#It's short and sweet but next one WILL NOT BE SWEET.

[sugoroo]

#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

© 2024 SUGOROO.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[amaranthinespirit]

(late) halloween costumes with husband!simon riley

you're barbie and he's ken! it only makes sense since you could never convince him to put on a wig for anything else, so his natural blond has to work in your favor!

though, he's not the quite the himbo that ken lives up to be, but you'll make do gelling up his hair, his sharp, honey eyes glaring down at you as you put the sticky product in his soft hair.

but you're so pretty, he doesn't even fight it while you wear your pretty pink and, if you're not already, blonde wig. the clingy bracelets on your wrists clink against one another, and your sweet smelling perfume wafts to his nose.

you've managed to convince him that ken doesn't wear a mask—though he argued he can be his own ken, ghost ken. you just roll your eyes as you throw a button up in his direction, but you won't convince him to wear goofy color shorts.

you'll hand out candy to the roaming neighborhood kids—king sized candy bars because simon doesn't cheap out, he wants to be the cool house on the block.

but that doesn't mean he wants to wait around for the little kiddies to come running. he grumbles on about why you two couldn't just leave a bowl of candy on the front porch with a sign so he could take you to bed, mumbling about how the noises heard from the house will be scarier than whatever bullshit the houses next door have.

you just give him a smack to his chest, pulling him to the couch to watch a movie while you wait for the little kids to come knocking on your door.

it ends up taking you a few seconds to get up from the couch with simon groping you through your costume with his rough paws, calloused skin against your plush, smooth flesh, chapped lips pressing chaste kisses to your neck. he chuckles lowly at your slightly frazzled appearance, sending you on your way to the door with a smack to your ass.

[florencebirdsong]

Wolf Hunt

Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Rio needs to get out some of those animal instincts

Tags: primal play, biting, Rio has fangs and claws you’re welcome, strap on (r receiving), predator/play, wolf Rio, prey reader, 

Authors Note: I definitely didn’t make Rio a wolf because Death is a wolf in puss and boots. It was absolutely not a deciding factor. Ahem. Anyway, short and not so sweet

masterlist | ao3

You feel her before you see her. Her heady presence fills the small clearing and you eagerly look into the dark. The fire has ruined your ability to see far but the sound of shifting dirt points to where she’ll pop up. You resist the urge to get up when you can make out her silhouette. Being too eager means you’re more likely to get stuck away from the warmth of the fire.

You tilt your head curiously as she stops outside of the firelight. Her hood isn’t up and the flickering fire light shows that it’s not her skull face. She smiles and you smile back. It takes you a moment to notice the shine of her teeth. Of the fangs poking past her lips. 

You freeze. Her smile widens. Your eyes drop to her hands which are now tipped in claws. You bolt like a rabbit. Her deep laugh echoes behind you.

Branches claw at you and roots try to trip your feet as you run. You can’t tell how close she is and you don’t risk looking back. A wolf howling behind you turns your racing heart into a gallop. You take a wild turn and then another. There’s a river that, if you can get across it, you might be able to use to lose her.

You try and zigzag your way towards it. Unpredictable moves giving you an edge in your race against Death. But they’re also a risk. 

Another sharp pivot puts your foot into a tiny shrub. You crash to the ground but use your momentum to roll and shove yourself up again. The precious seconds cost you. Huffing growls fill the air behind you and you try to force down the panic. She’s gaining with every step. Your shoulder catches the trunk of a tree and you stumble. She’s so close you swear you can feel her breath. You prepare yourself to hit the ground. The shock is always what does you in. It comes a second later.

She tackles you but you’re quick enough to wriggle out of her grip before she can cage you in. You think you’re free until her claws wrap around your ankle and you slam into the ground. Her hands are quick to find your legs and hold them down.

You try to kick her off of you but it’s too late. She kneels where her hands were. She slams your shoulders onto the ground. Her claws dig into your skin. Trying to shove her off is useless so you go for her elbows. They don’t bend. She growls and moves one hand to push your head back, baring your neck to her. Your hands move to her shoulders to get some leverage as you try and buck her off. Then you try to unbalance her by shoving her chin up. She growls and bites your fingers. You yelp and pull back instinctively. She huffs a laugh. You bare your teeth at her but stop when she does it back. Her fangs are so much sharper than yours. 

You grip her wrist to try and free your head but she pushes until you feel a strain and you have to stop. Your hands hover, unsure what to do next as her eyes run over your captured form. You decide fuck it and jab at her throat. She chokes at the feeling but Death doesn’t need to breathe. Your hands are forced down beside your head and she growls in your face. 

You growl back, but it turns into a whimper when she sinks her sharp fangs into your throat. You don’t attempt to push her off, knowing ripping her teeth out of you will only hurt worse. Your body goes limp. She growls in satisfaction. 

Her hips grind against you and you whimper. She’s got her teeth into you. There’s no escape now.

She ruts against you and the sharp ache in your neck makes it take too long for you to notice the hard thing hiding in her pants.

She finally releases your throat and you whimper at the fresh sting. She tries to pull your pants down and growls in frustration, ripping them open with her claws instead. You flinch but they don’t snag you. She lines up her strap and fills you with one thrust before her hand returns to your wrist. You hadn’t even thought to move it. There’s no thoughts now.

Rio doesn’t give you time to adjust or work you up. She ruts into you like the animal she is. Grunting and growling as you whimper and mewl below her. Her nose in your neck constantly nudging the wound on your neck, her hot breath doing nothing to soothe it.

You sloppily meet her thrusts as the stretch turns from painful to delicious, breathing heavy as pleasure floods through you. She bottoms out every time, skin slapping yours as she chases her own high. 

She grunts and bites you again, right above the first mark. A sign she’s close to coming. You whine and struggle against her hold. You aren’t close enough yet. Her jaw clenches tighter, her nails dig into your skin and her thrusts turn punishing. One hand leaves your wrist and finds your clit, pinching harshly. A high-pitched sound leaves your throat and you arch into her, sharp pleasure crashing into you. Her hips do that stuttering thing that shows she’s coming and you fall over the edge together. She’s no nicer, taking what she wants, but you’re too full to care. 

She stills, still inside of you, before laying down on top of you and nuzzling your neck. The movements zing along the lingering pleasure.

Panting, you lay there as the waves ebb out of you. Rio nuzzles and licks over her new marks, knowing it takes you longer than her to come down. You whimper when she hits a particularly tender spot. You can feel her purr. 

Her tongue pokes and prods until you’re limp under her. Satisfaction rolls off of her in waves. You won’t be about to run again and she’s marked you for all to see. You’re hers until the next hunt, when she’ll need to prove her claim all over again.

[my-eyes-burn]

cw: non con/dubcon, stepcest, fingering, aphrodisiac, fucking, dirty talk, implied voyeurism. afab reader w/gendered language.

pervy stepbrother!suguru who has been waiting for the perfect time to slip something special into his stepsister's evening tea. it's an aphrodisiac, a strong one. his plan is to deliver the tea like he usually does and then wait for you to come to him, begging. it's a fool-proof plan and it works perfectly.

pervy stepbrother!suguru who gives you your usual cup of tea. when you say thank you and offer him that sweet smile, his lips curl. he can't wait for you to come begging to him. sure enough, you start to feel hot between the legs and dizzy. your vision is blurry and you start to sweat--is that a fever? the blazing heat between your legs starts to pulse and there's only one thing on your mind: suguru. your body practically pulls you in his direction. one moment, you're in your room sweating bullets and squeezing your legs together, and the next moment you're standing in front of him while he sits on the couch.

pervy stepbrother!suguru who pats his lap and smiles. you ease yourself down onto his thighs, which he spreads a bit, and your back touches his chest. he tells you to relax and then asks "what's wrong sweetheart?"

pervy stepbrother!suguru chuckles when you tell him you feel hot. his hands creep to rest on your thighs and you have to stifle a whine, but your effort to shove it back into your throat is unsuccessful, so it sounds like a sort of strangled choke. when he hears that noise, he coos in your ear and his hands squeeze your thighs lightly. "are you doing ok? do you need your big stepbrother to do something for you?" he's prompting you because he obviously knows what you want.

pervy stepbrother!suguru who has so much satisfaction seeing you like this. when you whisper the words, "help, suguru. i feel weird." he responds "where?"

pervy stepbrother!suguru has to hold back a groan when you tell him you feel weird "down there." he purrs in your ear and asks what you want him to do about it. and when you timidly tell him that you want him to touch you, he lets out a long, satisfied sigh. his fingers creep to your inner thighs and a trail of goosebumps follow in their wake. he can feel heat radiating off of you.

pervy stepbrother!suguru whose fingers slip under your skimpy pajama shorts and rest on your clothed cunt. he can already tell you're dripping wet. your breath hitches and he kisses your exposed neck and pushes down on your clit.

pervy stepbrother!suguru feels like teasing you, or rather, torturing you. "don't you think we should stop though?" he asks, innocently. "you're my stepsister, i don't think i should be touching you like this. doesn't it feel wrong?" but when you whine in response and start to beg shamelessly, his fingers start rubbing in circles on top of your clit. "okay, i'll touch you, but just this once. and you're already so hot and sticky down there. you really needed this, didn't you?"

pervy stepbrother!suguru who rubs his middle and ring finger back and forth over your thong, rubbing on your clit and brushing down your lips. when you squirm and start to make whining noises, he gets hard. you can't even tell because you're too lost in ecstasy already. he pulls your thong aside and plunges his two fingers inside before you even realize its happening. you let out a loud gasp and he shushes you. "quiet. don't want mom and dad to hear." you immediately shut up, and you're obviously out of it because you don't register that the house is completely empty and will be for at least a week.

pervy stepbrother!suguru who starts to finger fuck you ruthlessly with his long, pale, pretty fingers, swirling them around inside of you. he asks "is this helping you feel better?" and when you babble out incoherent nonsense, he tells you to use your words. "feels weird," you manage to answer finally with the utmost effort. he hums and presses on your gspot, making you moan and writhe on his lap, while he asks a follow-up question. "by weird, do you mean good?" you whimper and he knows that it's an affirmative.

pervy stepbrother!suguru who knows you get off on the filthiest dirty talk. "you're so fucking wet, i didn't know you wanted me this badly. and you're moaning so loudly, i think everyone is listening." he presses his fingers onto your hot and gooey spot and then pulls them out, circling your own slick over your clit while you shudder. "you'd like that, wouldn't you? if everyone heard."

pervy stepbrother!suguru who starts to lick and kiss your shoulder. it's almost too much, because the aphrodisiac has made you so sensitive. you feel like your skin is on fire and you can't think straight. you don't register that your step brother is knuckle deep and hard as a rock, you just know that he's making you feel better.

pervy stepbrother!suguru pulls his fingers out of you and shoves them into your mouth, so deep that you gag. he lets out a satisfied groan as you taste your own juices and then keeps fingering you. he can feel your thighs shake and shudder, he knows you're close. "needy little pussy is just swallowing my fingers up. you gonna cum soon? gonna cream on my fingers like a good little stepsister?"

pervy stepbrother!suguru whose words make you start to seize up. he circles and presses on your gspot relentlessly and sends you over the edge. while you convulse and throw your head back, your eyes roll back in your head and loud, obscene sounds leave your mouth. "everyone can hear you, gorgeous. do you think they're getting off, too? does it feel good knowing they're listening?"

pervy stepbrother!suguru who is shocked at how intense your orgasm is. your legs go limp and your mind goes blank. your arousal covers his hand and wrist, dripping down to soil a huge wet spot on the couch. he hums in your ear as he slowly finger fucks you through your orgasm, and when you've stopped writhing, he leaves his fingers inside, unmoving. he can feel your walls pulse and shake around him. "theeerrreee you go. dirty fucking girl."

pervy stepbrother!suguru who smiles when you whisper, mere seconds later, that you need more. he responds, "what else do you want, sweetheart?" and you choke out the answer as quietly as you can manage. you want his cock. and he has no problem obliging.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Red

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: sexual assault (not quite rape), angst, feeling uncomfortable by a man touching you, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A mission calls for you to find your inner vixen to get information from a man who is known to be a womanizer. Things don’t go according to plan, so Sam has to step up and take matters into his own hands. When Bucky hears about it, he turns to you knowing you need comfort in the safest way possible.

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x

The short black dress stares back at you in your closet with a knowing look. You don’t want to wear this. you don’t want to go on this mission. You’d rather spend the night cuddled up next to your boyfriend and watch movies. Instead, you’re going on a mission to essentially be a vixen, not in the literal sense where you have sex with someone but in the sense where you have to seduce the target to get what you want.

It's not ideal but this is the job.

The man in question is a womanizer and is high in the weapons world. He’s one of the most well-known weapons dealers across the country. He mostly deals out of his club but whenever authorities raid his club, they can’t find anything to nail him with. That’s when they called your team to do what they clearly can’t.

You yank the dress off the hanger and quickly put it on. You haven’t worn this since before you started going out with Bucky. You can remember wearing this to the club with your friends.  The material is a bit tighter than you remember but it’ll help you get what you want. You shift your boobs to make them pop more without having them completely spill out the top. You walk to your vanity and sift through your makeup.

Someone knocks on your door before walking in. You smile when you see it’s your boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” He has a frown etched onto his face, deeper than usual. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this plan.” You’re the only one who can get close to Mezzi. Anyone else would just tip him off. “Not that I don’t want you flirting with another man, but Mezzi is bad news. He treats women like shit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You set down your makeup brush and walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands automatically settle on your waist.

“I’m a professional, baby, and a really skilled spy. I’ve gotten bigger, more tougher men to talk for less. I’ve done this before. Plus, Sam and John will be there if anything goes wrong.”

The mention of the blonde man makes his frown deeper.

“I don’t like that John is going.”

“You don’t like anything he does.”

“There’s something dirty about him. He’s not a good man.”

You pull Bucky down toward you and kiss him, keeping the kiss short and sweet.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. It’s just another mission.”

Bucky slides one of his hands into your hair and kisses you for longer this time.

“Okay, I trust you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you grin and peck his lips once more.

You finish getting ready and leave with Sam and John to the car. Bucky leads his own team of soldiers who will wait outside until the cue is given. He would have gone in with you but Mezzi knows Bucky’s face. He would have ruined the entire mission before it could begin.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” you say. “I’ll go in first and distract him while you two go to the bar and pretend to be just like any other customer. Once I’m close, I’ll casually ask how my friend heard about his weapons and would like to buy some. Hopefully, he’ll be drunk enough to say where he keeps them which we would call in Bucky’s team.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam shrugs.

“We need a safe word,” you say.

“Why?” John asks.

“Because I’m a woman going in to seduce a womanizer who looks like he doesn’t like the word no. So, I need a safe word or I’m not going in.”

“Seems fair,” Sam says.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Red. I’ll work it into the conversation but if you hear me say that, move in immediately.”

John doesn’t say anything but nods in agreement. When you get to the club, you go in first. The place is already crowded with a bunch of people but you push past them all to get to the far end of the club. There is a section separated by curtains and guards which can only mean it’s the VIP section. Through the large slit in the curtains, you see Mezzi sitting back with both arms on the back of the couch.

Bingo.

You walk closer to the VIP section and start to move your body to the music. Sam and John walk in and head to the bar like they’re supposed to while keeping a close eye on you. You look up and meet Mezzi’s eyes through the slit and smirk at him. You’ve got his attention. You run your hands down your body and move sensually to the music. He leans forward and licks his bottom lip, already entranced by you.

He calls for one of his guards and whispers something to him while maintaining eye contact with you. The guard leaves and heads over to you, and you pull your eyes from Mezzi to look at the guard.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Lead the way,” you grin.

He allows you to pass into the VIP section, and Mezzi leans back with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Up close, you’re even more beautiful,” he grins. “Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He gets up and walks over to the mini bar to make your drink. You watch him carefully to make sure he doesn’t put anything in your drink, and you relax when he doesn’t. This place is so secluded from the rest of the club due to the curtains so anything can happen in here and no one would know about it. Luckily, you have Sam and John in your ear so you’ll be able to call for them if things get out of hand.

“Thank you,” you smile and accept the drink. He takes a seat next to you, a little bit closer than your liking. It’s okay. Pretend he’s Bucky. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so handsome before.”

“Oh, baby, there is no one else like me. You’ve come to the right section. I can blow your mind without even touching you.”

“Oh, really? Lucky me,” you giggle.

Mezzi reaches out and runs his hands over your exposed thighs, and you picture Bucky’s hands touching you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this for a mission, but it is the first time since you’ve been with Bucky. You respect him too much to do things like this, but there was no other way to get close to Mezzi.

“God, you’re so sexy. Best looking girl here.”

“You’re just saying that.”

His hands briefly slide up your dress before he moves it back down. “No, I’m not. When I see something I like, I make sure she knows about it.”

“Here’s to new opportunities,” you grin and hold your drink out to him. He raises his own drink and clinks it with yours, but he only takes a sip. He’s careful not to intake too much alcohol, especially when he’s involved in so much illegal shit. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“I have this friend who was asking about you.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, just a friend.” You reach over and dance your fingers across his chest, slightly sliding them through the buttons of his shirt. “He says you have a certain shipment he’d like to buy from you. He wouldn’t tell me more. He says you’d know what I was talking about.”

Mezzi’s attitude switches but it’s very subtle. You can see it in his eyes. He does not like that question. He slides his hand up your body and rests his palm over the hollowness of your throat. Not hurting you but letting you know he can hurt you if you piss him off.

“Well, you tell your friend if he wants something I have, then he should be the one asking for it, not sending his whore after me.”

“Now, that’s not very nice.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, baby, it was a compliment.”

He pulls you in closer so that you’re practically in his lap, and you suddenly grow uncomfortable. He has one thing on his mind and it’s not talking.

“Out of curiosity, what’s the shipment?” you ask, trying to get his mind somewhere else.

“Enough talking. You clearly came here for one thing and one thing only. I deliver on all of my promises, and I promise to make your time here worthwhile.”

He slides his hand up your dress and rests it very close to the one place you only ever want one man to go: Bucky. He leans in and presses kisses to your neck so lightly, and that’s when you panic. No mission is worth feeling like this. You don’t want to be here anymore.

“Red,” you blurt out.

“What?” he asks and pulls away.

“I like your red shirt. It’s very silky.”

“It looks better on the ground.”

Sam’s earpiece has been bothering him since he got here, so he’s trying to fix it. He should have gotten a new one when he had the chance since it’s not the first time this has acted up. John’s earpiece, however, works just fine. He hears your cry for help yet he does… nothing. He looks toward the VIP section and sips his drink casually.

“My favorite color is red,” you say with slight panic.

John can’t give away their position because Mezzi hasn’t given the location of his weapons yet. If they raid now, they might not have anything. Sam tweaks a few parts before putting it back in his ear. He smiles when it works but it’s lost when he hears your panicked voice.

“Has she been saying this? Why are you just sitting there?” Sam asks.

He gets up to rescue you but John grabs his arm.

“He hasn’t told her where the shipment is.”

“I don’t fucking care. Get your hand off me.”

Sam yanks his arm away and leaves to come to your rescue. John, on the other hand, finishes his drink leisurely.

Mezzi has you pinned to the couch with your dress bunched up at your hips. The only thing separating him from rape is a flimsy piece of cotton. You wish Bucky was here.

“Please stop,” you say, close to tears. “Red!”

He is about to silence you with a hand to your throat when he freezes. Sam places a gun to the back of his head.

“Let go of her.” Mezzi does and you scramble as far as you can get from him. You shake slightly and pull your dress down as much as it can go. “If you don’t want to get your head blown off, I’d suggest you tell us where your shipment is right now.”

“You’re bluffing,” he chuckles.

Sam moves the gun away from his head and aims it at his leg. He shoots once, and Mezzi jerks back in pain. The gun has a silencer on it so no one can hear how much Mezzi is in pain. The music drowns out his shouts of pain, and Sam moves the gun back to his head.

“Am I bluffing now?”

“In the basement, man. In the tunnels.”

“Come in, Buck. You’re up. It’s in the tunnels below,” Sam says into the earpiece.

“Copy that.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks you while keeping the gun on Mezzi.

“I think so,” you whisper.

“Go. We’ve got it handled from here.”

You don’t think twice about leaving. All you want is to go home, shower, and cry.

“Shame,” Mezzi groans in pain. “She looks like her pussy would be tight.”

Sam rears his fist back and punches Mezzi hard in the jaw. So hard that Mezzi passes out right there and then. Bucky and his men found the shipment and were able to arrest Mezzi and his men on the spot. With that much evidence, no judge would ever think about letting them go. The adrenaline has worn off and the shakes have replaced it. You were almost raped. You were sexually assaulted. You might be a trained spy but that all went out the window the second Mezzi forced you on your back.

The second Bucky heard about what happened, pissed doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Sam had to tell Bucky what John did because it was wrong of him to hear your safe word and do nothing about it. Bucky storms into home base and makes a beeline for John. He grabs his collar and yanks him violently toward him.

“You heard her safe word and did nothing about it?”

“I knew she had it handled! He didn’t tell her where the shipment was.”

“I oughta kill you,” Bucky growls. He grabs John’s throat with his metal hand and squeezes. “She’s my girlfriend, you bastard.”

John is no match for Bucky so he doesn’t even try to fight back. Bucky is about to do more damage when Sam walks into the room.

“She’s asking for you, Buck.”

Bucky lets John go, and the latter coughs violently. “Get him the hell out. He better be gone when I get back.” He leaves the room and walks into your bedroom. The shower is going in your bathroom, and he looks inside to see you sitting on the shower floor with your knees to your chest. “Y/N?” You don’t reply. He knows how scared you must be. “He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.”

Again, you don’t respond to him. He steps inside the running shower and turns off the water, not caring if he has water on his clothes. He wraps you in your fluffy towel and scoops you into his arms. He brings you to the bed and sits you down before going into your closet. He grabs one of his big hoodies and dresses you in it.

The second he has you in his arms, you bury your head in his chest and cry.

“Shh, I’m right here. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I was so scared,” you whimper. “I thought… I just wanted you.”

“I’m here now. I won’t let him touch you again. You’re safe now.”

Bucky smooths down your hair and allows you to cry as much as you need to. He won’t tell you what John did because that would only make you feel worse.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can rest knowing you’re protected. You’re safe now.”

“I love you,” you say and snuggle closer to him.

“I love you. Get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

That’s all the comfort you need. He makes you feel safe, and that’s all you can ever ask for.

x

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[themareverine]

DESIGNATED DRIVER ▹TEASER

— oldman!Logan x namelessfem!OC

SYNOPSIS: "Hey driver!" Tits, yeah—counts two of 'em. What Logan can't quite shake isn't the drunk-off-her ass's $20,000 tit job, or even the way his passengers embarrass themselves with shameless come-ons, stupid amounts of money. something else, entirely—a pretty little thing all done up in makeup and curls, wishing she were anywhere but third-wheeling a drunk hen party. "Sorry about my friend, she's—" "Didn't even notice her, honey."

warnings: flirting, drunkenness, flashing, maybe some oldman!logan inappropriate thoughts, maybe a kiss, general shyness/awkardness of that girl, language.

a/n: no thots, just this. i've had this in my brain for awhile, now. that one inevitable girl in the group that's the quiet, embarrassed, not-drinking friend catching his eye—the girl who never gets approached at the bar, the "hold your hair back when you puke up your guts" friend who tags along to feel wanted. it's me, i'm her.

too many irons in the fire but this is too much fun.

TEASER TEASER

Silence to stir the dead had followed after they’d eye fucked him into celibacy. Blissful, sweet as the Nile quiet. A creak of movement, the slip of skin on leather—her.

It’s her, the quiet-ish one.

Short brunette curls with highlights, icy blues peekaboo behind the lens of some-designer-he-didn’t-know frames. Defined collarbones in a hardly-strapped dress, big earrings. Sparkles, everywhere, blended into makeup that’s been on awhile but still looks good.

And she, she isn’t like the rest—not by a mile. How she moves, the way her lashes flutter. Doe-eyed and sweet. Logan doesn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone like her, any woman of the night dressed like this. Booking rides, swimming the neon. Doesn’t smell like sin, the kiss of color on her cheeks isn’t sticky makeup. It’s real, raw skin—true woman. Some rosacea shit or red undertones. Natural.

Peaches, this one smells like frickin’ peaches. Something floral.

She’s sweet. Saccharine, sugary. Like everything Logan’s forgotten. Pretty, in that girl-next-door kinda way—the way he’s always noticed, the way nobody else does. And what a pretty thing like her is doing in the back of his sinwagon, riding with Jezebels, hunting for trouble—he’ll never know. Shit.

And fuck, she’d leaned forward, pretty hands on the back of his seat.

Done up nails that look fake, but not cheap. Her eyes smiled at him through the glass of his rearview, as if this were a game. Good at it, she won—he blinked first. Offered him a little half smile, that dust of color on her nose darkening to an almost strawberry.

When his eyes hit hers again from attention on the road, icy blues ramped up like pulsing neon, unlike any he’d ever seen in two damn centuries. She’d reached across the back of the seat to gently nudge him with her elbow—hey. Quiet, true. Genuine. Rings clear in the little lift of her brow, the tip of her lips into a smile.

It should’ve sounded like something you gave to horses, hey. Hey. How does he even frickin’ respond? And it’s considerate, testing. Like wading into deep waters, unsure in a way that says she’s giving him space but isn’t afraid.

Nearly fucking polite.

tags: @th3mrskory @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.7

Summary: this one is pretty short and sweet, but Y/N makes the boys friendship bracelets.

“What colors do you want?” you ask Sirius who is sitting on the other side of the couch, picking out beads and charms that he likes. You were making little bracelets for you and the girls when Sirius walked in the living room and asked what you were up to. He cozied up next to you and watched as you intricately wove and knotted a pink, white, and green bracelet for Lily. Once you were finished he sweetly asked for one, and you of course agreed.

“Do you have red and black?” he asked, still sifting through the little charms.

“Of course,” you replied, “I also have this silvery color I think you’d like.” You lifted the string of the shimmery silver so he could see. His face lit up and he nodded. You cut three equal length strings in the colors he wanted and began tying knots.

He handed you three charms that he wanted: a star, a red guitar, and cherries. You couldn’t explain it, but those charms just made sense on a Sirius bracelet. 

He hovered over you, watching intently, sitting close enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. You enjoyed this small, quiet moment with Sirius. You felt like you didn’t get them often, but when they happen, it leaves you with a warm feeling all over.

“Could you teach me how to make one?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just grab some colors and copy me.” you turned to face him, legs criss-crossed, knees touching his. 

“Ok, just go slow.” he said.

You smiled and showed him the basic knots and loops he had to copy, at a much slower pace, making sure your work was on clear display for him to follow. “See you make a ‘4’ with the strings, and make sure it is tight so that you can see the pattern,” you explained, “and then you move to the next string.”

“W-wait, slow down.” he laughed.

“Keep up, slow poke.” you laughed back. In all fairness, he did try, but somewhere along the way it all went wrong. 

The bracelet, if you could call it that, turned into some sort of knotted ball, strings hanging loose. You bit your lip and turned away to stop from laughing.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” he said, this just made you hide your face in your hands to muffle the giggles coming out. “Stop it! I tried so hard!” he said, fake pouting. 

“Oh it’s lovely Siri,” you laughed, holding out your wrist for him to tie it to. It looked like something a cat would play with, but you were genuinely proud of him for trying. He grabbed ahold of your wrist and secured it, a goofy smile cut across his face. You loved to see it, loved that he was comfortable to be silly around you, himself around you.

“Ok, ok my turn.” you say to him. He closed his eyes and held out his wrist, the same way you did. You tied the bracelet around his wrist, knotting it to make sure he could take it off when he wanted. “Ok look!”

He opened his eyes. His smile grew and he looked quite pleased. “I love it.” he said, eyes not moving from the strings. There it was again, that warm little feeling. "You gotta tie it tighter so it wont come off." you nodded and tightened it. You thought surely he would take it off soon after you put it on, but maybe you thought wrong.

You heard footsteps make their way downstairs. You looked up seeing Remus, still in pajamas and hair a bit messy. 

“Morning sunshine.” Sirius shot at him. Remus yawned and made his way over to the pair of you. It wasn’t irregular for him to sleep in so late, usually allowing himself a day of rest once a month, you figured it was because he always stayed up so late and he was trying to fix his sleep schedule.

“Hi Remmy,” you greeted him.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, voice groggy and deep.

“We are making bracelets, Y/N is teaching me.” Sirius said, holding his wrist up for Remus to see.

Remus took Sirius’s hand and held it close, examining your work. He smiled at you. “Fine craftsmanship, I see,” he said jokingly.

“Would you like one? I can make one for you as well.” you asked. It would not take long at all, you had made hundreds before.

He nodded. “Course I would like one, love.”

You beamed up at him, clapping your hands eagerly. “Pick out the colors and charms you’d like.” you ordered him.

He chose green, brown, and a yellowy tan color. The colors much like the sweaters he often wears. He picked out a singular charm, a crescent moon, and the letters spelling out ‘moony’.

“Moony?” you asked. He was now sitting on the armchair, sitting sideways, long legs dangling over the arm’s edge. 

He chuckled, supplying you with a short, “It’s a nickname.”

“But why-” you were interrupted with the front door opening and James swooping in, always the tornado. He was out of breath and sweaty, just coming back from a jog.

“Hello! I need to shower- Ah Remus nice to see you’re finally awake, anyways after that I want to make dinner-Chicken and pasta alright?” he asked, so fast paced and chaotic, the way he always was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what you were doing, coming to the back of the couch and looking over. “What is that?” he asked.

“A bracelet, I made one for Sirius and now one for Remus. Sirius made me one too, which I love and am very proud of.” you held up your arm for James to see the yarn ball dangling halfway on your wrist. James and Remus both burst into laughter, Sirius chuckling along with them. 

“Well that's not fair,” James said, “if you are making friendship bracelets, I want one too.”

You giggled at the slight childishness of that statement, but  replied, “Fine, you pick out some colors and charms too.”

James picked red, yellow, and white for his colors and two tiny gold charms; a sun and a lightning bolt. The sun made sense for him, he was always the light and warmth within the house, bright and happy. The lightning bolt however…

“Why the lightning bolt?” you asked, straining your neck all the way back to look at him above the couch.

He smiled down at you and shrugged. “No clue, I just think it’s cool.”

Taglist 💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts

[fushiguruuzzzz]

ix ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Duck Pond Days 

Series mlist 

Tags — mention of suicide, fat jokes again (panda will never escape) 

Words — 1.6k 

“Ow, shit!” 

The shrill voices of stupid students rang through the grassy expanse of the park, creating an echo of obnoxiously happy losers. By now, you were certain Toge and Yuji had given themselves concussions. Yuji somehow got the bright idea to spin the merry-go-round at full speed and attempt to jump off. Toge had (unsurprisingly) jumped on the opportunity to participate, resulting in both of them lying on the ground like squashed bugs (and probably lacking the brain cells to be considered much more anyway). 

You’d expected them to get along, but this was more than you’d anticipated. This was a good thing, of course, but you could feel their stupidity seeping into you from all edges the more their laughter circled through the air. It was captivating, the moment. It was as if it was only you, your big group of people who were too free for their own good, and the blur of colours that was the bright metal of the playground. The sun had began to set, the streetlights reflecting from every surface, every direction surrounding you. 

You were breathing heavily, gasps of air falling from your lips. Considering you’d spent the past hour constantly evading death by arrogance, you had to admit that you were somewhat tuckered out. Though your moment of peace was interrupted, a childish whine cutting through the air and catching your attention. “[name], help!” Nobara fussed, lazily reaching for you as she was dragged to the swingset by an overly happy Yuji. He seemed to be in his element, as odd as that felt saying. 

You grinned, shaking your head. She let out a gasp of feigned shock, crying out dramatically. “You’re such a traitor!” You could only laugh, shoving your hands into the shallow pockets of your pants. You were left alone now, the bustling group of people –that being everyone except for Yuta, Maki, and Megumi– moving from one place to the next. You twiddled with the lint within the fabric of your pockets, hoping the small action would at help with the cold, placebo or not. Winter was creeping in, rigid and frosty, freezing the tips of your fingers and leaving nothing but stiff nubs in their place. You should’ve worn a coat, or something thicker than the thin, hoodless sweater you were wrapped in now. A shiver crawled over your skin, a cold gust of air blowing past you. 

“Are you cold?” Yuta asked from behind you, making you startle a bit. He’d always been somewhat an observer, something that was both a blessing and a curse. You shrugged, though the goosebumps rising beneath your sleeves spoke louder. “A bit,” you responded, knowing there wasn’t much of a point in denying it. It wasn’t like he could help much, anyway, he’d not worn a coat himself. 

“You should try moving around, it helps,” he smiled, his tired eyes shining with warmth. You nodded, offering a smile back, a breath leaving your nose. And then he went back to his conversation with Maki, that shine in his eyes seeming to brighten the moment he turned back at her. All doughy and sweet. 

You turned away, feeling as if you were interrupting something. You glanced around, taking in everything around you and what you could do. Your eyes landed on a bench nearby, one of few in the area. That would be nice, a place to sit and breathe for a moment. One problem, though. One of the spaces was occupied by a dark figure, one you’d grown to recognize all too well. It wouldn’t be weird for you to sit, would it? Ah, fuck it. You’d never been one to care much for what was “weird”, what about this was different? 

It was only a few short strides over to the little structure, the soft click of your shoes against the concrete just barely sounding through the area. There was a soft noise as you sat down, one that alerted the boy next to you of your presence. He glanced up, the swirling sea that was his eyes meeting yours. It was silent for a moment, though it didn’t seem out of place. More like words didn’t need to be said, not now. 

“You aren’t one for the playground?” you asked, the corners of your mouth upturning into a soft smirk. 

“Not necessarily,” he replied, something akin to a chuckle leaving his lips. The two of you glanced back at everyone else, both the duo that had broken off and the group of idiots, a clump of people that was larger in mass. The day was growing darker, undeniably so, but the light of their spirits did much more to brighten the place than the days light. Perhaps the sun itself even quivered as it gazed upon the way they illuminated the space.

In the peaceful solitude of his presence, you couldn’t help but be reminded of the time when it was just you and Megumi. Freshly teenagers, on the rare occasion you’d hang out (not including what might as well have been nurse training), you’d often find yourselves at the park near your houses. You’d make a stop at the convenience store nearby, pick up a drink or something to snack on, of which he’d silently insist he paid for. Sometimes, he’d actually end up smacking your hands away from the register. A gentleman, pride, or just daddy’s money? A mystery you’ve yet to solve, even years later. 

After your run to the store, the two of you would walk down the street, being met with the somewhat grassy plains that blanketed the ground. You’d have small conversations about anything and everything, and oddly, it was one of few times you saw him that he wasn’t so guarded. Didn’t constantly act like he was ready to defend himself, if the need came. He was docile, almost. Not like a dog, but a loyal wolf, one that bared its teeth at all but one. 

You’d always stop to feed the ducks. It became ritual. So you’d feed them your bread and smile as they took the offering, that sliver of unity turning into light in the depths of your irises, and you’d always miss the way his eyes reflected it as he watched you. Sure, he didn’t mind the ducks. They were cute, even. But the domestic joy of them as they fed had nothing on you. If only you’d ever known. 

Snapping out of your little daze, you glanced back at him. As he caught your eye for that split second before he looked away, you saw a glimpse of the past within his. It was almost as if he was remembering, too. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he said casually, pushing himself from the bench and onto his feet. Your eyes trailed after him, after every movement of his body as he extended to his full height. You let a hum vibrate in your throat, not knowing much else to respond with. 

He took a few steps forward, then just barely glanced back at you over his shoulder. “You coming?” 

Your head turned up to him, and it took you a moment to process his words. It was a simple question, really, you didn’t know what had you short circuiting. With a furrow of your brow and a hurried nod, you stood. “Yeah, yeah sure.” 

-

The walk wasn’t all that eventful, but it was enough. Enough for the two of you, at least. You could appreciate the peace. You even passed by the duck pond, and though empty, it was a little something that made a familiar smile tug at your lips. Something that made his eyes land on you, made your surroundings flicker with what seemed to be the familiarity of the moment. Of each other. 

You glanced back at him, hearing the sound of a zipper and the soft rub of fabric on itself. You were met with the sight of a heap of black material being held out to you. You looked up at him questioningly, tilting your head to the side. 

“You told Yuta you were cold.” 

You blinked up at him for a moment, recalling that yes, indeed you’d told Yuta that. He’d been listening? Wow, quite the attentive one he was. Hesitantly, you took it from him, pushing your arms through the sleeves as you wrapped his jacket around you. “Thank you,” you said softly, a smile returning to your face. He just nodded, humming as you once again fell into step beside each other. 

The figures of your friends grew closer in the dark of the approaching night, their faces all turning in your direction as the echo of your swift steps reached their senses. You were pulled from your conversation, the voices of your friends far too frantic for the moment, in your opinion. Or at least the voice of Yuji. 

“Where were you?” Maki asked calmly, a contrast to the other vocals piercing through your ears. “Isn’t it obvious?” Toge began with a grin. “She was-“ he said, followed by a pathetic string of muffled words as Yuta slapped a hand over his mouth. 

“I thought you died,” Yuji gasped, placing a hand on his forehead. You and Megumi shared a look, as if to say many things that couldn’t be voiced. You rolled your eyes, though amusement painted across your lips as you took in his dramatics. He was funny, at least he was that much. 

Maki sighed, though her annoyance was obviously not pure. She shook her head at the antics of the others, nodding to you. “We’re gonna get going.” Ah, that was right. You’d driven together. You nodded, looking back to Megumi who had fallen a few steps behind you. 

“Well, okay. Bye, Fushiguro,” you said. Something in his jaw ticked, and you could almost see the thoughts in his eyes. “What?” you said softly, so that it was only between the two of you. 

“That’s not my name,” he said, a concealed bitterness behind his nonchalant tone. You’d always called him Megumi when you were younger, but that felt oddly casual now. Especially since his own best friends referred to him by his last name. 

You let out a breath, a mix of a laugh and a sigh. “Sorry. Bye, Megumi,” you said. And with a small wave, you left. You almost caught the way satisfaction washed over him, the way it blanketed him as he began to feel something warm residing in his chest. 

It wasn’t until you’d settled in the leather of Maki’s passenger seat that you remembered his jacket. Oh well, you’d just have to meet with him again to return it. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @qingpunk @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @rreveurdoll @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes

Chat please stop threatening to kill yourselves and others the angst won’t kill you. ENOUGH also said mention of angst also butterfly effected a ghost into haunting me did yall know that ⁉️ I’m on ep 10 of aot ts peak gonna be my personality for a while anyway this was all written in one sitting and im half asleep so uh oops

[rosie-rosem]

no doubt

❥ pairing: husband!dad!heeseung x pregnant!wife!mom!reader

❥ genre: smau!, married!au, parents!au, comfort, angst(ish)& fluff

❥ warnings: mentions of petnames (love, sweetheart & baby), pregnancy symptoms, feeling doubt, crying, mentions of being ugly, grammatical errors, not proofread, lmk if i missed something!!

———————————————————————

WC: 800

A/N: ok so it’s been a WHILE. like always, it takes me months just to get out a short fic like this 🙄 i’m so annoying and i’m so sorry. but anyway, this is for the anon who asked for a long version of the text message fic but this is more about early pregnancy symptoms and that kinda stuff, so hopefully this meets your expectations <<333 again so sorry for taking MONTHS!! also, the no doubt reference ;).

Just 2 months ago you and heeseung found out you were pregnant. It was a big shock and you felt quite scared, but heeseung quickly reassured you that you would get through it together and that he was gonna be there the whole time.

That eased your nerves a bit, but you still will always have those worries about becoming a mother and growing and birthing a child.

So far, you had been a little nauseous and had mood swings here and there, but tonight was the worst nausea you’ve had yet.

You sat up, feeling uncomfortably sick, you turned to Heeseung seeing him sleeping peacefully, you didnt want to wake him so you quietly and quickly go out of bed and ran to the bathroom before sitting by the toilet, feeling the need to puke but not being able to. You felt like crying from just the inconvenience and sick feeling coursing through your body.

After a while of sitting on the floor by the toilet, you suddenly heard the bathroom door opening.

You turned your head to see a worried heeseung. “Sorry to wake you” you groaned to yourself. He shook his head “don’t worry about me sweetheart. Are you feeling sick?” He crouched down next to you, rubbing your back softly. You nodded.

“Is there anything i can do to help?” He asked sweetly. “Could you get me some water?” You asked to which he quickly nodded and got up to get the water. After he returned he handed you the glass and you slowly drank the liquid. “Better?” He asked. “Yeah, thanks hee.” You hummed.

He stayed by your side for a while more, rubbing your shoulders and back to hopefully soothe you.

Suddenly you felt extremely nauseous again and aimed for the toilet. heeseung noticed this and quickly grabbed your long hair to avoid it from getting in the way, still rubbing and patting your back.

Once you finished, you started crying from the uncomfortable feeling and doubts you were having. “What’s wrong love, why are you crying?” He asked, turning you to face him, before wiping your hot tears.

“I hate this hee..” you cried. “i know love, I’m sorry.” He frowned at seeing you so upset. “What if i cant be a good mother to this baby?” You said. He cupped one of your cheeks, rubbing it softly. “You will be a good mother y/n. You are the sweetest, most patient person i know, and i know you’ll be the most amazing mother to this baby.” He comforted.

You looked at him before crying again. “You’re probably tired.” You said. He sighed, “Me? Baby you’ve been sitting here for how long now? You don’t need to worry about me right now, I’m doing just fine and I want to be here for you when you aren’t feeling good.” You frowned and his sweet words. “Here have some more water.” He said, handing you the glass.

After about an hour later, you were finally feeling better, and wanting to go back to bed.

After heeseung cleaned you up a bit, he walked you over the the bed and tucked you in before getting in bed beside you. He wrapped his arm around you, resting it on your tiny, growing bump. You quickly fell asleep, feeling exahausted from the past few hours.

____

In the morning, you woke up to the feeling of Heeseung’s warm body pressed against yours. His steady breathing was like a lullaby, and you couldn’t help but smile as you turned to face him. How did you manage to get stuck with someone as perfect as him, you thought. Your hand drifted to his hair, brushing softly through the strands. Just act of touching him filled you with warmth.

Heeseung’s eyes fluttered open at the soft touch, and he smiled sleepily at you. “Mmm, good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. You quickly pulled your hand back, startled at having woken him. “Sorry,” you apologized, feeling embarrassed.

He chuckled lightly, his hand finding yours and guiding it back to his hair. “Don’t be, it felt good,” he said, his eyes soft with affection. You gave a small smile before continuing to rub his head.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, rubbing up and down your waist. You nodded. “A lot better, yeah.” You said. Heeseung sighed, as if he had been holding his breath in worry the entire night. “I’m glad. I hate seeing you like that.

“Because I look ugly?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no. Not because of that at all. I just feel bad that I can’t do more to help. Seeing you in pain makes me feel helpless, that’s all.”

You chuckled softly, the tension in your chest easing. “I was just kidding, but I appreciate it, Hee. You always know how to make me feel better.”

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “No more doubting yourself, okay?” He said. You sighed, feeling the weight of your worries lift slightly. “I’ll try,” you whispered.

“That’s all i need to hear. We are gonna be good parents y/n, i promise.” He smiled “youre gonna be a perfect dad, no doubt.” You giggled. “Same goes for you.” He kissed you softly.

———————————————————————

© rosie-rosem

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweet Like Candy 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You knock on the door of Professor Odinson’s door then check your smartwatch. You’ve been anxious all day about the meeting. After the quiz, he sent you a quick email saying he’d like to talk about it with you. You were the first done and you’re pretty sure you aced it! 

You wait and bounce on your feet. You tap the door again. You’re not that early. You hear the floor groan and stand straight the rippled glass darkens with a silhouette on the other side. 

The door opens and you beam a smile, “good afternoon, Professor--” you nearly choke on your tongue. “Oh, Professor Barnes.” 

He blinks at you, his face sharp with agitation, “Odinson isn’t here.” 

“Uh, oh, but I have an appointment,” you show your phone, “I can show you the email.” 

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles. He backs up and drags his feet back to his desk, muttering, “...always late...” He sits heavily and sighs. “You can wait over there.” 

He waves towards Odinson’s empty desk and you peer between him and that. He grabs his coffee cup and growls as he looks inside. He sighs again and stands. 

You enter, eager to be out of his way, and he strides out the door with another grunt. You sway and look around. You feel like an intruder. Still, you can’t just leave. Odinson will be here soon. 

You sit in the velvet chair across from his desk and swing your feet. You wiggle impatiently and admire the ornaments on his desk. There’s some runes and a little hammer. 

The smell of coffee wafts in with the other professor. Barnes sits down and takes a long draw from his mug. He sets it down with a clink. The tension coils like a boa constrictor, tightening your throat and spine. 

You turn your phone up and bow your head. You unlock it. Won’t be much longer, you know it. 

You flick through with your thumb and glaze over as you watch the short videos. You swipe up and up and up. You giggle mindlessly as a kitten attacks a stuffed rabbit. Barnes exhales heavily. 

“Rots your brain...” he remarks dryly. 

“Hm?” You look at him over your shoulder. 

“All those dumb apps. You’re like a robot, sitting there, laughing at those stupid things,” he sneers. 

“I... It’s not dumb,” you argue and turn away from him. “Sorry, I’ll be quiet.” 

“And sit still. You’re distracting.” 

You frown and watch the kitten again. Why is he so grumpy? You didn’t do anything. His fingers hit his keys hard and you grow irritated at his unspoken anger. Odinson is the one that’s late. 

“Here,” you stand and march over to his desk, “maybe the stupid video will cheer you up.” 

You shove your phone next to his monitor and he ignores it. You roll your eyes. “Come on, it’s a kitty! Everyone loves kitties.” 

He shakes his head, focusing on his screen. You push the phone closer. He catches your hand and squeezes. His gaze flits over to your phone. He watches it without reaction. 

“Kittens grow up to be cats. A responsibility,” he lets you go. “Something I’m sure you don’t understand.” 

You furrow your nose, “I’m being nice. You don’t have to be... not nice.” 

“I’m working.” He insists. 

You have no argument for that. You shrug and go back to the chair. You stare at the wall behind Odinson’s desk and the degree mounted there. 

“Ah, apologies,” a storm blusters through the door in the form of Professor Odinson. “There is some event on campus and I was caught up.” 

“Professor,” you stand politely. 

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” he hurries to his desk and drops his bag. “Apologies, again. Oof, it smells like coffee. I could use a cup.” He smiles and stills himself, “and how are you?” 

“Good, Professor.” 

“A poor look to be late,” he chides himself and sits. He puts his bag in his lap and flips it open. “I do hope Professor Barnes was adequate company during your wait.” 

Barnes grumbles. You don’t say a word. Odinson sifts through his bag. 

“If you would prefer privacy, we might find an empty room,” he suggests as he pulls out a cluster of stapled papers. You recognise the sparkly gel pen on it. 

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. 

“Mm, right,” he sets his bag on the floor and rolls his chair closer to the desk. “Well, with your consent, I shall proceed.” He smooths the paper. That’s when you see the red pen all over it. You show your teeth. Maybe it would have been a better idea to be alone. 

“It is only the first quiz, so early on,” he begins. “Yet, I would hate for the rest to go... worse.” He clears his throat and hands you the pages. “I have posted it on the course page but there will be extra review sessions for those who feel they need them. Learning a new language can be difficult.” 

You cringe at the 20% at the top of the page. You’ve never done so poorly in your life. You’re a straight C type of girl. 

“Oh,” you deflate. Once more, you were over confident. You really felt good about that and oh gosh, you’re so embarrassed. “Thanks, I’ll go...” you agree as you stare at the paper. “I’m sorry, I really studied.” 

“Like I said, new language,” he comforts. “I just wanted to offer you any extra support you feel you might need. I have an open door policy--” 

Barnes snorts behind you. You wince. 

“Thank you, Professor, that’s really nice,” you gulp and clutch your fuzzy purse. “I should... go. I... I have to do a few things before my next class.” 

“Right, yes, as you will. Again, I apologise for keeping you waiting,” he says. 

“Yeah,” your voice cracks even as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “It’s no problem.” 

You make yourself smile and stand. You turn and your eyes meet Barnes. He’s watching you. He doesn’t shy away as your cheek twitches. He looks almost amused. 

“Maybe some more kitten videos might help with studying,” he comments. 

“Eh?” Odinson utters. 

“Maybe,” you agree glumly and your lips tug down. “Sorry to bother. Both of you.” 

You turn and quickly flee the office. For as kind as Odinson was about your unabashed failure, Barnes was entirely cruel. You tried so hard and he could just grin mockingly. You don’t know what you did to make him so mean. 

[professionalasker121]

#IIRK it was PG-13 but still#tearing a guy in half is usually R lol

Oh sweet summer child. They've been doing this since 1986.

The first animated film alone got away with violently gunning down several major characters in the first 10 minutes! Including one barely offscreen shot of Megatron shooting Ironhide's head point blank. With the Fusion Cannon. One character is blasted so hard he's burnt into a charred crisp that crumbles to dust. Another explodes.

In the third season, Optimus shows up as a zombie whose body is horribly mangled onscreen.

Beast Wars had a character get stabbed in the heart, leading to him exploding. Then the character who did the stabbing's destroyed remains float to the surface. Another is hit by an explosion and has his charred head shown next episode.

Armada had Optimus crumble into dust in one episode. In Energon Hot Shot briefly loses an arm. In Prime, a character is stabbed to death in the first episode, has his corpse resurrected as a zombie, which is then dismembered.

And that's not going into the many many times someone was maimed in a way. Or the tamer deaths that they could never have done.

In short, Transformers has always gotten away with a lot of violence they'd never be able to get away with if the characters were human.

Another thing I really have to give TF One credit for is the sheer amount of violence they got away with by virtue of all their characters being robots. Like, where else could our deuteragonist-turned-final-boss literally rip the villain in half on-screen and walk away with a PG rating?

[moonstrider9904]

Show Me Those Pretty White Jaws

Crosshair x Female Reader one-shot

Summary: Crosshair is used to getting any woman he wants, but when he can't get together with you, things are bound to get tense.

Word Count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: SMUT 18+. Minors are not allowed here. Pining, jealousy, foul language, alcohol consumption. Love confessions, soft!Crosshair, flirting, being approached at a bar, playboy falling in love trope. The reader is a woman and described with short hair, but no other details are given except for she is also shorter than Crosshair. PiV sex, a bit of sub!Crosshair.

Playlist: Jaws and Rain by Sleep Token i promise you these songs are so crosshair coded and it hurts

One shot masterlist | Main masterlist | Read on Ao3

Dividers by @stars-n-spice

Sweet and smoky whisky filled his senses as he pulled his glass up to his mouth and tilted it to let the burning liquid warm his throat. Ever watchful, the GAR’s finest sniper examined the surroundings from his post on his usual booth facing the whole bar, his back pressed against the cushion where he sat. There in the noisy 79’s bar, there were dozens of faces similar to his, though none quite like him—a factor that greatly stroked his pride. Along the sea of bar goers, various feminine faces and features glanced and smiled at him, many of whom he had already met and taken back to his place. Crosshair never liked a sure thing, however. He liked the thrill of the chase, the excitement of seeking out and then succeeding.

Brown, piercing eyes finally landed on a figure that hadn’t caught his attention before. Your petite frame was angled away from him as you sat at the bar, and all he saw was the loosely-fitting black sweater draping over delicate curves, and short wavy hair stopping above her shoulders. You appeared to be by yourself, though it wasn’t long before Crosshair saw your frame moving as though you were talking, and the bartender finally made her way to stand in front of you, visibly responding to whatever you’d said. There you exchanged words for a moment, and the bartender was then called away by a soldier in need of a drink, but it didn’t seem the conversation between you two had ended for your body angled itself in the direction of your friend, letting Crosshair see more of your features with clarity.

He stopped sipping his whisky. In a quick glance, Crosshair was able to take it all in—the details of your outfit, the pronunciation of each curve of your body, the way the lights of the bar illuminated your silhouette, the shape of your eyes and your lips. There was something about you that made you stand out from the rest of the crowd, a softness, a delicate quality to you that made him wonder why you were at a bar instead of a cozy book shop. But he wouldn’t continue to question your presence there. The fact that you were was all the more lucky for Crosshair, and he resolved to make you his next unforgettable memory.

Crosshair downed the remainder of his drink with one last, swift gulp and set the glass on his table with a clank. He stood up and began making his way through the crowded dance floor; the sheer amount of people there made him grateful he was in civvies rather than his armor, despite the fact that his full armor always did him more favors when it came to impressing a lady. After a certain number of conquests, Crosshair had noticed the attention from a potential mate always seemed to gravitate towards his shoulders, chest, and waist, with the appendage on his left shoulder pad always earning him curious, beady-eyed questions about what it was like to be a sniper, questions he always replied with a seductive smirk and charming play at how lonely of a position it was, one he’d already memorized and learned it never failed—not only was his armor practical for a sniper, but his role as one captivated.

He wasn’t that far away from the bar now. The closer he got, the better he could make out the details of your smile, and finally he was close enough to hear your laughter above the other noise. Just a couple steps away, fate shone on him in the form of you glancing in his direction, and for a moment, Crosshair stopped. Your hair framed your pretty face better than anyone he’d ever seen, and your eyes were the most genuine specs of light in the entire bar, not unlike stars putting a city skyline to shame. Your eyes fell right on his, and as if Crosshair hadn’t been convinced already, your lips curved into a smile, one that showed him your pretty pearly whites and shone with knowing and confidence and a hint of spunk that beautifully contrasted with your overall tender aura, and enticed him to find out where that softness ended to become pure fire. His own lips flashed his signature seductive smirk at you, and though his eyes followed in that intention, his curiosity bled into his gaze, betraying how much he wanted to succeed in at least being worthy of knowing your name.

Dammit, Crosshair was certain he had to have you.

The intense longing lasted for merely an instant before you turned away from him and gave your attention to your bartender friend again, but Crosshair knew the night had just begun. He reached the bar and positioned himself to your left, not making any contact with you at first. The bartender glanced over at Crosshair, and the latter requested another glass of neat whisky. Before obliging to the request, the bartender quickly eyed you and retreated to get a glass, leaving you seemingly wide open for the sniper to make his move.

Crosshair then turned his back to the bar and glanced to his left side over at you with the look he already knew would work—he was gorgeous, and he knew it. He noticed you smirking as though you were holding in a chuckle, and finally, you met his gaze.

“Never seen you here, beautiful,” Crosshair opened, his voice smooth and deep. “Mind if I buy you your next drink?”

“I’d just finished for the night,” you smirked back.

“Ah, what a pity,” Crosshair answered just as the bartender handed him his glass of whisky. Crosshair took it and sipped it without breaking eye contact with you, and then he set it down again. “I hope you’ll stay with me while I finish mine then. You’d be making my whole night.”

You let out a gentle laugh and glanced momentarily at your friend, the bartender, and the sound of your laughter shook Crosshair’s confidence. He decided to push through it, though.

“Five,” you answered.

“Care to let me in on what that means, sweetheart?” Crosshair leaned in slightly towards you.

“Okay,” you got up from your chair and stood next to him, revealing your height to be much shorter than his, a trait he found endearing. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re handsome and everything, but I’ve already heard you using that line five times.”

Crosshair raised a brow at you and, silently, sipped his whisky again. “Is that so?”

“It’s not such a big compliment for your opening line to be ‘never seen you here’ when I’ve actually been here many times,” you smirked at him. “I don’t care how many pet names you add at the end of the sentence.”

Crosshair couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he took another sip from his drink. “I knew there was a fire to you. How about you show me what those pretty jaws can do?”

“I’ll bite,” you answered. “Every time I’ve come to this bar to chat with my good friend here, I see you perform the same exact dance, each time with a different pretty face. I know your type, and I’m not going to be another one of your little trophies.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Crosshair hummed, downing his drink and setting his glass down without asking for a refill—if he played his cards right, he wouldn’t need another one. He leaned down slightly closer to you, looming over you with a seductive glint in his eye. “You know what’s going on here, and I like it when a girl packs a brain.”

“Is that so?” You smirked at him, tilting your head to give your eyes an enticing look.

“Yeah,” Crosshair’s airy voice softened, betraying him once again as it let you know just how much he desired you. “Now, wouldn’t we be perfect together, sweetheart? Just tell me your name.”

Crosshair’s hand slowly, almost doubtfully, made its way up to your chin, his touch soft in a way that would let you swat him away if you wanted to, but finally his fingertips made contact with your skin. As he tilted your face up to him, your endearing smile widened, and your body wiggled so softly he wasn’t sure if you’d done it on purpose or not, but he loved the way you moved. Your smile made it hauntingly clear to him—he was done for. He’d replay that image in his mind for years to come. Then, your eyes met his again, and Crosshair noticed that you were angling yourself closer to him, painfully slowly, and he matched your pace in leaning down closer to you. He was sure he’d won, and any second now he’d feel your lips against his, he’d learn what your name was and pronounce those syllables in his mind repeatedly until he could have you in his arms and his body with yours, and he’d continue to do so since.

Instead, you pressed an index finger to his lips, and your seductive look was replaced by one of knowing, even a little mischief.

“Not gonna happen,” you whispered, and you pressed your hand towards his chest, pushing him away from you enough to walk past him and leave.

An army led by a tactical droid had never caught him as off guard as you just had, and the disappointment was visible in Crosshair’s features. He closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows together with evident regret, and a sharp exhale accompanied his strain. All that was left for him to do when his eyes opened was to watch you leave, but you’d bolted so fast that he wouldn’t be able to do that.

“Damn,” a voice filled his ears.

It was your friend, the bartender, staring at him and visibly struggling to contain laughter.

“What?” Crosshair hissed.

“Can tell that one hurt. You’ve been rejected before, mate,” they said. “Never seen you make that face.”

The bartender then poured another glass of Crosshair’s favorite whisky and set it on the bar in front of him. Crosshair couldn’t help but direct a puzzled look at them.

“That one’s on the house,” the bartender stated. “My condolences.”

Crosshair was unamused by the bartender’s banter—the fact that they were your friend gave him the awful premonition that you’d be hearing about this in the future—but he accepted the free whisky and downed it all in one gulp as if it were a shot. He placed the empty glass on the bar and returned to his usual booth, alone, disgusted at his failure and at the fact that he knew he wouldn’t get your gaze out of his mind for the rest of the night.

He wasn’t able to do it for the many nights that followed.

There were some nights he did see you at the bar, and there were nights he didn’t. The nights you weren’t there were worse—though he gave you your space when you were both at the bar, he couldn’t help but find solace in knowing you were there seeing a friend at the bar instead of a lover. When you were nowhere to be found, he found his mind wandering and clinging on to all the possibilities, all the men you could be with, men who hadn’t thrown away their shot with you without even knowing it, without even valuing it.

And he still didn’t even know your name.

You—despite the fact that you had lost track of how long it had been since the cocky gray-haired sniper had made his move on you—would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him. You were proud of standing up for yourself and your beliefs, and of not stooping down to a level of one more on the list of meaningless conquests at a bar, but the image of his enticing eyes had made its way into your mind in the course of those weeks. You’d thought back to the whisky on his breath, the way his teeth bared ever so slightly when he smirked, and how his chest felt under your hand when you pushed him out of your way.

It hurt, truly, that he was so careless with his own feelings, and the feelings of whomever he deemed attractive. But a part of you didn’t dare think of what things would be like if he was the relationship kind of man. Maybe you wouldn’t even be his first option in that scenario.

You found yourself at the bar on your usual spot, holding your usual drink in your hand, but its cool temperature had already caused the glass to sweat, and a thin ring of water had already appeared around the base. On any normal night, your drink wouldn’t last that long resting on the bar, and around you, everyone seemed to be getting their orders faster, a testament to your lack of chatter.

Finally, your friend the bartender approached you and crouched slightly to meet your downtrodden gaze. “No refunds for unconsumed drinks, I don’t care how sad you are.”

Your first instinct was to chuckle. “What, sad? Of course not!”

They raised an eyebrow at you and, from under the bar, pulled out a bottle of what seemed like hard liquor. “Maybe a shot of this will get you talking.”

You chuckled again, more genuinely than last time, and your whole body seemed to soften as you finally let your guard down. “No fair, you’re a bartender. Your expertise to read emotions is unmatched.”

“I like what I do,” said the bartender. “You’ve been getting more upset progressively. What happened?”

You looked up at them and sighed, taking a sip from your drink and setting it down again. “I’ve… lately, I’ve felt a bit lonely.”

“Dating scene’s hard, eh?”

“Not just that,” you said, tilting your head in reconsideration. “Actually, yeah, it’s just that. We’re at an age where we can, in theory, choose who we want to be with. But what happens when the person you want to get to know and maybe get intimate with is a total playboy who will most likely not see you the same way? What happens when being with the person you want to be with also means being at your most vulnerable and risking being cast aside by him?”

The bartender set the bottle of liquor down and their eyes widened at you.

“No way,” they said. “The sniper.”

You groaned and shrank in your seat, crossing your arms and leaning forward on the bar. “Yes. The sniper.”

“Baby girl, he is right there,” they said.

“Did you not hear me?” You asked. “I want something real, not a one night stand. I don’t care how—” you began to stammer, “-utterly handsome, gorgeous, and sexy he is.”

“So you stand by your choice to reject him,” the bartender asked.

You sighed and straightened your back as though to gather yourself. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just needed to vent.”

“So…” your friend began again. “Do you… want the sniper? Or do you want a palette cleanser?”

You met your friend’s eyes and hesitated. “I… I want to say… palette cleanser?”

It was obvious that you were doubting, but your friend, being the expert bartender and well experienced in listening to his clients’ problems, only had to look you in the eyes for a moment to know exactly what you needed. They knew every single customer at the 79’s—never mind the fact that most of them were identical—and for a couple moments, the bartender’s gaze drifted past your left shoulder and lingered for a while as though examining, as though they were plotting. You took notice of your friend’s positioning of their gaze, and you looked over your shoulder hoping you would see your next match.

All you saw was the sniper sitting at the farthest booth with a glass of whisky in his hand, all alone. But he wasn’t looking at you. With your heart plummeting in your chest, you turned away and reached for your own drink and took a large gulp from it.

“Wait here,” the bartender said. In the few moments they were gone, you paced yourself with your drink, beating the need to drown your sorrows, and when your trusted bartender finally returned, they did so with an agreeable-looking man, one who wasn’t a clone.

He was tall, had hazel-colored eyes and light brown hair that may have been blond in more natural lighting. He was dressed nicely, appropriate for a bar but not in a way that screamed a need for attention, and the amount of cologne he was wearing was rather attractive, certainly not too much of it. His lips were full and his bright smile crinkled his eyes as he looked at you, giving him a somewhat innocent gleam as he was visibly excited to meet you.

“What’d you say your name was?” The bartender asked him.

“Aiden,” he replied, looking at the bartender, and quickly went to meet your gaze again. “Aiden Maverick, pleased to meet you.”

You giggled softly, slightly surprised at how quickly your friend had gotten you company. Still, despite the speed, Aiden wasn’t a blatantly terrible choice. Actually, Aiden seemed like someone you could talk with, maybe hit it off, see where things went.

“Pleased to meet you too,” you said softly, holding out your hand to shake his. You then introduced yourself to Aiden and pronounced your name for the first time in a long time, perhaps even since you’d first set foot in that bar.

From the booth at the other side of the bar, Crosshair had tried hard not to stare at you. He wasn’t one to linger or to insist, but you’d made his mind your permanent residence. For the past weeks, even when he was on a mission sniping on some foreign cliff, his thoughts would often drift to the nameless girl from the bar, the one who only made him want her more when she was brave enough to tell him off like he deserved. For a moment, he asked himself why he continued to frequent the 79’s bar if all it did was remind him of how he screwed up with you before he could get himself a chance to try. It wasn’t as if he’d gotten a date since you turned him down. He hadn’t wanted to look at anyone else.

Some idiot he figured himself to be. Always confident and arrogant and snarky, with a quick remark ready for any occasion, but the moment one pretty girl turns him down, he shatters. Crosshair took a large gulp from his whisky—you weren’t just some pretty girl. No, he knew it when he first met you. He knew the second your bright eyes stared up at him and your soft, kissable lips smiled at him. He knew right then that he was a goner, that he would never be the same, that no one could compare to you, and nothing could compare to being smiled at by you.

But it was futile to lament. It wasn’t as if you knew, and it wasn’t as if you could. It didn’t matter when it came to you that Crosshair hadn’t gotten involved with anyone since he met you. You were the only person he cared to know that fact, and you didn’t.

For a moment, he dared to look at the bar, and the sight made him want to gag. Some nobody had gotten your attention—perhaps that nobody wasn’t notorious for anything and seemed perfectly rational. You were smiling at whoever that guy was, and Crosshair found himself wishing it was him standing next to you, flirting, charming you. He thought of going up there and putting up a fight, but some corner of him felt like he’d only be getting in your way of being treated nicely the way he couldn’t do the first time. Then, in the middle of his brooding, Crosshair’s watchful gaze picked up on another pair of eyes drilling into him just off the side of you and your acquaintance.

The bartender. Much like Crosshair in a battle, they saw everything. And it hit him. If anyone at the 79’s had taken note of the fact that Crosshair had put aside his old habits, it was the bartender. The bartender who, coincidentally, just so happened to be your friend, and just so happened to be staring intently at him as you hit it off with some other guy at the bar. Crosshair raised a brow at the bartender, asking with his gaze what he was supposed to do. He noticed the bartender directing a quick eye roll at him, and then they walked their way back to you and your new friend and placed one hand on your shoulder, the other one on the new guy’s shoulder.

“Alright, buddy!” The bartender called loud enough for Crosshair to hear. And then, the bartender continued to call out that “he” had their blessing to be with you, and then, the bartender pronounced your name.

Upon hearing what your name was, Crosshair understood. He understood that he couldn’t sit there for another second—to do so would be blatant waste, and if he did it, he would never deserve to be with you. But he downed the rest of his whisky, set the glass down loudly on the table, and stood up with more resolve than he had ever mustered in his life. He made his way across the crowded dance floor, finding it harder to do so than last time—his armor played a certain part in that, but despite the fact that it gave him confidence, the master-of-control sniper felt his chest shake with every step he took closer to you.

At last, he reached the bar and positioned himself beside you, catching Aiden’s attention. When Aiden looked at Crosshair, you realized he was standing beside you, and your eyes widened in surprise. You couldn’t help but feel defensive for a moment—you weren’t sure you’d be as firm to turn Crosshair down a second time.

“You’re gonna have to leave,” Crosshair told Aiden.

“What?” Aiden raised a brow. “Who do you think you are?”

“I haven’t been able to get this woman off my mind for weeks,” Crosshair evaded any temptation to buff up in testosterone and chose the path of brutal honesty. “You’ve known her for five minutes, I’ve needed her since the first time she smiled at me. I have gone back and forth six missions since then, been on the line of fire, and a blast to the heart would be heaven compared to never having another chance to make things right with her. I’m all the more hopeless than I was when I blew my chance, but I’m gonna need you to step aside right now because I need to make this okay.”

You barely knew Crosshair, but you didn’t reckon he was a man of many words. For him to say that much—and speak that beautifully—about you, made every fiber in your body shift towards him. You glanced quickly over at the bartender, and they were already looking at you with knowing eyes, raising their brows and gesturing at Crosshair before going on their way to tend to the rest of the customers. You let out a soft chuckle, flattered at the change in events, and you knew to trust your friend. With apologetic eyes, you looked over at Aiden.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Could you please give us a moment?”

Aiden appeared disappointed, but he nodded and stood up from the bar, taking the rejection like a pro and even managing a polite smile at you. “Right. Have a nice night.”

You directed a soft smile at him too as he walked away, but then your attention tunneled towards Crosshair, and your big eyes looked at him with hope and a twinge of caution.

“So…” you began, speaking as softly as the volume at the bar allowed. “I’m guessing changes of heart are common in soldiers.”

Crosshair stifled a chuckle. “Being a soldier had nothing to do with it.”

He was hesitant to touch you, and instead, he resorted to letting his gaze gently shower you with his purest intent. “What I said was true. I want to be with you, and I don’t care for anything else. All I could want is to come back alive from every mission to come home to you.”

You scoffed, but ended up smiling at him. “But… look. I’m crazy about you, and I never would have dreamed you’d want something with me. But you’re still you, you still get out and about and get whatever woman you want—”

“That’s over,” Crosshair said. “It has been since we met.”

“I can vouch for that,” the bartender jumped into the conversation. You looked over at them, half indignant, half amused, and your friend dismissed themself with a carefree wave of their hands before continuing their work.

You then looked at Crosshair again, and he looked at you. His entire aura seemed to soften, and he leaned in closer to you, almost shyly.

“You have a beautiful name,” he said.

You smiled, feeling your cheeks getting hot. “Thanks.”

He smiled back at you—he had a truly beautiful smile—and finally, Crosshair leaned in enough to rest his forehead on yours. Down at your side, you felt his fingers beginning to brush yours, and when you let him take your hands fully, you noticed his smile widen.

“So,” you said sweetly, “do you want to get out of here?”

His eyes met yours as your foreheads continued to rest on one another. “Yes. Do you want to?”

Your smile widened too and you gave a soft nod. “Yes.”

Crosshair gave a smooth chuckle, regaining some of his usual charm and confidence. “So, this is gonna happen after all?”

You giggled in response. “You’re pushing your chances, but yes.”

The laughter between you quieted down, and for a moment, your lips hovered over each other, flirting with the possibility of sealing the space and sinking into the first kiss. The tension in those millimeters left between your lips and his was electrifying, utterly delicious, and you wanted to savor it. You wanted that drumroll to lead to the best possible first kiss, and with your gaze suddenly full of mischief and excitement, you stood up from your chair and began leading Crosshair outside. He followed gladly, but not without leaving a generous tip for your friend, the bartender.

Outside, you were met with cool air and drops of rain falling from a cloudy, gray-blue twilight sky. The towering Coruscant skyline simply hit differently in the rainfall, and the countless lights that twinkled around you were reflected in the puddles on the pavement. You had no idea where you were headed, and you had the feeling Crosshair didn’t know either, but for that space, all that sufficed was to position yourselves under a lamp post. With Crosshair leading the way, he stopped next to it and turned around to face you as you caught up with him, never letting go of his hand, and that was when the rain began to fall harder. Anyone else who wasn’t covered from the shower would hurry out of the mist, but you felt it then without a doubt—the moment had come.

You smiled up at Crosshair and felt your spine erupt in sparks when he directed a smirk at you, one that was suggestive but didn’t lack an evident tenderness to it, a joy fueled by your presence and your hand in his. Towering, his armored, handsome figure inched closer to you, and his free hand secured your waist. Crosshair pulled you closer, you angled your face up as a sweet beckoning for his lips, and in those final beautiful seconds, Crosshair leaned down and took your lips in his, unleashing every bit of that delicious tension that had formed between you two. Every one of your feelings for him escalated, and you took a leap to wrap your legs around his waist, feeling him secure your rear end with strong hands. A playful moan escaped you, and you went on kissing him under that lamp post, mindless to the fact that you were soaking in the rain, for each second was worth the cold surface of your clothes in exchange for that heat building between your body and his.

In a matter of a blur, you and Crosshair left the spot under the lamp post that would forever belong to you two. The whole way back to your place, you could hardly keep your hands off of him, and when you managed to make sense of reality again, you found yourself in your living room clinging to his body once again, smirking into playful kisses as you both stumbled to your sofa. You rested on the couch cushions, wet clothes be damned, and enjoyed the sight of Crosshair looming over you with his figure still broad and armored. You let your hands roam freely over his silhouette, feeling damp plastoid on your fingertips wherever you touched, ranging from his back to his chest, his shoulders, even his expert hands. When Crosshair slipped his tongue into your mouth, you both moaned at the sweet sensations caused by the friction, and the taste of whisky prompted a wiggle of your hips that sent him reeling.

You felt your deepest corners beginning to ignite, and you let go of Crosshair’s body to bring your hands to your wet clothes, slowly beginning to remove your sweater followed by the blouse that clung to your body. When Crosshair noticed, you perceived the darkening of his gaze, and he aided you in removing damp garments. Your skin was left exposed, feeling cool as it came in contact with the air around you, and swiftly, Crosshair reached for a blanket you had folded on the armrest of the couch to cover you from the cold.

He resumed kissing you, and you decided it was his turn to lose the armor. You helped him remove the shoulder pad with the appendage, and the one without; his belt came off and then his chest plate, followed by one set of arm pads and then the other. By the time you were growing impatient, Crosshair was left in the black, thin suit that concealed his skin from you, and feeling the freedom from his armor, he pressed himself firmly to your body, letting you feel the hardening bulge between his legs. You invited him into the cocoon of your blanket, letting warmth engulf you both as your kisses wore on, and you felt his gloved hands taking their liberty with your curves.

Soon, you pressed yourself up to him and you were both sitting on the couch, breaking the kiss for a split second, only enough for you to pull the skin-tight black shirt over his body. You hesitated before kissing him again, prompted to take in all his beauty and memorize it, and when you kissed Crosshair again, your hands brushed from his lower abdomen and all the way up to his chest and collarbones; you could feel shivers forming on his skin as your hands trailed over him, and Crosshair let a deep moan bleed into the kiss, entranced by your touch.

You felt him standing up and bringing you along with him. He made sure you were still covered by the blanket as he carried you, and you broke the kiss, panting for breath with an enticing grin, biting your lower lip as you pointed your nose in the direction of the bedroom. Crosshair stood on the spot for a moment to kiss your lips one more hungry time, and then with almost impossible tenderness, he carried you to your room and set you on the bed, where you kneeled on the mattress facing away from him. As soon as Crosshair got on his knees on the mattress, with your back pressed to his chest, he kissed your neck and whatever he could of your collar until you turned your face to capture his lips once more. The blanket that covered your naked body fell down to your sides, and with your skin exposed again, Crosshair didn’t hold back before letting his hands feel your waist and travel up your breasts.

You ached in those moments of foreplay, longing for more, letting that hunger manifest in your kisses quickening and your breath straining. With a smirk into your lips, Crosshair obliged your silent request, and one of his hands went to your knee and snaked up your inner thigh, pausing for just enough to make you whimper in anticipation. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and you let out a wanton moan when you finally felt his fingers brushing over your clit in expert motions, not wasting another moment. Pleasure instantly flooded you, awaking every one of your nerves, and your body sank back into his as you moaned at the sweet electricity coursing through you. You could feel it building and bubbling more with each second that passed, enjoying every instant of it until you knew release was imminent. Your gaze found his, knowing you wanted to be looking into those beautiful amber eyes when it happened, and when it finally did, your whole body curved in its inability to keep upright at such intense pleasure expanding to your every corner. Crosshair moaned in unison with you as though to cheer you forward, enjoying every bit of your reaction, swelling in pride at how good he could make you feel. He didn’t let himself stop his expert work on your clit, he wanted you to feel every ounce of pleasure you could possibly feel, and when the time was right, he let you go for a breather.

He’d expected to remain on top, but Crosshair was met with you grasping his shoulders and leading him to lie down on the bed. You climbed on top and straddled his waist, eyeing the lines of his muscles standing out in the dim lighting of the room. You leaned forward enough to set your hands at the base of his hips where the fabric of his pants began and, pressing gently, you ran your hands up his abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of his muscles as his breath quickened in arousal. When your hands reached his chest, you felt the bulge in his pants hardening more, pulsating against your crotch, and Crosshair threw his head back on the pillow in a futile attempt to suppress a moan of sheer excitation before he looked up at you again with hungry eyes, his lips mouthing the word Please barely under his breath.

You leaned forward and kissed him again, moaning in tandem with him. Your hands reached down to the fabric that continued to cover the lower half of his body, and you undid the buttons at the top to pull it down enough to free his erection, and you heard Crosshair moan softly at the sensation. Barely giving him time to dimension, your hand grasped his girth and began pumping slowly, and you grinned with satisfaction into the kiss at the sound of Crosshair moaning louder at your touch.

“Yes,” he hissed, moaning into your kisses once more as you continued massaging his length. He continued to mumble things into your lips, only letting you make out faint details of “Touch me” until the final request was, like music to your ears, “Fuck me.”

You obliged, lifting yourself only to sink on his entire length, hissing at the sharp pain that quickly turned to pleasure when he stretched you out. You kept your lips close to his, and with his help, you bucked your hips up and down, rising and falling on his cock at a luscious pace. The heat emanating from your bodies continued to build between you, until you’d reached the quickest pace you could in that position. The sight of you on top of him was enough to entrance Crosshair, but he still ached for more. He wouldn’t have enough until you were writhing in his grip, and in a swift movement, he rolled over on top of you. In full control, Crosshair bucked faster into your hips, enticed by how deep and warm and wet you were. Every moan you let escape dragged him deeper into the state of ecstasy he found himself in, and he knew he’d never escape.

But he didn’t want to escape it. He’d pined for you long enough, and there you were, entwined in your lovemaking.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, letting him pound deeper into you until you once again exploded into raw pleasure. Your fingers clasped the silver hair on the back of his neck, and you let yourself moan his name out as you pronounced yourself his. After a few more movements, Crosshair was coming undone inside you, savoring every wave of intensity as the ropes of white flooded you inside, releasing airy moans as his body slowly allowed itself to calm down and he collapsed beside you.

Your visions blurred for the moments to come, and all either of you needed to know was that the other lay there beside you. You gathered yourself and rolled over onto one side facing Crosshair, and you let your hand slide gently up his torso one more time. You lay your head on his shoulder and rested your full weight on him, holding him close to you, and then you felt his arm draping around you as he let out a gentle, fulfilled sigh.

“We’ve got to do that again,” Crosshair panted.

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, and then you giggled. “You didn’t plan on sleeping tonight, right?”

Crosshair’s signature seductive chuckle rumbled low in his chest and he rolled over on top of you once more, seemingly ready to continue. “Not a chance.”

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[pomefioredove]

I'm not sure exactly which day counts as "weekend" bc of cultural differences lol but you can ignore this if it's not on the permitted day!!

But for the brief Rollo x reader thing that's you're doing, can I please have something with him and a reader that is generally very tactile? One day they grab his hand to pull him somewhere as they absentmindedly ramble, and they don't realize it until he speaks up about it (or not....? <w<)

hii anon!! ofc this is a very cute request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cold hands

type of post: short fic characters: rollo additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Winter in Fleur City is as unkind as it is beautiful.

Autumn's colorful embrace was short and sweet, giving you but three weeks of cozy, lukewarm mornings before the trees were bare and bending in the breeze that carried along the Soleil.

The first snow of the winter season had completely frozen over the river.

It had also kissed everything in frost, blanketed the streets, and canceled classes at Noble Bell College for the morning. It was heavy and restless.

It became no wonder to you that the people of Fleur City were eager to put up their tinsel and candles. The smell of cinnamon and pine is an effective distraction from the icy wind, after all.

And so, without classes to attend to, you find yourself walking through the city on crushed snow, already muddy with boot prints and animal hooves, to a seasonal cafe which had just opened.

Oh, and the Student Council President has offered to escort you.

It's, apparently, quite an ordeal; the few Noble Bell students you pass by in the streets stop mid-snowball fight or nearly drop their to-go coffees from their mittens when they see you, bundled up in Rollo Flamme's scarf, walking hand-in-hand.

You honestly hadn't even noticed you had grabbed him. It had been somewhat of an impulse, your cold, undressed hands feeling out for something to hold.

And usually, that would have been a quill, or one of those artisanal wooden blocks this city so loves, just something to run your thumb over while you think, not the Student Council President's hand.

But he doesn't say anything, and, more presently, doesn't pull away.

"You really ought to have dressed warmer," Rollo says, fussing over the scarf he'd given you off his own neck. "You'll catch something, and missing class over a frivolous venture such as is unacceptable."

"I suppose I didn't think of it,"

"Then next time," he says. "I don't know what I would do with myself if you were ill. It's the busiest time of year."

Right. Finals are coming up.

"I won't do it again,"

He sighs. "I know. Now, come along. Morning classes may have been dismissed, quite unnecessarily, I might say, but we'll both be expected on campus at noon,"

His hand tightens around yours, and his pace becomes brisker, cutting through the myriad of tourists and laughing children and pigeons. He shields you from the falling snow and blistering wind, holding you behind him until you reach the cafe.

It's bustling and loud inside, busier than the annual cafes you're used to visiting, but Rollo somehow has you in and out with a warm drink and a pastry in no more than five minutes.

You have the treat outside, your hands already cracked from the dry cold in the air, and once you've finished he slips his hand into yours and begins walking again.

There's not much conversation. Rollo is a strange man; some days, he's happy to talk about the history of Fleur City or what he's studying in Noble Bell's prestigious law class, and some days he's like this. Quiet.

His hand is surprisingly warm, though, despite the cold he seems to maintain a high body temperature all on his own. He runs a thumb over the back of your hand, feeling the dry skin there.

"You're freezing,"

"I'm okay,"

"Honesty is a virtue," he snaps, his sharp way of reminding you that he can always tell when you're lying, and he doesn't like it.

"You'll catch your death of cold. And then what would I do?"

For a fleeting moment, you can swear he gets a little warmer; or, at least, his hand does. You must be imagining things.

The silence lingers like the cold in the air, but, finally, he gets you to start talking about your favorite class subject, which you do until you've reached the gates of the school.

Rollo stops you, bids you an overly formal good-bye, and takes his hand, too, leaving you with the cold.

Hm. He seemed so off today. You wonder what that could be?

You won't realize that you'd been holding his hand all morning until later, but for now, you're content with the mystery and the warm scarf he left on your shoulders.

[quojae]

 - Where your roommates male bsf changes your life forever - 

f!reader x sunghoon - college au - kissing - living together - mutual feelings - fluff  

a/n: hello loves 𖹭 i really hope you enjoy this cute and fluffy short story (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

wc 7.2k

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

starting college will always be  nerve racking. of course you look forward to it - its a step into a brand new world, who wouldn't be excited. yet at the same time, leaving behind everything you've known to move in with a stranger, its a strange feeling to describe. for some extroverts its thrilling, and for some introverts its downright terrifying. you aren't quite sure how to feel about it. the tangle of nerves in your stomach has yet to unwind itself, so you sit on your new bed, in your tiny dorm room, staring at a blank wall unsure what to do next. your life that you managed to pack into four boxes is all laid out in front of you. clothes, stationary, that one blanket you've had for as long as you remember, all in front of you waiting to be placed in its new spot in this unfamiliar room. the clunk of a door opening startles you out of your thoughts. you jump a little, instinctively straightening up on your bed as the door creaks open. in the doorway stands a figure, the silhouette of someone about your age, holding a few bags, a backpack slung over one shoulder. they look just as unsure as you feel, glancing around the room with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

"uh... hey," they say, their voice sounding friendly, but there's a hint of nervousness. "i guess this is my room…"

the air between you both feels awkward at first - like neither of you knows quite how to break the ice.

you both probably have a million thoughts running through your heads, each of you wondering what this new chapter is going to bring. but here you are, in the same boat, just two strangers trying to figure out how to make this work.

you clear your throat, “im… y/n, it’s nice to meet you.”

the girl standing in the doorway smiles and steps further into the dorm, dragging a large suitcase behind her, “wonyoung, jang wonyoung,” her voice is sweet, making you feel instantly more comfortable.

  ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋  ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

after the initial awkwardness things were simple, easy. despite the fact your new roommate, wonyoung looked quite literally like a fairy princess, she was approachable and friendly and you easily grew close. things were surprisingly simple. the early days were full of small talk, the nerves slowly settled as the days passed, and you found yourself laughing more than you thought you would.

wonyoung was, as your first impression suggested, impossibly pretty - like someone who belonged in a fairy tale. Her hair was always perfectly styled, and she had this effortless grace about her that made you feel like you were in the presence of royalty. But for all her beauty, she was so fun to be around, charming, funny, and completely approachable. it didn't take long to realize that behind the porcelain skin and delicate features, there was a real person - someone warm, and wonderful. after meeting her friends you fit in immediately, they were so welcoming to you it was like finding another family. your social circle expanded daily as she introduced you to new people. it was fun, it was what college was supposed to be and you were enjoying every minute.

college was fun of course, but college was also a lot of work. You would often find yourself sitting at your small desk that was crammed into a corner of the room writing essays into the late hours of the night. sometimes wonyoung would stay up with you, also writing an essay, other times she would just chat with you, simple conversations to help make work feel a bit less like work. it was one of these nights, you were writing a paper, wonyoung was lounging on her bed, in frilly pink pajamas, as usual. yet tonight she was a bit distracted, still chatting with you, but sometimes there would be an awkward break in conversation as she thought deeply about how to respond to a text she had gotten.

after rushing through the conclusion of your paper and throwing on pajamas, ready to collapse and fall asleep for the next few hours until your painfully early 9am class you realized wonyoung was still awake, still laying on her bed, staring at her phone.

"what's up?" you ask, your voice tentative.

she hesitates for a moment before responding, her tone a little strained. "Oh, sorry. i'm just having a bit of an argument with my mom."

you sit up a little, concern rising. "well, what's going on? maybe i can help."

"the thing is," she begins, her voice quiet, "one of my childhood friends is coming to campus for a seminar or something - it's not a big deal - and my mom wants him to stay with us so he doesn't have to pay for a hotel." she finishes speaking and quickly types a response to a text, her brows furrowing as she does.

“that doesn’t seem like a big deal,” you respond, “i wouldn't mind”

She lets out a sigh “i wouldn't mind either, the real problem is my friend who she wants to stay with us, is a guy, and knowing his personality im afraid he would make you uncomfortable.”

your mind processes that for a moment before responding, “well, he is your friend, i'm sure it won't be too bad, why not let him stay with us for a bit, he can sleep on our couch.”

wonyoung pauses her furious typing to look at you with a worried expression “are you sure?”

you smile “yeah, why not!”

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a month had passed since that late-night conversation with wonyoung, and it had almost slipped from your mind entirely - until a knock at your door startled you out of your thoughts. you sighed and set down your textbook, walked over to the door, expecting a delivery or a neighbor needing something, but when you opened the door, you froze.

a man stood there, holding a duffel bag. he wasn’t someone you recognized, but that wasn’t what left you speechless. it was his appearance, the sheer perfection of it, that took your breath away. his hair was perfectly styled, framing his sharp jawline and angular features in a way that seemed too flawless to be real. His thick brows arched perfectly above his eyes, which held a sharp, almost intense gaze. the contrast between his dark hair and pale skin made him look like something out of a fashion magazine, or maybe a dream.

you stood there for a moment, completely frozen, unable to process anything other than the fact that this was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. his presence seemed to fill the cramped hallway, his features so striking it almost felt like you were staring at a sculpture.

and then it hit you - how disheveled you must look standing in front of him. you were wearing an old graphic tee, the one you’d picked up from a random bin in a clearance section years ago, paired with old shorts you used to use for painting, that you found at the back of your closet, because you didn’t feel like putting any effort into your appearance, you were supposed to be alone, at home it shouldnt have mattered. your hair, which you hadn’t bothered to style, hung messily around your face, and you hadn’t even washed your face that morning. the contrast between the way he looked and the way you felt was almost too much to bear.

for a few seconds, there was nothing but awkward silence as you stared at him, trying - and failing - to hide the sudden wave of self-consciousness. you could feel heat rising in your cheeks. in that moment, you wished you were somewhere else, anywhere but here.

finally, you managed to find your voice, stumbling over your words. “hi there… i think you have the wrong room.”

he just stood there, like a model, with his duffel bag hanging by his side. then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice smooth, “you’re wonyoung’s roommate, right?” His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it that made you pause.

"wonyoungs roommate?" you repeated, still feeling disoriented. How did he know wonyoung? you racked your brain, trying to make a connection. had Wonyoung mentioned someone like this to you? but nothing clicked.

you nodded, your voice shaky as you confirmed, “yes…” you glanced at him again, unsure what to make of this strange encounter. His presence was both overwhelming and oddly comforting, as though you were in the presence of someone who didn’t belong in the same space as you—but at the same time, something about him felt… familiar.

the man seemed to take in your reaction with a slight, almost amused smile, as if he could read the confusion on your face. Without saying another word, he shifted the duffel bag on his shoulder, waiting for you to respond or make sense of the situation.

after realizing you really had no idea what was going on he decided to save you by finally saying “im her friend, im staying with you for a few days, she was supposed to mention it to you.”

at that moment you remembered your conversation with wonyoung from a month ago, “oh, right, yeah, she mentioned you…. please come in” you smiled, to be welcoming, but also because you were happy you managed to form a complete sentence without stuttering. you rarely stutter, but for some reason just being around this man made your brain get all jumbled up.

he stepped in and put his duffel on the small sofa that was shoved against a wall, “im sunghoon park by the way,” he paused, “figure we should introduce ourselves considering we will be living together for a bit.”

you smile, “im y/n, its nice to meet you sunghoon.”

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later that night, wonyoung insisted on taking you and sunghoon out to dinner. with a bright smile, she told you both that she wanted her two closest friends to get along, and that this dinner would be the perfect opportunity for that. you agreed, though part of you was still a little unsure. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to get along with sunghoon, it was just you hadn't had any interaction with him after the initial encounter that morning, and you were still embarrassed over how you had presented yourself.

wonyoung led the way to a small, unassuming family restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The place was a little hidden gem - one of those hole-in-the-wall spots where the food was always good, but the decor was simple. the moment you walked in, the warmth of the place, along with the smell of freshly made food, made you feel comfortable. You had been to places like this before, but this one felt special in its own way. the atmosphere was cozy, with wooden tables and the faint hum of conversation around you. 

the food came out quickly, and you couldn’t help but notice how much wonyoung seemed to enjoy every bite. she was talkative as always, offering you both recommendations, and even playfully teasing sunghoon when he hesitated over what to order. sunghoon rolled his eyes but smiled, it was obvious that this was a common interaction between the two of them. there was a comfort in the way they interacted, an ease that made it clear they had known each other for a long time. the way Sunghoon would tease wonyoung about anything and everything - whether it was her ordering too much food or her inability to sit still during a movie - always seemed to make her laugh, and she’d respond with exaggerated reactions, her eyes widening and hands gesturing dramatically as though hed just committed the most heinous of crimes. you couldn't help but smile as you watched them. 

as the evening wore on, you found yourself feeling glad wonyoung had invited you to this night out, appreciating the warmth of the night and the way both wonyoung and sunghoon made sure you felt included. even though sunghoon and wonyoung were so close sunghoon still made an effort to talk to you and be kind, he truly was like a prince charming, he was kind, a bit awkward and so fun to talk to. despite the fact you were having such a fun time, there was an odd tightness in your chest that you couldn’t quite explain. every time wonyoung and sunghoon would get close - whether it was during one of their teasing exchanges or when they laughed about something that only the two of them understood - it was like a knot was slowly forming in the pit of your stomach. you didn’t have a reason to feel that way, but every time they’d share a private joke or lean in to whisper something to each other, the feeling only seemed to grow stronger.

the more you observed them, the more you noticed just how comfortable they were with each other, how they seemed to have this unspoken understanding that made them look like they had their own little world. you didn’t want to be the third wheel. you wanted to be part of the group, part of the laughter and lighthearted teasing. and yet, the longer you sat there, the more aware you became of the small, quiet ache inside you.

you pushed the thought away as you took a sip of your drink, trying to focus on the conversation and join in, but no matter how hard you tried, that tightness in your chest wouldn’t fade. something about the way they interacted—so effortlessly, so naturally—stirred something inside you. as the evening came to a close, and the three of you made your way out of the restaurant, wonyoung turned to you, clearly happy that the night had gone so well. 

“i’m glad you two got along!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright a smile stretching across her face. “See? i told you it wouldn’t be awkward.”

you smiled back, truly happy with how the night went.

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the rest of the week passed in a blur, marked by the usual mix of classes, assignments, and the general hustle of daily life. Nothing particularly exciting happened, but it wasn’t a bad week - it just felt... routine. you and sunghoon barely crossed paths, which wasn’t unusual. you were both busy with your own responsibilities, and with the way your schedules lined up, there were days when you didn’t even see him at all. you found yourself buried in textbooks and lecture notes, trying to keep up with assignments, while sunghoon was often caught up with his own seminar work or running errands. it was easy to slip into the regular rhythm of solo study sessions and late nights hunched over your desk despite the new presence in your dorm. Still, there were moments - small, fleeting moments - that made everything feel a little more... charged.

there was the time when you were sitting in the kitchen, focused on an assignment, when sunghoon had come in to grab a snack. you hadn’t even noticed him at first, too wrapped up in the words on your screen, but when you glanced up, he was standing there, looking at you with that quiet smile of his. 

“do you need help with that?” he’d asked, his voice soft and casual, the kind of tone that seemed to put you at ease instantly. There was something comforting about the way he spoke, like his words wrapped around you in a way that felt effortless but sincere.

then there was the time you were both sitting side by side on the couch, flipping through TV channels, both of you tired and looking for a distraction after a long day. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but when his hand brushed against yours as he reached for the remote, you felt a jolt of warmth rush through you. you hadn’t meant to linger, hadn’t meant to let the moment stretch out, but you couldn’t help it. your heart fluttered in your chest, and for a second, you wondered if he’d felt it too. 

sunghoon never said anything, he just went about his business, as if the casual touch meant nothing at all, and you did your best to pretend it didn’t either. yet, even after he’d moved his hand away, the feeling lingered, and you found yourself unable to focus on the TV or the conversation. it was like your pulse was a little faster, a little more alive.

then there were those small, unspoken interactions - the moments when you’d both find yourselves in the same room, but you didn’t need to fill the space with words. Whether it was passing each other in the hallway or sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner, there was a quiet connection that seemed to hang in the air, just under the surface. every now and then, you’d glance up to find him already watching you, your eyes meeting, and in that fraction of a second, something unspoken passing between you. 

you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was like a quiet tension that seemed to weave itself into these tiny, everyday moments, and it wasn’t just the brush of hands or the small gestures - it was the way Sunghoon spoke to you, the tone of his voice, the slight curve of his lips when he said something sarcastic or playful. there was an effortless kindness in the way he treated you, a gentleness that you didn’t see in everyone. it wasn’t overwhelming, but it was enough to make you feel... seen, in a way that felt different from what you were used to.

the thing was, you weren’t sure if you were reading too much into it. it was easy to get caught up in the little things, the glances, the words, and let your mind wander into places it shouldn’t. even so, you couldn’t help it. every time he spoke to you in that calm, reassuring tone, or when his presence filled the space beside you, your heart would flutter - sometimes so quietly that you’d almost wonder if you imagined it, but other times with enough force that it made it impossible to ignore.

you knew it was a silly thing to feel—after all, you were just temporary housemates, maybe friends, but there was something about Sunghoon that made everything feel... different. even in the quiet moments, the ones where nothing particularly noteworthy happened, your chest would tighten in a way that was unfamiliar. his kindness, his subtle presence, the way he made you feel like you mattered - it all had an effect on you that you weren’t sure how to handle.

by the end of the week, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was shifting, that these small, seemingly insignificant moments were adding up to something more, what that was, you weren’t sure. for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, telling yourself that you were just overthinking it. after all, sunghoon was just being himself - kind, polite, and friendly, like he always was. 

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"sunghoon is leaving in a few days, you know," wonyoung remarked casually one afternoon.

that simple statement immediately shattered your focus. your mind went blank, your heart sinking like a stone in your chest. you’d known this was coming, of course. it wasn't like he had moved in permanently - it was always just a temporary arrangement from the start. yet hearing it out loud, made something tight and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. you weren't sure what this feeling was, but it was definitely unsettling. 

“oh, really?” you finally managed to say, trying to sound casual even though your pulse had quickened. "So his seminar is over now?"

wonyoung nodded, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. A look that made you feel like she was holding some secret. she didn’t say anything for a second, just giving you a soft, almost teasing smile.

"yeah, and because he's leaving in a bit... if you're going to say anything, you better do it soon."

her words hit you like a cold splash of water, and you froze, a little caught off guard. "what would i say?" you asked, confused. your mind was trying to catch up, but you were too tangled in the unexpected wave of emotions that had come up at the mention of sunghoon leaving.

wonyoung’s smile widened, and she leaned in a little, lowering her voice in that familiar playful way of hers, the one that made her seem both impossibly wise and annoyingly knowing at the same time. "well, it’s not like you two are subtle about it. there’s clearly something going on between you two. there’s like this... electricity that keeps zapping between you guys." 

she giggled lightly, clearly amused by your reaction, but you were too stunned to laugh with her. instead, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. the words hit you harder than you expected. your mind raced. so it wasn't just you. wonyoung had felt it too. The way things seemed to shift between you and sunghoon whenever you were in the same room, the strange moments when you'd catch each other’s gaze and feel that spark of something you couldn’t name. it wasn’t like you’d been outright flirtatious - at least, you didn’t think you had - but it seemed like it had been more obvious than you’d realized.

“w-wait, what?” you stammered, feeling your heart race. You tried to compose yourself, but it was impossible. “you think there’s something going on between us?” you couldn’t quite suppress the nervous laugh that followed, as if somehow distancing yourself from the weight of what she was saying.

wonyoung raised an eyebrow and gave you a mischievous smile, "oh, don’t play dumb. it’s pretty obvious, you know. the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you - even the way you two sit next to each other. it’s like there’s this... i don’t know, magnetic pull? and i can feel it in the air when you two are together."

her words hung in the air, lingering, and your mind was swimming. did sunghoon feel it too? that same strange energy that seemed to buzz when you were around him? you had always thought it was just your mind playing tricks, creating tension where there was none, but hearing wonyoung so casually acknowledge it made you question everything. it was almost like she’d peeled back the layers of your feelings and laid it all out in front of you, leaving you exposed in a way you hadn’t expected.

your stomach did a flip as you tried to make sense of everything. sunghoon was leaving soon and wonyoung was giving you a chance to do something, as if you had any idea what to do with the feelings swirling inside you. you had often laid in your bed wondering what exactly was going on, but now that wonyoung laid it out for you like this, you knew. you knew you were in love with sunghoon, hearing that he was leaving made your heart sink and now all you wanted was to run to him and beg him not to leave, because despite the fact you hadn't spent much time together, you became dependent on sunghoon, used to him, and you wanted him to stay.

you swallowed hard, looking down at your hands as you tried to hide your growing embarrassment. "i... i don’t know," you muttered, more to yourself than to her. "… i don’t know if it even matters, right? i mean, no matter what happens between us he still leaves," you could feel the heat rising in your face, and you silently cursed yourself for how obvious your feelings were.

wonyoung’s expression softened just a little, her tone turning more understanding. "i get it," she said gently. "it’s not exactly easy to spill your heart out to someone. i can’t tell you what to do, but i think if you feel something, maybe you should at least say it before he leaves, because once he's gone, it'll be harder to figure out what you might’ve missed out on, you know?"

she didn’t push any further, your mind was reeling, and you could feel the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. you weren’t sure what was happening between you and sunghoon—how deep it went, or what it even meant - but the pressure of this conversation, combined with the reality that he would be leaving soon, made everything feel like it was happening too quickly.

as wonyoung gave you one last knowing smile, she added, "i’m not saying you have to do anything drastic. just think about it, kay?"

you nodded, your thoughts were already a whirlwind. you knew you couldn't just let it go. it would always be one of those things where you would sit in bed wondering ‘what if’ for too long. love, this was a new feeling for you. love always seemed difficult, but this, this was so easy to fall into you hadn't realized what it was until it was too late. sunghoon had made it so easy.

wonyoung’s words echoed in your head, and suddenly, nothing felt certain anymore. You had a few days left. just a few days. the clock was ticking.

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it was later that night, after dinner, when the weight of wonyoung's words hit you again, reverberating through your thoughts, refusing to let you go. Sunghoon was leaving in just a few days. you knew this, but somehow it felt like a punch to the gut now that it was so close. 

you sat on the couch next to him, the dim light of the TV flickering across his face as he absentmindedly scrolled through netflix. the air between you was easy, like it always was, the kind of comfortable silence that felt almost too natural. but tonight, with the knowledge that his departure was soon, the air felt heavy. Every small movement, every quiet gesture, seemed to be marked with an invisible countdown.

you watched him for a moment, feeling the tightness in your chest you had gotten used to. he was relaxed, his posture slouched slightly as he clicked through show after show, clearly not expecting you to say anything. but you wanted to say something. you needed to say something. the words wonyoung had planted in your mind, coupled with the overwhelming feeling of knowing he was leaving, made it impossible to just sit there in silence. your heart was pounding, your nerves a jumbled mess.

As you opened your mouth to speak, you realized it wasn’t that simple. telling someone you loved them was hard. so much harder than it seemed in movies or in your daydreams. you had thought, at some point, that the words would just spill out naturally, like they were meant to be said all along. but now, facing the reality of it, the vulnerability felt like mountain. 

So instead of speaking, you did something else. something quieter, something that felt less like a declaration and more like a question. slowly, almost hesitantly, you reached your hand out, just brushing your fingertips against his. you didn’t look at him; you kept your gaze fixed forward, pretending to focus on the TV, as if you hadn’t just made that small, brave movement. the room seemed to shrink around you, the silence between you both suddenly stretching out, more palpable than ever.

for a moment, you weren’t sure if he’d even noticed. Maybe it was too subtle, too small a gesture to register. But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw his head turn, his gaze flicking down to where your hand rested next to his. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, everything inside you stilled.

then, without saying a word, sunghoon’s fingers curled around yours, gently but firmly. He didn’t pull away. he didn’t hesitate. he just... took your hand. It wasn’t a dramatic gesture, but it was more than you had expected. your stomach did a somersault as warmth spread through you, starting at the point where your fingers touched, and radiating outward. your skin burned, and you could feel the flush creeping up your neck, your face. 

the world around you seemed to fade as you sat there, hand clasped in his. you were so acutely aware of everything—the warmth of his touch, the soft pressure of his fingers against yours, the slow, steady rhythm of your breath. It was the closest you had ever been to him, in every way that mattered, and it felt like both everything and nothing at once. the simplicity of the act, his hand in yours, was enough to make your heart race. the gentle squeeze of his hand seemed to echo through you, sending a ripple of something warm and unspoken deep inside your chest. 

but you didn’t move. you stayed frozen in place, not daring to disturb the moment, not wanting to break whatever fragile connection you had just forged. your heart pounded in your ears, and the more you sat there, the more everything inside you seemed to tighten—like a knot pulling at your insides. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so vulnerable, but you couldn’t seem to pull away either.

for a few seconds, neither of you spoke, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to. The silence felt like it was filled with a thousand unspoken words, each one hanging between you like a delicate thread. finally, Sunghoon shifted slightly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, soothing motion, as if to confirm that this was real. That he wasn’t going anywhere. 

you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but when you did, just a quick glance to the side, you saw him watching you—his eyes soft, the usual calm expression on his face now laced with something else. something deeper. maybe he could feel it too. the electricity that wonyoung had mentioned, the tension you hadn’t known how to name.

the words you wanted to say felt even further out of reach now, lodged in your throat like a lump you couldn’t swallow. but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. in that moment, you weren’t sure if you needed to say anything at all. maybe the feeling, the connection between you, spoke louder than anything you could put into words.

still, with your heart beating faster than you thought possible, you squeezed his hand back, just slightly, in response. And though neither of you said a word, it felt like the start of something new—something quietly, beautifully uncertain, just hanging there in the air between you both.

it wasn’t a promise, not yet. but it was enough, for now.

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the days had ticked by, each one blurring into the next, the anticipation of sunghoon’s departure hanging over you like a storm cloud. it was the night of his departure now, and you couldn’t escape the feeling of dread gnawing at your stomach. despite all the time that had passed, despite everything that had happened - the moments of shared glances, the way his hand had felt in yours - nothing had come of it. you hadn’t been able to find the courage to say the one thing that had been consuming you. 

the night had crept up so quickly, and now here you were, standing on the precipice of something you were too scared to face. his luggage was already packed, sitting by the door, ready to go. the knowledge of his impending departure made the air feel thick, suffocating. he was leaving soon, and you were still standing here, frozen in this quiet, impossible space between wanting to say something, anything, and not knowing how to. 

you had never felt so lost, so desperate, so deeply in love with someone and completely clueless about what to do with it. Your heart ached every time you thought about the distance that was about to grow between you. 

sunghoon walked into the main living area, a smile on his face as he picked up his bags, but as soon as you saw him, something felt off. that smile, it was there, but there was something sad about it, something weighing him down. for a moment, the rest of the room disappeared, your gaze was locked on him, and the reality of him leaving hit you harder than you thought it would. 

behind him, wonyoung trailed quietly, her usual fuzzy energy subdued tonight, as if she could feel the heaviness of the moment too. she looked at you as she walked by, and gave you a look, as if trying to signal you to do something. then, almost as if on cue, she quickly excused herself, making some excuse to go greet a friend in the hallway. it was a subtle, unspoken thing, but you knew. you knew she was giving you the space, the time you needed, and probably a nudge to do something. 

Sunghoon stood there, his eyes searching yours as he adjusted the straps on his bag. The silence between you felt like it stretched on forever. He gave a quiet, almost melancholy sigh, and then, in a soft voice, he said, "This was fun." 

the words were simple, but they hit you like a brick to the chest. you could hear the weight in them, the bittersweet finality of his departure hanging in the air like smoke. ‘this was fun.’ It was the kind of thing you’d say when you didn’t know what else to say, but in that moment, it was more than just that. It felt like an ending. a goodbye.

your legs felt shaky as you stood up from your seat, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your heart in your throat. every inch of your body screamed to move, to do something, anything, to make this moment more than just a quiet exchange of words before he walked out the door and disappeared from your life. 

you walked over to him, your steps uncertain, but each one felt like it was pulling you toward something you couldn’t ignore anymore. you stopped just in front of him, close enough that you could see every detail - the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the soft brown of his eyes that you had gotten so used to over the past weeks. he was standing there, looking at you, and for a moment, everything in the world seemed to disappear except the two of you. 

tears welled up in your eyes, unbidden, as your chest tightened. how could you let him leave when you hadn’t even told him how you felt? you tried to speak, but your throat closed up, the words tangled somewhere in the back of your mind. you could barely think straight, your mind a mess of emotions and the rush of adrenaline flooding your body. 

before you even realized what you were doing, you reached out, pulling him into a tight hug. you buried your face in his chest, your whole body shaking with the force of the emotions crashing through you. the tears that had been threatening to fall finally broke free, hot and heavy, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. 

at first, he stiffened in your arms, and you felt a pang of regret, like maybe you’d done something wrong—like maybe you were crossing a line. then, to your surprise, he melted into the hug. his arms wrapped around you, warm and solid, pulling you closer as though he had been waiting for this too. you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. 

you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, just holding each other, the world outside fading into the background. your tears continued to fall, but now it wasn’t just sadness. There was a strange sense of relief mixed in with the pain. like finally, something had been said between you, even if it wasn’t with words. 

you held onto him tighter, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like you were trying to hold onto him for dear life. The feeling of him, of his warmth, of his presence, made everything feel raw and real. you had no idea what was going to happen next, but for this moment, for this breath in time, you didn’t care. you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

he didn’t say anything. he didn’t need to. his arms around you, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, said everything that needed to be said. the ache in your chest was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp anymore. In this embrace, it was softened by the connection between you both. 

as the minutes passed, you couldn’t help but think - this wasn’t the end, not really. It couldn’t be. not with everything that had been left unsaid, not with the way you felt when you were near him. 

he lowered his head slowly, pressing his lips to the top of your head, his breath warm against your skin. it was gentle, like he was trying to hold on to the moment as long as possible. then, without pulling away, he lifted his head just enough to whisper softly, almost as if he were sharing a secret with the world only meant for the two of you: 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

the words were quiet, but they hit you with the force of a thousand unspoken emotions. it wasn’t grand; it wasn’t a loud proclamation. It was simple, gentle, and so incredibly, him, and somehow, it was perfect. When picturing a confession of love you always imagined more, a dramatic confession like one in the movies. despite your imaginings as a child, this quiet, intimate confession felt like everything you needed, it was perfect. 

as his words settled around you, something inside of you released. that knot of emotions - of fear, of longing, of the weight of everything you’d been holding in - unraveled all at once. the tension that had been building for so long, the feeling that something was always just out of reach, was finally gone. you felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from your chest. 

for a long moment, you just stood there, staring up at him. your eyes were red from crying, but in that moment, all you could feel was an overwhelming rush of relief, and joy, it felt like you could finally breathe again.

“i love you too,” you whispered, the words spilling out more easily than you’d expected, like they had always been sitting on the edge of your tongue, just waiting for the right time to escape. 

it was simple. there were no grand gestures, no sweeping speeches. it didn’t need to be anything more than this. the words themselves held so much power, so much weight, that nothing else could compare. 

his eyes softened as he looked down at you, and you saw the way they flickered with emotion, something raw and real in the depths of his gaze. he didn’t say anything. he didn’t need to. the silence between you was filled with everything you’d both been too afraid to say until now. 

then, he leaned down, tilting his head ever so slightly, and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, as if he was making sure you were really there, really with him in that moment. then it deepened, and the softness turned into something more needy, more urgent. 

your hands instinctively reached up to run through his hair, threading your fingers through the soft strands, pulling him closer. His hand slid around your back, tracing the line of your spine with a tenderness that made your breath catch. his lips moved against yours with a quiet desperation, a sense of longing that seemed to echo the way you had felt all this time but had never known how to express. 

every cell in your body seemed to come alive. the kiss felt like everything you had been waiting for - every moment, every touch, every word that had been left unsaid - it was all pouring into this one instant. in that moment, you knew. you knew that this was where you were supposed to be. There was no question. No uncertainty. Everything about this felt right.

your heart raced in your chest, and your whole body seemed to hum with the intensity of the kiss. it was as if the universe had aligned in this perfect moment, pulling the two of you together in a way that felt inevitable. you were no longer two separate people standing on the edge of something unknown. you were together, and nothing else seemed to matter.

you didn’t want to pull away. you didn’t want this feeling to end, the heat of his body so close to yours, the way everything seemed to fall into place with every soft press of his lips. The world outside didn’t exist anymore. There was only him, only this moment, and the overwhelming certainty that everything had changed in the best way possible.

as the kiss deepened, you felt the warmth of his hands moving down your back, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt. The way his touch sent sparks through your skin, igniting something deep inside you, made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t known you could. you pulled him closer, wanting more, wanting to stay wrapped in the feeling of being so completely connected with him.

when you finally, reluctantly, pulled away for a breath, your foreheads rested together, both of you panting lightly, still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss. his eyes were closed for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and when he opened them again, the look he gave you was full of something unspoken - a promise, maybe, or just the overwhelming weight of everything that had passed between you.

"i don't want to leave," he said, his voice low, rough, as if he were still processing everything himself.

you smiled, your thumb brushing over the side of his cheek. "then don’t," you whispered, your heart daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this story than either of you had realized.

for now, though, this moment - this kiss - was everything, and it was perfect, just as it was.

[takamiwife]

hawks x pregnant reader?... either his kid or someone else's doesn't matter, as long as he's loving sweet and spoiling tf out the baby ❤️ he would be soooo good w postpartum care. im sure he's helped deliver kids in emergency situations - 🌕

thank you for the request! this is adorable <33 sorry this took a while </3 schools been kicking my ass

but anyways

this man is literally meant to be a father

when you told him you were pregnant, his reaction was: “we’re having a baby?” (shocked) -> “we’re having a baby?” (terrified) -> “we’re having a baby?!” (over the moon ecstatic)

your pregnancy wasn’t planned, so admittedly he was very nervous. he always expected to have kids when he had taken a load off of his hero work, and as soon as you asked if you two should reconsider, he immediately stopped you

“no, no, no. i’m.. i’m ready. as long as you are.”

of course he wifed you up IMMEDIATELY

he can’t have you walking around with his baby without a ring on your finger!

for a short period of time, it was extremely stressful and hectic. you wanted to get your wedding done early on in your pregnancy so you could still fit into your dream dress, and keigo was balancing trying to work a lot to try and make the city the most secure he could for when the baby arrived while also wanting to be home with you, but you two found a way to do it. you postponed your honeymoon until a few months after the baby was born (hey, you’d need it then anyways), so the beginning of your marriage was filled with baby-proofing your now shared apartment and setting up a nursery

everyday when he’d wake you up, he’d kiss you on the forehead, then on your growing bump

this man would come home EVERYDAY with baby stuff, “i saw it in a store while on patrol, wouldn’t this be perfect?”

plus, he’d find the exact vitamins you should take and got them for you, wanting you and the baby to be as healthy as possible

he’d insist you don’t lift a single finger, especially since you went through a lot of stress early on with rapidly planning your wedding, but you convinced him to let you be able to help with the baby’s room

whenever you two are alone together, his hand is like, CONSTANTLY on your stomach

he cried when he felt the baby kick

you guys would celebrate every trimester with a little cake with candles on it

you often got late night cravings, and you always told him not to worry about it, but he insisted because he just so happened to be craving the same thing, so it really wasn’t a problem

rubs your back and holds your hair during morning sickness, and is so patient with you with mood swings

when you really started to show and you couldn’t fit into your old clothes, you broke down crying about how you felt so bad about yourself, and he was genuinely so confused because you had never looked more beautiful to him

nevertheless, he took you out shopping the next day for maternity clothes

he’d love buying onesies and bringing them home to “show off” to the baby, aka holding the onesie up to your stomach

“just remember that daddy picked this one out for you, not mommy, so this one has to be your favorite, okay?”

“you are gonna be the best dressed baby in town”

he’d also have the room filled with toys

“oh, i just saw it in a store window and thought it’d be perfect”

you actually had to stop him bc you were quickly running out of room

he’d have your hospital bag packed and ready by the door a month and a half before you were due

so when your water broke, this man was READY

he was right next to you the whole time, encouraging you and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed

so when the baby was finally born, you handed them to him, and he was so, so scared

it all suddenly felt so real

and the baby looked like a perfect combination of the two of you. but they had your eyes. your perfect, loving eyes

he tried to bite back the tears as he gently brushed his finger along the baby’s face

“hey there.. i’m your daddy.. nice to finally meet you, you’ve been giving your mommy lotsa problems these past few months, kiddo.”

he’d kiss their head, still trying to hold back tears. he promised himself that he would be the best goddamn father he could be. better than his deadbeat dad ever could be. your baby would never doubt that they were loved, they’d never wonder where there next meal would come from, and they sure as hell would never be scared of him

postpartum was a bit hard for you, but keigo was there every step of the way. he was a boat in a dark sea, and you knew that you weren’t going through it alone. he got as much time off of work as he could to try and be there for you and the baby, but he still never felt like it was enough

he’d always make sure you knew you were absolutely adored no matter what your brain was telling you, and made sure to take as many of the responsibilities off of you as possible on particularly hard days

not once did you get up at night to feed them or change their diaper. he would always immediately turn the baby monitor off, creeping quietly down the hallway to their room, and would stay with them as long as it took for them to get back to sleep. he was used to having a fucked up sleep schedule, so this was no problem for him

he takes pictures constantly

everyone at work is constantly getting updates on the baby, and you guys started taking monthly family photos, which he rotates out on his desk

you guys know how (unfortunately) a lot of women have to beg their husbands to take care of the baby so they can go shower?

well that’s not you

as soon he gets home, he scoops the baby up, telling you that it’s your time now

“i’ve been gone all day! it’s my turn with the baby, go on, i already started the bath for you” and the bathroom has lit candles, a bath bomb in the warm tub, and one of those little bathtub desk things for a drink and an ipad (yall pls know what i’m talking about 😭)

it’s a constant competition for the baby saying “mama” or “dada” first

one day, the baby just would not. stop. crying. no matter what you guys did, it seems that they would never cease. overstimulated and running out of ideas, keigo strapped a baby wrap to his chest and stuck them in it

“keigo, what are you doing?”

“we’re goin’ for a ride. it always helps me calm down”

“wh- you can’t take the baby flying!”

“they’re my kid, they’ll be fine!”

“oh my god- okay, don’t go too fast, or i swear to god-“

“relax, baby, i got this” he flashed his charming smile at you, and you only sighed

“be back in one piece, okay?”

despite being known as the man who’s too fast for his own good, keigo enjoyed a calm, slow flight. as soon as he hit the air, the baby seemed to immediately stop crying; and as the baby looked up at him with those big, round eyes, keigo realized just how lucky he was to be able to fall in love with those eyes twice in his life

“there ya go kiddo, i knew you just needed some air. just like your dad, hm?”

and he had never felt more proud

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER ONE !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ no matter what you do or who you’re with, rafe is the thorn in your side that persists.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ drinking, rafe’s a bitch.

003. NOTE !

✯ the italics part is meant to be past, normal is present. not a lot of rafe in this part, but we’re building up the tension, bear with me guys. also this is short n’ sweet, but it was either this or waiting like a week sooo 🤗

word count : 3,1k

Summer is, without a doubt, your favourite season of the year—a time when everything seems a little brighter, warmer, and full of promise. But above all, it’s the chance for romance that makes it truly special. As the breeze grazes your skin, you're struck with all the endless possibilities for a breezy, passionate fling. Summer brings not just warmth, but the promise of memories waiting to be made.

Perhaps that is why this summer feels different, why you're filled with a sensation you are not used to. Because, in true you fashion, you cannot help but fall for the first guy that makes eye contact with you. It’s as if that single look, just a fleeting connection, has already set something in motion within you. It doesn't really matter who they are, you just hope they're decent enough that when the summer ends you won't wallow until the next one.

Despite everything you’ve always been told—that Kooks and Pogues live in separate worlds, that some lines are best left uncrossed—you can’t help but feel all that advice slip away in a single moment. A single glance across the bonfire, a glint of warmth and interest in his eyes, has you questioning every cautionary tale you've ever heard. 

He lifts his hand in a simple wave, and without thinking, you lift yours in return. He smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, helpless against the pull he seems to have over you. It’s such a small exchange, yet it sends a thrill through you. So simply, your heart is already in the hands of a Kook that probably doesn't even know your name.

For a single moment, just when you finally let your guard down and begin to lose yourself in the summer night, you feel a hard shove against your shoulder. The unexpected force nearly sends you toppling, and you stumble awkwardly to keep your footing. A quick flash of irritation floods your mind, and as you turn, you see the culprit—and, oh, if it isn’t the most predictable sight in the world.

It’s Rafe Cameron. Of course, it is. He moves through the crowd like he owns it, barely glancing your way, as if you’re invisible, or worse, just an obstacle on his path to whatever or whoever he’s fixated on. 

“Watch it, Kook!” You shout at him, your voice sharp, as you glare down at the mess now soaking into the sand, the drink he so casually spilled with his careless shove. Typical Rafe—he couldn’t just bump into you and keep walking; no, he had to leave a mark, a small reminder of how easy it is for him to disrupt whatever, or whoeever, is in his way.

There’s no point in trying to get Rafe to acknowledge his mistakes. He wouldn’t care, and honestly, why waste the energy? Annoyed, you make your way toward the drink stand, trying to shake off the aggravation and enjoy what’s left of the night. The makeshift bar is stocked with copious amounts of beer, a few murky-looking bottles of whiskey, and vodka that looks questionably watered down. You sigh, filling a red cup and trying to hold on to a sliver of the excitement you felt earlier. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, to forget the rude shove and, disappointingly, to forget the boy you shared glances with.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts as you lift the cup to your lips, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, and there he is—the guy from across the bonfire, standing right in front of you, his expression soft but earnest. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Huh?” The word slips out, and for a moment, you forget all about the spilled drink, the scowl on your face, even Rafe Cameron’s entitled shove. The memory of the night seems to blur, leaving just this moment, this exchange. You’re left with that same rush from earlier, only more intense now, standing close enough to see the way the firelight reflects in his eyes. 

“He shoved you, right?” he asks, raising his voice slightly so it cuts through the noise around you. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes, and he leans in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of saltwater and something earthy, maybe cedar. “Or did I mistake you for someone else?”

“No, no,” you reply, shaking your head, a small, sheepish smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “That was me, unfortunately. Rafe Cameron’s idea of saying ‘excuse me,’ I guess.”

He laughs, a low sound that somehow makes the rest of the chaotic night fade into the background. “Sounds about right,” he says with a shrug, like he knows exactly the kind of person Rafe is—and isn’t surprised in the slightest. His gaze lingers on you, though, holding a warmth and sincerity that feels like a stark contrast to everything you just experienced. It’s as if he’s actually seeing you, not just some girl who got shoved around in the crowd.

“So… can I get you another drink?” he asks, nodding toward your mostly empty cup. “You know, as a ‘sorry for my obnoxious friend’ kind of thing.”

"I don’t even know your name,” you say, keeping your tone casual, though you can feel a flicker of heat rising in your cheeks. Of course, you do. But he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught on to your feigned innocence but decides to play along. “Is that so?” he asks, a grin curving on his lips. “Well, then. I guess that makes us strangers, doesn’t it?”

You bite back a smile, shrugging, as if the flutter in your chest is no big deal. “I suppose it does.”

He extends his hand, the light from the bonfire casting a warm glow on his face. “I’m Joshua, but you can call me Josh.” he says, as though you hadn’t already heard the name whispered among your friends a hundred times. “And you are?”

“YN,” you say softly, letting your name slip past your lips like a secret, as if saying it too loudly might break the spell of this moment.

“Well, YN,” he drawls, your name slipping off his lips like honey, rich and warm. Somehow, in the noise and firelight, it sounds sweeter coming from him than you’ve ever heard it before. “Can I get you a drink?”

You hesitate, just for a second, but then you nod, feeling a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “I’d like that, yeah,” you say, and suddenly, youre not so ready for the night to end.

As you lie peacefully on the beach, your head resting on Josh’s chest and the sun’s warm rays caressing your skin, a deep contentment settles over you. The waves roll in rhythmically, their soft crashing mixing with the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. 

Josh’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, a quiet gesture that says so much without a word. Somehow, these last days have passed in a perfect blur, each moment with him slipping effortlessly into the next. It’s as if the rest of the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the freedom of these warm summer days.

It hasn’t been more than three days, you’re sure. But in the rush of everything—of his touch, of the laughter, of the long talks that stretch into the night—it feels like so much more. It doesn’t matter, though. Summer is fleeting by nature, and relationships, much like the warmth of the sun, can’t last forever. You’ve always known that.

Maybe that’s why things feel so easy with Josh. There’s no pressure, no rush to figure it all out. You don’t need a lifetime to know that this connection is real, even if it’s only for now.

“I was thinking…” he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as it tickles your ear. “Why don’t you come with me to a party? It’s very casual.”

You turn your head slightly so you can look at him, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. “Where?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Just… at a friend’s house,” he replies, his words vague, as though he’s trying to keep something hidden. You sense it, the hesitation, like he’s afraid the full truth will make you back out.

“Okay… whose house?” you ask, your voice a bit firmer now, wanting a little more clarity.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic groan, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. But the second he crosses a line, I’m out. Don’t try to stop me.”

Josh raises his hands, feigning innocence, though there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. “Deal,” he says with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’m serious,” you press, your voice soft but your gaze steady, locking onto his as if to underline your words. You want him to know you’re not playing around; Rafe has crossed too many lines before, and you’re not about to give him any more chances.

Josh’s grin softens into something more earnest as he takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know. And I won’t let him pull anything. I’ll be right there with you.”

You nod, reassured—well, mostly. There’s still a twinge of anxiety at the thought of walking into Rafe’s space. But with Josh by your side, it feels like a risk worth taking. You take a deep breath, pushing away the doubts, letting yourself focus on the warmth of his hand in yours.

You know you’ll probably regret being so compliant later, but in this moment, under the warm sun and the gentle pull of his charm, you can’t find it within yourself to care. Not right now, anyway.

The party is at its peak when you step inside with Josh, his hand a steady presence on the small of your back. People weave around, stumbling and laughing, drinks sloshing as they chug another round. The air is thick with the smell of beer and perfume, the music pounding loud enough to shake the floor.

Tannyhill is enormous, every inch of it polished and perfect. Compared to the flimsy house you call home, this level of luxury feels surreal, almost insulting—like you’re trespassing in a world you’re not meant to be a part of.

“You good?” Josh’s voice is low against your ear, his fingers pressing lightly, reassuringly, into your back.

“Yeah,” you manage, glancing around at the high ceilings and spotless marble floors. “Big house,” you mumble, trying to play it off, but Josh catches the edge of awe in your voice and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sometimes I forget,” he says with a smile, “that this is all just… normal to me. It’s weird, huh?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A little.” There’s an underlying discomfort, a feeling of not quite fitting in, but with Josh beside you, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

As you navigate through the crowd, you spot Rafe across the room, casually leaning against a table, a smirk on his face as he watches the crowd unfold around him. His gaze shifts, and for a brief second, his eyes lock onto yours, his smirk turning into something sharper, something that sends a prickle of irritation through you.

Josh notices and gives your hand a squeeze, as if grounding you. “Remember our deal,” he murmurs, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

“Right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting it go, trying to shake off the feeling of being under Rafe’s watch. Tonight, you tell yourself, is about being with Josh, about experiencing his world—even if only for a night.

There are barely any Pogues here, you realize, glancing around at the faces in the crowd. Maybe a few who hover on the edges, those who toe the line between a bad season of hard luck and those who might actually crawl and beg to be part of the Kooks’ world. They’re the ones who keep their heads down, wearing uncomfortable clothes, trying to blend in without drawing attention.

You feel the difference even more now, the gap between you and this place, this crowd. Everyone here is effortlessly at ease, basking in the privilege that’s been theirs since birth. And yet here you are, standing in the middle of it all, aware of every sideways glance, every slightly raised eyebrow as you pass by.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask again, your voice low, almost like you’re bracing yourself for Rafe or one of his friends to notice you and kick you out.

Josh squeezes your hand, his expression softening. “Of course. They don’t care, really,” he says, his tone steady, almost casual, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You wish you could believe him. You’ve noticed, over these past few days, how little Josh seems to care about the whole Kook and Pogue divide. He doesn’t see you as an outsider, doesn’t seem to register the tension that hums just beneath the surface. To him, it’s all irrelevant, a line drawn in the sand that doesn’t matter. It’s refreshing—and it’s blinding.

Because Josh’s indifference almost fooled you into thinking the world works that way, too. Like the Kooks and Pogues can just coexist, that the labels and histories are meaningless. But tonight, standing in this mansion with strangers’ eyes glancing your way, you feel the weight of it again, the silent reminders that you don’t belong.

He notices the hesitation in your eyes, the way you’re pulling back, and his hand slides to your shoulder, a gentle reminder that he’s here with you. “Listen,” he murmurs, leaning close so only you can hear, “I don’t care about any of that, and if anyone else does… well, that’s their problem. You’re with me.”

His words are a comfort, but they’re not enough to erase the uneasy feeling that lingers. You force a smile, hoping he can’t see the doubt flickering there, and nod. “Right. I’m with you.”

For the slightest moment you feel at ease, but almost like clockwork, the grating voice of Rafe Cameron breaks your reverie, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Hey, man,” he greets, slapping a hand on Josh’s back in that familiar, boy-ish way.

“What’s up, Rafe?” Josh replies, his smile wide, clearly used to this dynamic, his tone casual and easygoing.

“Nothing much, just trying to keep everything at bay,” Rafe responds, his voice dripping with indifference as he talks like you’re not even standing there. Like you don’t exist in this moment, and it stings more than it should.

“Cool,” Josh shifts slightly, turning toward you. “I’m sure you’ve met YN, hope it’s all good that I brought her?”

At that, Rafe finally looks at you. The weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle, and for a moment, you almost squirm under it. “Yup, all good,” Rafe says, his voice laced with something colder, something discomforting. “I said you could bring anyone… and you did.”

The way he says it is so backhanded, so typical of him. You can practically hear the unspoken judgement in his words, feel it in the way he looks at you, sizing you up.

You’re not surprised, of course—this is Rafe, after all—but the little jab only adds to the discomfort that’s been creeping up on you all evening. You force a tight smile, but it feels too small, too weak for what’s really going on inside. Still, you keep your eyes on Josh, hoping he doesn’t notice how the atmosphere has shifted, how Rafe’s presence has twisted everything just enough to make you feel smaller than you are.

“Well, enjoy the party,” Rafe says, his smile almost too practised, like he’s delivering a line he’s said a hundred times before. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s meant to keep things cordial, even if the undercurrent of judgement is thick enough to cut through.

“We will,” Josh replies easily, not missing a beat, his voice smooth and unbothered, as though none of the tension is hanging in the air.

Josh’s hand finds yours, his fingers warm against your skin as he gently pulls you away from the conversation. But as you pass by Rafe, you hear him lean in slightly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Not too much, yeah?”

It’s a whisper, but it feels like a slap. You can feel your brows furrow instinctively, the words gnawing at you. You’re tempted, so tempted, to turn around and shove him and ask, What the hell is wrong with you?

But you don’t.

Instead, you let Josh lead you away, his hand tightening around yours in a subtle reassurance. The music swells, the noise of the party grows louder, but it all feels distant now, like a blur around the sharp edge of Rafe’s comment. You try to ignore it, try to shake it off, but it clings to you, sticking in your chest like a splinter.

Even as you move through the crowd, you know that this night isn’t just about the music or the people—it’s about the silent things too. The things you can’t control, the things you have to push past in order to keep moving.

And Rafe Cameron is the one thing you can’t push past, no matter how hard you try. The one who thinks he can push you down, who sees you as something beneath him, a reminder of everything he’s convinced he’s better than.

But if there’s one thing he needs to know, it’s that you don’t go out without a fight. He might have the money, the reputation, the home twice the size of anywhere you’ve ever lived, but he will not ruin your summer. 

He’s attempted to get under your skin before and failed. And you’re not about to let this be any different. The summer isn’t his to take from you, no matter how hard he tries. He’s not a force you’re willing to let derail everything good about these days. Not the warmth of the sun, not the nights you spend with Josh, not the taste of freedom you’ve felt since you stepped into his world.

You’ll be damned if you let Rafe Cameron, of all people, get in the way of that.