbornly against his attempts to help her in equal measure.

"And don’t say anyone would have done the same," she interrupts. Her voice is sharp, almost commanding. The look on her face, the stern frown and the narrowed eyes, is both adorable and terrifying. He's not sure whether to be amused or intimidated.

"Alright, I won't," he promises, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Good,” she huffs, and she crosses her arms over her chest, her expression petulant. "Because you'd be wrong."

Rex laughs at her insistence, the sound bursting from his lips before he can stop it. She frowns at him, her eyes narrowing further, and the reaction only makes him chuckle more.

She's ridiculous, and stubborn, and fierce, and incredibly frustrating, and, Maker, he likes her.

"So, you've said," he agrees, once he's composed himself, though the smile remains. "What I was going to say was that you gave me a hell of a fight over it. You were very insistent, as I recall."

"I suppose I was," she admits, and the admission is accompanied by a sheepish laugh. Her cheeks color, and she bites her lip, her eyes lowering. "I was reckless."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, sir," he responds immediately with shake of his head. "You did what you had to do, and it was brave. It's an honor to serve with someone like you."

She pauses, and her eyes widen. For someone so capable, so skilled, it's clear that she's not used to receiving praise. The thought bothers him. He'd seen only a glimpse of what she can do, but he’s starting to suspect that she hasn’t seen it herself. She was a formidable fighter, and the fact that she wasn't aware of that is concerning. A soldier’s confidence is often a matter of life or death, and the lack of confidence can lead to fatal mistakes.

She needs to believe in herself.

He wants her to.

"I don’t know about that," she says, her voice quiet. "But, thank you."

Rex nods. He's not sure how to put his thoughts into words, and he can't quite seem to find the right words. It frustrates him. He's always been a good speaker, had always been able to convey his ideas and his opinions with ease, but something about her makes him hesitate, makes him unsure of himself.

He's not sure why. He doesn't know her.

Well, not really.

"Well, I'd better be going," he blurts out. His eyes flicker over her shoulder, and the sight of Cody and General Kenobi watching, their eyes glued to the two of them, fills him with a sudden sense of self-consciousness. Cody is looking at him like he's lost his mind, and Kenobi is giving him a knowing look.

The feeling intensifies when he realizes just how long they've been standing there, talking, and he tries not to panic.

"Looks like General Kenobi is waiting for you," he says, trying, and failing, to affect a casual tone.

General Anathorn's gaze follows his, and she rolls her eyes. The irritated pout is back, and he bites his cheek to keep from grinning.

"Yes, I can see that," she sighs.

"Good luck, sir," he offers, his tone teasing.

She snorts. "You, too, Captain."

The words are accompanied by an exaggerated sigh, and the corners of his mouth lift, despite his best efforts. She's a far cry from the intimidating figure he'd imagined during the months after their first meeting, and he's enjoying getting to see the more relaxed side of her, the softer, gentler side.

There's a comfortable silence between them, and for a moment, he allows himself to hope. Hope for what, he's not sure, but he hopes nonetheless. Then, a familiar sense of caution washes over him, a cool wave that chases away the warmth in his chest, and he forces himself to turn.

It's not until he's back in the shuttle, surrounded by his men, that Rex allows himself a moment of relief. He'd gotten through the conversation without completely embarrassing himself, and, despite the tension, the awkwardness, the interaction had been... pleasant. He had even managed to make her laugh.

It's enough.

He knows it is.

And yet, he can't shake the feeling that it's not.

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[the0-tdh]

MOONLIT WAVES

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

A luxury cruise, the endless ocean, and a night painted in silver moonlight—M/N never imagined he’d find himself here, let alone on a date with Jay Park. The cool sea breeze carried the distant melody of a ballroom song, but nothing felt more surreal than the warmth of Jay’s hand in his own.

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

MASTERLIST

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

The ocean stretched endlessly in all directions, reflecting the deep indigo of the night sky. Stars twinkled above, mirroring the soft golden lights lining the cruise ship’s deck. A gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and the distant hum of music from the ballroom below.

M/N leaned against the railing, fingers tracing the cool metal as he let out a contented sigh. This felt surreal—being on a luxury cruise, dressed in a sharp suit, and most of all, being here with Jay Park.

Jay, who was standing beside him, hands tucked into the pockets of his blazer, tilted his head slightly. “You’re quiet,” he mused, his voice barely above the sound of the waves. “Not enjoying the view?”

M/N chuckled. “No, it’s beautiful. Just… taking it all in.”

Jay hummed in approval, then shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against M/N’s. “I get it. This whole thing feels like something out of a movie, huh?”

M/N turned his gaze to Jay, watching the way the moonlight softened his usually sharp features. “Yeah. I never imagined myself on a fancy cruise ship, let alone on a date with you.”

Jay smirked, his usual confidence flickering in his eyes. “You make it sound like I’m some unattainable prince.”

“Well,” M/N teased, “aren’t you?”

Jay laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” But there was a softness in his expression, something tender that made M/N’s heart stutter.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sounds being the lapping waves and distant chatter from other passengers. Then, Jay reached for M/N’s hand, fingers lacing together naturally.

“Wanna dance?” Jay asked, nodding toward the deck where a few couples swayed to the music drifting from the ballroom.

M/N hesitated. “Here? Now?”

“Yeah,” Jay grinned. “What, scared someone will see?”

M/N scoffed. “No, just… I’m not great at dancing.”

Jay tugged him forward. “Good thing I am, then.”

Before M/N could protest further, Jay pulled him close, guiding him into a slow sway. The sound of the ocean faded, the warmth of Jay’s hand on his waist grounding him. They moved in sync, the moment feeling almost too perfect to be real.

“You know,” Jay murmured, “I like this.”

M/N tilted his head. “Like what?”

“This. Us. You.”

M/N felt warmth rise to his cheeks. “You’re being romantic,” he teased.

Jay chuckled, dipping his head slightly so their foreheads nearly touched. “Is that bad?”

M/N shook his head, his voice softer now. “Not at all.”

Jay’s hand squeezed his gently. “Good.”

As they continued to sway under the moonlight, with nothing but the sound of waves and their quiet breaths between them, M/N realized something.

Maybe, just maybe, this was a moment he’d want to last forever.

The song playing from the ballroom below faded into another soft melody, but neither M/N nor Jay moved to stop. The gentle sway of the ship made their movements feel even more effortless, like floating in a dream.

M/N had always thought Jay carried himself with an air of cool confidence, but in this moment—under the silver glow of the moon, with his hands resting on M/N’s waist—he looked at ease in a way that felt… different. Softer. More real.

"You know," Jay murmured, his breath warm against M/N’s temple, "if someone told me a few months ago that I'd be dancing with you on a cruise ship, I would’ve laughed."

M/N scoffed playfully. "Wow. And here I thought this was all part of your master plan."

Jay chuckled. "Oh, don’t get me wrong. I definitely planned on making you fall for me. I just didn’t expect to fall harder."

M/N’s breath hitched at the honesty in Jay’s voice. He pulled back slightly to look at him, their faces close enough that he could see every detail—the way Jay’s lips curved into a small smile, the way his dark eyes held an emotion that sent warmth blooming in M/N’s chest.

"You really mean that?" M/N asked, voice quieter than before.

Jay nodded, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on M/N’s back. "Yeah. I do."

M/N didn't know how to respond. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and for once, he wasn’t sure if it was the swaying ship or the way Jay was looking at him.

Before he could think too hard about it, Jay spoke again. "You’re overthinking," he teased. "Relax."

"Kind of hard to do when you’re saying things like that."

Jay smirked. "Then let me make it easier for you."

And before M/N could process what was happening, Jay closed the small distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of M/N’s lips—just enough to make his mind go completely blank.

M/N blinked, stunned, as Jay pulled back with an amused glint in his eyes. "See? Not so hard to just enjoy the moment, right?"

M/N swallowed, feeling his face heat up. "You’re impossible."

Jay grinned. "But you like that about me."

M/N rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe."

Jay laughed, then, without warning, spun M/N in a playful twirl before pulling him back into his arms.

The world around them faded—just the waves, the music, and the warmth between them remained.

And for the first time in a long while, M/N didn’t feel like an outsider in a world he didn’t belong to. He felt wanted.

He felt at home.