#It's been sitting in my notes too long and I just kinda want it gone so we're going to get it gone.

[stellactrums]

An Exercise in Trust 🗡️🩸 | AO3

Pairing: Abysswalker Rafayel x Princess MC Summary: The Sea demands a follower. Lemuria demands a sacrifice. Rafayel wonders when it will be his turn to make demands instead. Rating: Explicit 🔞 Words: 7,857 Tags: POV Third Person, POV Rafayel, Unnamed Main Character, AFAB Main Character, MC uses she/her pronouns, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, PIV Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Fighting As Foreplay, Knifeplay, Bloodplay (kinda), Under-negotiated Kink (i.e. the aforementioned knife and blood play are not discussed beforehand but they're both little freaks on the same wavelength), Soul Bond, Mildly Dubious Consent (she compels him with the soul bond but make no mistake he wants her lol), Rafayel speaks Lemurian (but it's like four words and i made up three of them lol), Mild Gore (it's a brief line and does not actually happen) Notes: Originally posted to AO3 on March 7, 2025. I have the biggest heart eyes for Abysswalker, so here I am! I probably-maybe-definitely took some accidental liberties with the lore because all the different timelines confuse me, so I interpreted it as best I can. There's also some made-up Lemurian language. I tried my best based on the few phrases we've heard in the game. Endless thanks to my friend Sepia for beta-reading this and for hyping me up ever since this was still just an idea in my brain! And additional thanks to Sepia, Maz, and Belle for all giving me feedback when I was stuck. This fic wouldn't exist without you <3 Lemurian Translations: "Huerte mea" → "My heart" and "Vesta mea" → "My bride"

“I will cut out your heart with a dagger honed, my darling. And in Love’s name, your heart will become my faith. 

Your body will be washed clean, shine like a pearl. 

I will care for your heart. Till we meet again. And you reclaim it for yourself.” 

– Siren’s Ballad, Act III: Muia

The desert winds tonight are punishing, noisily rattling the structure of their tent, and the Princess of Philos shivers as she peers outside. She pulls the blanket draped across her form tighter around her shoulders and cranes her neck, turning her gaze up to the sky. 

Rafayel watches her from the corner of his eye. He has spent the previous half-hour sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, tending to his garb and attempting to mend a tear in the seams. But his fingers now idle, and the leathers are long forgotten across his lap, only half-sewn, as he finds himself too distracted to continue. 

It is, perhaps, the longest Her Highness has ever gone without saying a single word in his presence. Rafayel is accustomed to the sound of her continuous chatter as she flits from subject to subject like a hummingbird searches for nectar, so much so that her sudden silence is a void by comparison. It is almost like she has forgotten he is even there. He wonders what it is that has stolen her attention and has her so captivated.

Even with her back turned toward him, Rafayel still cannot help but stare. His gaze sweeps over her form, following the shape of her hair, held in place with pins made of diamonds and gold. The drab, tattered blanket that surrounds her is unbecoming of a princess, a stark contrast to the rest of her elegance.

He longs to reach out for her and replace the blanket with the warmth of his embrace. To banish whatever thoughts have been keeping her mind so otherwise occupied. It is an old yet familiar twinge of jealousy that has followed him through the ages. He wants to be the sole object of her focus.

But Rafayel stays his hand, tightening his grip on the needle between his fingertips, and desperately tries to silence the yearning in his chest. He cannot allow himself to go down this path—not again, not when he has already strayed too far simply by being here with her in the first place. 

A particularly strong breeze blows through the gap in the tent’s opening, strong enough that Rafayel can feel it from where he sits. The Princess draws in a sharp breath, turning away as the wind hits her face. She shivers again and mutters a low curse beneath her breath, wrinkling her nose in a way that is so unbearably endearing. 

Rafayel lowers his gaze. A faint smile touches his mouth.

“Your Highness should not linger so close to the entrance,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

He hears the sound of fabric rustling as she closes the flap to the tent, then soft footfalls. Her shadow enters his peripheral, morphing with his into a single, exaggerated shape, and Rafayel looks up when she finally stands in front of him. She kneels onto her bedroll that is laid out opposite of his, clutching the blanket close to her chest. 

“I wanted to look at the stars,” she replies. 

Flickering flames from the oil lamp that illuminates their tent cast shadows over her face and dance across her delicate features. The subtle pout of her lip indicates her disappointment, and her eyes shine even in the low light, as if the stars themselves have made their home within. 

A knot forms in the pit of Rafayel’s stomach. He sets his armor aside and sticks the sewing needle into it, marking his place. 

“Your Highness has seen the stars before,” he says.

“Not like these.”

“Are these same stars not visible from the palace?”

“They are much prettier out here than in the city.” Her Highness looks down as another chill runs through her body. She picks at the fraying edges of her blanket. “I wanted to admire them during our last trip out here, but the sandstorm prevented us from doing so.”

Rafayel sighs quietly. Before he can think better of it, he reaches across the short distance between them and covers her hands with his. Her fingers are cool to the touch from the night air, so he brings them to his lips and warms them with his breath.

The Princess’ eyes widen. A soft, surprised sound sticks in her throat. But then, she smiles, and the faint, melodic lilt of her laughter makes the knot in Rafayel’s stomach twist and tighten. 

She leans toward him. The blanket slips from her shoulders, falling to the ground behind her, and Rafayel stares at her over the tops of their hands. The gold embroidery of her tunic glitters in the dim light against lavender and black fabric, forming an endless web of intricate patterns that draw his gaze downward—over the swell of her chest, the dip in her waist, the sloping rise of her hips.

“Won’t you look at the stars with me, Rafayel?” she asks him, breaking his reverie.

Reluctantly, Rafayel releases her with a sudden pang of guilt, wishing so badly to tell her that he would give her the stars if he could. Instead, he pulls back, ignoring the look of disappointment that flashes through her eyes. 

“Your Highness… should retire for the night,” he says.

The Princess lowers her gaze, watching as Rafayel lays his hands across his lap, then looks back into his eyes. 

“But I’m not tired yet,” she says. “Also, you promised we would spar tonight.”

A flush creeps up the back of Rafayel’s neck and warms his ears. He clears his throat and shakes his head, recalling what transpired after their last training session. A repeat of events would not be appropriate.

“It is late, and the wind is too strong,” he says. Raising an eyebrow, he regards her with a look of amusement, unable to resist the urge to tease her. “And someone wanted to stay up to look at the stars.”

Stubborn as ever, the Princess leans in even closer. “But someone else gave me his word.”

“We have a long journey ahead of us come morning. I must ensure Your Highness’ safe return to the city.”

The Princess scowls at him, and Rafayel frowns when she shifts subtly over to her left, her hand twitching. Faster than he expects, she snatches his dagger from its place beside his pillow, clumsily twirling it in her hand before she jabs it in his direction.

Rafayel flinches, eyes widening, and raises his hands in front of him in self-defense. 

“What—”

“One lesson,” she says, interrupting him.

He eyes the dagger, then her. “Your Highness—”

“Your Princess has given you a command.” 

Rafayel blinks in surprise. Then, he laughs—at himself, at her request, and the absurdity of the circumstances he finds himself in. If only Her Highness realized the true power she holds, her words sharper than any blade could ever be. 

“Fine,” he agrees through a sigh. As if he even has the choice. “One lesson. Your Highness must rest after that.” 

Rafayel relaxes his posture and holds out one of his hands, reassuring her with a nod and a practiced, boyish smile. Satisfied, the Princess smiles back, then moves to place the dagger in his palm. 

It is exactly the opening Rafayel needs. Leaning forward, he clasps her wrist and pulls hard, twisting her arm so the dagger’s blade points away from them both. The Princess loses her balance and falls with a gasp, and Rafayel uses the momentum he created to spin her around and yank her down onto his lap. He wraps his arm around her stomach, holding her in place as she tries to squirm away. Once sure that she is suitably restrained, he wrenches the dagger free from her hand. 

“Rafayel!”

The Princess continues to struggle, clawing at his arm and desperately trying to escape his grasp. Rafayel tightens his hold on her and overpowers each attempt to break free. She finally goes completely still, holding her breath, when he presses the flat edge of the dagger against her cheek.

He lowers his lips to her ear, his breath ghosting over the shell of it. He feels her responding shudder against him and holds her even tighter. She winces at the discomfort of his tight grip, but dares not move otherwise.

“Tonight’s lesson,” Rafayel says, soft and quiet, “shall be an exercise in trust.”

Slowly, he moves the dagger down the side of her face. The Princess releases the air from her lungs in a shaky exhale, watching him from the corner of her eye.

“Your Highness has failed the first test,” he goes on. “An assassin must never relinquish their weapon so freely.”

The Princess scoffs. “Then you also failed by letting me take it from you to begin with.”

“A bold assertion.” Rafayel laughs and brings the tip of the blade to her chin, turning her face toward him. “I do not believe Your Highness is in the position to argue.”

It is, of course, a mistake, because without another word, looking straight into his eyes, Her Highness lifts her leg and brings her heel down onto his toes—hard. 

Rafayel clenches his teeth as the pain spreads throughout his foot. When that is not enough to break free, the Princess elbows him in the ribs. Rafayel accepts the blow, doubling over with a grunt, and only then does she manage to slip out of his arms. Panic rises to Rafayel’s chest as he just narrowly avoids slicing her cheek. She falls forward onto her bedroll, crawling on hands and knees, and pulls something out from under her pillow. Whirling around, she unsheaths the simple dagger he gave her weeks prior.

Rafayel jumps to his feet and holds his blade out in front of him. Pleased with herself, the Princess grins.

“And now?” she asks him. Taunts him. 

Narrowing his eyes, Rafayel moves to strike, lunging toward her with his dagger raised above his head. The Princess stumbles backward, but she manages to catch his wrist and block his advance. Rafayel eases off, giving her a moment to reposition.

“Faster,” he growls, and charges at her again.

Her Highness reacts quicker than before. She crosses her arms and catches his wrist between them, trapping him in place with her dagger. When Rafayel does not break free on his own, she releases him.

“Again,” Rafayel says.

The sound of metal cutting through the air and the shallow puffs of their breaths echo throughout the tent as they perform each exercise multiple times. With limited space around them, Rafayel adjusts his maneuvers accordingly, taking care not to lead her too close to the supporting poles of the tent or the dwindling fire of the oil lamp. Their lack of armor poses another challenge. He will have to be especially careful not to injure her.

The air quickly grows warmer within the small space as a result of their spar, and the sound of their breathing grows harsher and more ragged along with it. Sweat glistens along the Princess’ brow, small strands of hair loosening around her temples and clinging to her skin.

“Your Highness is still too slow,” he says. “Each movement must be decisive and swift.”

He changes directions, aiming his dagger lower. The Princess blocks it effortlessly.

“An assassin must never hesitate.” He attacks her again. He nods in approval when she blocks him a second time. “Do not ever show an opponent mercy.” 

“Even you?” the Princess asks.

She said it so casually, her tone light-hearted, but those mere two words make Rafayel’s steps falter as if she just punched the air out of him. 

“Especially me,” he answers quietly.

They repeat the sequence several more times, settling into a familiar rhythm. Rafayel quiets his mind and wills himself to focus. Attack, block, reset. Attack, block, reset. Again and again, around and around. After the last cycle, he backs off, raising his hand to signal his retreat and taking several steps away from her. He wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve, catching his breath.

The Princess maintains their distance, holding her dagger in front of her, ready for anything. 

“Not bad,” Rafayel says. “However, Your Highness still has much to learn in the art of combat.”

He lowers his attack arm, pointing the dagger away from her. 

“A weapon must be a natural extension of one’s self,” he adds. He demonstrates by twirling his dagger, fluid and swift, seamlessly cutting through the air. “Your Highness holds a dagger like it is made of burning coals.”

She immediately tightens her grip around the hilt, wrinkling her nose in response to his teasing, but she remains firmly in place. Rafayel smiles and holds out his free hand.

“Come,” he offers. “Let me remind Your Highness how to wield it properly.”

The Princess does not hesitate: she crosses the distance between them and aims her dagger at his face with a shout. Rafayel quickly brings his own dagger up to block her, and their blades clash with a deafening, metallic clang. His smile stretches into a proper grin. 

“Good,” he says. “Your Highness has passed the second test.”

The Princess snarls, baring her teeth, and attacks him again. There is a lethal edge present in her subsequent movements that was not there before. She is faster, harsher, more decisive, and what she still lacks in finesse and experience she makes up for in sheer tenacity. Rafayel blocks and dodges, over and over, letting her maintain the offensive.

She is quickly backing him into a corner, leading him toward the other end of the tent. Rafayel moves from side to side, even more careful not to disturb their surroundings the more aggressive the Princess becomes.

Anger flashes through Her Highness’ eyes, her mouth twisting into a grimace. 

“You’re holding back,” she accuses him.

She moves to strike him. Rafayel catches both of her wrists, then resets, frowning at her in confusion. 

“Of course I am,” he replies. “This is a spar, not actual combat.”

Her scowl deepens. “I don’t care.”

“Your Highness—”

She does not let him finish, recklessly lunging at him again, her movements sloppy and unrefined. Rafayel lets out a huff as her blade comes down toward his face. He grabs her by the wrists once more and shoves her away. The Princess sways on her feet as she loses balance, but she manages to reorient herself before she falls.

Rafayel’s gaze softens as he regards her with no small amount of concern, fearing he has pushed her too far. 

“You tell me not to hesitate,” she says. “You tell me not to show you any mercy. Yet here you are—hesitating.”

She attacks him again.

“Showing me mercy.”

And again.

“Treating me like a helpless child.”

And again.

“Fight me”—and again—“like you”—and again—“mean it!”

Rafayel ducks as she slashes the dagger over the top of his head, snipping off a small lock of his hair. He sidesteps, barely managing to dodge another swing. 

He needs to put a stop to this.

No longer holding back, Rafayel moves in on her quickly, not giving her even the slightest chance to react. The Princess gasps when he disarms her, forcing her dagger out of her grasp, sending it flying and clattering to the ground. He kicks her leg out from under her, watching as she falls unceremoniously onto her backside, landing on her bedroll. 

With a frustrated growl, Her Highness wraps her legs around his and pulls him forward. Rafayel steadies himself as best as he can on the way down, but there is no use stopping it. He winces as he lands on hands and knees with a grunt, absorbing the impact, hovering over her. 

He sits up and wrestles his arms free from the Princess’ hands after she reaches out to grab him. She is bold, he will give her that, and fast. But he is still faster—and stronger.

He straddles her hips and points his dagger to her throat. The Princess seizes him by his wrists and steadies his blade, holding on so tightly her knuckles turn white. She digs her nails into his skin until it stings, making Rafayel hiss through his teeth. 

“Enough,” he grits out.

Her Highness gazes up at him with a defiant tilt of her chin, clenching her jaw from the effort of keeping him at bay.

“No.”

Despite the circumstances, Rafayel huffs out a laugh. “Even when faced with certain death, Your Highness does not surrender,” he says, each word laced with amusement. He tilts his head, curious. “That is unwise.”

A flicker of recognition crosses her gaze that gives Rafayel pause. She has looked at him that way before, whenever he would sneak into her bedchamber at night and find her with the fishtail beacon clutched tightly between her fingers. She has looked at him that way countless other times, in another life. In many other lives.

She looks at him like she remembers. 

“You would never hurt me,” she replies. “Not really.”

The certainty in her voice pains him, a familiar ache that echoes deep within his chest. Rafayel frowns as fragmented memories of many distant pasts coalesce in his mind like raindrops on glass, some indiscernible from others, overlapping moments across lifetimes. 

The God of the Sea and His bride…

Memories that occupy his dreams and every waking thought. 

…a Lemurian and the fearsome Witch of the Abyssal Rift…

Memories she will never remember. 

…an artist and his bodyguard…

Memories he can never forget. 

Rafayel wants so badly to believe that he will never hurt her, but fate has always been cruel to him, and the universe who wields it even more so. His eyes darken, clouded by the once-raging seas of Lemuria that now only thrash behind his gaze. 

“Would I not?” he asks. He lets out a low chuckle at the way she tightens her fingers around his wrists. “How can Your Highness be so certain? There is no one around to hear Your Highness’ cries for help. Even if there was…”

Rafayel pauses, searching her face, her eyes. He waits for her reaction—something, anything at all. 

“It would be too late.”

The Princess goes to speak, but the words seem to die on her lips, and she promptly snaps her mouth shut. Rafayel smirks, prepared to relish in his victory.  

But then, slowly, she loosens her hold on him, until her hands fall away entirely. 

A prolonged silence wedges uncomfortably between them, surpassed only by the wailing desert winds beyond their tent. 

“Do it, then,” she says. 

Rafayel holds her gaze. He expects her to look smug, but her expression remains deliberately neutral, a carefully constructed mask. 

“Do it,” she repeats. “Kill me.”

Rafayel keeps his hand steady, so steady that his wrist aches in protest. He very well could kill her right here and now, take back his heart, and fulfill his duty to his people—just like that. She does not realize what she is risking by offering herself to him so willingly.

Or perhaps she does.

She knows. She cannot remember, but she knows. 

She knows him. All of him. She has always known, even though she may never come to know it herself. In this moment, as Rafayel stares her down over the curved edge of his dagger, he truly believes that she does. 

He almost forgot what it is like to be known.  

But here they are once again, bound to one another in this life, and the next, and the many others that have come before. Despite everything, that has never changed. Their love is inevitable, their fate intertwined in a prophecy written in blood and stone—a fate he himself doomed them to long, long ago. 

For years beyond his comprehension, he has fought an uphill battle: desire at war with destiny, his pleasure versus his purpose, his love for her perpetually at odds with the love he holds for his people. The Sea demands a follower. Lemuria demands a sacrifice. Rafayel wonders when it will be his turn to make demands instead. 

It would be so, so easy to kill her…

She should be afraid of him.

He will teach her to be afraid.

With a wave of his hand, Rafayel extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp. The Princess lets loose a gasp as they are plunged into darkness. 

“Does Your Highness not remember our previous lessons?” 

His eyes adjust quickly. The outline of her form comes back into view, followed by her face, bathed in shadow. Before she can answer him, Rafayel lazily begins to drag the tip of his dagger down her throat. 

Though she tries to suppress it, he does not miss the subtle shift in the Princess’ expression—the way her eyes widen almost imperceptibly—nor the hitch of her breath. Her body tenses beneath him, but even so, her quiet determination remains, made evident by the firm set of her jaw and the slight crease in her brow. Her resolve will not be broken so easily.

He waits for her to stop him, to beg him to stop, to surrender. The Princess remains silent. 

“An assassin must kill quickly, before they are killed first,” he says. “As Your Highness may recall, that is what makes the throat a favorable choice. One cut…”

Rafayel turns the dagger with a flourish, holding it horizontally against her neck.

“That is all it takes.”

Her throat moves as she swallows. Rafayel watches, transfixed, as the dagger moves along with it.

He blinks. He blinks again. His mind is slipping, thoughts passing like sand through his fingers. Images flash behind his eyes of the Princess laid out beneath him, blood pooling under her body, her heart carved out of her chest yet still beating in the palm of his hand. 

Rafayel shakes his head, pushing the thoughts away, and points the sharp tip of the blade at her throat once more. Though not enough to break skin, he presses down just hard enough to leave a mark. A single line, raised and puffy against her otherwise unblemished complexion, follows his dagger from her throat to the top of her chest. 

If she feels any pain, Her Highness does not show it. Rafayel wonders just how far she will trust him to go.

He recalls a time, long before, when the artist left his mark upon her skin in a similar fashion, with red paint instead of a blade. He wants to leave his mark on her again now. 

It comes to him as easy as breathing. Rafayel turns the dagger carefully and begins to draw a familiar shape into her chest, watching the way her skin reacts the same way as before. For those precious few moments, the world around them falls away. He grows more and more mesmerized at the sight of angry welts forming the shape that mirrors his own mark—the brand on his chest that binds his soul to hers and burns whenever she speaks. 

When he finishes the final line, completing the elegant curve of a Lemurian tail, he flicks the dagger upright and roughly scrapes it against her delicate flesh. This time, he can tell it hurts from the way Her Highness’ eye twitches, but it is the only acknowledgment she deigns to give the pain. Tiny droplets of blood bloom from the small cut, trickling down her chest and disappearing underneath the scooped neckline of her tunic.

She is truly a sight to behold—her skin marked by his blade, her life in his hands. She trusts him implicitly, and it stirs something deep within him, like oil being thrown into a fire, an intense longing the likes of which he has never felt before. Heat rises steadily throughout his entire body, making the flush on his cheeks deepen and his ears burn as he averts his gaze.

Rafayel follows the blood trail with the point of his dagger. The sound of metal dragging against fabric, but not ripping, is nearly deafening. 

“Bone is a troublesome obstacle.”

His voice sounds so far away, unfamiliar even to his own ears, rough and hollow like the sea of golden sand outside blowing in the wind. He moves the dagger between her breasts, then lower, prodding at her sternum for emphasis. He watches the steady rise and fall of her chest as the Princess meticulously measures and counts each breath.

“To reach the heart,” he continues, “one must…”

He angles the dagger upward, notching it between her ribs on her left side, and points it at her heart. 

His heart. 

Rafayel narrows his eyes. He pushes her down harder into the bedroll, but still, she does not react—barely even winces. He feels dizzy and drunk, blood roaring in his ears, as if his mind is no longer his own. No matter what he does, she does not flinch. No matter what he says, she does not answer. 

The silence stretches between them, tormenting him. Mocking him. 

“Does Your Highness truly not fear death?”

Finally, the mask slips. The Princess’ gaze softens. 

“Are you afraid, Rafayel?” she asks him.

For a moment, his grip slackens around the hilt of his dagger. She is trying to disorient him. He chuckles again, a low and bitter sound. 

“There is nothing I fear,” he says. 

She frowns. “You’re lying.”

Rafayel presses the blade against her ribs. Though not strong enough to break skin, she goes tense beneath him once more.

“Everything I have ever feared has already come true.”

He lays his hand over her stomach, pointing the dagger in the direction of her womb.

“The worst nightmares that have ever haunted me, I have experienced firsthand, time and time again,” he continues, recalling every time he has loved her, lost her, never forgotten her. “But Your Highness…”

With a shake of his head, Rafayel grins. 

“Your Highness still has not answered my question.”

Beneath his palm, her heartbeat is strong, growing stronger by the second.

“No,” the Princess says. 

Rafayel looks up. “Your Highness refuses to answer?”

“No,” she repeats firmly. “As in, no, I do not fear death.”

To his surprise, she lifts her hand. He tries not to react as she draws near, but he has always been so helpless against her, and a short gasp escapes him before he can stifle it. She gently lays her hand against his cheek. Her fingers, cool once more, bring a modicum of relief to his flushed skin. Rafayel turns his face into her palm on impulse with a ragged exhale. Her touch is so tender, far more tender than he deserves.

“I do not fear death,” she says, without a single note of uncertainty in her voice, “because I do not fear you.”

There is a sinking feeling in Rafayel’s stomach, heavier than stone. He looks into her eyes, and for that moment, she is no longer a princess; she is a bride, a queen, a witch, a bodyguard, a muse, a lover…

She is everything. She is his, and he is hers. He has always been hers. 

He reaches for her in return, cradling her face so gently, almost reverently. 

“You should,” he says. His voice is quiet, choked with regret. “You really… really should.”

In the span of a single breath, the distance between them closes. Rafayel is not sure who moves first, but in the end, it simply does not matter—not when Her Highness’ lips are so soft and inviting beneath his, and the taste of honey and rosewater lingers on her tongue, and she clings to him like she has been starved, deprived, kissing him so deeply it steals the air from his lungs. 

He groans against her lips as she pulls him closer. Still holding his dagger, his dominant hand remains trapped between their bodies. The other trembles as he slides his fingers into her hair and pulls her forward.

A quiet moan vibrates in her throat. The Princess runs her hands down the length of his back and then up the sides of his shirt. Rafayel presses himself even closer, wanting to feel the entirety of her body molded against his. The single thread of self-control he has left quickly unravels into nothingness, and he struggles to hold onto a solid thought, his mind utterly consumed by her. She is so warm, trapped under his weight the way she is—so close yet still not close enough. He longs to touch her, to feel her skin against his, to watch her come undone so beautifully as he moves within her. 

Rafayel tears his lips away from hers and trails wet kisses down the side of her face instead, then along her jaw. He pulls her head to the side by her hair, groaning softly as she draws in a shaky breath in response. He sucks a greedy bruise over her hammering pulse, every beat of her heart spurring him on more and more.

The Princess’ hands continue to wander. She traces meaningless shapes against his shirt. She bunches the fabric within her grasp. Twists. Pulls. She ventures upward, threading her fingers through his hair and holding him against her, while the other hand lingers in the middle of his back. 

Rafayel pauses once he reaches her chest. The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

“If I truly am to die by your hand,” the Princess says suddenly, and Rafayel shudders at the unmistakable feeling of cold steel pressed against his spine, “your own demise will be just as swift.”

He freezes. Her Highness pushes the tip of an entirely new dagger between his vertebrae. His thighs go tense around her hips, locking them both in place. One wrong move and he will never walk again. 

Perhaps, he realizes, it is still he who should be afraid of her.

He lifts his head and stares at her in disbelief. “When did—”

She cuts him off with her laughter, clear and vibrant, giddy from her victory. Rafayel sputters, completely dumbstruck. He did not even hear her draw the weapon from its sheath, nor does he know where she even could have hidden it. The kiss was a total distraction. He cannot help but feel a little disappointed. 

But her joy is too infectious, and a smirk slowly spreads across Rafayel’s lips. “It seems I have taught Your Highness well.”

She grins back at him, eyes glittering with mischief and starlight even in the surrounding darkness. 

“An assassin must kill quickly,” she says, echoing his previous words, “before they are killed first.”

Rafayel hisses when the small blade scrapes against his skin, tearing through his shirt. Pleasure twists with pain and forces an involuntary groan out of him. 

Her Highness brings the dagger between them. It is tiny, small enough to hide in her boot or tuck into her belt. His blood glimmers at the pointed end, a single drop of crimson dipping onto the rumpled fabric of her tunic. Rafayel follows the droplet with his eyes as it falls. 

The Princess sits up slowly, making him sit up with her. His arms return to his sides, and he allows his own blade to fall from his grasp. 

“Do you trust me?” she asks him. 

The cord of restraint holding him back finally snaps, and something else inside of him withers and dies along with it. Regret. Shame. Guilt. Emotions he cannot even name, all of which no longer matter. 

None of it matters anymore. And all Rafayel can do is laugh.

“My princess,” he whispers, low and rough like gravel. He bows his head. “I am at Your Highness’ mercy.”

She places the tip of her dagger beneath his chin, lifting his gaze back to hers. 

“Rafayel.” Her voice wavers slightly as she speaks his name. “Kiss me.”

Their bond resonates from the depths of his very being, tendrils of agony that spread through his body, constricting him, punishing him for daring to ever deny himself the ecstasy of her touch. But even as he feels himself drawn to her, compelled by her, he does not need it. Not for this. Never for this.

He takes her hand and squeezes, guiding the pitiful little dagger to his chest. The blade harmoniously cuts into his palm and hers, their blood mixing together and trickling down their wrists. The Princess whimpers in pain. Rafayel leans in to kiss her again, deliberate and deep, swallowing down her cries. 

She writhes underneath him and tries to push him off her lap. When he does not budge, she draws his bottom lip in between her teeth and bites down in retaliation, soothing it afterward with her tongue. Rafayel gasps, a broken moan escaping him, pleasure coiling tightly in his gut. Letting go of her hand, he pushes her down against the bedroll once more, bending at the waist and leaning over her. A reawakened hunger flows through him, and his touch becomes frantic as he slips his hands beneath her tunic and lifts it over her head.

The Princess is beautiful. Rafayel stops to look at her, really look at her, his breath catching at the sight of her bare skin—skin that has been marked by his blade and now begs to be savored beneath his lips. He starts at her shoulder first, then moves to her neck, mouthing along the hollow of her throat. He moves lower and lower still, until he finds the trail of blood he left behind before, messily smeared across her chest. He flattens his tongue against her skin and laps up the blood with a moan like it is the sweetest ambrosia, and he relishes the pleasurable sounds that slip past her lips, the breathless way she whispers his name. 

She slides her fingers through his hair and pulls, and Rafayel groans, closing his teeth around the soft mound of her breast. He kneads the other with his hand, ignoring the stinging pain of the cut across his palm as his own blood transfers onto her skin. Her answering moan is so divine, so unguarded, that it goes straight to his cock, and the front of his pants tighten uncomfortably. 

“Rafayel,” she says again, louder than before, arching up into his eager mouth. Rafayel lifts his eyes to watch her. Hot, urgent arousal curls in his stomach at the sight of her already so lost in pleasure, with her head thrown back and hair strewn about. One hand shields her face, her index finger wedged between her teeth, dagger pointed away from her.

He finally moves off of her lap and kneels between her legs, then reaches up to pull the dagger from her grasp. The Princess gasps as Rafayel slides the tip of the blade down her stomach, creating another faint but angry line. He follows it with his lips and soothes it with more kisses.

“Up,” he says, tucking his free hand under the small of her back. 

She complies and lifts her hips. He undresses her quickly, tugging her pants and undergarments down her legs, and then reaches behind his back to pull his own shirt over his head. He lowers himself down onto his elbows and holds her gaze as he trails fleeting kisses past her navel. Her legs fall open for him, and Rafayel moans at the mere sight of her.

One hand comes to rest against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Rafayel nuzzles against her and turns to press a kiss there. She continues to play with his hair, pulling gently, nails scratching against his scalp and sending a shiver down his spine. He looks up again and slowly brings the dagger up between her legs. 

“Your Highness tricked me,” he whispers, poking her thigh with the tip of the blade.

The Princess jumps in surprise, but she laughs under her breath, and some of the tension in her body ebbs away. Her eyes soften around the edges, and her smile melts into something more serene—more sincere.

“All you ever do is hold back,” she says. Her gaze flicks between him and the dagger. “I don’t want you to hold back anymore. Not from me.”

Rafayel’s breath catches as her words settle over him. Slowly, he presses the flat edge of the blade into her thigh, then the tip. He draws swirls and shapes as he continues to transform her skin into a masterpiece of his own making. A twist of the wrist, and he guides the sharp edge along her supple skin to create a fine cut. Her Highness hisses through her teeth, muscles twitching.

Setting the dagger aside, Rafayel chases the blood as it trickles down, catching it with his lips. He breathes in the heady scent of her as he noses the wiry curls between her thighs and parts her with his fingertips. He moans at the first taste of her, the mixture of her arousal and the coppery aftertaste of her blood on his tongue nearly driving him to the brink of total oblivion. 

The Princess sighs with pleasure and tightens her fingers through his hair when she begins to move, her back bowing. Rafayel allows her to set their pace and supports her weight with his hands, following each steady, sensual roll of her hips as she chases the heat of his mouth. 

“Oh,” she breathes. “Rafayel…”

He groans when her thighs clamp around him, and he imagines himself sheathed inside her, the urge to take her stronger than before. He pushes his own hips into the bedroll in search of more friction, clinging to any sense of relief he can find, determined to taste her release before he seeks his own. 

It does not take long, wound up as she is. The Princess lets out a sharp cry, hips flexing and thighs trembling as she comes. Whispered pleas tumble from her lips that grow louder and louder as Rafayel works her through her release, licking into her relentlessly, not pulling away until she is whining in protest from the overstimulation.

“My beloved.” His voice is breathy, soft. A whisper against her thigh. “Huerte mea… vesta mea…”

She collapses against the bedroll, her body going lax. Rafayel straightens, wiping the slick off his chin with the back of his hand as he gazes down at her prone form.

He kneels between her still-trembling legs, pushing her knees even further apart, and shoves his pants down just far enough. Taking his cock into his hand, he gives himself one stroke, then another, before he carefully guides himself forward. The heat between her thighs envelops him, welcoming him, and he lets out a reflexive sigh as he sinks deeper. He bites his lip and struggles not to close his eyes, wanting to watch himself disappear into her cunt.

His mind goes blank—whiting out for one long, blissful moment—once he is fully seated. Rafayel holds himself still, so still, even though he is all but coming apart at the seams, muscles twitching restlessly in anticipation, his own need desperate to be sated.

She holds him close, arms and legs wrapped around him in a sacred geometry that makes him feel more worshiped than any other offering or prayer or devotion ever has. Rafayel leans into her, his hips nestled within the cradle of her thighs. So long as he lives, reborn anew as many times as fate demands it, nothing else will ever be able to compare. Lemuria could fall a thousand times more, damning his soul for all eternity. He will do it all over, again and again, if it means coming home to her even just one more time, saving her just one more time—

And he does not know how much longer he will be able to hold back.

Her Highness moves her hands, fingers at his sides. He shudders beneath her touch, gentle and explorative, as she traces the faint, jagged lines of old scars etched into his skin. Rafayel bends to kiss her brow, but the Princess nudges him with her nose and searches for his lips, finding them in another needy kiss.

“Rafayel,” she whimpers. She wriggles her hips beneath him, urging him to move.

He answers her with a languid thrust that has her head lolling back. 

“As my princess wishes,” he says, and then he kisses his way back down, smiling against the side of her neck.

Rafayel gives her time to adjust, moving with short, steady strokes that roll into one another before he settles into a familiar rhythm. When she begins to move with him, he pulls her even closer—lifts her legs higher along his sides so she can cross them at the middle of his back.

The Princess fucks like she fights, breathless and eager, gradually moving with more confidence than she started with. She holds onto him tightly and takes what she needs, works her hips against his with determination as they rock together. Rafayel’s entire body thrums with pleasure, a heartbeat all its own, and he wishes he could spend all of eternity in this moment, drowning in her depths. 

She sucks in air when he nips at the delicate skin below her ear. His mouth gentles in apology, his next few kisses more tender, his tongue tasting the sweat on her skin. Rafayel presses himself closer, pushes himself deeper inside on every thrust. He is unable to resist for long, catching her earlobe between his teeth, biting down once more. Her Highness runs her nails down his back, and he nearly crumbles, pleasure and pain twisting and unwinding, consuming him whole—

“Fuck,” he sighs into her neck, kissing it again. “So soft… so warm…”

Rafayel props himself up on one hand and lowers the other to where they are joined to circle his fingers over her clit. He groans at the responding clench of her cunt, and the moan she gifts him with in return makes his blood run hot as her hips arch upward into his touch. 

“Your Highness always sings so sweetly for me,” he says, an urgent need threaded through every word. “Let me hear it again.”

He gazes down at her, taken with the way her body slides up, up, up against the bedroll with every snap of his hips. Rising to his knees, he settles his free hand at her waist, holding her there as he meets her with another powerful thrust, then draws her down even harder against him.

“Please,” he rasps. “Please let me hear it again—”

The Princess keens, lashes fluttering as her eyes slip shut. Rafayel does it again, driving forward harder than the first time, and then again, determined to hear her cry his name even just one more time. He cannot look away, never wants to look away, utterly hypnotized by the way her body moves, the way the muscles in her stomach flex and flutter. 

Curious, he releases her waist, then lays his palm flat against her lower abdomen and presses down—

“Rafayel!” the Princess cries out, and his name has truly never sounded sweeter. 

He feels it when she reaches her end, wave after wave, bearing down on him and clenching rhythmically around his cock and bringing him to the very precipice of his undoing. His eyes never leave her face, watching the kaleidoscope of emotion playing out across her features as she continues to writhe, as her already bruising grip on him tightens to the point of pain.

Desperation claws at him from within. Rafayel chases after the exquisite pressure low in his belly that grows stronger with each thrust. His rhythm falters as he pushes himself to move harder, faster, no longer able to contain it. He plants his hands back on the ground on either side of her hips for leverage as he drives into her, and gods, he is close, so close, each cry that escapes her bringing him closer, closer, closer—

“Your—Your Highness,” he stammers, voice cracking around the words. He lets out a low whine. “I’m—” 

Helpless against the inevitability of his own completion, Rafayel surrenders to it—a pleasure so intense it nearly pains him, makes his limbs spasm, makes his heartbeat even more erratic. He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth, broken little sounds spilling from his lips as he spills inside her, until he has nothing more left to give.

When he opens his eyes once more, the Princess is smiling. Her gaze is serene, almost dreamlike, and for a moment Rafayel wonders if he is, in fact, dreaming. 

The world falls away. Time stands still. There is only him and her. 

Arms shaking, he nearly collapses as he lies down next to her and curls up at her side. The Princess wraps him up in her embrace and holds him close, and he burrows into the junction between her neck and shoulder. Later, he will clean their bodies and tend to their wounds, then hold her throughout the night as they sleep. But right now, he needs only this.

The softness of her voice soon draws him from his thoughts: “Rafayel?”

“Mm?”

“Do you want to know what I fear?”

Rafayel’s pulse jumps against his throat. He lifts his head from her shoulder, and she reaches for him, gently guiding his gaze to hers with a finger under his chin. She runs her thumb over his bottom lip in a way that is heartbreakingly familiar.

“I fear that one day, I will call for you,” she says, “and you will not answer.”

Guilt runs through him like an arrow to the chest. The knot in his stomach returns, now a noose.

“I fear that I will one day know a life without you in it,” she continues, dropping her voice to a whisper. “That is a fate worse than death.”

He shifts onto his side, pulling her along with him, and touches his forehead to hers. Their noses brush, and Rafayel holds her cheek as he kisses her, even though his throat feels tight and he wants to weep at the mere notion of being without her.

“I have always looked for you,” he whispers back, and though she cannot comprehend the full weight of his words, he wants her to hear them. “And I have always found you.” 

The Princess smiles again, saying nothing. Her touch is gentle against his cheeks as she brings his lips back to hers for another longer, softer kiss.

She knows. She knows, but she does not remember. Cannot remember. And for the first time across his many, many lives, Rafayel wonders if maybe it is for the best. 

But he will. And should a day ever come where he is not able to find her, he will still remember.

It will not be enough, but he will always, always remember.

[fushitoru]

back to the kittty, cause she's kinda pretty!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) bf!sukuna x reader x toji, masseuse!nanami x reader, bully!suguru x reader, childhood best friend!choso x reader, best friend!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn tropes! (part 2) inspired by this awesome post by the cool and super talented @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), sub!satoru supermacy, porn no plot, vaginal sex, doggy, fem reader, "sloppy seconds," pre-established consent for all, reader accidently eats an aphrosidiac for choso's, bullying in suguru's, oral (m and frecieving), fingering, semi-public humiliation, lowk pathetic toji, art by 3aem, nOT EDITED

a/n choso's is my favorite yet again i love a pathetic man that rails me into next tuesday <3

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ MY HOT CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND ATE SOME WEIRD CHOCOLATE AND WANTS ME TO DICK HER DOWN!

Your best friend, Choso, was lounging on his couch, flipping through different movie options on Netflix while you were in the kitchen, bending and squinting through the different options. It’s a Friday night, and the both of you opted to stay in for movie night.

“Choso!” You complained, huffing while putting your hands on your hips to shout at him in the living room. “Why do you only have fuckin protein shakes and raw chicken in your fridge?”

All you get is a noncommittal shrug while he pauses on the preview for some shonen anime. “There should be some chocolate.”

Gasping in excitement, you go back to rummaging through his fridge like a raccoon and there you find it—-a pink chocolate box titled “tabs.” Smiling to yourself in excitement, you don’t hesitate before popping on of the bars in your mouth, appreciating the cherry flavor while grabbing another one. With your mouth full, you ask, “Do you want one? These are sooo good, where'd you buy them?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just come over here, you’ve been taking too long.” He sends you a glare and motions for you to sit next to him, to which you set the chocolate back in the fridge and pad your way over to him. “I think Sukuna bought these off the internet and that they were kinda bougie.”

You look at him, slightly alarmed. “Isn’t he going to kill you?”

He looks over at you—a little softly, you note—and ruffles your hair, to your dismay. “It’s okay, I’ll buy it again for him. Gonna blame your big back ass for it being gone.”

“Die.” You stick your tongue out, crossing your arms while settling into his side. 

Choso noted that you were being a bit more cuddly than usual, touching him more as soon as you got onto the couch. He decides to ignore it. “Ok, we’re going with Spider-man, k?”

You nodded into his side—he could tell you were flushed by the way you had continued to grow warmer and warmer, with beads of sweat dotting your temple. He paid it no mind, choosing instead to click on the movie and watch it play.

You were heating up. 

You tried to ignore it, because you hadn’t felt feverish before or done anything in particular to cause you to be sick (your coffee and ramen diet had been fixed after midterms season after Choso got on your ass about it). But about 25 minutes into the movie, you couldn’t bear it anymore, your vision blurring at the edges as you mumbled, “‘ts too hot. Gonna take off my shirt.”

Choso, who had been focused on the movie, tensed and looked at you, eyes slightly widened. “Wh—” Before he could even get a word out, you stood up—eyes slightly unfocused—arching your back while grabbing the bottom hem of your t-shirt and peeling it off, causing Choso to gulp as you uncovered the swell of your breasts in your red lace bra. You went back to borrowing yourself on his side, the softness of your boobs pressing against his arm. 

Choso closed his eyes because there was nooo way he was popping a boner for his best friend. No way. As both of your eyes went back to the movie, Choso focused on reciting the Japanese National Anthem to distract himself from the soft breaths you were letting out near his ears—and the way they tickled them—as well as the rise and press of your chest against his arms as you heaved. 

You, on the other hand, did not feel relieved. At all. There was a stickiness in between your thighs that made you think your period had started, but it had ended a week ago. You were probably just ovulating. Cuddling into Choso further, you put your legs on either side of his torso, burying your face into his neck and taking a deep sniff. At this point, you ignore the movie as you tried the soothe the heat that was going through you.

“What are you doing?” Choso was ram–rod straight and turned to peer down at you incredulously while reciting in his brain, until the tiny pebbles, grow into massive boulders. 

You continued your whiffing—-he just smelled sooo good—and sobbed, “I don’t know, but it hurts.” At this point, the feeling between your thighs was unbearable. You started to subtly grind on the side of his torso, much to Choso’s surprise. “‘M sick, Cho, but I’ve been eating healthy! I promise!” you whined. “Except for the chocolate right now. It hurts!”

At that moment, he knew he fucked up.

These were the tabs chocolates Sukuna was buying for his girlfriend. The ones viral on social media for serving as aphrodisiacs.

“Fuck,” he groaned while you continued to rub yourself onto him, now fully moaning and sighing as you tried to chase relief.  “Fuck! I fucked up.”

“Choso,” you whined loudly, prompting him to leave his state of anguish to look at you worriedly. “I feel so empty.”

Choso snapped.

Bent over, face buried in a pillow on the couch, Choso rams into your creamy, wet pussy, the squelching sounds echoing across the empty apartment. Punctuating his words with a thrust, “is-” plap! “what-” plap! “you-” plap! “wanted?”

“Yes!” you squeal, body bouncing as his rough snaps of his hips jostled you around, “You’re making me feel so good, Cho!”

“Do you know how much of a tease you’ve been?” he growled, balls hitting your ass as he pulled a hand back to spank you, red handprint imprinting itself on your cheeks. He groans at the sight of him leaving his mark on you. “Gonna take my cum, right?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI AND SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ I GET MY BEST FRIEND’S SLOPPY SECONDS! (a/n lol im not gonna lie this is just me ovulating and wanting to be creampied by two men)

Whenever Toji was at Sukuna’s place, it was like you, his girlfriend, pretended he wasn’t there. Because why were you always dressed in the tiniest of shorts and a tank top that could barely even hold your tits in and keep them covered? Sometimes, Toji thought it was Sukuna’s play—dangling you in front of him like a piece of meat, reminding him what he couldn’t have. 

Sukuna and Toji did have a bit of a…competitive friendship—one of good nature, of course. Toji, nonchalant as he is, didn’t really care whether he lost or not in the little skirmishes they had, whether it be seeing who can lift the most at the gym or walk somewhere faster. But he’s definitely seen Sukuna eye his groin in a mental competition to see if he was bigger or not.

Safe to say, Sukuna relished in the win. In a sense, he was obsessed with the submission. Not that Toji could care. He didn’t care when he flaunted his girlfriend around, groping you in front of him just to make him feel jealous…right?

Because why was his dick hard, him all hot and bothered as he listens to your moans and the plap! plap! plap! and squelches of Sukuna’s dick drilling in you? You’re both in the room, and Toji’s in the living room, confused as to why the fuck Sukuna asked him to come over when you clearly had a dick appointment with him. 

“Mmm, Sukuna you’re making me feel so good!” You whine, and Toji curses, closing his eyes and cursing whatever god was out there to make him subject to such torture. In his gray sweatpants, his bulge is undeniable as he hears Sukuna pleasure you. 

Then, he hears Sukuna call out to him, jumping as the other man yells, “Yo, Toji. I know you’re out there, man. Come in!” He then laughs meanly, speeding up to silence whatever protests you were making. Toji curses once again and moves to open the door just for his eyes to widen at what he’s seeing.

There is an obscene amount of cum oozing from your hole, it looked battered and swollen from the abuse Sukuna has dealt to it. There are tears in your eyes, a pretty pout on your face as Sukuna continues to use you as your fucktoy. And Toji realizes that Sukuna is looking at him while his hips languidly gyrate into you.

 “‘kuna–” you sob, embarrassed and cheeks heating up even further as you felt Toji’s eyes rove over your form, utterly decimated by Sukuna.

But you’re interrupted out of any potential protests you can make as Sukuna smacks your ass—Toji’s eyes not missing the jiggle—as he abruptly pulls out and motions Toji to come closer. “I’m gonna let him borrow you, okay baby? You see, Toji’s kind of pathetic here. Might as well give him sloppy seconds, right?”

With that, Toji is moaning as he slowly enters you, your pussy sweetly clamping on his dick as he can literally feel Sukuna’s cum every time he thrusts. The utterly debauched feeling of his still-hot come lubricating his every thrust makes his eyes roll back, lost in the feeling of your pussy as you whimper and squeal everytime he hits your g-spot.

“Yo,” and Toji’s attention is temporarily swayed to Sukuna, who’s watching the both of you with darkened eyes, manspread in a chair. “Come inside, okay? It’s my treat.”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ DIRTY MASSEUSE GIVES HOT BABE A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE! (WITH A HAPPY ENDING)

Working in corporate was hell.

Sitting in a chair all day slaving away at spreadsheets and emails was definitely not something your younger self imagined you doing, but alas, you were only but a slave to capitalism. Even your hip flexors could feel it—they were tight, and your upper back hurt a lot.

So, here you were, in the waiting room of this bougie massage salon that you decided to treat yourself to. After all, you’ve been a good girl with your savings, making sure not to spend loads on stress-virtual-shopping so you can blow lots of bucks into this 2 hour service. The lobby is neat and glamorous, as you wait while rubbing your back. You’re currently engrossed in watching a compilation of Moo Deng videos until a deep cough interrupts you. “Miss?”

You turn to face the rich, baritone voice that’s said your name, and then suddenly reeling back. In front of you was probably one of the most handsomest men you’ve ever seen, with blond hair and sharp cut facial lines. He’s rubbing his palms together, which seem laden with oil as he looks at you plaintively. “Shall we take it to the massage room?”

“Y–yes. We can do that,” you nervously affirmed, gathering your purse and belongings to tightly follow behind him. 

When you arrive at the room, the stoic man motions for you to get changed. “Please put on a towel. We’re going to be doing a deep tissue massage, so the towel will serve as a protective measure.”

You blush at the thought of this man seeing your body covered in nothing but a towel, but follow his directions regardless, putting your belongings in a corner while you step out of the changing room and into the massage room once again. You try to preserve your modesty as best you can as you go to lie down on the table. The only things you hear from him are the clinks of bottles as he rummages through different oils, uncovering them. The smell hits you dead on, soothing your senses already with the essential oils. 

And then, his rough, big hands are on your back, pressing into your shoulder blades. You jump, like a scared deer, and he lets out a deep chuckle. “My bad. I’ll be doing your back side first.”

“Okay,” you whisper in response, already closing your eyes in bliss with the way he’s roving his thumbs over the planes of your back, pressing in deep as he works out the kinks in your back.

In one particular spot in your lower back and hips—the one that’s been hurting like a bitch because of your endless time sitting in a chair—he presses his thumbs with the exact right pressure, and you moan.

You can’t help it—the chronic back pain has always been there, but he makes it disappear with a languid movement of his fingers over your back. But he pauses slightly as soon as the whimper comes out of your mouth. “Miss, are you alright?” Flushing, you are quick to affirm. “Yes, sorry.” With a lower voice, you say, “That was, um, that was just really relieving.”

He laughs melodically and continues his ministrations, going even lower, but pausing right before putting his hands on your ass. “May I pull the towel up? Direct contact will be helpful in this region for a deep tissue massage.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly. “You can do that, you’re the professional.” He’s just doing this for massage reasons, right? With your consent, he slowly inches up your towel to uncover your bare ass to him, you clenching your thighs with the fact that he can see everything.

He then puts his hands on the fat of your ass, moving his hands in a circular motion that spreads your ass every time he moves in an outward rotation. Kento’s trying really hard to stay professional, but seeing your glistening wetness makes him groan inwardly. “Miss,” you perk up slightly as he refers to you, “I’ll continue with the deep tissue massage as requested, okay? There’s a spot that I believe really needs my attention.”

Innocently, you nod, and Kento can’t help but feel so aroused that you’re so naively believing him, letting him touch you as if it’s an appropriate part of his job. His hands inch closer and closer, and soon enough he’s fingering you while languidly licking you up.

“Does this feel good, miss?” Kento is out of breath as he nudges his nose deeper into your pussy while you’re squealing at the feeling of his fingers slamming into your g-spot, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he goes in, sucking at your clit just perfectly.

“It’s rude not to answer someone,” your masseuse gives you a slap, and quickly soothes it over. 

“‘M sorry!” you squeal, bucking your hips as soon as you feel like you’re getting closer, “It feels soo good.” With that, he pauses his ministration to give you a gentle kiss on your pussy, and the plush of his lips is enough to set you squirting, riding his face as you drench him in your juices. Safe to say, you were feeling very de-stressed.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ BEST FRIEND CATCHES HIM MASTURBATING, JOINS IN ON THE FUN!

Satoru groans, squeezing his ball at the base to avoid cumming prematurely. What he was originally doing was trying to find some porn to empty his balls to, releasing stress and gaining dopamine from masturbating. But eventually—like he’s been doing a lot these days—his fingers direct him to your Instagram profile. You, his best friend.

 Satoru does this in secret, waiting until he’s alone in his and Suguru’s apartment to go into his room, close the door, and sin by thinking of you in a way friends don’t of each other. So, he’s trying not to bust too early while he zooms in on your tits in the cute bikini picture you posted just last week, the ones he took of you. The pixels of your magnificent breasts zoom in, sweat and water glistening off of them as your bra hugs and makes them sit just right. He groans, throwing his head back as he feels his cockhead pulse again, deciding to end his edging to cum. 

In his focus on stroking his dick—the squelching and whines echoing in his room—he doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. Nor of the footsteps heading towards his door, because he moves his hand up and down, up and down, up and down until he’s so close to cumm—-

“Satoru! I got us some mochi!” You yell loudly, and Satoru screams in return, albeit for a different reason. As your head whips up to look at him, alarmed at his shout, you register that his cock and balls are out. And that, in his left hand, is a photo of you. 

You blink, and Satoru blinks back, except with a red, throbbing length in his hand. Then, slowly, you ask, “Why is my picture open, Satoru?”

Satoru swallows, already hearing funeral bells and utters out, “I—I—that was a mistake. I meant to be on Pornhub. Haha! I mean,” he continues on rambling, “why would I be looking at your picture? Obviously, my hand slipped while I was jerking off I mean—” he cuts himself off, because in his yapping, he’s failed to notice how you’ve stalked over to his bed, now straddling him while spitting on his cock.

“Fuck,” he curses, as his pupils dilate watching the thicky, frothy mix of your spit ooze down from your pursed lips onto his dick. “W–what are you—” You motion for him to stand up, orienting yourself so that your throat was hanging off the bed and you were on your back on his mattress. 

“Since you’re so desperate,” you give him a deadly sweet smile as he stands, dick above your face. You give his tip a little kiss, and he shivers. “You can fuck my throat.”

Satoru definitely takes you up on that offer.

He can’t even believe that he’s here, you deepthroating his dick so nice. “Thank you, thank you,” he whines, gyrating his hips sloppily into the tight, wet heat of your mouth as your lips suckle on him. “Needed this so, so much.” You’ve even uncovered your tits, them bouncing nicely as Satoru continuously lodges himself in your throat. “Please, please let me cum.”

You gently push against his hips, indicating you want him out of your mouth. Raspily, you wipe the trail of spit that’s left your mouth and laugh meanly and give him a deceptively sweet kiss on his balls. “You have to last at least 10 more minutes, okay?”

And Satoru can do nothing but obey you, driving himself to the hinge of climax but never over, whimpering as your mouth swallows him up. 

GETO SUGURU ⸺ BIG DICKED BULLY FUCKS CUTE ANIME GIRL INTO SUBMISSION!

Your safe haven is your library. There, the man who’s been torturing you for most of your college career, Suguru Geto, doesn’t know where you hide, nor does he frequent the place. You’re focused in on your assignments right now, having fallen behind due to Suguru’s antics of bothering you and disturbing your peace to humiliate you across campus. It’s late at night, and there’s not a lot of people to disturb you. You thought.

You’re wrenched out of your state of focus as someone harshly pulls your chair back, grabbing your chin to meet your eyes with his. Your bully, Suguru.

 You gasp in surprise as he roves his eyes over you and what you’re wearing. A short skirt, one he dare wouldn’t admit made you look cute, and a sweater. Silently, he sits down while you tremble, looking at him with shaky eyes that makes his cock swell in his pants.

He smirks. “You thought you could hide from me?” He then ticks his head towards your textbook. “Whatcha reading? Recite it to me.” 

Even though you were confused as to why he would have you do that, you hurried to do as he said. Meanwhile, his siren eyes roved over your form, choosing to settle in between your thighs.

“Schroedinger’s theory had proved classical physicists wro—-“ You’re interrupted by your own gasp, because Suguru’s laid a hand that’s gently caressing your inner thigh.

“Go on,” he purrs, getting closer and closer to the heat of your pussy.

You swallow and go on. “…had proved classical physicists wrong, showing that unexplained phenomena in spectroscopy and atoms demonstrated discrete—-“

Meanwhile, he’s inched his hand inside of your panties, softly rubbing at your clit in a manner unbecoming of the mean Suguru you know. Before you know it, your orgasm was creeping up on you, and your legs were trembling while Suguru buried his face in your neck, giving you soft kisses. 

“Cmon, you slut,” he whispered, the softness of his voice contrasting with the harshness of his words, “are you too stupid to read?”

You whimper as he delves a finger into your hole, collecting the ooze there and going back to your clit. “…atoms demonstrated discrete properties, referred to as quanta—-“ It’s with a nasty lick to the shell or your ear that you’re cumming, squealing loudly as you cream on his fingers, humiliated at the show you were forced to put on in the library.

Suguru pulls his fingers out and sucks on them languidly, looking you in the eye. “Now slut, you’re going to do that seated on my dick. Got it?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hiii pookies this was late sorry </3 but ANYWAYS im excited to write (and ride) cowboy geto and spiderman!gojo next! consider joining my kinktober taglist if you're interested <3 part 1 of this here btw

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :p

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits

[hannyoontify]

the way you said hello - kim mingyu

member | executive chef!mingyu x reader (ft. jeonghan & seungkwan)

genre | (implied) soulmates!au, meet cute, strangers to lovers au, fluff, (angst if you rlly rlly rlly squint)

word count | 2.8k

synopsis | after a disastrous blind date, the night takes an unexpected turn when the restaurant’s handsome owner, mingyu, steps in. what starts as an act of kindness quickly becomes something more as sparks fly over a chance meeting

warnings | cursing, lowk kinda suggestive if you squint, kissing, one (1) mention of a knife, mentions of mingyu having previous injuries sustained from his occupation, there is a SIGNIFICANT time skip at the end but i don't specify how much LMAO that's up to ygs discretion

notes | requested by anon! i'm so sorry if this wasn't the direction you wanted it to go in 😭 i swear i tried my best! lowk don't know if i like this or not but i really liked the bickering between oc n seunghan NOT PROOFREAD

this can be read as a stand-alone or as a sequel to this mingyu fic!

You anxiously bounced your leg under the table, gently gnawing on your bottom lip as you glanced around the fancy restaurant. Across from you, the chair in front of you had now been empty for an awfully long time now and something told you that your blind date had ditched, leaving you with the incredibly overwhelming and taxing bill.

Fuck.

You rested your head in your hands and let out a tired sigh. There was no way this was happening.

As you reached for your wallet, you flagged down a nearby waiter to ask for the bill. He nodded at your request and you let out what seemed to the umpteenth sigh of that night. While waiting for the bill to reach your table, you began rearranging the leftover peas on your porcelain plate.

“Didn’t know we had a Picasso in the house.” An unfamiliar voice remarked next to you. 

You yelped in surprise and whipped around to see a tall, handsome young man peering over your shoulder with an amused smile. He was in a black button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his prominent forearm muscles, tucked into a pair of dark trousers. “That’s very impressive… is that a self-portrait?”

You snorted in disbelief, your shoulders shaking as you let out a quiet laugh. “No, it’s supposed to be my date. Too bad they left before I could remember what they looked like.”

The mysterious man scrunched up his handsome face, as if to say ‘Ouch’. “Do you mind if I—?” He gestured towards the empty seat in front of you and you nodded.

“Go ahead. That seat’s going to be empty for the rest of the night anyways.” You let out a bitter laugh. He gave you a sympathetic smile and situated himself in front of you with an arm outstretched reaching over the table.

“Kim Mingyu. I’m the owner and executive chef of this restaurant. I received a report that there was an attractive young person who was left on their lonesome after their date mysteriously disappeared.” The man, Mingyu, tilted his head. “Didn’t think said person was going to be this attractive though.”

You blushed at his compliment as you shook his hand. “[Name]. Not sure who snitched on me, though I’m glad to have new company.”

“Are you… on your way out now? Since your date is gone?”

“Yes, I’m just waiting for the bill.”

Mingyu waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

After spilling coffee on your blouse this morning and running 30 minutes late for work, you were more than positive that the day was going to end in disaster. The disappearance of your blind date following a very long, tiring day at work only confirmed those suspicions. However, it seemed like that the goddess of luck was no longer hellbent on making your life a living disaster with the way the stranger sitting across from you managed to douse out the fire that had been burning within you for the past few hours with a single smile.

“I’m afraid I’m not. But if you feel pressured or aren’t comfortable with it, no worries!” Mingyu said lightheartedly. 

“Oh my God,” You ran a tired hand through your face and let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “You literally just saved me from having the worst day ever. I was preparing myself to break down into tears once I received the check. Thank you, I really appreciate that.”

He smiled at your words. “Of course, just doing my daily random act of kindness for a stranger. Although…” He trailed off and you quirked an inquisitive brow at him.

“Although?” You asked.

“Although… would it appall you if I said it was my way of shooting my shot?” Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. His eyes nervously darted back and forth between your face and the half-eaten plate in front of him, left by your crappy blind date who was honestly, no longer in your realm of attention. Not when Mingyu was in front of you. 

Shooting his shot? You felt your cheeks burn at a temperature similar to the candle perched on a candelabra on your table at his words and you coughed before fumbling to find the right words.

“I mean… I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Since you’re my savior tonight and all…” Your voice faltered and Mingyu beamed.

“That’s great! Here’s my business card, if you ever want to contact me.” He pulled out a crisp card and handed it to you as he got up from the chair. “Well, I must be getting on my way now. I’d love to stay and chat but I have big boss duties to do.”

Mingyu tipped an imaginary top hat towards your direction. You smiled. “It was nice meeting you, [Name].”

“It was nice meeting you too, Mingyu. I’ll contact you,” You waved his business card and he nodded.

“I’ll be looking forward to it. Bye, [Name].”

And with that he was gone, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his perfume and the fluttering of your heart.

“Just call him!!” Your best friend urged you. He was sitting on the other end of the sofa, munching on a bag of chips as he watched you metaphorically rip your hair out over the business card you received from Mingyu a week ago.

“It’s not that simple, Seungkwan! What if he hates me now because it took me so long to contact him? I bet he’s forgotten about me at this point.” You pouted and continued to stare at the worn, but still elaborate cardstock in your hands.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re overthinking this entire thing. Listen to me,” He paused to fix his posture to face you. “He gave you the business card, right?”

You nodded.

“Did he ask for your number?”

You shook your head.

“Did he receive any kind of contact information from you?”

You shook your head again.

“But he gave you his business card? [Name], he literally served you the ball on a silver platter. He’s interested in you but won’t make any moves unless you do. The ball is in your court. Take that damn ball and BOUNCE IT!” 

Seungkwan let out a frustrated yell and shoved another handful of chips into his mouth. “I swear, you have the IQ of Jeonghan’s pet rock sometimes.”

“Hey! Doljjong is very intelligent!” Your other best friend yelled from the kitchen. “He has really good hearing too, so don’t insult him like that or else you’ll be dealing with me.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes and you laughed as Jeonghan came out into the living room to give his own two cents.

“But Seungkwan’s right. The entire fate of a whole new possible relationship with this mythical Kim Mingyu—”

“HE’S REAL. I SHOOK HIS HAND.”

“—is in your hands. Don’t blow it. Or else me and Seungkwan—”

“Seungkwan and I.” You corrected him.

“—will be—Okay, fuck you, grammar police—Will be taking this matter into our own hands so we no longer have to hear your bitching and whining.”

You let out a frustrated groan and threw down the business card that’s been putting you through pain and misery through the past week.

“God, he was literally perfect. I don’t wanna blow it and—”

“That’s what they said.”

“Jeonghan, I’m going to literally throw Doljjong into the bottom of Han River and you’re going to be joining him soon after if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Seungkwan burst into laughter and watched you and Jeonghan continue to argue back and forth.

“Forget it, it’s useless talking to a person who believes that a rock can be a pet.” You got up from your spot on the couch and reached for your phone. “I’m stepping out for some air. Lock the door if you leave before I come back.”

“See ya, don’t wanna be ya!” Jeonghan yelled from the living room as you left the house and you loudly groaned.

You loved both your best friends but they sometimes drove you absolutely insane.

The sky was dark but the countless lights from the skyscrapers and streetlights illuminated the Han River, making the surface twinkle and shine under the pale moonlight.

You were sitting on a lone bench, facing the river as you mindlessly fidgeted with Mingyu’s business card. The edges were fraying from the countless amount of times you’ve handled it between your fingertips, and you traced the black lettering of Mingyu’s name with your index finger as you silently sounded out every vowel and consonant of his name.

Seungkwan’s words rang in your head. ‘He literally served you the ball on a silver platter. He’s interested in you but won’t make any moves unless you do. The ball is in your court. Take that damn ball and BOUNCE IT!��

Like a switch was suddenly flipped inside you, you reached for your phone. The screen lit up and you pulled up a new message to type in the phone number that was written on the card in your hand. 

Without a single thought, you sent,

hey! it’s [name]!

Before you could even type the first letter of your follow-up text, the status of your message changed from ‘Delivered’ to ‘Read 21:24’ and you let out a gasp.

And then the loud, shrill ringing of your ringtone cut through the peaceful night air.

You gasped louder than before after seeing the caller ID, reaching to frantically turn off the ringer before answering the phone.

“He–hello?”

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu’s voice sounded crisp and clear on the other end of the line. You couldn’t see him, but you could almost hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “You almost had me thinking that you were ghosting me or something.”

You let out an apologetic groan. “I’m so sorry, Mingyu. I got in my head and kept putting it off. I swear it wasn’t personal…” 

Mingyu’s laugh was bright. “No worries! I assumed you had your hands full. Although, I did jump a little every time I received a text from anyone from the past week.” 

“Oh, man… I feel horrible. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m telling you, don’t worry about it! Better late than never, right?” There was an awkward moment of silence before he spoke again. “What are you up to right now?”

You hummed and looked out at the tranquil water of the Han River reflecting the bright lights of the city. “Nothing much. I stepped out for a minute for some air. What about you?”

“Oh, really? I’m actually out for a walk too.” You swore you heard a second voice near you, echoing the words Mingyu was saying in your phone. “Turn around for me?”

You whipped around with the phone still pressed to your ear to see Mingyu standing behind the bench, a small smile playing on his lips. You ended the phone call.

“Mingyu?”

“‘Morning, sunshine,” He slid into the empty spot next to you and you scooched over to make more room for him. “What a way to run into the guy you’ve been ghosting, huh?”

You snorted at his greeting, ignoring the slight burn you felt in your cheeks from the nickname he had addressed you by. “I told you, it wasn’t intentional.”

Mingyu grinned. “I know. Just felt like teasing you.” 

“What are- what are you doing here though? Do you live in this area?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yeah. I moved into that apartment complex not too long ago,” He pointed to a tall building on the other side of the river. “Has a killer night view. You should come over to check it out sometime.”

You choked on your spit, resulting in you barking out a short, panicked laugh. “Do you—-do you usually say these… these things to people?”

“No, not really. I’m not usually like this,” Mingyu looked over at you with a slight tilt in his head. The night breeze brushed his bangs across his forehead and you felt your breath falter at the way the closest streetlight illuminated his honey-like, gorgeous skin.There was a particular glint in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Pardon me if this is too brazen, but I’m only like this when I feel like I’ve met the one. My soulmate.”

Your breath was caught in your throat.

“Does it… usually work?” You choked out. Your face felt incredibly hot and your clammy hands were sticking to the bench.

Mingyu turned back to face the river and your stomach did an odd flip. “I’m not sure. You tell me.”

Oh God. You thought you were melting on the spot with the way he was looking at you. Mingyu was holding eye contact with such intensity, you physically couldn’t look away. Your heart hammered wildly against your ribcage and you decided you were going to sign yourself up for the upcoming Olympics, with the way your stomach was doing flips like an Olympic gymnast. Simone Biles had nothing on whatever routine was going on inside you right now.

“… I’d give it a solid 8 out of 10.” You gave him the most nonchalant shrug you could afford, knowing that there were enough butterflies in your stomach to start a butterfly conservatory. Mingyu looked at you as if he was surprised by the score.

“Really? What would I have to do to win back the last two points?”

You gave him a pointed look, and the next words to leave your mouth almost sent you into cardiac arrest. “Hmm… live up to your words? I guess?”

And the smile Mingyu gave you in that moment was the brightest one of all. His entire being seemed to glow in ecstasy, glowing brighter than the streetlights as he looked at you with a suggestive glint in his eyes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Mingyu?” You called from the living room. Mingyu didn’t respond and the only thing you heard from the kitchen was the clattering of plates and silverware. “Babe?”

Pushing yourself off the couch with a quiet groan, you padded over to the kitchen where your fiancé was busying himself with preparing dinner. He was hunched over the counter, his hands and trusty knife busy at work as he chopped away on his chopping block. Careful not to startle him when he had a knife in his hand, you snuck your arms around Mingyu’s torso and peered over his shoulder to watch him work his magic.

“Watcha doing?” You asked sweetly. Mingyu acknowledged your presence with a short peck on your forehead.

“Hi, baby.” His voice was rough and the sound sent shivers down your spine. “Preparing to feed you. Why?”

You hummed and nuzzled your face into Mingyu’s back. He smelled like a mix of spices, sweat, and his faint woody cologne permeated your senses. “Do you think we’re soulmates?”

Mingyu set down his knife and turned around to face you, his back resting against the marble counter with his hands resting comfortably at your waist.

“What’s with the sudden question?” He quirked a well-groomed brow at you and you smiled.

“Nothing… I just read a blog about soulmates and I was curious about whether you thought they were real,” Your fingers danced along Mingyu’s strong, muscular forearms, your fingertips lightly tracing all the old scars and burn marks that signified his experience and years spent working to master his craft. You repeated your original question again. “So… do you think we’re soulmates?”

Mingyu leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I don’t think so, love. I know so.”

“Really?” Your eyes brightened at his words and he nodded.

“Mhm. I knew from the moment I saw you playing with those leftover peas on your plate that I was going to marry you,” Mingyu leaned in again, nuzzling his nose against yours. You giggled. “Sometimes, I have dreams where I knew you in another life. But those dreams felt so… real. Like they’re fragments of memories from a past I can’t recall.”

“Are we married in those dreams too?” 

“Mhm. We were happily married, just like we’re going to be.” Mingyu captured your lips with his, sighing gently as your fingers combed through his dark hair. 

“I love you, Mingyu.” You whispered against his lips, like a secret only meant for the two of you to know. Something to be taken and hidden away, kept a secret in the deepest depths of the earth. A secret so sacred, it can only be cherished in the deepest, darkest places so that no one else can know.

“I love you too, [Name],” Mingyu’s love confession was more bold. Something he uttered with purpose and intention. He wanted the entire universe to know that he was yours. His heart belonged to you. He was going to love you loudly and boldly. “I’ll love you in every universe. Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

a/n: this is a big personal FUCK YOU to writer's block AHGJSJD i somehow managed to push through and finish this 😭 (it was at 300 words when i started today) albeit it was on my phone, in the dark, at 1 in the morning BUT I FINISHED IT. n now my insomnia's back LMAOO

[cloudzoro]

Getting Caught | One Piece ♡

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Getting caught having sex with your man by one of his friends.

reaction/headcanon requests for jjk, one piece, haikyuu, fmab & death note (male & female characters) are OPEN!

masterlist | request rules

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters included: ace, crocodile, zoro

cw: dirty talk, pet names, threesome, size kink, public sex, voyeurism, big dick!zoro, possessive behaviour, Zoros one kinda made me 💦🤭🥵💫 while I was writing it

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Ace

Ace has been visiting your home a lot recently. Since the two of you started dating, he promised not to be gone too long. When you do finally get him back, you're all over him.

He's sitting on your couch while you're on his lap. You grind down against his cock, which he had pulled out of his shorts. The brim of his hat presses against the back of the sofa and prevents him from getting comfortable, so he takes it off of himself and places it on your head. The sight of you stripped naked in just his hat has him bucking his hips up into you.

“sit on my cock, pretty girl,” he says. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

You reach down and guide his cock into your hole. He helps you sink all the way down onto him, and when he finally bottoms out, you moan in his ear. He holds you still as you clench around him. He knows if you start moving now, he'll cum almost immediately.

“Please fuck me, Ace”, you whine before kissing him. He hums into your mouth and slowly ruts upwards. As soon as he moves, the door swings open. Ace is quick enough to grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around you while pulling you to his chest, blocking any possibility of whoever just walked in seeing you naked.

You look to the doorway to see Marco standing there. He seems embarrassed and as if he's trying not to laugh.

“I was just coming by to see how your reunion is going”, he says, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“It's doing fine; now beat it!” yells Ace, throwing a pillow in his direction. Marco runs, but not before yelling through the now-closed door.

“Nice hat, y/n!”

Crocodile

He has you on your back, legs pushed up to your chest as he fucks you. He's so deep inside you and so big that he attacks all your senses. You couldn't focus on anything else if you tried. You can feel his palm pressing against the tiny bulge in your stomach.

“Can you feel that baby? Feel me deep in your pussy?” his voice has you clenching around him. The room smells of smoke and sex, and it makes you so dizzy that you can barely respond to him. You let out a long whine and nod. Crocodile laughs from above you. “Can I flip you over?” he asks. You whine a yes, and he flips you onto your hands and knees.

A large, heavy hand pushes you down against the sheets. He pushes back into you and the new angle makes you scream into the fabric beneath you. Every thrust sends you forward into the mattress, and Crocodile does absolutely nothing to hide your moaning.

A few minutes later, you hear a loud banging at the door, and before either of you can move, Mihawk swings the door open as if he's completely unaware of what you are doing.

Your husband pulls you upwards so your back is against his chest and wraps his big arms around you, covering your most intimate parts. There's a beat of silence before Mihawk launches into a flustered tirade.

“You two are completely inconsiderate. Do you ever fucking shut up?” While he continues ranting, Crocodile leans down to speak in your ear.

“Look at him; he wants us so bad,” he whispers. He's not wrong if the flushed skin and raging boner are anything to go by. “Do you wanna invite him in?” he asks, paying no mind to Mihawk's scolding. When you nod, your husband drops his hands away from your chest and between your legs. Mihawk goes silent now that your body is exposed to him. “She has another hole for you,” says Crocodile, pressing his fingers against your lips. You obey his silent command and open your mouth to suck on his fingers. “y'know if you want help with that,” smirks your husband, gesturing to the tent pitched in Mihawk's trousers.

Mihawk considers the offer for a minute before approaching the bed. Crocodile lets go of your body and pushes you back down as Mihawk pulls his cock free from his trousers. You lick up the underside of his cock and then take him into your mouth, relaxing into taking as much of him as you can. You can hear verbal encouragement from both men, but you're not focusing on the words at all; you're too busy being stuffed with cock.

Zoro

Zoro can't keep his hands off of you, you've been at a bar for all of ten minutes and he's itching to pull into the nearest bathroom and fuck you stupid.

“Baby, come on,” Zoro says, pulling your back against his chest as you stand at the bar. “No one will even notice we're gone.”

Your boyfriend is impossible to resist and you let him drag you to the bathroom. He pins you against the wall, kissing you as he pulls his cock free. He holds his hand in front of your face, instructing you to spit in his palm. He uses your saliva to lube up his cock before lining himself up with your cunt and pushing in. You pull Zoro into another kiss, much nastier and messier than the last. His hips rock into you, cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Hold on to me, pretty girl”, he groans as you cling to his shoulders. He fuckss you harder, intending to make you cum as quickly as possible so he can get you home and really take his time with you. Neither of you realise that you didn't lock the door until you notice a blonde man with a familiar pair of eyebrows staring at you in shock.

“Zoro, Sanji's here,” You whine, slightly embarrassed. He knows; he heard Sanji coming in. He just doesn't care. At this point, almost nothing could stop him from making you cum.

“Let him watch. Let that shitty cook see what he'll never have” The cocky smile on his face makes your pussy drool. Zoro isn't jealous; he has no reason to be, but he has one of the nastiest possessive streaks you've ever seen in your life. “This pretty pussy is all mine, right baby?”

“uh-huh” is the only pair of syllables you can form as he fucks you so hard you fear you might crack the wall. You're not lying, though. Every part of your mind, body, and soul belongs to Zoro and vice versa. Sanji tries to focus on glaring at the swordsman, but he keeps getting distracted by your exposed skin and pretty noises.

“Cum for me” He emphasises the word ‘me’ reminding both you and Sanji that every drop of cum that leaks from your sweet pussy is his. Your body follows through on the command, shaking in his grasp as you cum. Both men stare at you in awe. Zoro cums soon after, unable to stand the way your cunt pulses around his sensitive cock any longer. “Get out of here,” Zoro growls, voice startling Sanji back to reality and he hurries off so you and Zoro can clean up in privacy.

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thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

comments and reblogs are massively appreciated ♡

[obbystars]

When Light Fades

Synopsis: To strive for immortality has severe consequences.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Reader is a subject for Urbanshade / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Experimental deaths + limbs being cut off / Takes place before the events of Pressure and leads up to it / Hadal Blacksite Lockdown event (Gunfire + death) / Cursing

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(Saw a few fics of a reader who was an experiment like Sebastian here, so I decided to cook up my own. Well- This was just gonna be an idea, but as I was making this, the update came out and I felt more inspired and decided to try my hand at how the lockdown went…kinda. I’m actually really proud of this one.)

A new subject had arrived a few days ago. They moved him right next to your cell, and he looked to be around your age. You spotted the number on his shirt. “Z-13.” He mostly minded his own business and you did as well, but it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to someone else. So finally, you tapped on the window that separated you to get his attention.

At first, he wasn’t interested in talking to you but he soon started to come around and (try to) listen to you. The window muffled your voice, and he couldn’t catch your name. You couldn’t either, so in your head, you only called him Z-13. Maybe he did the same with your own number.

It was strange. Despite the complications of communicating to each other properly, sitting by the window with him was oddly comforting. You wondered if he felt the same as he leaned on the window. To him, you were always smiling when your eyes met. It was like you weren’t bothered by the situation at all, or maybe it was a mask to hide your fear. Maybe it was meant to comfort him as you were here before him. Maybe you knew what was coming, and you wanted to tell him to not be afraid.

Z-13 sometimes spotted you in the corner of your cell with a saddened look on your face. Sometimes it looked like you were about to cry. He wondered what happened that led you here. Was it the same reason as him? Were you robbed of your future just like he was?

Eventually, you were taken out of your cell and Z-13 watched you leave but not without giving him a smile and waving to him. He slowly lifted up his hand and slightly waved as you left your cell with a few people in white lab coats who were accompanied by two guards.

You were gone for a few hours and Z-13 had almost fallen asleep until he heard a gentle knock. You still had that same smile as you looked at him. For a moment, he smiled too.

Two days after you were placed back into your cell, you began to lose your vision. It was getting dark and blurry. You couldn’t see Z-13’s face anymore. By the seventh day, your vision had completely faded. Despite this, you somehow knew when the lights were on and when they were off. It wasn’t because of the faint click you could hear sometimes, you just knew. You can even sense a few people nearby. Z-13 was among one of them and was the closest, meanwhile the others were a bit further away. You can sense one roaming the halls as well.

You can even feel Z-13’s gaze on you. You wondered if he gradually noticed your change.

You had a few more tests the week after, and by the third week, you lost all feeling in your arms and legs. You can’t move them, you can’t feel if someone had touched them, nothing. The researchers had to drag you up into a wheelchair every time they needed you for another test. They even had to feed you as you couldn’t do it yourself.

You can feel eyes on you once again. Was it Z-13 looking at you? You hear faint banging and a faint voice. He must’ve noticed how you haven’t moved at all for a few hours and was trying to get your attention. You turned your head towards the general direction of the noise, and the banging stopped. He says something, but you don’t quite understand. You wish you can hear him more clearly.

You sense a few people approaching and hear your cell door open. Their footsteps get louder and they discuss something amongst themselves. One of them is really close to you.

“Can you feel me here?” They would ask.

You shook your head.

“How about here?”

No.

“Here?”

Nothing.

You only feel cold. You feel so cold. Were you dying? Is this what death feels like?

The person stands up and steps away. You hear them exchange a few words. Another one approaches you.

“Can you see us?”

No. You suddenly hear a click.

“Can you see this light?”

You nodded. Nothing else was said as you hear them leave, though they remained outside your cell for a while before walking away. You faintly hear Z-13 call out your number, at least you think he did.

…What was your number again? Why can’t you remember…

One day, Z-13 watched them take your body and leave without much discussion. A few hours went by. Hours turned into days, then into weeks, then into months. You never returned. The room was left empty and the lights inside the cell had turned off. Soon enough, it was his turn. Seeing only a glimpse of what you had to endure, he was afraid. He didn’t know if you were in pain as you never showed it, but he saw how the light in your eyes faded.

Z-13 suffered the effects of the experiments done to him alone.

Ten long years had passed since then. Z-13’s body had reformed into a mix of an anglerfish, a blue whale, great white shark, sea snake, silver spinyfin, mantis shrimp, and an extra unknown creature. He got what Urbanshade wanted, but he was a deemed a failure because of what he became. He was able to breathe underwater just like they wanted, but he was just some thing, some monster they created. He could barely look at his own reflection.

He’d overhear a guardsman talking and an idea suddenly comes to him. Once he was in the place he needed to be, he did not hesitate to act on it. Ten long, torturous years… Maybe he could finally be free if all things go according to plan.

He pretended to fall under the effects of the anesthesia and remained still for a while until the time was right. He was left unguarded. He wakes up and cautiously checks around, spotting only one guardsman.

Swift, yet still painful. It was the least they deserved. He quickly checked their body for something, anything that could open the locked doors and finds a keycard. Perfect. He grinned, quietly “thanking” Urbanshade for increasing his rank to MR-P. He knows where those creatures are being kept in. He’ll hold onto the shotgun as well.

With the keycard, he opened and freed as many as he possibly could before the guardsmen eventually surround him. Chaos would spread around the facility rapidly as the creatures relentlessly slaughtered those who got too close, who were in the way, or who had angered them for what they did to them. For locking them up for their sick experiments.

It didn’t take long for Z-13 to be identified and tracked down by other guardsmen. Once he emerged from the water, there was already a squad ready to greet him. He growled, wanting a taste of sweet revenge. He was already aware he can pack a punch thanks to the mantis shrimp DNA.

He was suddenly hit with the flash of a bright light. He covered his eyes as he yelled in pain.

“Arghhh!! You-!!” He almost fell back but he quickly caught himself. He got a quick glimpse of the one responsible for that flash. Without hesitating, he aimed his gun to them and pulled the trigger, “Piece of shit!!”

The blood splattered onto the floor and walls. Before his eyes could fully readjust and could pull the trigger again, he felt a few bullets pierce through one of his arms and some in his shoulder. He dropped the shotgun as he fell into the water where he emerged from, immediately swimming to cover as they shot into the water. He was lucky enough they missed.

He cursed, gripping his bleeding arm. He’ll leave a trail like this. He needs to move. It was hard to understand what the guardsmen above were saying, but no doubt it was further orders to follow and hunt him down. Right, after the results of his experimentation, it was later refined into a much more desired state. Majority if not all of the guardsmen now can breathe underwater.

He huffs, making up his mind and swimming away to find a safer place and hopefully something to patch up his wounds. With his uninjured arm, he manages to punch a path through in an attempt to escape them.

He looks back occasionally and listens for anything coming before continuing to wherever the path is taking him. He finally finds an opening and cautiously emerges from the water. It was quiet, mostly. There’s some distant noises, but they don’t sound like guardsmen. Once confirming it was clear, he climbs out. He hisses again, gripping the arm that was shot.

One way would potentially lead to more company, while the other leads further into the facility. An area that’s been cleared out already, so that’s where he heads to. The halls were empty. He can’t hear anything close by. There has to be something he can use here, something they left behind. Searching through every drawer and every room he could get into, sometimes even knocking down a door, he found everything but a medical kit. He kept some of the things he found though, like another gun he found and a flashlight.

He comes across a hallway he never often passed by. There was one unlocked room and the door opens upon detecting his presence. Some of the lights were knocked out already, but the glow from the tube in the other side of the room was still on. It was another containment cell for a creature they captured, one he doesn’t remember. He crawled his way inside and the door shuts behind him. His anglerfish lure blinks on as he gently pulls on it.

On one of the desks, he spots a medical kit and wasted no time to disinfect and wrap up his wounds. Then he notices a document that was left on the desk beside it. His ear-fins twitched as he glanced to the tube then back to the document. Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he opens it. His eyes widen once he sees a picture of you inside and some information.

Z-8. [First Name] [Last Name].

A subject used for an experiment to achieve immortality with the turritopsis dohrnii, otherwise known as the immortal jellyfish, as well as regenerative abilities of an octopus. Z-8 went through a series of “deaths” to study how the resurrection worked, but it turned out to be very similar to the actual jellyfish itself. They’d cut off limbs while the subject was still awake to study the regenerative abilities, and due to their poor execution, the subject had died to blood loss during some of those procedures. Still, the limbs grew back and immortality was achieved along with the ability to swim and breathe underwater, but the form the subject’s body took was undesirable and grotesque.

He looked up at the creature in the tube as he closed the document. This thing is you. A strange mix of a jellyfish and an octopus… But you’re still alive. Your loss of sight was due to your head forming into the hood of a jellyfish, almost appearing to be a veil, and the tentacles had stretched out from beneath it. Losing the feeling of your arms and legs were due to them forming into oral arms. Your torso leading up to your neck and stopping just above your mouth before it formed the hood.

He wants to get you out, but he’ll need to get you underwater. With the way your body had morphed, it wasn’t one to traverse easily on dry land. He’ll have to carry you as long as you don’t accidentally sting him. That’ll be a serious issue.

The card he has should have clearance to release you. Considering the part of the facility he’s in, there has to be a place big enough for you. One that leads outside too. Once the tube is drained and you descend to the bottom of the tube, it opens and he catches you before you fell onto the floor. The texture of your skin now made it a bit difficult to keep a grip on you but he managed to find a way that wouldn’t allow you to slip.

It doesn’t take too long for him to find a hall with its ceiling collapsed and its floor leaving a hole that leads into the floor below. That room was filled to the brim with water, and no doubt the next few rooms were to be as well. One of those rooms has to have broken off, leaving an opening to escape the facility. He carefully sets you down into the water but gets startled when you suddenly gasp and panic, wiggling out of his grasp. This caused him to drop you and splash into the water.

“H-Hey! Wait!!” He calls.

The waters settles for a bit until it bubbled and you reemerge from the water. You didn’t exactly look up at him until you sensed his light. This was the first time he gets to talk to you without a glass between you two. With how your body is now, however, he won’t be too surprised if you lost your voice as well.

“[Name], right?”

You nodded. Part of him was relieved your memory was still intact, so he continued with a smile. One he hoped you could sense in his voice.

“I’m sure you probably know me as “Z-13.” You and I were placed in cells beside each other?”

You nodded again.

“My name is Sebastian,”

Beneath the hood, he saw you smile, “H..Hello… Sebastian,”

You still had your voice.

I don’t think you guys know how happy I am with how this turned out. I don’t know why but I do really like this one.

I might end up using this concept for an OC if I’m being honest…

[seumyo]

If ghosts were real—well, Bakugou didn’t believe in ghosts, but if they did exist—they lived in the spaces people left behind.

And you happened to have left behind too many.

It wasn’t just the obvious things. Not the clothes still folded in your drawers, untouched. Not the way your books still sat on the shelves, the spines cracked from overuse, the pages filled with notes in the margins. Not even the stupid coffee mug you always used, the one you once swore made everything taste better, still sitting exactly where you left it on the kitchen counter (because it had his and your face printed on it).

No, the spaces you left behind were quieter. More insidious.

Like the empty seat across from him at the dining table, where you used to sit, eating straight from the pot that one night because, “Why dirty another dish?”

Like the sound of the bathroom door not opening in the morning when he’s actually using the toilet—dammit, you didn’t even have the care in the world to give your boyfriend some privacy—the absence of your muttered complaints about how the water took too long to heat up.

Like the other side of the bed, cold and untouched, where he still reached out in his sleep, half expecting to find you there. Anticipating to hold you closer to him.

Grief was a strange thing to Bakugou.

It wasn’t like pain. Pain was easy. A broken rib, a busted lip, the sharp sting of impact—those things, he knew how to handle. You grit your teeth, you clench your fists, you keep moving. That was what you did. That was the kind of man he was.

But grief wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t a punch he could take and shake off. It was a weight pressing down on his chest, invisible but suffocating. It was the silence of an empty apartment. It was the echo of your voice in his head, the way his brain still filled in the blanks in conversations you should have been part of.

It was standing in the grocery store, staring at the shelf, reaching for the brand of tea you liked before stopping halfway, fingers hovering in the air, before dropping his hand back to his side.

What was the point?

He hated how much space you had taken up in his life. Hated how even in your absence, you still lingered, threading yourself through his routine, his thoughts, his goddamn muscle memory.

But more than anything, he hated how much he wanted it to stay.

Because if ghosts were real, then maybe—just maybe—you weren’t completely gone.

He hadn’t cried. Not when he first got the news. Not when he stood at the funeral, jaw locked so tight it ached. Not when he walked through your apartment alone for the first time, every corner of it filled with your presence, your things, the remnants of the life you lived.

But tonight, he was exhausted.

Physically. Mentally. It comes down on him like something tangible, something inescapable—all at once.

And for the first time in a long time, he spoke into the silence.

“…This is fucking stupid.”

His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse.

Nothing answered.

Of course, nothing answered.

Still, Bakugou exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’d be so pissed at me right now.”

The quiet stretched.

Bakugou let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tch. You always said I was too stubborn for my own good. But look at you. Still haunting me, huh?”

His eyes flickered to the couch, where you used to sit cross-legged, laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to listen to whatever bullshit he was ranting about while actually getting work done.

A strange, bittersweet feeling lodged itself in his chest.

“…You remember that time you swore up and down that ghosts were real?” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I told you you were full of shit.”

Silence.

His fingers curled into fists. “Kinda wish you were right.”

No answer. No sign. Just the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the faint buzz of the city outside the window.

But in the quiet, he thought—just for a second—he could hear it.

A breath. A whisper of movement. The sound of something shifting just out of sight.

He knew it was nothing. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

But still, Bakugou closed his eyes, exhaled, and let himself pretend.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[delugyu]

pining with a hundred hearts

summary: Confessing to you should be easy. Kai’s got his whole speech prepared, having gone over it about a million times in his head now. All he has to do now is say it exactly as rehearsed. As long as he keeps his cool and doesn’t veer off script, or say something stupid and thoughtless like—“Do you wanna hook up?” he blurts out, wide-eyed and shaking.

…Yeah. Like that.

pairings: huening kai x fem!reader

word count: 11.3k

tags: fluff, smut (mdni), friends to lovers, best friend!kai, yeonjun being a mediocre wingman and the biggest dudebro on earth, kai is a ball of anxiety, a couple religious metaphors, incredible amounts of pining

smut tags: multiple smut scenes… this is only like one step above pwp okay, switch!kai, switch!reader, dry humping, choking (m rec.), unprotected sex, oral (f rec.), car sex, sooo muchhh kissinggg, praise, spit kink kinda, handjob for a second, multiple orgasms

notes: thanks again to this anon for the idea! yes this is another best friend fic i’m sorry i can’t help that this is what calls to me. anyway i hope u luv thisssss!

Kai’s staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if he should go run and buy flowers or if that would be too corny. He examines his appearance with a critical eye, not wanting to look the slightest bit unattractive when he sees you. A small strand of hair falls into his face, and he pushes it back until he looks perfect again. He tries to imagine how he’d look with a bouquet in his hand.

“Dude, the harder you try, the worse you look.” Kai turns to Yeonjun with a frown, putting his hand back to his side and releasing the imaginary flowers. He deflates when he sees Yeonjun’s unamused expression.

“I’m not good at this stuff like you, though. I don’t know how to ask girls out,” Kai says, moving to sit beside Yeonjun on the edge of the bathtub. He brought Yeonjun here to cheer him on, not to make him feel worse about himself. Kai’s confidence is dwindling the longer he spends in Yeonjun’s presence.

Yeonjun ruffles Kai’s hair, and Kai immediately swats his hand away, scolding him for ruining the hair he had perfectly in place. Kai stretches his neck out to look at himself in the mirror again. He pouts when he sees the mess Yeonjun made.

“Just be normal. She’s your best friend, she’s not gonna bite your head off,” Yeonjun reasons.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Kai says. “Her biting my head off might actually be better. I’m scared of her rejecting me.”

Yeonjun smiles at Kai, making Kai scrunch his brows. It feels like there’s some joke he’s not in on. Before he can ask, Yeonjun’s pushing himself up and off the bathtub, stretching out his legs. Kai looks up at him, wondering how to be even half as carefree as him.

“I’m exhausted,” Yeonjun sighs, looking out the window. Kai doesn’t know what for—only twenty minutes have passed, it definitely wouldn’t be dark out yet. “Let’s just go to her place now.”

Kai’s eyes bug out. “Now?! I’m not ready!”

Yeonjun laughs, “I can promise you that she doesn’t care how you look.” He leaves the bathroom then, and Kai feels like he has no choice but to follow.

He’s so worried, he can’t stop thinking about how you might react to his confession. What if you don’t feel the same? That would crush Kai, but he would never make you feel like you have to say yes to him. He just really, really wants the feeling to be mutual.

Suddenly he’s walking outside with Yeonjun, and he knows exactly where Yeonjun plans on taking him. He recites his confession under his breath, making sure he remembers it all still. I’ve been in love with you for years, I can’t imagine my life spent beside anyone but you, and I really hope you’ll be my girlfriend. Whew, he’s still got it.

“Stop freaking out so much,” Yeonjun says from beside him, snapping Kai back to reality. He blinks at his friend, processing what he said for a few seconds.

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Yes you are, dude. You’re, like, hyperventilating next to me.”

“Oh god, I’m hyperventilating?!” There’s no way he can confess to you like this! He imagines how gross it would be for you to hear him declare his love for you through jagged breaths. He turns around abruptly, ready to walk back home.

Yeonjun stops him with a hand gripping his shirt. “No backing out,” he says, pulling Kai back to him.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Kai says, shaking his head with panicked eyes.

Yeonjun grounds Kai with his hands on his shoulders, making sure he’s looking him in the eyes. “If you don’t do this today, you never will. I’m not letting you walk away now.”

Kai sighs and drops his head in defeat. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just go.”

Time passes way too quickly, and Kai finds himself standing at your door much too soon. Yeonjun abandons him as soon as your apartment is in sight, telling Kai he’ll be waiting for his success story when he comes back. Kai’s heart is pounding. He really hopes there ends up being a success story to tell.

He’s scrambling around for the words in his brain, making sure he doesn’t choke on them as soon as you open the door. I love you, I don’t want anyone but you, please be my girlfriend—something like that. He’s in the midst of a breathing exercise to calm himself down when the door swings open. He flinches, straightening his posture and sending you a smile.

“Hi Kai,” you say, backing up so he’ll come inside. Is he shaking? It feels like he’s shaking.

“Hi. I have something to tell you.” He wants to slap himself. Why'd he say it like that?! Does he think he’s the grim reaper or something, delivering some message of death?! He sounds so ominous, you must be so scared.

“Alright, let’s go to my room then.” You don’t sound shaken at all. You must be really good at hiding that you’re scared.

When he’s sitting across from you on your bed, he can clearly feel the way his body’s shaking. He almost wants to jump off the mattress so you don’t feel the way he trembles. You’ve done this a million times before, sharing your bed and staring at each other, but it feels so different this time.

You look around the room awkwardly in the midst of Kai’s prolonged silence, then start scrolling through your phone. You’re bored—he’s boring you, he needs to get on with it, this is already going wrong.

He clears his throat, and you return your attention to him. He opens his mouth and already starts stuttering on his words. He shuts up immediately, racking his brain for his confession again, and freaking out when he can’t find it.

“Kai? What’d you wanna tell me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He just has to spit it out now. He can’t waste your time any longer. He prays the words will just find him if he opens his mouth and starts speaking.

“Do you wanna hook up with me?” he blurts out, wide-eyed and shaking.

Fear crashes upon him so fast. That’s not what he meant to say. He feels the world crumbling around him, and he prays the universe is kind enough to swallow him whole.

Your silence is horrifying him, but he can’t blame you. He should probably see himself out now. You aren’t going to want anything to do with him ever again.

“That’s what you wanted to tell me?” you ask.

Kai gulps. “Um, yes.”

You look him up and down. “You’re shaking so much.” Kai looks down at himself to check. Yep, he sure is.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Are you a virgin?” He can’t be surprised that you asked that; he’s making himself look like the biggest loser ever right now.

“No,” he answers shakily. He’s not super experienced, but he’s definitely not a virgin. He can barely stand looking at you as he waits for your answer, feeling your rejection creeping up on him.

You shrug. “Alright, we can hook up.”

Kai feels his brain start to malfunction all over again. He wasn’t expecting you to agree. You were supposed to scold him and slap him and kick him out of your apartment for asking something so heinous. He’s not sure what to do now. It’s not like he can back out of this—or like he wants to.

“So… can I kiss you?” he asks, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah.” He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his jeans before he leans in to start closing the gap between you. He lets his face hover a few inches away from yours, taking in your beauty from this close up. You’re so pretty that he already feels himself getting hard just looking at you like this. He stares at your lips, thinking about all the hours he’s spent dreaming of how they’d feel against his.

A voice in his head urges him to run away and hide. What if he’s not good enough for you? What if he doesn’t make you cum? Maybe he should just apologize for saying anything and blame it on being drunk or something.

You push forward before he can pull away, and suddenly your lips are on his and fireworks are going off everywhere. Or at least that’s how it feels, Kai doesn’t know—half of his thinking prowess is in his dick right now.

The poets were right, a kiss with your true love does feel different. This is a high Kai has never felt before, one that leaves him lightheaded and struggling to cling onto reality. God is real, the universe is good, and he’ll devote himself to worshipping you for the rest of his life.

His hands find your face with a feather-light touch, unsure how far he should go just yet. One hand tangles itself in your hair, using gentle force to press your face closer to his. He wants to feel your soul enter his body, to become so intertwined that your beings blend into one.

He grants your tongue access into his mouth as soon as he feels you licking at his lips. He has half a mind to be embarrassed by the whine he emits when you deepen the kiss, mentally scolding himself for being so pathetic. He shivers when your hands fall onto his shoulders, completely weakened by your touch. He’ll let you go as far as you want, he’ll give you the world.

You pull away to catch your breath, staring him down like you’re some hungry wolf. Kai wishes that it didn’t turn him on as much as it did. To see your eyes dark and wanting for him makes blood rush to his cock. This is something Kai’s waited years for, and it does wonders for his confidence, if only for a moment.

He drags you back to him, capturing your lips yet again. There’s more heat in his movements this time, conveying all his attraction to you through tongue and teeth. He licks into your mouth, wanting more, needing more, aching to get you delirious off his touch. His hands start moving down your body, dipping below your shirt to hold onto your bare waist. Your skin is warm and soft, and it feels like territory that Kai needs to explore.

He bites your lip and soothes the sting with a swipe of his tongue, then places another quick kiss to your lips. You look like something out of his wildest dreams, your lips wet and swollen and your eyes blown out with lust. He must not be faring any better. Your eyes dart to the bulge in his pants, and Kai feels a smidge of humiliation that you can see how he’s already fully hard. If a little bit of making out is enough to get him like this, he really has to pull himself together for when you actually touch him.

You push down on Kai’s shoulders until his back meets the mattress. He stares up at you and bites his lip, waiting for your next move. There’s a million different things you could do right now, and he thinks he’d be okay with any of them. You could throw your clothes to the floor and ride his face, you could shove his pants down his legs and tug at his cock, you could sit on his lap and just kiss him some more—hell, you could do nothing but sit there and look pretty and Kai would eventually burst.

“So what made you suddenly decide to hook up with me?” you ask while you situate yourself on his lap. He gasps as you let your hips fall into a slow grind over him. He curses the number of layers separating you two, wanting nothing more than to feel you directly. His hands fall to your thighs, gripping the soft flesh.

“I just…” It’s hard for him to find his words when he’s so focused on the sight of you on top of him. He’s fantasized about this countless times, but none of his imaginations could compare to this.

You laugh and let a hand trail up his chest, stopping at his throat to hold it in a loose grasp. He doesn’t want to be a pervert and beg for you to close your fist, but the idea of you choking him while grinding on top of him has his dick twitching in his jeans. The light pressure isn’t enough, he’d let you go all the way if you wanted.

“You just what?” you coax, smiling at him. He doesn’t know if you meant to be condescending or coddling, but either way it leaves him gripping onto your thighs a little tighter to keep his composure. His tongue is useless, no words find him when you’re toying with him like this. “Tell me, I wanna know,” you press. Kai doesn’t have it in him to create some lie on the spot.

“I-it’s kinda hard to think right now,” Kai says, hands moving up to your hips to try to urge you to move a little faster.

“I can stop, then,” you say, pausing your movements.

“No!” He presses his hips up into you and uses his hands to continue grinding you against him. You squeeze his throat at that, which only makes him whimper and buck into you harder.

“Kai,” you scold, and he finally listens and calms down. It takes a lot of willpower to lay still beneath you. You’re so tempting, he can’t help but try to relieve the strain in his pants.

“It’s just been a while, and… you’re really hot, so,” he explains as he tries to control his breathing.

You give an unsatisfied hum. “So you chose me just cause I’m hot and available?”

Kai squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain. He thinks you’re doing this on purpose. “No. You’re my best friend, and I trust you, that’s why. Please move,” he says, trying to urge your hips forward again. He’s a little surprised at how easily he can hide the fact that he was originally planning on asking you out today. Being this horny must grant him superpowers.

You sit there for a moment, pondering his words. Those ten seconds feel like torture, but you’re undoing his pants as soon as you decide his answer was satisfactory, and it makes everything worth it. You push them halfway down his thighs before tugging your own shorts off, and Kai’s hands work quickly to feel up the exposed skin.

You’re back to grinding on him, but this time less clothes separate you. It’s still far too much, though; Kai needs to feel skin on skin. His fingers pry at your panties and try to tug them off, but you swat his hands away. He looks up at you with the most pitiful look he can muster, and it only serves to make you laugh at him like he’s some handsy perv. He blushes a little, letting his hands fall back onto your thighs.

“You just can’t wait, huh?” you taunt, hands sliding up his stomach and chest until his shirt is pulled as far up as it will go. You stare at his body with a bitten lip and dark eyes, and the intensity makes Kai shudder.

“I-I can wait,” he counters, rubbing his thumbs on your skin, keeping his hands right where they are to show that he’s being good. If all you’ll give him is some grinding and heavy petting, then he’ll be happy to just shut up and take it. He needs to prove himself to you, to show you that he can be whatever you want him to be. If you want him to be quiet and lay down like a toy, he’ll be ten steps ahead of you, leaning back on the mattress waiting to be used. If you want him to throw you around and treat you like a whore, he’ll show you strength like no one else has. This is about doing everything exactly how you want.

“How cute,” you coo, letting your nails lightly rake down his torso, stopping once your fingers are at his boxers. You let your finger run over the hem teasingly, just tracing it back and forth with no care as to how much this is torturing Kai. His hips rut up without his permission, body acting on its own accord, and he’s worried for a second that you might scold him.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to apologize, but his body betrays him again. He swears he’s not intent on making himself look so pathetic and horny—this is just what you do to him.

“Do you need me now?” you ask, snapping the waistband of his boxers playfully. He whines and nods, squeezing your hips with need. “How bad?”

“So bad I could cry,” he says. You laugh, and he panics.

“Then cry.” His eyes widen. He knows you’re serious when you still your hips over him once more, crossing your arms and grinning down at him. You’re such a tease, he might just die.

“Please, please use me!” If you want him to beg, he’ll put on a whole damn show. He holds you in place above him so he can roll his hips up into yours, making sure your clit catches on the head of his cock each time. His grip is bruising, and your gasps are like music to his ears. He can’t stop now, he’s insatiable. “Hnng—I’ll cum in my boxers if you don’t let me inside you now,” he whines, giving you a particularly rough thrust.

He’s thankful that you don’t push him away again when his hands scramble to yank your panties off. He pulls them down your legs and throws them hastily somewhere off the bed. He flips the two of you over so you’re lying on the mattress, and you’re giggling at him while he loses his mind above you. He takes off the rest of his clothes as fast as he can, itching to feel your hands all over his skin.

He’s panting by the time he’s finally got his dick in his hands, stroking it and spreading his precum down his shaft. You’re way too beautiful beneath him, and the fear of not lasting long enough to make you cum is making him feel incredibly insecure. You’re way too good for him. Oh god. He has so much to prove, so much to live up to.

He tries to dive down between your legs, figuring he could at least get you to cum on his tongue to ease his worries. He’s stopped by your fist in his hair, pulling him back up before he could even get eye-level with your pussy. His fingers are quick to separate your folds then, rubbing up your slit persistently.

“Let me prepare you,” he says, moving his head down again. He only gets to nibble your thigh before you’re giggling and pulling his head away.

“I’m ready,” you insist, spreading your legs a little wider. His head spins. You’re insane. Now he’s really in danger of cumming too soon—like, before he even sticks it in. He leans his head onto your shoulder, trying to get a hold of himself. His fingers swipe rapidly at your clit, trying to get you as close to the edge as he is. He can’t embarrass himself. He has to be good for you.

Your legs shake and close over his hand, and you try tugging him by the wrist to push him away, but he’s too intent on making you cum to be deterred by that. “Fuck, Kai, stop, you’re gonna..!” Your voice is getting high-pitched and whiny, and your pleas for mercy are really only working against you; if anything, it only motivates Kai further.

“It’s okay, just let go,” he urges, watching your face to see if you’re close. Your eyebrows are upturned, eyes glazed over with lust, and suddenly you look a lot less like a hungry wolf and more like a poor little lamb. He realizes then that the most important thing in the world right now is getting you to fall apart under him.

“Ah—oh, god,” you cry, hips rolling up into his hand as he keeps his relentless pace. He watches arousal drip from your empty cunt, leaking down to the mattress, and it’s the most enticing sight Kai’s ever laid eyes on.

“Come on, cum for me. Promise to stuff you so good when you do,” Kai urges, feeling dizzy at the sight of your twitching body. You must be so close. Every part of him aches for your climax.

“Fuck, cumming..!” you gasp out, grasping onto Kai’s arm for dear life. He loves this feeling, it’s like you need him, like he saved you, like he showed you divinity. It gets too much to his head, and he knows at that moment that he just became addicted. He’ll keep searching for this high for the rest of his life.

He lets up once your body starts convulsing too hard, using his hand to gently hold your waist down instead. He looks at you like you’re something magnificent. A part of him still wonders if this is real or not, but his mind could never make up something this life-changing.

He leans down to kiss you, something deep and hungry, portraying all the need that’s nestled its way into his being. Your hands find his shoulders easily, and it feels like they were meant to be there. Kai thinks your bodies must have been made to touch each other.

You pull away from the kiss, smiling up at him like a little devil. “I thought you said you were gonna fill me up now?”

Something about you saying that makes everything seem much more real all of a sudden. Anxiety strikes its way back into Kai’s stomach, and he doesn’t know if he is greater parts fear or lust when his hand finds his dick again.

“I will,” he promises, and he prays you don’t hear the shake in his voice. He holds back a gasp when he brings his tip to your entrance. You’re soaked, and he feels the way your hole flutters pathetically for him. You need him. He almost feels possessed at the thought.

He bites his lip hard as he starts to push in. He’s trying not to get ahead of himself, but you’re so easy to get drunk in. You’re so tight, he would have stuffed you with his fingers if he’d known you’d be squeezing him like a vice.

He bottoms out with a gruff moan, holding onto your waist for dear life. He can’t believe this. He’s inside you. He’s in love with you. He’s as close to you as he could possibly be. The physical world constrains him from tying your souls together infinitely, but the intimacy of this is almost good enough.

How does he prove himself worthy for you? He feels himself getting lost more and more in a fantastical world in which you love him too, and the two of you are making love. But that’s not what this is. You just want him to fuck you.

His hands trail down to your hips, holding you still as he starts to pull out a bit. He’ll give you what you want. He’ll prove himself capable, make sure you know how well he can satisfy you. He’d spend a lifetime making you believe him if he could.

Your breath catches when Kai bottoms out again in a hard thrust. “You’re big,” you say with a little giggle, hands coming up to rest on Kai’s shoulders.

“T-thanks.” He doesn’t know if you’re laughing at his stutter or at his response, but either way it makes his face flush. He fucks into you at a steady pace now, slow enough to keep himself from cumming.

Your hand trails up to the nape of his neck to grip his hair, and it makes Kai whine. You roll your hips up into him, meeting his thrusts deliciously, tugging harder at his hair when he speeds up a little. You’re making things really hard for Kai right now. He wants to give you the best time of your life, but you keep hypnotizing him with how sexy you are.

He can’t be selfish. He brings a thumb to your clit and relishes in the way you groan out at the stimulation. “Just like that,” you praise, clutching onto him a little more desperately.

“Wanna be good for you,” he says, letting his hips buck harder against you. He’s never felt so brainless in his life; he only acts on instinct as he chases his orgasm and your own. There’s a primal urge to claim you, to paint your walls with his seed.

Your back arches up into him, like you’re presenting yourself fully to him. His free hand snakes up your shirt to find your tits, playing with them as he pleases, watching your reactions to everything. You look so overwhelmed. Your mouth hangs open with broken whines as Kai keeps stimulating you, and the sight has his stomach clenching in threat of climaxing soon.

“Kai,” you moan, accompanied by some garble of words that he can’t quite decipher. He doesn’t know if that’s because you’re unintelligible from how good you feel, or if it’s because he’s so far off in his own need to make you cum that everything else is blurred out.

Your walls start tightening around him now, and he knows you’re cumming when you throw your head back with a cry. He almost bursts inside you at that moment. He feels like something more than human, like only the most divine of beings should be able to see things like this. He burns the image in his mind.

“Where can I cum?” he asks, jackhammering into you as he chases his high. You’re whimpering from the overstimulation, but Kai thinks you can take it for just a few more moments.

“A-anywhere,” you stutter out. For the first time, Kai thinks you look breakable. He has a scary thought of wanting to ruin you.

“Inside you?” he asks, coming down to mouth at your neck. You whimper when he bottoms out again and grinds against you.

“Wherever you want,” you say.

Fuck. It’s that same second he spills inside you, almost as if your words were what allowed him to cum. He groans into your shoulder, hands squeezing at your flesh while your cunt milks him dry. He will never get closer to heaven than this.

He’s not sure how many minutes have passed by the time he’s picking himself back up, hovering over you, still sheathed inside your walls. All he knows is that you look even more beautiful now than you have before, and the urge to confess his love to you falls over him once again.

“Is this gonna change things?” Kai asks. He hopes you say yes. He hopes he made you see him in a new light, that you suddenly realized he’s the man of your dreams and you need him to be with you forever.

“No,” you answer, running your fingers through his hair. “But we probably will fuck again. That was mind-blowing.”

Kai’s still a little too hazy to process that. “Alright,” he says. He collapses back down on you, figuring he would take advantage of the moment and hold you like this a little longer.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Admittedly, Kai didn’t think this through very well. He’s pacing around his bedroom, going on and on to Yeonjun about how much he messed up and how scared he is to see you again. Yeonjun lays on Kai’s bed, much more relaxed than Kai is.

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” Yeonjun says. Kai can’t believe how he can be so casual about this. “You can still tell her how you feel.”

“No I can’t! I should have told her before we had sex, this is a nightmare!” Kai holds his head in his hands, trying to keep it from exploding. The amount of stress he feels right now is probably enough to guarantee him heart problems later in life.

“She won’t care, dude. Just tell her you choked,” Yeonjun reassures. It does very little to comfort Kai, though.

“I’m not gonna tell her. I don’t think I can.”

“Yes you can. If you don’t tell her, I’ll ask her out myself.” Kai’s not sure if Yeonjun’s threat is legit, but it strikes a bit of fear in his heart anyway.

“I’ll tell her in, like, a month. That’s enough time, right?”

“Why not tomorrow?” Yeonjun counters.

“Are you crazy?! We had sex two days ago! If I tell her tomorrow, I’m gonna look pussy-whipped!”

Yeonjun laughs, “Well…”

Kai rolls his eyes. “Shut up. I’m not telling her until next month.”

“You’re just gonna push that date back over and over again. Get it over with sooner, that way you don’t have to worry about it all the time,” Yeonjun explains.

“You don’t get it. This is hard for me. Have you even been in love before?” Kai asks, pausing in front of the bed so he can look Yeonjun in the eye when he answers.

“I guess not,” Yeonjun says, shrugging like he doesn’t see how that would matter. “You know I give good advice about dating, though. I can look at it objectively because I’ve never been in love.”

Kai doesn’t have a response to that—not because Yeonjun’s right, but because he thinks Yeonjun’s reasoning is so ridiculous. Yeonjun doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel even a quarter of the yearning Kai holds for you. He doesn’t know a fraction of the fear of losing you.

Yeonjun starts up again, “You’re seeing her tomorrow anyway, so you might as well.”

Kai shakes his head. “I can’t. I can barely handle seeing her tomorrow as is.”

Yeonjun sits up, clearly taking the conversation more seriously now. “Why though? You act like you’re so doomed, but I guarantee you that hooking up once isn’t something to cry about.”

“That’s the problem, it wasn’t just a hook up for me. I will never be the fucking same again. I literally can’t move on.” Mild irritation laces all of Kai’s words.

“Then take a step back and chill out. The more you stress about this, the worse you’re going to make things,” Yeonjun says. He still sounds so unphased about it all. Kai wishes he could make him see how pressing this really is, how this actually feels like life or death for him.

“How am I gonna take a step back when I see her and talk to her all the time?” Kai asks. That’s just scratching the surface; he doesn’t even mention how his every thought goes back to you, how everything in the world reminds him of you one way or another. His devotion toward you feels like it’s embedded in his bones, like it’s part of his wiring. There is no him without an undying love for you—the two cannot be separated.

“I don’t know, dude. I don’t wanna sound like a dick, but if you don’t want my help, figure it out on your own,” Yeonjun says, exhausted.

Equally exhausted, Kai sinks down the wall until he’s sat on the floor. “Let’s just stop talking about this for now,” Kai sighs out.

It’s quiet in the room for a minute as the tension slowly dissipates. Then, Yeonjun chimes in again with a five-star idea: “Wanna get drinks?”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Kai thought he’d be too scared to see you today, but he proves himself to be horribly wrong. As soon as you call him telling him to come over, the only anxiety he feels is in the form of antsiness to see you again. He doesn’t waste a second before driving to your apartment. He could walk, but that would just be more time lost.

He realizes the moment he walks into your bedroom that maybe he shouldn’t have been so careless before coming here.

Your eyes fall to his shirt. “Is that One Direction?”

“No.” He looks down at his shirt only to see the five boy band members staring back at him. He looks back at you, hopefully concealing the fear he feels from his face. “Yes.”

You laugh. Oh god, do you think he’s a loser?

“It’s my sister’s shirt,” he explains quickly. “It was too big for her, so she gave it to me.”

“Please go out in public wearing that,” you say. “I’ll literally treat you to lunch right now.”

Kai feels his face flushing in embarrassment. “I don’t even like One Direction!”

“You do now! I think I’m in the mood for a discography dive, actually,” you laugh. Kai hides his face in his hands as he trudges his way over to you, falling backward onto your bed. He feels your hand run through his hair as your laughter dies down.

“Do you have any of my sweatshirts here?” Kai asks, even though he knows you do.

“Nooooo, I don’t want you taking those from me,” you whine.

“You’ll get it back, I just don’t want to go out like this.” You pout at him before getting up and rummaging through your closet. You throw a sweatshirt at him when you find one, and Kai is quick to throw it on once it lands in his lap.

“It feels like a crime for you to be covering them up,” you say, brushing your hand over where One Direction’s faces once were.

“It would feel like more of a crime letting people think I’m a modern-day Directioner.” Kai relishes in the way you laugh at that.

“You’d be such a Niall girl,” you say with an amused glint in your eye.

“I don’t even know which one Niall is.”

“He’s”—

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” he cuts you off.

“Fine. No one ever wants to talk One Direction with me anyway.”

Kai laughs, and he’s a little starstruck by how pretty you look when you smile at him like this. “Where do you wanna go today?” he asks, changing the conversation.

You shrug. “We can just drive to the city and see what’s around,” you offer.

“Do you wanna just head out now then?”

“Let me get ready and then we can,” you say, getting off the bed.

It’s a miracle how normal Kai’s been able to act so far. He still looks away when you change your clothes, wanting to be respectful, but he wonders if there’s even a point to it anymore. His face heats up when he thinks about how you said you’ll probably have sex with him again.

Yeonjun’s words from yesterday come back to Kai, how he seemed so confident that Kai should confess to you today. For a second, he considers it. Yeonjun’s so much better with girls than Kai is, it would probably be stupid to not take his advice. But then Kai remembers that there’s no stakes when Yeonjun talks to girls; he doesn’t go after his best friend like Kai does, he goes after random girls at random parties that he’ll never see again.

For Kai’s own good, and for the sake of your friendship, he can’t tell you today. Even if it means swallowing down his compliments when you come to him all ready to go. Even if it means staying silent while being at risk of going into cardiac arrest, heart beating rapidly from how pretty you look in the passenger seat of his car.

Kai makes the mistake of letting you control the music on the ride there. He conveys his disappointment with a single glance to you when he hears you play What Makes You Beautiful. You’re grinning so hard that your cheeks must hurt, but your joy is contagious, and Kai finds himself smiling against his will.

“What? It’s your favorite band!” you tease. You turn up the volume as the chorus hits, singing the lyrics to him. Kai can’t help but laugh. He might have to buy a hundred more stupid t-shirts if this is what he’ll get every time.

Once you arrive downtown, Kai walks with you as you look for an intriguing store. He usually lets you pick out what shops you enter, but he catches sight of a building that calls out to him. “Let’s go here,” Kai suggests, motioning toward the sign on the store.

“Palm reading? Since when did you get so spiritual?” you ask.

Kai looks at you for a second, admiring your smile. “I just think it might be fun,” he says. “You don’t like it?”

You shrug. “I’m just not super into it. I’m down to watch you get your palm read, though.”

The shop is typical for a spirituality store—there’s crystals, tarot cards, incense, and everything else Kai usually sees at these places. He walks to the woman managing the register at the back, eyeing the board behind her that displays their services.

“Oh wow, they do mediumship here,” you say quietly as you follow behind Kai. “What the hell is an aura reading?” There’s a bit of amusement in your voice, and Kai hopes the worker doesn’t hear you.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done those,” he whispers back to you. He smiles when the woman behind the counter comes up to him, greeting her quietly.

“How can I help you?” she asks.

“Could we do one of those palm readings?” Kai says, pointing up at the text on the board describing the palm reading service.

“Just that? Would you like me to look at anything else?”

“Just the palm reading,” Kai answers. The woman calls out another worker to watch the store, then directs you and Kai to a room at the back.

“Oh, this room is tiny. It’s like a closet,” you say with a laugh, and Kai hopes the woman knows that you say this with no malice. She motions for the two of you to take a seat at the small table in the room. The chairs aren’t very comfortable—they’re pretty hard, and they squeak when you both sit in them, but Kai thinks of it as another charm to the place.

There’s a lot of unlit candles in the room, and the light instead comes from a lamp that stands in the corner of the room, casting the room in a yellowish glow. Spiritual posters line the walls, as well as shelves that hold huge crystals and other trinkets Kai doesn’t quite recognize. He looks to you for a second, to which you return his glance with a smile and a raise of your brows. His heart races a little, sickly sweet feelings for you rising in his stomach.

“Would you hold out your hands?” the woman says, and Kai immediately places his hands palm-up on top of the table. He suddenly feels nervous, as if he’s baring something as sacred as his soul rather than just his skin.

He’s not sure what he wants to hear today. He hasn’t done anything like this before, but the worker seems nice enough. Kai doesn’t know how to tell if someone is the real deal or not when it comes to spiritual stuff, but he trusts this woman’s vibes. She’s funky, in a good way.

He wonders if palm readings can say anything about love. With you right here, perhaps it’s better if he doesn’t ask.

The worker hums as she assesses Kai’s hands. He can feel them starting to get clammy from the nerves, antsy to just hear whatever she has to say. He hopes he doesn’t have bad fortunes.

The woman rests her thumb over a deep line that runs across Kai’s palm. “Your life line is very pronounced.”

Kai blinks at her. “What does that mean?”

She runs her finger over the full line. “It’s a long, deep line. Usually that means you’re energetic, and you’ll have a successful life. You might be good at sports too.”

You laugh beside him, and if his hands weren’t busy getting read by this lady he would’ve used them to shove you. “Please don’t mind her,” he says, feeling his face heat up.

“There’s just the capacity for you to be good at sports. And it doesn’t have to be a very physical sport,” she continues. Great—your laughter made the palm reader start scrambling for an explanation. She thinks he’s unathletic now.

“I am good at sports,” Kai says, feeling like he has to prove himself. “I like working out.”

“Yesss, and he loves bowling,” you add.

“What? She just made that up,” Kai defends. “I don’t like bowling.”

“He was a pro bowler in high school.”

“No. You’re a pro liar.” Kai is also failing to see why you find it important to sell this lie to the palm reader. He’s lucky enough that the reader doesn’t seem to pay any mind to your antics.

“You seem to have a lot of emotions,” she says, finger lying on one of the other prominent lines in Kai’s palm. He sees you smirking in his peripheral, and he tries his very best to ignore it. “Do you usually repress what you feel?”

Oh gosh. He makes a point to not look at you, but the first thing he thinks of is how he’s been holding in his feelings for you for years. He’s been bottling that up for a while—a lot of other emotions, too, but namely that one.

“Sometimes, yeah,” he answers with a nod, hoping his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

“All the time,” you correct. “He rarely opens up.”

The palm reader hums in acknowledgement. “I can see that. You might want to work on expressing your emotions more. It’s not good to let everything sit in your body.” She looks him dead in the eye to make her point. Kai nods and gulps, feeling a little intimidated.

The reader releases Kai’s hands and turns her face to you. “Would you like a reading?” she asks. You wave your hand in denial.

“I’m alright, thank you. Hey, you got him dead on, though. Congrats,” you say, smiling at the lady and getting out of your chair.

“Thank you,” Kai says, fishing his wallet from his pants. “How much is this?”

“Ten dollars,” the woman answers, taking the cash from Kai when he hands it to her. He runs over to where you stand at the door, waiting for him with a smile. The moment the two of you step foot out of the building, you’re already going on about how fake and scammy this gig is.

“That lady was so full of shit. I could probably do this job. It was actually meant for me cause I love to lie,” you say. You stop walking and turn to face Kai. “Here, give me your hand.”

He hesitates for a second and braces himself for whatever insane story you’re about to come up with.

“Oh yeah, fingertips of a bowler,” you start. You cackle when Kai immediately tries yanking his hand from yours at that, but you keep a solid grip on his wrist. You trace over a line in his palm. “This one means you like long walks on the beach. And this one means you want to go back to the car and give me head.”

His interest is piqued. “For real?”

You drop his hand. “Yeah, says exactly that. That’ll be ten bucks.”

“I can think of a better way to pay you,” he says, unable to contain his grin. He takes your hand and speeds to his car. He doesn’t really care how desperate it makes him look. You’re giggling the whole way there, and the noise just goes straight to his cock. Maybe he is pussy-whipped.

He urges you into the backseat as soon as you make it to the car, getting in behind you and slamming the door shut, too eager to get his hands on you. Your smile doesn’t leave your face when he leans in to kiss you, but that doesn’t stop him at all. He cradles your jaw in his hand, keeping your face connected to his as he works his lips against yours.

“Hope no one catches us,” you giggle, only pulling away long enough to say that before being taken by Kai’s kiss again. Kai doesn’t let your words get to him; he’s too horny to think about anything besides boning you anyway.

Kai hovers over you, and there’s not much space in the backseat of his car, but he’ll sure as hell make it work if it means getting his face between your thighs. He wastes no time pulling down your jeans and your panties, yanking off your top and bra too so that you lay fully nude beneath him.

His eyes scan your body hungrily, taking in your skin at its most vulnerable. “You’re pretty,” he says as his hands find your tits, squeezing them and listening to you sigh at the feeling.

“J-just pretty?” you tease.

“And sexy,” Kai says, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it until he hears you whimper. “And so gorgeous,” he adds before moving to your other nipple. He’s greedy—he wants all your pleasure to be his own, for you to only associate sex and satisfaction with him.

You gasp and arch into him. Kai catches your movement, holding your back to keep you pressed close to him as he continues showing you how beautiful he thinks you are. He could spend lifetimes doing this. He was made to worship you.

Your hand curls in his hair, and Kai wonders if you could cum like this, just from some nipple stimulation. With the way you’re panting and moaning into the air, he thinks you might. He’ll have to try that someday. Today, it’s not enough. Today, he craves you more carnally. He starts dragging his lips down your body, trying not to smile in satisfaction when your breath hitches.

He brings his head between your legs, staring at you with intensity blazing in his eyes. He wonders if your skin is buzzing too. He wonders if you’ve never felt more alive than now, just like him.

“Can I?” he asks, gently maneuvering your legs to rest over his shoulders.

You lean up on your elbows to watch. “Mhm,” you hum with a small smile.

He can’t be bothered to tease you—it would probably be more torturous for him than you, anyway. He dives in right away, bringing his tongue to your folds and tightening his hold on your thighs. He can’t count how many times he’s jerked off to the thought of this. He doesn’t even care that he’s cramped in the tight space of his car, all he cares about is that he finally knows how you taste.

His tongue swirls at your clit, gliding along the bud with determination. He’s dying to feel your legs clamp around his head. He wants to be suffocating, to feel the air slowly leave him as he laps at your pussy. He grunts against you, moving down to tongue at your entrance.

He presses his face further into you, aching to get closer than what’s physically possible. He curls his tongue up inside you, huffing out a laugh when your thighs jolt at the sensation. He repeats the motion until he hears your moans get high-pitched and breathy, and he feels like he’s on top of the world. Nothing could be better than this.

Your hands grab at his hair, desperate and shaking and so needy, and he can’t help but feel the urge to take care of you. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?” you ask, sounding all worked up. Kai thinks it’s very cute. He doesn’t answer, of course—he’s a little preoccupied.

Your words motivate him to go further, lapping at you with more fervor. His brain turns to mush, reduced to primal instinct that begs you to cum all over his tongue. He grips onto you tighter when your hips start running away, not letting you escape him. You whine out as he mouths at your pussy; it’s filthy and messy, but Kai couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to have you.

“Kai—Kai! Like that, shit, you’re so fucking good.” Your legs start closing around his head, and Kai thanks the universe for putting him in this position. You twitch and gasp as you get closer and closer to your climax, hands tightening in Kai’s hair.

He’s feral now, and his vision might be blacking out, but he fucking loves this. He doesn’t stop or slow down, and the payoff comes in the form of his name tumbling from your lips as you finally cum. He can’t get enough, continuing to lap at you even as you try to tug him away.

“I’m sensitive!” you yelp when he comes up to your clit, taking it between his lips and sucking until you cry. He doesn’t do it to be mean, he’s just so crazy about you. He wants you to cum over and over again, but you keep trying to pull him away, so he finally lets up.

He comes up to you for a kiss, taking your hand to hold it as he pants into your mouth. He doesn’t care about catching his breath. He doesn’t want to waste time on insignificant things like taking in air. He only wants to breathe you in, to be overwhelmed with the way you take over his senses.

Your free hand clumsily tries to push his pants down, and he resorts to helping you out after a few failed attempts. He doesn’t separate from the kiss for a second as he gets his cock out, lining it up to your entrance needily. He pumps his shaft in his hand as he sticks his tip in, eating up your moans as they pass from your mouth into his.

Maybe he’s too in his head, but this feels like more than sex between two friends. This feels too transformative to be anything casual. He pushes in further, breaking from the kiss to watch your face as he bottoms out. He brushes your hair back, then lets his hand rest on your cheek. His thumb rests over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You have beautiful lips.

He pushes his thumb into your mouth the same moment he starts thrusting inside you. He feels the vibrations of your moans as he fucks into you, groaning at the way you clench around him.

“You take me so well,” Kai grunts out, pushing his thumb down on your tongue so your mouth opens up. You look like a wet dream. He brings his other hand to your breasts, playing with your nipples. You mewl, and he finally takes his thumb from your mouth so he can kiss you again.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel ready to burst. He pinches your clit, trying to bring you to the edge with him. You tug his hair, pulling his face away so you can stare into his eyes as you get closer to cumming.

“Cum inside me,” you urge, sliding your hand down from his hair to his neck. You hold his throat in a possessive grasp, and Kai almost sees God in that moment. His hips buck into you faster, motivated by your fingers slowly tightening around him.

Kai bottoms out and bursts inside you with a moan, letting your walls squeeze around him and milk his cock. He moves his fingers over your clit rapidly until he feels you convulsing around his shaft; his head spins from both the noises you make as you orgasm and your hand around his neck.

You finally let go, and Kai gasps for air, leaning his head down into your shoulder as he rides out the last of your highs. He runs his hands all over your body, cherishing the feel of your bare flesh. He licks the skin at your neck and shoulder mindlessly, still foggy from how turned on he is.

He pulls out after a minute, pulling his head from your shoulder so he can watch the way his cum drips out of you. He grins at the sight, and he knows it’s perverted and gross, but he loves the way it spills out. He can’t have his cum dripping onto his car seats, though, so he has to put your panties back on and make sure your cunt keeps it all in.

“How you feeling?” you ask, still laying down and catching your breath.

“Good. That was so good,” Kai breathes out, staring at your lips, then your eyes.

You smile at him. “Is that all you want to say?” you ask.

No, it’s not. He wants to say he loves you. He wants to say that this means more to him than you know. He wants your lips beyond these slivers of moments, he wants your body beyond these hookups. Do you know that? Do you know he wants to say all that?

He grabs your hand and laces his fingers between yours. The lines embedded in his palms spell out a path that was fated for loving you. He’s more sure of this now than ever before. There’s his answer.

“That’s all,” Kai says.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

“I don’t get it,” Yeonjun says. “Why’d you hook up with her again if it fucked you up so bad last time?”

Kai sighs, “Cause I’m stupid. I don’t know.”

Kai’s not sure how debriefing with Yeonjun after hanging out with you became such common practice, but it at least offers him some sort of reprieve from suffering alone. Now he doesn’t have to mope around crying about his lost chances with you. They’re sitting in Yeonjun’s car in the corner of some parking lot, since Yeonjun didn’t want to just hang out at Kai’s place again.

“Are you ever gonna confess?” Yeonjun asks. He sounds like he lost hope in Kai.

“Yes, I am,” Kai says, not knowing how to bare himself to Yeonjun like this. “Just not yet.”

“Mhm,” he gives an unconvincing hum.

“I am,” Kai insists.

“When? Ten years from now, when she’s already settled down without you?” That pisses Kai off a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Yeonjun continues, “Listen, dude. For your own sake—and for mine, at this point—just tell her you love her. And not in a month. Tell her today.”

“I’m not seeing her today,” Kai reasons.

Yeonjun puts the car in drive. “Yes you are.”

“Oh my god, you’re not taking me to her place,” Kai says, but Yeonjun’s already pulling out of the parking lot and heading out. Kai’s eyes go wide. “You’re not.”

“I am.” What the hell?! Kai’s not ready for this! You don’t even know he’s coming over!

“I don’t know what to say!” he exclaims, starting to panic.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yeonjun says.

“I just saw her yesterday! You’re making me look desperate!”

“You are desperate,” Yeonjun laughs. Kai doesn’t find it funny. Kai can’t really find anything funny right now.

“I can’t do it. I’m not doing it.”

Yeonjun doesn’t even respond; he just keeps his eyes on the road and continues on the route to your apartment. Kai’s getting flashbacks to when he first tried confessing to you. That was around a week ago now, and look where that attempt got him. He's more pathetic than he was before.

Of course he wants to tell you how he feels. It’s not like Kai wants to be such a coward about this, but the fear of you rejecting him and scaring you off forever is mortifying. Yeonjun doesn’t understand how paralyzing that idea is. There would be no kind of hurt stronger than the one of you turning Kai away. He knows he can’t make you love him, and while he would simply die to have his feelings be reciprocated, he can’t force it onto you.

Yeonjun’s approaching your street now, and Kai has never felt closer to death in his life. There’s no chance he’s getting out of Yeonjun’s car. He’ll rot away here in the passenger seat before he confesses to you.

Yeonjun turns to Kai when he parks by your apartment complex. He raises an eyebrow when Kai doesn’t make a move to get out of the car.

“I’m too scared. I can’t,” Kai says, sounding completely sure of this.

Yeonjun’s quiet for a few seconds, pursing his lips in thought as he decides on what to say. “How much do you love her?” he asks.

This is a stupid question. “You know how much. It kills me how much.”

“So act like it. Pick yourself up and go to her like a man. Quit ruining your own life—she’s not gonna want some bum who can’t even work up enough courage to say he loves her,” Yeonjun says, and his words are harsh, but they strike some kind of determination in Kai. “Dude, I don’t know any guy who deserves her more than you. You’re the best. I mean it. You gotta go get her.”

Kai’s palms are sweating and his heart is racing, but there’s a fire lit beneath him now. Yeonjun’s right. Even if it’s the end of all things, Kai has to tell you his feelings.

Yeonjun continues, “Do it. It’s not as bad as you think. You have to do it.”

Kai finally opens the car door, and he can feel the adrenaline rushing through his body. “I’m gonna call you later,” Kai says before shutting the door. He hears Yeonjun cheer him on as he walks off, letting his feet lead him to your door.

It all feels too familiar when Kai’s standing at your doorstep. He has no script this time. He couldn’t begin to try and conjure one up—his nerves are making him jittery and scatterbrained. There’s no backing out this time. Yeonjun’s words ring in Kai’s mind. He has to do it.

“Oh, hey,” you say when you open the door. Kai steps inside and gathers his breath. “Did something happen?” you ask.

You stare at him with concern, and he figures it must be because he’s visibly anxious. He tries to get himself together, straightening his posture and breathing slower.

“No, not really,” he answers.

“You look like you’re ready to pass out.” You glance at your living room. “Did you want to sit down?”

“No,” he says, then musters up whatever courage he has to grab your hands. He clutches onto them desperately, as if you ground him, as if you remind him to be brave. “I just want to tell you something.”

Your eyes dart between his like you’re trying to find his words before he can say them. “What is it?” you ask.

Kai’s whole world has been building up to this moment. It’s finally time. He breaks the dam open, letting his vulnerability loose.

“I love you.” His heart hammers against his chest.

“I know,” you say.

“No, like—I love you,” he emphasizes, squeezing your hands.

You smile. It’s breathtaking. “I know. Yeonjun told me.”

Yeonjun—what?!

“Are you kidding me?!” Kai forgets everything else he wanted to say in his horror. That fucking asshole, he’s dead! Kai can’t believe this! He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised; this is such a Yeonjun thing to do. “When did he tell you?!”

You laugh like this is all so funny, meanwhile Kai’s world is crumbling down. “The day before we first hooked up,” you answer.

No fucking way.

“You knew this whole time?” Kai asks.

“Yup,” you confirm.

“Why did he tell you?”

“In case you pussied out. Which you did,” you answer. “And because he knew I’m in love with you too.”

Kai doesn’t quite process what he heard. “Huh?”

You grin and roll your eyes, and then you’re pulling Kai’s face in so you can kiss him. His head spins. He’ll wake up any second now. Your lips feel very real, though, and far beyond what his dreams could conjure up. They’re soft and sweet and just as delicious as he remembers.

You pull away. “I love you too,” you say. “You should be my boyfriend.”

Kai’s in disbelief. You love him—the words echo in his mind on a constant loop. He can’t think about anything else; all he can do is pull you back in for another kiss and make it count. This is your first kiss officially together, after all.

“You should’ve asked me before,” Kai breathes out, holding your face dearly. “You knew I would’ve said yes.”

You giggle, “I like the chase.”

The world around him fades away as Kai devotes his full attention to you. Nothing else in the universe could mean more than this moment. You drag him to your bedroom, and he follows eagerly, grinning victoriously the whole time.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to finally say it,” you tease as you push him onto your bed, straddling him and resting your hands on his chest. “Or that I had to hear it from Yeonjun first, a week before I heard it from you.”

“He fucking sucks for that,” Kai says with a little laugh. He holds no real malice toward Yeonjun, but he will definitely be having a word with him later. Honestly, Kai couldn’t even be mad if he tried right now. With you smiling like this on top of him and Kai finally being able to call you his, nothing could bring him down.

You bring Kai’s face to yours for a quick kiss, then you pull away to throw off your shirt. “Let’s make it feel like the first time,” you say, lifting off of him to take off your bottoms.

“It always does with you,” Kai says sweetly as he pulls his own pants and boxers down. You spit in your hand and bring it to his cock, pumping him quickly to get him fully hard. You bite your lip as you twist your hand over him, earning a choked out moan from Kai. He brings his hand to your folds, rubbing at your slit with just as much fervor.

“Do you want me to ride you?” you ask, a little out of breath from Kai’s hands on you. His head nearly explodes at the thought of you riding him. He wants you to do whatever you want. He wants you to use his dick to make yourself cum ten times over, if that’s what you’d like.

“Yeah, fuck, come fuck me,” Kai begs just as breathlessly. He places his hands on your hips while you position his tip to your entrance. You have fun with it, sliding the head of his cock through your folds until Kai starts whining.

You grab his face so he’ll look at you when you start sinking down on him, and the eye contact is so intense, but Kai doesn’t dare look away. He lets you dip two fingers past his lips, and he sucks them diligently, moaning around them when you sink down on his cock all the way.

You grind against him, slow and sensual, while Kai swirls his tongue around your digits. He wants you to feel his devotion. He wants his love to be so apparent that you could never doubt it. His insides are lit aflame with desire, a need to be claimed by you. You don’t know it, but you’ve carved your name into his soul. He’s eternally yours.

“I love you,” you whisper. You put your body to work, keeping all the passion and sensuality in the moment as you start riding him. Kai gasps, and you pull your fingers from his mouth, bringing them to your own to suck his saliva off of them. The act is so dirty, but it makes Kai’s dick twitch inside you.

“I love you too,” he whimpers. You take your saliva-coated fingers to your clit and rub it as you hasten the pace of your hips. His hands find your tits, squeezing the flesh and thumbing at your nipples. Your mouth drops open, and your eyes fall to Kai’s lips. He smiles as he leans in, kissing you and capturing all your moans.

He holds onto your hip so he can buck up into you, trying to get you both to your orgasms. “Cum with me,” you breathe into his mouth. You don’t have to tell him twice.

He bottoms out and releases inside you, cock twitching as his seed spurts out. You’re cumming right along with him, legs trembling and hands clutching onto Kai to keep yourself up. He watches your stomach tense up as you ride out your high. You’re the hottest sight to be seen.

Kai feels euphoric, like the world has blessed him to be the luckiest man on earth. The happiness bubbling inside him makes him feel like he could explode. He’s all giggles and stupid little smiles, peppering your face with kisses.

“I can’t believe this is real. Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he says, staring at you like you’re something precious.

“This didn’t feel real to you?” you ask, rolling your hips over him. He’s sensitive, and the motion makes him jolt. You laugh and pull yourself off of him.

“I’m ridiculously in love with you. I wish I had the words to tell you how much,” Kai professes.

“What a shame. I would’ve loved to hear it.” You peck the tip of his nose.

If that’s a challenge to get Kai to try, he gladly accepts. “I never believed in destiny until I fell in love with you. I don’t think a love this strong existed anywhere else, I think I’m the first person to love someone this hard.”

Kai will dedicate his every next breath to you. He’s yearned and longed for years, with a force much stronger than a human heart has. Feelings like this are bigger than life itself; they’re bigger than celestial bodies, bigger than metaphysical concepts. Feelings like this haven’t yet been given words to describe them.

He feels like a winner when he sees you fluster at his words—getting you to blush is not an easy feat. You look away shyly, but your lips are tilted up in a cute smile.

“Well, I love you too,” you say. Kai doesn’t need the fancy words from you; this much is more than enough. He steals a kiss from you once more.

Kai doesn’t forget to call Yeonjun when he gets the chance, figuring he should still have a word with him. It goes to voicemail. That’s fine. He leaves a very kind message for his friend to find when he decides to check his phone.

“You’re seriously the worst. You’re unbelievable. Call me back when you can, you’re gonna want to hear this.”

notes: ahhhhhh what do we think?? 🙈🙈 i’m issuing a formal apology to the one direction fans and haters who had to sit through the 1d bit. extra apology to niall girls. i also apologize to the bowling community. contrary to what this fic may imply i really do respect you guys. lmfao i hope you enjoyed this! always happy to hear ur thoughts :)

taglist: @dawngyu @fancypeacepersona @hyukarma @kveclair @mental-hollows @moaadiry 🤍

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[trikruismybitch]

Did I Cross The Line?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Kate Biship, MentionPast!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Warning: Domestic Violence, Violence, Angst, Implied Cheating

Summary: Y/n comes home after dinner and finds her wife home from a week long mission.

Word Count: 1.1k

Part Two

You walk through the door sighing, dropping your keys on the counter.

"Where were you?" Natasha asks voice husky

"With Yelena and Kate", You sigh again, you've been doing that a lot lately.

She scoffs. She narrows her eyes. It's dark but you can still see her. She's sitting at the counter sipping on a drink, most likely bourbon. Her backs slightly forward so you know she's had a few, not drunk, probably slightly tipsy.

"Listen, I'm tired and kinda tipsy. I really don't want to argue right now." You try to keep your voice soft but it comes out bitter anyways.

Natasha leans back in her chair, "I haven't seen my wife in a week. I come home she's gone and you leave no note, no text? And now when you get home at 2AM you just want to go to bed? You don't even want to speak to me?" She's angry you can tell by her voice even as she keeps tries to keep it even.

"You were on a mission Natasha, I didn't know when you'd be home. You have a phone you could have texted me." You're tired. Your bones feel heavy in your body, weighing you down, "Plus I was out with Yelena and Kate. It's not a big deal."

Natasha downs the rest of her drink.

"How am I supposed to feel, huh? You out with your ex doing god knows what?!"

You roll your eyes having heard this a few times. "My god Nat! I'm out with Yelena and her girlfriend! Kate and Yelena are dating now, did you forget that? And we're married! Kate and I have no romantic feelings for each other anymore, whatsoever!" You yell back "What you think me and Kate are having a quicky in the bathroom while Yelena waits at the dinner table, are you insane?"

Natasha stands up in anger "All I want is to come home and have my wife waiting for me! Is that so much to ask for?" she yells back

"You have to be kidding me! You're always gone Natasha! Always on a mission! I'm not going to wait around at home for you like a dog at your beck and call! I have a life too!"

Natasha scoffs, shaking her head and putting her hands on her hips "Did you forget that, that's my job! I have a responsibility Y/n! You knew this when we got married!"

"I'm an Avenger too 'Tasha, did you forget that?" You take a step closer to her "I go on missions but I don't make that my entire life! I have a life outside of avenging, I want to be able to spend time with family and friends!"

You huff out a breath "I can't with this Natasha. You have been absent from are marriage for months. Ever since the mission in Murcia," Natasha's eyes dart to the left but come back to stare at you. "You come home but you aren't present. You say you have training but i've gone to visit and you aren't there. So where have you been Natasha?"

She looks away from you not answering your question. You hesitate but ask it anyway, "Are you having an affair?"

Natasha's eyes flash to you, her crossed arms dropping.

She stares at you wide-eyes before they turn dark and angry, "How dare you ask me that! I have given you everything. We're married!" She defends herself.

"What else am I supposed to assume Natasha! You aren't here! You lie to me about where you're going! You take back to back missions! We haven't had sex in months! So you have to be getting it from somewhere else! 'Cause it sure as hell isn't me fucking you!"

"Unbelievable" she mutters, Natasha shakes her head and turns away.

"Are you serious? Don't walk away from me! You wanted to talk right?!" You go to grab her arm but the second you touch her.

It happens instantly. She clocks your left jaw and continues to attack. You block what you can but you're too shocked to properly defend yourself.

"Tasha, what are you doing!" you groan as she lands a blow on your ribs.

Natasha goes to strike your face but you block her. Grabbing onto her arms and locking them to your side so you can look at her. Her eyes are black and wild, her breaths coming out in heavy spurts and you know something is seriously wrong.

It all happens so fast. You got distracted and she used it to flip you on your back. Your head rings with the sudden onslaught of punches. Then you can't breathe.

"N-nat" you choke trying to break her grip in your throat. But she can't hear you. She stares down at you and her eyes are unfocused and you know Natasha isn't really there.

Your vision starts to go blurry with tears and black splotches clouding around Natasha's head. If you don't do something now you're going to lose consciousness. With all your strength, you're able to elbow Natasha's inner arm, loosening the hold she had on your neck. You slam your other elbow in the soft part of her thigh turning your body to throw her off you. You get up as fast as you can, left hand holding your neck, your right grabs the table to help you up. You take deep breaths, trying to regain your lost oxygen.

You turn to see Natasha sitting up from where you threw.

"Y-y/n....what-" she looks so shocked. She takes you in. You're leaning on the counter, you have cuts on your face as tears stream down your cheeks

"baby-" she chokes out tears falling from her eyes as she realizes what she had done "I-im so sorry" she reaches out towards you from her position on the ground yet even with the distance you find yourself flinching back, backing away from her.

You slowly start to inch away towards the door. Natasha starts shaking her head standing up "W-wait, i'm sorry. I didn't mean-" Your eyes go wide as she stands up quickly, too quickly, and comes at you.

You're scared. You never thought you'd be scared of her. That she'd hurt you. You shake your head and you run out the door.

"Y/n!" Natasha goes to chase you to explain. "Come back!" She needs to explain. She needs to apologize.

You run, heart beating rapidly as you hear her footsteps as she follows you. You bang on the door as loudly and fast as you can. You look around and see Nat round the corner, so you bang harder on the door.

The door opens.

You and Nat both yell.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Earning It Back

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader , Ice Brady x Reader

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Angst, emotional distress, slow-burn forgiveness, fluff, redemption

Summary: After overhearing Paige and Ice’s bet, you were devastated. Trying to move on has been nearly impossible, especially with Paige constantly trying to earn your forgiveness with flowers, coffee, gifts, and heartfelt apologies.

Part 2 of: Played

Every morning, I woke up hoping it was all just a bad dream.

But then I’d see the flowers on my doorstep—fresh, beautiful, and wrapped with care. And I’d know it wasn’t.

Paige hadn’t let up since that night at the party. If anything, she’d doubled down. Flowers, coffee with little notes scribbled on the lids, stuffed animals sitting on my bed with little apology cards clutched in their paws. Jewelry boxes with delicate necklaces—my birthstone, my favorite colors, a little charm in the shape of a basketball.

It was too much.

And yet, not enough.

Every time I found another gift, my heart twisted painfully, caught between anger and a longing I couldn’t shake.

“Hey, can we talk?”

I looked up from my lunch tray to find Ice standing there, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

I sighed, not in the mood. “About what?”

She swallowed hard. “About… everything.”

My appetite vanished. “Ice, I—”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Her eyes were wide and desperate. “I was an idiot. A huge idiot. I never meant to hurt you.”

I shook my head, my voice bitter. “Well, you did.”

Ice flinched, looking down. “I know. And I’m trying to make up for it. I really am.”

My walls stayed firmly in place. “I don’t need you or paige to leave flowers or stuffed animals or—”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” she interrupted, her voice thick. “I just… I want you to know that I’m sorry. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

I stared at her, my heart aching. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

She nodded slowly, taking a step back. “Okay. But I’m not giving up.”

Days passed. Then weeks.

Paige was even more relentless than Ice.

She would show up after my classes with my favorite smoothie, barely catching my eye as she set it on the table and walked away. My locker would be filled with handwritten notes, pages and pages of apologies and confessions that I didn’t have the strength to read.

And then there were the games.

I avoided them at first, not wanting to see her face, to watch her play and pretend everything was fine. But word got around fast—Paige wasn’t fine.

“You need to talk to her,” KK said, sliding into the seat beside me in the cafeteria.

I didn’t even look up. “No, I don’t.”

Azzi sat down on my other side, her tone softer. “Y/N, she’s… she’s not herself. She’s missing shots she’d normally make with her eyes closed. Coach is pissed.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not my problem.”

KK leaned forward. “It kinda is. You’re all she thinks about. She’s trying to figure out how to get you back. She doesn’t care about anything else.”

I swallowed hard, my appetite gone. “She should’ve thought about that before making me a bet.”

Azzi reached over, covering my hand with hers. “She’s messed up, Y/N. She knows that. But she’s trying.”

I pulled my hand back, crossing my arms. “It doesn’t just fix things.”

KK sighed, looking frustrated. “No, but it’s a start.”

The next morning, I found Paige sitting on the steps of my dorm, a fresh bouquet in her hands.

I stopped, my heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

She stood slowly, the flowers trembling slightly in her grasp. “Waiting for you.”

I bit my lip, fighting the emotions welling up inside me. “Paige…”

“Please,” she whispered, stepping closer. Her eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles under them from nights without sleep. “Just hear me out.”

I hesitated, then sighed, nodding. “Fine.”

She exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I was an idiot—I let my ego get in the way, and I didn’t think about your feelings. I didn’t think about what it would do to you.”

I looked down, my vision blurring. “You made me feel like a joke.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked. “And I hate myself for it. I hate that I hurt you. That I lost you. Please… just tell me what I can do to make it right.”

I swallowed hard. “You can’t just throw gifts at me and expect it to be okay.”

“I know,” she said, her voice desperate. “I know that. But I just… I wanted you to see that I care. That I love you.”

My breath hitched. “You don’t—”

“I do,” she insisted. “God, I do. More than anything.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away angrily. “Then why? Why did you do it?”

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Because I was stupid. I thought it was just a game. I didn’t realize—I didn’t realize how real it would get. How real you would get.”

I looked away, struggling to breathe. “I can’t just forget this.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she whispered. “I’m asking for a chance to prove that I’m not that girl anymore. That I’m yours—if you’ll still have me.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, I took a shaky breath. “You have a lot to prove.”

A spark of hope lit in her eyes. “I know.”

“And Ice—”

“Already handled,” she promised. “She’s as sorry as I am. She’s been trying to find a way to tell you.”

I nodded slowly, my defenses crumbling. “Okay.”

Paige stepped closer, cautiously. “Okay?”

I exhaled, tears slipping free. “Okay.”

And when she wrapped her arms around me, holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we could find our way back to each other.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[cosmicclearwater]

Give Him Time | E. Call

• ──────────────☾────────────── •

Genre: fluff Character: Embry Call x Reader Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: cursing, kissing/making out, use of Y/N Summary: Embry tries to keep his distance but gives up when he realizes that he no longer has a choice. Requested: Yes (from anon: "embry x reader he imprints on reader who just moved to forks (no relationship with bella or anyone in the books she jus moved thered with her family) and he imprints when shes at a bonfire on la push beach. he is around with a couple other pack members and he’s supposed to jus keep watch and he takes a while to build a relationship w her") Note: characters are aged up (around 20).

a/n: kinda hate this, but it's been ages since I've posted, and this has been sitting in my drafts for a while.

• ──────────────☾────────────── •

One week. I've been in Forks for one week and I've already been roped into attending some kind of late-night social gathering at a beach in La Push by a group of friends I met while working at the local grocery store in town. That would probably be exciting for most people, especially if they're new in town and know absolutely no one, but I don't see it that way. I would much rather be hiding away in my room, curled up under my weighted blanket with a good book and a hot cup of tea, not freezing my ass off at a bonfire on the beach surrounded by strangers. Despite it being late August and technically still summer, the nights are significantly cooler than the days, which aren't very hot themselves. Thankfully it's not raining out. I would have turned down the offer to come had it been anyone other than the sweet, kind-hearted Angela who'd asked. But since I didn't, I'm stuck listening to the annoying, air-headed Mike Newton go on an over-exaggerated tangent about the time got caught sleeping in his math class in high school and received detention for it.

As I try my best to be attentive, I can't help but let my eyes drift around the large group of people that surround the area. It was only supposed to be a small gathering, and that's how it started out, but as it gets later, more and more people show up. I sigh, continuing to scan the crowd until my eyes land on a small group of guys standing nearby. Just by their appearance, I know who they are. Jessica made sure to inform me prior to arriving about the "weird" reservation kids who act like they run the area and would probably show up to stand watch like guard dogs. She and her friends had a lot to say about the four guys, none of it being particularly nice. I don't see the problem, though, because they have kept to themselves the whole time. They speak when spoken to, but other than that, they keep conversation amongst themselves. I find myself intrigued by the reserved strangers.

My gaze lingers a little too long because one of them looks up and our eyes lock. Instantly, a shiver runs down my spine, a sudden rush of warmth replacing the coldness I'm feeling. Something about him draws me in and pulls me towards him, yet I can't find the will to move. He's beautiful, in a boyish kind of way, wearing khaki shorts and a black cut-off T-shirt despite the chilled weather. He's the one to break the impromptu staring contest when one of his friends nudges his side and steals his attention. I'm a little disappointed when his rich brown eyes look away. I watch for a little longer as they share a few hushed words before all of their eyes shift to me. The extra attention forces me to finally divert mine away.

"Hey," I lean closer to speak to Angela, "I'll be back. I'm gonna take a walk down the beach."

"Okay." She nods, "Do you want me to walk with you?"

"No, it's okay. I won't be gone long."

I walk along the shore, kicking rocks until I get far enough away that the loud music and shouting sound like a soft murmur in the distance. I find a washed-up log and sit down, watching the waves crash against the shore before retreating. It's quiet and peaceful. I could probably fall asleep sitting here. The sound of a stick snapping behind me ruins that thought. Turning my head away from the water and towards the forest, I come face-to-face with the handsome boy.

"You shouldn't be wandering around out here by yourself. It's not safe." He speaks as he takes a hesitant step closer to me.

"I could say the same to you."

"Why did you leave your friends?" He asks, coming to take a seat on the log next to me, making sure to leave a little space between us.

"They are hardly my friends." I laugh dryly, staring back out at the water. "I didn't even want to come."

"Then why did you?" I shrug in response, not really having a reasonable answer to give. "I could give you a ride home if you want."

"I don't even know you." I chuckle. "Didn't you just lecture me about it not being safe to wander off out here alone, and now you're offering me a ride home. Talk about stranger danger. This is literally the plot and premise of every teen slasher film."

"It was hardly a lecture. More of a piece of valuable advice." He smiles, offering his hand to shake. "I'm Embry Call."

"Y/N Y/L/N." I reply, grabbing his hand. It's unbelievably warm yet comforting.

"Now we're not strangers. Want to take me up on my offer now?" He asks. "If not, you could always go back and ask that Newton kid to tell you another story to help pass the time."

"I would rather step on a Lego than listen to another one of his stories." I scoff. "But I should let Angela know I'm leaving first."

"Let's go then." He chuckles and stands up, waiting for me to rise to my feet before leading me back to the bonfire.

• ───────────────────────────── •

The drive to my house seems to go by quickly. We make small talk here and there until the conversations eventually fizzle out completely and we fall into a comfortable silence. There's a weird tension that lingers in the air. Not a bad weird, just different. I want to know more about him but he's a little closed off. When we speak, it seems like he wants to let me in, he wants to talk to me, but something is stopping him from getting too deep. Despite that, he makes me feel at ease.

"We're here." he speaks softly, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Oh, okay. Thanks for the ride." I reply, attempting to hide my disappointment with a smile. "And for not killing me." I tack on a joke for further convincing.

"No problem." He laughs as he opens his door to get out. He comes around to my side and opens my door for me, grabbing my hand gently to help me out of the truck. "I'll wait here until you get inside."

"Okay," I nod. "Will I see you around?"

"Maybe." He shrugs.

"Goodnight, Embry."

"Goodnight, Y/N." The way my name rolls off his tongue so soft and smooth sends a gentle shiver running through me. Every thought in my brain vanishes and it's only the sound of his voice playing over and over again like a broken record.

By the time I make it up to my room, I'm smiling hard and surely sporting flushed cheeks. I look out my window to check, and there he is, still waiting like he said. I wave down at him once we make eye contact. He smiles and waves back before climbing into the truck and reversing out of the driveway.

I go about my usual nightly routine before finally settling into bed. The smile that this mysterious boy has somehow managed to plant on my face has yet to disappear. I think back over our interactions throughout the night, and although they had been small and more than likely meaningless to him, they had me giggling and kicking my feet like a little schoolgirl. Figuratively, of course. Once I manage to calm myself down, I close my eyes and begin to drift off to sleep, whispering a quick prayer that tonight was only the first and not the last time I would be seeing the handsome stranger.

• ───────────────────────────── •

"That movie was awful." I scoff, walking with the rest of the group out of the theater.

"I thought it was awesome!" Mike exclaims.

"How? There was an unnecessary amount of blood and gore that did absolutely nothing for the plot, and the graphics were horrible."

"Woah there! Didn't know we had a professional movie critic on our hands." Mike jokes, receiving laughter from the rest of the group.

I roll my eyes as they begin gushing and raving about the action movie as we walk down the street. I fall back behind the group a bit, putting a little distance between me and them, but not too much that it's noticeable. Not that I think they would notice anyway. Despite having hung out with them numerous times since the bonfire two weeks ago, my friendship with them hasn't progressed at all. I just don't feel much of a connection with any of them, other than Angela.

"Hey, Y/N!" A call of my name pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up at Angela and her friends to find the source, only to see them looking back at me, confusion written on all of their faces. "Hey!" The masculine voice calls again from behind me, a little closer this time. I turn around this time, coming face-to-face with one of the guys from the bonfire, Embry and a couple of others not far behind.

"Do I know you?" I ask.

"No, but I know you. I'm Jared Cameron." He offers me his hand to shake.

"Y/N Y/L/N." I shake his outstretched hand. The next one to introduce himself has short, curly hair and a boyish grin on his face.

"Quil Ateara. The fifth, but the greatest." He chuckles, shaking my hand. The last one steps up wearing a smug expression as he introduces himself.

"Paul Lahote." He smirks, grabbing my hand and bringing it up to his lips. However, before he can make contact with my skin, he is stopped by Embry's stern voice.

"Enough, Paul." He orders to the snickering man.

"Hi, Embry." I redirect my attention to the boy who stands a few steps behind the others.

"Hey." He replies, our gazes locking briefly before he looks away.

"We're heading to a little restaurant down the street," Jared explains. "Wanna join?"

"Oh uh-" As I try to find the words to respond to his spontaneous offer, I'm interrupted by the voice of a female, that I have come to realize I am not the biggest fan of.

"Hey, Y/N. Who are your friends?" She asks, leaving me no time to respond before turning to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Jessica Stanley." A chorus of 'hey's and 'hello's come from the group in response.

"We're heading home if you're ready." She directs her attention to me this time.

"Okay."

"We were actually offering her to join us for dinner," Quil states, presenting the offer Jared had extended to me just a few moments ago. "If she hasn't eaten yet."

"That's so kind of you." Jessica speaks with fake enthusiasm.

"Will you?" Jared questions, eyes trained on mine.

"Sure." I nod, turning to the group I had come with. "If that's okay with all of you."

"Go ahead." Angela is the one to step up and speak, a small but noticeable smile on her face. "Text me when you get home?"

A simple nod is all she needs before she grabs Jessica's hand and guides her back over to their group.

"Let's go," Paul speaks, throwing his arm over my shoulder as if we've known each other for years, and begins to lead me away. "I'm starving."

The restaurant we end up at is a cute, family-owned Italian place. It's cozy and welcoming, much like the rowdy group of boys who invited me to it.

"You have got to try the pizza," Quil leans in from his chair beside me to show me the options on the menu. "It's amazing."

"You think so?" I ask, amused by his never-ending enthusiasm.

"I know so." He winks, flashing me a toothy grin.

"The chicken alfredo is also really good." Jared adds from his seat on the other side of the table. I take their suggestions into consideration as I browse the menu.

"Everything looks and sounds delicious," I say, a sigh of defeat passing through my lips. "I don't know what to choose."

"We could order a couple plates of pasta and a few large pizzas to share. The portions are pretty big." Jared suggests.

"That's fine with me." I nod. "I'm still kind of full from the popcorn I ate at the theater so I won't be able to finish a full meal by myself."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Quil taps the tip of my nose with his index finger, forcing a giggle out of me at his antics. "Whatever you don't eat, I can gladly finish for you."

"Sounds like a plan then." I smile.

Once we finalize our decisions and put in our orders, we fall into easy conversation. A majority of it is Jared, Quil, and Paul bickering about random stuff or asking me questions. Despite their endless chatter, I can't help but let my mind linger on the quiet male sitting directly to my left. Before I can gather the courage to talk to Embry, Paul grabs my attention.

"How come you hang out with that Newton kid and his friends if you can't stand them?"

"Huh?" His question throws me off a bit.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't seem too thrilled when we saw you outside of the theater." He elaborates. "And you looked a little annoyed when that Jennifer girl butt in to our conversation."

"You mean Jessica?" I chuckle as I correct him.

"Yeah, her." He nods.

"I wouldn't say that I dislike them, necessarily." I shrug. "I just don't click with them well, I guess. Angela is cool, and Eric isn't too bad, but the others are just so...I don't know. Jessica has to always be the center of attention, and Mike is overly flirtatious and too handsy for me."

"Handsy?" Embry questions, addressing me for the first time since out intial greeting outside of the theater. "Has he touched you?"

"It's nothing bad," I assure him. "It's just little things like trying to hold my hand or mess with my hair. Just weirds me out a bit."

"He still shouldn't be trying to touch you without your permission." He grumbles. "Someone needs to put him in his place."

"It's fine." I shrug. "He's harmless, just doesn't understand boundaries." Before he can say anything else, the food arrives.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" The waitress asks after placing all of the food on the table. A chorus of "no's" and "no thank you's" float around the table. "Okay. Just call for me if you need me." As soon as she walks away, we all dig in.

"I am stuffed!" I exclaim after taking the last bite of pasta on my plate. There's still half a dish of pasta and a full pizza left on the table, but at the rate that the boys are eating, I'm positive it will be gone soon.

"You humans and your small appetites." Quil laughs around a mouth full of pizza. His comment earns him a harsh glare from the others.

"Humans?" I laugh at his strange words. "What are you, then? A dog." The table falls quiet as the four share a look before breaking out into nervous laughter. Ignoring their weird response, I change the subject.

"So, what is school like on the reservation?" I ask.

"Boring," Jared replies. "And a lot smaller than public schools."

"What do you do for fun?"

"We spend a lot of time hanging out with our friend Sam and his fiancee, Emily, at their place. It's our home away from home." He answers.

"Or going cliff jumping." Paul adds.

"Cliff jumping?" My eyes widen as I repeat the words back to him. "Is that even safe?"

"No, but it's fun as hell." Quil chuckles. "Gives you a huge adrenaline rush. You should come with us and give it a try some time."

"Absolutely not." Embry interjects, shutting down his suggestion before I can answer for myself. "She could get seriously injured, if she doesn't die from it."

"She'll be fine." Paul jumps in. "Jacob's little leech lover did it and survived."

"Barely." Embry scoffed. "Jacob had to pull her out and perform mouth-to-mouth on her."

"Well, it's a good thing she will be with us then." Paul responds cheekily. "What do you say, Y/N? I don't mind providing a little mouth-to-mouth if necessary."

"I'll pass."

"You should come hang out on the rez, then? At Sam and Emily's place." Jared suggests.

"I don't know." I shake my head. "I don't want to intrude. You seem like a really tight-knit group."

"It's fine." He waves me off. "You'll fit right in." A smug look flickers across his face, as if he knows something that I don't.

"Maybe, but not tonight. I need to get home soon."

"Of course." Jared nods. "Let's pay the bill and then we can head out."

• ───────────────────────────── •

"Are you sure this is okay? They won't mind that I'm here?" I ask Quil as we make our way up the drive way toward Sam and Emily's house.

"Of course not." He gives me a reassuring smile. "We've told them all about you, and they are excited to meet you. Emily's happy to have another female to hang out with. Something about there being too much testosterone around here." He rolls his eyes laughing. "Word of advice though. Don't stare at Emily's face. It pisses Sam off."

"Noted." I nod as we walk up the steps.

"Honey, I'm home!" Quil shouts into the house as he throws the door open.

"Please leave." Paul deadpans.

"Hi! You must be Y/N." A woman greets warmly as she makes her way across the kitchen, making sure to smack Paul in the back of the head and telling him to be nice. "I'm Emily Young." She introduces herself as she pull me into a hug.

"Yes, I am." I nod smiling, reciprocating her hug. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Sam Uley." A man steps up next to her, greeting me as he does. "That's Seth and Leah Clearwater," He gestures to two other unfamiliar faces sitting at the kitchen table. "And you know the rest of the hooligans."

"Hooligans?" Jared scoffs. "I'll have you know that I am a very distinguished young man." He says as he adjusts his invisible tie.

"Yeah, maybe compared to a caveman." Paul retorts, causing Jared to retaliate by intiating a wrestling match in the small kitchen.

"Enough, you two." Sam barks, trying and failing to hide his amusement at their antics.

"Come sit." Emily turns to me, gently ushering me to the only empty chair at the table, which happens to be right next to Embry.

"Hey," He greets in a quiet whisper as I take a seat.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" He questions, a look of concern on his features.

"Yeah," I nod. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem a little tense." He answers. "And they can be a lot sometimes, even for someone like me who has spent years dealing with them."

"I'm okay," I assure him with a smile. He simply nods before turning to finish his lunch as Emily sets a plate down in front of me.

"I'm not sure if you've eaten already but I saved a plate for you." She explains. "Food doesn't last long around here with all of these men so I made sure to put some aside when I heard you were coming."

"I'm starving, actually. I haven't eaten yet today." I reply. "Thank you!"

"You haven't eaten? Like, at all?" The boy named Seth asks from his spot opposite of me.

"No." I shake my head. "I was up late last night writing a paper for my English class and started working on it again as soon as I woke up. I guess I got a little too carried away and forgot to eat anything. But hey! At least I finished my paper. Four days early at that."

"You should still make sure you're eating properly though." Embry states.

"Of course." I nod in agreement. "It's a bad habit I've been trying to kick for years. Once I get locked in on something, it's hard to step away. My mom has lectured me, like, a million times about it."

"So it happens often, is what I'm hearing." Emily steps in, her mom voice making an appearance."

"More often then it should." I respond sheepishly.

"That settles it then." She shakes her head in disbelief. "I'm now making it my personal duty to make sure you are eating three full meals a day. Can't have you getting sick on us."

"You don't have to do that." I argue.

"I know I don't have to, but we take care of our own around here. I know you're new to the group, but I already consider you one of us." She explains, her tone leaving no room fro argument.

"Okay." A blush warms my cheeks as I finally begin to dig into my food.

"Embry." Sam calls his name from where he stands by the kitchen door. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He responds with a nod before rising from his chair and following Sam outside. They are standing on the porch right outside the door, speaking in hushed whispers. As the conversation goes on, Embry seems to grow increasingly frustrated or angry, I assume by the expressions on his face. A few more words are shared between the two before Embry stomps off the porch and Sam returns to the kitchen, letting out a heavy sigh as he enters. The others give him a questioning look, but all he does is shake his head in response.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks, coming to sit at the table next to Emily.

"Nothing really." I shrug. "Planned on just hanging out at home and reading a book."

"Lame!" Quil and Jared shout simultaneously.

"I'm hosting a bonfire tonight if you would like to join."

"Please do!" Emily almost begs. "You can meet the other girls as well. Kim and Rachel, Jared's and Paul's girlfriends."

"Sure," I nod. "Why not?"

"Perfect!" She smiles. "Would you like to run into town with me? I need to grab some groceries for the barbeque."

"Of course. I don't have anything else to do."

"Let me go grab my purse."

• ───────────────────────────── •

"Hey, Emily. Can I ask you something?" I ask as we walk down another aisle to grab the things she needs.

"Ask away."

"Does Embry not like me or something?" I question. "Like, did I do something wrong? Or offend him in some way?"

"Of course not." She shakes her head at my words. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know." I shrug, nervously fidgeting with the loose threads on my sweater. "He just seems closed off when I'm around. I just thought maybe it was something I did."

"That's just Embry." She reassures me. "He's always been more of an introvert compared to the other guys."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive." She stops walking and turns to face me. "Don't read too much into it. Just give him time. He'll come around." I nod in response, choosing to trust her words and expel those negative thoughts from my head. "Now come on, we only have a few more things to grab and I'm afraid those bozos might destroy the house if they are left alone too long." She giggles as she begins walking again, me following close behind.

When we return to the house, the guys are horsing around outside, as Emily and I head to the kitchen to put everything away. Once all of the groceries are in their rightful place, she begins to prep what will be needed for dinner.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, I got it, but thanks." She politely declines. "Why don't you head outside. Or you can hang out in the living room and watch some TV. Whatever you want to do."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

I begin to make my way towards the door to go outside when I notice Embry sitting on the couch by himself. I hesitate briefly before making up my mind and stepping towards the living room instead.

"Hi, Embry." I speak softly, as not to startle him.

"Hey, Y/N." He greets, glancing at me over his shoulder and then turning his attention back towards the TV.

"What're watching?"

"Nothing, really. Just flipping through channels to see if anything good is on. So far, I've found nothing." He shrugs.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"No, I don't mind." He scoots over to make room on the couch. We fall into a tense silence as he continues to flip through channels before he finally settles on a true crime show.

"Are you excited for the bonfire?" He asks, finally breaking the silence and turning his head to look at me, our gazes interlocking.

"Yeah, actually. I am." I reply, smiling. This is the first time we've had an actual conversation together since the one we had on the night we met and I can't help but feel giddy about it.

"Good." He nods, he lifts one of his hands to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"Oh, uh, thank you." I can feel my cheeks heat up instantly. "You do, too. Look handsome, I mean. Not beautiful. Not that you aren't beautiful, I just-" I blush harder as I stumble over my words.

"Thank you." He interrupts, chuckling softly.

Our conversation dies out as we stare into each other's eyes. However, the silence this time is much more comfortable. Without realizing it, we had begun to lean into each other. So close that our noses are almost touching.

"Can I-" Embry begins to speak but is cut off as Sam's voice carries through from the kitchen.

"Embry, come out. I need your help gathering the fire wood."

"Okay, be right there." He replies, backing away. "I'll talk to you in a bit, okay?"

"Okay. Yeah." I nod, another blush dusting my cheeks as I start to think about what would have happened if Sam hadn't come in.

Embry then gets up from his spot beside me, leaving me with a soft smile and following Sam out the door.

• ───────────────────────────── •

The bonfire burns brightly, providing some warmth against the chilly night air. I sit with the other girls, talking and laughing as the guys kick around a soccer ball off to the side. Just like Emily, Kim and Rachel are kind and inviting, making it easy to fall into comfortable conversation. Even Leah, despite her quiet nature.

"So, you and Embry, huh?" Rachel nudges my side gently with her elbow, wiggling her eyebrow suggestively.

"What about me and Embry?" I ask confused.

"Are y'all, like, a thing?" Kim is the one to ask the question.

"Oh, no. Definitely not." I shake my head, laughing at the incredulousness of the idea. "If you haven't noticed, he barely speaks to me."

"Which is kind of crazy to me because the guy can barely keep his eyes off of you." Rachel says.

"Right!" Kim exclaims. "Glad I'm not the only one who noticed."

"You're seeing things." I argue.

"But you like him though, don't you?" Leah asks.

"Would you think I'm crazy if I said yes?" I bite my lip nervously. "He. doesn't even give me the time if day. Today was the first time we've held a conversation that was longer than three words since the night we met, but I can't help but be drawn to him. Like some kind of invisible string is keeping me tied to him. I sound weird and obsessive, don't I?" I sigh, feeling embarrassed at my admission.

"Not at all." Emily smiles, providing me with some comfort. "Like I said earlier, just give him a little time."

"You should-" Before Rachel can finish what she is going to say, they sound of men arguing grabs all of our attention.

"I said back off, Paul!" Embry shouts angrily at his friend.

Paul laughs menacingly. "Oh yeah? Or what?"

Embry lets out what I can only describe as a deep growl as his body begins to shake in anger.

"Careful there, Call." He says mockingly. "Don't want to lose your cool in front of your girlfriend." Those words seem to be the final trigger, because on my next breath, Embry's clothes shred to pieces as he turns into a giant wolf.

All of the air leaves my lungs as the scene unfolds. Paul is next, shifting into a massive beast in the blink of an eye, right as Embry lunges for him. The two begin to fight, large jaws snapping at each other as they roll on the ground.

"What the actual fuck?" I whisper as I finally catch my breath.

"Leah, Emily." Sam calls. "Get her inside." As soon as the words leave his mouth, a black wolf, larger than the other two, takes the place where his once human form stood. The others soon follow, beginning to chase after the two who have now managed to tumble into the forest.

"Can someone please explain to me what the hell just happened?" I gasp out as we make our way into the living room.

"It's not really our place to say, but Sam can as soon as he gets back." Emily places a comforting yet firm hand on my shoulder, forcing me to take a seat on the couch.

"They're not gonna kill each other, are they?" The horrifying thought leaves my lips before I can stop it.

"No," Rachel shakes her head. "They'll be fine. This actually happens quite often."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." I look at her as if she is insane."

"Sam will calm them down, and then they will all return safely. Not scratch or bruise in sight." Kim explains. I nod, taking a deep breath.

"So they're werewolves?"

"We prefer the term 'Shifter'." Leah states.

"Can all of you do that?"

"Nope. Just me and the guys."

"You're the only female that can turn into a wolf?"

"The only one known." She nods.

"Okay." I nod, trying to process the new found information. "Wow! This is a lot to take in."

"You're handling it pretty well, though." Kim giggles. "I half expected you to run off screaming."

We sit waiting for about ten minutes, them answering the questions they are allowed to answer, before the door swings open. Jared, Quil, and Seth walk into the house, Sam, Paul, and Embry moments after.

"Sorry about that, Y/N." Paul laughs as he throws himself down on the floor in front of where Rachel sits.

"No problem." I respond before turning my attention towards Sam.

"I'm sure you have a few questions."

"That's the understatement of the century." Sam chuckles at my response as he begins to explain everything. Their history, abilities, what causes the first shift, what triggers every shift after, how they control it. He goes on for what feels like half an hour until he feels that he has covered everything.

"Now that that is out of the way, there is one more thing you must know, but it's best if you and Embry discuss that privately."

"Um...okay?" I turn to look at Embry, who is still standing next to the door.

"Can I give you a ride home?" He asks. "I'll explain on the way there."

"Sure." I nod, standing from the couch. "Thanks for inviting me. Despite all of the chaos, I really enjoyed spending time with you all."

"Of course, Y/N." Sam smiles gently. "You're welcome any time."

• ───────────────────────────── •

The first ten minutes of the twenty-minute drive pass in silence. Neither of us willing to break it, but eventually I speak, not being able to stand the tension anymore.

"Embry?" I call his name softly, my voice coming out as almost a whisper. "There was something you wanted to tell me."

"'Want' isn't exactly the word I would use, but I don't really have a choice." He sighs heavily. "For starters, I want to apologize. I didn't want to drag you into this. I tried to keep my distance, but my friends were hellbent on playing matchmakers. If it had been up to me, tonight wouldn't have ever happened."

"Oh." His words trigger an ache in my chest.

"It's not that there is anything wrong with you. You're great, actually. It's just that I didn't want to bring you into my world because it's too dangerous for you."

"Dangerous? How? What does any of this have to do with me?"

"That leads to my next point. There is this thing that us Shifters do. It's called imprinting." He explains as he slows the car down before pulling over to the side of the road and putting the car in park.

"Imprinting?" I ask as he turns to me, eyes locking onto mine.

"Yeah. In looser terms, it's kind of like finding our soulmate. The one person we are destined to be with. When we find our imprint, they instantly become the one thing in this world that we would do anything for. We will become anything they want or need us to be. A protector, a friend, a lover. They become the center of our whole world. The gravity that holds us to the Earth. Everything and everyone in our lives suddenly comes second to them."

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes," He nods, responding before I can finish my sentence as if he had read my mind. "That night we first met, on the beach in La Push, I imprinted on you. It's not something we can control, it just happens. We don't choose who we imprint on. The moment I looked into your eyes, my fate was sealed."

"Is that why you avoided me? Did you want it to be someone else?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I was avoiding you because bringing you into all of this is dangerous. There are other supernatural beings that exist, and just you breathing puts you in danger because of the connection we have."

"Other supernatural beings? Like what?"

"Vampires. Those are our biggest enemies and what triggered out phases."

"Vampires," I mutter his words back to him in disbelief. "Here in Forks?" He nods in response.

"So if you don't have control over the bond, what would happen if I didn't want it?" I question. "Not saying that I don't, just asking." I quickly explain.

"You could reject it, but it wouldn't be easy. For either of us. The longer we spend apart, the more it will begin to hurt. Not just emotionally but physically too. We would both grow weaker, and it would affect my shifting and other abilities."

"Wow."

"And I'm not saying that to scare you at all, just answering your question honestly."

"So what does that mean for us?"

"What do you want it to mean? Like I said, you are now my sole purpose of living. Your safety and well-being, your life, are now my greatest priority. I will be whatever you need me to be."

"Okay. So, if I wanted to pursue something romantically, would you only be doing it because you have to? Because I actually really like you. Like a lot. But I don't want to force you into anything that you don't actually want."

"I like you, too. And I'm not just saying that because of the bond. I do genuinely mean that. I know it didn't seem like it because of how I acted and how I treated you, but the more time I've spent around you, the more my feelings have grown. My feelings for you are real, they are just amplified by the connection we have."

"Okay."

"Is that want you want?" He asks. "To pursue this romantically?"

"Maybe." I shrug. "Do you?"

"I would like that." He smiles softly.

"Me too." I return with a smile of my own, subconsciously leaning closer to him. "We should probably take it slow though."

"Definitely." He responds, moving in more. Our noses brush gently as he speaks. "Would you be mad if I kissed you? Right now."

I shake my head at his question. "I think I would be more mad if you didn't"

That's all that needs to be said before he leans in the rest of the way and molds his lips softly to mine. Butterflies erupt in my stomach instantly. My body feels like it's on fire, but in a good way. His hand finds my cheek, angling me to deepen the kiss as both of mine find the nape of his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.

Once we both run out of breath, he pulls back, pecking my lips a few more times.

"I should probably get you home." He whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

"Yeah, you probably should." I whisper back, brushing my lips against his softly. He groans softly, caving in and kissing me hard.

"Okay." He moves away to settle back into his seat. "For real, I need to get you home."

"Sorry." I blush.

"Don't apologize." He says. "I didn't mind at all. And now that I've gotten a taste of what its like to kiss you, I don't ever want to stop, but we've been sitting here for a while out in the middle of nowhere."

"You're right. Let's go."

The rest of the drive is spent with light conversation and giddy smiles shared between the two of us. He keeps my hand interlocked with his the whole time and places light pecks against the back of it every now and then. We finally make it to my house, much to my disappointment. Embry, being the gentleman he is, walks me to the door.

"I guess this is goodnight, then." He says, hands still holding mine tightly, as if he doesn't want to let go.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be." He quirks an eyebrow at the insinuation behind my words. "Do you want to come in?"

"I shouldn't." He shakes his head, releasing one of my hands so I can unlock my front door.

"But I think you should." I open the door, tugging on his hand as I step inside. I watch as he battles with whether he should decline or give in. I wait patiently as he makes his decision.

"Fuck it!" He finally says before diving in for a kiss, kicking the door closed behind us as we stumble into the house.

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK

you can’t wait to show your boyfriend the lingerie you bought — kinda nsfw

— drabble based on this ask !!

wc: 2.4k+

note: i’m so sorry it took me this long 🥲 but yay, it’s finally here!! wanted to keep this a little shorter, like 1.5k-ish words but i js couldn't help myself write a little more hehe— enjoy the silly, sexy moments <3 check the ask for warnings if you need them lolol love all of my owiu readers out there !! 🤍

ever since you started dating jungkook, life has felt... lighter.

it’s not that the stress is gone, there are still challenges ahead of you, but one thing that keeps you grounded is knowing your boyfriend will always be there for you.

like today, when he insisted on taking you out because you’ve been working so hard lately.

you’re out with jungkook and a group of your friends; yoongi, jimin, taehyung and his girlfriend hina, and jin with his wife da-eun. these are the people you’ve grown close to, thanks to jungkook encouraging you to meet them. you didn’t have many friends before, but now you do who you're thankful for.

and you’re especially grateful for hina and da-eun. hina, the same age as you, is a bundle of energy, while da-eun, a few years older, is a calming presence. even tho they're different than you, they still, just.. get you.

the day started at a museum; jin and yoongi’s idea. it was calm and peaceful, exactly what you needed.

jungkook stayed by your side the whole time, his arm draped around your shoulders or your waist, leaning in to whisper sweet things to you. and okay, maybe he sneaked you into an empty storage room for a heated makeout session, but that’s beside the point.

it was still peaceful.

next came the arcade, a suggestion from jimin and taehyung. while the guys, especially jungkook, went wild with the games, you and the others enjoyed watching. yoongi’s consistent losing streak provided endless laughs, and the chaos turned into pure fun.

when jungkook noticed that the guys had been dominating the day’s plans, he suggested letting the women choose the next stop. naturally, hina, da-eun, and you all agreed on shopping, much to the guys’ amused groans.

now, you’re at the mall, wandering through the shops. the energy of the place, with its bright displays and bustling crowd, somehow lifts your spirits.

“i literally don’t want anything,” jimin says, stifling a yawn.

“i might grab something,” taehyung adds, his eyes darting to the plushie section. you can’t help but think it’s for hina. she told you loves collecting them, even showed you her collection.

you, on the other hand, have just one plushie from childhood, but you get the appeal. plushies are adorable.

“i really wanna buy some cute clothes!” hina exclaims, her excitement contagious as taehyung pulls her close with a chuckle.

“me too,” da-eun says with a smile, glancing at jin, who nods in agreement.

“what about you, babe?” jungkook asks, looking down at you with that soft gaze of his.

“me three!” you grin, and the group laughs.

“well, let’s head to the women’s section i gues—” jimin begins, but hina cuts him off sharply.

“men are not allowed.”

the guys blink in confusion.

“huh?” they say in unison.

“why can’t we come? it’s just a clothes section,” taehyung protests, crossing his arms.

“because we’re having girls’ time, right?” hina says, looking to you and da-eun for backup.

“absolutely,” da-eun replies without hesitation.

you nod with a smile.

“but i thought i could help pick something for—” jungkook starts, his hand still on your waist, but da-eun interrupts him.

“girls’ time!” she declares, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her. jungkook is left standing there, sulking like a kid whose toy has been taken away.

“i’m okay with that,” yoongi says, almost like a deadpan. “plus, i need to sit down. my legs are killing me.”

“same here. you girls enjoy,” jin adds, planting a kiss on da-eun’s forehead.

“all right, grandpas, let’s find you a bench,” jimin says with an eye roll, leading yoongi and jin away. taehyung pauses to kiss hina on the cheek and whispering ‘have fun’ before following them.

jungkook stays rooted in place, looking like he’s waiting for something.

you cup his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “see you later, babe.”

he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out just a bit, and you chuckle before turning to join the girls. behind you, jungkook slowly trails after the guys, shaking his head with a smile.

now it’s just you, hina, and da-eun in the women’s section, sifting through racks of clothes and chatting about everything.

“i am so glad we can take our time now and let the boys wait. i don’t even like museums,” hina huffs, sorting through a pile of clothes alongside you and da-eun.

you and da-eun chuckle, shaking your heads.

“look, this is cute. it matches your aesthetic too!” you say, holding up a light pink mini dress.

“and it looks like it would fit you perfectly,” da-eun adds with a smile.

hina’s eyes light up as she takes the dress. “i’m gonna try this on right now!” she squeals, rushing off which makes you both smile.

you and da-eun continue browsing. she picks out a few outfits while you grab some comfy clothes and a few dresses. as you glance around, your eyes land on the lingerie section nearby.

one particular set catches your attention; a lacy, red, and very explicit set that makes your cheeks warm just thinking about it. it’s the kind of thing you’d love to wear for jungkook.

you blink, trying to shake the thought, but da-eun’s voice from behind startles you. “you should buy it.”

you flinch a little and chuckle nervously. “what? no, i was just looking.”

da-eun smiles knowingly. “do you not like it?”

you look at it again and you sigh, giving in. “i love it,” you admit.

before she can respond, hina comes bounding back with the pink dress in her hands, her face glowing. “you guys were right, it fits perfectly, and i love ittt!”

you and da-eun smile at her.

“i sent a pic to tae, and he’s already drooling.” she chuckles before continuing, “what about you, da-eun? are you gonna get that pretty, sexy dress you were looking at?” hina teases with a laugh.

“obviously!” da-eun says with a grin. then both of them turn their attention to you.

“what about you, ___?” hina asks excitedly. “did you pick anything... spicyy?”

you glance awkwardly at da-eun, who grins mischievously and subtly points hina towards the lingerie display. hina gasps dramatically, her eyes widening.

“that is so fucking hot! oh my god, you should totally get that, ___. please, please, please!” hina exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes.

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands, a little flustered.

“i’m getting that one.”

“oh my gosh, i missed food!” jimin gasps dramatically, stuffing a bite into his mouth.

the eight of you are seated in a cozy restaurant, wrapping up the day with dinner after hours of fun. the table is alive with chatter and laughter, everyone enjoying their meals. the couples sit side by side, exchanging sweet moments, which jimin predictably calls out.

“ugh, get a room, all of you!” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“honestly, yes, get a fucking room. you’re all just rubbing it in that i’m single,” yoongi adds with a dry chuckle, making everyone laugh.

you’re beside jungkook, his hand intertwined with yours under the table. his thumb lazily rubs soft circles on your skin while he chats with yoongi about something. you’re barely paying attention to their conversation because all you can think about is how ridiculously fucking good he looks right now.

he’s not even trying, just sitting there in a simple shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and yet he’s got your mind wandering to... other things.

speaking of other things, you think about the clothes you bought earlier, the lingerie and a few silky nightdresses that were too beautiful to resist. the thought of showing them to him makes your heart race.

gently, you slip your hand out of his hold and place it on his thigh. his conversation falters as he glances at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s silently asking, ‘what’s wrong?'

you shake your head, smiling softly. his lips curve into a small, confused smile, but he goes back to talking.

you wait for the right moment, checking to make sure no one’s paying attention, and then let your hand slide a little higher.

that gets his full attention.

his gaze snaps to your hand, now dangerously close to a place you know will drive him insane. his jaw tightens, and you can see the realization in his eyes— he knows exactly what you’re doing.

leaning in, he brings his lips close to your ear, his voice low and deep. “if you keep doing that, i might have to take you home right now.”

you smile teasingly, leaning closer to whisper, “what are you talking about, jeon? i’m doing nothing.” your hand retreats, as if you’re completely innocent, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

you pick up the drink infront of you, sipping on it with a teasing smile.

he shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but you can tell he’s trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head— thoughts about exactly what he wants to do to you later.

. . .

soon, the evening winds down, and everyone begins saying their goodbyes.

“this was fun. we should do this more often,” taehyung says, and everyone nods in agreement.

as you’re saying goodbye to hina and da-eun, you notice the way they giggle at you, their eyes glinting with... mischief. you smile knowingly, already guessing what’s on their minds.

“what? what’s going on?” jin asks, looking at da-eun curiously.

she simply smiles at him and says, “just girlie things.”

jin frowns slightly, still confused, but lets it go with a soft laugh.

“okay then, let's go home.”

the door barely shuts behind you before jungkook has you pressed against it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so desperate it leaves you breathless. his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his body presses against yours.

you kiss him back with equal intensity, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him down, but then you pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“wait,” you whisper, your breathing uneven.

“wait?” his voice is low, and he looks at you like he’s already losing his patience.

you nod, smiling as you try to calm your racing heart. “i want to show you the clothes i bought today.”

he groans, throwing his head bacm dramatically. “right now?”

“you’ll like it, i promise.” you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed

“stay here,” you instruct, pointing at him before disappearing into the closet

he watches you go, running a hand through his hair, still trying to cool down.

a few moments later, you step out wearing a long, dark purple dress that hugs your body in all the right places. the fabric flows down gracefully, and the color makes your skin glow.

jungkook’s eyes widen slightly, his eyes raking over you with awe. “you look... fuck.. wow. so pretty.”

you twirl slightly, letting the fabric swish around you. “you like it?”

“baby, you look so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, sitting up straighter.

smiling, you step back into the closet and reappear moments later in another dress— this time, it’s a bit shorter, hitting just above your knees, with a soft floral design. jungkook grins, biting his lip as he watches you show it off.

“okay, this one’s cute,” he says, his eyes never leaving you.

you keep going, the dresses getting shorter and more... bold. when you step out in a sleek, silky black mini nightdress that barely reaches mid-thigh, jungkook groans, leaning back on his hands like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“what?” you ask innocently, moving a little, the skirt of your dress swishing just enough to tease him.

he watches you, his gaze following your every move, filled with love— and something much darker, much hungrier. “do a little twirl for me, baby,” he says, his voice dropping even lower.

you smirk and twirl, biting your lip when you see the way his jaw tightens.

“are you done yet?” he finally asks, his tone laced with desperation. “because if i don’t touch you soon, i might fucking lose my mind.”

you laugh softly, walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “one more, please?”

he grabs your waist in an instant, pulling you close until you’re straddling his lap, his warm hands settling on your hips. “fine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, “but only after you give me a kiss.”

you tilt your head down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft but full of promise. after a few seconds, you pull back, grinning. “you’re gonna love this,” you whisper before slipping off his lap and disappearing into the closet again.

jungkook leans back on the bed, exhaling, trying to control himself. but when you don’t return right away, he shifts impatiently, standing up to pace the room.

when you finally walk out, he’s stops mid-step. he freezes, his eyes widening as they take you in.

you’re wearing the red lingerie set, the delicate lace barely there, with rope-like straps wrapping around your body. small red heart-shaped details covering the parts he really wants to see right now.

he stares at you, his lips parting slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

“oh.. fuck.” he mutters, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

you walk towards him slowly, swaying your hips just a little. “what do you think babe?”

he doesn’t answer right away, too busy drinking in the sight of you. when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “i think i just died and went to heaven.”

you stop in front of him, chuckling softly as your fingers trailing up his chest. “i told you you’d love it.”

“you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, his grip on you firm as if he’s trying to stop himself from losing control. “c'mere”

you smile, letting him pull you closer.

“all this for me?” he asks, his voice low and raspy as his hands trail down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh in his large hands, pulling you even closer.

“all for you,” you whisper, your lips barely hovering over his, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

that’s all it takes for him to snap. his lips crash into yours fiercely.

and this time, there’s no holding back.

a/n: ...wish i can show yall the lingerie pic but idk if it's allowed habahabaohw

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[cyanide-and-roses]

Could you write about yan Jonathan Crane where a while after he kidnaps reader they kinda just give him a hug out of nowhere due to just needing some human interaction after so long? I need to hug this weird old man fr fr

Stockholm Syndrome

Thanks for the request! I had fun writing this one, even if it is a bit lonely. (CW: Kidnapping, manipulation, isolation, unhealthy relationships)

Jonathan was busy with work again... for somebody who kidnapped you because of his strange obsession with you, it's odd that he leaves you on your own for most of the day.

You sit down on an armchair in the living room, your gaze fixed on the large bookshelf across from you. It's become your new hobby, of sorts. Seeing which books you've read before, or maybe have heard about. Of course, after doing it so many times, it's become boring, but there's not much else to do. Jonathan has asked you don't go through his things, and you don't want to upset him.

It's odd... at first you were terrified of him. Who wouldn't be scared of their kidnapper? But after a while, after having nobody to talk to besides Mr. Crane... it made you look forward to talking to him. It made you look forward to his affection.

You hear the door open, and you perk up immediately. It's like a Pavlovian response. You hear the door open and you instantly feel happier knowing that Jonathan will finally be able to spend some time with you.

You get up, making your way to the front door to greet him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

"You're home!" You beam, barely able to contain the joy and relief you felt.

Jonathan pauses for a moment before chuckling and returning your embrace.

"My my, I surely didn't expect this. Were you that lonely while I was gone?"

You pull away, that smile still plastered on your face.

"Seriously lonely. So, how was your day? Can I talk to you while you make dinner?"

"Slow down, (Y/N). You're talking a mile a minute. I'll make some tea, then we can talk about my day. I need some caffeine."

Your smile falls a little, but you nod, watching him as he makes his way to the kitchen. You follow like a clingy dog following its owner.

Jonathan takes note of your behavior, watching you as he readied the kettle.

"... You're adorable, (Y/N). Just a month ago, you avoided me like the plague every time I tried to talk to you."

"Well, what can I say? I don't fear you anymore."

"Don't fear me, or are you just that starved of attention?"

He lets the question linger, as he finishes making you both tea.

"Come now, (Y/N). I've decided I'll indulge you by spending the rest of the afternoon with you. Would you like to watch some television? It's been a while since you've had any form of entertainment."

"I thought you didn't want me to touch your stuff, even when you were home."

"I admit, I think I may have been too strict with you. You've proven yourself to be trustworthy enough to not try to run away, so I think you've earned it. Although, I am tempted to keep you bored and lonely without me if it means you'll continue to be so adorably clingy."

"... is it alright if we can cuddle while we watch TV?" You ask, much to Jonathan's amusement.

[hanrinz]

YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEART . . . ! blue lock men are all a loser clingy and desperate for your attention

✦°．feat : isagi yoichi, rin itoshi & nagi seishiro

✦°．notes. f! reader. fluff. ooc characters. so sorry for this and for not posting anything lately </3 i kinda went overboard with isagi lol.

RIN ITOSHI

he would literally throw hands at anyone if you don't stop talking to your phone right now. it's been exactly thirty-four minutes since you have chosen to talk to your old friend over him, your boyfriend—who clearly needs your undying love and attention.

(and yes he's been counting)

you were sitting in the living room, animatedly chatting with whoever lukewarm piece of shit you were talking to. laughing and smiling about something god knows what.

and he's checking on his phone, counting down the minutes and seconds passing by as you continue babbling on and on your old friend. he's now starting to hate this friend of yours. six more minutes and he gets you all to himself and he was selfish—always been and never changing—he wants you to just be beside him right now, he didn't just took off a day from his work just to have you taken away by someone else.

he decided six minutes was too long, why can't he have you now? without any second left to waste, he made his way to the couch, standing tall and glaring menacingly at your phone, as if it would melt away from your hands.

your eyes are now on him, you grace him with a much more radiant smile, with your eyes softly conveying 'you need anything?'

yeah, he definitely needs something. he needs you to hang up on your friend and spend time with him.

you noticed the look on his eyes and it made you laugh a little from his childish acts, jealousy does look kind of attractive on your boyfriend.

your little sudden chuckle had made the other side of the phone to ask you what was so funny? you shake your head as if he could see what you were doing, the conversation had turned dull and truly you only stayed for a couple more minutes out of courtesy, but you were dying to get away from him and just be with your beloved boyfriend.

rin couldn't take this long stupid call any longer—and as much as it was petty and silly, his patience has long been gone—he takes a seat beside you, the cushion dipping from his weight his arm coming round at the back of the couch as his other one takes the device out of your hands grunting out a, “she's busy, call her next time.” and ending the call right away, leaving no room for protest.

“rin-!” you whine, you look at him with disbelief following wuth a laugh as you type out a small apology to your old friend. tossing your phone on your side table not really waiting for a reply back.

not that you don't feel bad or anything, but you were thankful that the call had finally ended.

“you were taking too long,” he grumbled while he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. “want you all to myself” he muttered on your skin, placing dot kisses along the crevices of your shoulders.

your arms now coming up to his neck as you play with the back of his hair caressing it the way he likes.

“stupid, 'm all yours.”

ISAGI YOICHI

holding your hands wasn't enough for him, well at least this very right moment. why aren't you focusing your eyes on him? is the person beside you that important? more important than him? he's sure not. just someone who wants your attention.

you were just too nice, too good for anything in this world. you were too good for him if he was being honest, someone who was way out of his league, he thinks. but, isagi yoichi is not a coward. he doesn't wait for anything or anyone and when he sets his eyes on something, he makes sure he gets it.

he tried being polite and patient with the person beside you. he really did.

but it was no use, not even the repeated mantra of “play nice” that he keeps saying on his head didn't help with the bubbling feeling welling up on his chest. it doesn't help that he notices the way the guy kept sitting closer to you and the way his eyes scans your body every passing second.

he hates it so much.

your boyfriend has never been one for violence, but he can make an exception right now. he doesn't notice the way his hands have tightened its grip with yours. catching your attention now from the sudden discomfort it causes you, breaking away from the conversation you were having, you looked at isagi with concern.

“yoichi, is everything okay?” you called out to him. he snaps away from his thoughts, replacing his hardened expression with a small smile in hopes of trying not to worry you.

“don't worry 'bout me, pretty,” he smiles, like he didn't just have any intentions of landing a punch to the guy you were talking to.

“you sure?” he only nods at your question. loosening the grip he has on your hands, but still firm as ever.

he knows he has to leave soon for the game and the thought of leaving you with this guy alone makes him go crazy. don't get him wrong, of course he trusts you with all of his heart.

the problem was the trash beside you, though he was more than willing to show how much he deserves your attention more.

“jus’ keep your eyes on me, yeah?” was all he says to you before he leaves.

the match starts, with isagi more than determined to score the first goal, maneuvering the ball with precision, getting behind the players and kicking with high accuracy, isagi scores the first kill.

he didn't care for the crowds uproar, nor the signal sound of the goal he just scored, not even the commentators voices, because what he needs to know is if you were looking at him. searching for your face at the sea of people in the vip section, your eyes meet. his heart kicks into overdrive, pride welling up on his chest as he returns the smile you wore on your face.

the guy beside you was left forgotten, he didn't fail to shoot him a look of abhorrent, secretly in the middle of the match.

and the team wasn't oblivious to the striker's jealousy, they saw it all, isagi couldn't give a damn if this was going to be used against him.

he won. isagi yoichi, the heart of blue lock won another match, dominating the game with fierce play. all he wanted to do was to come to you and have you all night to himself.

“isagi, is there a particular reason for your amazing play today?”

“isagi, how do you feel about today's match?”

“just one moment of your time, isagi!”

he ignores all the noise of the press, shooting up a tired look to rin hoping that the captain would handle all the troublesome questions. he didn't wait for an answer, already trudging back to the locker room.

and there you were waiting for him, all pretty and nice. he smiles to himself as he calls out for you.

raising your eyes in his direction, as you run up to him with a big smile “yoichi!”

he would really like to hug you right now, if not for the dripping sweat of his jersey. and he knows how much you don't like it. he settles for holding your hands instead, but this time your eyes were on him. not on that guy, not any of his teammates, not on anyone, but him.

he places a small tender kiss in your hands, with a tired grin on his face, a little drunk over you.

“was i good?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him.

and you wonder what has prompted this question by your boyfriend, but you don't dwell on it as much when he looks at you like a lovesick puppy.

“the very best, yoichi.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

a big baby who's stuck in a 6ft striker's body. why would you choose some little kid over him? don't you see he's so much better?

“what a bother,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed with the little kid who's been taking up your time in the arcade. he stands lazily by the side, seeing you helping a little kid who seems to be having a hard time winning in a game.

it all started when the two of you had planned out a day for a date, weeks of not being able to be together because of his game overseas.

and now that he gets the time to have you, a little pesky child just managed to snatch you away from his hands. a big pout was residing on his face, clearly he wasn't going to wait for you to come back to him.

arguably, he was being the child in this situation, giving sharp glares at the back of the head of the kid.

poor kid, who just wants to win a little plushie.

and what adds into his sour mood is when you tell him to go play some games to keep him busy while you help the small child.

you really expect him to go away from you and play all by himself? no way. you probably didn't get the notion that he needs you, when he plays all these stupid games. now he stands close by the claw machine, his arm folded on his chest, sighing loudly every minute, impatiently waiting for you.

you were terrible.

very horrible at claw machines, it comes to the point you have almost consumed half of your coins that were supposed to be for you and nagi. you really tried your best, feeling bad for the kid who asked you to help him get a gift for his little sister.

only left with frustrated sighs and disappointment, you turn to your sulking boyfriend by the side, who seems to light up from his sullen expression when you look at him. you flashed him a smile that looks a little strange, not the same ones that keeps his heart beating up and down or makes his ears aflare with redness.

no, you were asking for something. your eyes gesture the claw machine that you're struggling with, you didn't even have to beg, nagi has always been the one to fold for your wishes and bidding.

he was quick to get by your side and play on the controls, if getting this stupid plush penguin was to win you back he'll gladly get ten more of it.

and with just a few calculated flicks and timed clicks, he won. like he always seem to, when he's all fired up and determined.

“easy,” he muttered, as he drapes himself over you engulfing you in a warm embrace, as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo, placing a kiss in your hair in the process.

you laugh at him, letting yourself melt into his bear hug, your hands coming up to caress his snowy hair, “you still down for more, genius?”

“duh.”

you might have returned home with empty pockets and content hearts that day.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated! is it obvious i'm crazy for isagi?

[yauchfilms]

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

sunburn ✢ logan sargeant (18+)

pairing: logan sargeant x reader (established relationship)

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

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

word count: 3.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he lifts the bottle of aloe up towards you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i thought you said we weren’t–” 

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

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

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

you let out a whimper, shaking your head slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[papriikau]

I miss us sometimes

JAMES WILSON x FEM!READER

SUMMARY You and James Wilson hadn't spoken since your divorce. You still care for him after all this time, but choose to avoid him to avoid getting hurt. But when a family emergency forces you to reconnect with your ex-husband, you struggle with your feelings for each other.

WARNINGS sex mentioned, nothing too bad.

NOTES I started this and half way realized I didn't know where I wanted to go with it so the last half is kinda rushed, but its still cute.

It had been 5 years since you had spoken to James Wilson. Once the divorce had been finalized, that was the end of it. For James, he had already gone through two divorces before you, but it had only been your first. You truly were enamored by him; he was 6 years older and he seemed like he had it all together when the two of you met, but that facade slowly faded away after only 3 years of marriage.

You avoided the hospital he worked at whenever a hospital visit was required, that was until last night. You received a phone call that your mom had a stroke and was taken to Princeton-Plainsboro hospital. Obviously your need to avoid James was a lot less important than your mom, so you drove over to the hospital.

“Dad what's happening?” you ask your father and the doctor he was talking with informs you that she's in the ER and all you can do is wait. And that’s what you do, you wait around until you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

“Good evening House,” you say tiredly.

“Here for a conjugal visit? I can call Wilson down,” 

“Please don’t, I'd rather not know I’m here,”

“Too late. Wilson! I didn’t know you ordered a stripper,” House yells out as your ex-husband walks into the room. You curl up in the chair you’re in, hiding your face in your hands. He walks over and House promptly takes his leave.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he says awkwardly, as if he isn’t sure what to say to his ex-wife he hasn’t seen in 5 years. You sit up and take a big breath in. You're not in the best state at the moment, bags under your eyes, messy bed head and pajama pants and a sweater.

“My mom had a stroke, what about you, what are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh, how's she uh- how's she doing?” James asks, ignoring the stupid question you asked.

“I don’t know, I just got here and no ones told me anything yet,” 

“Give me a moment,” he walks off, and you watch as he talks to some of the other doctors for a couple of minutes before returning to you.

“Did they say anything?”

“She's stable, they have been moving her to her own room soon, but they'd like to keep her overnight to monitor her,” he informs. You're glad he is keeping this interaction fairly professional, you don’t know how you’d act if he started trying to talk about your personal life. The two of you stay silent for a while. You intend to keep it that way, but knowing James, he's bound to start a conversation about something.

“Do you still work at the University?” he asks.

“Yeah, I was promoted to department head four years ago,” you play with your nails awkwardly.

“I have to get back to work but maybe we could catch up over lunch some time?” he offers. You look up and he has a kind but nervous smile on his face, looking down at you.

“I don’t know if this is the best time to be asking me out to lunch,” you say slowly. He winces and runs a hand down his face.

“Right, I'll see you around then,” he says, an embarrassed haze over his expression. You nod, letting him get back to whatever he was doing. Not long after your mom was moved into her own room where you could be with her. Considering it had been the middle of the night when you received the call, you were tired and ended up falling asleep. 

It wasn’t until afternoon that you saw James again. You had called in and canceled your classes for the day so you could be next to your mom. Your dad had gone home to grab a few things and your mom was asleep in the hospital bed, when you hear small knocks on the door. You turn and see James in the doorway. You wipe the sleep from your eyes and stand up.

“How's she doing?” he asks.

“Doctors said she’s gonna be fine, she should be discharged tomorrow morning,” you nod, keeping your eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at him.

“That's good, how are you doing?”

“I think I’m doing alright, just worried about mom,” James got close to your parents when you were together. They had grown fond of him and when you cut contact, they were devastated but decided to do so as well to support you.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not since last night,”

“Why don't I buy you lunch,” he offers.

"You don’t have to do that, I’ll probably get something when dad gets back, I don't want to leave mom, so,” you ramble a little bit. You blink a ew times, trying to clear your head. Talking to him again brings you back to being 24, flirting with the cute doctor at the Oncology seminar. 

“We can just go to the cafeteria and bring it back here, how about that?” He offers a kind smile. God he still had it. 

You think for a moment before hesitantly nodding, “okay.”

He takes you out to the cafeteria, suddenly self-conscious of your state, “House is working on a case right now so he won't be bothering us,” James calms your nerves a little.

“Thank god, don't get me wrong he's great, but not really,” you let out a quiet laugh.

“Tell me about it,” he rolls his eyes playfully. You walk through the cafeteria and grab some food, your appetite hasn’t quite come back yet so you only grab enough to hold you over. James, being the gentleman he is, pays for your lunch and walks you back to your moms room. She’s still sleeping, but your dad is back so you go sit next to him. James gives him a polite nod and exchanges brief pleasantries before leaving, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly before stepping out. 

James checks in again before he leaves his shift, and the next morning, your mom is discharged. Your dad helps her into the car, telling him to take her home and that you’d be over soon after. They drive away and then you go back inside of the hospital, working up some nerves, deciding at the door that maybe you don't actually want to do it, but you push through the nerves and turn back around.

Three knocks on the office door and James peeks his head out, opening it all the way when he sees it’s you. “Hey, how's your mom?”

“She just got discharged, dads are taking her home now,” You nod nervously.

“That's good, is there anything I can do?” he asks, curious as to why you're knocking on his office, very clearly searching him out.

“Are you free Saturday? Around noon?” you say, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “You asked me to lunch and I thought I’d take you up on that offer,” He stares for a moment, not sure what to do, but nods his head unconsciously.

“Yes, absolutely,” he clears his throat and invites you into his office. “Where uh- where do you want to go?” he asks.

“How about that lunch place we always went to, the one down the street from our old house?” you suggested, not sure if you should have suggested such a staple in your relationship.

“Okay, Saturday at noon, I'll meet you there,” he agrees and you offer him a smile before leaving the hospital.

—

James taps his foot nervously, looking at his watch. You're running 20 minutes late, and James was about to leave when the bell on the door jingles and he looks up to see you.

“I’m so sorry, I had to come into work today to mark papers,” you apologize, internally cringing at your own lateness.

“You're okay,” he says, remembering the days he came home late or missed date night because of work, he is fine excusing 20 minutes. For two hours the both of you hang out in the restaurant, just talking and catching up on the last 5 years.

For the longest time when you thought of James you thought about the reasons he pissed you off, or what got on your nerves, the reasons you got divorced, but talking to him after all this time makes you remember a lot of the reasons that you married him in the first place. It feels natural talking to him, it feels good talking to him and you hate it.

You hate that you feel good around him.

The lunch date ends and you both go your separate ways, promising to do it again sometimes. You exchange numbers and the next week try to make plans, but busy schedules get in the way and the two of you aren't able to pick a day and then it dies out quickly, and you go back to not speaking.

—

You're sitting on your couch, watching a movie when the phone rings, it's late at night so you're not sure who could be calling.

“Hello?” you say into the phone.

“Hey, can I ask a really big favor?” James says from the other end. You look at the clock to see it’s 11pm.

“What is it?”

“I don’t have my car right now, or my wallet and I missed the bus and I don’t know who else to call so-” you cut him off.

“You're at the hospital?” 

“Yes,”

“Can you wait 40 minutes?” you sigh.

“If your busy then I can ask someone for money for a cab,”

“Okay, I’ll leave now,” you hang up the phone before he can argue and get in the car, throwing on a jacket and some shoes before leaving. It starts to rain and when you pull up in front of the hospital, you flash your headlights and James runs out, covering his head with his jacket.

“I didn’t know you lived so far away, I could have-” you cut him off again.

“It’s no problem,” you yawn, not looking forward to the drive home. He thanks you and directs you to his apartment, which is 20 minutes in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” he says and offers you a warm smile.

“No problem,” you wipe your eyes and yawn. “Maybe call me earlier than 11 next time,” you laugh tiredly.

“I’ll make sure to,” he gets out of the car, thanking you again and heading inside. You sit in the car, trying to wake yourself up before driving an hour home. You turn the car back on and as you put the car in drive, James knocks on the window, his jacket over his head, you put down the window a little, not wanting to get your car seat too wet.

“What’d you forget?” you start looking around the passenger's seat.

“I forgot you,” he laughs.

“What?” you narrow your eyes.

“You shouldn’t drive while you're that tired, stay the night,” he offers and a red haze covers your cheeks.

“I don’t know if that's the best idea,”

“Sleep on my couch, please,” You think for a minute before shutting the car off again, quickly getting out and running with him to the front door. You walk over to his apartment and he opens the door, letting you in. He shakes off his jacket and hangs it up. You stand there awkwardly, your eyes watching him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, unable to take your eyes off him.

God this was a mistake.

I'll grab you some blankets, get comfortable and make yourself at home.” That simple, and commonly used phrasing comes off very different to you, and he felt it too. He swiftly exited into his bedroom while you sat on the couch, your hands in your lap, looking around at the books littered around, coffee stains on the table, and of course a few pieces you remember as being in your shared home. You remember picking out the couch cushions with him the night he proposed.

“Here,” he says, another memory in his arms. He handed you the blanket and you couldn’t help but just look up at him. “Everything alright?” he tilts his head.

“I think so, thanks for letting me stay,” you recover quickly.

“Your welcome,” he says and sits in the arm chair, leaning back in it. “Sorry if this is weird,” he says after a moment of silence.

“It is a little,” you say, looking down at the blanket.

“Well it's not like we're strangers,” 

“We kind of are,”

“We know each other,” he says.

“We used to know each other,” you correct. He runs a hand down his face, letting it fall into his lap.

“It has been a while hasn’t it,” he sighs, looking over at you, wanting you to look up at him too. You could have him if you wanted. He invited you back into his place, he had to know there was even the smallest possibility that could happen, but you knew it would be too hard to leave if you did sleep with him. You have to remind yourself how shitty he had been close to the end of your marriage; he was negligent and never home, and when you were in a state of vulnerability and needed someone, he wasn’t there to help you.

But God the sex was good.

“I’ll let you rest,” he nods and heads to his own room. You let your head fall into your hands. How could you be so stupid, you didn’t fight for him back then, and you're still too much of a coward to do it now.

Eventually, sleep overtook you and you woke up to James sitting in his kitchen, sipping a coffee. “Morning,” you rub your head tiredly, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Sleep well?” he asks

“Good enough,” you get up and stretch, “mind if I have some?” You point to the coffee pot.

“I can’t drink a pot on my own,” he laughs and you laugh with him, search through a few cabinets until you find a mug pouring yourself some.

“Not sure how I’m going to explain to my boyfriend I spent the night at my ex-husband's place,”

“You have a boyfriend?” he says, the slightest bit of outrage in his voice,

“No,” you smile coyly into your mug. He rolls his eyes.

“Any luck in that department?”

“Not really, I’ve been focused on work,” you shrug. He says the same thing.” You were my first like, real relationship,” he can't say the same.

The two of you sit in silence for a little while before you break it once again.

“Being divorced sucks,” you admit, sipping on your coffee.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs. The both of you finish drinking your coffee in silence. It's not that you don't know what to say, you just have nothing else to say.

“I should be heading out, I got some things to do today,” you put the mug in his sink. 

“Thanks again for last night, if I had known you lived so far away I would have found another way,” 

“I’m glad you called me,” 

“Really?” he tilts his head.

“I miss us sometimes,” you look up at him, a bit of a shocked, awkward expression on his face.

“Only sometimes?” He takes a minute to respond.

“Only sometimes,” you repeat, silence filling the air once again. “Maybe we could get dinner tomorrow?”

“Uh- yea, I'd love that,” he stutters, his cheeks dusted with a bit of pink. You love when he gets flustered.

You smile, heading for the front door, “I’ll pick you up at 7.” “It's a date,” he takes a step forward, deciding to not get any closer.

“It’s a date,” you repeat before slipping out and into your car. It takes you a moment to recover; the butterflies in your stomach impeding your ability to think straight. Eventually you make the drive home, thinking about your date with your ex-husband.

—

“So who’s the unlucky girl,” House bursts into Wilsons office.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Wilson deflects.

“So there is a girl?” House concludes.

“There’s no girl,”

“Then who was this from?” House shows him a little sticky note you wrote him. Wilson furrows his brow.

“You ate my lunch?” he accuses.

“Who is it,”

“No one! I’m not seeing anyone!”

“Liar!” House accuses. That's when there's a knock on Wilson's office. House, being the one standing, opens to the door, only to find you standing there with two coffee cups.

“Am I interrupting something?” You ask and watch as House looks between you and Wilson.

“You’re dating your ex-wife?!” House says overly loudly. You wince, walk into the office and shut the door.

“Good to see you too Greg,” you say, forcing yourself to be polite before making your way over to James and sit on his desk, ignoring House.“ Thought you could use some coffee,”

“You didn’t happen to bring lunch did you?” James rolls his eyes.

“No, we could go out real quick, on me,” you offer.

“Anything to get out of here.” he stands up and gives you a kiss before leading you out of his office, his hand on your back.

“Am I invited?” House calls out after, to which you both just roll your eyes.

“Where do you want to go?” you ask, leaving the hospital.

“How about our usual lunch spot?” James suggests.

“Aren’t you tired of that spot?”

“Not one bit,” he looks over at you with loving eyes and grabs your free hand with his. You both lean in for a quick kiss, then go to lunch.

[steddieas-shegoes]

count on your courage

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is what makes you brave'

rated t | 1,508 words | cw: coming out (one goes horribly wrong offscreen, one goes perfectly right), steve gets kicked out | tags: wayne munson is the best uncle, secret relationship, steve has bad parents, hurt/comfort, wayne adopts steve

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Steve should've gone to Robin's probably.

But when you're in a state of shock after being kicked out of your house because your dad found a handwritten love note from your boyfriend, you don't always think clearly.

He was sitting outside the trailer, on the gravel driveway, rocks digging into his ass and thighs, thinking about how uncomfortable the back seat of his car was for sleeping. He managed to grab his sandwich bag of savings, which was barely enough for a motel for a couple of weeks, but maybe he'd find a place that would be more understanding.

After Vecna, most places were open to any arrangement on payment as long as they got something.

"Steve?" Eddie's voice filtered to him from the front door of the trailer.

It wasn't until he heard Eddie's voice that he realized Wayne's truck was parked next to Eddie's van, which meant Wayne was home, which meant Wayne would be confused as hell.

Eddie's hands were on his shoulders, worried and tugging him out of his own thoughts.

"Hey," Steve said.

"What're you doin' here, Stevie? You said you weren't comin' over because you have an early shift tomorrow," Eddie's eyes were wide, and Steve realized he must assume there's an emergency.

"Oh. I did say that." Steve sighed. "I actually don't know why I came here."

"Shit, Steve. Did you hit your head? Is it...you know?"

"No. To both. Just-" Steve didn't want to alarm him, but he did have to say what was going on. "My parents kicked me out. Well, my dad did. My mom just kinda...let him?"

"What? Jesus Christ, Stevie. Come inside, you're shivering," Eddie pulled him up so he was standing awkwardly in front of him. "How long have you been out here?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. Which was true. He knew his parents got home around five, and his dad had stormed out of his office around six, yelling about Steve's belongings being where they shouldn't be. It didn't take long after that for all hell to break loose. "What time is it now?"

Eddie looked down at his watch. "A little after nine."

"Huh. I guess close to two hours."

Eddie cussed under his breath, then wrapped an arm around Steve's waist.

It's not like they had to worry about being seen; What used to be a full trailer park now mostly consisted of the Munson's new trailer and Max's trailer that was only inhabited for a few hours a night, if that.

"Ed? Everthin' okay?" Wayne called from the porch.

Steve looked up, panicked.

It's not that he hadn't been around Wayne plenty of times, especially while Eddie was in the hospital. He'd run into him a few times at the trailer as he passed through the kitchen to pack his lunch for work or when he was heading to bed when Steve was picking Eddie up for work.

It was more like he felt like everything was written clear across his face, and if Wayne found out about him, he'd find out about Eddie, and what if he kicked Eddie out?

They couldn't both be homeless.

Eddie didn't verbally respond, but he must have done something to let Wayne know everything wasn't okay.

"C'mon in then," he gestured, opening the front door for them both to walk through. "Get that blanket off my chair for him."

Steve didn't know why he needed a blanket, it's not like it was even cold.

But as he was gently pushed down onto the couch, he noticed how much he actually was shivering, and realized he must've forgotten his jacket in his haste to leave his house. It wasn't winter, but the chill in at night was too much to be outside without a jacket.

The blanket was soft, and smelled a lot like Wayne's cologne, the one he insisted he didn't wear, but Steve could always smell just a hint of it lingering in the air after he left the room. It was a comforting smell, one he'd gotten used to in the background. One he'd come to associate with Eddie, and calm, and home.

He could hear Wayne and Eddie whispering by the kitchen counter, but couldn't quite focus on the words they were saying.

Wayne sat down across from him, right on the coffee table, like it wasn't a piece of furniture specifically designed for holding things that were never touched. Eddie sat down next to him, leaving no space, and no way to mistake how close they were.

He tried to scoot away, just leave a few inches of space so Wayne wouldn't question it. Eddie's hand on his knee stopped him.

"You wanna tell me about what's going on?" Wayne asked softly.

"I'm fine-"

"I didn't ask if you were fine. I asked if you wanted to tell me what was goin' on." Wayne's voice was gruff, but his face was open, his body leaning in closer to them so he could listen to what Steve had to say. "You ain't gotta tell me everythin', but if you're gonna be stayin', I'd like to know why you look scared outta your mind."

Eddie's hand moved to his back, rubbing in circles, comforting. "It's okay, sweetheart."

Wayne didn't even flinch at the pet name.

Maybe he was just used to Eddie being a bit too loose with his words, or maybe he actually knew.

"My parents um," Steve silently asked Eddie for permission to say more. Eddie nodded. "They found a note from Eddie to me. And they figured out some stuff about um..."

"It's alright. He knows about me," Eddie said softly.

"Go on, kid," Wayne said.

"They found out that he's my boyfriend from the note, and they didn't want their letdown of a son in their house anymore. I had to grab what I could in just a couple minutes and get out."

Wayne's hand rested on his knee now. "Thanks for tellin' me, son."

Steve broke.

The tears came so quickly, so viciously, he couldn't breathe. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, pulled him tight to his chest.

Wayne's hand was on his back, an extra comforting weight as he let the events of the evening sink in.

His parents didn't love him, didn't want him, didn't even care to hear about how lucky he was to finally have someone who got him.

But Wayne was here, showing him acceptance.

Eddie was here, holding him and loving him through this.

And when Robin heard, she'd be by his side, making threats that would make him laugh.

Eventually, he would tell the others, maybe even Hopper.

But for now, he held the courage Eddie gave him close to his chest, used this as a practice run.

"I'm gonna make us some hot chocolate. You got any stuff in your car to bring in?" Wayne asked.

"Just one bag."

"We'll get it in the mornin'. You can borrow some of Ed's clothes tonight. And you let me worry about gettin' your stuff. Me and Jim can handle it." Wayne stood up and started walking towards the kitchen. "And Steve?"

"Yeah?" he pulled away to wipe his eyes and look at Wayne, who was smiling at him.

"I don't expect ya to pay rent, but I do expect ya to help with chores. Your days for dishes can be Mondays and Thursdays and you'll be in charge of groceries one week a month. Sound okay to you?"

He blinked back at Wayne, confused.

"You can share a room with Eds, but remember the walls are thin."

"Wayne!" Eddie choked out.

Steve laughed, genuinely happy on a night when he was sure he'd be miserable for days to come. "We'll behave."

Wayne knocked once on the doorway and walked out of sight.

Steve turned to Eddie and kissed him once on the lips, a quick peck.

"You okay with me living here? Wayne kinda just invited me without talking to you," Steve felt himself blush.

"I want you to be safe and happy, right here with me. With us. If that's what you want."

"Yeah. I want that," Steve rested his head against Eddie's shoulder and sighed. "I'm tired."

"You were brave tonight. Takes a lot outta ya." Eddie kissed the top of his head. "I should know by now that I can always count on your courage, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Took me three years to admit to Wayne that I was gay. Took you three minutes," Eddie let out a quiet laugh. "You amaze me."

"You're being sappy," Steve said into his shirt.

"Let me be a little sappy."

Steve could hear the words he wasn't saying, had felt them plenty of times over the last couple of weeks, maybe months. The 'I love you' that was hidden under sappy words, hidden under the blanket wrapped around him being adjusted by worried hands, hidden in hands that were always touching him to remind him he wasn't alone.

They might be hidden now, but they wouldn't be for long.