#They slow blink to show admiration and love

[goldemas1244]

Okay but Yautja husbands 🤎

[sushiyuzu]

my turn

warning: fluff + comfort — it is finally your turn to return your devoted love and affection to soft!sylus 🤍

a/n: hi anon! many thanks for ur sweet words and request, i hope you enjoy <3

anon’s request / link: click here

hmm.

you’ve never seen sylus this quiet before.

you’ve always known sylus to be the confident one—the serious, bold, intimidating man who always seems to have everything under control. he’s the one who teases you with his smooth, elegant words, who pulls you close with a charming smile that makes your heart race. but today, you decide it’s your turn to change things up.

he’s sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book with that focused expression he gets when he’s deep into something. you take a moment to watch him, admiring his handsome face and the way his silver hair falls over his forehead. you’ve never seen him look so calm, so peaceful. a playful idea forms in your mind, and before you can second-guess it, you move closer.

you slip into his lap without warning, wrapping your arms around his neck. his eyes widen, his crimson gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“what are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, the usual edge of authority still there. you smile and lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“nothing,” you say softly, your lips brushing his skin. “just loving you.”

before he can respond, you kiss him again—this time on the other cheek, then on his jaw, your fingers threading through his silver hair. you can feel his body tense beneath you, his posture rigid like he’s not sure how to handle your sudden affection.

“you’re being... very forward,” he murmurs, his deep voice wavering slightly. clearly, he’s trying to keep his composure, but you can see the blush creeping up his cheeks, the way his eyes are flickering with uncertainty. it’s just so unlike him that it makes you giggle.

“i can’t help it,” you say, tightening your arms around him, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. “you’re just so handsome.” your voice is soft and sincere, and you watch as his confident mask slips just a little.

he swallows, his crimson eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly not used to you being this bold.

you decide to push him further, to see just how flustered you can make him. “i love you,” you whisper against his ear, your voice sweet and affectionate. you press a kiss to his temple, then his nose, then his lips. he freezes, his breath hitching, and you can feel the way his heartbeat racing against your chest.

“what has gotten into you?” sylus asks, his usual smooth tone cracking just a bit. he looks genuinely taken aback, his elegant words faltering as you continue to pepper his face with soft kisses. you giggle again, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck.

“just loving you,” you say again, more firmly this time.

“you always take care of me, so now it’s my turn to show you how much you mean to me.” you smile, your eyes shining with warmth, and he blinks at you like he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

and that almost makes you burst out laughing.

keyword: almost.

“you’re... ridiculous,” he mutters, his voice low and unsteady, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only a soft, shaky vulnerability. his hands settle on your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear. “you’re supposed to be the shy one, not me.”

you smile wider, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “maybe i’m tired of being shy,” you tease gently. “maybe i want you to be the one who blushes for once.”

his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s about to say something clever, but the words seem to catch in his throat. instead, he just stares at you, his crimson gaze searching your face, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep his usual composure. you feel a surge of affection for him—this strong, confident man who’s so easily undone by your love.

so you kiss him again, long and slow, your hands framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his high cheekbones. this time, he doesn’t resist. he melts into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist, squeezing your flesh gently and you feel him shudder against you. when you finally pull back, his face is flushed, his breathing uneven, and he looks... shy. truly shy, like he’s never been before.

“you’re... unbelievable,” he says softly, his voice a little hoarse, his eyes half-lidded and warm. you can see the struggle in him—wanting to regain control, to be the calm and composed sylus that you know, but your gentle touches are making it impossible for him to act like his usual self.

and it drives him nervously crazy.

“so are you,” you reply, kissing his forehead. you can see him fighting the blush that’s spreading across his cheeks, his eyes glancing away like he’s embarrassed, and it makes your heart swell with warmth. you cup his face, guiding his gaze back to yours, and you can see the way he’s holding back a smile.

“you really are beautiful, you know that?” you say, your voice gentle and sincere. “i don’t tell you that enough.” you lean closer, pressing your lips to his ear. “you mean the world to me, sylus. i love you so much.”

you feel him tremble beneath you, his grip on your waist tightening, and you pull back just enough to see his expression—completely soft, completely open. he’s not trying to hide anymore, and there’s something incredibly sweet about seeing him this vulnerable, this undone by your love.

“you’re going to make me go insane,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, and there’s a rough, raw honesty in his tone that takes your breath away. he’s not used to being the one overwhelmed, but he’s not pushing you away, either. instead, he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a shaky breath.

“then let’s go insane together,” you say softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. he makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, and kisses you back—slow and deep and so full of emotion that it makes your heart skip a beat.

you pull away just enough to see his face—his eyes half-lidded, his cheeks a warm shade of pink, and his expression so soft it makes your chest ache.

“you don’t have to be perfect with me,” you whisper, brushing a strand of silver hair away from his forehead. “i love you just as you are.”

he’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours, and then he smiles—a real, gentle smile that makes his ruby eyes shine. “i love you most, sweetie.” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, and you hug him tight, burying your face in his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can feel the way he’s finally letting go of that careful, controlled exterior. he’s just sylus now—your sylus, the one who loves you with all his heart, who isn’t afraid to show you his softer side.

oh, he’s so in love.

only with you.

just you, forever.

while you’re lost in the warmth of his hug, you suddenly feel his lips touch your shoulder. there’s a small, teasing pause, and then he gently nibbles at your skin—a light bite that makes you shiver. you gasp quietly, your heart fluttering with surprise, but before you can even react, he follows it with a soft, gentle kiss, pressing his lips where he cutely bit you. the touch is warm and comforting, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“sylus,” you whisper his name, a little surprised but mostly filled with affection, and he laughs quietly, the sound low and sweet. he’s still holding you close, his breath warm against your neck, and you can feel that he’s smiling—like he’s happy to share this new, tender closeness with you.

and deep down, that makes you giddy.

“i couldn’t resist,” he says in a soft whisper, his voice gentle and playful in your ear. his tone still carries a hint of his usual confidence, but it’s softer now. his arms pull you even closer, and you can feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart as you lean against his chest.

“you’re just too tempting,” he adds, his lips brushing your shoulder again. you can’t help but laugh softly, holding him tighter, your arms wrapped around his neck. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling warmth spread through you—a feeling of love that fills every corner of your heart.

“and you,” you say softly, your voice full of love, “are absolutely perfect.”

he makes a quiet, happy sound, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. you can feel him smile against your skin, his warmth so close and comforting. his fingers start to trace gentle patterns on your back, moving slowly, and you can tell he’s calm and relaxed. his breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and you feel safe and happy in his arms.

you stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a long time. the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing, and it feels like the rest of the world has disappeared. his strong, big arms keep you close, and you can feel every bit of him—the warmth of his chest, the softness of his breath, the way he holds you like he never wants to let go.

you lift your head slightly, just enough to look into his sweet eyes. there’s something more softer in them now, something that’s just for you.

only for you.

you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and warm, and he kisses you back, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek. you feel his thumb gently brush your skin, and he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-closed and his face relaxed. he looks softer, more open than ever before, and it makes your heart ache with love.

you give him one more quick kiss on the tip of his nose, making him chuckle softly. he tightens his arms around you, holding you so close that you can feel the warmth of his body all around you.

“i love you,” you whisper, and you say it again, over and over, softly against his skin—each “i love you” gentle and full of emotion. he closes his eyes, listening, and you feel the way he relaxes even more, like each word you say fills him with warmth.

he lets out a quiet sigh, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, and you can feel him melt into your touch. his strong, protective exterior has softened, and you can see a slight blush on his cheeks, a sign that he’s a little overwhelmed by all the affection you’re giving him. but he doesn’t move away. he just stays right there, holding you tightly, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, soaking up every bit of your love.

you don’t let go either. instead, you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his warm breath fanning your skin while his fingers continue to gently stroke your back.

you’re both wrapped up in a safe, warm bubble where nothing else matters except the two of you, and you know that this—being with sylus, being this close—is all you’ll ever need. and you know, in that moment, that this is exactly where you belong—right here in his arms, loving him with all the warmth and affection he truly deserves.

[kasiers]

a/n: based on this canon fact of gojo <3

gojo satoru is an early riser. he always, and i mean always wakes up way before you do.

but last night, he came home really late. exhausted from yet another one of his long missions. this morning was different, you wake up first. the clock showing that it's just barely past 7 am.

the room is filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by his soft, steady breathing. you shift slightly, careful not to wake him, and admire him, feeling a wave of affection wash over you.

it's rare to see him so still, without the burdens of the world weighing on him. you remember the countless mornings where he wakes you with a playful nudge or a kiss, always full of energy despite his late nights.

as if sensing your gaze, satoru's eyes slowly flutter open. he blinks a few times, adjusting to the light, and then his eyes meet yours. a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face.

“mornin' ,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

you smile back, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “morning handsome,” you whisper.

he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you, and you nestle against him, savoring the warmth of his body.

“you should sleep more,” you murmur, concern in your voice.

“i'm okay,” he replies softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “besides, waking up next to you is worth losing a bit of sleep.”

you chuckle softly, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “you're so cheesy,” you tease.

satoru's fingers gently caress your back as he holds you close. “i mean it,” he says, his voice sincere.

you look up into his azure eyes, seeing the depth of his love reflected. “i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too,” he replies, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

[pucksandpower]

Actually, It’s Doctor

Max Verstappen x doctor!Reader

Summary: you worked hard to earn your title and Max is determined to make sure everyone shows you proper respect by using it

Warnings: misogyny and Jos Verstappen

The soft glow of the TV casts flickering shadows across Max’s living room as he lounges on the couch, idly scrolling through Twitter. You’re tucked into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you watch the highlights from last week’s race play on a loop.

“Liefje, have you seen these?” Max’s brow furrows as he angles his phone toward you.

Onscreen, the camera pans across the Red Bull garage, finally settling on you perched on a stool in the far corner. “... And there’s Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,” the commentator’s voice booms out.

You shrug, unfazed. “It’s not a big deal.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Not a big deal? Y/N, you worked your ass off to become a doctor. You deserve to be addressed properly.”

Reaching out, you place a calming hand on his arm. “Really, it doesn’t bother me. I know who I am.”

Max’s jaw tenses mulishly. “Well it bothers me. They can’t just disrespect you like that on international television.” He jabs a finger accusingly at the screen as the video replays the offending line.

“Max ...” You try to interject, but he’s already dialing, phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Hey mate, it’s Max. I need you to do me a favor ...”

You settle back with a resigned sigh, listening as Max lays out his grievances in rapid-fire Dutch. He’s not going to let this go, you can already tell.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Max ends the call with a satisfied nod before turning to you with those intense grey eyes. “There, all sorted.”

Arching one eyebrow, you regard him skeptically. “And what exactly did you sort out?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “From now on, the F1 broadcast has been instructed to address you properly as Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”

You blink at him in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that ...”

But Max just shakes his head. “Yes, I did. You’ve worked too hard and come too far to be disrespected like that.” His palm cups your cheek, calloused thumb stroking over your skin. “I’m so proud of you, schatje. And the world should know it too.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Max has never been one for grandiose romantic gestures, but the fierce protectiveness in his voice, the conviction that you deserve to be recognized for your accomplishments ...

Leaning in, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, trying to convey all the love and gratitude and awe you feel for this incredible, complicated, passionate man. His fingers tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, bodies pressing closer together.

When you finally break apart, faces flushed and breathing ragged, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you, Doctor,” he murmurs teasingly.

You laugh, swatting at his arm. “Why Mr. Verstappen, are you trying to seduce me with fancy titles?”

“Is it working?” His eyes dance with unmistakable mirth.

“Maybe ...” You draw out the word coyly. “Although I do seem to recall a wise person once telling me that actions speak louder than words.”

Max grins wickedly. “Well, in that case ...”

He swoops you up into his arms in one smooth motion, your surprised squeal quickly morphing into breathless giggles. Carrying you bridal-style down the hallway, he kicks open the bedroom door with a wink.

“Let me show you just how much I respect and admire my incredibly brilliant, accomplished, sexy-as-hell doctor girlfriend.”

The door slams shut behind you with a decisive thud.

***

The bright flashes of cameras periodically illuminate the night as Max strolls down the red carpet, your hand tucked securely in the crook of his elbow. He cuts an impossibly dashing figure in his sleek tuxedo, but it’s the look of unabashed pride on his face as he glances sidelong at you that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You smooth one hand over the deep emerald silk of your gown, trying to tamp down the nervous flutter in your stomach. This whole evening feels almost surreal — like something out of a fairy tale you couldn’t possibly belong in. Max Verstappen’s date at the illustrious FIA Prize Giving Gala ... who would have thought?

As if sensing your trepidation, Max leans in close, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmurs, voice dropping an octave in that way that never fails to send a shiver down your spine.

You bite back a giddy smile, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Four-Time World Champion.”

Max’s answering grin is all cocky charm. “Don’t I know it.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you continue posing for the photographers lining the carpet, Max’s steady presence at your side anchoring you. He squeezes your hip lightly, a silent reminder that he’s right there with you.

Suddenly, a voice calls out from the crowd. “Max! Max Verstappen, over here!”

A sharply-dressed reporter waves you both over, camera crew hovering behind him with bright lights. Max tugs you closer as you make your way through the throngs of people.

“Max, congratulations on another incredible championship season,” the reporter gushes, angling his microphone toward your boyfriend. He turns to face the camera with a wide smile. “Here with me tonight I have reigning four-time world champion Max Verstappen and his lovely date, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.”

You tense automatically at the mislabeling, a small cringe already forming on your face. But before you can open your mouth to correct the reporter politely, Max is speaking up, the hard line of his jaw set in familiar determination.

“Actually, I’d appreciate if you could refer to her properly as Dr. Y/N Y/L/N,” he interjects smoothly, not even giving the reporter a chance to respond. “My girlfriend worked incredibly hard to earn that title, and she deserves to be respected for her accomplishments.”

The tips of your ears burn hotly, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude flooding through you. You lay a calming hand on Max’s arm, opening your mouth to try and defuse the situation. But he barrels on relentlessly.

“It’s important to show that level of professional courtesy, you know?” His eyes blaze with conviction. “Especially for women who have overcome systemic barriers and discrimination to achieve such academic prestige. Using the proper titles isn’t about inflating egos, it’s about acknowledging the years of dedication and sacrifice required to reach that level of expertise.”

The reporter blinks rapidly, clearly caught off guard by Max’s passionate monologue. He rallies quickly though, nodding along with his points. “You’re absolutely right, of course. Thank you for that, Max, and my sincerest apologies Dr. Y/L/N. We should always aim to address people with the titles they’ve rightfully earned.”

“Exactly.” Max nods curtly, wrapping one possessive arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his side. “Now, I believe you had some questions for us?”

The reporter visibly shakes himself before continuing on with the standard red carpet patter about Max’s season, his hopes for the future, and so on. You can’t focus on the questions though, too distracted by the firm press of Max’s palm against your hip and the low thrum of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Max never fails to take your breath away with moments like this — these fierce outpourings of protectiveness and respect that lay bare how much he values you and everything you’ve accomplished. The man has no qualms about wielding his global platform and considerable influence to ensure you get the recognition you deserve.

Finally, the interview wraps up and the reporter thanks you both profusely, his cheeks still tinged faintly pink from Max’s earlier dressing down. Your boyfriend just nods tersely before steering you further along the carpet, his large hand spread possessively across the exposed skin of your lower back.

You make it maybe twenty feet before whirling on him, tangling your fingers in the lapels of his immaculately-tailored jacket to tug him down to your level. His eyes widen momentarily in surprise before you’re crashing your lips against his in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Max melts into you instantly, broad palms skimming over the curves of your waist and hips to pull you flush against his solid frame. You pour every ounce of adoration and devotion into the dizzying slide of your mouths, uncaring of the roar of the crowd and the bright flashes going off all around you.

When you finally break apart, his grey eyes are dark with undisguised want and his lips are curved in that trademark smirk that constantly sets your pulse racing.

“What was that for, Doctor?” He husks out, voice gratifyingly gravelly.

You shake your head slowly, still trying to catch your breath. “Just … reminding myself how lucky I am to have a man who loves and respects me so fiercely.”

A muscle ticks sharply in Max’s clenched jaw, the naked emotion simmering in his gaze rendering you breathless all over again. Then, a brilliant grin slowly breaks across his face, all boyish charm and devilish mischief.

“Well, in that case ...” He drops one last lingering kiss to your swollen lips. “Wait until you see what I have planned for later tonight.”

You can’t contain the giddy giggle that bubbles up from your chest as Max takes your hand once more, tugging you along the red carpet and into the venue with a wink. Whatever this man has in store, you have a feeling it’ll be a night neither of you will ever forget.

***

The sleek lines of Max’s private jet gleam under the harsh airport lights as you stroll across the tarmac, rolling suitcase in tow. A much-needed tropical vacation with you awaits at the other end of this flight — a chance to truly unwind away from the pressures and demands of the racing season.

Max can’t wait. Just a blissful week of sun, sand, and uninterrupted time with his favorite person in the whole world.

A blonde woman in a crisp uniform waits at the foot of the airstairs, offering Max a bright smile as you approach. “Good afternoon, Max!” She chirps in a saccharine tone. “I’m Kayla, and I’ll be your flight attendant today.”

You slow to a stop beside him, posture stiffening almost imperceptibly at the overly-familiar greeting. Max merely arches one brow, bristling at her use of his first name without any invitation to do so.

Before he can address it, Kayla seems to finally register your presence, gaze sliding over dismissively. She lets out a tinkling giggle. “Oh and you must be Max’s sister! It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Verstappen.”

There’s an audible record scratch in Max’s brain as he processes the absolute audacity of her assumption. His mouth drops open, ready to unleash the full force of his outrage at her egregious lack of professionalism and respect.

But you beat him to it, bristling visibly in the face of her blatant disregard.

“Excuse me?” Your voice is low and clipped, laced with icy disdain.

Your sharp tone finally seems to penetrate Kayla’s vapid haze. She blinks owlishly, looking between the two of you with dawning confusion. “I just thought, since you were traveling together ...”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Max finds his voice again, steel underpinning every syllable. “Y/N isn’t my sister, she’s my girlfriend. The woman I love. And you’ll address her with the proper respect she deserves.”

Kayla’s cheeks flush a mottled crimson, eyes widening in mortification as she finally seems to grasp the gravity of her blunder. “I … oh, I’m so ...”

“Doctor,” Max interjects coldly, cutting off her pathetic attempt at an apology before it can start. “Her name is Dr. Y/L/N. Show her the bare minimum of professional courtesy or ...”

The unspoken threat hangs in the air between them, loaded and menacing. You lay one hand on Max’s arm, both a calming gesture and a bit of moral support. But there’s a glint of gratitude and admiration in your eyes despite your sedate expression, letting him know you appreciate his fierceness in your defense.

Kayla gulps audibly, seemingly realizing she’s overstepped in about the worst way possible. “You’re absolutely right, sir,” she rushes out, backpedaling rapidly. “I should never have presumed or spoken so informally. My humblest apologies, Dr ...”

“That’s enough.” Max holds up one hand, nostrils flaring in barely contained disgust. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

His piercing stare drops meaningfully to the monogrammed name badge pinned to her blazer lapel. “Kayla, was it? Well, Kayla, I suggest you turn around and walk yourself off this plane before I have someone remove you physically.”

The blonde blinks in shock, mouth working silently. Scrambling to process his words, she finally casts one last beseeching look towards Max. “But … sir, I was sent here to ...”

“Did I stutter?” Max snaps, all hints of affability evaporating completely. He jerks his head sharply towards the hangar. “Get off my plane, now. I’d rather fly with one less flight attendant than subject myself or my girlfriend to any more of your pathetically disrespectful behavior.”

That seems to finally sink in, Kayla’s porcelain complexion draining of what little color remains. She dips her head in a jerky nod before turning away, hurrying back towards the hangar without another word.

Max watches her retreating form for a few moments, muscles still taut with simmering irritation. Only when she disappears into the distance does he draw a deep breath and turn back towards you.

The pride and adoration written across your beautiful features instantly soothes some of the lingering embers of his temper. You pull him down for a searing kiss, not caring about any potential onlookers on the tarmac around you.

When you finally break apart, Max rests his forehead against yours, reveling in your closeness. “Sorry about … that,” he murmurs gruffly. “I just can’t stand people showing you so little respect.”

You shake your head, not even trying to conceal your grin. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad I didn’t have to call her out myself.” Your expression softens as you stroke one palm over the tense line of his jaw. “Thank you for always having my back, for defending me like that. It means everything.”

The utter conviction and sincerity in your voice washes over him in soothing waves. Max feels the last knots of tension bleed from his muscles as he pulls you flush against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo.

“Always,” he vows simply. There are no words grand enough to encapsulate the depth of his devotion, his intense desire to protect and cherish and uplift you in the face of anyone’s disrespect or scorn. You are his everything, the prime motivator driving him to be a better man each and every day.

So instead, Max simply loops one arm around your waist, tugging you towards the jet’s waiting airstairs without another look back. This vacation, an entire blissful week alone together away from the pressures and prying eyes of the world, is exactly what you both need.

As he settles into the plush leather seating, Max makes a silent vow to ensure you never feel anything less than worshiped during your time here.

No hateful outside influences, no ignorant people speaking over or degrading your incredible accomplishments. Just him and you, exactly as you’re meant to be — deliriously, perfectly happy together.

***

The low hum of conversation and clinking silverware fills the upscale restaurant as Max tries his best to bite his tongue. Across the table, Jos nurses a glass of scotch, regarding you with poorly veiled disdain.

Max had hoped tonight might be a step towards mending the long-fractured relationship with his father. He should have known better.

You don’t seem to notice the tension though, chatting amiably about your work at the hospital and asking Jos questions about his life and experiences in racing. Your polite interest only seems to antagonize the older man further.

When you finally excuse yourself to visit the restroom, Jos turns that signature Verstappen glare on his son. “She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?” He sneers. “Got to hand it to you, Little Miss Golddigger over here has expensive taste.”

White-hot rage lances through Max’s chest so violently he sees stars. He knew his father was an asshole, but openly insulting you like that is a new low, even for Jos. His fists clench convulsively atop the crisp linen tablecloth.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” Max bites out, every muscle in his body pulled taut. “You don’t know the first thing about Y/N.”

Jos just scoffs derisively. “I know enough. Doctors make good money, but her own bank account clearly isn’t enough. She’s clearly after the next big fish.” His gaze drops meaningfully to Max’s watch — an ultra-rare Patek Philippe. “She’s a user, son. You could do so much better.”

“Are you serious right now?” Max can scarcely believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N is the most kind, caring, and accomplished woman I’ve ever met. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve her!”

His father lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh yeah, I can really see how much she cares with the way she keeps trotting you out like a trophy to boost her own reputation.”

That does it. Max slams his palms down on the table, entire frame vibrating with suppressed fury. “Enough! I won’t just sit here and listen to you degrade the woman I love with your bullshit cynicism.”

Jos opens his mouth — likely to unleash another torrent of vitriol — but Max cuts him off with a curt slash of his hand.

“No, you don’t get to say another damn word about her.” His voice is low and menacing, achingly familiar echoes of a younger, angrier version of himself. “Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She makes me want to be a better man. And you’ll show her the respect she deserves or so help me god ...”

The unspoken threat hangs heavy in the air between them. Max doesn’t even know how he planned to finish that sentence. Part of him wants to throw the whole table aside and … and what? Deck his own father right here in the middle of this fancy restaurant? The fact that he can’t dismiss the thought outright is deeply unsettling.

The harsh smack of footsteps against tile breaks the tension as you reappear, looking concerned at the obvious storm cloud over their table. “Is everything alright?”

Max blows out a harsh breath, raking one hand raggedly through his hair as he glances between you and Jos. Stifling waves of rage still roll through him, transmuting into an almost desperate need to get you away from his toxic father.

Without a word, he pushes back from the table and rises to his feet. Taking your hand in his, Max tugs you toward the exit, movements jerky and abrupt.

You follow without protest, though your brow furrows in bewilderment. “Max? What’s going on, where are we ...”

He cuts you off as you spill out onto the street, the cool night air doing little to douse the fire burning in his chest. Unable to properly explain with coherent words, not when the image of his own flesh and blood spitting such venom is searing into his brain, Max simply shakes his head.

The only thing he knows is that he can’t subject you to any more of Jos’ cruelty, not tonight. Tomorrow he’ll try to find the words, to unpack whatever new trauma has been dredged up by his father’s verbal assault. But for now, he just needs to put as much distance between you and that devil as humanly possible.

Jos appears in the doorway behind you, and suddenly Max is whirling back to face him. He jabs one finger at the older man, a muscle ticking dangerously in his clenched jaw.

“And just so we’re crystal clear ...” His tone is biting, dripping with disdain and finality. “Her name is Dr. Y/L/N. You’ll address her properly or you won’t address her at all.”

With that parting shot, Max turns sharply on his heel, wrapping one arm around your slender waist as he all but drags you down the sidewalk. You stumble briefly to keep up before settling into pace beside him, head swiveling back and forth between his thunderous expression and the figure of his father staring after you both.

By the time the restaurant has faded from view, enveloped in the shadowy darkness, Max can finally feel the vise around his chest loosening somewhat. The chilly night air fills his lungs in great gulping breaths, methodically smothering the raging inferno of his temper.

Eventually, you slow to a stop beneath a streetlamp, cupping his cheek in one soft palm and angling his face down to meet your gaze. There’s so much tender concern and patience swimming in your deep eyes that it makes his heart stutter traitorously. After so many years of his father’s toxic influence, Max sometimes wonders if he’ll ever stop being bowled over by such simple compassion and care.

“Talk to me,” you murmur, thumb stroking soothingly over his flushed skin. “What did he say? What happened back there?”

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment before the words finally tumble out in a hoarse rush. “He … that bastard, he called you … he said ...”

You wait, saying nothing, just letting him gather his thoughts in the wake of such overwhelming emotion. How did he ever get so lucky as to have someone like you in his life?

Finally, the full truth comes spilling from his lips, every caustic barb and callous insult faithfully repeated until the weight of it all threatens to crush him. By the time he’s finished, Max feels hollowed out, wrung dry of the seething anger.

Studying your face carefully for any hint of hurt, any indication his father’s cruelty has sunk its hooks into you as it has him so many times before, Max finds only calm resolve. You shake your head sadly, fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape.

“Oh Max … I’m so sorry he treated you that way.” You blink up at him, the picture of steadfast compassion. “But you know I don’t care what he thinks, right? His opinion means nothing to me.”

Max exhales a shuddering sigh, watching the vapor cloud in the chilly air between you. “I know, but that doesn’t excuse it. You deserve so much better than to be subjected to that kind of disrespect.”

A small, fond smile plays at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe. But that’s not your burden to bear, my love.” You rise up on your tiptoes to press the softest whisper of a kiss to his lips. “All I need is you.”

And just like that, the lingering clouds of anger dissipate, clarity washing over Max like a cresting wave. You are his safe harbor, his beacon guiding him home through any storm life throws his way. With your unwavering support, maybe … just maybe he can begin to unhook himself from the toxicity that has weighed on him for far too long.

One thing is certain — Jos Verstappen has been granted more than his fair share of chances in this life. If he can’t appreciate the incredible woman standing before Max, if he can’t treat you with the respect and admiration you’ve earned a million times over ...

Then he doesn’t deserve a place in your lives. Not anymore.

So for now, Max simply pulls you close, tucking you against his chest as he places a tender kiss to the crown of your head. He’ll figure out the rest later. For tonight, having you here with him is enough.

***

The pulsing bassline thrums through Max’s veins like a secondary heartbeat as his sleek sports car glides to a stop outside the trendy Monaco hotspot. He takes a moment to simply watch you in the flickering neon lights spilling through the tinted windows — the sexy drape of your curve-hugging dress, the mussed tumble of your hair thanks to his wandering hands, the bashful smile tugging at your lips.

You’re gorgeous.

And all his.

“You about ready to actually join our friends?” He teases, voice deliciously raspy. “Or should I just take you straight back home?”

You swat at his arm playfully, cheeks flushing prettily. “Down boy. We’re already late as it is since someone couldn’t keep their hands off me earlier.”

The heated look you shoot him from beneath lidded lashes sends a fresh wave of want crashing through Max’s bloodstream. How you still make him feel like a horny, lovestruck teenager with just a simple glance ...

“Worth it.” He drops a lingering kiss to the slender column of your neck, nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin. You shiver against him, his name escaping on a breathy sigh. For a heady moment, Max legitimately considers calling the whole outing off as a lost cause.

But the muffled thump of far-too-energetic techno filtering in from the crowded club breaks the spell. With a resigned sigh, Max extracts himself from your intoxicating orbit, climbing out of the car to offer you his hand.

“Shall we get this over with then?”

Laughing lightly, you accept his proffered assistance, sliding out onto the sidewalk in a swirl of sumptuous fabric. Max can’t resist hauling you in for one last, scorchingly thorough kiss, propriety be damned.

The club’s VIP section is already hopping when you arrive, music pulsing through the dimly lit space. Charles spots you first, waving with his trademark sunny grin.

“About time! We were starting to think you got lost,” he calls out teasingly.

Lando chimes in with a smirk. “More like they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N are late again — what a surprise.”

Max’s jovial expression shutters instantly at the inaccurate title. “It’s Dr. Y/L/N,” he corrects, a hard edge in his voice. “Show some respect.”

You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, squeezing gently in a silent gesture of reassurance. “We’re also not actually married yet,” you remind Lando with an easy smile, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

The banter continues to flow as you join the group’s semi-circle of plush couches, ordering a round of drinks. Lando waves a dismissive hand, undeterred. “Eh, close enough. It’s only a few months until the wedding, you’re already basically married.”

He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at Max. “Speaking of which, I love that you corrected me on her title right away, but you didn’t say anything about me implying you’d be the one taking her last name.”

Max’s jaw tightens infinitesimally. “That’s because while I have no intention of changing my name,” he states flatly, “I certainly don’t expect Y/N to give hers up either. It’s not a Verstappen who went to medical school.”

The words are steely, leaving no room for negotiation. You feel a surge of affection and pride well up within you. It still makes your heart swell to hear Max be so definitively uncompromising on the importance of your career and identity.

Unable to help yourself, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a lingering, reverent kiss to his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. Max instantly forgets your friends, the bumping music, the very room they’re standing in as he focuses solely on you — his everything, his heart made flesh.

When you finally break apart, breathless and grinning, raucous cheers and teasing whistles surround you both.

“Oh my god, get a room you two!” Charles yells over the din, brandishing his cocktail like a weapon.

“Yes,” Lando chimes in, “why don’t you lovebirds go shag in the coat check already?”

The lighthearted taunting washes over Max and you, unable to dampen the warmth and contentment radiating between you both. He presses one more soft, unhurried kiss to your smiling mouth, savoring the moment just a beat longer.

With you by his side, loved and respected and cherished exactly as you deserve, Max knows he will always have everything he could ever want or need.

And in a few short months, you’ll walk down the aisle towards him to begin your forever together. How could life possibly get any better?

***

Max takes a steadying breath as the two of you pause outside the grand double doors. The distant sounds of chatter and clinking glasses filter through the heavy wooden panels, signaling that your guests are assembled and awaiting your entrance into the ballroom.

Turning towards you, Max’s expression softens into one of pure adoration. His eyes roam hungrily over the stunning vision before him — the elegant white gown that billows becomingly around your curves, the fresh flowers woven into your perfectly coiffed hair, the soft makeup that makes you radiate ethereal beauty.

“You look … angelically gorgeous doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmurs reverentially. “I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

You let out a delighted giggle, ducking your head slightly with a bemused smile. “You’re hardly so bad yourself, Mr. Verstappen.”

His grin stretches so wide it threatens to split his face in two as he leans down to capture your lips in a lingering, blissful kiss.

All too soon, the sound of a throat clearing behind you breaks you apart. The Master of Ceremonies offers you both an indulgent smile.

“Shall we get this show on the road, then? Everyone is waiting for the guests of honor.”

Max nods eagerly, slipping his arm through yours as the ornate double doors are pulled open. The MC’s voice rings out, amplified to fill the cavernous ballroom.

“It is my honor to introduce, for the first time … the new Mr. Verstappen and Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen!”

The room erupts with raucous cheers and applause as you take your first steps forward. But Max abruptly grinds to a halt only a few paces in, his brow furrowing in consternation as he turns back to the MC in confusion.

“Actually, her title is just Dr. Y/L/N,” he begins to correct automatically. “She didn’t cha-”

“Max.” Your gentle reproval cuts him off as you place a hand on his forearm. When he meets your gaze, you’re surprised to see the corners of your eyes crinkling with unmistakable mirth. “My name is Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen now.”

The dumbfounded look on Max’s face would be comical if you didn’t find it so utterly endearing. “But you said you didn’t want to change your name. Your career and identity ...”

You shake your head fondly. “I didn’t want to give up my maiden name, no. But I’m proud to add yours to it — to take on the name of the man I love more than anything in this world.” Your voice grows thick with emotion. “We’re a partnership, Max. Forever and always.”

The words seem to resonate deep within him. In an instant, Max’s eyes are blazing with a fierce adoration so potent it steals your breath away. Without warning, his arms sweep around your waist as he dips you backwards dramatically, heedless of your squeals and the audience watching raptly.

His lips crash over yours in a searing, all-consuming kiss that seems to pour every ounce of his devotion into the contact. You melt helplessly against him as raucous catcalls and whistles erupt from the crowd.

When you finally break apart, flushed and grinning giddily, Max offers you a lopsided grin. “For the record, I fully intend to spend our entire honeymoon admiring Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen in all her glory.”

The way your eyes dance with love and happiness is brighter than any ballroom chandelier. “I’m counting on it, Mr. Verstappen.”

Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen. It has a wonderful ring to it, Max muses contentedly. His eternal teammate in life and love.

Nothing could possibly make this day more perfect.

[lovebugism]

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same. 

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that. 

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine. 

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves. 

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really. 

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand. 

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.” 

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate. 

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed. 

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it. 

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest. 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him. 

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish.  “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything. 

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

[enmie]

*♡∞:｡.｡ Just a Nap ｡.｡:∞♡*

➶ bllk's Sae, Kaiser, Rin, and Shidou and their goofy selves try to make you prove your love

➶ they fake sleep and you carry them back to bed

➶ poll results. cw: cussing. insults. implied fem reader

𓅪 first bllk fic lesgoo

𓅪 this took three polls. THREE.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sae Itoshi's

Each tick of the clock, each breath from your lips, each blink of your eye— you watched Sae's sleeping presence. He looked so peaceful you didn't dare disturb him, no matter how much of a trouble maker you were to him. There was something so off and comforting about his shallow breaths, in comparison to his usual stoic attitude, the one that pushes you away. But you stay anyway.

And he thinks he's such a little trickster.

Sae's eyelids flutter to to take a peek at what you were doing, his breathing shallow and soft to make the act convincing. Of course he's fake sleeping. He would never fall asleep in front of you.

He flinches. No, he doesn't jump, but he internally flinches when you attempt to stand him up from the couch, his one arm flung over your shoulder. It was one hell of a movie night, but every movie you watched was plain trash.

He could've spent the night practicing, yeah, but who was he to turn you down? All that's in his head now is fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to wake up—

— but everything's too good. He needs to know what happens next.

You struggled to lift him up. What was he, double your weight? You were tiny compared to this man, what the hell were you thinking trying to get him up? With a groan, you stand up, your weak knees trembling as you lift one side of his body, the other side hanging. But you notice he was on his feet. Maybe it was a reflex.

"Alrighty, let's get ya to bed," You say more to yourself than to him, each step excrutiatingly slow. Slow and shaky, your breath more ragged than his. Why were you even putting in this much effort?Effort wasted. Because you throw him onto the bed, hands on your knees as you panted. You thought he was a light sleeper, initially.

Vulnerability wasn't something he usually showed, yet here he was now, spread eagle on his twin-sized bed, hair in his face and his arm red from your tight hold. You did have a harder time.

And that's why you hated, hated him for opening his left eye, and he had his lips in a smug little smirk, that shitty bastard. You grumbled, throwing a pillow at him.

"What's wrong? You're surprisingly strong, y'know," He remarks, sitting up to fix his hair. Sae ran his fingers through the magenta strands, his eyes looking tired but accomplished.

"Lose some weight so I can carry you next time." You muttered angrily, sulky as you sat on the edge of his bed. "There's a next time?" He slips himself down the bed to sit next to you, gauging your reaction. And that goddamn smirk is still on his face, to the point where it seems his eyes are smirking, his ears are smirking, his cheeks, too. So annoying.

"Hopefully..."

"Not,"

"Yes,"

"No,"

"..."

"Fine." He eventually sighs. "I'll come over again, pendejo."

Michael Kaiser's

It was the first time you ever saw him asleep. Of course you wouldn't know this grown ass man still takes naps in the afternoon. The sun was up and blazing, glazing its color on Kaiser's undershirt, his muscles bare and exposed. You've never seen him like this, vulnerable, not teasing you, not absolutely annoying you. It was comforting in a way.

But Kaiser thinks he's such a clever man. He stifles a laugh, sensing how you're admiring his sleeping form, his fake sleeping form. He's supposed to be practicing with some people today, but he chooses to mess with you over anything else. It's just how he shows his love.

So it surprises him, really, when you start to stand up and grab his waist and back, supporting his body as much as you could. Were you really going to take him to his room? He lets out an audible groan, but keeps his eyes closed for convincing effect.

With every step you take, he drags his feet across the wooden floor, your grunts loud and strained. Why does he have to be so heavy?

You immediately let go of Kaiser once he was in his room, collapsing the supposedly sleeping body on the mattress.

Then this jerk starts laughing. Boisterously. Disturbingly. Honestly, you feel so shocked that you could only blink slowly and process everything that's happening, the man you thought was sleeping was laughing so hard it pisses you off.

"Jerk!" You exclaim. "Oh, you're such a comedian! You really do love me!" He says, sitting up to see that reaction he found so cute. "I was helping you, fucking bastard,"

"That's me," He says confidently, flexing his bicep. And it annoys you.

"Now, if you excuse me, I got to practice," He stands up, getting dizzy at the sudden adjustment. But before he even leaves, he wobbles to the drawer unexpectedly, pulling out a face towel with cute rubber ducks on it. "Here, saviour. For your sweat."

"I really can't tell if you're trying to be nice or pissing me off," You groan, wiping your forehead and your sweaty neck.

He looks at you with some sort of... admiration, in his eyes. And he laughs again, softer and more genuine this time. "I think you should come watch me practice." You roll your eyes. "After I tore all my muscles carrying you? You wish, asshole,"

Kaiser's never felt this way. Why was he finding your anger so cute? He puts on his jersey for practice, his long hair getting snugly stuck underneath the neckline. So you go and untuck it, getting dangerously close to this man.

Yeah. He thinks he's in love.

"You're so damn small, it must have been a miracle when you carried me here," He whispers. Kaiser doesn't whisper. He yells. A lot.

"Miracle, me?"

"... Yeah, you."

Rin Itoshi's

One turn of a head, and he's fast asleep? That was so unlikely of him, you think. Because, you're talking about Rin Itoshi here, asleep, beside you, so close you could feel the faint pitter patter of his heart and the even fainter breath. So deep into that slumber you felt bad even thinking of waking the striker up.And he doesn't usually mess with people.

But he wants to see that reaction that he finds ever-so-slightly, cute. When you scrunch up your nose in frustion, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids low. He loves it. It's one of the only things he finds himself looking for in every living moment he spends. But he doesn't quite know why, why he adores your long hair and every curve of your body he longs to touch.

He's cute, too. But Rin doesn't know that. Only you do. Or, at least, you're convinced you're his biggest fan, his best-est friend, or even something along the lines of.

That's why— he's currently trying to peek at you, while also trying to keep pretending he's asleep. Oh! He shuts his eyes tightly, once you turn to look at him. No, no, if he gets caught without saying it himself, it'll be embarrassing. So maybe... maybe he should just come clean already, and—

Panic, panic, panic.

You can hear his breath hitch softly and his eyelashes flutter faintly. Maybe he just does that. You take him by the arm, throwing it around your neck and over your shoulder to take him to his room, to let the pretty boy fall asleep. And oh, how you struggled.

But Rin thinks he's struggling more, trying desperately to stop himself from getting too flustered at the proximity he didn't expect. He makes himself lighter so you didn't have a harder time. He'd usually weigh himself down purposefully, or not fake sleep at all, but he found himself acting different around you.

Not too different. Only... less indifferent. You were more tolerable than the rest.

So once he plops down onto the bed, free from your helping grip, he feels this longing. This yearning. Your touch was too much for him, and now he wants more and more and more. You begin walking away, deciding to let him sleep, but—

"Sorry." Your head snaps in his direction. You'd almost gotten whiplash.

"Huh?! What happened to your sleeping ass?" Still half-lidded, Rin fiddles with the hem of his sweater, avoiding all form of eye contact with you. He just tricked you. And he was guilty. So unlike him. "I wasn't asleep."

You cross your arms with a smirk on your face, oh you knew well. That look on his cute face says it all, that he enjoyed how you were nice enough to accompany his heavy weight up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"You act better than I thought," You tell him. He just hums in agreement, coming back to his original attitude.

"Little trickster."

And when he looks up at you— oh, you think you're about to fold.

"I know."

Ryusei Shidou's

He's snoring loudly, smiliarly to an old man. Damn this boy. Was he serious or was he serious? You think it's very Ryusei Shidou of Ryusei to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, because not even ten minutes into the topic of leopards, he's passed out, his head facing the side. No wonder the idiot's snoring.

But it's all an act.

Ryusei is wide awake. He may have underestimated how hard closing his eyes for more than a milisecond was, but he is more than determined to see if you'd kiss him with a true love's kiss. Like a fucking Disney princess.

You groaned, standing up with your hands on your hips. You theorize that he's fake sleeping, since there's a goddamned smirk on his face, but you believe it anyway. "Holy shit, you fell asleep, you asshole." With a sigh, you decide to snap a photo of him before deciding to be a nicer bitch for once.

He accidentally opens his eyes and groans when you start lifting him up, but closes them tightly as to keep the act up. Where were you taking him? Upstairs? Ryusei hears your grunts as you desperately try to grab him. He falls back on you anyway, his back pressing against your chest and tensing up. Not like you felt it.

"Alrighty, here we go," This man is eighty percent muscle mass, and you were attempting to carry him?

Get this, he was so comfortable despite your struggle, that he actually falls asleep. For what seems like a mere split second, his breath shallows and his snores get quieter, and his muscles relax on you. You're confused.

The floorboards creak with every step you took, dragging the blonde by his waist weakly. Maybe if he didn't go to the gym so much. With a grunt, you throw him on the bed feeling strained as hell. "Fuck you, honestly."

Walking to the edge of the bed, you pull out your phone to see the picture, and there's this laughter. His laughter. You sigh as you shake your head, knowing your first thought was right after all. He wasn't really sleeping.

"What? Had a hard time?" Ryusei teases, the volume of his laughter baffling you. "Shut up."

"No, no, I'll sleep, I'll sleep," He makes a snoring sound again, but not before laughing his ass off. You're extremely annoyed. You regret being nice. But, you have to admit it, his laugh did bring a smile to your face, in some weird way.

He sits up to peek at your phone not-so-sneakily, chorting. "Ya even took my pic!"

You squeak, and find Ryusei immediately at your side, looking at his fakely asleep self on your phone. His hand is on your waist instinctively, as he stares with that smile, that grin you used to hate. But you love it now.

"You're so obsessed with me," He says. "You gonna make it a wallpaper like a lovesick simp?"

Turning your head and smirking, he blushes. Yeah, he might just be into every other girl, but you're the only one who made him blush that much.

"Maybe so,"

"... Fuck you."

ⒺⓃⓂⒾⒺᛌⓈ bllk fanfic

[d1stalker]

Undercover Flames II [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You may have been rescued, but the enemy is still out there, and it’s going to take way more than just a direct assault to get them to talk. Your plan, however, does nothing to calm Logan’s nerves.

PART TWO OF TWO (part one here)

Warnings: canon-level violence, brief argument

WC: 7.2K - MASTERLIST

----

You wake up to the warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours, the rise and fall of his chest soothing in its steady rhythm. The light is soft, filtering through the curtains and for a moment, you allow yourself to stay still, savouring the peace of this rare, tranquil morning. Logan’s arm is draped protectively over your waist, his hand resting against your stomach, fingers splayed out as if to keep you anchored to him.

As you turn in his embrace, Logan stirs, his hold on you tightening instinctively before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him slowly blink his eyes open. His gaze is soft, warm in a way that’s reserved only for these quiet moments between you.

It has been just over four months since you were rescued from the clutches of the anti-mutant organization, and in that time, you’ve made remarkable strides in your recovery. The nightmares that once haunted you relentlessly have become few and far between, no longer a nagging constant at the back of your mind. Your body, once battered and bruised, has healed with time and care. After three weeks of rest, you cautiously returned to training—starting slow, attentive to not reopen old wounds or strain muscles that were still mending. You’ve not only regained your strength but it almost appears like you’ve surpassed it, driven by a fierce determination to never feel that powerless again.

Last month marked a significant milestone: your first assignment back. The instructions were straightforward—an investigation into a drug dealer whose clients had been mysteriously dying within days of their transactions. It wasn’t the most complex of tasks, but it was a crucial step in regaining your confidence in the field. Logan, of course, wasn’t thrilled about you heading out so soon. You could see the worry in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched when the assignment was discussed. However, true to his word, he stepped back, allowing you the space to do what you needed to do. He trusted you to handle it, even if every protective instinct in him was screaming to stay close.

But his companionship was never lost on you. His actions speak volumes—over the years of knowing each other, he’s learned to read you in ways that no one else can, picking up on the smallest details that others might overlook. And now that you’re lovers, he finally allows himself to show you just how much he’s always noticed, how deeply he’s cared all along.

He’s always a step ahead of you, anticipating your needs before you even realize them yourself. Whether it’s tossing you a water bottle after a grueling training session, offering you his jacket when he notices the temperature drop, or silently placing a hand on your back to steady you when you’re about to lose your balance—Logan is there, solid and dependable.

His support is in the small, almost indiscernible touches. You’ve noticed that he’ll lightly brush his fingers against your hand when he senses you’re anxious, he’ll place a hand on your shoulder when you’re deep in thought, the warmth of his touch a silent reminder that you’re not alone. And when you’re seated beside each other, his thigh will always be connected with yours. 

Seeing this side of Logan, the side that he rarely shows to anyone, has deepened your love for him to a level you never thought possible. You’ve always cared for him—admired his strength, his loyalty, and his unyielding determination—but now, as he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, to let down the walls he’s built up over so many years, you find yourself falling for him all over again, deeper and deeper. 

You’ve never felt so seen, so understood, it’s as if Logan has tuned into every part of who you are, cherishing even the smallest details. Knowing that he trusts you enough to show this side of himself, to let you in past his barriers fills you with a gratitude that words can hardly express. You feel honoured, and so incredibly lucky to be the one who gets to see the real him—the one who’s gentle, thoughtful, and so much more than the tough exterior he shows the world.

Logan’s hand slides up your side, breaking you from your haze, his thumb brushing over your ribs with tenderness 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Amazing,” you say, and it’s the truth. Everything Logan has done for you, both before and after the incident, has helped you become stronger—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. “Thanks to you.”

He grunts, a sound that would seem dismissive to anyone else, but you’ve learned to hear the subtleties in it—the satisfaction, the pride that he tries to keep hidden. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing the side of your forehead in a gesture that’s more comforting than words could ever be. “Just doing my job,” he huffs.

“Sure,” you tease, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw, feeling the familiar roughness of his stubble beneath your touch. “But not everyone’s job description includes being my personal heater.”

Logan chuckles, his tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you say, your smile widening as you lean in, your lips pressing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. 

When you pull back, Logan’s eyes are filled with that familiar mix of longing and reluctance, the same look he’s given you every morning since the rescue. It’s a look that makes your chest ache because you know what it means. He wants to protect you, to keep you safe from the world outside this room, but he knows he can’t always do that. Even though he’s managed to back off and let you do your own thing, you know deep down that he would rather stick by your side every second of the day. He’s holding onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, like the world outside is too dangerous to face without you by his side.

You’re about to say something to ease the tension you can see building in his expression when the X-Men communicator on the nightstand beeps, breaking the peaceful silence.

Logan’s expression darkens instantly, the moment of calm shattered as reality crashes back in. He reaches over, grabbing the device with a resigned sigh. The message on the screen is brief, something you’ve seen hundreds of times, but still manages to make all the muscles in your body seize—a meeting in the war room in an hour.

“Duty calls,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he replies, his tone gruff as he sets the communicator down with more force than necessary. “Always does.”

There’s a heavy pause between you, both of you acutely aware of what’s coming, what you’ll have to face. You know its time to focus back on you and Logan’s original mission—the anti-mutant group. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spine, but before you can dwell on it too long, Logan turns to you, his hand reaching out to gingerly cup your face, his thumb running over your cheek.

“I just wish… we could hang up the suits, ya know?” he says, “Be selfish for once. Just you and me, somewhere far away from all this crap.”

His words break through the tough shell he usually hides behind. You catch the look in his eyes—the yearning for a life without the constant fights, without the endless dangers. It’s a life you’ve both fantasized about in fleeting moments, but one that always seems just out of reach.

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing one of your hands to rest atop of his—the one on your cheek. “That’s not who you are. You joined the our team because you wanted to help people, to make a difference. That’s who you are—a protector. You’d never be happy just sitting on the sidelines, not when you know there’s still work to be done.”

He released a long breath, his gaze moving to where your hands are connected. “Yeah, I know, darlin’. But sometimes… I just wish we could be together without threats hanging over our heads. Without havin’ to fight every damn day.”

It breaks your heart to know that the life he wants—the peace he craves—is something you can’t give him, not yet.

You move closer, placing a soothing kiss on the tip of his nose, a gesture that’s meant to comfort both of you. “I wish that too,” you admit. “More than anything.”

He looks at you for a long moment, searching your eyes for something—reassurance, hope, maybe just the strength to keep going. Finally, he nods, the tension in his jaw easing slightly as he leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours.

“I know I’ve said this before but… I just can’t go through that again,” he says, voice husky and intimate, referring to the time when you were taken and tortured. The memory of those days still haunts him, a shadow that lingers even in the light of your recovery.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore ,” you promise, “We’ll win this time.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t push back. Instead, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he can shield you from all the dangers that lie ahead. And for this moment, you let him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him as you cling to the warmth and safety of his embrace.

–

The war room feels like it's vibrating with the unspoken tautness that hangs in the air, the usual hum of quiet conversations replaced by an almost suffocating silence. The X-Men gather around the large, circular table, all eyes drawn to the holographic map that flickers to life at the center, casting a bluish glow over the faces of the team. 

Scott stands at the head of the table. His visor hides the full intensity of his gaze, but the way his jaw is set, and the tension in his posture reveals enough. There’s no need for words to convey the stakes—everyone knows that what they do next could be the turning point in their ongoing battle against the anti-mutant organization that has been a thorn in their side for far too long.

“We’ve finally got an update on the organization’s movements,” he announces, “It’s taken longer than we’d hoped, and we’ve lost precious time because they’ve gone to ground. Their losses during our rescue mission were significant, but that only means they’re going to be even more cautious from here on out.”

As he speaks, the holographic map shifts, transforming into a detailed 3D model of a remote, mountainous region far from any major city. The terrain is rugged, the kind of place where someone could easily disappear if they didn’t want to be found. The map zooms in, highlighting the location where the organization has apparently relocated—another isolated, heavily fortified compound, this time nestled within the mountains. 

Jean, standing just to the right of Scott, steps forward to add her insights. 

“They’ve moved their operations here,” she says, “From what we’ve gathered, this new location is far more secure. They’ve enhanced their security protocols significantly. They’re not going to let another attack happen easily, especially after the damage we inflicted last time.”

The hologram continues to shift, revealing more details about the new facility: the reinforced walls, the watchtowers equipped with advanced surveillance, the array of weaponry designed to repel even the most determined assault. It’s clear that the organization has learned from their mistakes—they’ve gone underground, and they’ve fortified their defenses to the point where any attempt to breach them would require more than just brute force. 

The room remains silent. Your team has faced insurmountable odds before, but this is different. This is a challenge that requires more than just strength; it demands strategy, cunning, and the kind of precision that doesn’t leave room for error.

Scott lets the silence linger for a moment, before continuing. “We’re dealing with a highly secure facility,” his voice cuts through the quiet. “And they know we’re coming. We need to be smart about our next move. No plan isn’t an option; it’s suicide.”

Flickering of the 3D model casts an eerie glow in the room as his words hang in the air. Jean, who has been studying the map intently, speaks up again. “We need to take down the leaders without giving them a chance to regroup or escape. If we can isolate them from their security forces and cut off their communication, we’ll have them cornered.”

Hank nods in agreement. “Their reliance on advanced technology is both their strength and their weakness.”

“We could use the terrain to our advantage, I could create natural disaster—an avalanche, perhaps—that forces them to redirect their resources,” Ororo suggests from her place, “While they’re dealing with that, a small, covert team could infiltrate the compound and take whoever’s directing by surprise.”

Scott considers this, his mind running through the logistics. “It’s risky, but it could work. We’ll need to divide our forces. Here’s the plan: Ororo, just like last time, you’ll create the distraction—a controlled avalanche to draw their attention and forces away from the main compound. Hank, you’ll work on disabling their communications and security systems. ”

He pauses. “And knowing you, you’ll be able to breach their data system and gather all their information, right?” 

Hank smirks, “you didn’t even need to ask.”

Scott turns his gaze to you next, “You, Jean, and Logan will then enter with the primary objective of finding the leaders.”

As he speaks, a thought strikes you—something that could turn the tide even more decisively in your favor. You step forward. 

“Instead of all three of us focusing on infiltration, I think we should split our efforts. Jean and Logan can act as a distraction on the interior—draw attention away from the main targets—while I go in as a spy. I can locate the leaders, snuff them out, and corner them before they even realize what’s happening.”

Scott tilts his head slightly, considering your suggestion. The rest of the team turns to you, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. But it’s Logan’s gaze that whips toward you with immediate sharpness, his protective instincts on high alert.

“You’re suggesting we divide our forces even more?” Scott asks cautiously, like he needs you to confirm what you had just said. “Jean and Logan as a diversion, while you go in alone?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with confidence. “Exactly. With Jean’s telepathy and Logan’s… well, Logan’s everything, they can create enough chaos on the interior to keep the guards and security forces occupied,” you state, “Meanwhile, I’ll move undetected through the compound. I can locate the leaders’ exact position and contain them before they have a chance to escape or call for help.”

“It makes sense,” Hank pipes up, “If Logan and Jean draw the attention of the security forces, you can slip through the cracks while they’re preoccupied, get to the leaders, and cut the head off the snake.”

Before anyone else can chime in, Logan steps forward, his features furrowed. “No,” he says flatly, his voice like a growl. “I don’t like the idea of you going in alone—it’s too risky. We can’t have a repeat of what happened last time.”

You meet his eyes, understanding his concern, but you remain resolute. “I know it’s risky, but it’s the best way to ensure we get the leaders without triggering a full-scale assault.”

“Best way? Or the most dangerous way?” he shoots back, and you can feel his frustration growing. “You’re talking about going in there alone, with no backup. If something goes wrong, we might not get to you in time.”

“That’s why we have the distraction,” you counter, “You and Jean will keep the guards occupied, and I’ll move quickly. It’s our best shot.”

He bites down hard, the muscles in his neck straining as he struggles to keep his temper under control. “Damn it, this isn’t about taking shots, it’s about keeping you safe!” His voice rises slightly, “You don’t need to do this alone. We can find another way.”

“I’m not doing it alone,” you reassure, “I’ll have the team behind me, just like always. You know as well as I do that if we all go in together, it’ll be a bloodbath. This is the only way to avoid that.”

“And what happens if you get caught? What happens if they see through the distraction? You think I can just stand back and watch while you put yourself in the line of fire? If you get taken again…” he can barely finish his sentence as all of his fears seem to flash before his eyes. 

“Logan, you’re not hearing me,” you insist, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t about me wanting to take unnecessary risks. It’s about making sure the mission succeeds. If we don’t do this right, it’s not just me—it’s all of us, all mutants, at risk.”

The room is silent, the rest of the team watching the exchange with bated breath, knowing it’s not their place to step in. They look on with concern, eyes flicking between you and Logan.

Logan shakes his head. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. I just… I need you to be safe.”

“I know, Logan,” you respond. “But this isn’t just about you or me. It’s about stopping these people once and for all. I need to do this. We need to do this.”

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, as if searching for the words he wants to say. When he looks back up at you, you can see the conflict in his eyes, begging you to take it back. 

“Just promise me… promise me you’ll be careful. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. You find them, and you tell us. Immediately.”

“I promise,” you say, your voice sincere. “I’ll be careful. I’ll find them, and then we’ll take them down.”

Logan holds your gaze for a long moment, the tension between you slowly easing but not entirely dissipating. Finally, he nods, though his face remains tight with worry. “Alright. But I’m not letting you out of my sight once we’re in. As soon as you notify, I’ll be right there.”

Scott clears his throat, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand. “Then it’s settled,” he says, his voice a little gruffer than usual, as if he, too, felt the weight of the argument.

The team begins to disperse to finalize preparations, but Logan lingers, pulling you aside for a moment of privacy. His hand finds yours. 

“I know you can handle this, but you gotta understand—I can’t lose you again, darlin’. So, whatever happens in there, you keep your head down and remember we’ve got your back.”

You look up at him, seeing the layers of emotion in his eyes—fear, anger, love, and a deep, almost desperate need to protect you. It both breaks your heart and strengthens your resolve. “I know, Logan,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return. “I’m not planning on being a hero. I just want to—need to—do my part to end this.”

He releases a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nods slowly, reluctantly. “Alright. Let’s get this done.”

—-

Nestled deep within the uneven mountain range, strategically positioned on a plateau that overlooks the surrounding valleys, is the organizations base.  The avalanche Ororo summoned looms threateningly, large bursts of snow and ice whipping through the valley, creating the perfect cover for your operation. Wind whistles through the land, followed by the rumble of mountains that shakes the very ground beneath your feet. 

The distraction is in full effect.

Before you left the Blackbird, Logan pulled you aside. He didn’t waste time with words, instead leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that was both loving and fierce. It was a reminder of everything he felt, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for in the heat of the moment.

And when he pulled back, his gaze swapping over you, like he was seeking to memorize every detail.  

“Remember, I’ll be right with you as soon as you say the words”

Now, you’re crouched near a narrow ledge beside a small door, eyes scanning the base of the mountain where the compound’s defenses are now focused on the disaster outside. Logan and Jean are already inside, their presence wreaking havoc within, diverting the guards’ attention away from you. Every so often, you could hear distant sounds of conflict—the telltale shink of Logan’s claws, and the panicked shouts of guards trying to coordinate their defenses as he ripped through them.

You slip inside, lowering the trap door behind you as the sound of the storm fades into the distance. The passage is dark and cramped, the air thick with the scent of earth and stone. Each movement you make is deliberate and careful to avoid making noise. You’re able to find a somewhat agreeable position on your hands and knees, beginning the descent through the passage as it slopes downward, leading you deeper into the mountain and closer to your target.

After what feels like an eternity, the route widens, and you find yourself at the entrance to a narrow corridor. Pausing, you listen intently for any signs of movement, but all you hear is the mechanics behind the facility’s generators, muffled by the layers of rock and metal that surround you. The halls are freakishly quiet, the guards either drawn away by the avalanche or dispatched to Logan and Jean. Your breathing stays steady, your senses heightened as you navigate the twists and turns of the labyrinthine interior.

You’re close now, so close you can you can hear the muffled voices of the leaders on the other side, in the room where they’re all holed up, their tones laced with fear and frustration. Your heart pounds in your chest as you approach the final corner, every nerve ending on edge as you prepare to make your move.

But as you round the corner, you freeze in your place—there’s a guard standing just outside the door to the leaders’ room. He hasn’t seen you yet, but it’s only a matter of seconds before he does. His hand is already reaching for the radio on his belt, about to call in an alert.

You have no time to think, only to act. With a burst of speed, you lunge forward, slamming your hand over his mouth just as he begins to open it to shout. His eyes widen in shock, and he immediately starts to struggle, his body twisting as he tries to break free from your grip. 

​​Unfortunatley, you knew from the moment you saw the him that using your powers wasn’t an option. The hallway is dark and narrow, the only illumination coming from faint emergency lights far down the corridor. If you were to use your cosmic abilities, the glow alone would give you away, casting unnatural light in a place that should be cloaked in shadows. Who know’s what threats that would attract?

Every instinct in you screams to unleash your energy, to end the fight quickly and decisively, but the risk is too great. One wrong move, one flash of light or sound that doesn’t belong, and the entire mission could be compromised. The element of surprise is your greatest advantage right now, and you can’t afford to lose it.

That’s why you have to do this the hard way—silently, and with nothing but your own strength and wits. It’s a gamble, but it’s the only way to ensure you reach the leaders undetected, without alerting every remaining guard in the compound to your presence.

The guard’s elbow connects with your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you don’t let go. You tighten your grip, your other hand grabbing his wrist to prevent him from drawing his weapon. He thrashes violently, his strength surprising as he drives his knee into your stomach, nearly doubling you over with the force of the blow.

Pain radiates through your abdomen, but you grit your teeth and hold on, knowing that if he gets free, it would all be over. You push back with all your strength, slamming him into the wall with a sickening thud. His head snaps back, dazed, but he’s not down yet.

He recovers quickly, his free hand darting toward your face in a desperate attempt to claw at your eyes. You twist your head just in time, feeling his nails graze your cheek as you shift your weight, using the momentum to drive your knee into his thigh. Letting out a muffled grunt against your hand, he swivels his body again, this time managing to get one arm free. Before you can react, his fist slams into your side. You stagger, your grip slipping for just a fraction of a second—long enough for him to start reaching for the radio again.

Panic surges through you as you realize he’s about to call for help. Desperation drives you and with a burst of adrenaline, you bring your elbow up, smashing it into the side of his head. The blow is hard enough to daze him, and you use the opening to drive him back against the wall again, harder this time.

He slumps slightly, but you know you can’t let up. You release your grip on his wrist and, with a quick movement, drive your hand into the pressure point just below his ear. His eyes widen in shock, his body going rigid for a brief moment before his legs give out beneath him. You catch him as he falls, easing him to the ground as quietly as you can.

Your heart is pounding, your breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as you crouch beside the unconscious guard. The silence of the hallway is deafening in the aftermath of the struggle, your pulse thundering in your ears. You take a moment to steady yourself, forcing your breathing to slow as you check the hallway for any sign of other guards. It’s still clear—for now.

You glance down at the guard, making sure he’s truly out cold before dragging him into a shadowed corner, out of sight from anyone who might happen to pass by. You press a hand to your side, wincing as you feel the dull ache where he landed that brutal punch. But there’s no time to dwell on the pain—you’re too close to your target to stop now.

With the guard taken care of, you turn your attention back to the room, adjusting your stance and running through the plan in your mind. There’s no mask, no barrier to hide your identity. The men in that room will know who you are—or at least, they’ll think they do. At the gala, you were Mrs. Daniels, the woman they believed was just another wealthy socialite. But tonight, they’ll learn the truth.

“I’m at the target,” you whisper into the comms, keeping your voice low. “Moving in now.”

With one final glance down the corridor to ensure there is no one else following your tracks, you slither through the door, moving like a shadow into the room. The old men are gathered around a large table, their expressions ranging from fear to fury as they argue in low, heated tones. Papers and maps are strewn across the table, evidence of their frantic attempts to come up with a plan as the everything falls apart around them.

They don’t notice you at first, too absorbed in their dispute to realize they’re no longer alone. You take advantage of their distraction, positioning yourself in the shadows near the door. 

“What do you mean we’ve lost contact with the guard tower?” one of them hisses, his face pale and sweat-slicked. “This place is supposed to be impenetrable!”

“We should never have moved to this location,” another snaps, his hands trembling as he clutches the edge of the table. “We’re sitting ducks here!”

You let them bicker for a moment longer, taking in the layout of the room and assessing the situation. The leaders are cornered, with no visible exits other than the door you came through. 

They’ve completely exposed themselves to you, and they don’t even realize it yet.

Finally you step forward, your presence announced by the soft rustle of your clothing as you emerge from the shadows, and the effect is immediate—every head snaps in your direction, eyes widening in shock as they take in the sight of you standing there.

The man who was speaking freezes mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he takes a closer look at you. Recognition dawns on his face, followed quickly by fear. “You… You’re the woman from the gala,” he stammers, his voice shaking. “Mrs. Daniels?”

You give him a cold, measured look, the corner of your mouth twitching into a faint smile. “Not exactly,” you answer, “But I’m glad you remember me.”

Without warning, you raise your hands, cosmic energy flaring to life around your fingers, shimmering with an ethereal glow. You begin shape the energy into chains, each one snaking through the air and wrapping around the men, binding them to their seats. They struggle, but the chains are unbreakable, pinning them in place with a force that leaves no room for escape. It’s almost satisfying, seeing these men in chains, so helpless—reminds you of when you were in the exact same position, in the dark, cold, cell of the island. 

One of the men lets out a strangled cry, his eyes wide with terror. “Please! Don’t hurt us! We—we can negotiate!”

You step closer, your eyes cold as you survey the scene. “Negotiate? You think you have anything to bargain with?” you demand, knowing they won’t be able to answer. “You’ve done enough damage. Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

Just as you finish speaking, the door bursts open, and Logan strides in, Hank, who had managed to enter the compound after downloading all the data, following close behind. Logan’s eyes immediately zero in on the men and his expression shifts from that of concern to a furious glare. 

“You’re lucky it was her who got here first,” the mutant seethes, “She spared you.”

The men cower in their seats, trembling visibly under the weight of Logan’s unrelenting gaze as he stalks toward them with a predatory grace. His presence fills the room, seeping into every corner, suffocating any hope they had of escape. With each step he takes, slow and deliberate, the air thickens, his movements calculated to instill fear in their very bones. His claws, unsheathed and glinting ominously in the dim light, are slick with fresh blood, and as he takes in the sight before him, his eyes narrow with cold, lethal intent, the silence punctuated only by the sound of their labored breaths, ragged with terror.

“If it were up to me, you’d be begging for mercy right about now.”

Hank, who had been watching from behind with a calculating expression, steps in. He places a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Logan, we need them to talk.”

Logan doesn’t move at first, his eyes locked onto the quivering man in front of him. Ultimately, he narrows his eyes, pulling his claws back ever so slightly, though his posture remains alert and intense. 

“They better start talking, then.”

Contrasting Logan’s blatant display of fury, Hank steps forward collectedly. His voice is even, almost clinical, as he addresses the leaders. “We have all the information we need—every file, every document. Your entire operation is in our hands. You have two choices: confess everything in a public conference, or we leak it all. The world will know what you’ve done, and you’ll be hunted down by more than just us.”

The man you recognize as the stocky one from the gala, perhaps emboldened by Hank’s more measured approach, tries to regain some semblance of control. He splutters, “You can’t do this… We’ll—”

But before he can finish, Logan is on him in a flash, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him forward until they’re nose to nose. The corners of your mouth flip upwards while the man lets out a strangled gasp, his eyes wide with terror.

“You don’t get to tell us what we can or can’t do. You’ve already lost, old man. Now it’s just a matter of how much pain you’re going to be in when this is over.”

Instantly, the stocky man loses all bravado, his face draining of colour is response to Logan’s aggression. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but no sound comes out. He’s utterly terrified, and rightfully so. The other groupies, seeing their comrade’s terror, exchange nervous glances. They’ve been completely outmaneuvered, and now they’re at the mercy of those they’ve wronged.

“They’ll confess,” you decide for them, stepping forward, gaining control over the situation. You deactivate the cosmic chains binding the men, though the energy still crackles ominously around your hands, a reminder of the power you wield. “Because they know what’s waiting for them if they don’t.”

Logan gives you a nod, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. There’s a flicker of pride in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you’ve shown. “Good work, darlin’,” he muses.

You return his words with a small smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you now that the worst is over. 

“Let’s get them out of here.”

You, Logan, and Hank quickly work together to secure the leaders, ensuring they’re ready for transport back to the Blackbird. They’re too shaken to resist, their egos completely shattered. The sounds of battle outside have quieted—the rest of the team has done their job well.

Once inside the jet, Logan pulls you into a close embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of his body against yours should be comforting, but as he tightens his hold, a sharp pain flares up in your side where the guard had landed a solid kick earlier.

You can’t help the wince that escapes you, the pain lingering and making it hard to fully relax in his hold. Logan immediately pulls back, concern flashing in his eyes as they search yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low but edged with worry. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head slightly, “I’m fine,” you say, but the way Logan’s eyes narrow tells you he’s not buying it.

He doesn’t say anything else, just waits, his gaze steady and insistent. Finally, you sigh, knowing there’s no point in hiding it from him. “I ran into a guard right outside the room,” you admit, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “He was about to call for backup, and I had to take him out quietly. It got… a little rough.”

His expression darkens, his jaw clenching as he processes what you said. “I should track that bastard down and make him regret ever laying a hand on you.”

Despite the seriousness of his tone, there’s a warmth in his words that makes your heart swell. You reach out, placing a hand on his chest. “I handled it, Logan. It was just a fight, and I won.”

He grunts, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t entirely fade. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy making him pay for it.”

You give him a small, reassuring smile. “Well, you can save that energy for when we get these guys to talk.”

Logan nods, his expression becoming serious once more as he looks toward the secured leaders, who are being watched by the rest of the team. “They’ll talk,” he says, his voice carrying a promise of retribution.

“And if they don’t… well, we’ll make sure they wish they had.”

—-

Turns out, getting people to admit their crimes when threatened with their lives is easier than you thought. The men, who at one point, seemed so arrogant and untouchable, crumbled like a house of cards under the pressure. Faced with the undeniable evidence the X-Men had gathered and the very real threat of exposure, they agreed to hold a public conference, where they would confess to everything. 

The world watched in shock as these well-known figureheads divulged their involvement in anti-mutant activities, including kidnapping, torture, and illegal experimentation. The fallout was immediate and severe—governments and law enforcement agencies across the globe moved swiftly to dismantle the remnants of their organization or any ties they had to its leaders, and within days, the men found themselves behind bars, stripped of their power and influence.

For the first time in months, you feel a sense of peace settling into your bones. The constant weight of fear, the dread that had plagued you since your capture, begins to lift. You’re finally able to breathe again, knowing that the people who hurt you, who threatened everything you cared about, are rotting in a cell, where they belong.

—

It’s late evening at the X-Mansion, and you find yourself in the kitchen, the comforting whir of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of dishes the only sounds breaking the quiet. Logan is there too, leaning next to you against the counter with a beer in hand. He’s out of his combat gear now, dressed in his usual casual attire—a worn flannel shirt and jeans, still stunning in the rugged simplicity of his appearance. 

“You know,” you say, glancing at him with a playful smile as you pour yourself a glass of water, “I never took you for the beer-in-the-kitchen type. Always thought you’d be more of a ‘brooding with whiskey in the dark’ kind of guy.”

He smirks, taking a long sip from his bottle before responding. “Depends on the night,” he replies with a wink. “Sometimes I like to mix things up, keep you on your toes.”

You roll your eyes, setting your glass down on the counter as you lean in a little closer. “Is that so? Well, I’ve got to admit, seeing you all domestic in here is kind of nice. Who knew the Wolverine had a soft spot for late-night kitchen hangouts?”

Logan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes your heart skip a beat. “What can I say, sweetheart? Can’t have you thinking I’m all claws and no charm.”

“Oh, so you’re charming now?” you tease, reaching out to poke him playfully in the chest. “I must’ve missed that memo.”

Settings his beer down, Logan captures your hand in his and pulls you closer, his voice dropping to that thick, throaty tone that shoots right down to your core. “You know better than anyone that I’ve got plenty of charm. You just keep pretending not to notice.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as close the distance, resting your head against his chest. “Maybe I like keeping you on your toes too.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—just the two of you, in the quiet of the kitchen, with nothing hanging over your heads. No missions, no threats, just peace.

Just like he had wished for. 

“You know,” Logan starts after a long stretch of comfortable silence, “you’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

You tilt your head back to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who can heal from pretty much anything.”

He gives you a small, affectionate smile, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles along your waist. “I’m serious. What you went through… what we just did… not everyone could come out of that as strong as you have.”

“It helps to have someone like you around,” you admit softly. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

A tender look crosses his face, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did more than just survive, darlin’. You fought back, and you won. Don’t ever forget that.”

The moment is interrupted when the kitchen door swings open, and Ororo walks in, pausing mid-step when she sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. Her eyebrows shoot up, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Ororo teases, her tone light and playful. “Logan, I never expected you to be such a romantic. You’ve been holding out on us.”

Logan doesn’t miss a beat, his response immediate and full of that rough-edged warmth that you’ve come to love so much. 

“Only for her.”

Ororo’s smile widens, and she gives you a wink before heading to the fridge, grabbing an apple and turning back to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. Just remember to keep it PG in the kitchen.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and unburdened as you bury your face in Logan’s chest, feeling the deep rumble of his own laughter vibrating against you. The sound is rich, a low and genuine noise that fills the space between you with fondness and affection.

“PG, huh?” you murmur into his shirt, your voice laced with amusement. “Guess that means we’re in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m always on my best behavior,” he smirks

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

He chuckles, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe. But I can be when it counts.”

You shake your head, grinning as you playfully swat his chest. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Logan captures your hand again, his grip warm and firm, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve already seen it,” he says huskily, “But if you need more convincing…”

You laugh, reaching your free hand to the back of his head, pulling him down into a passionate kiss, his mouth warm against yours, the taste of beer clouding your senses. 

“You’re a good man, Logan,” you get out in between kisses, “And I’m glad you’re mine.”

Logan’s eyes gleam, and he pulls you impossibly closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. “I’m glad you’re mine too, darlin’.”

Later, when he finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle on the counter, he turns back to you, his expression content. “Ready to call it a night?”

You nod, feeling the pleasant weight of exhaustion beginning to settle in. “Yeah, I think so. But only if you promise to keep up this charming act tomorrow.”

Logan grins, taking your hand as you both head toward the door. 

“Just for you, darlin’. Just for you.”

-------

A/N: thank you everyone for all the reblogs, comments, and notes i've received on this blog these last few days, i can't believe it's growing to fast!

[prythianpages]

Dandelions | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | The moment in which you realize you're in love.

word count: 1,713

warnings: fluff, kissing

a/n: Surprise Surprise! This is my 1,000th post on this blog and I wanted to dedicate it to Green Witch reader <3 This can be read as a stand alone. I was on reddit when I saw a comment that reminded me of these two and I just had to write it out before I lost inspiration, even though it was midnight when I saw it.

Walking through the cobblestone streets of Velaris, your heart feels light and content, further lifted by the enchantment that seems to weave through every building and tree. The rain from the afternoon had left behind shimmering puddles and brought upon a misty evening. Warm and humid, the air was alive with the croak of contented toads and the delicate flutter of moths.

As a green witch, your connection to nature runs deep. You cherish all living things, from the majestic trees lining the streets to the smallest insects that flit about underfoot. Many might find them insignificant, even terrifying. But to you, they’re lovely.

Yet, among all the wonders of Velaris, it's the shadowsinger walking slightly ahead of you who captivates your heart the most. 

His dark hair, damp from the mist, clings to the back of his neck. It curls at the ends and you’re sure there’s a matching, distinctive curl of hair or two that falls down over his forehead that you would love to run your fingers through. His wings are tucked into him and though his back is turned toward you, you notice the slight tilt of his head downwards. 

You also can’t help but notice the way his shadows slither along the ground in front of you both. Almost as if they’re clearing a path for the both of you. You don’t think much of it, even though you’re usually the one walking slightly ahead. Azriel is always attentive to your surroundings.

Your lips curve into a tender smile as you continue to admire him from behind. The mating bond hums softly between you. You give a tug and it’s instant, the way your chest swells with warmth as he responds. He doesn’t turn around but you catch the subtle twitch of his right wing. Something you notice he does when flustered or blushing.

Though you both are now aware of the mating bond or at least now aware that you both are aware, you came to a mutual agreement to take things slow.  So Azriel courted you, determined to right the wrongs of his initial coldness. His efforts to show you his true self, the side he's always wanted you to see, have been nothing short of enchanting.

You always suspected there was more to Azriel than the stoic warrior facade he presented to you. And as the days turned into weeks, he revealed layers of his personality that left you breathless.

You discovered his love for reading, the way his eyes softened when he spoke about his favorite books. He took you to his favorite hidden spots in Velaris that he wanted to share only with you. 

One evening, he surprised you with a picnic by the Sidra River. Since you could not prepare him food due to the bond, he had taken it upon himself to prepare all your favorite foods. 

His gestures were not always grand, but they were always meaningful. Like the time he spent hours helping you gather rare herbs for your potions. Or the quiet evenings you spent in his arms, where words were unnecessary.  Yet, he never stayed the night, always leaving before it got too late.

“y/n?”

“Yes?” 

You hadn’t realized he’d been talking to you, too lost in your thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say again, seeing that you have reached your small townhome. Your apothecary is located right next door, the sign swaying slightly despite the lack of wind.

The fae lights hanging from your door’s overhang flicker on as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the entrance. From the window, you spot a set of two glowing eyes watching you, bringing forth a smile. It’s your cat, Binx. He blinks at you in greeting.

Azriel draws your attention back to him as he carefully makes his way up the three steps that lead to your door. He offers you his hand, not wanting you to slip on the wet cobblestone. You take his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers intertwine with yours, strong yet gentle.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Azriel’s gaze locks onto yours, his hazel eyes warm with emotion. “I’d do anything for you,” he replies softly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. There’s a vulnerability in his voice, a raw honesty that makes your heart ache. 

He steps closer and the space between you seems to hum with the energy of the bond you share. You find yourself giving in to the irresistible pull of that bond, wrapping your arms around his neck, and bringing his head down toward yours. Your lips meet in a tender kiss, a soft and delicate exchange but as the hands at your waist travel upwards, it morphs into something more heated. A kiss that speaks volumes about the growing connection between you two. 

His hands cradle your face, one moving to the back of your head as he gently pushes you against your door. It’s when your tongue traces along his bottom lip that he pulls away. “You should go inside before the rain comes down again,” he breathes but you catch the way his pupils flare as he gazes down at your swollen lips. Droplets begin to fall from the sky yet neither of you move.

“I should,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you pull him back in for another kiss.

**

You linger by the window, fingers pressed against your lips, drawn to the sight of Azriel walking away in the gentle drizzle. It wasn’t your first kiss and certainly not the last. Each kiss only further fueled the desire between you both but you two had agreed to wait to be intimate with one another until you’re ready to accept the bond. Something that was becoming a struggle with every passing day.

As you watched Azriel go, you saw something that made your heart skip a beat. He was pausing every few steps, his fingers gently lifting what appeared to be small worms off the wet pavement and guiding them to safety in the lush greenery that bordered the streets. His shadows danced around his feet, helping him.

And then it hit you—why Azriel’s attention had been on the ground as he walked you home earlier, why his shadows had been forming a pathway. He was saving the worms from being stepped on. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were slipping out your door and running toward him.

“Azriel!”

Azriel turns, his brows furrowing in concern as soon as he sees you. He raises one hand—the one that hadn’t been picking up the worms—to caress your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a rogue tear. “Why are you crying?” he asks, frowning.

“Because you’re so sweet and thoughtful and kind and I love you and—”

“You love me?” he interrupts softly, his right wing twitching as a blush creeps onto his cheeks.

“Yes, you. I love you and only you,” you repeat, voice trembling with the weight of your feelings.

And then he’s kissing you again, letting his lips convey those three words for him.

**

You glance over at Azriel, his focused expression making your heart swell with what you’re now certain is love. Every time he looks your way, his gaze softens and you feel like you’re about to burst.

His eyes had widened slightly when you had offered to help, not realizing he’d been caught. He had protested, claiming you’d only get sick if you stayed out in the rain with him. But you had ignored him, kneeling down on the damp ground.

So now you both were kneeling on the ground, the cool rain soaking through your clothes as you helped the small bugs to a safer path. Azriel’s shadows were eager to help as well, nudging worms and beetles your way. A bit too eager, as they sometimes sent the bugs skittering away toward the grass, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the playful chaos.

Just as you’re about to pick up another worm, a small movement catches your eye. A toad hops out from under a bush. Azriel startles but you grin, scooping it up into your hands. When he inches away from you, your eyes light up in mischief.

Before he knows it, you’re chasing him around, the toad held out in front of you. Azriel dodges and weaves, his laughter mingling with yours in the rain. His shadows seem to be on your side as one sneaky tendril crosses over his leg and he trips. You fall over him, the both of you collapsing in a heap on the wet grass. The toad hops out of your hold, much to Azriel’s relief. You’re both breathless and grinning.

"Do you still love me now?" You tease.

“More than anything,” he replies immediately, his wings stretching out under him to fold over you and shield you from the rain.

“Would you still love me if I were a toad?” You challenge.

Azriel laughs, his hazel eyes twinkling as he pulls you closer. Your head rests on his chest. “Even if you were a toad. I’d find a way to become one with you,” he says, the sincerity in his tone nearly bringing you to tears again, as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

The rain grows heavier, and the two of you finally decide to seek shelter, running back into your home. When you ask him to stay the night, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes. After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes—Feyre had magically sent Azriel fresh garments at his request—the two of you nestle into the comforting warmth of your bed.

It’s not big enough to accommodate his wings. Something you're already working on replacing. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it only gives him more reason to hold you closer.

Your back is flush against his chest, one of his strong arms draped protectively over your waist as you both watch the rain patter against the bedroom window. His chin rests gently atop your head and you close your eyes, feeling utterly safe and cherished. 

The bond between you sings with contentment, but it’s the love dwelling within that bond that makes your heart overflow with joy.

a/n: This takes place after the first imagine but before you accept the bond with a witchy ritual as mentioned in these HCs, which I may or may not write. In my mind, Azriel fell first but you fell harder. Not only is this the first time you say I love you but also the first time he stays the night.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming

[series masterlist]

[jayke0]

Just The Tip

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: Marc admits his love for you, and you both end up a little more desperate for each other than expected, so much so that he can't even get inside you properly.

Rating: 18+, smut

Warnings/Content: a bit of angst at the start, fluff, romantic, desperate Marc, just the tip, oral (f receiving), male masturbation, unprotected sex, totally unrealistic and self-indulgent, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,605

Credit: @automnepoet (who also requested this btw) for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"Marc…" is what you can barely mutter as your boyfriend slides his tongue over yours and licks into the heat of your mouth ferociously.

"Marc–"

Your second attempt at getting his attention is futile.

"Marc!"

Finally, he releases the suction he has on your lips, looking at you with wide blown out pupils that make you think Steven might've fronted in the short time he's been sucking your face off.

"What's gotten into you, sweetheart?" Your tone is soft as you run your hands through his curls and you feel him press into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut briefly to calm himself.

They had been away for a few days on a mission, nothing too big, which is why you're so confused now. They've been on much longer trips away, much more dangerous trips, but they'd never come home like this. Maybe he hadn't been totally honest with you, maybe something bad had truly happened and now he's trying to make out with you like it's his final chance… the thought makes your stomach coil with anxiety.

A sharp inhale brings you back into the room, and you notice he's staring at you again, though his gaze is more lidded; more "Marc" like.

"Nothing, I just…"

The anxiety builds stronger in your gut, stretching up to your throat to clench it in a vice grip.

"I don't want you to freak out, but-"

Uh oh.

"I almost got killed," he brings a finger up to stop you from interrupting him. "and it really put everything into perspective for me… I realised how much I love you, and how fucking much I'd miss you, even in death."

A cocktail of relief, sadness and anxiety all bubble inside you, making your ears hot and your expression evident on your face.

"Baby…" You can't help it, but tears start forming in the corners of your eyes despite the attempts to blink them away. "I love you too, so much–" You're leaping forward before he can even get another word out, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as if he might melt away from right underneath you. "Please be more careful… I need you, all of you." The mumbles are quiet in his ear, and you're both left with just your slow breathing for a few moments, Marc's hands rubbing your back comfortingly.

You pull back and admire his big, soft eyes, ones that you could even say you enjoy a bit more than Steven's, purely because it's a rare occurrence. Raking your fingers through his curls, you lean forward into his lips again and give him an affectionate peck, one that soon turns into you both panting against each other's mouths once more.

"Mmm, missed you so fucking much, baby." Marc whines, like actually whines, and it's a noise that has arousal spreading in your tummy and between your legs.

"Show me how much. Please, darling."

The man is jumping on you before you can go back to your heated kiss, his necklace dangling above you as he situates between your legs and grinds himself against your core.

"Lemme taste that cunt, sweetheart, please?" Your boyfriend asks as he's already kissing down your body until his lips reach your lower tummy. You nod, eager to feel his tongue again, and lift your hips so he can pull your pyjamas off. "Want you on your front though, can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Marc, whatever you want. Just want you inside me."

A growl fills your ears and spreads to your wet cunt as he grabs your hips and flips you onto your front, the gesture making you grab the cushions for a second to steady yourself. Looking over your shoulder, you can just about see Marc leaning down to lick a long strip up your lips, making you instead rest your head on the armrest with a soft sigh.

His tongue is delving between your folds in seconds and tasting your arousal, lapping up every inch of that sweet stickiness he'd missed so damn much. A pleased hum makes your desperate cunt throb before his nose bumps your lips and his tongue slides over your clit perfectly. The action makes you jolt and whimper, which only makes him do it again, purposefully teasing your poor clit till you're writhing on the couch and begging for a release while his nose teases your aching hole. You're clenching around nothing in minutes, pressing back on his tongue and nose as white hot pleasure surges through your body and makes your muscles tense and relax all in one go.

You whimper softly and look back at him again. "Please baby, let me feel your cock." You give your best pout, craving that initial stretch and feeling of being filled that only he can satisfy.

When Marc pulls away, the shininess of his chin makes you blush; were you really that wet? Or was it his saliva? you don't have time to ponder as you feel your boyfriend leaning over you, peppering kissing over your neck and whatever parts of your back he can get too.

"Such a pretty girl, my pretty baby. Been waiting to feel your cunt again, it's made me fucking crazy."

Maybe being away had made him a poet too.

You feel his tip suddenly pressing against your hole and you brace yourself for the delicious stretch… but it never comes, instead you just feel the blunt tip rutting against your walls. For a moment you think your boyfriend has malfunctioned somehow, but when you look back at him you see his head tilted back in pleasure, brows knitted together tightly while his jaw hangs slack.

"Marc? Are you o—"

"Just stay still baby, stay just like that babygirl." His words are breathless.

One hand rests on your ass, while the other wraps around your thigh and pulls you back on him just barely.

"Feels good like this." Your hole feels like a massage for his swollen tip, and he finds himself getting swept up in the feeling of it, the tightness of just the entrance and the lewd 'pop' sound it makes when he pulls out.

You expect this from Steven, maybe even Jake on a submissive day, but never Marc. He's always so good at holding himself together and fucking you for your pleasure, but he almost seems feral right now, just fucking what he can.

"Missed you so much baby." He repeats with a mumble and moan.

As he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, you realize he must be close, so you start clenching around him, making soft noises for him. "Fill me up Marc, wanna feel you cum in me again baby."

A low groan rumbles in his chest as you barely feel hot ropes painting your walls before he's pulling out and painting your hole instead, coming onto it and your thighs rather than inside. You kinda wish he'd filmed it or something, because ultimately the idea of him jacking off on your hole had made you much more excited than you'd thought, finding yourself pushing back on him and his softening cock.

He pants softly and rubs your ass, giving it a soft pinch and slap that makes you giggle.

"What was that all about then, hmm?" You tease with a grin.

"Don't you dare tell the other two."

"Oh, I'm going to."

His fingers splitting you open makes you gasp and grit your teeth, rolling your hips back on them.

"We'll see about that, baby."

You feel his free arm snake around your body and pull you up flush against his chest, your own chest resting neatly on top of his thick arm as he holds you close to him and draws shivers over your body with his breath.

"Y–you really don't have to do this Marc—" You stammer, but your body disobeys your words and continues to grind on his thick digits, showing him all he needs to continue pleasuring you.

"It's ok, baby. You know I love doing this, love pleasing you, alright?" His breath ghosts your ear and his tongue pokes out to lick the shell, teeth nipping it softly. "Just lemme pleasure this cunt, my cunt."

Oh lord, you haven't heard him say that in a while, but it makes you moan mortifyingly loud, your voice cracking a little as your breath is shortened by the firm grasp he has on you. Zealously, your hands struggle to grapple his arms when his fingers work faster inside you, dragging over the spot that has your orgasm rushing towards you all too fast, building from your toes all the way up to your flushed ears.

"You love my fingers, tell me you love them, babygirl."

"I do! I l–ove them baby-." Is all you can stammer.

Instinctively, your head tilts to the side to allow Marc access to your neck, and he does just that. He marks you like he hasn't seen you in months, drawing gasps and soft sobs from your chest as he breaks the soft skin and heat blossoms underneath, all rushing too your cunt until finally—

"Fuuuuckk!"

Your body rolls against his while you ride out your second orgasm, your thighs shaking and struggling to keep you up as your whole body shudders, whimpers and whines being all that's left of the intense pleasure.

You come down slowly, leaning back against Marc with all your weight so he can hold you close and pepper your neck with kisses.

"Good girl. I love you sweetheart."

"Mmmm…" You simply mumble at first, brain still foggy. "I love you too."

...........................................................................

Tagging people 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose

[myseungsunglove]

First Pitch | Ksm

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader 

Warnings: angsty, wrapped in fluff

Word Count:  1.2k

𖠫Summary: Seungmin struggles to understand why his fiance can’t be by his side on one of the most important days of his life. 

✎A/N✎: This has just been floating around in my head since Seungmin threw his first pitch. It’s nothing special, but I’m kind of in love with it. Hope someone out there likes it, if any of you remember that I actually write since it’s been over a month. hides in shame 

��� ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「©  April 11, 2024 by myseungsunglove」

You sit in the car on the drive to the stadium and the mood is somber. Seungmin is nervous about throwing the first pitch of the game between the All Korea team and the LA Dodgers, a team that he has always admired. 

Couple that with the fact that you aren't allowed to be there with him during one of the biggest moments of his life and you could cut the tension in the car with a knife. Seungmin had wanted you by his side for the first pitch and the company had given the both of you a resounding no. You understood why, and at the end of the day, you believe that Seungmin did too, but it didn’t mean that he was happy about it. 

“Explain it to me one more time,” he mutters, interlacing his long fingers with yours as he glares at the back of the manager's head. “Like I’m five.” You know the anger isn’t necessarily directed at your manager, but when Seungmin has his mind set on something that seems logical to him, he just can’t let it go. He is stubborn that way.

The manager sighs audibly from the front seat, his shoulders rising and falling visibly as he turns to face the two of you. 

“Seungmin, we’ve gone over this many times,” he responds patiently, avoiding the discussion altogether. 

“So go over it again,” Seungmin snaps. 

“Seung,” you whisper beside him, squeezing his hand gently. He doesn’t look at you. 

“Please,” he adds for your benefit. 

The manager blinks slowly at him, empathy coupled with patience etched on his face. 

“Y/n would be the only member of SKZ that is here with you when everyone else’s schedules are too busy,” your manager starts. "Frankly, her schedule is too busy to even be here as long as she is."

“Y/n is the only member of SKZ that I’m engaged to, so it makes sense that she’s here,” Seungmin retorts. “I fail to see the issue.” 

The manager sighs heavily. 

“You are well aware that the public doesn’t know that. They don’t even know you’re together. If she is the only one to show up at your first pitch, people will talk. Everyone will speculate. They already do and this will just add fuel to the fire.”

“Let them talk,” Seungmin says with a shrug, his brow set. He’s nothing if not determined. 

“Minnie,” you whisper beside him. His attention is pulled away from the manager, his frustrated puppy eyes turning on you like a weapon. “If I’m the only one here, if people start to talk, this event, this huge opportunity for you becomes about us and what we are. It’s no longer about this awesome opportunity that you are getting,” you tell him. "If even one of the guys could have come too, maybe it would be different, but you know we're preparing for the fanmeeting and a comeback. There is no time." You squeeze his hand gently. "But I made time."

He scowls at you, but it’s soft, as he considers your argument.

“I know,” he relents, looking down at your clasped hands, rubbing over the top of your hand gently. His cheeks puff out in frustration and he blows all the air from them before he speaks again. “But I need you there,” he whines. 

It isn't often that Seungmin admits that he needs anyone. His confession makes your heart clench in your chest. You’ve never seen him this nervous before. Not even when he proposed to you. 

With your free hand, you gently place your palm against his cheek and lift his face so that you are eye to eye. 

“I love you more than the air I breathe, Kim Seungmin,” you tell him. 

He leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and slow, his hands parting from yours so that he can grab your waist and pull you into his arms. When he pulls away a little breathless, you speak again. 

“And I will be there,” you assure him. Your manager turns around to look at you, a slightly concerned look on his face. You scowl back at him, a look that tells him you’ve got this under control and to chill out. “I won’t be right beside you, but I've got a seat right behind the catcher. I’ll have the best seat in the house. I’ll be able to see your pretty face and the best opening pitch anyone has ever seen,” you tell him. 

His forehead falls against yours with a sigh. 

“You’ll arrange for me to meet y/n before the game starts to say goodbye before she heads back to the company? After I’ve thrown the pitch?” he asks. The question directed at your manager. 

“We already have,” he says. 

Seungmin’s big brown boba eyes meet yours and they have softened from the start of the conversation. 

“Okay,” he says, resigned, his hands dancing along your thighs nervously like he still has more to say. “Can I have a minute with my fiancé?” he asks. It's not really a question. You realize that the car has parked in a garage at the stadium. You're in a corner away from prying eyes. With tinted windows, no one would know there was anyone in the car. “Alone,” he emphasizes with a small possessive growl. You can’t help the smirk that slips onto your face. 

Without any pushback, the manager and the driver get out of the car and walk a respectable distance away. 

Seungmin wastes no time pulling you onto his lap so that you are straddling him. You sigh longingly as his hands gently caress your face and pull your lips to his. This kiss is hungry, needy. His soft mouth is insistent as his tongue slips past your lips to taste you. His hands have wandered down your body and up under the back of your shirt, the pads of his fingers dancing along your back as he kisses you breathless. 

“Want to tell them,” he mumbles against your mouth, his breath heavy against your lips. “No more secrets,” he adds, kissing you hard again. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes your throat and the thrill that runs through your body at his words. Seungmin doesn’t want your relationship to be behind closed doors anymore. 

“You want everyone to know?” you ask when you're forced to pull away again, your breath coming in short, quick gasps. 

“Yes,” he answers simply, gazing into your eyes. “I can’t have another big moment like this where you can’t be right there with me,” he confesses. “You’re my everything, Y/N,” he looks at you with glassy boba eyes, the emotions he is feeling threatening to overflow. “I need you.” 

You hold his face in yours and stare into his eyes. 

“We’ll talk to Chan and our manager tonight about how to move forward,” you agree. “Surely they knew this was coming sooner rather than later. We’ve been engaged for nearly six months,” you chuckle softly. 

He smiles brightly at you then and you can’t help but return the gesture. He kisses you quick as you move to get off his lap. 

“Alright, my baseball player Kim Seungmin. You’ve got to get out of here and go show them how kick ass you are,” you tell him, kissing him on the cheek. 

He chuckles shyly, your favorite sound only second to his beautiful voice, as he moves to open the door, his shoulders shaking out his shirt like he does when he gets a little nervous. You love that you can still make him flustered even with a simple compliment.

He holds his hand out for you to grab, pulling you from the car and into his waiting arms where he kisses you once more. 

“One for good luck,” he smiles against your lips. 

“Not that you’ll need it,” you tell him, kissing him slowly. 

“Love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“You better,” you smile up at him. “Cause I’m not going anywhere, Kim Seungmin.”

[dissapointu]

what about reader comes home with an entirely different hair colour (for arcane characters) 💛💛

This is such a fun idea! This is how each character would react if the reader came home with a completely new hair color:

————————————————————————

Jinx

Jinx would flip when she sees you walk through the door with a new hair color. She’d be so hyper about it, her eyes wide with excitement as she zooms over to inspect your hair, her mind racing with a thousand chaotic thoughts.

“What is this?! This is amazing!!” Jinx would say, bouncing around you in circles. “You look like a whole new person, and I love it! What do we call this color? I need it for one of my bombs!”

She’d spend the next few hours trying to match your new hair color to all her gadgets, constantly admiring you with a gleeful grin. “I’m jealous! Look at you! This is gonna drive everyone crazy!”

Vi

Vi would blink in surprise when she first sees you, not sure if she’s seeing things. She’d run a hand through her own hair and chuckle, making her way toward you.

“Whoa, that’s… bold. I like it though. You look good, real good,” she’d say, stepping closer to get a better look. “Makes you look even fiercer. But, uh, how’s the new color feel? You feel different?”

Vi would be all about how confident you are in your new look. She might even ask if she can try it out for fun next time, because she’s feeling inspired by your boldness.

Sevika

Sevika would give you a slow, assessing look when you walk in. She wouldn’t be the type to show too much excitement, but there’s a clear flicker of approval in her eyes.

“You always look good,” she’d say, her voice low but full of admiration. “But I’ll admit, that’s a bit unexpected. I like it. Definitely makes a statement.”

Sevika would then casually run a hand through her own hair and add, “Just make sure you don’t draw too much attention. People might get the wrong idea.” But underneath that protective edge, she’d secretly love how you stand out.

Silco

Silco is all about control, so when he sees your new hair, his first instinct is to process the change. He might pause, his gaze scanning you with that sharp, intense focus. After a beat, he’d give you a small, approving nod.

“Bold choice,” he’d say, his tone smooth. “I do enjoy someone who isn’t afraid to stand out.”

He’d approach you, placing a hand on your shoulder, and murmur, “Just make sure it doesn’t draw unnecessary attention. But with you… I trust it’s all part of your plan.” Silco would be fascinated by how much confidence you exude with your new look.

Vander

Vander would blink a couple of times, surprised by the drastic change. But after a few moments, his face would break into a soft smile, his heart swelling with pride.

“You’re always beautiful, no matter the color,” he’d say gently, stepping closer to admire you. “But I’ve gotta admit, this is a change I wasn’t expecting. Looks like you’re embracing your individuality.”

Vander would reach out and brush a strand of your new hair behind your ear, clearly fond of how you embrace your own unique style.

Ekko

Ekko would be caught off guard at first, eyes widening when he sees you walk in with an entirely different hair color. Then he’d break into an awed smile, his usual cool demeanor slipping for a second.

“Whoa, you look like you just stepped out of a dream!” he’d exclaim, stepping closer to you. “Seriously, how’d you pull that off? You look amazing!”

Ekko would spend the next few minutes asking you about the process and maybe even trying to figure out how he could pull off a new look too. “I gotta admit, you look even more like a legend now. How do you keep doing this?”

Jayce

Jayce might not be overly emotional about it at first, but the moment he sees your new hair color, his eyes brighten with admiration.

“That’s… different. But in a good way!” Jayce would say, his voice full of genuine curiosity. “You pull it off really well. Makes you stand out even more. You were already striking, but now?”

He’d take a step closer, maybe even run a hand through your hair, and add, “Definitely suits you. You’re always full of surprises.”

Viktor

Viktor would tilt his head in curiosity when he first sees you, clearly intrigued by the change. He’s used to seeing things in a different light, so this new look would be something that fascinates him.

“An interesting choice, but you wear it well,” Viktor would say, adjusting his glasses. “It suits your personality—bold, unconventional… yet undeniably you.”

Viktor would be a bit shy about touching your hair, but he’d eventually run his fingers through it, intrigued by the softness and the new feel. “I’d love to study how you’re able to make such a striking change with ease. You’ve always been captivating.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would smile warmly when she sees you with your new hair color. She would love how bold you are in expressing yourself, and she’d find herself admiring you even more.

“I think it looks perfect on you,” she’d say, reaching out to touch a strand of your hair. “It’s not the color that makes you stunning, it’s your confidence. But this color? It just adds to your already unique beauty.”

Caitlyn would definitely want to show you off to others, completely unafraid of how people might stare. She’d be proud to be with someone so brave and unapologetically themselves.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be intrigued and impressed by your new look. She values elegance and power, and she can immediately see how this new hair color is a reflection of your strength.

“It suits you,” she’d say, her voice cool but sincere. “It’s a striking choice. I must admit, I didn’t expect this from you, but it works.”

Mel would be the type to get up close, fingers gently brushing through your hair as she admires the way it complements your features. “No matter what color it is, you will always stand out. That’s one thing I admire about you.”

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would take one look at you and nod with approval, clearly impressed by your boldness. She doesn’t show much surprise but is clearly fond of how you’re unafraid to push boundaries.

“You’ve got a way of making any change look like it’s meant to be,” Ambessa would say, crossing her arms and surveying you with a calculated gaze. “I see the power in this choice. It suits you.”

She’d be less overtly affectionate, but she’d definitely respect the confidence you exude with your new look. Ambessa would also see it as another sign of your strength.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would gasp in delight when she first sees you, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “That’s… it’s so you!” she’d say, grinning as she walks over to you. “It’s like you were made for this color.”

She’d give you a big hug, absolutely thrilled about your bold choice. “Honestly, I couldn’t imagine you with anything else now! You look amazing!”

Maddie would be the type to gush over your hair, constantly asking to touch it and comment on how perfect it looks on you. She’s just so in awe of your confidence and beauty.

Lest

Lest wouldn’t be the type to make a big deal out of it, but she’d immediately notice the change and give you a slow, appreciative nod.

“You’re a woman of mystery, aren’t you?” Lest would smirk, her tone playful. “It suits you. I like how you make everything look effortless.”

She’d get up close, lightly brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. “No matter what you do, you always manage to catch my attention. You look even more stunning now.”

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Can you skz reacting to you getting a new / facial piercing ❤️

sorry it took so long!

Chan

Chan was always observant, and he noticed the slight glint on your face as soon as you walked into the room. He blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out what was different. Then it hit him- the small, shiny stud on your nose.

His eyes widened in surprise, a grin spreading across his face. "New piercing?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity as he reached out to lightly touch the air near your nose, careful not to hurt you.

"Yes," you replied, smiling at his reaction.

"It looks really good on you," he said sincerely, his tone softening. "I mean, you always look good, but this…it's pretty." He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, careful to avoid your new piercing. "Does it hurt?"

"Not too much, just a bit sore."

"Well, if you need anything- help cleaning it, more jewelry- I’m your guy," he said with a wink and giggle, his protective instincts kicking in immediately. You knew he’d probably be extra attentive for the next few days, making sure you were comfortable. And knowing how he loved to feel needed, you vowed you ask him for help maintain the smallest things pertaining to your piercing- even if you didn't actually need the help.

Lee Know

Minho’s reaction was subtle, but you knew him well enough to catch the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes when he saw your new piercing. He didn’t say anything right away, just gave you one of those slow, assessing looks before speaking.

"When did you get that?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of approval in his voice. He had been gone the last two weeks on promotionals and you thought it would be fun to get a piercing while he was away.

"A few days after you left," you said, touching the small, pointed studs on your bottom lip.

He nodded, his lips quirking up into a small, amused smile. "Bold move," he commented, moving toward you. "But I like it. It's hot."

There was something in his eyes, a mix of admiration and pride, though he’d never admit it outright. He leaned in closer, pretending to inspect your snake bites more closely. "Just don’t go getting too many," he teased lightly, "I still need to see your pretty face under all that metal."

You laughed, knowing it was his way of showing he liked the piercing. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your jaw before pulling you in for a quick kiss, biting your bottom lip where the piercings were, tugging it slightly when he pulled back, but carefully enough to not hurt you.

When he saw the wide eyes you gave him afterwords he smiled.

"Definitely hot."

Changbin

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up!" Changbin practically shouted the moment he saw you. His eyes were wide, and he immediately stepped closer, staring at the new addition to your face.

You grinned at his reaction, tilting your head slightly so he could get a better look at the small piercing on your eyebrow. "What do you think?" you asked, trying to contain your excitement as you wiggled your brows.

Changbin’s expression was one of pure admiration. "That your piercing is so badass!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. "Y/N-ah you look amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you were getting it done? I could have paid for it!"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you definitely did," he said, still grinning from ear to ear. "It makes you look even tougher- if that’s even possible." He said puppeteering your arms to make you flex. You laughed as he peppered kisses all over your face.

"I'm not tough-" You giggle out, squirming under his embrace."

"Well, you’re way tougher than me. I’d be freaking out." He said in mock seriousness and gave you a proud smile, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "You look amazing, seriously."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped the second he saw the new piercing on your face. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to process what he was seeing, and then his face broke out into a huge smile.

"Whoa…when did you get this?" he asked, his fingers hovering near the small hoop on your upper, eyes wide with admiration.

"Earlier today," you replied, watching his face light up.

"It’s beautiful piercing really suit you,” he said softly, his voice filled with awe. "You always look gorgeous, but this just adds something extra."

His fingers finally brushed gently against your skin, careful not to touch the piercing itself. "You’re so brave. I don’t think I’d ever have the guts to get one, not because of the pain but because maybe it wouldn't look right." he admitted with a shy laugh.

"Everything looks good on you Hyunjin, stop messing around." You shot back.

He continued staring at you, almost as if he was in a daze. "I love it," he whispered, his eyes soft and filled with affection. “It suits you very well, jagi.”

Then, with his usual flair for the dramatic, he pulled you close and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, smiling down at you. "It's perfect just like you."

Han

Han’s reaction was instant and loud. "WHOA! WHAT IS THAT?!" he practically shouted the second you walked through the door. His eyes were wide, and he immediately rushed over to get a closer look.

"It’s a piercing, Jisung," you laughed, amused by how over-the-top he was being. You tilted your head, showing off the small septum ring you were wearing.

Han stared at it in awe, his mouth still slightly open. "You got a piercing? Without telling me?"”

"It was kind of a spontaneous thing," you said with a playful grin.

“Well, it turned out well- whoa. It looks so good!” he said, still sounding shocked but also incredibly excited. "You look amazing! Like, seriously. I didn’t think you could get any cooler, but here we are."

He was practically buzzing with energy, circling around you to admire the piercing from every angle. Tilting your chin up giving him a direct view up your nostrils. "Does it hurt? How do you clean it? Did it cost a lot? Where did you get it pierced? Can I touch it?"

You rolled your eyes affectionately. "It’s fine, Jisung. It’s not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? HUH? This is a huge deal!" he insisted, mouth agape and eyes wide. "You look so cool! I’m kinda jealous, not gonna lie."

Felix

Felix’s reaction was the sweetest, as always. His eyes went wide as soon as he saw the new piercing on your face, and his mouth formed a perfect little "O" of surprise.

"Did you…?" he started, stepping closer to get a better look. "You got a piercing?"

"Yeah, just today," you said, touching the small hoop on your nose.

Felix’s face lit up with a bright smile, his freckles standing out even more as his happiness shone through. "Its very fitting!" he said excitedly. "You look so gorgeous with it!"

He reached out, gently cupping your face with both hands as he admired the piercing. "I really love it," he said, his voice soft and full of affection. "But I love you even more."

You couldn’t help but blush at his sweet words. Felix had a way of making everything feel special, and his reaction to your new piercing was no different.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, concern flashing in his eyes.

"Not really," you assured him with a smile.

"That's good," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. "You look amazing."

Seungmin

Seungmin noticed your new piercing the moment you walked into the room, but in typical Seungmin fashion, he didn’t react right away. He simply raised an eyebrow, his sharp eyes catching the slight glint of the metal on your face.

"You got a piercing," he said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah," you said, smiling. "What do you think?"

He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the small hoop on your lip. Then, without so much as a smile, he nodded. "It suits you," he said simply.

You laughed, knowing that his understated approval meant a lot more than it seemed. "Thanks, Seungmin."

He shifted on the couch, his eyes still fixed on the piercing. Then he turned away from you. "I didn’t expect you to get one, but…I like it," he said, his voice softening just a little. "It makes you look…edgier."

You were observant enough to see the blush creeping up his nexk to his ears.

You could tell he was holding back from showing you that he liked it and it made your heart warm. "Well, I’m glad you approve." You said coming to sit next to him on the couch.

He finally let the smile slip for a second; leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Just don’t get too many," he teased lightly. "I still want to recognize you."

Jeongin

Jeongin’s reaction was pure, unfiltered amazement. His eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped as soon as he saw the piercing.

"Whoa! New piercing!" he practically shouted, his excitement immediately bubbling to the surface.

You grinned, nodding.

Jeongin rushed over, staring at the bar running through your ear. "Cool!" he exclaimed, his voice full of admiration- but concern?.

He was practically bouncing on his feet, his excitement contagious, but his nervousness was evident. "Did it hurt?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you have a really low pain tolerance- like an extremley low pain tolerance- did everything go okay?"

You nodded. "I survived didn't I?"

Jeongin raised an eyebrow.

No need to tell him I might have fainted...

"Now I look so much more awesome right?"

Jeongin laughed as he pulled your face in close to him squishing your cheeks. "The awesomest. Maybe I should get one too, hm?"

"Couple piercings?"

Jeongin’s face lit up even more at that. “I might just do that! But seriously, you look awesome. I love it.”

He gave you a big smile, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "You’re so cool," he said, his voice full of affection. "Even though I know you probably fainted." He said with a wink.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[en-eunhee]

` ୨ ₊ THE REASON WHY EVERYONE HAS A CRUSH ON EUNHEE

SUMMARY. eunhee has an irresistible charm that makes every idol fall for her instantly

DANIELLE'S NOTE. wowie first fan made content!! i used my style for making the thumbnail so i hope you guys enjoy it >3< (+ small lsfm reference in here so if you catch it you know it)

— EUNCHAE STAR DIARY

eunchae's eyes sparkled as she recalled the moment she first met eunhee. "eunhee unnie, when you first walked in, i was so shocked. you're so tall and charismatic," she giggled, glancing at eunhee with admiration. can you teach me your ways? like, how are you so cool all the time?"

eunhee blushed, her usual calm demeanor slipping as she laughed. "what are you talking about, eunchae? i'm not that cool as you say." she said, a little shy.

"no, seriously. you just... have this presence," eunchae continued, beaming. "it's like you're walking in slow motion while everyone else is normal speed."

eunhee shook her head, laughing harder. "you're making me embarrassed now!" she said, trying to hide her flushed face. "but... maybe i can teach you a few tricks."

— BEHIND THE SCENES OF ENHYPEN MUSIC BANK

sooyoung stood at a distance, watching eunhee pose gracefully on the stairs as the manager snapped photos. eunhee looked effortlessly elegant, and sooyoung couldn't take her eyes off her. after a few moments, sooyoung pulled out her own phone and snapped a couple of candid shots of eunhee.

she glanced down at the pictures, her breath catching. "why does she look this good?" sooyoung muttered to herself, a small smile forming on her lips. "i’m gonna delete this photo," she joked, showing the picture to the camera "she looks way too good in it."

the manager laughed while sooyoung grinned, admiring the shot again. "actually, never mind. I’ll keep it for… research purposes," she added with a wink, completely whipped for eunhee.

— WEVERSE LIVE WITH SUNGHOON

on weverse live, sunghoon was casually chatting with fans when he spotted a comment that caught his attention.

he squinted at the screen, reading it out loud with a slight smile, "what’s your ideal type?"

leaning back, he thought for a second before his eyes lit up, a playful grin forming. "hmm... my ideal type? i like a girl who's, let’s see... 167 cm, enfj, born on may 17, and... looks like a black cat."

he smirked, clearly amused with himself. the chat exploded as fans realized how oddly specific his description was. with a soft, almost shy look, he added, “yeah... someone like that.”

it was obvious to everyone—sunghoon was completely in love with her.

— MUSIC BANK INTERVIEW

as eunchae smiled at eunhee. “eunhee-ssi, what’s something the fans don’t know about your preparations for this comeback?”

eunhee blushed, laughing softly. “well, i practiced the choreography a lot in my dorm room... sometimes even with a teddy bear as a dance partner."

jungwon’s eyes were fixed on her, entranced by the way her smile lit up the room.

eunchae grinned. “ah, that’s very cute, eunhee-ssi.” she turned to jungwon, “jungwon-ssi, can you please show us a key point of the choreography?”

jungwon blinked, suddenly realizing everyone was staring at him. “ah, oh wait, uh, our choreography has so many fun movements, but one key point is…” he stammered before laughing nervously.

— EUNHEE'S ENDING FAIRY

as eunhee finished her ending fairy moment with a soft smile and playful wink, heeseung couldn’t take his eyes off her. she looked effortlessly cute, and the way she held herself had him completely mesmerized.

seconds passed, but heeseung didn’t even notice. he was still staring, lost in his thoughts about her. then, it suddenly hit him—it was his turn.

startled, his eyes widened as he quickly shifted focus to his camera, throwing on a rushed smile.

— AWARD SHOW

as eunhee stood on stage, she blew a playful kiss to the crowd. in the audience, hanni’s eyes widened in surprise, caught completely off guard by the gesture. she blinked a few times, processing what just happened, before a huge grin spread across her face.

“did she just…?” hanni muttered to herself.

she leaning toward the person next to her, which was minji, “she’s seriously too good at performing.” she whispered, shaking her head with a fond smile.

— SUNOO'S EN-LOG!

sunoo was casually vlogging his "day in the life," chatting away as he sat down for a snack break. he grabbed his phone to check something, but then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he lit up and flipped the screen toward the camera.

"wait, wait, look at this!" he said, tapping on his phone and pulling up a picture of eunhee. "isn’t she so pretty in this photo?"

he stared at the picture for a second, completely smitten, a soft giggle escaping him. "like, seriously… how is someone this pretty?" he added, still showing off the photo.

sunoo smiled to himself before tucking his phone away, casually returning to his snack as if he hadn’t just shown the world how whipped he was for her.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?

Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^

CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)

He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.

She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!” 

König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.

He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.

Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.

Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.

He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.

Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.

“Are you done shopping…?”

Still no answer.

She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight. 

It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.

His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?

“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand. 

Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.

Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine. 

She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her. 

“Here. Give it to me.”

He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.

“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her. 

She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.

“But... Then you’ll know where I live…”

“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.

“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”

“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”

She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease. 

“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.

“Really? I’m a student, too.”

“Oh…? What are you studying?”

“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles.

He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl. 

They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.

What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.

But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home. 

She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.

She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.

“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”

“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”

She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”

He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.

“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there. 

A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm. 

Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?

“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile. 

“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it. 

“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.

“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”

“I… I… Sure.”

…

It’s a catastrophe.

His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...

He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.

The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…

“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”

“At this hour...?”

“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.

His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug. 

Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?

“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”

“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’

She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…

His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears. 

“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.

His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.

“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.

“I always do…”

He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.

There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.

On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.

The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.

The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.

“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.

“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”

The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.

His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed. 

He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into. 

She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.

She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable. 

As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…

“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Remember what you wrote to me?”

“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”

“You told me that you love me.”

Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.

“...Oh God.”

“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”

She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.

“That’s it?” 

“That’s mostly it, yes…”

He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…

His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants. 

How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?

“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.

And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.

“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”

He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.

She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.

“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”

He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along… 

“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”

“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”

Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth. 

That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.

The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.

“The flower...”

The flower... Of course. 

The flower from the rowan tree.

He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.

It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.

“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”

Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love. 

“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”

It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping. 

He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along. 

She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.

“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.

“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.

“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”

He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care. 

“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.

It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.

He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…

“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”

When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.

“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”

I always was….

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to. 

He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks. 

Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.

After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.

He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.

“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.

She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth. 

When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.

“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.

The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.

“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”

“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.

“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm. 

He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly. 

“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves. 

It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?

[hihello-pinky]

Sight (6)

Suna Rintarou x F! Reader

Sometimes, it takes losing someone to finally see them. He wished he knew this before, but Rintaro had to learn this the hard way.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents my views of the original anime/manga characters.

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, explicit smut (unprotected, rough sex) -> lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 6k+

Finally, an update! Thank you for staying with this fic despite my very slow updates. There might be 2-3 parts left before the end; depends on your answer to my question at the end of this chapter! haha (wink, wink)

Kindly reblog, like, and/or leave a comment if you loved this chapter and let me know what you think! xoxo

part one ༘⋆ part two ༘⋆ part three ༘⋆ part four ༘⋆ part five

kofi for tips 💌 ~~

˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚ - - - ˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚

Twenty-five days.

Suna Rintarou swears he isn’t keeping track, but his stupid brain screams the number at him. It’s been twenty-five days of torture - his mind plagued with thoughts of wanting to kiss you.

Kiss you, kiss you, kiss you, kiss you, kiss you.

He’s had the urge in the past but all of those times were out of the haze of sexual intimacy. His current dilemma, which began 25 days ago, is something else.

It had been a mundane Saturday morning. The kids were already up and engrossed in the TV show they both loved so much. Suna was in the kitchen, trying to be of help as you prepared breakfast.

The menu for that day was sunny side-ups paired with hotdogs. You were trying to show him how to perfectly crack eggs open when he moved to stand beside you to look closer. Your hand slipped, spoon cracking against the egg and he laughed. You moved to chastise him and in turn, the egg white from the cracked shell plopped against him.

With widened eyes, you gasped and then, backed with a barely contained giggle, apologized to him. The sound of your laughter was sweet and the way your eyes turned into little crescents tugged at Suna’s heart.

At that moment, he badly wanted to kiss you - to feel your laughter through your lips.

Now, he finds himself at the balcony of your bedroom, eyes turned towards the moonless sky with a lollipop in his mouth. Through the open door, he can hear the faint sound of the shower and he groans, urging his mind to not stray towards other thoughts.

He feels foolish with these emotions that you’re bringing out of him. Granted, they’re not unfamiliar, but it’s been several years since he’s had these feelings. And truth be told, Suna never thought he’d feel this way again: wanting to love someone.

He knows what he’s feeling for you is more than just platonic. But Suna is also pretty sure that he isn’t in love with you.

Yet.

“Rin?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Would you mind closing the door? The breeze is coming through.” He sees that you’re now done with your shower, robe wrapped around your body with a towel in your hand.

He bites off the remaining lollipop and chucks the stick at the small bin by the balcony. Shortly after, he joins you in the room but not before making sure the door is securely locked behind him.

The smell of your green-apple hair conditioner hits him almost immediately. It’s a scent he has ignored for years but now that he’s free from his pride to admire every little thing about you, he basks in the scent. He then makes his way to the vanity. “Do you need help drying your hair off?”

Your curious eyes meet his through the mirror and after a few slow blinks, you nod. He takes over the towel and you open a drawer to bring out the dryer.

For a few moments, your eyes watch him work with the towel, gently squeezing clumps of your hair for the last drops of water possible. Then, before passing the hair-blower to him, you say, “You’re gonna end up with cavities given all the candies and lollipops you’ve been having.”

“They’re working, though,” he replies. “I haven’t smoked in over a month.”

You smile at him. “I’m so proud of you.” And then, as if deciding on what to say next, you add, “I wish there is another alternative so you won’t have to take too much sweets.”

Maybe it’s the proud look on your face. Maybe it’s the way your lips pucker out in a cute pout. Or maybe, he’s just so tired of counting the days.

Finally, Suna says, “What about a kiss?”

The way your eyes immediately widen is almost comical. “W-what?”

Suna only laughs as he takes the hair dryer from you, the brief skin contact making you blush. He shakes his head, smiling. “Nothing.”

“Huh?” you try to turn around so you’re face to face but he places a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay still.”

“But…”

“Y/N. Let’s dry your hair first, okay?”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Drying one’s hair is supposed to take around five to ten minutes only, but after Rintarou’s question, it feels like it’s taking an hour. It’s not helping that he’s standing so close to you, hands gently drying your hair, warmth radiating from his body.

Once finished, you immediately turn on the seat. “Rin.”

“Y/N.”

The question comes to the tip of your tongue but never leaves your mouth. You bite your lip instead and avoid eye contact. “N-nevermind.”

As you try to stand, Rintarou stops you. “You’re cute when you blush, did you know that?”

You don’t answer, knowing full well that his remark only made your already flushing cheeks redden even more.

Suna sighs before cupping your cheek tenderly, urging you to look at him. Once your eyes meet his, he rubs a gentle circle on your skin. “I want to kiss you.”

It feels like your heart is beating a hundred miles per minute. Did you hear him correctly? He wants to kiss you? Suna Rintarou, the man who never kissed you in the five years you’ve been married? Suna Rintarou, the man who didn’t bother to kiss you on your wedding day?

I want to kiss you.

A lot of things have changed in the past months but still, Suna manages to surprise you. You feel like a teenager navigating romance for the first time again.

Another gentle rub on your cheek brings you back to the present, where Suna is saying he wants to kiss you. “Well? Are you going to allow me to kiss you, Y/N?”

Your only response is a meek nod to which Suna shakes his head. “I want you to say it. Tell me that you want me to kiss you.”

He never once breaks eye contact as he says those words. The urge to look away is so strong, for you feel like the longer you stare into Suna’s eyes, all the emotions inside of you will break out. Burst into a bubble that would consume you. It’s going to be cool, but suffocating.

Instead, your eyes remain on him, trying to decipher if there’s any ill-intentions in them.

You only see sincerity… and pained longing. As if every minute you’re not asking him to kiss you is bringing him immense pain.

But kissing him… it’s going to be a big step in your relationship. Granted, the two of you have been sleeping with each other again. But kissing is an entire thing different from sex. You’ve never kissed during sex before. Kissing him now would mean…

Rin doesn’t speak with words, but the way his thumb grazes your cheek once more tells you that he’s waiting. Finally, you decide to pocket the fears you have about kissing him. “Kiss me, Rin.”

He exhales in relief as he leans down and the distance between your lips get smaller and smaller and smaller and you get the sweet taste of his strawberry lollipop from earlier.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Goodbye, 25 days. Suna thinks to himself that night, as you lay sleeping beside him.

It’s just a kiss, but he can’t stop himself from feeling warm at the memory of your lips against his.

It’s just a kiss, but he feels like he’s on top of the world.

It’s just a kiss, but when he finally falls asleep that night, a stupid smile is on his face.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

In the following days, Suna learns that he has found a new addiction.

Waking up in the morning? A kiss on your lips.

Thanking you after finishing a meal? A kiss on your lips.

Saying goodbye before leaving for work? A kiss on your lips.

Seeing you after arriving at home? A kiss on your lips.

It’s not just even the feeling of your lips against his that makes him addicted to it - he’s also enamored by your reaction every time you kiss.

The way your breath hitches a little as your lips meet, and the soft sigh you let out once you part almost always bring a flood of warmth to his chest.

“Are you going out today or staying home for work?” Since you’ve been getting better, you have started to resume working again.

If it were up to Suna, he wouldn’t want you to work at all. Your current job is not demanding at all, minimal reports needed. He remembers helping you get it five years ago, when you had opened up to him about the missed opportunity after your graduation. Still, he knows you enjoy what little you do at work, so he can’t ask you to leave it.

“I’ll stay in today,” he hears your response. “I’ll visit the office on Friday.”

He makes a mental note to himself. “Okay.” And then, “Do we have any plans this weekend?”

He adjusts the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt as he hears you hum in contemplation. “Ah! Hajime invited us for Kenta’s birthday party this coming Saturday, right?”

Of course. Suna remembers the conversation two weeks before. He remembers trying to tame the jealousy brewing deep within him as the older man talked to you. He knows he has nothing to be jealous about. You’re just naturally sweet and friendly while Iwaizumi apparently started seeing someone.

“I almost forgot,” he confesses as he approaches you to where you’re lounging at the sofa. You’re currently waiting for your laptop to finish installing its update before you start work. “Do we have a gift already?”

“I actually ordered something but it’s stuck in one of the sorting hubs. If it doesn’t arrive by Friday, maybe we can drop by the mall or something?”

“Okay. I’ll go now, then. See you later.” He crosses the short distance between you, hand already cupping your face as he kisses you goodbye.

And if Suna is smiling while driving on the way to work, thinking about your goodbye kiss, then no one has to know.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Express delivery, as is turns out, do not always live up to its name. It’s now Friday and the package carrying your gift for Kenta has made no movement from the sorting hub. You’re at your table at work, waiting for Rin to pick you up after you texted him that you would need to drop by the mall first.

The children are at their grandparents since this morning and you’ll be picking them up when you and Rin go to their house for breakfast tomorrow. You look at the picture on your phone. Rintarou is splayed on the bed with the twins all over him. It’s from last weekend, when your kids had come to wake the two of you up.

Your heart is instantly flooded with warmth and joy. You didn’t think it’s going to be possible, but years later, here you are with a happy family despite of the circumstances. You couldn’t ask for more.

The notification on your phone alerts you that Rin is almost at your office building. You bid goodbye to your colleagues. As the door to the elevator begins to close, you see a woman rushing towards it. Luckily, you’re able to press the ‘hold door’ button immediately.

“Thank you,” the woman sighs in relief as she shoots you a grateful, sweet smile. She’s an unfamiliar face, which is not a surprise to you since you rarely visit the office and interact with people outside of your core department.

“No problem,” you reply while mirroring her smile, before turning your gaze ahead.

You’re about to settle on that elevator silence between strangers when the woman speaks. “For a building with over 30 floors, you’d think they have more than three working elevators.”

You hum in agreement. “The ‘under construction’ signs at the other two elevators have been there forever, right?”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t know.” She lets out a small laugh. “I’ve only been here for two weeks. I’m in a contractual project, actually.”

The elevator doors open and you two walk out, still conversing. “Ah, may I ask what project?”

“Hitomi-chan’s passion project,” the woman replies with a smile. “I’m in-charge of photography.”

You feel foolish only noticing the camera bag slung on her left shoulder. “I see. You must be very good, then. Hitomi knows to pick partners well.”

A sweet laughter spills from her again, her cheeks blushing a little. “You’re too kind…”

“Y/N,” you reply, as you both approach the exit.

The woman extends a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. You can call me Serin.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Serin.”

A security staff of the building approaches the two of you. “Your husband’s car just pulled up at the parking area, Mrs. Suna.”

Serin’s grasp on your handshake falters a little. “Oh, you need to go?”

“Yes. See you around the office, Serin.”

She gives you one last smile before waving goodbye. “See you around!”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

You’re only supposed to buy a gift for Kenta but two hours at the mall later, you and Suna are pushing one big cart of shopping carts each. You don’t talk as you navigate the parking space, but the exchange of smiles and grins speaks a lot.

“Why did we buy so much?” You ask as you watch Rin load the bags into the car. “We’re such impulsive buyers, oh god.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad splurging sometimes. We all deserve to spoil ourselves once in a while.”

“Is that why you bought a large fox plushie?” Your voice is laced with teasing. “I didn’t know you’re into stuffed toys.”

Suna loads the last bags before closing the door. “I bought that for you, though.” He takes your hand and leads you to the front passenger seat, opening its door. “And don’t act as if you weren’t looking at it with heart eyes when I showed it to you.”

You make yourself comfortable in the seat. “Sure.”

Suna scoffs playfully before shaking his head as he swats your hand away and puts the belt on you himself. “Okay, you’re never allowed to hold it ever, then.”

You fake gasp. “Really? Then that makes me sad.”

He leans in and kisses against the pout on your lips. “You’re so cute, Y/N,” he says once he pulls away.

“And you’re so silly, Rin.” This time, you’re the one who leans in and pecks his lips. As you’re about to pull away, you feel Suna’s hand on your head before he tries to deepen the kiss.

A small whine leaves your lips and gets swallowed by Suna immediately before he finally pulls away.

“Rin…”

You’re breathing heavily and he’s in no better situation. His eyes have darkened and the way he looks at you makes you squirm on the seat. You avert your gaze. “L-let’s go home.”

It takes him a beat to answer. “Yeah. Okay, sure.” He pulls back, squeezes your upper thigh, and then closes the door for you. You’re still not looking at him when he gets in the driver’s seat and maneuvers the car outside of the parking lot.

Once you’re on the road, one of his hands lets go of the wheel and reaches for you blindly before landing on your thigh. It stays there for a whole minute before you remove it. You lace your fingers together and place it on your lap instead.

Suna hums in contentment as he continues to drive, but not before squeezing your hand. You don’t even notice that he’s driving at the fastest allowable speed limit.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

You’re glad that your children are at your in-laws’ house as you hear the incessant and loud creaking sound of the bed, paired with the headboard’s rhythmic slamming against the wall. Rintarou is groaning against your lips as his hips are working overtime in thrusting against yours.

“Fuck,” he whispers before capturing your lips in another frenzied kiss. “You feel so damn good, shit.” He’s heavily breathing and making lots of noise than usual.

You would have called him out for it if you were doing any better. “Ah, Rin, ah… right there.” Your words are cut off as he kisses you again.

Tonight’s sex feels different. It’s not only because it’s the first time you two are kissing during the deed. Right now, it feels as if Rintarou wants to tell you something through his actions.

His unforgiving thrusts continue, the onslaught of pleasure throughout your body unending. You already know you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to be less rough. He’s hitting all the right spots and all the sounds that you’re both making are only adding heat to the room.

“It feels like your pussy wants to swallow me whole.” He pulls back slightly so he can see the probably messed up and fucked out expression on your face. “I love the way it pulls me in. Fuck, you’re so tight. Feels so fucking good!”

His words bring you to an unexpected orgasm and you whine with volume. It doesn’t deter him as he continues his hips’ movements. His lips are quick to silence you as he begins to move inside of you faster.

You should probably feel embarrassed with the sloppy, wet noises that your bodies are creating but it just feels so good. Your head is empty and all your mind can do is chant his name repeatedly.

Rintarou. Rin. Rintarou. Rin. Rin. Rintarou. So good.

“Louder,” his word snaps you out of your daze. It’s when you realize that you’re now moaning his name out loud. Ironically, you feel flustered and look away from him.

His hand starts roaming around your body and settles on your left breast before he pinches on the nipple. “Look at me, I want to see you come.”

He guides your face towards him and you two meet eye-to-eye. The room feels too hot but you ignore it, trapped in your bubble of intimacy with your husband. You’re stuck with letting out little whimpers and small exclaims of “ah, ah, ah”s as Rintarou continues to move inside you.

Unlike his earlier kisses, he plants a sweet peck on the side of your lips before pulling back. “Do you feel good? Are you okay?” His voice is now soft, a stark contrast to his rough thrusts.

You can only nod before a gasp of pleasure leaves you again.

He chuckles against your lips before aiming a single hard thrust, forcing a louder moan out of you. “Am I making you feel good, Y/N?”

You nod repeatedly, hands gripping him harder. The dig of your fingers on his skin makes him groan sexily. “Fuck, answer me. Do I feel good inside you, wife?” Another well-aimed thrust.

“Y-yes, yes!” you finally let out. A sniffle. “It’s so good. More please, Rin. I need more.”

Rintarou doesn’t deny you and quickens his pace, giving you what you want.

And everything feels right. This is what things should have been. The both of you giving and taking. The both of you feeling good and taken care of. You and Rintarou. Rintarou and you. Under a happy spell.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

The last time you were at a party setting with Hajime, things didn’t end well. However, you feel like today is a good one. For starters, you don’t have the underlying pressure of making sure everything goes smoothly. And to make things better, your husband has not left your side ever since your family arrived at the venue.

Risa and Ryuu are happily playing with all the other kids while you’re at the parents’ table, making small talk with the other guests. An older couple - Hajime’s relatives, you think - comments on how you and Rin look good together.

You thank them, turning to your husband’s shoulder to hide your blush. Instead, you see him smirk teasingly, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

The party goes well. Food, games, gift-giving…

Hajime finally sits next to you with a small sigh, the two of you barely exchanging more than a few words within the past hour. “This is tiring but very rewarding.” He’s staring at the direction of his son. “All for Kenta’s happiness.”

As if feeling his father’s eyes on him, the boy turns to your direction and waves, a toothy grin on his face.

“You know, in his earlier years, I only felt resentment towards his mother.” Hajime’s voice is tender. He rarely talks about the mother of his son, her being a touchy subject. “But now, all I feel is gratefulness and pity. I’m thankful because without her, I wouldn’t have Kenta. I pity her, because she’s missing out so much on how wonderful and amazing my son is.”

You can’t say you truly understand what he’s feeling. Still, you acknowledge to yourself that your children do seem to be merrier ever since Rintarou joined the three of you, bonding all the time. “Did she ever try to reach out?”

Hajime shakes his head. “No. And my attempts to talk to her were all futile.” The sad look on his face passes quickly. “You know, Y/N, I never considered dating again. Not until Kenta’s much older. But I’m glad I took the leap recently. She already adores Kenta and he likes her a lot, too.”

You perk up at the mention of his new lover. “I’m glad to hear that. Speaking of, I thought she was coming today?”

“She said she’ll catch up because something came up with the project she’s working on.” Just then, a notification pings on Hajime’s phone. “And now we’ve summoned her. I’ll go meet her at the door.”

You watch as your friend eagerly makes his way through the crowd. It’s then that you decide to go on a powder room break to freshen up. On the way, you bump into your husband who’s returning from the restroom. He tucks a hair behind your ear. “You good?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yes.” It’s crazy, really, how a simple gesture from Rintarou makes your heart flood with happiness.

He mirrors your smile, a bit of mischief laced in it. Rin leans closer to you and asks, “You’re not too sore anymore?”

Blood rushes to your face and you swat at him. “Please, don’t.”

Through his arms around your side, you feel his body shake in laughter. “Okay, okay. Don’t be a blushing mess. We’re in public, Y/N.” He pulls you closer to him and plants a quick kiss on your temple. “Let’s behave from now on.”

You murmur chastising words as events from last night come back to you.

Suna had just forced you to finish drinking a glass of water, mumbling something about you needing to re-hydrate. You’re already washed up, dressed in a pair of fluffy cotton pajamas.

“Good girl,” he murmured before placing the empty glass on the bedside table. He then propped himself up against the headboard, making sure the blankets are covering you.

The praise made you smile like a shy young girl and Rin opened his arm. You didn’t allow yourself a moment of hesitation, immediately going towards his warmth. He squeezed the side of your waist as you snuggled against him.

The post-sex bliss was still surrounding you both. “What are you thinking?”

The sound of his heartbeat was calming, and you didn’t realize it had been slowly lulling you to sleep until Rin repeated his question. It’s been happening a lot lately - him initiating conversation, wanting the two of you to build good communication.

Maybe it’s the domesticity of snuggling in bed with your husband, or the way his hand had traveled upwards to where it’s rubbing softly against your back. You weren’t exactly sure what spurred you to answer candidly. “I’m thinking that I really like you, Rin. A lot. But I guess you already knew that.”

He hummed in confirmation. You weren’t expecting anything back, you knew it’s only been a few months. But much like he’s been doing, Rintarou surprises you. “I’m thinking I’m starting to care about you. A lot. Though it may take me a lot more moments of introspection for me to truly know what I feel. But, really, Y/N, I care about you and I want you to know it, in case I haven’t been clear.”

The hesitation in his voice almost made you melt. He didn’t need to say it, to be honest. You’ve noticed it in all the ways he had been changing in the past several weeks. Trying to quit smoking, spending more time with you and your kids. Opening more communication between you two.

Still, the verbal affirmation is welcomed.

“Thank you, Rin,” you murmured sleepily against him. “For all your efforts.”

You vaguely heard him whisper the words back to you before you drifted off to sleep.

You pull back from hiding your face against your husband’s body and crane your head back. He inspects your face briefly before saying, “All good, you no longer look like a ripe tomato.”

You fake glare at him and remember where you two are. You look around and see Hajime introducing someone to his guests. Beside you, Rintarou pulls out his phone after it pings. He begins typing his reply with one hand, the other reaching for yours.

One of the things you have learned about your husband in the past months is that he can be clingy. You grasp his hand and intertwine your fingers together.

As Hajime approaches you with his new guest, your eyes widen. “Serin?”

Two distinct sounds reach your ear.

Serin’s gasp.

And the sound of a phone crashing on the floor.

Rintarou lets go of your hand as he bends down to pick his phone up.

“Y/N? What a lovely surprise. You’re friends with Hajime?” Serin is quick to give you a hug. “Such a small world!”

You smile at her and then your at friend. “This is… wow.” You turn to Rintarou who’s now back on his feet. You reach for his hand back but he puts both his hands inside his pockets.

The look on his face tells you that his phone must have experienced serious damage.

“Serin, this is my husband, Rintarou. Rin, I met Serin at work yesterday, I didn’t know she’s the girlfriend that Hajime has been talking about. This is a nice coincidence! Don’t you think so?”

The woman blinks slowly before she smiles slightly at your husband. “Nice to meet you.”

To your surprise, Rintarou ignores her extended hand. Instead, he gives her a curt nod before promptly excusing himself outside.

You mask your concern and turn apologetically to Serin and Hajime. “Um, I’m sorry about that. Maybe he’s upset about his phone.”

Serin purses her lips in a small pout. “No worries, Y/N. Let’s talk again later, I want to go to the birthday boy now.” She shoots you a dazzling smile before dragging Hajime by the hand towards Kenta’s direction.

You sigh. As much as you’re delighted that Hajime’s girlfriend is the same nice woman you met yesterday, you can’t help but worry about Rintarou.

After a quick glance at your kids who are engrossed playing with their friends, you follow your husband outside.

Rintarou is restlessly pacing back and forth and though you’re not that physically close, you can see his brows knotted in worry.

“Rin?” He pauses at your voice and looks at you with slightly wide eyes. He doesn’t offer any words.

“Are you okay?”

He blinks a few times. “Yeah.” And then, “Just needed space to breathe.”

There’s a moment of hesitation - as if he wants to say more but decides against it. He resumes his pacing and you quietly slip back inside.

The rest of the party goes relatively well and you’re glad that you’re able to spend time and converse with the other parents from the playground. Moreover, the happy giggles and wide smiles of your children filled your heart with love.

Soon enough, Rin’s earlier actions get pushed to the back of your mind.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

It wasn’t particularly a long day but as soon as you got Risa and Ryuu to fall asleep, your body starts demanding you to rest.

You barely make it through showering. Once you’re done for the night, you move to settle on your shared bed with Rintarou to see him all quiet. He’s sitting on the bed, leg impatiently tapping on the floor.

“Rin, what’s the matter?”

He looks up, your eyes meeting briefly before he turns away. “Nothing.”

In the past, you would have let it go, afraid that you’d push the wrong buttons to set him off against you. But now, given how things have changed between the two of you, you want to talk.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left Kenta’s party. Is something bothering you?”

It takes Rintarou a very long time to respond. When he does, it makes you think you may have misheard him.

“Sorry? What did you say?” You ask, your voice gentle despite the tremors and dread building inside you.

His response comes again, louder and clearer this time. “You.”

“Rin?”

He looks you in the eye this time as he stands up. It’s only then that you noticed he hasn’t changed out of his clothes yet. “You. The one that’s bothering me.”

You shake your head as you begin to step closer to him. “I don’t understand.”

Rintarou scoffs. “Of course you don’t.” He swats away the hand that tries to touch him and it leaves you freeze in surprise.

He then makes his way towards the balcony. And you’re still standing there, left alone in the room, dumbfounded and confused.

Oddly enough, this feels like a deja vu.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

At the beginning of your forced marriage to Suna, you knew there was a slim chance that you two would get along. He hated you, and deep down, though you never voiced it out loud, you also resented him for taking advantage of you and getting you pregnant.

But now, looking back at the past few months, you think that your relationship might actually work. He’s no longer treating you horribly. In fact, he’d been extremely nice, getting involved in preparing for your kids’ arrival, being supportive and caring, and overall acting friendly.

For this night, you decided to cook him a simple dinner. He had texted you earlier in the day that he’d drop by Osamu’s newly-opened restaurant to give his congratulations. You had told him it’s okay if he wanted to celebrate with his friends but Rintarou insisted that he’d much rather spend the evening with you.

You knew not to get your hopes up, that he’s just being a responsible father and husband. Still, your traitorous heart beat wildly at his last message, looking forward to seeing him come home.

Four hours later, however, the dinner you prepared is cold and you’re seated alone at the living room couch. Waiting for Rintarou who never came home at the time he promised.

Your eyes were drooping, drowsiness almost winning the long battle you’ve been having against it. Finally, the door opened and Rintarou came in.

He looked utterly wasted.

You stood up in the fastest way possible for a heavily-pregnant person. “Rin, what happened? You weren’t answering my texts and calls. I was so worried.”

He looked up from tossing his shoes to the side. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed, probably from drinking. “Fuck off.”

The words surprised you, the venom in them strong enough to make you take a step back. You were able to regain your stance nonetheless and moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Huh? Are you okay, Rin?”

“Don’t call me that.” He glared at you before swatting your hand away. “You ruined everything. Everything.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “What? Rin, I’m confused. What happened?”

He didn’t answer you and instead began walking towards the stairs. You were hurt and confused but you didn’t want the night to end with him ignoring you.

Being pregnant, it took you longer to arrive at your now shared room. When you opened the door, you saw that it was already a mess. Broken things everywhere, confirming your suspicions from the sounds you heard on the way to the room.

“Rintarou, stop!” You tried to tell him but he whipped so fast to face you that your feet froze on the spot. “Leave me the fuck alone! You ruined my life, my everything!”

You remained unmoving, fists clenched at the sides. “I don’t understand. Can you calm down, please?”

He grabbed an ornamental vase that you had placed on the dresser and threw it on the floor.

You stared at the flowers from your garden. Lying, broken, and mangled. “Rin, I’m getting scared. Please, let’s talk about what’s wrong?”

“You,” he finally responded. “You’re the most wrong thing in my life.”

His words felt like dagger to your heart. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Things have been going well…

“I hate your existence in my life. I hate this. I hate that I had to marry you. I hate that you’re pregnant. I hate-”

“Please don’t say that,” you begged, tears flowing down your face. “Don’t.”

Rintarou laughed emptily. It pained you to see how angry and sad he looked like. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To talk about what’s wrong? It’s you. So here’s what’s going to happen: since you’re adamant about keeping the babies, then fine, go ahead.

“But I want you to know that this marriage will only be words on a paper. Do not expect anything from me. I will never be your husband. I will never be your friend. You will never mean anything to me. I will never love you. Understood?”

You could barely see him through the stream of your tears. You wished this was just a bad dream and that you’d wake up soon.

“Answer me!” Rintarou yelled. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

He kicked at the broken vase by his foot. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

The memory claws at your heart and you clutch at your chest. It seems like everything from the past is repeating but this time, the pain is multiplied ten-fold.

You can’t help but ask yourself as you stare at the fox plushie on your hands.

What really happened?

Can you really not be happy with Rintarou?

You lift a hand to wipe at your eyes. The other loses its grip on the toy and it drops onto the floor. You wipe your tears one more time before leaning over the bed to reach for it. It bounces against your strained grip, going further out of your reach.

It seems like the fox plush is mocking you.

You tiredly go down the bed to pick it up. However, once it’s back in your hands, you decide to just lean your back against the bed’s side instead of climbing back onto the bed.

You haven’t felt this tired in a long time. Not even during your recent fight with Rintarou months ago.

You close your eyes to fight off the tears that have resurfaced, tears that never really stopped forming in your eyes. To your dismay, you’re unable to ward them off, so you’re left crying, tears escaping your closed eyes.

And as you succumb to the darkness brought by your closed lids, you wish for the pain to be gone the moment you open your eyes.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Outside, Suna shuts the balcony door behind him before he leans against the railing. He can hear the faint sounds of your crying but wills himself to ignore them.

Instead, he stares ahead at nothing, hoping something can drown out your sounds of sorrow. He curses under his breath until he reaches into his pocket, hand clenching tightly on the item.

Not long after, with the backdrop of the dark sky devoid of moon and any stars, the tip of a lit cigarette burns bright like a blaze.

to be continued.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

I hope you liked this update hehehe. Question! Do we resolve things quickly or go down the hard path (and curse Suna along the way?) LET ME KNOW!

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added or if you changed your user): @warrior-of-justice @alisa--things @wolffmaiden @kurookinnie @simp-nerd-16  @alex-is-100 @k4g3hika @harukaaaaa172993 @themoonreflectsthesun  @lvjycrow @cantbedenied @sweetlikerockcandy @sirimiripetrichor @yamiakari-chi  @noideawhothatis @nervouscoffeetaco @lovemyfamily4ever-blog nervouscoffeetaco  kamukayakmonyet  yuqixidle ieathairs  cantbedenied  gariben  beomeomgyu  esmeisdrunk-blog  123j456l  iluv-ace  semitje @justablogforreblogs @alienvarmint @itohsi @tamimemo @mshope16 @jeonsfizz @syndyj @susuarin @ssc7514 @tkooooop @lialoveskaisersomuch @dilucsleftshoelace @bakingcuriosity @appepel @arusio

[tlouwhore]

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand, prt.2 — farmhouse e.w.

notes: basically just smut, 18+, pet names (mama, baby,  babe, love), eating out, switch!ellie, soft, praise, strap on, slow/romantic sex, farmhouse!ellie who is so in love with you, very loosely inspired by no plan by hozier, ive never written smut so...also guys i need to lock in for finals but all i can think about it having sex with ellie

part 1

ellies tattooed hand snakes to find a spot on your hip, squeezing lightly against it prompting a soft hitch to your breath giving her ample opportunity to slip her tongue delicately into your warm mouth. finding comfort in your sweet breath as the kiss continued in a slow yet sloppy manner.

“els…i need you” your lips mere inches from hers, foreheads pressed against each other. breath tangled and exchanged in the hastily darkening air as she gazes at you with a loving hunger in her eyes, familiar and beautiful. 

“i know, babe” she whispered as if scared that if she spoke too loud you would disappear from her desperate grasp, her hand quickly seeking to tangle back into yours. her palms slightly sweaty as she now  gently drags you into the house. opting for the couch merely feet from the door as you lightly push her onto it and crawl into her lap quickly finding your lips to hers like magnets. as the kiss deepens and morphs you can feel her hasten quickly signaling she wants exactly what you do, it's your turn to chuckle at her quickened hunger as you feel her shift uncomfortably knowing her ever-growing wet spot threatens to seep through her boxers.  you tug lightly at the hem of her loose shirt, lightly brushing the pads of your fingers over her stomach, familiar and soft despite it all. she hesitantly breaks the kiss to drag her shirt off, her breasts exposed upon removal. every time you see them your gaze falls to them in admiration as if the mona lisa is engraved into her, taking her in as if she were to dissolve if you blinked. 

admiring the beauty of her soft and supple breasts, slowly grazing your tongue over her erect nipple cascading the effects of a euphonious whimper to escape her lips; the pure love felt to her in that moment unmatched, all your worries washed away as your priorities were on her breasts. her pleasure. her body. her freckled chest adored with scars. her. 

she whines your name desperately as she looks to find an anchor on your body. showing love to her exposed upper body, your lips laying claim to her sun damaged shoulders and collar. your hands slowly dragging across her exposed arms, over her scars and chemical burn, planting an individual kiss to each nail before attending to her lower body. 

loosely slipping onto a seated ground position, the rough carpet welcoming your planted knees as you spread her legs. instantly leaving her to fumble with her button to unclasp it as you offer aid in removing her remaining clothes until her body is displayed to you. 

"can i?" a soft smile tugs at your lips watching her admiration for your beauty grow

"if you take off something first" she laughs slightly when saying it but quickly flicks her full attention to your unclothed chest, your bra the only clinging item to your upper body. 

"better?" your smile illuminates your features, you've never looked more beautiful to her than when you smile. each moment that passes she loves you more than the world, looking to you as a beacon in the darkness.

"yes." as her words left her mouth in her sweetened tone soaked with love you began to trail your way up her thighs with your lips. leaving gentle whispers of love against her skin. her throat emanating your name in whispers like a prayer as you approach her leaking pussy, her clit puffy with arousal as she seeks friction from the air. 

gently licking against her clit as her desperate attempt to stifle a moan fails, her body releasing a guttural sound as you continue to work slowly and starved. her saccharine slick leaking onto your face, coating your soft tongue and blushed skin. you push her leg further up, her knees nearing her chest as you continue to deepen your devotion. she's needy and whining under your tender lips and tongue, continuing to make contact with her dripping cunt. a wet spot forming largely on the familiar couch cushion below, her eyes hooded in lust. desperately trying to keep her eyes locked to your gaze and delicate worship of the flattening of your tongue, engulfing her  clit with the texture drag it before laying tapered circles to it. her whimpers and moans fast and needy, head dazed in pleasure. slowly dragging your finger to meet her clenching hole, dipping a single finger gently in. she coils forward slightly before thrashing back to the couch, muttering swears like a mantra that is half lost by her groans. 

"fuck baby, just like that" is all she can push past her lips, mouth agape as her breath floods out in tangent with her quickening heart. her voice is diluted in pleasure and as messy as her cunt. slowly implementing an additional finger as she leaks out onto your hand causing another fit of swears, a new wave of pleasure seizing through her body. slowly dragging your fingers in and out in tandem with your heatened breath against her delicate clit, your tongue searching the terrain. her high quickly approaching as you feel her tense around you, her reactions more visceral as you help her come undone. a clench around your fingers as you continue gently through her high, her hands gripping at whatever she can grasp stars falling into her eyes. her gaze meeting your face as you remove your fingers from her needy cunt, admiring the soft moons gentle touch to you coated in her slick. taking your wet fingers and softly dipping them into your mouth, releasing the nectar into your mouth like a sacred sip of the lord's wine. 

"m'god mama...." her voice hushed in a sacred high "so fucking beautiful, let me take care of you please" eyes glinting in a desire of her deepest devotions. a smile painting your moist face as you reply 

"please," is the only hushed praise that can exit your lips as you stand, her hands seeking a perfect opportunity to drag your bottoms down your plush thighs. kicking them off as they hit your feet to aid her as she stands to join you, unclasping the metal hook on the back of your bra laying kisses down your exposed shoulders and neck. 

"stay here for me" her breath hits your warm skin

"anything" her nude form trailing out of the room momentarily, the moon and stars kissing her body. her return was swift, her silicone cock hanging from her shifting hips as you greedily walked to meet her.

"needy, aren't you?" she playfully smiles meeting your tender lips in a slow kiss, pushing your body back to the couch.

"lay down for me, baby" her lips still mere inches from yours, refusing to let her touch leave you for too long. you abide by her devout comment. knees slightly bent as you lay supine, dripping cunt displayed like a portrait in the lourve. she kneels against the unclothed altar of your hips, brushing the silicone tip against you looking to you for permission. 

"i'm ready, els" you reach your hand to find hers, quickly finding her hand laced in yours gently placing your enclosed hands to the couch cushion beside your head. her free hand delicately aligning with your needy body, slowly pushing in an inch as she searches your beautiful face for any sign of pain. you meet her with a squeeze to her hand and a nod, encouraging her to push her length deeper. she cautiously bottoms out in you as you meet her with a moan.

"oh my god..." is all that you can push out, her body still giving you time to adjust to her before lovingly fucking into your cunt, her eyes stuck to yours. she can't help but admire your flushed face, the pleasured details relaying across your ever so perfect form. 

"so good for me" soft praises leaving her lips as she continues to push into you, a religious message in the swift breath of her love. her free hand trailing your whole body, unable to soak you in enough before she meets her calloused fingers to your sensitive clit. the pads of her fingers laying claim to your needy bundle of nerves, slow circular swoops creating a perfect storm of pleasure. desperate whines escaping your lips, breathing hitching whenever you meet her deepened gaze. unable to peel her eyes from the warmth of your emanating face. her hands working as skillfully as her hips, pushing in deep and soft, hitting every part of your soft walls combining with the fervor of her diligent hands. 

"taking me so well, mama" painting landscapes on your puffed in pleasure clit, your body a beautiful art piece to her mere existence. eyes tracing the curvature of your body, groans escaping her lips as the base of the strap hits her clit. your sweet whispers of lust egging on her movement, unable to define the truth of her devouring love for you. you clench against her and release a rasping moan.

"m gonna cum, els" broken whispers interrupted by the sharp pleasure in your core.

"cum for me, baby. cum all over my dick for me" she rasps as her hips reaching deeper, your angelic form consuming her in entirety. your orgasm encroaching deeply, her eyes fixed to yours as they threaten to roll back in pleasure. 

"come on mama, you can do it" a creamy white accumulation of your slick coating the base of her silicone cock as she works you through your orgasm. 

"i've got you, just a little more" she coaxes as she slows, gently pulling herself from your tender cunt and unlacing your fingers from hers. a slight whimper erupting at the emptiness of contact. your eyes hooded with a tired love, a half smile sloppily draped on your lips admiration consuming your observations of her diligent hands pulling off the harness. 

"everything good, love?" 

"s'good" your smile growing slightly as you push yourself to sit up

"lets go get ourselves cleaned up, mama." she chuckles at your pleasured expression replacing her hand in yours, you instantly locking onto her. making your way to the bedroom, your body slightly leaned to hers. linked forms finding the dresser, shuffling through the cloth as she searches for a soft outfit for you. her hands fastidiously helping your silk body with the clothing, pulling the waistband up and adjusting your out of place hair. quickly trailing to the bathroom grabbing a wet cloth to wipe your face, a residue of her sweet slick lightly adorning your chin and lips. 

"els...what about the mess we made?"

"i'll worry about that, beautiful. I need to be with you now, the couch can wait." slowly slipping on a loose shirt and lightly pushing you by the small of your back to the bed, the soft duvet opening its arms for you. her body slowly following, pulling you flush to her as she leaves gentle kisses across your sleep-ridden face.