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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

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ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ/ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ-ɪꜱʜ ||

6776 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄɪᴇꜱ, ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ

JAYCE

The Academy halls hummed with quiet energy, the rhythmic murmur of voices mingling with the distant hum of machinery and the occasional metallic clink of tools. Y/N moved purposefully through the corridors, her arms cradling an eclectic collection of blueprints, sketches, and notes. The crisp parchment edges tickled her fingers, and the faint scent of ink and graphite followed her like a familiar companion. As she passed by bustling classrooms and open workspaces, a few students glanced her way, their expressions a mix of awe and curiosity—Y/N Talis, wife of Jayce Talis, the formidable engineer and brilliant mind in her own right, always left an impression.

She turned the final corner leading to Jayce's lab, her heels clicking against the polished floors with a measured precision. Through the large glass window of the door, she spotted him instantly. Jayce’s broad shoulders were hunched slightly as he leaned over his workstation, gesturing animatedly with a spanner in hand. His deep, confident voice carried faintly through the barrier, underscored by his natural charisma. Opposite him stood a young woman, her bright eyes locked on him as though he were the sun, her posture leaning just enough to blur the line between attentive and overly familiar.

The girl’s hand rested lightly on Jayce’s arm, her laughter too airy, her smile too wide. Y/N’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. She recognised the type—the overeager assistant or ambitious student hoping for a little more than professional mentorship. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone vying for Jayce’s attention, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. But jealousy wasn’t in her nature, not when she trusted Jayce with everything she had. Instead, she found the situation mildly amusing, like watching a play unfold where the ending was already written.

Shifting the weight of the documents in her arms, Y/N stepped forward, nudging the door open with her hip. The quiet creak of the hinges was enough to break the conversation inside.

“Jayce,” she called, her voice smooth and warm, yet with an undeniable edge of authority that filled the space effortlessly.

Jayce’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, his expression shifting from focused concentration to unabashed delight. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up like a man seeing the love of his life walk into the room—which, of course, she was. “Perfect timing. I was just talking about the diagrams you’re carrying.”

The young woman stiffened slightly, her hand withdrawing from Jayce’s arm as though burned. Her eyes flickered to Y/N, quickly assessing her presence. Y/N stepped into the lab fully, her movements confident and unhurried, and placed the stack of blueprints and notes onto the table nearest Jayce. She dusted off her hands and turned towards him, her lips curving into a soft, genuine smile.

“Got everything you asked for,” she said casually, though there was an unmistakable tenderness in her tone. Without hesitation, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a deliberate kiss to his lips, her hand brushing his jawline gently.

Jayce responded instantly, his free hand instinctively finding the small of her back. The kiss was brief but unmissable, a silent declaration to anyone watching that Y/N was his and he was hers. When they parted, Jayce’s eyes lingered on her face, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “You’re a lifesaver, love,” he murmured, his tone dripping with affection.

Y/N’s gaze shifted to the girl, who now stood awkwardly by the workstation, her posture tense, her smile faltering. “And who’s this?” Y/N asked, her tone polite but laced with an unspoken firmness that immediately established her dominance in the room. “Do you need something?”

The girl blinked, visibly caught off guard. “Oh, um,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. “I was just... asking Mr Talis about some technical details for my project.”

Jayce nodded, his hand still resting on Y/N’s back as he explained. “She’s working on a research proposal,” he said, his tone easy but entirely professional. “Needed a bit of advice.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining kind but unwavering. “Well, you’ve come to the right person,” she said with a faint smile, her eyes locking with the girl’s. “Jayce is brilliant at this sort of thing. He loves helping others.”

Her words were friendly enough, but the subtle shift in her posture—standing closer to Jayce, her hand lightly brushing his arm—spoke volumes. She wasn’t just Jayce’s partner in work; she was his partner in life, and she had no intention of letting anyone forget that.

The girl’s smile grew increasingly strained. She quickly began gathering her notes, her movements rushed and clumsy. “Right... Well, thank you for your time, Mr Talis,” she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than before. “I’ll, um, follow up later if I have more questions.” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting between the couple, before practically fleeing the lab. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing faintly in the now-quiet room.

Jayce let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he turned to Y/N. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, his tone filled with admiration.

Y/N shrugged, leaning into his side with a sly smile. “I trust you,” she said simply. “But if someone’s getting touchy, I’m not going to let them think they have a chance.”

He grinned, his hand moving to cup her cheek as he looked down at her. “Good. Because I’m yours and only yours.”

“Damn right you are,” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She nudged him playfully before turning back to the stack of blueprints. Unrolling one of them, she scanned the intricate diagrams, her brows furrowing slightly. “Now, let’s get back to work. I don’t have time to fend off your fan club all day.”

Jayce laughed, the rich sound filling the lab. “Deal. But for the record, you’re the only admirer I care about.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. She reached out, brushing her fingers against his. “Good answer,” she murmured with a smirk before refocusing on the blueprint in her hands.

As they settled into their work, the earlier interruption faded into the background, replaced by the quiet, easy rhythm of their partnership. The hum of the lab surrounded them, but nothing could compare to the unspoken understanding and love that passed between them with every shared glance and touch. Together, they were unstoppable.

VIKTOR

The bustling streets of Piltover's marketplace were alive with chatter, laughter, and the vibrant colours of countless stalls. Merchants called out to passers-by, enticing them with promises of rare spices, glittering trinkets, and the finest textiles in the city. Children darted between legs, their laughter ringing out like bells, while the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted chestnuts wafted through the crisp afternoon air.

Y/N walked beside Viktor, her hand brushing his every so often as they strolled. Her humming was soft, barely audible over the noise of the market, but it was enough for Viktor to catch the tune. He smiled to himself, matching his steps with hers as best he could, his cane tapping lightly against the cobblestones with every measured step.

Viktor didn’t often venture into the crowded streets of Piltover. The chaotic energy of the marketplace wasn’t exactly his domain—he preferred the quiet order of his lab. But with Y/N beside him, her boundless curiosity and infectious excitement made the marketplace feel almost magical.

As they wandered further into the maze of stalls, Y/N’s attention flitted from one display to the next. A vendor showcasing intricately carved wooden figurines caught her eye, then another selling jars of honey so golden they seemed to glow in the sunlight. Without even realising it, she drifted a few steps ahead, her gaze fixed on a stall overflowing with brightly coloured fabrics.

Viktor paused, noticing her absence. He turned his head, searching the crowd until he caught a glimpse of her dark hair weaving through the throng. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he watched her. “Always in her own world,” he murmured, shaking his head affectionately before beginning his careful pursuit.

Y/N, meanwhile, had been drawn to a flower vendor’s stall. The display was stunning—a riot of colours spilling out from buckets and vases, the petals dewy and fragrant. She leaned in to inhale the scent of a bouquet of violets, their delicate purple hues catching the light. The scent was intoxicating, a sweet reminder of open fields and quiet meadows.

“You’ve got a good eye for beauty,” a voice interrupted her reverie. Y/N straightened and turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing beside her, his grin as self-assured as his tone. He gestured toward the violets she’d been admiring. “But they’ve got nothing on you.”

Y/N blinked, caught slightly off guard, but her expression quickly shifted into one of polite friendliness. “Thank you,” she said, her tone light and neutral. “I was just admiring the flowers.”

The man stepped closer, clearly emboldened. “Maybe I could buy you a bouquet? What’s your favourite? Roses? Daffodils?”

Y/N shook her head gently, trying not to sound curt. “That’s kind of you, but I’m just browsing.”

The man didn’t take the hint. “Oh, come on. A pretty woman like you deserves to be spoiled.” His grin widened, his tone oozing smug confidence, as if he were certain she’d melt under his charm.

Before Y/N could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Am I interrupting something?”

She turned to see Viktor standing a few paces away, his golden eyes sharp despite the calm expression on his face. He leaned slightly on his cane, his posture steady and self-assured despite his evident limp.

The stranger frowned, his gaze flicking dismissively over Viktor’s figure, lingering on the brace on his leg and the cane in his hand. “No offence, mate,” the man said, his tone dripping with condescension, “but this doesn’t concern you. Why don’t you hobble off and leave the lady to someone who can actually keep up with her?”

Y/N’s polite smile vanished instantly, replaced by a glare that could have frozen the sun. Before she could speak, Viktor stepped closer, his cane clicking against the stones as he approached.

His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and in that glance, they shared an unspoken understanding—a silent agreement that this man wasn’t worth their time.

Viktor turned his attention back to the stranger, his expression calm but resolute. “I would suggest you leave my wife alone,” he said, his tone measured but carrying a quiet authority that demanded respect.

The stranger blinked, momentarily stunned. “Your wife?” he repeated, disbelief written all over his face.

Viktor didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a few coins, and handed them to the flower vendor. He carefully selected a bouquet of violets—the same ones Y/N had been admiring—and held them out to her, his smile softening.

“For you, moje krásná paní manželka,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with a playful emphasis on the words. (My pretty lady wife)

Y/N’s expression melted into one of pure affection. She took the flowers from him, her smile radiant as she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured, her voice sweet enough to make the stranger’s ears burn.

Viktor offered the man one final glance—polite but firm. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere important to be.”

Without waiting for a response, he extended his free hand to Y/N, who slipped her fingers through his without hesitation. Together, they turned and walked away, leaving the flustered man standing speechless by the flower stall.

As they rejoined the flow of the marketplace, Y/N gave Viktor’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice soft but touched with gratitude.

Viktor chuckled, a quiet sound that rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Perhaps not,” he replied, his tone teasing. “But I couldn’t let him think he had a chance, could I?”

She laughed, the sound bright and warm as the sun overhead. “My hero,” she said, her smile playful but her eyes shining with sincerity.

Viktor glanced down at her, his golden eyes brimming with affection. “And you,” he said softly, “are worth every flower in Piltover.”

JAYVIK

The grand hall of the gala glittered with opulence, the lights bouncing off the crystalline chandeliers and polished marble floors. A soft murmur of chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses filled the space. Y/N stood off to the side with Viktor, her arm looped casually through his. The pair, along with Mel Medarda, were engaged in polite conversation about recent developments in Piltover politics, though the conversation flowed easily to lighter subjects, like the evening’s extravagant décor.

As Mel’s laughter tapered off, her dark eyes drifted past Y/N and Viktor, honing in on a familiar figure across the room. She smirked knowingly and tilted her glass towards the scene. “Your Jayce appears to be quite the centre of attention tonight.”

Y/N and Viktor turned their heads in unison, their gazes falling on Jayce. The tall inventor stood amidst a small group of men and women, all hanging onto his every word. His confidence was magnetic, and it was clear he was enjoying himself, though the crowd seemed just a bit too interested. Hands brushed his arm, fingers lingered on his shoulder, and laughter bubbled up too freely from his admirers.

Viktor hummed, his lips twitching in mild annoyance. “Like moths to a flame,” he remarked dryly, leaning more heavily on his cane.

Y/N sighed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Honestly, they’re practically swarming him,” she muttered. She took a sip of her champagne, her grip on the glass tightening. “Do they not see the ring on his finger?”

“Do they care?” Viktor countered, raising a brow. He exchanged a glance with Y/N, both of them clearly on the same page. Jayce might be their husband, but that didn’t mean they were above feeling a twinge of jealousy at the scene before them.

Mel chuckled, an elegant, knowing sound that drew their attention back to her. “Now, now,” she teased, “don’t do anything rash. You’ll only make it more amusing for them.” Her sharp eyes gleamed with mischief as she took a slow sip from her glass. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to start a scene, would we?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Rash? Us? Never,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N let out a quiet laugh but folded her arms across her chest, unable to entirely suppress the spark of annoyance. “Maybe I should go remind him that he’s the one who’s supposed to stay by our sides, not entertain every vulture that flutters by.”

“Oh, but you’re far more captivating when you let him sweat a little,” Mel pointed out with a sly grin. “He’s a smart man—he’ll realise soon enough.”

As if sensing their gazes, Jayce glanced over, his broad smile faltering slightly when he caught the looks Y/N and Viktor were sending his way. His admirers seemed not to notice, but Jayce’s shoulders straightened, and he offered them a sheepish smile.

Y/N smirked, raising her glass towards him in a silent toast. Viktor gave a subtle shake of his head, a small but unmistakable warning. Jayce quickly excused himself from the group, weaving through the crowd to join his partners.

When he finally reached them, Jayce rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence a little diminished. “I see you noticed my, uh… predicament.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Predicament? Looked like you were having the time of your life.”

“More like being circled by sharks,” Viktor quipped, though there was no real venom in his tone.

Jayce huffed out a laugh, sliding an arm around both of them. “You know there’s only two people I’d rather spend my time with.”

“Smart answer,” Y/N said, though her tone was laced with affection.

“Very,” Viktor agreed, leaning slightly into Jayce’s side. “But don’t let it happen again.”

Before Jayce could respond, Y/N’s sharp eyes flicked over his shoulder, catching sight of two of his earlier admirers hesitantly making their way towards them. They were still wearing the same overly polite smiles, clearly unwilling to relinquish his attention just yet. Y/N let out a quiet, guttural sound—not quite a growl, but close enough to make Viktor glance at her with an amused expression.

“Oh no,” Viktor murmured under his breath, his lips twitching with humour. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“Let me handle it,” Y/N whispered, her voice dangerously sweet as her eyes tracked the approaching pair. “I’m not in the mood for this nonsense.”

Jayce followed her gaze, his brows knitting together as he realised who was coming. He sighed, stepping slightly in front of his partners in an instinctive gesture of protection. “I’ll—”

“No,” Y/N interrupted firmly, her free hand lightly pressing against his chest. “They’ve had more than enough of your time.”

Mel, observing the exchange, covered her mouth to hide her grin. “I do enjoy seeing you three in action,” she remarked, swirling her champagne. “It’s always so… theatrical.”

Viktor straightened slightly, gripping his cane as if considering stepping in himself. “Let them come,” he said dryly, though his tone held an edge. “I’d like to see how bold they really are.”

As the pair drew closer, Y/N’s glare sharpened into something almost predatory. The intensity of her stare must have registered because they hesitated, exchanged a few murmured words, and quickly retreated back into the crowd.

Jayce let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t realise I’d married such a formidable pair.”

Y/N smirked, lifting her glass in mock toast. “It’s not formidable—it’s called protecting what’s ours.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jayce said, his voice full of warmth as he pulled them both closer.

Mel tilted her head, raising her glass to them. “Now, that is how you command a room without saying a word. Bravo.”

VANDER

Y/N was bustling about the dimly lit chaos of The Last Drop, weaving through the crowd with the practised ease of someone who’d worked the bar for years. The tavern was alive with noise: laughter, shouts, clinking glasses, and the occasional thud of a fist meeting a table in emphasis. The air smelled of spilled ale, sweat, and smoke, but Y/N didn’t mind. She thrived in this environment. She always carried herself with an air of calm grace, even amidst the most chaotic nights, her presence grounding to both the regulars and the staff.

Tonight was no different—at least, not at first. But as the hours ticked by, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A quick glance confirmed it: a table in the corner, occupied by a group of men who’d been lingering far too long over their drinks, their gazes lingering far too long on her.

She ignored them as best she could, continuing to flit between tables, clearing mugs, taking orders, and flashing her polite smile at every lewd comment thrown her way. It wasn’t uncommon in a place like this, but it didn’t make it any less tiresome. She was used to handling herself, though. She always had been.

Eventually, the inevitable happened. She approached the corner table to clear the growing collection of empty mugs. One of the men, a scruffy fellow with a greasy grin, leaned back in his chair and extended his boot, blocking her path with an exaggerated smirk.

"Well, aren’t you a pretty thing," he slurred, his words thick with drink and arrogance. His eyes roamed over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "Didn’t know The Last Drop hired angels to serve the likes of us."

Y/N kept her expression neutral, though her polite smile remained firmly in place. She expertly sidestepped his boot, bending slightly to collect the mugs without missing a beat. “Just doing my job,” she replied smoothly, her tone calm and professional. “What can I get you?”

The man’s companions chuckled, their laughter carrying the kind of oily smugness that sent a flicker of annoyance through her. She didn’t let it show, focusing instead on scribbling down their order. But one of the men leaned forward, his smirk widening as his eyes caught the glint of her wedding ring.

"That ring of yours, love,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Bet whoever put it there can’t protect you like we could. Someone like you needs a man who can actually handle himself.” He sat back, clearly pleased with his own bravado, as his companions snickered.

Y/N felt a flicker of irritation, but her smile didn’t falter. She was used to comments like this, and she knew how to brush them off without escalating the situation. Still, she opened her mouth to respond, ready to deliver a cutting yet professional retort—when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

A familiar presence loomed behind her, and a long shadow fell across the table. The men’s chuckles faded as they slowly realised they were no longer the centre of attention. Vander had arrived.

“Is that right?” came his low, gravelly voice, calm but brimming with a quiet menace that sent a chill through the room.

Y/N didn’t even flinch. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile softening slightly at the sight of her husband. Vander stood tall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his imposing figure radiating authority. His eyes, cold and calculating, were fixed on the men at the table.

The scruffy man who had spoken earlier shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his cocky grin faltering. "Just a bit of fun,” he muttered, his bravado evaporating under Vander’s piercing gaze.

“Funny,” Vander said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned down slightly, resting a large, calloused hand on Y/N’s lower back. “Because it sounded like you were asking for a different kind of lesson.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and the men exchanged uneasy glances. Y/N, ever composed, placed the tray down on the table with practised ease, her polite smile still firmly in place.

“Well then,” she said cheerfully, her tone light and unconcerned, “your drinks will be out shortly.” Her calm demeanour only seemed to emphasise Vander’s silent warning, and she could feel his hand resting protectively against her back.

Vander straightened, his gaze never leaving the table as he addressed the men one final time. "You’d best remember where you are. And who runs it." His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "You don’t touch what’s mine."

The men muttered hurried apologies, their confidence thoroughly shattered. They couldn’t look anywhere but their table as Y/N turned to continue her work, Vander following close behind her. When they reached the bar, she glanced up at him with a teasing smile, her expression amused.

“Subtle as ever, aren’t you?” she said softly, reaching for a fresh tray of mugs.

Vander huffed a quiet laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned against the bar. His hand brushed hers, a quiet reassurance. “Didn’t like the way they looked at you.”

“I noticed.” She leaned up on her toes, Vander bending down a little, to press a quick kiss to his cheek, her smile warm. “But I’ve got it handled. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s going to try anything now.”

Vander smiled down at her, his hand resting briefly against her cheek before dropping to his side. “Damn right they won’t.”

Despite the earlier tension, the moment between them felt light, easy. Y/N returned to her work with a renewed sense of calm, while Vander lingered near the bar, his protective gaze ensuring no one else even thought about testing their luck.

SILCO

The dim light of Silco's office cast long shadows across the room, the flickering flames of the lamps accentuating his sharp features. He sat at his desk, fingers steepled, eyes narrowed in thought as he spoke with a man from one of the lesser factions in Zaun. Silco's voice was calm, calculated, but there was an edge to it—a clear warning not to waste his time. His presence alone commanded authority, but there was something more palpable in the air. The unspoken understanding that crossing him would be a mistake—one no one would make twice.

And then, there was you.

Leaning languidly against the edge of Silco's desk, you were a vision of confidence, of power masked behind the allure of your smile. Your body was angled just enough to hold the man’s attention, your eyes locked onto his, but always, always dancing over him as if to draw him in. Your lips curled into a sultry smile, soft and inviting, while your fingers traced the smooth surface of the desk, the subtle motion hypnotic, like the flick of a predator’s tail.

You knew exactly what you were doing. Your touch, the slow movements of your hands, they were designed to disarm, to draw attention away from Silco’s calculated threats and promises. The man—poor fool—couldn’t seem to focus on a single word Silco was saying. His eyes darted between you and the dangerous man across the desk, unable to stop himself from being pulled into your orbit. You could practically see his resolve crumbling, his thoughts scrambling as your presence enveloped him.

You leaned forward slightly, close enough to make him tense, your hand brushing lightly across the man’s shoulder. His breath caught, eyes widening as you spoke, your voice a soft, lilting purr that made his chest tighten. "You know," you murmured, the words laced with honeyed temptation, "working with us could benefit you more than you think. I can promise, we make it worth your while."

The man stammered, lost for words as your fingers trailed slowly down the front of his chest. Your touch was delicate but deliberate, each movement designed to toy with him, to make him feel as if he were the only person in the room. His pulse quickened as he tried to compose himself, but you leaned in just enough for your lips to hover close to his ear, the scent of your perfume clouding his mind.

Silco watched all of it, his gaze as cold as steel. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the edge of his desk, the movement barely noticeable, but his jaw clenched with restraint. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were a black widow—using your beauty, your charm, your body as a weapon, a tool to distract, to ensnare, to get what you wanted. And he couldn't help but admire it, in all its lethal precision. You had always been a master of manipulation, drawing people into your web with ease, your every move calculated to make them underestimate the danger you posed.

It was thrilling, watching you weave your spell, but it was dangerous too. Because while he had seen many fall prey to your charms, seeing your hands on another man, your lips curling with that teasing smile—it stirred something in him that wasn’t just a sharp sense of control, but a possessiveness, an urge to protect what was his, and a frustration that he couldn’t fully contain. It was a feeling that didn’t make sense, one that was far from rational, but it was there nonetheless, simmering beneath the surface.

A flare of jealousy—sharp, immediate—flashed through him.

"Enough," Silco snapped, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip cracking through the air. The man jumped, startled, his eyes shifting between Silco and you, as if trying to gauge his next move. But Silco’s glare was as unforgiving as a blade, and the man was no fool. "Leave. Now."

The man blinked, the fear creeping into his eyes as he quickly gathered himself. His hands fumbled as he straightened his clothes, his voice shaking as he stammered a hasty apology. Silco's gaze, cold and commanding, made it clear there was no room for argument. The man didn’t hesitate; he fled, the door slamming behind him as though it were a final punctuation to his presence in Silco’s domain.

You turned slowly towards Silco, your lips curving into a teasing smile. You could feel the shift in the air, the subtle tension that thickened as you stood before him. Your brow arched, and you tilted your head, a faint, innocent look in your eyes that did little to mask the playfulness beneath. "What?" you asked, your voice lilting, soft as you returned his gaze. "I was just making sure he didn’t get distracted."

Silco’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, but his movements betrayed his inner thoughts. He stood abruptly, stepping around the desk with the calculated grace of a predator, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved with purpose, each step measured, predatory. His presence closed in around you like a tightening noose, and you knew there was no escape from the storm you had stirred.

"What was that, darling?" His voice was low, a growl wrapped in silk, the words heavy with dark intent. He stopped in front of you, his towering presence forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. "Don’t play coy with me."

You shrugged nonchalantly, not an ounce of fear in your posture, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. "Just helping you seal the deal. He seemed… distracted. I thought a little charm might keep him focused."

He moved suddenly, his hand darting out to grip your chin, not with violence, but with the firm authority that only he could wield. His fingers were like iron around you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. You couldn’t look away, caught in the heat of his glare, the raw intensity of his gaze burning through you like a brand. "You think I need your… charm to make people listen to me?" His voice was dangerously soft, but the underlying threat was clear.

You smirked, undeterred, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Of course not. But it doesn’t hurt to have a little insurance, does it?"

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath catch. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressing into yours as his breath ghosted over your ear. "And what about me, Y/N?" he whispered, his voice dark, thick with a possessiveness you could feel radiating off him. "Watching you touch him, lean into him like that…" His hand moved to the small of your back, fingers splaying out as though claiming you in front of him, as if the very air around you belonged to him. "Do you enjoy testing my patience?"

Your smirk faltered, just slightly. His jealousy was palpable, raw, and it sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You’d never seen him so openly possessive. "I didn’t mean anything by it," you murmured, your voice dropping into something more sincere, more vulnerable. "You know that."

His lips brushed against your ear, the feel of his breath sending a tremor through you. "I do," he said, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. "But I can’t stand the sight of another man’s hands near you—or yours on him." His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and the sharp edges of his anger twisted into something more primal. "I think you need a reminder of who you belong to."

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours with a hunger that nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. His kiss was fierce, possessive, claiming, as if he wanted to mark you, to make you remember where you belonged. His hands moved over you, gripping your hips tightly, possessively, as though daring the universe itself to try and take you from him. You melted into the kiss, the heat between you both burning bright and consuming.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, hooded with desire, but beneath that, there was something more—an unspoken command. His voice was a low rasp, filled with a raw edge. "You’re mine, Y/N," he whispered, each word dripping with possessiveness. "And don’t you forget it."

A sly smile crept across your face, despite the heavy weight of his words. You leaned into him, your hands sliding up his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles, and your lips brushed against his ear. "How could I, with the way you remind me?"

His smirk returned, but it was sharper, more dangerous. "Good," he growled, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as though there was no distance he was willing to allow. "Because next time, I won’t be so… patient."

As the air around you thickened with desire, you could feel the undeniable shift in power—you were his, and you always would be. The game had changed. And Silco, in all his quiet, commanding intensity, had reminded you just how much control he had over you, body and soul.

JINX/POWDER

The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows over Zaun's rundown streets. The city had always been a place of stark contrasts—grimy and industrial, yet teeming with life, especially in the market district. Y/N sat on an old, weathered bench, legs crossed, her hands resting loosely in her lap as she hummed a soft melody, her gaze distant. The hustle and bustle around her seemed to fade as she focused on the simple pleasure of the moment.

A small cluster of Zaun’s children had gathered around her, forming a loose circle. They were entranced by her calm, collected presence. Her voice, a soft mix of wisdom and warmth, flowed effortlessly as she spoke to them.

“I don’t care if you make mistakes,” she said with a reassuring smile, her eyes flicking between the eager faces of the kids. “We all do. But that’s not what matters. What matters is what you do after. You can keep making the same mistake, or you can learn from it and move forward. What are you gonna do?”

The children’s eyes lit up, hanging on her every word, nodding along as if absorbing each bit of advice like a sponge. Y/N had become their unspoken anchor in this chaotic world, a person they could rely on for more than just survival tips. She gave them hope in a place that had little of it to spare, and they respected her deeply for it. Whether they sought advice on how to stay out of trouble or simply needed someone to listen, Y/N was always there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden, unmistakable sound of someone shifting through the alleyways, their footsteps quick and light, a telltale sign of someone who wasn’t trying to be discreet. Y/N smiled softly to herself, knowing exactly who it was, even before she looked up.

The familiar rustling of Jinx's footsteps echoed through the air, and sure enough, the moment Y/N’s gaze lifted, she spotted her—her hair a chaotic mess of blue curls, eyes narrowed in a way that meant only one thing: mischief. Jinx’s gaze, however, was fixed firmly on the group of kids gathered around Y/N.

Y/N could practically hear the gears turning in Jinx's head. The older woman could see the sharp lines of irritation appearing across Jinx’s face, her lips curling into an almost predatory smirk. Her eyes—those wild, electric blue eyes—glowed with a certain intensity that made her presence undeniably formidable.

“They’re all over you, huh?” Jinx asked, her voice tinged with an edge of annoyance that only she could mask with that signature grin. “What’s the deal with that? They’re... like... swarming you, and I’m standing here, like, totally ignored.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh light but full of affection. She turned to meet Jinx’s gaze, watching the younger woman as she crossed her arms over her chest, a sulking pout beginning to form.

“They just look up to me, Jinx,” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the one who’s been around longer. They’re kids; they need someone to look to. You know that.”

But before Y/N could say more, Jinx had already taken a step forward, her posture suddenly rigid with determination. Her eyes locked onto the children, who had begun to slowly back away, sensing her unsettling presence. Without a word, Jinx raised a hand, giving them a slow, deliberate glare. It was the kind of look that could freeze anyone in place, a mixture of warning and threat that sent a chill through the air.

The kids, wide-eyed and stiff with fear, began to scatter. One by one, they scurried away, no longer able to stand their ground against the unpredictable force of Jinx. Y/N shook her head with an exasperated but fond smile.

“Jinx,” she called, her voice light, “you really need to stop scaring them off like that.”

Jinx let out a huff, her arms still crossed, and her pout deepened, lips curving into a sulky frown. “They were getting too close to you,” she muttered, her voice quiet but dripping with possessiveness. “They were... I don’t like it when they crowd you like that.”

Y/N rose from the bench, her movements slow and deliberate as she walked over to Jinx. She stood in front of her for a moment, taking in the conflicted expression on Jinx’s face. She could see the underlying vulnerability beneath the tough exterior, and it made her heart soften.

With a gentle touch, Y/N placed her hands on Jinx’s shoulders, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice soft and affectionate, “you don’t have to worry about them. They don’t want to take me from you. They look up to me because I’ve been here longer. But you…” She paused, her thumb lightly brushing across Jinx’s cheek, “you’ll always be my little troublemaker. The one who keeps me on my toes.”

Jinx's gaze softened, but she still crossed her arms tighter, looking down at her feet. The faintest hint of insecurity flickered in her eyes, but it quickly vanished as she looked back up at Y/N.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me,” Jinx murmured, her voice smaller now, as if admitting something too fragile to say aloud.

Y/N’s heart melted at the vulnerability in her tone. She leaned down even further, resting her forehead against Jinx’s, her hands cupping the younger woman’s face. “You’ll never lose me, Jinx. Ever,” she said softly, her words a promise. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me. Whether you like it or not.”

For a brief moment, Jinx seemed unsure, her gaze darting away as if she couldn’t quite believe it. But then she nodded, a tiny, satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright,” she said, the confidence returning to her voice. “But if they try again... I’m scaring them all off, and you can’t stop me.”

Y/N’s laughter bubbled up again, and she wrapped her arms around Jinx in a quick, tender hug. “Deal,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “But you know, you don’t have to protect me from the kids. They’re just trying to learn from me.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, but her grin returned, as wild and carefree as ever. “I know, I know. But I don’t trust anyone near you,” she replied, her tone still playful.

Y/N kissed the top of Jinx’s head affectionately, pulling away with a wide grin. “And that’s exactly why I love you, you little mischief-maker.”

Jinx’s eyes sparkled with something that could only be described as pride, and her grin widened. The earlier jealousy had been replaced with a renewed sense of certainty. She was the one Y/N was always going to be there for, and that knowledge settled deep in her chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jinx said with a teasing roll of her eyes. “Just don’t forget it.”

Y/N chuckled again, her heart swelling with affection for the young woman standing beside her. She had no idea what Zaun would throw at them next, but with Jinx at her side, she knew they could handle whatever came their way.

Side by side, the two of them stood in the fading light, ready to face whatever chaos the streets of Zaun had in store for them.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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corpsedogs · 2 days ago

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jason todd x f!reader

✿ sea of lamp stars. — comforting jason after a nightmare

It was about three in the morning when Jason jolted up awake. He was sweating, his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest by any moment and slowly he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He remembers choking on the acidic liquid on his mouth and the feeling of being boiled to the skin and bone.

It was too much for him to bear.

You fluttered your eyes to see him sitting up, staring into space. Eyes wide, heavy breathing and eyes teary. You sat beside him, placing your hands on his shoulders so you could move to face him.

“Hey, hey? What’s the matter?” you whispered softly. Your touch on his shoulders was light, almost barely touching. Jason swallowed, he felt like something was choking his neck, preventing him from speaking. “It's— the..”

You looked at his eyes, he was fighting to hold back tears as his body was tense. You lend out both of your hands to him, silently asking if you could hold his.

He slowly gave his hands to yours as you gently clasp it. It was as if Jason’s breath finally relaxed a bit by having you hold his hands. His shoulders finally slumped a bit as he slowly started catching his breath, though his body still shook slightly from the fear he was feeling.

He kept his eyes down, embarrassed and almost ashamed of himself for having a nightmare like that. For being vulnerable.

“It’s alright…” you whispered as you gently squeezed his hands to comfort him. You brought one of your hands to gently stroke his cheek, “I’m right here. You’d be alright, I promise.”

You knew all too well that he hated showing this side of him to you. He would often lie or avoid whenever he would be at his worst.

He tried to keep a straight face, to hide the pain he felt but he knew he couldn’t hide anything from you. You’ve known him long enough by now, this wasn’t the first time he had an episode like this.

He leaned his face into your hand as he squeezed your hand. He finally looked into your eyes, his own eyes were watery, his breathing was still unsteady.

“Can I show you something?” you asked. At first he was confused by your question but he quickly nodded in silent consent.

You walk away from the bed as you take a lamp from the closet. You opened the hatch to check if it still had batteries, and so it did. You then move to the windows to close the blinds, making the bedroom pitch black.

After that, you went back to the bed with the lamp in your hands. He raises an eyebrow, “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Give me a second…” you tried to find the switch on the lamp as it did, the room was filled with a very beautiful light. He blinks in awe as the light lit up, displaying the solar system on the ceiling. He watched the way the light moved, it almost felt relaxing.

“Where’d you get this?” He asked quietly. You only shrugged, “Just from some garage sale. I thought it looked cute but I didn’t use it that much.” you said.

You then pressed a button on the lamp as it showed the different constellations. “If you press this button, it changes into this.”

He stayed silent for a while, still staring at the lights as you fiddled around the lamp. He can tell you’re trying to calm him down, to distract him from the nightmare he had.

He then pulls you in his arms for a hug. You were a bit caught off guard, not nonetheless you hugged him back. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, “Thank you.” he murmurs, his voice was quiet and soft, barely a whisper.

You softly smiled, “Of course.” He stayed silent for a while as he held onto you, just holding you and listening to your breathing. This was just what he needed, to be able to ground himself through you.

“You know, it's a shame we can’t see that many stars in Gotham.” you frowned. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s too much pollution here. Can’t see anything but the bat signal.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, true.”

He stayed silent for a moment, listening to the soft hum of the lamp and feeling a moment of peace in his mind. He slowly pulled away, “Hey, can we… lie down for a bit?” he asked.

You nodded, “Sure.” He then lays down, bringing you down with him as he does. He wraps his arms around you as he pulls you against his chest.

You look at the constellations up the ceiling, “I don’t know much about constellations, their patterns and names confuse me.” you said.

“Really?” He murmured, hands were gently caressing your back. “Yeah, all the stars look exactly like some other stars.” you replied.

He was silent for a moment as he stared at the constellations before he spoke again, “The one on the left corner is the big dipper.”

He then pointed to another one, “And that one’s the little dipper.” He moves his hand a bit to point at the center, “And that’s the North Star… but you’re right. It's really hard to distinguish the stars here.” he said.

You hummed, “I see.“

His arms were still wrapped around you, holding you tightly. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You don’t have to stay up with me if you don’t want to.” he said quietly.

You shook your head, “I can, besides how can you sleep with this view?”

“Alright, be stubborn.”

ooc, i think. i hope not.. anyways please reblog and comment

#✿ saf’s fics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x f!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanons #jason todd headcanon #jason todd dc #jason todd fic #jason todd #dc x reader #red hood dc #dc #dc comics #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red robin x reader #red hood

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aesthetically-dying101 · 2 days ago

Text

Mine

A/N: last instalement! yaysies!

Warnings: smut at the end, mention of marriage, toxic ex mention , this is incredibly long, dometic nanami.

Part 1: Unattainable; Part 2: Obtainable.

Nanami had never been so nervous in his life.

Not during his first court case, not when he was promoted to head of his firm, not even when he stood before a courtroom filled with people, their collective gaze pressing down on him like a physical weight.

But now? Now he was seated at the best table in the city’s most exclusive restaurant, his hands resting on the white linen tablecloth, and he couldn’t remember the last time his heart had beat this fast.

The restaurant was quiet, understated, elegant. It was the kind of place where the lighting was dim but warm, where each table was spaced far enough apart to offer a sense of intimacy. He’d made sure to reserve a corner table by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline, its twinkling lights mirroring the way his chest felt—bright, chaotic, alive.

He checked his watch.

She wasn’t late.

Of course not. You’re always on time, always.

He’d made sure to arrive early—fifteen minutes, to be exact—but every passing second felt like an eternity.

He adjusted his tie for the fourth time. Why had he worn a tie? Was it too formal? Maybe a bow? Maybe he should’ve gone with something more casual—no, no. This wasn’t casual. This was you. Nothing about you warranted casual. You were elegance and precision, confidence and poise. You deserved the best, and he was determined to give you exactly that.

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He looked up, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

There you were, walking toward him, and God help him, you were stunning.

You weren’t wearing anything flashy—just a simple black dress that hugged your frame perfectly, paired with heels that made your legs look impossibly long. Your hair was styled, your makeup subtle but flawless, and you walked with that same effortless grace that had always made his chest tighten.

For a second, he genuinely thought he might die. Right there. At the table. This is it. This is how I go. Cause of death: you.

He stood up as you approached, his palms slightly damp but his posture composed, ever the gentleman.

“Nanami,” you greeted, your voice smooth, your lips curved into a soft smile that sent his heart straight into overdrive.

“You look…” He stopped, realizing too late that he didn’t have the words prepared. Breathtaking. Ethereal. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Instead, he settled on: “Incredible.”

Your smile widened, and he swore the room got brighter. “Thank you.”

He pulled out your chair for you, careful not to let his hands shake, then returned to his seat, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself.

You picked up the menu, your eyes skimming the options, but Nanami couldn’t bring himself to look at his own. He was too busy staring at you. Not in a creepy way (at least he hoped not), but in an awe-struck, holy-shit-she’s-here-with-me kind of way.

He noticed everything.

The way your fingers lightly traced the edge of the menu, the delicate arch of your brow as you considered your options, the way the soft lighting highlighted the curve of your cheekbone.

Propose now. Just do it. The thought shot through his brain like a rogue missile, and he had to mentally slap himself. No. No, absolutely not. This is the first date, Nanami. Pull it together.

When the waiter arrived to take your orders, Nanami made sure to order a wine he knew would pair perfectly with the dishes you’d chosen. He didn’t miss the way you tilted your head slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing your face at his attention to detail.

“You’ve really thought this through,” you remarked, a teasing note in your voice.

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. “You deserve nothing less.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. Was that too much? Too forward? But you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, your smile softened, and for the first time that evening, Nanami felt a flicker of confidence.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything—work, life, the absurdities of the legal world. You were sharp and witty, your laugh lighting up the space between you, and Nanami found himself hanging onto every word, every expression, every little gesture.

But beneath it all, he was fighting a losing battle with himself.

Because Goddamn it, he wanted you. Not just physically—though, yes, he absolutely wanted that too—but completely. He wanted to know every facet of you, to wake up next to you, to cook you breakfast, to see you in all your unguarded moments.

And the worst part? You had no idea (no you totally did, but shhhh, don't spoil the fun).

When dessert arrived—a beautifully plated chocolate soufflé—you leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him.

“You’re quiet tonight, Nanami,” you said, your tone playful but curious. “What’s on your mind?”

You. Always you.

He cleared his throat, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. “Just... enjoying the evening.”

You smiled, and he swore he saw something flicker in your eyes—something that made his pulse stutter.

“Well,” you said, picking up your fork and slicing into the soufflé, “I’m glad. I am too.”

He watched as you took a bite, your lips curling into a satisfied smile, and he had to look away before his thoughts went completely off the rails.

The night ended too quickly for his liking. As you both stood outside the restaurant, the city lights casting a golden glow around you, Nanami struggled to find the words to express what he was feeling.

But before he could say anything, you stepped closer, your voice low but steady.

“Thank you for tonight, Nanami,” you said, your eyes meeting his. “It was perfect.”

And then, before he could fully process what was happening, you leaned up and kissed him—softly, briefly, but enough to set his entire world on fire.

When you pulled back, he was stunned into silence, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

“Goodnight,” you said, your smile warm but teasing, and then you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there like an idiot, his lips tingling and his brain short-circuiting.

As he watched you disappear into the night, one thought echoed in his mind, clear and unrelenting:

I’m going to marry her.

*-*

Nanami walked into his office, shoulders already tense from a morning full of meetings, depositions, and paperwork. He hadn’t even had time for coffee yet, and he was dreading the stack of files waiting for him- especially after the date yesterday.

But all of that dissolved the moment he saw you.

You were sitting at his desk.

His very neatly organized desk, casually leaning back in his chair like you owned the place. A bento box was open in front of you, chopsticks in hand as you plucked a piece of tamagoyaki from a perfectly arranged array of food.

And next to it? A second bento box, unopened but clearly meant for him.

Nanami froze in the doorway, his brain short-circuiting.

You glanced up, completely unbothered by his stunned expression. “Ah, Nanami,” you greeted with a small smile, setting your chopsticks down. “Apologies for dropping by unannounced, but also, your secretary told me I had free access to your office?”

The words barely registered because holy shit, you made him food. His gaze darted to the bento box again, taking in the careful arrangement of rice, grilled fish, vegetables, and even a small dessert tucked into one corner.

It was perfect.

Too perfect. Did you make this yourself? Or was he hallucinating?

He cleared his throat, gripping the strap of his messenger bag to ground himself.

“Uh—well, yes,” he stammered, suddenly feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy who’d just been noticed by his crush. “I… I told my secretary to give you access. For… for whenever you needed it.”

You arched a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes as you leaned forward slightly. “Whenever I need it?”

God, why did you have to phrase it like that? Nanami felt his ears burn. He hurried to set his bag down, trying not to look like a complete fool as he loosened his tie. “Yes. I mean. For work-related things. Or… other things. If you needed.”

You hummed, clearly holding back a laugh as you gestured to the second bento.

“Well, since I have this magical open invitation, I figured I’d bring lunch. You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Nanami didn’t even have it in him to deny it. He sat down across from you, opening the bento box with a mix of awe and reverence, as if it were a sacred artifact. The smell alone made his stomach growl embarrassingly loud, and when he took his first bite—sweet, savory, and cooked to perfection—he almost moaned.

“This is… incredible,” he managed, his voice quiet but sincere.

You smiled, propping your chin on your hand as you watched him. “I’m glad you like it.”

Like it? Nanami was ready to write you into his will. Forget love—he was obsessed. How were you so perfect? He’d known you were smart, beautiful, and terrifyingly competent, but this? You were feeding him? Caring for him? This was dangerous. He was one step away from proposing right then and there.

The two of you ate in companionable silence, your conversation easy and light. You teased him about his neatness (“I’ve never seen such a clean desk. It’s almost creepy.”), and he gently pointed out that you’d left one of your chopsticks on a stack of his papers.

When lunch was over, you stood and smoothed your skirt, picking up the bento boxes to carry them out. Nanami, of course, offered to walk you to the elevator, because what kind of man wouldn’t?

As the two of you stepped into the main office space, every head on the floor turned to look. Assistants, paralegals, junior associates—all of them paused whatever they were doing to watch you walk beside him, perfectly poised and radiant.

Nanami tried to ignore it, but the weight of their stares made his shoulders tense. He glanced at you, worried you might feel uncomfortable, but instead, you seemed completely at ease.

When you reached the elevator, you turned to face him, your expression warm but mischievous. “Thanks for letting me invade your office,” you said lightly, leaning in slightly.

“It’s no problem,” he replied, keeping his tone professional even as his heart pounded in his chest.

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t a chaste kiss, either. You cupped his cheek, your lips soft and lingering against his, leaving absolutely no room for misinterpretation. Nanami froze, his brain shutting down entirely as the world tilted on its axis.

When you pulled back, you smiled, brushing a hand lightly over his tie. “I’ll see you later,” you said, your voice low and smooth.

And with that, you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind you.

Nanami stood there, completely still, his lips tingling, his heart trying to escape his chest. It wasn’t until he turned around and saw his entire floor staring at him—his secretary included, her hands clasped to her chest like she was watching a rom-com—that he realized the full impact of what just happened.

“She kissed me,” he muttered under his breath, dazed. “In front of everyone.”

“She kissed you,” his secretary whispered back, her eyes sparkling with glee.

Nanami ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling both exhilarated and mortified. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to collapse into his chair or march right back to that elevator to kiss you properly.

Instead, he simply walked back into his office, shut the door, and let out a long, shaky breath.

*-*

Nanami meeting Snowball and Shadow felt like a ridiculous milestone, but you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit nervous as you prepped your apartment.

The table was set, the food was warm and ready, and your two cats lounged lazily on the couch, completely unaware that their judgment of your current… whatever-this-was with Nanami was going to mean everything to you.

When he texted that he’d arrived, you did a quick last sweep of the living room, grabbed your courage, and opened the door.

Nanami, of course, was overachieving as always. He stood there holding a bouquet of elegant roses, a bottle of expensive wine tucked under one arm, and a small box of desserts in the other. His suit jacket had been traded for a simple, well-fitted sweater and dark slacks, but he still looked maddeningly polished.

“Good evening,” he said, offering that polite, slightly shy smile that always made your stomach flutter.

“Good evening,” you replied, taking the flowers from him with a soft laugh. “You didn’t have to bring all this.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he said, stepping inside when you gestured him in. He set the wine and dessert down on the kitchen counter, his movements smooth and deliberate, like he was scared to mess up.

You were used to Nanami being put-together, calm, and precise in all things, but something about seeing him here—in your space, loosening up just a little—made your heart squeeze.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you told him, nodding toward the couch. “I’ll put the flowers in a vase.”

Nanami nodded, glancing at the two cats who were already eyeing him like tiny predators. Snowball, your white fluffball of a cat, stared at him with narrowed eyes from her loaf position. Shadow, sleek and dark, crouched with a suspicious tilt to his head.

“Fair warning,” you said over your shoulder as you searched for a vase. “They don’t always like new people. So if they avoid you, don’t take it personally.”

“I’ll do my best to earn their approval,” Nanami replied, his tone serious but warm.

When you came back from the kitchen with the flowers beautifully arranged in a glass vase, you nearly dropped it.

Snowball was perched on Nanami’s lap, loafing like she’d known him for years. Shadow was standing on the back of the couch, leaning down to carefully sniff Nanami’s face, and then—what the hell—she licked his jaw.

“...What did you do?” you asked, frozen in place as you watched your traitorous cats act like Nanami was their long-lost soulmate.

Nanami blinked up at you, looking almost sheepish as Shadow continued to sniff at his collar. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, his hands carefully hovering as if unsure where to pet.

“No, seriously,” you said, setting the vase down with a thunk. “Did you bribe them with treats? Catnip? Hypnosis?”

He gave you a small smile, finally lifting a hand to gently scratch under Snowball’s chin. She responded by tilting her head and purring loud enough to shake the couch.

“I didn’t bribe them,” he said, his voice quiet and smooth. “I just… sat down.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned against the kitchen doorway. This was weird. Snowball and Shadow had been notoriously difficult with your ex. Snowball had taken nearly a year to stop hissing at him, and Shadow never so much as looked at him without suspicion. Now, here they were, acting like Nanami was their favorite human in the world.

Shadow finally curled up on the couch beside Nanami, still leaning against his side, and Snowball stretched luxuriously across his lap, purring like a damn motorboat.

You couldn’t help but stare.

“Do they always do this?” Nanami asked, glancing at you with that annoyingly handsome face of his, completely oblivious to the fact that he looked like a goddamn prince charming in that moment.

“No,” you muttered, dragging your gaze back to the flowers and rearranging them just to give your hands something to do. “No, they do not.”

You couldn’t help but compare it to the last time you’d invited someone over—your ex, fumbling awkwardly as Snowball clawed the back of his shirt and Shadow darted under the couch in protest. The difference was stark.

And as much as you hated to admit it, the sight of Nanami sitting there, looking like he belonged in your space, in your life, with your cats purring contentedly beside him, made your stomach do a weird little flip.

“Well,” you said finally, turning back to the kitchen to grab the desserts. “I guess you’ve officially won them over. That’s a big deal, you know.”

Nanami just gave a soft chuckle, his hand absently stroking Snowball’s fur.

“I’m honored,” he said, but there was something about the way he said it—so gentle, so genuine—that made you pause for just a second before shaking your head and grabbing the wine.

This man, you thought to yourself, as you walked back to join him on the couch, is going to ruin me.

*-*

The wine bottle sat empty on the coffee table, next to the remnants of dessert and two barely-touched glasses. The movie played on in the background, some noir film neither of you had really paid attention to after the first twenty minutes.

Instead, you were draped over Nanami, your legs tangled with his, one arm lazily looped around his neck as you kissed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And to his credit, Nanami kissed you back with all the tenderness in the world, his lips soft, slow, and reverent.

But that was the problem.

His hands? They stayed firmly on your waist, never wandering, never tightening, just resting there like this was some innocent middle school date. And while that had been charming for about two minutes, now it was starting to drive you a little insane.

You pulled back slightly, your breathing uneven, lips tingling, and stared at him. Nanami blinked up at you, his golden-brown eyes glassy, lips parted slightly. He looked thoroughly kissed, and yet… he was just sitting there. Like this wasn’t the kind of moment where you might actually combust if things didn’t move forward.

“Nanami,” you said, your voice low, laced with exasperation.

“Yes?” he asked, his tone so polite it bordered on absurd.

“What are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He blinked, the faintest hint of confusion flickering across his face. “Kissing you?”

You stared at him for a beat, then leaned back, arms crossing as you sat up straighter on his lap.

“That’s it? You’re just going to sit here, kissing me like we’re chaperoned teenagers at a school dance?”

Nanami’s brows furrowed, and for a split second, you saw a flicker of panic. “Wait, are you—are you saying you want to…?” His voice trailed off, like he didn��t quite know how to finish the sentence without combusting.

Your jaw dropped. “Obviously! Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, no! I mean—yes, I do, I just…” He trailed off again, his hands still glued to your waist like he was afraid to move them.

You stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment, then shook your head with a half-laugh, half-groan.

“Nanami,” you said, your tone softer now but still laced with disbelief, “you passed the cat test. Do you seriously think I’d be in your lap right now if I didn’t want this?”

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I—uh—”

With a sigh that was equal parts affection and frustration, you reached down, grabbed one of his ridiculously large hands, and placed it firmly on your ass. His eyes went comically wide, and you could actually see the moment it clicked in his brain.

“Oh,” he breathed, his voice low and a little rough.

“Yes,” you said, exasperated but grinning. “Oh.”

It was like a switch flipped.

His grip tightened on you, his other hand sliding up your back with deliberate pressure, and when he kissed you this time, there was nothing polite or restrained about it. His lips were hot and demanding, his tongue teasing yours in a way that made your toes curl.

You let out a quiet noise of approval, pressing yourself closer, one hand curling in his hair while the other wandered over the broad expanse of his chest. God, he was solid—everywhere.

As his hands wandered, you made a mental note to thank whatever divine forces had crafted this man because damn. Those hands? Perfect. The way he gripped your hips, your thighs, your waist, like he was trying to memorize every curve—perfect.

Your brain was buzzing, heat pooling low in your belly as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you made another note to bite his arms and pecs later, because wow. He was so perfect it was almost unfair.

“Nanami,” you murmured against his lips, your fingers brushing along his jaw as you leaned back slightly.

He made a low, frustrated sound, like he didn’t want to stop kissing you, but his eyes opened anyway. “Yes?”

“Can I call you Kento?” you asked, your voice teasing but genuine.

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly, and then he gave a short, breathless laugh. “Haven't you been calling me that this whole time.”

“Yeah, but I want to know if I can,” you said, grinning as you leaned in to nip at his bottom lip.

“Kento’s fine,” he murmured, his voice rough, his hands sliding up to cradle your back. “You can call me whatever you want.”

You hummed in satisfaction, kissing him again. “Good,” you murmured, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Because ‘Nanami’ feels a little too formal for what we’re doing.”

“Fair point,” he muttered, his lips finding yours again, his hands pulling you closer as the rest of the world faded away.

Nanami kissed you like his life depended on it, his hands steady on your waist, his lips warm and insistent. But then, suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours with a determined intensity that made your stomach flip.

Without a word, he stood up, his arms sliding under you, one beneath your knees and the other cradling your back, and then—like you weighed nothing—he lifted you.

You made a small sound of surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Oh,” you breathed, looking up at him, your cheeks warm.

His expression didn’t waver, that resolute focus fixed on you as he carried you toward the bedroom. “You deserve better than a couch,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “If we’re doing this, I’m doing it properly.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Oh my God. Was it normal to feel faint from just being picked up? Because it was doing things to you.

You knew Nanami was strong—he looked like a man who deadlifted in his spare time—but actually experiencing it? His broad shoulders, the way his chest shifted with every step, the way he carried you like you weren’t an entire adult?

Oh la la.

You barely had time to process it before he reached the bed and set you down with such care it nearly made you melt. His hands lingered briefly, his thumbs brushing over your sides before he straightened.

He stepped back slightly, his gaze running over you for a split second before he started undoing the buttons on his shirt. Slowly.

You sat up a little, your elbows propped on the bed as you watched. No shame, just awe. Each button revealed more of that golden skin, the sharp definition of his collarbones, the broad expanse of his chest, all lean muscle and strength.

Jesus Christ. Your ex never looked like this. No one you’d ever dated looked like this. Was it even legal to look this good? You weren’t sure, but you were sure of one thing: you’d be joining him at the gym just to watch.

When he shrugged off his shirt and reached for his belt, you couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that escaped you.

Nanami paused, his hands halting, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Am I… doing something wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation.

You shook your head immediately, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

“Nope. It’s just…” You gestured vaguely at him. “You’re so pretty.”

For a split second, Nanami just stared at you, clearly caught off guard. Then, to your absolute delight, the tips of his ears turned pink, the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks.

His flustered reaction only fueled your giddiness. You giggled, a sound that felt foreign after everything you’d been through lately, but also so good. It had been so long since you felt this light, this… giddy over a man.

Nanami cleared his throat, his hands resuming their work on his belt. “I—thank you,” he muttered, his voice a little gruffer now, like he wasn’t quite sure how to process the compliment.

When he pushed his slacks down and stood there in just his boxers, you were already halfway gone. But when those, too, hit the floor—

Your breath caught in your throat. Your brain stopped working for a solid three seconds. Holy shit.

“Is… everything okay?” Nanami asked cautiously, his brow furrowing as he caught your expression.

You blinked a few times, dragging your gaze back to his face. “This is so unfair,” you muttered, almost to yourself.

His brows knit tighter. “What is?”

“You,” you said, gesturing at him like that explained everything. “How are you so pretty? Even your dick? Like, what the fuck, Kento?”

The flush on his cheeks deepened, and you could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch, like he was trying not to smile.

But you weren’t laughing.

Okay, maybe you were internally, because this was ridiculous—this whole man was ridiculous. From the way his broad shoulders filled out a suit to the fact that he apparently passed the cat test on the first try to… this.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady, though you could see the faintest flicker of something—amusement? Adoration? You weren’t sure, but it made your chest ache in the best way.

“Are you just going to keep sitting there, admiring me?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, though there was an edge of shyness to it.

You grinned, feeling the last of your nerves fade away as you leaned back on your elbows, your legs shifting invitingly. “Maybe,” you said, your voice playful. “Unless you have other plans?”

His eyes darkened slightly, his throat working as he swallowed. “Oh, I have plans,” he murmured, stepping closer, his hands reaching for you with that same steady, deliberate care.

And as he lowered himself over you, his lips brushing yours, you couldn’t help but think: Yeah, this man is absolutely perfect.

*-*

Nanami took a slow, deep breath through his nose, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him. He was naked. In your bedroom. Naked. With you.

He didn’t panic.

Not outwardly.

But internally? Oh, internally he was unraveling faster than he thought humanly possible. His heart thundered against his ribcage like it was trying to escape, and the heat pooling low in his body was so overwhelming that he was half-convinced he might pass out.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Okay, you’re already looking down. Fuck.

Your were standing there, peeling away layers of clothing with an ease that was both graceful and maddening. Each article of clothing you removed revealed more of you—smooth, soft skin, curves that his hands itched to touch, and a confidence in your movements that utterly destroyed him.

He tried to focus on anything else—your bedside table, the faint glow of the lamp, the sound of your soft breaths. Don’t lose it, Kento. Keep your shit together. You are a grown man, not a horny teenager. Breathe. You’re fine.

And then you slid your last piece of clothing off.

Oh no. You are not fine.

Nanami’s mouth went dry.

The world tilted slightly on its axis. He swore he could hear the faint ringing in his ears that came with sheer sensory overload.

You were… breathtaking. No, breathtaking wasn’t even the right word—there wasn’t a word in his vocabulary that could encompass how incredible you looked.

Your skin glowed in the warm light, and the curve of your body was so stunning, so utterly perfect, that he wanted to commit every inch of you to memory. But it wasn’t just your body—it was the way you held yourself. Confident. Beautiful. Unapologetic.

And then you looked at him. That look—that playful, knowing look—was his undoing.

“Kento,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth and something else that made his knees weak.

He blinked, realizing he’d been frozen in place. “Y-Yes?” His voice cracked slightly, and he wanted to bury himself six feet under.

You smirked. SMIRKED. “You okay there?”

He forced himself to swallow, nodding slowly. “Yes. Fine.” Totally fine. Completely normal. Definitely not trying to fend off a stroke because all the blood in his body has abandoned his brain.

You laughed, low and warm, and stepped closer to him. That was when he noticed that he was staring. Oh, God, he was staring. His gaze darted to the side for a moment, but you caught his chin gently, tilting his face back to yours.

“Kento,” you repeated, your tone softer now, less teasing. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. It absolutely wasn’t. But when you smiled at him like that? He could almost believe it was.

He took a steadying breath, his hands reaching out instinctively to rest on your hips, and even that small contact sent a jolt of heat through his veins. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Your smile widened, and you leaned up to kiss him, slow and deliberate, and it was everything. His hands tightened slightly on your hips, but he pulled back before things got out of hand. He didn’t trust himself right now.

“Lie down,” he said gently, his voice low and rough with restraint.

You arched a brow but did as he asked, stretching out on the bed in a way that made his brain short-circuit.

Nanami followed you, lowering himself beside you with all the caution of a man defusing a bomb. He ran a hand over your arm, his touch featherlight, before trailing his fingers down your side, mapping the curve of your waist, the line of your hip.

You sighed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you watched him, and he swore he’d never seen anything more captivating in his entire life.

Focus, Kento. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another just below it. He took his time, his lips and hands exploring your skin like he was committing her to memory.

He kissed his way down your body, every soft sound you made spurring him on. He was methodical, thorough, worshipful—because that’s what this was.

Worship.

Your hands found his hair, her fingers threading through it as he worked his way lower, and he could feel the faint tremble in your body beneath him. It made him want to fall apart and hold himself together all at once.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your skin.

You looked at him, your eyes warm and full of trust, and nodded. “More than okay.”

And that was all the encouragement he needed.

*-*

You were panting like you’d just run a marathon, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you blinked up at the ceiling in sheer disbelief.

Your thighs still trembled, weak from the way Kento had just worked you over like his life depended on it.

Twice.

You weren’t even sure how you’d gotten there, let alone back-to-back.

Your body still buzzed with the aftershocks of your second orgasm, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to cry, laugh, or just ascend.

This man—this man. His tongue was a weapon of mass destruction. You hadn’t expected it, not like this.

Sure, you knew he was capable—he carried himself with so much precision, so much control, in every other aspect of his life. But this? This was a level of skill that felt almost illegal.

And then, as you were finally starting to breathe like a normal person again, Kento leaned up on his elbows and looked at you. His lips were slick, his hair disheveled in a way that made your stomach flip, and his golden-brown eyes were half-lidded, dark with intent.

He licked his lips—slow, deliberate—and the action sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through your body.

“Don’t stop now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough like gravel.

You blinked at him, your mind still trying to reboot. “Kento, I—”

Before you could finish, he sat up, his large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you toward him like you weighed nothing. It was almost unfair how easily he handled you, how much strength he had beneath that quiet, unassuming demeanor.

“What are you—” you started, but the words died in your throat when he laid back down, pulling you with him.

“Kento,” you said again, your voice tinged with nervous laughter, “I’m not—what are you doing?”

“Come here,” he said simply, his tone firm but laced with something softer. Something that made your stomach twist in knots.

Your eyes widened slightly as you realized what he was trying to do, and you shook your head quickly. “Wait—no, I’m too—”

“You’re not,” he interrupted, his hands gripping your thighs as he guided you up, positioning you over his face.

“Kento, seriously—what if I’m too heavy? Or what if you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off again, his tone resolute, his eyes locking onto yours. He looked so calm, so confident, as if there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind about this.

“But—”

“No buts,” he said firmly, his hands sliding up to cup your hips. “Let me do this. Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, your nerves warring with the heat that still burned in your core. But the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made your defenses crumble.

Slowly, cautiously, you let him guide you down, your knees resting on either side of his head as you hovered above him. “If it’s too much, just—”

He pulled you down before you could finish, his mouth already on you, and your words dissolved into a sharp gasp.

Oh, fuck.

You’d been worried—about your weight, about whether he could breathe, about a thousand things—but all of those thoughts vanished the second his tongue moved against you.

He groaned softly, the vibrations of the sound sending shivers down your spine, and his grip on your hips tightened.

Your head fell back as his tongue worked you over with the same devastating precision he’d shown earlier. But this was different—this was deeper, more intense, like he was trying to unravel you completely.

“Kento,” you breathed, your hands gripping the headboard for support as your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

He didn’t answer, didn’t pause—just kept going like a man possessed, his mouth and tongue finding every spot that made you tremble, gasp, moan.

You felt ridiculous, honestly. Ridiculous that you were here, in this position, with this man who looked like he belonged on the cover of some magazine—and he was doing this. Happily. Eagerly.

And the worst part? He was so good at it.

Your thoughts became a jumbled mess, each movement of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Kento, I—”

You couldn’t finish. You couldn’t think.

All you could do was hold on and pray you’d survive this, because at this rate, you weren’t sure you’d make it out alive.

When his tongue pressed against that one spot again, and his hands guided your hips down just a little more firmly, you broke—your body arching, trembling, as your third orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave.

And Kento? He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. If anything, the soft groan he let out as you came only spurred him on, like he was addicted to the way you fell apart for him.

As the aftershocks faded and you tried to catch your breath, you managed to look down at him, your voice shaky as you asked, “How are you even real?”

He smirked up at you, his lips glistening, and his voice was low and teasing when he replied, “You’re one to talk.”

You collapsed to the side, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, as Kento pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs. His hands massaged your hips gently, his thumbs tracing soothing circles into your skin as if trying to ground you after the absolute chaos he’d just put you through.

It was almost sweet—until your gaze drifted downward, and you caught sight of the way his cock strained against his stomach.

Oh.

You’d seen it earlier when he stripped—how could you not—but now, with him so worked up, it somehow looked bigger.

Kento noticed your lingering gaze, and his brows furrowed slightly as he shifted beneath you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, still tinged with concern.

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a small, teasing smile. “I’m fine,” you murmured, your fingers trailing down his chest. He stiffened under your touch, his abs clenching slightly, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. “But you, on the other hand…”

He swallowed hard as you shuffled to kneel between his legs, your hands resting on his thighs. You could practically feel the tension radiating off him, his body coiled tight like a spring, but he still managed to keep his composure.

Barely.

“Kento,” you murmured, leaning forward just enough to ghost your lips over the tip of his cock, “you look like you’re about to lose your mind.”

His breath hitched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying him.

You grinned at that, your fingers wrapping around the base of him, and his head fell back against the pillows with a sharp exhale. God, he was thick. The heat of him throbbed in your hand, and you took a moment to trace the veins that ran along his length, marveling at how impossibly hard he was.

“Seriously,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, “how is this thing so pretty?”

Kento let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh, his hand coming up to cover his face. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” you interrupted, your thumb brushing over the swollen head of his cock. He gasped, his hips twitching slightly, and you giggled. “And I will.”

Before he could protest—or combust—you leaned down, taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice low and wrecked, his head pressing harder into the pillows.

You worked him slowly, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way his thighs tensed beneath your hands. Each sound he made, each shudder of his breath, sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but take your time, teasing him, dragging this out.

But eventually, Kento’s hand found your hair, his grip gentle but firm as he tugged you back. “I’m—I need…” he started, his words trailing off as he looked down at you with a mix of desperation and restraint.

You pulled away with a soft pop, wiping the corner of your mouth as you met his gaze. “You need what?” you asked, your voice sweet, teasing.

He let out a shaky laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he murmured, “You.”

Your heart stuttered at the rawness in his voice, but you didn’t let it throw you off. You reached over to grab a condom from the nightstand, and his breath hitched again as you rolled it onto him.

Then, you straddled him, lining yourself up as you slowly sank down.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his chest as you stilled, giving yourself a moment to adjust. He was… thick.

Kento’s hands flew to your waist, his grip firm but grounding as he forced himself to stay still beneath you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice strained, his knuckles turning white where they gripped your hips.

You nodded, exhaling shakily. “Yeah, just… give me a second.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he tried to focus on anything but how impossibly warm and tight you felt around him.

When you finally started to move, his resolve shattered.

You rocked your hips slowly at first, testing the waters, and Kento groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he muttered your name like a prayer.

You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips as you picked up the pace, your hands bracing against his chest. “Still fine?” you teased, your voice breathless but playful.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hooded, and his grip on your waist tightened. “You’re going to kill me,” he murmured, his voice low and wrecked.

You laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw as you murmured, “Good.”

Your nails dug into Kento’s chest, leaving bright red trails across his skin as you moved above him, your breaths ragged and uneven. You weren’t entirely sure whether the scratches were deliberate—your mind was far too gone for conscious thought—but the sound he made, somewhere between a groan and a growl, told you he liked it.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, anchoring you against him as he thrust up into you with a steady rhythm. He was rough in the best way—each motion deliberate and firm—but the way his thumbs stroked soothingly against your waist, how his lips occasionally pressed against your shoulder or your jaw, was impossibly tender.

“Kento,” you gasped, your head tilting back as the stretch of him made your toes curl. He filled you so perfectly, so completely, it was almost too much. Almost.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, frayed at the edges. His eyes flicked to where your bodies met, and his jaw clenched as his grip tightened. “So beautiful… fuck.”

Your hips stuttered, overwhelmed by the praise, and he didn’t miss a beat. His hands guided your movements, lifting and pulling you back down onto him as he thrust up to meet you.

You swore you saw stars.

“Oh my God, Kento,” you gasped, one of your hands sliding up to his shoulder for leverage while the other dragged down his chest again.

He groaned, his hips snapping up harder this time, as though your voice had undone whatever restraint he’d been clinging to.

“You feel… incredible,” he rasped, his breath fanning against your skin. “I don’t—” He broke off, his head tipping back as he let out a guttural sound.

You leaned down, your lips finding his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below his jaw as you murmured, “Neither do I.”

It wasn’t a lie. You felt like you were coming apart at the seams, your body burning with each drag and push, each of his little grunts and gasps.

When his hand slipped down to where your bodies met, his thumb brushing against you just so, you couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped your lips.

“Kento,” you pleaded, your body trembling against him.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice soft but sure, like he knew you were unraveling, like he’d do everything to catch you when you fell apart.

And you did.

Your body tensed, the world tipping sideways as the pleasure crashed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling. Kento wasn’t far behind, his pace growing erratic, his fingers digging into your skin as he buried himself deep, groaning your name like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

For a moment, the room was silent except for your mingled breaths, the hum of your ceiling fan faintly audible in the distance.

You collapsed onto him, your cheek pressed against his chest, and you couldn’t help the soft, giddy laugh that bubbled up from your lips. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Kento murmured, his voice hoarse, his chest still rising and falling beneath you. He wrapped an arm around your back, holding you close as if you might slip away.

After a long moment, he shifted, gently nudging you to the side before standing to retrieve a towel from your bathroom. His movements were calm, collected, but you could see the flush creeping up his neck when he returned to your bed.

You let him clean you up, his touch impossibly gentle, but when he was done, he stayed on his knees at the foot of the bed, staring at you with a strange intensity.

“What?” you asked, smiling softly.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his lips quirking slightly. “The sauna,” he said finally, his tone playful but low.

You blinked, then let out a soft laugh, rolling onto your side to face him fully.

“What about it?”

His brows arched, and he leaned forward, resting a hand against the bed as his other fingers traced a featherlight pattern along your ankle. “You… you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

You grinned, biting your bottom lip as you propped your head up on one hand. “Obviously,” you said, feigning nonchalance. “I wanted to see if I could break your composure.”

He stilled for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

Before you could reply, his grip on your ankle tightened, and in one smooth motion, he tugged you toward him.

You let out a surprised laugh, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. “Kento—”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, his eyes dark as he leaned down to hover over you. “Then that,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “was just round one.”

And before you could say another word, he kissed you, slow and deep, making it abundantly clear that the night was far from over.

*-*

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell. Something savory and rich—eggs, maybe, with a hint of butter and the faintest whiff of freshly brewed coffee.

The second thing you noticed was the emptiness of the bed.

You blinked, sunlight filtering through the curtains as you propped yourself up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around your waist. The events of the night before came rushing back in vivid flashes—Kento above you, the way he touched you, the sounds he made, the way you’d scraped your nails across his chest, entirely lost in the moment. You groaned softly, burying your face in your hands.

God, that man was going to ruin you.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you slid out of bed, pulling on a robe before padding out into the kitchen. The sight that greeted you nearly made you melt.

There he was—Nanami Kento, standing in your kitchen like he’d been doing it his whole life, shirtless and impossibly serene despite the deep red scratches that adorned his back and chest like battle scars. He worked with effortless precision, flipping something in a skillet, the muscles in his arms flexing with the movement.

Also, he was only in boxers god those thighs were so... urgh.

At his feet, Snowball and Shadow were winding around his ankles, tails high and hopeful as they meowed pitifully for attention—or food.

Probably food.

“Don’t tell me you’re spoiling them,” you said, your voice still thick with sleep as you leaned against the doorway.

He turned, his expression softening the moment he saw you.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone warm but restrained. He gestured toward the counter, where two plates were already set, the presentation impeccable. “I figured you might need something to eat after… last night.”

You arched a brow, stepping closer. “After last night, huh?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but he didn’t say anything, his focus shifting back to the skillet. You could feel your cheeks warming as you approached him, your gaze trailing over his back.

The scratches stood out starkly against his otherwise flawless skin, and a tiny part of you felt guilty. The rest of you, however, was doing mental cartwheels because—holy hell—this man looked good.

“Breakfast and you fed the cats?” you teased, noting the two empty bowls on the floor.

“They were insistent,” he replied, glancing down at the felines, who were still meowing at him like he owed them more. “Persistent little things.”

You crossed your arms, watching him with a mix of amusement and awe. “Do you do this for every woman you sleep with, or am I just special?”

He turned off the burner, setting the skillet aside before meeting your gaze. “You’re special,” he said simply, his tone so matter-of-fact it made your heart lurch.

Damn it.

You were already planning the logistics of keeping him forever. Sure, you didn’t have a basement, but you had a spare room. Maybe a cage? No, too kinky—he’d just need some convincing. Legalities could come later.

As if reading your thoughts, he stepped closer, wiping his hands on a dish towel before cupping your cheek with one hand. “I hope you’re hungry,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“For food, or for you?” you asked, smirking.

His ears turned faintly pink, and he cleared his throat, stepping back to gesture toward the table. “Both, I hope.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved to sit down, your heart feeling inexplicably light. The man could fuck like a god, sure, but he also made perfect scrambled eggs, fed your cats, and looked at you like you hung the stars.

This wasn’t just dangerous.

This was outright criminal.

As you took your first bite, you glanced at him, already seated across from you with a mug of coffee in hand. “You’re too good to be true, you know that?”

He tilted his head, his gaze soft but searching. “I could say the same about you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, sneaking a glance at Snowball and Shadow, who had both taken up positions near his feet.

And you knew right then, that you'd marry him.

A/N: hehe i hope this was alright, i am TRYING to write half decent smut.

EDIT: I DIDNT KNOW BUT LILLIES ARE TOXIC TO CATS!!!!! don't give lillies to people with cats!!!!!! do not!!!!!!!!! (i've changed, it to roses, but initially it was lillies)

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luimagines · 3 days ago

Text

PALWORLD Meets the Chain

Another Commission!

They wanted Twilight, Wild, and Sky with a Reader who comes from Palworld/interacting with the Pals. I hope I delivered it well enough because I know nothing of Palworld. Friends had to be consulted.

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Content under the cut!

Wild

Wild was fascinated.

There were no other words to describe what he was feeling. He knew, to a degree, that there were animals that one could train and use to help out with day to day life but you… You took it somehow to a whole other level.

The creature that followed you was a lot like the foxes that he saw in his world but the tail was concerningly on fire.

Wild watched you from the sidelines at the beginning. It didn’t last for very long. Without a word from anyone, you’d need only to snap your fingers and the little fire fox would run away, only to return with firewood, placed neatly into a pile by his foot.

“Sorry,” You’d say every time. “They like to be helpful. I didn’t think they’d pick on that you were about to start dinner yet.”

“It’s fine,” Wild would play along. “I don’t mind it. It saves the rest of us the trouble.”

Moving the little pile of wood was easy enough. Setting the stones around them for a proper fireplace was child’s play. Wild reached into his Sheikah Slate for some flint and a dagger to spark a small light. Without warning, the little fox had sneezed and set the little pile of wood into a small blaze.

Wild had froze, staring with awe at the sight in front of him. “...Well that was convenient.”

The little fox looked proud of itself.

You laughed on the sidelines as the little fox-like creature trotted back up to your side. Wild watched as you pet the furry friend on the head, giving him little scratches behind the ear with a small giggle on your lips as you did so. His finger slips in his distraction and he nicks the tip of his thumb with his knife.

Biting back the curse before anyone could notice, he bit his nail and quickly took care of the sharp stinging pain before blood would weep from the cut.

“Are you ok, Champion?” You asked him, turning to him after the commotion he’s caused.

“Oh, yeah, of course, never better.” He lies with ease. It’s a shame he’s such an obvious liar. Wild’s left ear twitched at the thought. He’s not fond of being caught in broad daylight, however, so he’s quick to change the subject. “What did you want for dinner?”

“Anything would suffice,” You said with a dazzling smile that left Wild momentarily distracted. He failed to notice that the little fox was slowly making its way back to Wild. “You know I’m not picky. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to make. You’re a great cook.”

He tries to give you his flattest look, but the mirth is still on his lips. “I appreciate the compliment but that doesn’t really help me with ideas.” Taking out the cutting board, Wild looked through his slate for a moment, trying to think of what he could make on such short notice. It had been a while since they’d stocked up on food. He was running low. “Chicken?”

He took out a few pieces and placed them on the cutting board. “And come potatoes and carrots?”

“Works for me!” You cheered.

“Perfect.” Wild grinned and began to take out as many potatoes as his hands could carry.

“How come you never ask us what we want to eat?” Warrior called out from somewhere behind him. “We can give you ideas too you know.”

“I don’t need to ask you,” Wild deadpans, switching to the carrots. “You lot just yell at me what you want to eat while we walk or in the middle of battle.”

“You could still do us the courtesy of asking us-”

“Wild look out!” You cried.

Wild perked up but it was too late. A flash of orange zipped past his leg and away from the cooking fire, sitting itself as far as possible to enjoy the stolen treat. Wild looked back to the cutting board at once and scowled.

“It stole the chicken!” He shouted, outraged and indignant.

You started laughing.

Twilight

Twilight liked to consider himself a man who wasn’t afraid of anything.

When shadows overtook his homeland, he didn’t want his fear to override his need for justice. His loyalty to his friends was second to none and wasn’t about to sit back and allow anything bad to happen to the people he cared about.

When the dust had settled and the light came back, he wasn’t as surprised as perhaps he should have been when the first portal appeared. Without thinking much about the consequences, he went through it, assured that whatever was about to meet him on the other side was messing with things it shouldn’t.

Which brought him to this moment.

A large dog-like creature growled at him, poised to attack at any moment.

He nearly snarled back, reaching behind to grab his sword. Twilight never liked the idea of hurting animals but he wasn’t about to let this canine have his way with him. The creature was larger than he was as a wolf. The maw, legs, tail, and second portion of the mane were white. The rest of the beast was as black as night.

“No!” You screamed from the other side of the trail. “Don’t hurt my Direhowl!”

“How about he doesn’t hurt me instead?” Twilight yelled back, not once taking his eyes off of the Direhowl in front of him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You say again, running up to him and taking the beast by the scruff of the neck. “I thought he wouldn’t be like this after a while but I guess it’s because you’re a new face. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t he’d be as sorry as you are.” Twilight bared his teeth ever so slightly.

“Bad dog!” You shout.

Both Twilight and the Direhowl perked up at the words and turned to look at you. You were glaring down at the creature, who, to Twilight’s amusement, began to look rather sheepish. His amusement quickly turned to subtle embarrassment when he realized that he was just as affected by your tone as the canine in front of him.

Twilight put his sword back in its sheath.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Twilight patted down his clothes and rubbed his palms. “If that’s everything, I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Yeah… Yeah, good idea. Again, I’m really sorry about all this-”

He holds up his hand. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done. Just keep a tighter leash on him.”

He leaves it at that, walking far away to be out of earshot. Without thinking twice, Twilight takes out the shadow crystal and transforms into his wolf body. As per usual, his senses change. Colors were no longer as vibrant, his sense of smell strengthened tenfold, his hearing tripled in range, and his vision both sharpened and lowered to the ground.

He began his trip around the perimeter checking for various signs of mischief or danger if possible. It was old hat for him and he thanked the golden three above that there was nothing to report back on once his check was complete.

That is until he heard a now familiar growl.

He growled back without question, poising his body onto the ground to strike if the Direhowl tried anything. “Oh stop it!” He snarled. “You’re not the biggest beast here.”

“Big words for a tiny dog.” The voice responded. It was deeper than Twilight anticipated for his wolf ears. The Direhowl walked in front of him. “Am I supposed to feel threatened?”

“If you kill me, the others will never forgive you.” Twilight tries a different approach. Because yes, he was, in fact, bigger than him even in this form. “And they’ll take your human and kick them out for the group for treachery.”

That seems to set the Direhowl back a few steps. His loyalty was also unquestionable.

“They wouldn’t.”

“They would.”

A pregnant pause followed before the Direhowl sat down instead. “You’re the one they call Rancher.”

Twilight followed his example and sat down as well with a nod. “I am.”

“...I don’t like you.” The Direhowl glares. “But my human likes you. So I suppose that’s enough to save your skin.”

Twilight had to fight not to roll his eyes. “Charming. I’m forever grateful.”

Sky

“This is awesome!” You shout as you fly through the skies around Skyloft.

Sky laughed and followed you, playfully getting a bit closer than strictly necessary. The heat of your bird was undeniable. Sky could feel the heat of the feathers on his cheek. His loftwing was off-put, unsure about the lack of safe space from the creature beside it.

You pushed off, giving him space to fly in the direction with an indignant squawk. “Hey!”

Sky laughed.

Laughing yourself, you also push him in the air, his loftwing banking left to keep a safe distance between the two of you. “Hey now!” Sky shouted, a large smile on his face. “That’s not fair. Are you trying to set us on fire?”

It’s a tease. He’s well aware that he started it.

Without replying, you bank off to the right and land your bird on one of the many smaller islands around Skyloft. Sky followed you, landing a considerable distance away so that your bird didn’t bother his loftwing. You had warned him before you both set off for the flight that he was aggressive and prone to attack on sight.

As much as Sky trusted you and trusted your judgment, he didn’t want any harm coming to his loftwing.

“Was he getting tired?” Sky asked once the birds were settled. He tossed some treats to distract the loftwing and keep his energy up before jogging to close the distance. “I have extra fruits if that’s what he eats.”

The bird hissed as Sky got close. He paused in his tracks, not taking his eyes off of the volatile bird.

“No, no, no,” You wave him off with a slightly embarrassed smile. “He’s a ragnahawk. I found him living in a volcano and his kind only eats rocks. I have a few in my bag.”

“I’m sorry-” Sky reels back for a moment. “Did I just hear you correctly?”

“Yes. Rocks.” You giggle. “Don’t worry, he has the stomach to handle it.”

“...Right.” Sky awkwardly pockets the snacks once more. Clearing his throat, Sky looked up at the red bird as you tossed it rocks once at a time. He admired the feathers. The colors were much like those of his loftwing’s but the tips of the wings were completely yellow with black lines on the edges. The sickening crunching sound was a little offputting but there was an unmistakable birdy joy as it ate its treats. “So long he’s being taken care of, I suppose.”

“What does your bird eat?” You pocketed the last of the “snacks” and turned back to Sky. “I doubt it’s rocks like this beast.” You use your eyes to gesture back to the ragnahawk with a bright smile on your face.

Sky shrugs. “Fruit mostly. But they live on their own islands. So we’re not entirely sure what it is that they eat. We just know they usually accept our treats when we give them. Each one has their own taste, though. They’re a bit picky like that.”

You nod. The information sounds familiar. “Each has their own personality. I can respect that.”

The silence turns comfortable as you both look out to the expanse of the Skyloft and the surrounding islands. You let out a wistful sigh and step forward. “Your world is beautiful. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see anything like it.”

“It’s not much,” Sky smiles bashfully. “The surface world has much more to offer than our little island.”

“Nonsense, I like this.” You turned to him. “Will you show me more?”

“Of course! Is your bird ready to fly again?”

“Ready whenever you are!”

Sky laughed, jumping off of the ledge “Perfect! Let’s go!”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu sky #lu twilight #lu wild

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idciminlove · 15 hours ago

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FIGHTER.

Part One - X

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings- debts, threats, anxiety, fighting, anger issues, exhaustion, allusions to sexual harassment, chronic illness, etc.

Fighting is all you've ever known. It's all you've ever been good at, and when desperate times call for desperate measures, you wind up fighting for your life in the Squid Games.

But then you meet Dae Ho, the only person who can get you to lower your fists.

With his help, maybe, just maybe, the both of you can get out alive.

The lights in the ring are blinding, ugly cheap LEDs hanging from the ceiling that make your eyes sting. You ignored it, along with the familiar stenches that filled your nose- booze and cigarettes, blood and sweat.

Your head throbbed in pain as you hardly managed to block the punch from the woman in front of you, your opponent. Sweat dripped down your nose. Exhaustion and fatigue ached in your bones. But you knew you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t lose. You wouldn’t be able to afford it.

You clenched your gloved fists, holding them close to you and shuffling your feet. You furrowed your brows and took a shaky breath. Focus.

Your opponent lunged at you, swinging, but you fully blocked her hit this time, returning it with one of your own. She blocked it. You pushed against her arms, keeping her focus on your hands and waiting for that split second of vulnerability, so you could rear back and kick her in the side, causing her to double over and clutch her stomach. You kicked her again and she fell to the ground. The referee started counting, and you watched as she grasped her side, struggling to get up and catch her breath.

She didn’t get up. The referee grabbed your arm, raising it into the air to declare you as the winner. You could hardly even hear the cheers around you, too focused on the girl you had beaten, gazing at her over your shoulder. She was still on the ground, gasping for air and sobbing in pain. Guilt and concern washed over you in waves. You hoped you hadn’t done any severe damage. From the looks of it, she had a broken rib or two at least, and it was all your fault.

You did that. You caused that.

–

Fighting was the only thing you’ve ever been good at. It’s all you’ve wanted to do since you were little, following in your father’s footsteps from his career as a professional in the MMA. You were basically raised in the ring. It was your sanctuary. Your safe space, where you could channel all your emotions and embrace them. You loved it.

Of course, that was back when you were fighting for fun. But now, you’re fighting for your life.

It was awful. You hated fighting in these shitty underground rings, with little to no rules or regulations, being leered at by older men while you fought tooth and nail, desperately needing to get by.

You tapped your foot against the counter impatiently, gazing at the older man sitting across from you in the makeshift bank clerk’s office. He was chubby, with greying hair and an ever growing bald spot on the back of his head. You weren’t exactly a fan, but he was the one who took the bets, collected all the money, and gave you a decent cut of it. So you were patient, letting him finish with his online poker game, knowing that once he was done, you would get paid.

“Here’s your cut.” He slid an envelope to you through the opening under the glass window. You tore it open, counting the bills.

You frowned as you finished, placing the envelope back on the counter. “You’re short, by a million at least.”

The older man didn’t even bother to look up from the monitor, leaning back in his seat and taking another puff from his cigar. “No, that’s the right amount.”

“Bullshit.”

“Listen sweetheart, money’s been tight ever since the cops busted that underground casino down the road, and now they’re trying to sniff around my place too. Not to mention people have been going missing, probably on the run or lying low. That’s the best you’re going to do for a while until everything calms down.”

You scoffed. “I could make more money fighting with a hand tied behind my back. Speaking of, what the hell was that back there? That girl you had me fight was way too new. She could’ve died.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. You won and you got your money. If you don’t like it, you can go somewhere else. And if you need the money that badly, I’m sure there’s much easier things you can do to get it.” He sneered, his eyes wandering your body.

Disgusting prick.

You didn’t answer him, just grabbed your money and stormed off.

–

You couldn’t remember the last time your mother had been healthy. It had been years. She had been overlooked by the lesser doctors, the only ones you could afford with how little you had, appointment after appointment of misdiagnosis and lack of treatment causing her health to decline and progress into the late stages of pancreatic cancer, finally diagnosed almost a full year after she first got sick.

One of the strongest people you’ve ever known now looked so frail and weak, lying in front of you in the hospital bed, her body thin, bags under her eyes, her cheeks sunken from malnutrition, a side effect from the chemotherapy. The only time she didn’t seem in pain was when she rested, looking so peaceful, breathing gentle breaths, followed by the soft beep from the monitor. You reached over and took her hand, holding it softly.

She awoke from the contact, opening her eyes slowly and smiling at you. “Come to visit again, hm?”

You nodded. She gave your hand a weak squeeze, gazing out the window, noticing that there was a considerable amount of daylight left. “Shouldn’t you be working right now?”

“I got the day off.” You lied.

“Oh really?” She pulled her hand from yours, pinching your chin where a noticeable bruise had started to form, probably from today’s fight. You winced. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice this? Or the cuts on your knuckles? I’m not an idiot. What happened to your job as a waitress? Don’t tell me you got fired already.”

You sighed. “It wasn’t my fault. That place was hardly paying me anything anyway. It wasn’t worth it.”

You tried to work normal jobs. You really did. But no matter what, something always went wrong.

Your most recent venture was waitressing at some shitty dive bar. One of the patrons ran his hand under your skirt, causing you to throw him through a table and almost break his arm. Most of your jobs went like that, with someone always pushing you over the edge and causing you to snap.

You always have had an awful temper. Your Dad liked to say you had fire running through your veins, bubbling up and boiling over. As you got older, you hoped it would get better, but life just got harder and harder, and it made everything worse.

“You promised me that you would stop fighting. I’m not going to be around forever, you know. You have to take care of yourself. I need to know that you’re going to be okay when I’m gone.” Her touch went soft, stroking her fingers over the bruise before pulling away, grimacing in discomfort as she lied back.

“I know, but you don’t have to worry about me, Mama. Right now, it’s my job to take care of you. I just need a little more money and then I can pay for your next treatment. Only a few more fights and-”

She shook her head. “You’re always so damn stubborn, just like your father. Having to do things your own way and never letting anyone help.”

You gazed down at your lap, bowing your head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She sighed softly, reaching over for your hand again. “I’m hard on you because I care. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left. Please, promise me you’ll be safe. If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

She was begging, and pleading. You could see the desperation, the love, the need in her eyes. You gave her hand a soft squeeze. “Okay, Mama. I promise. I’ll be safe.”

She fell asleep not long after that, your conversation probably wearing her out. You made her worry so much, sometimes, you think it would be better if you didn’t visit at all. Maybe she would be better off without you. But you knew that wasn’t true. She was your mother and your best friend. She was all you had now. You needed her, and she needed you.

You pressed a small kiss to her forehead, before you got up and left.

–

You sat back on your bench as you waited for the train to arrive. The day had been long and dreadful, and all you wanted to do was to lay in your bed. Your bones ached with fatigue, your muscles burning and sore, and there was still that throbbing headache you had from your last fight. You prayed it wasn’t another concussion, that was the last thing you needed right now. No matter what, you knew you had to push through it.

Your phone buzzed. You gazed at the cracked screen, feeling a dread pool in your stomach. You knew exactly who it was.

Unknown: Your monthly payment is due tomorrow at 8. Don’t forget

You: Can’t we push it back? I need a little more time

Unknown: No

Unknown: Same meeting place as last time, tomorrow at 10. 8 million and no less. Be there and bring the money or else.

The last thing you needed right now was the loan sharks breathing down your neck too. You ran your fingers over the envelope in your pocket. All the money you had saved for your mother was once again going to have to go down the drain. Snatched away by those damn bastards that have been terrorizing you for a better half of your life now, blaming you for a debt that wasn’t even yours.

“Fuck!” You shouted, kicking over a nearby trash can. Frustration overwhelmed you, along with anxiety, desperation, and hopelessness. You ran your hands through your hair, feeling the tears well up in your eyes, trying to catch your breath and calm down

You stared at the ground. A pair of polished shoes stepped into your vision. “Rough day?”

You looked up at the man standing before you. Tall and handsome, nice suit and tie, briefcase in hand…a salesman. He offered you a charming smile. “Maybe I could be of assistance.”

#dae ho squid game #squiid games s2 #squid games fanfiction #squid game season 2 #kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #dae ho #player 388 x reader #player 388 #the salesman #squidgam salesman #squid game #squid game fic

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yoonmetogether · 2 days ago

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Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 2

pairing: gambler/drug dealer!yoongi x grad student!fem!reader, surprise pairings rating: mature MDNI! 18+ only. Blank/ageless blogs will be blocked!!! genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to e2l mafia/bodyguard au summary: he shows up a second time. but does he stay? warnings/tags: oral (f. receiving), usage of sl*t, motorcycle riding, angst, bantering, dialogue heavy, smoking, implied drug dealing/usage, tiny bit of fluff, flashback of secondary school relationships, referenced underage drinking wc: 12k 😭 im sorryyyy huuuuuge ginormous humongous thank you to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo for her extraordinary commentary and feedback that never fails to make me smile, as well as @syllviere for her emotional support lol and bouncing ideas with me for this fic. could not have done this without y'all and I’m so grateful for your friendship <333

prologue l ch 1. play nice l prelude. strangers 1/3 l prelude. 2/3 l prelude. 3/3 l

Boys. They’re so messy.

All four of you had been in the hotel room for only 15 minutes but already the floors and counters were littered with beer cans and food containers. Jin would’ve had an aneurysm if he’d seen how quickly things had turned into chaos.

You were sitting on the edge of one of the beds, sulking as you watched your brother get ready. He was choosing which snapback better matched his outfit while Tae leaned over the sink in the bathroom, smearing a charcoal pencil under his waterlines. Jimin, on the other hand, was on the bed opposite you, laying on his back with his phone in the air, playing some game. He’d been the first to get ready.

“Can’t I go? Please?” you whined.

“No,” Jungkook huffed, saying your name in a harsh tone.

“Why not?”

“Because Jin would skin me alive if he found out I took you to an underground poker game.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Tae intervened, stepping out of the bathroom, flashing you a wink. “You’re gonna cave just like you always do, so save yourself the trouble. You know Jin hyung would never do anything to his two precious babies.”

“You’re too nice to her,” Jungkook grumbled, fixing his small gauges.

“She’s so cute, I can’t help it!” Tae exclaimed, your brother rolling his eyes.

“She’s just my lame, annoying sister.” Your jaw dropped, entirely hurt, and Jimin sat up to look between you and your brother with a frown on his face. If only you could hug him without Jungkook throwing a fit. His hugs always made you feel better.

“You’re so mean!” Tae came to your defense. “She loves you and that’s why she wants to go everywhere with you. Maybe you should be nicer.”

Jungkook shook his head defiantly, narrowly missing the pillow you chucked at him. But then he looked at you with a grimace, and you shot up on your feet with a smile. The familiar look of reluctance.

“Don’t wander off or be a pain in my ass,” Jungkook pointed a stern finger at you to which you stuck your tongue out before giddily bouncing over to the bathroom where Tae was finishing up with his hair.

“Thanks, Tae,” you murmured softly as you stepped up next to him.

“Of course, little angel. I always got your back.” You smiled at his soft elbow nudge in your side. “He’s really the lame and annoying one. Not you.”

“I heard that!” Jungkook called out in an offended tone.

“Good!” Tae shot back, grinning widely as you giggled. “Go get ready. We have to leave soon to catch the bus.”

****

The bar was musty, smelling of cigarettes, gross men, and booze, and the dim lights had a green smokey film floating underneath, creating a spooky atmosphere.

“Guys, do you really think we should be here?” Jimin asked nervously, wringing his hands. You stared, wanting to hold one of them.

Tae turned around from where he was standing beside your brother and hopped over with a smile, hooking an arm around Jimin’s neck.

“Aw, it’s okay, Baby J. We have my big pitbull to protect us, remember?” Tae jutted a thumb over his shoulder at Jungkook. Jimin shoved him away.

“How about this?” Tae booped his nose, and you found it cute the way Jimin wrinkled it in response. “When I win, I’ll use the money to replace your shit car.”

You stifled a laugh as Jimin kicked at his shin and Tae skipped away with a laugh, stopping beside your brother who was rolling his eyes at your antics. But he smiled shyly when Tae slung an arm around his waist.

Jimin looked grateful when you hooked your elbows together, both of you sparing a look at your brother to make sure he didn’t notice. Jimin quickly pinched your cheek that flushed under his touch, heart racing when he soothed it with his thumb.

You’d get around to telling them eventually.

Jungkook got in a small argument with a server who thought his ID was a fake, and her eyes widened in shock when your brother turned around to reveal the family emblem permanently drawn on the back of his neck, hidden by the lid of his hat. Your stomach churned at the sight. In a few years, you’d have to get the same tattoo. The very reason why you hated crows.

The server ran off to retrieve the owner, who walked briskly towards your group, eyes hardened.

“Do you know what the boss would do to me if he found out I let you kids in here?” The bar owner exclaimed in a hushed tone, looking around as if Jin was lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Jungkook shrugged, adjusting the snapback. “Besides, I just turned 19, so I’m legally allowed to be here.”

“What about your friends?” Your brother glanced back at the three of you. Jimin looked like he was about to throw up and Tae consolingly rubbed his back.

“He’ll be 19 in December, and they have IDs saying they’re old enough.” Jungkook pointed at Tae, and then at you and Jimin.

The man nodded at you and you did your best to maintain a calm demeanor. “Even her?”

“She’s my kid sister, she goes everywhere with me. I’m basically her permanent babysitter.” You flipped him off.

“You’re making me walk a tight line, kid,” the owner sighed. “But alright, come on.”

“You’re the man,” Jungkook grinned, looking back and beckoning you three to follow him.

“Hopefully not a dead one anytime soon.” Your brother laughed as he walked past him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Nah, you’ll be good.”

As Jungkook led the way through the bar towards some stairs in the back, ignoring the side-glances you all received from the grown men playing cards, you noticed Tae looking around, scanning every table, every face.

“Who are you looking for?” You asked when your brother got caught up ordering a drink.

“Oh, an old friend of mine from back home.”

“Is that why you wanted to come here?”

“Yeah," he nodded with a wistful frown. "It was a long shot but I still wanted to see if I could run into him. He brought me a couple of years ago and taught me how to play.”

A sad look appeared on his face, so you didn’t think he wanted to talk anymore about it.

At the poker table downstairs, Jungkook sat down among the men like he owned the place, Tae right beside him. You pulled up a chair to sit behind them as cards were dealt and chips stacked. Jimin disappeared into the bathroom and didn’t come out for a while.

When the first river was dealt, Tae leaned back to whisper into your ear,

“Remember, it’s all in the eyes, little angel. You can always tell someone’s true feelings in their eyes.”

You nodded, intently watching Tae and your brother play, paying attention to the other men as well, trying to catch their tells.

Jimin returned with a tight smile on his face, and you both squeezed onto the chair, taking his hand into your lap since Jungkook was too engrossed in the play.

Your brother won a few rounds, smug as ever, but Tae won more and just gave Jungkook subtle nudges of his shoulder and whispers in his ear. You reminded yourself to tease him about the blush on his face later.

When the game ended, Tae emerged victorious, and all four of you celebrated with some shots at the bar, Jungkook making you vow that you’d never tell Jin.

Back home, Tae kept his promise to Jimin and bought him a nicer car. Still old and used, but less prone to breaking down.

For your birthday, he gifted you a keyboard, and it became one of your most prized possessions. With it, you composed a piece for Jimin who recorded and saved it on his phone, often playing it in his car whenever you two got some alone time, holding hands over the gearshift while you avoided looking at each other.

Some of your favorite memories. Ones that shaped you, seared a forever nostalgic hole in your heart. Ones that feel like they existed in another lifetime. Ones you’d give anything to relive.

The hotel room is smaller than you thought.

The queen-sized bed is located in the middle of the room, facing the terrace that has a clear view of the ocean. Around the corner of the foyer and hallway closet, is the bathroom; on the other side of that is a small nook with a mini fridge underneath an L-shaped counter, two armchairs on either side. It’s cozy. But cold. Quiet. You’re getting tired of being alone.

Your bags are wet, so you unpack everything to check that nothing’s ruined, rushing to get out your sketchbook. Flipping through the pages, you’re relieved that there’s no water damage. That would be very fucking unfortunate and you don’t need a panic attack right now.

After being caught in the rain, stuck in a basement with greasy men and cigarette smoke, and fucked in a cleaning closet, a hot shower is just what you need. But you don’t scrub your skin too hard. His touch still lingers.

You can still feel the tingle left by his fingers digging into your hips, hand wrapped around your wrist, mouth molded against yours. You don’t want to lose that feeling. Even though you lost him.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs. Why the fuck did you let that man go? You know, in your heart of hearts, that you’ll never meet someone like him again. You won his money - he didn’t owe you a goddamn thing and yet he came after you when he thought you were in danger. That had to mean something, right?

The thought of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up makes your hands feel clammy, despite the steamy shower stall. Who knows what intentions those men had, aside from forcing you to give them the money back. You can fight, but your odds were against you with a group of vengeful thugs. And you don’t have your knife - it would’ve gotten confiscated at the airport and it means too much to you to risk that.

But you do have another weapon, pretty much guaranteeing that you could’ve walked out of there alive. With one flash of the back of your neck, those guys would’ve backed off and run for the hills.

You don’t mull over if Yoongi would join them; instead, spend the rest of your shower fuming, hot water incomparable to the burning in your veins. Because of him, mostly. For being such a jerk even though you didn’t do anything wrong, even though you tried being nice to him. For acting like you’d been the bane of his existence but still fucking you. And for sending you into a confusing whirlwind but not leaving you any time to catch up. And still making you want him.

Maybe you’ll just go to bed and forget him. Do some sketches, get a headstart on upcoming assignments, and go home tomorrow pretending that there isn’t some strange crack in your soul left by a man you just met.

You’re just about to start your skin care routine when three knocks rap on the door. You freeze. It’s almost the middle of the night, who the fuck- Oh, shit. Wait. It can’t be those guys. Wrapped up in a robe, you tiptoe out of the bathroom, mind racing as you formulate a plan if it is them. Pressing against the door, thinking about the possibility of shimmying your way off the balcony since you’re only on the second floor, you peer into the peep hole, heart flatlining when there isn’t a group of thugs outside, but a familiar mop of orange hair.

What the hell is he doing here? Whatever the reason is, you’re way too relieved that it’s him. Teetering on elated, everything you’d come to peace with in the shower wiped away at the sight of him standing outside your door, hands in his pockets, staring down at his shoes.

You swing open the door just as he turns for the stairs, like he’s giving up. His eyes are wide when he faces you, narrowing as they fall on your robe-covered body.

“You just keep turning up, don’t you? Were you a stray cat in a past life?” You tease, snickering at his glare as you lean on the door. He sighs, stuffs his hands further in his jacket, glares harder at the threshold.

“I lied to you about the buses.” You smile softly at his confession.

“I know. They run till midnight.”

“And I don’t have a friend’s place to crash.”

“I figured that.”

He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t tell you what he’s here for, if he wants something. You already told him you’d give him money, you have more than enough, but you’ll be disappointed if that’s the only reason why he’s at your door.

“So, what? You showed up just to tell me that you lied?”

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head before snapping up to meet your gaze. The fire in his eyes is blazing. “For this.”

And suddenly he’s crowding your space, large, warm hands holding the side of your face. Again. And you barely have time to blink much less breathe before his lips crash onto yours. You thank your lucky stars.

He backs you into the wall behind the open door, and your heart runs in your chest when he starts kissing you just as hungrily as before. But this time, he makes the effort to angle your face with his in a way that he can kiss you passionately, with purpose, with heat, with his tongue meeting yours, exploring between your lips, into your mouth, like he’s trying to steal your breath away and you let him, kiss him back with equal fervor. He kisses you deeply enough that you can feel the effects all the way down to your toes, almost to the point of having an out of body experience, nothing you’ve ever felt before. He kisses you like he has no intention of stopping.

And you don’t want him to, but when you lift your arms to loop around his waist, bring him closer, his jacket is cool and wet, and his body vibrates beneath the layers. You break the kiss to catch your breath and tell him he feels cold, but apologies tumble through his swollen, pink lips.

“Shit, I don’t know what I was thinking, I should-” He takes a step back and you think he’s going to run again, so you grab the side of his damp jacket to keep him in place. Keep him near you.

“You’re shivering.”

He stiffens, but the back of his shoulders visibly tremble. You move past him to close the door, gesturing for him to take off his shoes.

“Do you want to shower?” He regards you for a moment, shoulders tense, and then nods, once. Directing him to the bathroom, you offer a small, warm smile but just as he reaches for the handle and opens the door a crack, you stretch your arm to land a hand on the frame, effectively blocking him.

“Admit that you think I’m pretty first.”

His eyebrows furrow, he blinks, and then swivels on his heels to head for the front door. Your loud laugh echoes after him.

“Have fun sleeping in the rain!”

He exhales a frustrated breath and another snicker fills the space in response as he turns back around.

“Come on, it’s not like you’ll be lying. For once.”

“Wow, pretentious, much?” he quips.

“Stubborn, much?”

His lip curls. “Annoying brat.”

“Grumpy jerk.” It’s enchanting, how quickly you match each other’s energy, hostile but with no real bite.

He scowls and tilts his head up to the ceiling, like he’s wondering what he’s gotten himself into. And your delighted grin glows at him.

“So, what’ll it be?” His glare flickers to you with a piercing glint.

“You’re pretty,” he grumbles, and even though you heard him, you lean forward, cupping your ear, wanting to hear it loud and clear.

“Hm? What was that?”

He speaks through clenched teeth. “You’re really fucking pretty. So there.”

“Dude, why do you look like you’re about to pop a vein?” You cackle and he runs a hand down his face.

“If it makes things any better, you’re not too bad looking yourself. I’d even go so far as to say you’re handsome. Like really fucking handsome,” You mock him and grin when he glowers at you. You nod to the bathroom.

“Get in there.” Twirling around, you just miss the way his cheeks tinge a subtle shade of pink.

As the door closes, your cheeks buzz with a dopey smile you can’t drop, color painting a part of your soul that’s been dormant for a long time, awoken when he showed up on your doorstep because he wanted to kiss you again.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” you call out. “Would you mind handing me my clothes? They’re on the sink.”

“Haven’t I done you enough favors?” From his one small moment of vulnerability, you forgot that he’s a fucking asshole.

With a huff, you knock on the door rapidly, holding your breath as the handle clicks and the door swiftly swings open to reveal Yoongi’s dark, narrowed eyes. Are you disappointed that he’s only dressed down to a black-tee, still in his jeans? You’ll never admit it. One more glance would show you that they’re unbuttoned, belt removed. The same jeans that were smacking on your ass back in the-

“Were you hoping I’d walk in on you naked?”

He cocks his head with a slight smirk. “I was hoping you’d walk in here naked.”

Oh, he’s smooth. Pulse dancing, you school your expression to conceal how flustered you are.

“Maybe I would’ve if you were nice. Can I have my clothes?” You hold out your hand and he glances down at it, a sigh leaving him as he brings his arm into view, passing over your sleep clothes. You snatch them with a cheeky smile and walk away to change. The door doesn’t shut until you’re around the corner.

Fully dressed and pretty much ready for bed, jet lag starting to get the best of you, you’re sitting at the white counter next to the window, re-checking all the designs in your sketchbooks when the door opens and Yoongi’s bare feet pad on the floor. You tense with the urge to turn around and see whether or not he’s appearing as what you’re imagining in your mind. Towel wrapped low on his hips, chest bare, body lithe and sleek and beautiful. When he passes behind you, the air around you thickens with his musk, the clinging scent of hotel soap and shampoo. Your legs cross under the table.

He stands adjacent to your seat, and you sneak a glance up at him peering down at your sketchbook, shaking a small towel over his wet hair. But he’s wearing a damn robe, sash tugged tightly around his waist, his clavicles and center of his chest just barely peeking out, two chains accentuating it. One is medium-length and studded with tiny diamonds, the other a long collection of stainless steel beads that hold two dog tags from his military service.

You retract your gaze and pretend to draw, cheek warming against your fist. He’s so attractive, it’s not fair.

“Are you an architect or something?” he asks as he drops in the seat across from you, towel falling around his neck. His tone sounds accusatory, like he can’t fathom you being in that kind of profession, but you don’t take it personally. You figure it’s just another one of his asshole-isms.

“No, I’m just minoring,” you reply without looking at him. “These are some sketches I’m playing with for my thesis project in the spring.”

“How proactive. They’re, um,” he clears his throat. “They’re pretty decent.”

He’s still leaning over, so with a bashful smile, you slowly push the book to his side of the table, permission for him to examine more closely.

“Thanks. My friends and I are talking about opening up an architecture firm after we graduate, and they’re looking at me to take care of the business portion of it.”

“Hm.” He sounds indifferent, but he glimpses at you while you talk, so you think he’s at least listening. As soon as you stop, though, his eyes return to your sketchbook. And he’s not just flipping through them. He takes his time with each page, each design, even the messier ones with all the frustrated scribbles and eraser marks. Sometimes he leans in and squints to get a closer look at the smaller details and… No one has looked at your pages like that. Not even your friends. Or brothers. The only exception is your professors, but that’s for a grade. Something glimmers in your chest. Something warms.

You change the subject so you don’t dwell on it.

“What did you major in?”

Your question sparks a slight frown on his face as he flips a page. “I didn’t go to college. Not for me.”

You nod in understanding. “Then, what do you do? Or you just gamble for a living?”

“You and all these questions.”

“Fine. Be boring,” You huff, crossing your arms.

“I work on cars,” he reluctantly mutters. Perking up at that, you sit a little straighter.

“You’re a mechanic?”

He hums in acknowledgment and you launch into a mainly one-sided conversation about your favorite makes and models, wishing you could tell him about your brother’s extensive car and bike collection. You smile when he at least indulges you in his current vehicle choice - an Elantra. Ooh. Sporty.

You’re a tad too giddy when you ask, “Do you race?”

“I can. But I don’t.”

“Maybe one day I’ll beat you at that too.” He just sighs and shakes his head, and you wear your shit-eating grin as the conversation comes to a stand-still. Now that you’re not sure what else to say and he doesn’t seem too keen on entertaining more questions, you wait for that awkward tension to settle between you but it never comes.

It’s just… quiet. Except for the sound of your breathing as you ponder explanations for why your heart is pounding that doesn’t have to do with the man sitting across from you, still engrossed in your sketches.

It’d be nice if he gave you an indication that he was interested in doing anything besides this and kissing you, but you suppose the fact that he accepted your invitation to shower instead of just fucking you in the foyer and hitting the road again is indicative of he can now at least stand being in your presence.

“So, fixing cars makes you enough to gamble a few million won away at an illegal poker ring? All in one night?”

He glances at you with a glare, flipping another page. “Okay, smart ass. What do you think I do?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you pretend to think. “Sell stuff.” He doesn’t look at you, a slight down tick at the corner of his mouth.

“Stuff.”

“Substances?” Narcotics is the word you want to say, but don’t. Scrutinizing another drawing, impassiveness covers his face.

“And would you have a problem with that?”

“Do I seem like I would have a problem with that?” His attention flits to you for a small moment and then stays down.

His silence is enough to say that he doesn’t want to talk any more about it and you won’t press him even though you’re a nosy little shit because you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. But you do want to let him know that you’re not one to judge.

If he is a dealer, you know just how easy it is to get into but so much harder to get out of.

“Well, whatever it is, shit’s tough out here, and sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do, y’know?”

He doesn’t say anything after that and so you let it go. But there’s still something else on your mind.

“Can I ask another question?”

“No,” he deadpans, and you ignore him.

“What was your plan after you dropped me off?”

He brings your book to the edge of the table and sits back in the chair.

“I was gonna go to a sauna, but I forgot I gave the rest of my cash to the cab driver.”

Your brow quirks inquisitively. “Cab? Weren’t you just on a motorcycle?”

Whole body stilling, he focuses on nothing for a moment before quietly grumbling,

“I paid him so he’d tell me where he took you.”

You gawk at him as everything sinks in. A ring of promise glows around the surface of your heart when you realize he went out of his way to find you.

To look out for you. To protect you. And expected nothing in return. Despite the fact that you kissed him, showed him you wanted more, he didn’t try to invite himself up. Just took off into the night without looking back. Like he didn’t just save your life. Like you don’t owe him for fucking stabbing someone for you.

“You really came looking for me,” you marvel. “Why?”

His jaw clenches, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“I don’t have to answer that.” Ugh, he’s so fucking difficult, with this wall around him that you desperately want to infiltrate.

“You and your attitude,” you scoff. “What’s your problem?”

When he doesn’t respond, you reach over to pull your sketchbook out of his grasp, slamming it closed on the table. You repeat your question with a harsh glare and he returns it with equal intensity.

“You,” he admits darkly, eyes hardened. “You are my problem.”

“Then what are you doing here?” His lips pull into a line and he stares at his flat hand on the table. You sit back again, dejected fingers rubbing over your sketchbook, watching him refuse to look at you.

You stand up before your brain gives the command, feet gliding around the table, heart pounding with each step, and end up next to his chair. He stares up at you with a pinch between his brows as you nudge your knee against his, and even though he looks confused, he turns away from the table to give you more room to stand in between his legs. Jet lag be damned, you dip a knuckle under his chin, holding his head up. His pupils on you are so dark, more than they’ve been all night as he doesn’t blink.

You can’t tell if he’s nervous, or scared, or upset, or a combination, similar to the complexity running in your veins.

“You’re the annoying one.” You stick a knee next to his hip, a hand on his shoulder, a pretense to lowering yourself into his lap. He cocks a brow.

“You can’t even tell me you want me.”

“You think I came back for what? A hot shower?” He says it so sarcastically, you almost laugh.

“Yeah, and a place to stay,” you murmur, resisting the temptation to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

“I would’ve figured something else out. Not my first time with nowhere to go.”

You frown at the thought of him being stuck in places where he wasn’t comfortable. Or safe. Even if he only came back so he wouldn’t end up spending a night in the rain, you would let him stay. You might put him up on the floor but at least he’d be inside.

When he doesn’t say a word, your other hand falls on his shoulders to finally settle yourself in his lap. his chest heaving in a deep breath. As you sit over his crotch, his hands flex, but remain dangling off the arms of the chair. Your eyes fall to the chains glinting on his pale chest and you hook a finger around the diamonds, lifting the small circular pendant, noticing a tiny inscription. You glance at him, silently asking for permission to study it. He just stares so you take that as a yes and lift it to get a closer look.

For my sonja, MYG

A soft smile on your lips, you drop the pendant and trail down to the tags that sit on his sternum and examine the carved information.

Huh. You have the same blood type.

“Are you dangerous, Min Yoongi?” The question pours out of your mouth, testing out his full name on your tongue. He squints at you with mirth.

“It’s a little late to ask that.”

Shrugging, your thumb runs over the metal tags, waiting for his answer.

“I’m not a stalker or a serial killer. Good enough?” It should be. But you have to be sure.

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now, right?”

A few beats of silence pass, and vines of trepidation for his truth start to creep up your spine. But then warm, calloused yet soft hands coast up the sides of your thighs to rest on your hips. The vines spark with flames, traveling over every cell of your skin, ignited by his simple touch. Trepidation becomes suspense.

“I don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it.”

The implication should scare you. That he hurts people. Maybe even does it for a living. But you know, peering deeply into his dark, brown eyes, that he isn’t a threat to you.

He stabbed someone right in front of you, and instead of being afraid like you should’ve been, you ran away with him. In the middle of the street, soaked to the bone with piercing rain, you grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him like your life depended on it.

And you’re about to do it again.

Lifting your hand to cup his cheek, your heart dips when he flinches away, ever so slightly. What the fuck has this man been through? You drop it back on his shoulder, smooth it slowly, daringly, down to his left pec, fingers under his robe. Your breath hitches when you feel how strong his chest is, throat tightening when your palm radiates with the fast rate of his heartbeat.

Too fast to be normal. Too fast to hide that he’s affected by you.

“Do you want me?” you whisper, voice scared of rejection. His jaw ticks, his hands moving to your waist, pressing you forward and down on the solid erection forming beneath you. You gasp.

He grits his next words through clenched teeth, like it’s hard for him to say them.

“I wanted you the second you sat down at that goddamn poker table.”

Just like that moment in the rain, before you got on his bike and held onto him while he drove you into safety, you don’t think before crashing your lips onto his. He opens his mouth to welcome your tongue, and you lick over it with meaning.

The two of you set in motion a greedy and lascivious rhythm of sloppy tongues and experimental grinding hips. His fingers curl into the plush of your ass, encouraging the roll of your center over his erection, ruining your shorts with arousal. He sucks on your bottom lip, moaning when your hand sneaks into his lap and boldly squeezes his twitching length.

“If I suck your dick, are you gonna leave me on the floor again?” you challenge over his mouth.

He pulls away with a frown and a cross in his brows as he looks at you silently expecting some kind of an apology. But he doesn’t even open his swollen mouth, just pushes at your waist until you stand up from his lap, and before you can question what he’s doing, he kisses you again, gripping your waist as he walks you back to the bed. Hands slipping up to your ribcage, he lowers you down, heart hammering to the surface of your chest as he holds himself above you, one hand on your side, the other pressing into the comforter next to your head.

Warmth pools in your belly as his chains fall in between your breasts, then slide to rest on the base of your throat. You smile in between his lips, lifting a hand to tangle in the links.

“You better not break my jewelry,” he utters, tongue nudging your bottom lip to encourage your mouth open, and without opening your eyes or breaking from his enticing mouth, you grab his hand and encourage it towards your breast, shirt covering your pert nipple.

He softly squeezes a handful of your tit and you arch into him with a moan, his lips between yours curving up in a smug smile. Kissing you once, twice, he drags his mouth down your jaw, to your neck that you strain so he can bruise and bite at your skin. You curse when he moves to mouth over your clothed tit, gently pulling your nipple between his teeth to test out your reaction. You bite your lip with a moan and reach up to curl your fingers in his hair, squirming when he flattens his tongue over the tiny sting.

“So sensitive,” he smizes, cocksure. He laps at your tit once more before nosing down, fingers bunching up your shirt to reveal your stomach, moan escaping you when his lips graze your bare skin.

“Is this supposed to be an apology?”

He shrugs and you roll your eyes as he stands to drag down your sweats, your lungs constricting with every inch of skin he unveils. You know he already fucked you, knows what your pussy feels like, but he hasn’t seen you yet and your cheeks heat at the thought of baring your everything to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he muses when your legs close in their bent form after he fully removes your sweats, tossing them back onto one of the chairs.

You shake your head in denial, but your eyes that refuse to open, refuse to see him staring at you, say otherwise.

“Where’s that dirty girl who wanted to get fucked in a closet by a stranger?”

“Don’t you mean slut?”

“Fine,” he smirks. “Bring back the dirty slut who practically begged me to fuck her in that closet.”

“Sure, as long as you don’t act like a prick anymore.”

Smirk falling, he averts his eyes, tilting his head to the side as his hand smoothes over your lower stomach, fingers dipping into the hem of your-

“Cute panties.”

“They’re shorts.”

“You call these shorts?” He snaps the fabric strained around your thighs. “Leaves little to the imagination.”

“Well, that’s good for you, right? Aren’t you too old to have an imagination?” He quirks a brow, lifts his head to level you with an entertained gaze.

“Says who?”

“Society,” you shrug, and he exhales an unamused huff.

“Wow, good argument. You should sign up for a debate team.”

“I was actually on one in school.”

“So why aren’t you any good?”

“Oh, shut up!” You admonish, and he snickers. If you really think about it, it’s crazy how easy it is to fall into conversation with him like this. And incredibly insane how it does really funny things to your heart.

A stuttered gasp pours from your lips when he cups your heat, rubbing his flattened fingers back and forth. You hiss when he pokes over your covered hole, panties/shorts soaked with your arousal.

“Damn, you get so wet for me,” he muses, tongue poking past his teeth as he pulls your panties to the side. Fuck, just that movement alone is enough to put a flutter in your stomach.

“A little grinding on my lap is all it takes, huh? Or do you just really like being called a slut?”

“Screw you.” His dark chuckle shamefully turning you on, he pulls back his fingers to circle feather-light around your clit. You pull your lips in and shut your eyes to lock away a moan. “We’re getting to that.” His hands slide under your ass, eyes trained on you as he pulls off your garment, and you take a deep breath when he pushes your legs apart.

“Scoot up.” With his hands holding your thighs, you wiggle your way back until your head nears the edge of the mattress, lust coursing through your blood as he lays down in between your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your bare cunt. You relax into the soft comforter as he starts off with dragging his lips on the inside of your thigh, humming as he goes along, and arousal builds at the vibrations on your skin. Glancing down at the appealing sight of his head between your legs, you’re tempted again to run your fingers through his soft locks.

“You could really use a root touch-up,” you think out loud. He huffs, breath hitting a spot on your thigh where he was sucking a small mark.

“Ah, hell. Can you be quiet?”

“Just saying.” He clicks his tongue.

As you break out into a laugh, your expression drops when his dark eyes fixate on you and he spits, loudly, right on your hole before dragging his tongue in a thorough, languid lick through your folds. Back arching with a moan, your hand flies into his hair, pulling a low growl from his throat. He pauses at your clit, nose nudging it before he sucks in a breath, tightens his hold around your thighs, and buries his face in your pussy.

He consumes you, flicking his tongue in some places and slurping in others, going back to the ones that you respond to more - it’s like you just served your pussy to him on a gold fucking platter and he’s savoring you like it’s his last meal.

Fingers tangled in his soft, damp locks, you use your other hand to stifle your whines that he’s drawing out with his expert tongue.

“Don’t hold back for me, dollface,” he insists over your clit. “You can’t get us caught this time.”

Resolve crumbling, you barely register the fact that he called you ‘dollface’ as your hand smacks onto the comforter and unrestrained, needy moans fill the room. He grunts in response and your trembling thighs squeeze around his head as he latches onto your clit, suckling and licking to add fire to the flame in your gut.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you whimper, muscles tensing as the impending snap looms closer.

“Mm, say my name just like that,” he purrs, tongue flicking on your clit.

“You mean you want me to?” You antagonize, not entirely brain dead yet. “After all that grief you gave me about-”

He suddenly draws back, forcing you to groan at the orgasm he just snatched away, hips involuntarily chasing after his mouth.

“Say my fucking name,” he demands.

“Do something that will-”

His mouth wraps around your clit and he starts sucking in rapid motions, not stopping even as you writhe and squirm with pathetic cries, strong arms immobilizing your thighs.

“Yoongi- Yoongi, please!” you shriek, coming with another wanton wail of his name, gripping his roots, and a low, rough growl licks into your pulsing cunt.

Vision blurring with tears as he continues his assault on your clit, you sob at the threat of overstimulation, pushing at his head until he detaches. He kisses your dripping slit one more time just to have you jolt and curse, and then finally lets you catch your breath.

“You got a condom?” he asks after your blood pressure has simmered down to a somewhat normal level and you can comprehend your own thoughts again.

“Um, no?” you rasp, glancing down to his slick mouth and chin. “I thought you had those on deck.”

“I used my last one.”

“When?” You manage to joke. He glares at you through his bangs, shaking his head, and you don’t do well to hold back a laugh. “Oh. Bummer.”

He sighs, and then dots kisses through your folds before latching onto your clit again. Pumping his long fingers into your cunt this time, he gets a little lazy, but it doesn’t make it any less sensational. You lose count of how many times you come but you’re sweating and dripping and just a mess by the time you pass out.

You wake up on your stomach feeling heavy, but so, so good. Lifting your head, you look around, wondering what year it is. You’re still in the same spot you fell asleep in, but there’s a robe laid over you, covering your lower half. Over your shoulder, Yoongi is back at the table, scrolling through his plugged-in phone, and you silently thank the universe that you weren’t just dreaming him up. Because that would be devastating.

Rolling over, you slowly sit up and shift towards the edge of the bed, legs feeling like jelly before you even put any weight on them. You stand up with the robe and nearly lose your balance.

“You alright?” his gravelly voice carries across the room.

“I think I almost died,” you admit as you walk around the bed, rubbing your eyes. He smirks at his phone, looking a little too proud of himself. “How long was I out?”

“Like an hour?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. That jet lag really got to me.”

“Jet lag, huh?” He frowns and you playfully roll your eyes.

“You can take the credit for knocking me out.”

You walk away from his cocky grin to head for the bathroom.

After doing your business and admiring the subtle marks he left on the inside of your thighs, you realize how exhausted you are. From the plane, from all the events of the day, from your however-many orgasms, and you should be spent, ready to sleep like a rock through the night.

And yet, there’s a hunger gnawing in your chest. A greed in your gut. He gratified you beyond your imagination, and you still haven’t gotten your fill. But he ran out of fucking condoms.

You wrap the robe around your waist as you head back to the table, avoiding his gaze as you squat over your duffle.

Rummaging through it, you know a condom isn’t going to be anywhere in there no matter how badly you want there to be. Damn it. Are you that desperate? For that man, with that devilish tongue and monster in his pants? Hell fuckin’ yeah.

“You looking for something?”

“Oh, uh, I forgot to pack a toothbrush,” you stutter, tucking back a piece of your hair as you rise. “Do you think we can go to the convenience store? It’s only a couple miles away.”

“It’s kinda late.”

“It’s open all night.”

“Fine,” he sighs, standing and taking his used towels to the bathroom, shoulder just barely brushing yours as he passes you.

When both of you are changed, he lingers in the doorway of the bathroom where you’re standing in front of the sink, fixing yourself up in the mirror, and you don’t anticipate him to step in and appear mere inches behind you. You watch him fix his mussed hair, not sparing your reflection a single glance. Without the mirror, you’re not sure if you would’ve even noticed his stealth presence unless he touched you. You can’t even hear him breathing. And it makes you shiver. Just as nervousness sprouts at his proximity, you twist around to make an escape, immediately regretting it when you come face-to-face with his devastatingly handsome face and dark eyes that dart down to your lips. On pure impulse, you reach up to tussle his hair and scurry away as he turns around with a sharp, “Hey!”

Next to the front door, his glare sears into you as you lean down to put on your shoes, laughing when he nudges you so that you lose your balance. You guess you deserve that.

***

He parked his bike near some bushes in front of a stone wall farthest away from the main lot of the hotel, close to the ocean. You can’t help but skip towards it, excited to go on a ride again. When you reach it and glance back to see that he’s still catching up, you impulsively swing your leg over and settle into the leather seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he approaches you with a glare. You shoot him a sheepish grin over your shoulder.

“Can I drive?”

“That’s something you ask before you get on the bike.”

“Oh. Well, can I?” With a shake of his head, he sighs and you half-expect him to scold you off, but instead he grabs the helmet resting on the rear seat and holds it out to you.

“Put this on first.” Pressing your warming cheek into your shoulder to hide your shy smile, you reach back and accept it, slipping it on. He looks reluctant as he slides onto the seat behind you and you twist forward, a throb rushing down your spine when his hands slide onto your hips and he adjusts himself to sit pressed lightly against you. He leans forward and you’re encased by him as he sticks the key into the ignition, shows you the switch that will bring the bike to life by tapping it twice, hand returning to your hip once you turn it and the engine rumbles alive loudly, vibrating beneath you.

Revving the handlebars, exhilaration flows into your veins as you look down at all the specs on the dashboard.

“You know how to ride, right?” He mumbles into your ear, sounding skeptical. You smirk.

“Remember what happened the last time you misjudged me?” Before he gets a chance to respond, you grasp his hand and pull it around to your stomach.

“Hold on tight,” you say in the lowest pitched voice you can muster in a poor attempt at imitating him from earlier in the night. He sighs and moves his other arm around your waist, and just as your heart starts to beat out of your chest, you kick back the stand, find your balance on the pedals, and rev the engine before taking off down the road, secretly wishing this road stretched on forever.

His fingers curl into your covered skin, presses his chest into your back and it encourages you to lean forward and go faster. You go a little too fast, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give you any indication that you should slow down. And when you arch your back, the hard length poking your ass tells you that he doesn’t mind the speed at all.

You pull up to the convenience store in under five minutes, the parking lot empty and Yoongi tells you to park it off to the side.

“I think you liked that more than I did,” you say after hopping off the bike. He stays in the seat as you remove the helmet and hold it out, grinning up at him.

“You like it when a girl rides your bike, Min Yoongi?” You lilt teasingly, the biggest shit-eating grin on your face clashing with his fierce glare.

“Go get your shit, you brat,” he grumbles, teeth gritted.

“You’re not coming?” You glance down at the glaring problem in the front of his jeans. “Oh, I guess you need a minute.”

His lip curls and he digs his foot into the pebbled asphalt, making you leap away with a giggle when he kicks a small pile at you.

Walking backwards, you blow him a kiss, laughing your way into the store when he returns it with a middle finger. A smile remains on your face as you start looking around for the toothbrush you lied about not having. At one point you realize that your cheeks hurt from still smiling. Is that the effect he has on you? It’s been a minute since a man, (or anyone, really) has made you smile like this.

Perusing the aisles for some midnight snacks, the doorbell chimes and when the cashier offers a monotone welcome, you perch up on your tiptoes to spot a black beanie making its way to the opposite corner of the store.

As you lean into a fridge for some drinks, he steps up into your periphery, and you take a quick glance, smiling at the bandana that’s wrapped around his face again.

“You want anything?” He shakes his head and you sigh, closing the door and turning around with a hand on your hip.

“Can you not be difficult for once and just pick something? Because I don’t share.”

He steps up to you. “I know you’re not calling me difficult.”

“I am.” You challenge, unintimidated despite being nearly nose to nose. “Get something.”

Keeping his glare on you, he reaches into the fridge and pulls an item out to drop it into the basket. You roll your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even look at it and grab a few more of what he picked, letting the door slam shut.

You pinch the bandana and give it a few gentle tugs, getting right in his face. “Is this what you stuffed in my mouth earlier?”

“Yes. And I’m tempted to do it again.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Maybe I just want to shut you up.”

“There’s more than one way to do that.” His dark eyes flash.

“Keep it moving.”

He lingers behind you as you finish shopping, but disappears once you head to the checkout. When he comes up behind you and casually tosses something on the counter next to your snacks waiting to be scanned, your whole face floods with heat as you stare at the box of condoms. A 12-pack. Large. You gulp, and the flush seeps down to your toes. This is what you came for, but a flood of embarrassment streams into you at the thought that he planned the same thing, or he caught onto you. To offset some of the flood, you swipe the box and hold it up to him.

“Don’t you need these in a smaller size?”

His eyes flicker up but he doesn’t look at you. Just turns and walks away, leaving you to fight down a laugh. Glancing back at the cashier, you’re grateful that her face hasn’t changed, even as she rings up the condoms. She could probably care less if you robbed the whole store.

Rushing out to the empty parking lot, you’re met with the loud revving of the Ducati and the sight of Yoongi wearing his helmet, looking over his shoulder at you through the open visor.

“Min Yoongi, don’t you dare leave me here!” you yell, stopping in your tracks when he flips down the visor, throws up a peace sign and zooms onto the street.

Your jaw drops. That. JERK! He can’t be serious. You run out to the end of the lot, looking up and down the empty stretch of road but he’s nowhere in sight, just the descendo of the engine hanging in the air.

The engine grows louder and he zips by you, sitting straight, one hand on the throttle, the other in the air, pointing a finger at you. Is he… laughing? It’s your turn to flip him off and you almost scream his name again when he suddenly pulls a sharp u-turn and heads back your way. You don’t expect it, but you’re incredibly impressed as he starts drifting in wide circles around you, his leg coming down to balance himself as the bike sharply turns, showcasing just how experienced he is and fuck if that isn’t attractive. And he knows exactly what he’s doing. Turning you on. But you pretend to be unbothered, crossing your arms as if this dangerous man on this dangerous bike isn’t looping around you like a vulture honing in on its prey.

“Are you done?” you tilt your head once he skids to a stop a few feet away in front of you, ignoring the ringing in your ears caused by his incessant drifting.

He switches off the engine and leans up, flipping the visor to reveal the top part of his face, arms dropping and crossing.

“Are you?” His dark muffled voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“What?”

“Done making a fool out of me.” Blowing a raspberry, you walk up to him, set the bag behind him with a wide grin.

“I don’t think you need me to do that.” He stares at you over his shoulder for a second before twisting around to grab the handlebars and just as he turns the ignition, your hand halts him by his elbow.

“You’re not gonna leave again.”

“Then get on.”

You watch, mesmerized, as he takes off the helmet and runs fingers through his hair, casually holding it over his shoulder for you to take.

This feels better, sitting behind him, arms around his waist, head between his shoulder blades so you can watch the trees lining the road and spot lights of the street lamps go by in a blur.

Alive. You feel so fucking alive. The danger of riding on this bike, trusting this man with your life once again. Stretching out your arm, you let the wind fly freely through your fingers, helmet blocking your periphery from catching the turn of his head for a few seconds before focusing back on the road.

He parks the bike in the same spot as before and you get off and return the helmet.

“Usually when guys go out of their way to show off like you did, they’re trying to compensate for something. Just letting you know.”

He looks at you with night in his eyes as he steps up in front of you, peering directly into your soul, and the pit of your stomach rolls with heat.

“You know damn well that I don’t have anything to compensate for,” he says slyly, eyes flickering to yours in a way that enthralls you. Oh, this cocky bastard. If only he wasn’t so fucking right.

“Or maybe you need to be reminded.”

“Isn’t that why you got these?” you ask, shaking the bag in his face.

“I also need to restock my wallet.”

You scoff, pointing at yourself. “And I’m the slut?”

He grins and your cheeks heat when he just stares for a moment, then takes off in the direction of the hotel without another word.

As you reach the stairs of the building to your room, he stops and you turn to him looking down to the stretch of neatly tailored lawn sitting across from the buildings, a few tables and chairs with closed umbrellas spread out in front of the stone wall, the dark ocean a pretty view from afar.

“It’s about to rain, so I’m gonna go smoke. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come?”

“No.” He turns away and your heart cries to go after him, like some clingy, ankle-biting dog.

Stopping after a few steps, he looks back at you pouting and tilts his head.

“Don’t you do what you want anyway?” The dark night can’t hide your bright smile as you bound up to him.

He settles on the table closest to the short-stacked stone wall, wiping off the seat with the end of his sleeve before sitting down and taking out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket. You want nothing more than to sit in his lap again, and, thankfully, there’s an old spot of something white and dirty on the opposite chair that the rain didn’t wash away.

So without warning, you approach him and ignore his repeated look of confusion as you invite yourself into his lap again with an arm around his neck.

“Um, there’s a chair over there.”

“It has bird shit on it,” you reply simply, adjusting yourself to sit sideways, legs hung over his knees. His arms hover in the air.

“So?”

“Would you sit there?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

Disregarding the click of his tongue, you lean over to try and snatch away his cigarette, but he holds it up out of your reach.

“This is my last cigarette and you already owe me one.” You sigh indignantly and lean back against the armrest, gawking as he pats the box against his palm to discharge the final cigarette, crushing the cardboard as he lifts the stick to hang loosely between his lips. He fires it up with an attractive flick of the lighter and cup of his hand around the end, sucking in a drag and letting the stick sit between his teeth as he pockets the empty box and lighter. Smoke filters out of the corner of his mouth as he removes the cigarette with two fingers, blowing the stench to the side, away from you. A string tugs from your heart at the considerate gesture. You redirect your attention to the design on the front of his jacket, grabbing the side to inspect it more closely.

“Is this a tiger?”

“Mhmm.” Is his response, tone disinterested as he flicks ash. Some falls on your thigh and he lightly brushes it away. His touch burns.

“Your favorite animal?” He shakes his head, still doesn’t look at you, blows more smoke away.

“It’s just a design.”

As you watch him smoke, the cigarette slowly withering, he lifts his hips to reach into the back pocket of his jeans, crotch rubbing the back of your knees, making your thighs squeeze together. He multitasks checking his phone and taking a drag, a frown appearing at something he does or doesn’t see on his screen. A thought occurs to you that creates a sinkhole in your chest.

“Are you expecting a call from your girlfriend or something?”

“Why, would that piss you off?” He remarks in a mocking tone, and you start to get up but his arm around your waist and a throaty chuckle traps you in place.

“I wouldn’t have fucked you if I had one. I would’ve still wanted to, but I do have a bit of self control over here.”

“You? A man? Self-control?”

“We’re not all disgusting pigs,” he mutters.

“Well, you’re a rare breed.” Lifting his head mid-drag, his eyebrows raise, a subtle smirk on the corner of his lips.

“So I bet you feel real lucky you met me.”

“Is your- oh wow, look at that,” you pretend to muse, putting your hands up to the side of his head as if measuring it. “Your head’s getting bigger. Not a good look for you.”

With a roll of his eyes, he waves your hands away, unlocks his phone to scroll through his messages that hold no new notifications. Staring at his screen, the desire to have your number and thread on there increases, a lump forming in your throat, unsure if you should cross into that boundary.

“No girlfriend,” he assures you, locking his phone to let it fall face down in his lap. “I’m checking to see if my deposit came through. I’m shit broke until then.”

Your eyes rove over his side profile, going back to that scene in the poker room, how blankly yet confidently he slid all of his chips into the center of the bet, thinking he had the winning hand.

“I could tell you’re a pro at poker, why did you put so much at risk?”

He sighs and looks away, staring across the compound as he takes another drag.

“Because you really sucked at first, and I thought you were just some dumb, overzealous kid who didn’t know what she was doing playing with the big boys like that. But you’re good, Angel. Too good, and I fell for it.”

“You’re the dummy,” your tone is soft, touched by his genuine admission and acknowledgement of your skills. You press a finger into his temple and push a little. He leans away with a small smile.

“I know.”

The ocean is dark and covered in white-caps, brewing in preparation for the storm. Listening to the waves crashing down below, you think back to your musings in the shower.

“Maybe I owe you for stabbing a dude for me.” Wind blows in your direction as he peers at you unsurely.

“I’m no hero.”

You shrug. “I just want to pay you back for going through all of that trouble.”

“Wouldn’t it make me a prick to take your money for something like that?”

“Not if I’m offering it.”

As you wait for him to argue, your phone buzzes in your hoodie and you quickly pull it out, anxiety flashing when ‘biggest bro’ flashes on the call screen.

“Oh, hang on, sorry, my brother’s calling.” You clamber out of his lap and stand, answering when you’re a few feet away.

“Hey,” you say quietly, somewhat relieved to finally hear from Jin. Even though if he knew where you were, he wouldn’t be. “What are you doing calling me on my regular cell?”

“Well, honey, I haven’t heard from you otherwise and oh, I don’t know. Wanted to make sure you’re still alive. Is that okay? How were your summer classes?”

You smile, start pacing in front of the stone wall. “I barely survived, but I made it out. And I’ve made a lot of progress on my project ideas.”

“That’s good to hear, kiddo. Send me some pictures of your designs one of these days. Any other good news you want to tell your big brother?”

“Like what?”

“Hmm. Like are you seeing any booooooys you might want to bring home some day?”

You cringe, a bit spooked by your brother’s 6th sense for knowing everything that goes on in your life. You spare a quick glance to the boy sitting behind you on his phone, turning your back to him just as he looks up at you, and walk a little further away.

“Like you’d approve of them,” you grumble. You’re sure as shit he wouldn’t approve of that man, especially if he found out about your little tryst in a fucking cleaning closet, at an illegal gambling ring no less. What Jin doesn’t know won’t kill him.

“Well, not if they’re jerks!”

“I could bring home a literal prince, and you and bro would interrogate him like he was threatening national security.”

He laughs. “Oh, come on. You know I want you to find someone nice who makes you happy.”

“How can I do that if I move around every eight months?” you ask defensively, that bitterness for your situation enforced onto you by him and your father bubbling to the surface. “I don’t think I’m gonna meet anyone who’d want to be with me like that.”

Silence hangs over the line. “You never know.”

You roll your eyes. He underestimates the kind of men that are around everywhere you go. They barely want to stay the night, much less follow you to the ends of the earth. You feel a prick of wonder if the man whose eyes you can feel on your back would.

“Well, either way, I’m too busy to date. Maybe I’ll have to wait to move back home to settle down,” you rush out, eager to put an end to this topic. “Speaking of which, do you think I can come back to see bro for his birthday?”

You can sense through another bout of Jin’s prolonged silence a big ‘No.’

“It’s not a good idea, honey. Not right now, he’s not doing well.” Jin takes a deep breath. “He almost relapsed.”

Your heart drops and you have to squat to combat the nausea filling your gut.

“That just makes me want to come home even more.”

“He doesn’t want you seeing him like this.”

Your palm lands against your forehead. “So what, am I just never going to get to see either of you again? Like I’m just gonna go the rest of my life living abroad? Do you know how much I hate the idea of that?”

Dead air meets the line again and you stand, suddenly overwhelmed by the notion that he might never let you.

“We’ll talk more about that when you finish with school, I want you to focus on your studies. Don’t worry about your brother, he’ll be alright.”

You do worry. You worry so much about him, sometimes you can’t sleep at night. You almost tell Jin that you’re in Jeju, that you could take a flight home tomorrow and just see them real quick but you have a feeling he would be less than enthusiastic and might turn it into a whole lecture about how irresponsible it is for you to fly back home unannounced. Among other things.

“Whatever.” You peek back to where Yoongi’s staring at his dark screen.

“Hey, don’t be like that, okay? This is just something we-” But you’re over this. There’s no point in arguing with him. He never lets you win.

“Sorry, I’m gonna go now.”

“Honey, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I’m not,” you lie in a grumble. “I’m kind of with someone, so I should probably get back.”

“Oh?” his tone changes to curiosity. Oops. “Who is this ‘someone’?”

“A friend. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hmm, alright,” he sounds unconvinced. “Well, be safe, you hear? And don’t let me go this long without hearing from you unless you want me to go gray with worry.”

“Don’t you already dye your hair?”

“Yah, you little punk! I’ll get you back for that one.”

“Sure you will. I’m hanging up now. Love you. Tell bro I love him too and that it wouldn’t hurt to call me once in a while.”

“I will. Love you too, honey. Call me in a couple days.”

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, says bye, and waits for you to hang up.

Dropping the phone from your ear, you stare at it while contemplating whether or not you should call Jungkook, but turn and head for Yoongi when you doubt he would even pick up.

You sit back down on his lap like it has your name on it. He huffs in annoyance but still wraps his arm around your waist and rests his hand holding the nearly finished cigarette on your knee.

“Does your brother usually call this late?” he queries, voice soft and a touch hesitant.

“Now who’s being nosy?”

“You eavesdropped on me earlier!” You smile, stretching your arm on the back of the chair.

“He thinks I’m still abroad.”

“Are you supposed to be?”

“Mhmm. I was gonna go home and surprise my other brother for his birthday, but turns out that would be a bad idea.”

“Damn, two brothers? That’s gotta be tough.”

“Yeah, they’re both older. And annoying as fuck.”

“So you get it from them.” You can’t argue with that.

“Why’s it a bad idea to go home?” he asks softly after a stretch of quietude, waves crashing in the distant background. Your cheek turns to look at him, mildly bewildered, his eyes flitting between you and the ground.

“Are you trying to get to know me or something?” you deflect. Because that’s not a can of worms you really want to open right now.

“No, just making conversation.” He shrugs, a pout on his lips that mirrors the one that appeared when he told you his name.

“You didn’t want to do that earlier.”

“Fucks’ sake,” he mutters under his breath, ducking his head to lift the cigarette. “It’s easier for you to just call me a fucking jerk.”

“You’re a fucking jerk.” He chuckles while taking a drag, exhaling smoke through his nostrils.

“And I’m trying not to be one right now, okay?”

“Well, don’t wear yourself out.”

“You’re gonna do that for me when we go back in, right?” He cheekily winks, demeanor doing a 180, and you mimic being annoyed but really you’re imagining all the ways you could do just that.

“Y’know, you have a really good libido for such an old man.”

His smirk flips to a scowl and when you laugh at his disdain, he pushes at your waist, a little harder than you think he meant to because you end up slipping off of his lap and onto the ground with a surprised squeal.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaims, reaching down for you as you groan in mild pain from your ass falling on the hard, wet lawn. You glare up at him when he visibly can’t hold back his amusement while he tries to grab your elbows to help you up but you only slap his hands away.

“I didn’t mean to push you.” He’s still laughing when you manage to get up and walk away but he grabs your wrist and you look back to see him throwing down his cigarette, a grin on his face as he doesn’t let you out of his grip.

“Hey, c’mere.”

“No,” you mumble stubbornly.

“Is your ass okay?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.”

“Get lost.”

“No.”

He tugs you close and smirks now that you’re speechless, hands daring to go lower, waiting for you to have a problem, but you don’t, just allow him to glide his large palms to your ass.

“Feels okay to me.” He gives a squeeze and even though heat creeps down into your gut at the lust pooling in his eyes, you put your hands on his chest and push. He steps back with a grin and lunges after you with a hand on your elbow, laughing lowly when you playfully fight him off but he doesn’t let go.

Then a bolt of lightning strikes the atmosphere, freezing you in place, and he steps up next to you, unphased as you wait for the impending clap of thunder. Rain cascades from above and you both look up to the sky, droplets falling on your faces as you stare at the night darkened by the fast moving storm clouds. Your eyes lock and you share a look that reflects something you can’t describe - A boom shakes the world around you, nerves jumping and driving you to take off back towards the hotel, not realizing until you look over your shoulder that Yoongi’s hand is in yours as he runs behind you, a wild smile on his face.

Just as you reach the stairs, you glance down with wide eyes at both of your empty hands.

“I left the bag!” you exclaim, flinching as lightning flashes again. He looks over the distance you just crossed and jogs back over without hesitation or urgency despite the heavy winds.

Hugging yourself as you shiver under the onslaught of stinging rain, you silently beg him to hurry up as he strides back over to overshadow you, staring down with a furrow between his brows and a blink at your lips. Even though you want to interpret the way he’s looking at you through his wet bangs sticking on his face, you want to get the fuck out of the storm but as soon as your foot turns to dart up the stairs, his hand curls around the back of your neck and pulls you forward until you’re up on your toes. Pulse stuttering and eyebrows rising in shock and awe as his mouth collides with yours, you’re rendered still and breathless as he steps up to press your drenched bodies together, kissing you fervently, tipping your head up for a better angle. Storm water pours between you, and you both taste it after his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, droplets rolling down his face and into your mouth and you drink it up along with the taste of him. You don’t know what’s gotten into this man, but whatever it is, you’re living for it. You just wish, in this moment, you weren’t in the middle of a storm having the life kissed out of you.

“We’re gonna catch a cold if we keep making out in the rain,” you murmur, lips still brushing his.

“You can’t get sick just from some rain,” he retorts. You roll your eyes and tip up to kiss him chastely before twisting around to run up the stairs, not looking back as you shakily unlock the door. When his presence emerges behind you, a nervous smile breaks out on your face as you finally turn the key. The sky roars again, forcing out a laugh of adrenaline as you barrel into the door to hastily get inside.

Thank you so much for reading!! This is a terrible place to cut off but I had to split this into another part I'm sorry this chapter is taking a lot out of me and I started a new job so I'm dealing with the adjustment.

prelude part 3 will be out soon so we can move on lol. And it will be mostly smut 😅 and some yoongi pov

Comment or send an ask if you enjoyed reading and/or if you want to be added to the taglist!! (Pls have some indication on your blog that you are an adult or I will not add you!)

Feedback is appreciated - I’d love to know your thoughts!! And i love to yap in general lol

xxx - claret

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winxanity-ii · 3 days ago

Text

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 23 "Chapter 23 | blessings and burdens⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The following day, news had spread throughout Ithaca like wildfire. Word of your divine favor and the miraculous healing of the young cabin boy had ignited a spark of awe and curiosity among the townsfolk.

As you went about your morning chores, you couldn't help but notice the change in how people looked at you. Their faces, usually so familiar and open, now held a mixture of reverence and mystery. Whispered conversations would pause as you passed, and some would even make the sign of a blessing in your direction, their eyes wide with respect.

When you delivered Queen Penelope's breakfast, her reaction was even more enthusiastic than the whispers in the corridors.

Her face lit up with a mixture of pride and excitement as soon as you entered her chambers. "Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as you set down her tray. "Everyone's been talking about what happened at the docks! This is such wonderful news!" Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she reached out to grasp your hands, squeezing them warmly. "Would you like a celebration? It's not every day we have someone marked by Apollo himself under our roof!"

You were taken aback by her energy and the speed at which she spoke, her words tumbling out in a joyful rush. "I always knew there was something special about you, right from the start. It's only fitting you'd be Apollo's chosen. Such grace, such talent!" She continued to praise your virtues, recounting anecdotes of your time in the palace that she believed had hinted at your divine favor.

Her rapid chatting was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. A servant, slightly out of breath from haste, peeked inside. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but King Odysseus requests ____'s presence immediately."

Penelope waved the servant away with a gentle hand. "Of course, send her in once we're done here," she said, turning back to you with a conspiratorial smile. "You see? Even the King recognizes your newfound importance. Go on, don't keep him waiting. We'll plan your celebration later!"

Nodding, you excused yourself with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation churning in your stomach. As you made your way to King Odysseus's quarters, the weight of your new reality felt both exhilarating and daunting.

Each step seemed to echo louder in the halls, as if even the palace itself was aware of the change within you. When you finally reached the heavy oak door of the king's quarters, you paused, taking a deep breath before your knuckles rapped softly against the wood. The sound seemed to resonate too loudly in the quiet corridor.

"Come in," a voice called from inside, its timbre resonant and commanding yet inviting.

Pushing the door open, you stepped into a room that starkly contrasted Penelope's elegant and warmly decorated chamber. Odysseus quarters were austere and solemn, reflecting his years of hardship and battle.

The walls were lined with maps and weapons, and a large, heavy desk dominated the room, scattered with scrolls and plans. The only decoration that seemed out of place in the otherwise martial room was a beautifully carved chess set positioned on a small table near the window, where natural light spilled across the board, highlighting the intricately detailed pieces of dark and light wood.

Your gaze fell on the man himself.

Odysseus sat by the window, much like his wife often did, yet whereas her presence seemed to soften the sunlight, his seemed to sharpen it. His eyes, perceptive and piercing, watched you as you entered, assessing your every move as though deducing your thoughts.

He gestured to the seat opposite him at the chess table. "Come, sit," he invited, his voice holding an edge of warmth. "Would you care to play a game? It helps me think."

You hesitated, aware of the metaphorical weight such a game might carry, especially played against a man famed for his strategic brilliance. But refusing would be discourteous. Nodding, you moved to the indicated chair and sat down, your hands slightly trembling as you reached out to arrange your pieces.

Odysseus observed your movements, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Chess is a good reflection of life, don't you think? A constant battle of wits, strategy, and foresight."

You nodded, unsure of how to respond, your fingers hesitantly moving a pawn forward. As the game began, Odysseus's demeanor remained focused yet open, encouraging even. "Congratulations on receiving Apollo's favor," he began, his tone blending seriousness with a hint of curiosity. "It's a rare gift, one that carries both honor and burden."

You paused, fingers resting on a bishop you were considering moving. The straightforwardness of his approach took you by surprise, especially given your status as a servant. It wasn't common for a king to discuss matters of divine favor so openly with someone in your position. "Thank you, sir," you responded, carefully moving the bishop. "It's... overwhelming, to say the least."

Odysseus chuckled softly, nodding in agreement as he captured one of your pawns. "I can imagine. Dealing with the gods is no small matter. They play their own games, ones that span lifetimes and often have rules only they fully understand."

You considered his words, moving your knight to a safer position on the board. "How does one prepare for such a thing? For interacting with gods?" you asked, genuinely seeking his counsel.

"Ah," Odysseus leaned back slightly, studying the chessboard with a tactician's eye. "You must always remember that the gods are not like us. They think and act on a scale we can hardly comprehend. Be respectful, but not servile. Be thoughtful, but not open. Show them that you are grateful for their attention, but not dependent on it."

The advice struck a chord with you. Respectful but not servile—like walking a tightrope of diplomacy and self-preservation. "And what if they ask for something difficult? Something that could change who I am?" you questioned, your hand hovering over the queen.

"Then you must weigh the cost," Odysseus replied, moving his queen to a more aggressive position. "Every favor from a god is a transaction. Think carefully about what you're willing to give, and what you're willing to lose. Sometimes, the wisest move is to refuse, or to negotiate."

Negotiate with a god. The idea seemed daunting, almost absurd, but coming from Odysseus—a man who had dealt with gods and their caprices—it held a certain weight. You moved your queen, taking one of his knights. "Have you... ever refused a god, sir?"

Odysseus smiled wryly, capturing your rook with his queen. "I have. It's not something I'd recommend doing lightly, but yes. Sometimes, standing your ground is necessary. Just be sure the hill you choose to die on is worth the battle."

The metaphor resonated with you, especially given the stakes you were beginning to understand came with divine favor. "I'll keep that in mind," you said, feeling the gravity of his advice settle over you.

Odysseus studied you for a moment, then offered a nod of approval. "Good," he said, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and formality that put you at ease. It was a side of him you had rarely seen, the wise king who had navigated wars and the whims of gods, now offering guidance in a game that felt more consequential than any chess match.

The conversation had brought you a kind of peace and allowed you to see firsthand the wisdom Telemachus and Polites had often spoken of—words that did no justice to the experience of hearing it directly from Odysseus himself. His advice made you feel secure, seen, and surprisingly understood, even in the complexity of your current situation.

In a moment of unexpected confidence, driven by the newfound trust and the comfort of his wisdom, you found yourself speaking before fully thinking it through. "There's something else I should mention," you began, your voice steadier than you felt.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, a gesture inviting you to continue.

"I've... also received a divine lyre from Apollo," you said, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in your throat. "It was delivered to me by Hermes." The admission felt monumental as soon as the words left your mouth, revealing a connection to another deity that you hadn't fully acknowledged aloud until now.

Odysseus blinked, a moment of surprise crossing his features before settling into an understanding nod. "Oh," he said simply, processing your revelation about Hermes. You confirmed his presence in your life, explaining how the god had occasionally guided you, much like Apollo had shown his favor.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as if amused by the complexities of divine interactions with mortals. "It seems the gods find you as interesting as we do," he remarked, his tone light but turning serious again. "You must be quite special to attract the attention of not just one, but two gods."

The words 'quite special' echoed in your mind, mingling with a mix of pride and apprehension. It was one thing to be favored by Apollo, quite another to realize that Hermes, too, saw something in you worth engaging with.

"Dealing with one god can be challenging enough," Odysseus continued, his voice tinged with a humor that suggested personal experience. "Two is a rare and complicated path. You'll need to be cautious, but also bold. Remember, the gods are not infallible. They have their whims and their personalities. Treat them as you would any powerful, capricious monarch."

The advice sunk in deeply, framing your divine encounters in a new light—one that required not just reverence but also a strategic respect. "I will remember that, sir," you replied, your response filled with a genuine gratitude for his guidance.

Odysseus nodded once more, approvingly. "You are welcome here anytime, ____. It's clear you have a role to play in the days to come. And remember, if ever you need counsel, my door is open."

You felt a rush of gratitude for his support, bolstered by his acknowledgment of your role during his absence—how you had been a pillar for Penelope and a support to Telemachus. "Thank you, your majesty. That means more than I can say."

As the chess game continued, it appeared Odysseus was leading, his strategy unfolding with experienced precision. However, as the end drew near, a twist in your tactics caught him off guard. With a gentle checkmate, you claimed a surprising victory.

Rising from your seat with a respectful bow, you thanked him for the game and the conversation. "It's been enlightening, King Odysseus."

He dismissed you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of respect and curiosity. "Go on, then. We'll speak again soon, I'm sure."

As you exited the room, the weight of his words and the unexpected outcome of the game left you contemplating the depth of strategy, both in chess and in dealing with the divine—a lesson you knew would serve you well in the days to come.

☆

The rest of the day passed in a blur, the morning's clarity dissolving into the steady rhythm of palace life. You navigated through your duties with a mind still echoing with Odysseus's advice, his words a constant undercurrent to your thoughts.

Evening found you quietly relieved when the dinner bell rang, signaling an end to the day's obligations. The meal was a lively affair, filled with the usual chatter and clinking of cutlery, but you found yourself only half-listening, your gaze often drifting to the flickering flames of the candles that lit the dining hall.

After dinner, you excused yourself early, claiming fatigue—a not entirely false pretext. Your chambers welcomed you with their familiar, comforting solitude. You changed into your nightgown, a simple garment that felt blissfully soft against your skin after the day's garb.

Settling into bed, you reached for the candle by your bedside, the flame casting a warm glow across the room. Just as your fingers grazed the candlestick to snuff out the light, a soft chuckle stopped you dead in your tracks.

Startled, you smothered a yelp, hastily turning towards the sound. Your heart raced as your eyes landed on the figure now standing by your window—a figure both imposing and impossibly familiar.

"Apollo," you breathed out, a mix of awe and reproach in your tone as you clutched the sheets to your chest. The god of music and healing gave you an apologetic smile, his presence filling the room with a warmth that seemed to dance in the air.

"I hope I didn't frighten you too much," Apollo said, his voice a soothing balm despite the surprise of his sudden appearance. "I couldn't help but come visit. I wanted to see how you were managing."

You blinked, the initial shock slowly giving way to a surreal realization that the god himself was truly standing before you. "It's... quite a surprise," you managed to say, your voice steadier than you felt. "But I'm... well, thank you."

Apollo moved closer, the moonlight spilling through the window casting his divine features in a soft, ethereal light. As he approached, you couldn't help but notice the way the light seemed to dance around him, not just illuminating his form but enhancing it, making him appear as if he was part of the very essence of the moon itself.

Clearing your throat, you decided to tell him about your recent encounter with Artemis, his sister. His expression shifted slightly, a brief flicker of embarrassment crossing his divine features as you recounted the experience. "She was... intense," you said, choosing your words carefully.

Apollo let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair—an oddly human gesture. "Yes, that sounds like Artemis," he admitted, his voice tinged with a brotherly exasperation that made him seem more approachable, more relatable. "I apologize if she was too forward. She can be quite protective... and direct."

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. "It's alright. It was actually kind of sweet, in a way," you said, your voice soft. "It's clear she cares a lot about you. The bond between siblings is something very pure, isn't it?"

Apollo's gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth spreading through his eyes that made your heart flutter slightly. "It is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "And it's a bond that can teach us a lot about loyalty, about unconditional support."

He paused, his eyes lingering on you as if seeing you in a new light. "You have a way of seeing the good in things, ____. It's one of the reasons I... Well, it's why I find myself drawn here, to you."

The room seemed to hold its breath, the only sounds the gentle night breeze whispering through the open window and the distant call of a night bird. It was a stillness that felt almost tangible, as if the night itself had paused, acknowledging the significance of the divine presence in your simple room.

Apollo's gaze remained fixed on you, intense yet gentle, and after a moment, he perked up, a new curiosity coloring his tone. "Did you enjoy the sigil the other day?" he asked, his voice light but carrying an undercurrent of genuine interest.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. The sigil—that unexpected manifestation of golden light that had seemed to acknowledge and amplify your healing abilities. "Yes, I... it was unexpected," you admitted, your voice a mix of wonder and slight confusion. "What was it, exactly?"

Apollo's lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he shifted, settling himself on the edge of your bed with a grace that only a god could manage. The mattress barely dipped under his weight, his presence as light as it was profound. "I thought you might appreciate a little... confirmation," he explained, his voice soft, as if sharing a secret. "A sign of my support. It's been dark for you for so long, hasn't it?"

You nodded, the truth of his words striking a chord within you. The recent times had indeed felt shadowed by uncertainties and trials that often seemed too much to bear alone. "I did appreciate it," you confessed, smiling faintly at the memory of the inexplainable feeling you felt during your healing of the cabin boy. "Thank you, Apollo. I didn't expect it, but it helped. More than you know."

Apollo's gaze softened further, and he reached out, his hand briefly touching your own. The contact was brief but filled with a warmth that seemed to radiate directly from his divine essence. "I'm glad," he murmured. "And you should know, there's more I can show you, do for you. You've only just begun to explore what's possible with my favor."

The promise in his words was heady, thrilling yet daunting. You were about to respond when Apollo continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he leaned closer. "I'm here not just to guide or to watch. I want to be part of your journey, to help illuminate the paths you choose."

The sincerity in his expression, the depth of his commitment to your well-being—it all resonated deeply within you, stirring a mix of emotions. Gratitude, certainly, for his divine support, but also a new sense of responsibility that came with his favor. It was a daunting prospect, the weight of divine expectations, but also an exhilarating one.

"You've brought light to my path already," you told him, your voice steady despite the quickening of your heart. "I... I hope I can make you proud."

Apollo's smile was radiant, almost blinding in its brilliance. "You already have," he assured you, and then, with a playful wink, he added, "And I expect great things from you, my chosen."

His tone was light, but then, his smile faded into a more serious expression as he leaned closer, his voice lowering to a murmur that barely disturbed the quiet of your room. "But you must be careful," he cautioned, his gaze intensifying as he searched your eyes. "Not all who watch you wish to see you thrive."

He paused, letting the silence hang for a moment to ensure you grasped the gravity of his warning. "There is a particular goddess whose interest you have piqued," he continued, his voice a soft yet firm whisper. "She is drawn to stories like yours, to the plays of power and affection. Her ways are capricious, and she delights in weaving passion and jealousy as one might weave threads in a tapestry."

His eyes held yours, intense and searching, "Be wary of any boon that seems to echo the desires of the heart. I cannot always be here to deflect her whims."

Your heart tightened at his implication.

The reference was clear without naming names—Aphrodite, the goddess of love, known for her domain of love of all kinds. Apollo's mention of heart's desires brought an unspoken warning about Telemachus too, hinting that what felt like genuine affection might also be a thread in a larger game, woven by divine hands.

Your stomach turned at the thought—No. You're not doing this... not now.

Getting your mind back on track, you cleared your throat. "I understand," you responded, your voice steady despite the turmoil that his words stirred within you. "Thank you, Apollo, for your guidance and for looking out for me."

Apollo's gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek in a tender gesture that seemed to promise protection. "Guard your heart, little muse," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "And remember, not all that glitters in the moonlight is gold, not all who wander are lost, but all who meddle are not friends." His face was so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes, his presence enveloping you in a protective cocoon.

Your heart quickened, and subconsciously, you found yourself leaning in, drawn by the magnetic pull of his nearness. His eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, a silent promise lingering in his gaze. "Goodnight, little muse."

Then, like a whisper on the wind, he was gone. The sudden absence of his warmth left a cold spot in the room, but the lingering touch on your cheek felt like a balm, a reminder of his visit and his vow of protection.

As you sat there, the silence of the night wrapping around you once more, you felt a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. Apollo's visit had brought both comfort and a warning, and as you lay down to sleep, his words echoed in your mind, a lullaby laced with a cautionary tale.

The night closed in, soft and dark, and you drifted off, the memory of Apollo's touch a gentle echo in the quiet of your dreams.

A/N: kinda short but i just had to do some apollo-service ha! also, surprise, double update! incasse you guys wanted to know, second semester just began so updates may be just posted like this (several chapter at once) just because ya girl is in honors and have to complete assignmnets so gpa doesnt drop! thx you all for supporting me on all my works, you guys have been amazing 😭 now if you guys will excuse me, i shall go sleep/hibernate for 12hrs ❤️

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre

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ncity-agere · 18 hours ago

Note

hi hi hi! could we get some CG!Scoups x reader , maybe some cuddly sleepy fluff with some tickles sprinkled in there for flavor 🙂‍↕️ eheh

Hi anon! Yes, of course you may have caregiver Coups! 🫶🏽

Caregiver!S.coups loves spending time with you, but sometimes it can be tiring for you. After all, a long day of playing freeze tag and dressing up and coloring in coloring books can be a lot for such a teeny baby.

“I’m sleepy, Cheollie…” You’d yawn, dropping your favorite color crayon on the ground and rubbing your eyes with your little fists. “So, so eepy.”

Seungcheol looked up from where he sat, watching you draw. He pouted, holding his arms out for you to crawl into, which you did. You nuzzled into his neck and yawned again, babbling a little bit out of sleepiness.

“Aw, my little cherry-pie is tired?” He cooed, suddenly tickling your tummy. Little giggles erupt from your mouth, squealing as you swat him away playfully.

“Cheollie!” You squeak, cheeks and ears turning redder and redder by the second. Your legs kicked out futilely, unable to stop laughing. “Tickles!”

Seungcheol only grinned, stopping the tickles only to plant soft kisses on your cheek. “I can’t help it, my little y/n is so, so ticklish! Silly baby.” He cooed. You folded your arms stubbornly, shaking your head.

“I not!” You argued, but one mischievous grin from your caregiver was all it took to back down. “But don’ do it again!” You stared at him with the most intimidating glare you could muster up and it took everything in Seungcheol not to laugh at how cute he found it.

“Alright baby, alright.” He chuckled, placing you on his hip and getting up from where you both sat on the floor. He looked at you with bright eyes as you yawned again. “Let’s go night-night, little cherry-pie, hm?” He whispered.

Your head felt heavy as you nodded, dropping it onto his shoulders as he whisked you away to your bedroom and lowered you gently into your bed, making sure not to squish the stuffed animals too much.

He started to tuck you in and get you all cozied up, leaning to give you a small kiss on your pouty lips, his own heart fluttering as you giggled bashfully.

He turned to leave the room, about to turn off the light when you got his attention again. “Cheollie stay?” You looked up at him with shiny, bright eyes, pleading with him to stay.

“You want me to stay, babycakes?” The man smiled and caressed your cheek as you yawned again, eyes fluttering closed as you burrowed farther underneath the blankies. He turned with a smile and sat next to your bed, in the soft little chair you keep close by. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Go on, I’ll be right here you wake up…” His voice was gentle and soft, lulling you farther into a far away dreamland.

You’ve had a long day today but Cheollie made it all okay in the end. He always does.

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v4mptsuki · 1 day ago

Text

tide pools (i. matsukawa)

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings: just some kissing & suggestive thoughts

this trip had been a long time in the making. with everyone off at university doing their own stuff, it was hard for the friend group to reunite. especially considering the distance between you all now that you were all graduated. the group had been planning a trip to okinawa for a few months now, and you couldn’t be more excited when the day finally arrived.

you’d rented rooms in a hotel by the beach, getting one all to yourself while the rest of the boys bunked up. it was your first full day after arriving late last night, and you could practically feel the ocean calling your name.

you finished up your hairstyle for the day, opting to pull your hair back so it would stay out of your face while you swam, and took one last look at yourself in the mirror. you had done a light coat of mascara, waterproof of course, just to make yourself feel a bit more put together. although if you were honest with yourself, it was definitely to impress a special someone.

you had been head over heels for matsukawa issei since your time in high school together. you were the manager of their volleyball team, and best friends with the seijoh four for most of your life. however, it never felt like matsukawa paid you much attention at all. he was a good friend, but he never seemed to care too much about what you were doing. besides, you were constantly hearing about all the girls confessing to him, and gifting him chocolates, so you never felt like you stood a chance.

as you all grew older, you and matsukawa seemed to grow closer. with oikawa and iwaizumi moving abroad for university, it seemed to bring the remaining friends closer together. all three of you attended the same university, and you now live in the same apartment building. matsukawa roomed with hanamaki, and you lived with one of your friends from first year. you all spent tons of time together, but you never felt like matsukawa would ever see you as anything other than a friend. with a sigh, you pulled yourself from your thoughts and went to grab your beach bag so you could meet up with the boys outside.

“y/n! glad you decided to join us,” oikawa teased, referring to the fact that they’d all been waiting for you.

“oh come on, it hasn’t even been that long,” you replied, shoving his shoulder lightly with a roll of your eyes.

the group began to head outside towards the beach, and you fell into a rhythm walking next to oikawa.

“i’m glad we’re finally doing this, i’ve missed you guys,” you said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“aw y/n-chan, i’m sure you missed me the most,” oikawa boasted with a smile. “considering you rarely get to see me.”

“what if i missed iwa more? he’s just as far away as you are,” you commented, giving iwa a smile.

oikawa scoffed and draped his arm over your shoulders, “not a chance, i know you love me the most,”

you adjusted your shoulders, shaking his arm off. oikawa had always been this way with you. he showed his love very physically, and it tended to scare off any potential suitors. no one wanted to be in competition with oikawa, but no one seemed to gather that he wasn’t in the running at all.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

matsukawa knew this day would be hard for him. he missed his friends dearly, of course, but being all together again brought back some of the hardships of high school. he had never been the most outspoken person in the world, so he appreciated his friends taking that role on. however, he could do without oikawa’s incessant affections towards you.

it’s not like he’d ever made it known, but matsukawa always had a soft spot for you. from the day you had first met, your smile and bright eyes captivated him. you were always so kind, and willing to help the team out, and honestly you cared just as much about volleyball as they all did. matsukawa never made it known how he felt about you though, partially because he would hate to ruin your friendship, but also because he began to feel like it was a losing battle.

oikawa was the guy every girl wanted. he was handsome, talented, smart, and flirting came so naturally to him. with just one look he could make a girl blush, and all matsukawa could accomplish with one look was making a girl avert her eyes and walk away. so seeing oikawa constantly all over you made him feel like he had no chance of you ever picking him.

he was excited for the beach though. despite his jealousy, oikawa was one of his best friends, so it was hard to go so long without seeing him. same for iwaizumi; matsukawa had been looking forward to a reunion.

the group reached a good spot to start setting up their chairs and towels, and hanamaki was quick to toss his shirt to the side and rush towards the ocean. oikawa was quick to follow in his footsteps, and iwaizumi was next after he had sprayed his shoulders down with a good amount of sunscreen. matsukawa didn’t want to go ahead without you though.

as soon as you popped into his head, he glanced over to see what you were doing and almost lost control of his calm facial expression.

you had taken off your coverup, and were now only in your bikini. matsukawa knew you were hot, but seeing you like this made him feel like a teenager again. like he could barely control himself. it was a cute matching set, monochrome in color, with little ties on the side of the bottoms and the triangle shape of the top seemed to barely hold everything in. matsukawa felt his throat getting dry, and he was about to look away to regain his composure when your eyes looked up and met his.

“what?” you asked, a confused look on your face.

matsukawa coughed awkwardly, “uh, nothing, sorry.”

“well, whatever, could you help me with the sunscreen?” you asked innocently.

matsukawa felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. he couldn’t string a sentence together to reply to you, so he just nodded curtly and reached for the bottle of sunscreen nearby. you turned, leaving your back facing him, and gently held your hair away from your neck. matsukawa knew today would be difficult for him.

he quickly rubbed the sunscreen into your back, trying his hardest not to seem weird. he didn’t want you to get a strange vibe from him, especially if it would make you uncomfortable. however, he couldn’t help but linger with his hands on your shoulders. your skin was so soft, and if he stood just close enough he could smell the vanilla scent radiating off of you. however, he couldn’t place if it was perfume or something more subtle like body wash.

“is everything okay back there?” you asked with a giggle, snapping matsukawa back into reality.

he cleared his throat again, “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. you’re good now by the way.”

you turned around to face him with a smile adorning your face, “thanks matsun!”

he nodded in response, a smile creeping onto his face. it was like your smile was contagious for him.

“anytime. do you want to get in the water?” matsukawa asked.

you nodded back at him, and with that you both headed towards the ocean.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

despite your best efforts to keep your hair dry, of course, you ended up fully submerged in the ocean not even an hour into your day. you’d all been splashing around in the water for a while now, and everyone was reaching a stopping point. you in particular were starting to crave some food.

as if he’d read your mind, iwaizumi popped up from under the water, and after he shook his hair dry, he posed the question.

“do you guys wanna get out and eat something?”

hanamaki responded with an enthusiastic yes, and you backed him up.

“yeah, i’m getting hungry.”

you all headed back towards your spot on the sand, while you lingered towards the back. it was hard to keep up with a bunch of boys with long legs, especially while walking in the water. matsukawa seemed to notice you, and hung back as well.

“did we bring anything with us to eat?” oikawa asked, from the front of the pack.

your eyes widened, how could you guys forget to bring snacks?

“someone could always run over to the beach grill and bring food back,” iwaizumi suggested with a shrug.

“genius iwa!” oikawa exclaimed, reaching over to ruffle his friend’s hair.

iwaizumi scowled and swatted his hand away, “back off shithead,” he grumbled.

oikawa brought his hand over his heart, feigning offence, “iwa how dare you!”

he just rolled his eyes in response, and the two began to bicker back and forth. you smiled at the exchange, feeling all of the nostalgia from your time in high school. oh how you’d missed these boys.

“do you want to go get the food for everyone?” matsukawa asked you, leaning down a bit to reach your ears better.

you couldn't stop the heat that spread over your cheeks at his proximity, but you nodded despite the blush.

“yeah, i’m down for that.”

“guys, everyone text your orders, me and y/n are gonna go to the grill,” matsukawa announced to the group, only catching the attention of hanamaki.

“i’ll make sure they send what they want, you guys can go,” hanamaki said, referring to oikawa and iwaizumi who had yet to stop bickering.

matsukawa tilted his head towards the grill, gesturing for you to follow after him. with a small wave at the remaining three, you began to follow after him. you both headed towards the boardwalk, a skinny piece of wood trailing the edge of the beach, leading towards the center where all the stands were located. with its distance from all the action on the sand, it actually felt somewhat isolated. once the two of you reached the boardwalk, you fell comfortably into a rhythm with each other.

“i’m so hungry, i can’t wait to get our food,” you commented, breaking the silence.

“mhm,” matsukawa hummed in reply, looking anywhere but at you.

you felt a small pang of hurt in your chest, and quickly tried to change the direction of your thoughts. it was so hard though, with matsukawa right next to you, and his shirt nowhere to be seen. the years of volleyball had been good to him, and you knew he liked to stay active, even just by working out at the gym. he was ripped without being too big, and in your eyes he had the perfect build. he was broad, and strong, and you could see the definition of his muscles along his back and chest. his arms were huge, veins running down to his hands, and you couldn’t focus on them for too long before your mind would start to wander. you wondered how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his chest. you would lay your head against him, and then you wondered what he would smell like. does he still use the same axe products as he did in high school? or has he matured into using more adult scents? you wondered what it would be like to lay with him, cuddling up next to him. how would he hold you?

“y/n?”

matsukawa’s deep voice brought you back to reality. he was waving a hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. a bright red blush swept over your face, instantly regretting letting your mind wander.

“what were you thinking about?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

you felt like you were blushing all the way down to your toes. how much more embarrassing could this possibly be?

“oh, uh, nothing really. i was just, uh, distracted,” your voice faded out at the end, like you knew you had no good excuse for your behavior.

matsukawa brushed it off though, and just kept walking forwards. he began rambling about hanamaki, and his unexplainable beef with flip flops, giving you a chance to calm down. because how could you get worked up hearing about hanamaki’s feet?

you both finally reached the beach grill, and thankfully there wasn’t much of a line. once you reached the front, matsukawa ordered for your friends, and then for himself, and much to your surprise, he ordered for you too. you’d told him what you wanted while you were waiting in line, and even though it was a small gesture, it made you feel the oh so familiar blush creep back onto your face. it felt so domestic, and you couldn’t help but imagine, for just one second, that matsukawa was yours.

you stepped to the side to wait for your food, and you kept your head hung low. the last thing you needed right now was another awkward moment with him. you wanted him to like you, and how would that ever happen if he kept catching you staring like a freak.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

matsukawa had no clue what came over him, but he felt the most bold he’d felt in a while. maybe it was seeing you in a bikini, and seeing the way every other man on the beach looked at you. thinking about some other guy creeping on you made his fists clench, and matsukawa knew he had to do something about it. the whole walk over to the grill, he’d been scheming a way to romance you.

however, it was appearing to be much harder than he thought it would be. no grand gestures were coming to mind, and to make matters worse he couldn’t tell if you were fine being with him, or if you were incredibly uncomfortable. you could hardly meet his eyes, and your body language was basically running away from him. but then every time you did look at him, the smile on your face and the light in your eyes pulled him right back in.

matsukawa heard his name being called, and went up to the counter to grab their togo bags. it was only two bags, which he easily swept up in one hand. you trailed behind him, and he could feel your eyes burning into the back of his neck.

“do you want help carrying those?” you asked politely.

matsukawa shook his head, “nah, they’re not even heavy. besides, it’s only two bags.”

you nodded in understanding, “okay, well let me know if you change your mind.”

matsukawa thanked you, and then his mind was right back to scheming. he knew he could never make a move on you in front of your friends. he would be teased relentlessly, and if you truly did like oikawa, he would never want to make things weird for you guys. then, as if it was sent by the universe, matsuakwa spotted a grouping of tide pools tucked away in a small cove off of the shore. there wasn’t a single person in sight, not even in the collection of tide pools. without saying a word, matsukawa looped his free arm through yours and pulled you away from the boardwalk.

“matsu! where are we going?” you asked through giggles, a smile breaking out on your face.

“look, did you see these?” he asked, dropping your arm to gesture in front of himself.

your eyes widened as you took it all in, and within seconds you had rushed forward to start inspecting the small pools of water. matsukawa watched as you glanced over the many pools, before your sights settled on one in particular. you bent down to look through it, and matsukawa sucked in a quick breath. he felt like a creep thinking about how your ass looked while you were digging through tide pools, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“omg matsun come here!” you exclaimed suddenly, making his heart skip a beat.

for just a second he thought perhaps you caught him, but your eyes never left the tide pool in front of you. he walked over to stand next to you, and looked to what you were pointing at. a small coral colored starfish was hugging the base of a rock surrounding the pool. you could hardly contain your excitement, and it made a smile break out on his face as well.

“that’s so cool! i don’t think i’ve ever seen a starfish in person before,” you rambled excitedly.

then, you straightened up from your bent-over position, and your gaze looked up towards matsukawa. once your eyes met, it was like a magnetic pull. your eyes were sparkling, full of delight at your discovery, with something else brewing beneath. it was an intense look, and if the pull wasn’t so strong, matsukawa would’ve shied away from you. your eyes were captivating, and he had never noticed how you had small flecks of gold decorating your irises. matsukawa was sure he looked like a gobsmacked idiot right now, but he couldn’t care less. you were beautiful, and he needed to soak in as much of you as he could.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

you could feel your heart beating in your throat. the way matsukawa was looking at you made you feel like all of the stars in the sky. he was awed, and it made you feel like he was seeing every inch of you. like there was nothing you could hide from him. it was rare to have a moment with someone where no words are needed. you were able to notice the small crinkle in the corner of his eyes, and the drips of water running down his neck from his still-wet hair. there was one bead of water running from his temple, and before you could even realize what you were doing, you reached out and caught it with your thumb.

your hand rested against the side of his neck as your thumb carefully swept the droplet up, but you didn’t move your hand away. his skin felt hot underneath your touch, but despite that he didn’t make a move to get away from you. instead, you felt his hand delicately wrap around your waist and gently pull you closer.

now, you were sure you were red from head to toe. his hand felt heavy against your bare skin, and you couldn’t help but notice every single thing about his touch. it was soft, and you could count each individual finger he had placed against your skin. his grip tightened, drawing a small gasp out of your mouth.

“is this okay?” matsukawa asked, his voice hushed, like if he spoke too loud the moment would shatter.

you nodded, unable to get any words past the lump in your throat. now that you stood closer to him, you could tell exactly what he smelled like. he was warm and musky, without being too juvenile. it was nothing like the axe he used in high school. the scent was overwhelming you, making your head spin. you could hardly think any rational thoughts, especially not when your gaze dropped to his bare chest again. your eyes quickly darted back up to his face, where his smile was turning into more of a smirk.

“now what are you looking at?” he teased, pressing his fingers tighter against you.

“you smell good,” you said, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated.

matsukawa tilted his head to the side, leaning more into your palm that was still resting against the junction of his face and neck.

“oh yeah?” he asked, confidence growing in his tone.

you nodded, once again unable to muster up anything to say. almost involuntarily, your fingers crept into his curls, grasping onto the small strands of hair. the slight tug brought matsukawa’s gaze lower on you, and he pulled you in even closer. you were now just a step apart from being skin-to-skin, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. like his energy was pulling you in closer. it was captivating

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

matsukawa knew he had to act now. this moment was like a blue moon, so rare he didn’t know if it could ever be replicated. he had you alone, and your attention was completely wrapped up in him. matsukawa hoped with everything in him that he hadn’t misread the energy, and he went to close the gap between you.

his eyes darted down to your lips, and back up to your eyes. he looked for any semblance of uncertainty on your face, but he was met entirely with a sense of longing. a hungry sense of longing, like you needed him.

matsukawa took action, pulling you flush against his chest and leaning into you. he stopped with his lips just barely grazing yours, needing final confirmation that this is what you wanted. he looked into your eyes one last time, and before he had the chance to discern how you were feeling, you hummed out a small sound of wanting.

“matsu, please kiss me,” you whispered, your fingers tugging against his scalp harder.

the bags of food in his other hand dropped to the ground, and matsukawa could barely spare a second to be thankful that they landed comfortably on the sand. his now free hand joined his other on your waist, and he circled your body in his grasp. then, finally, he pressed his lips against yours.

it was like he was on fire. flames shot up his back, leaving him tingling all over at the contact. you moved in sync, barely starting out soft before passion crept into the kiss. his lips were bruising against yours, but you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. you just pushed back harder against him, like you couldn’t get close enough. matsukawa grazed his teeth against your bottom lip, causing you to let out a small gasp. he took the moment to run his tongue against your open lips, and another small breath escaped you.

matsukawa felt feverish, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if this whole thing was a fever-induced hallucination. having you right here, pressed against him and wanting was like a dream come true. all of the sudden he felt you grasping against his bare back with your other hand, your nails digging into his skin. it took everything in him not to groan at the feeling. then, you separated for air, not putting any distance between your faces. you were breathing shallow, your gasps ghosting over his lips, keeping the fire inside him burning.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“do you think they’re wondering where we are?” you asked, your voice coming out soft and breathless.

matsukawa gave you a small chuckle, “definitely. i’m sure they’re all missing you the most though,” and then he leaned in towards your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper, “i mean, you have been the eye candy of the day.”

your cheeks burst into a blush for what felt like the millionth time today.

“oh c’mon, i don’t think that.”

“really? everyone’s been staring at you today. it’s why i had to let you know. i want you to be mine y/n. i don’t want anyone to stare at you like that, except me.”

you shyly looked away from matsukawa, unable to handle the flattery being thrown your way. your head was swimming with a thousand different thoughts, and you couldn’t seem to come to a conclusion in your head. was this matsukawa’s way of saying he liked you? or was he just calling you hot? had he always felt this way, or was it just a matter of you being scantily clad and him being desperate?

he gave your waist a slight squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts, and your gaze met matsukawa’s eyes once again.

“what are you thinking about? and be honest with me this time.”

you gave him a soft smile at his reference to earlier, but struggled to think of what to say. how could you encapsulate so many questions into one, without seeming like you were thinking way too hard about everything.

“just…” you trailed off, biting your bottom lip softly in thought.

as your eyes were cast downwards, matsukawa brought a hand off of your waist to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you look worried, is everything okay?”

you nodded quickly, bringing your eyes back up to his face. you saw the concern written all over him, but you also noticed a scared look in his eyes. like he was thinking you were about to reject him. but still, you couldn’t find the words to say what you meant.

matsukawa took a step back, his hands leaving your waist. he raised one hand to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make things weird. we can just forget about this if you want,” he said, sadness creeping into his tone.

“no!” you replied quickly, before you were able to think of what you really wanted to say.

a smile returned to matsukawa’s face at your reply, but he gave you a moment to speak.

“i…i like you. probably more than you like me, and i just don’t want to come on too strong if that’s not what this was about. i mean, like, i know we’ve known each other forever, and i always thought you felt pretty indifferent towards me in that way, and i just, i don’t know. i like you. but if that’s too much for you it’s okay, i’m not like expecting anything from you or anything i just-”

matsukawa reached out and placed his arms around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and before you could even process the moment, he was chuckling at you.

“seriously y/n, you thought i was indifferent about you? i’ve liked you forever, you just made me so nervous in high school, i didn’t know what to do with myself,” he said earnestly.

your heart was jumping for joy. you looked up at him, bringing your gaze away from the ground.

“really? you’re not joking with me?” you asked, finding it hard to believe that the boy you’ve loved for so long has always reciprocated your feelings.

matsukawa nodded, “not joking, i promise. i think you’re the most amazing girl ever, and that bikini definitely wasn’t helping me keep my feelings to myself.”

his fingers were toying with the straps of your bottoms, making heat scorch your face again.

“matsukawa, you’ve gotta stop that or we’ll never make it back to the beach,” you said.

he laughed, dropping his hands once again before reaching down to grab the long forgotten bags of food off the ground. then, he held out his other hand for you to grab. you intertwined your fingers, unable to keep the grin off your face.

“you should call me issei,” he noted as you began your walk back to the beach.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“what do you think is keeping them so long?” oikawa asked as he gave the volleyball they were playing with a small hit towards iwaizumi.

iwaizumi quickly sent the ball towards hanamaki and then shrugged.

“who knows, maybe the line was long.”

“but we’ve seen like five groups of people leave to get food, and come back since they left!” oikawa exclaimed, clearly quite hungry.

“i bet they’re hooking up, did you see the way matsukawa was looking at y/n today?” hanamaki asked cheekily before hitting the ball back.

oikawa mimed gagging before catching the ball that had been sent his way.

“i hope not, my meal doesn’t deserve to see all that.”

“like you wouldn’t do exactly the same,” iwaizumi shot back with a roll of his eyes.

oikawa then sent the ball flying towards him, a bit more aggressively than probably necessary.

“i would never keep you guys waiting during mealtime!”

#matsukawa issei #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #v4mpfluff #v4mponeshots

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hanlight · 2 years ago

Text

Kalle Rovanperä had a Saturday morning for the ages!

#kalle rovanperä #kalle rovanpera #wrc #world rally championship #rally portugal #motorsport #mine #NO COMMENT about the quality #I went through HELL just to screen record it #and of course the lighting had to be awful too

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aspenmissing · 3 days ago

Note

ok but hear me out: gurl dad Jayce 🤩

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴅᴀᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ!! || 3494 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ||

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴄᴜᴛᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀʟᴏᴀᴅ!!

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪʀʟ, ɪ. ʜᴇᴀʀ. ʏᴏᴜ! ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | xɪᴍᴇɴᴀ | ᴀʀᴇʟʟᴀ

Jayce had never imagined how much his life would change once Arella was born. The once carefree, determined inventor was now a soft, doting father. Every moment he spent with his daughter felt like a treasure, each second full of joy and worry in equal measure. As Arella’s tiny hand wrapped around his fingers, Jayce’s heart swelled with a kind of love he hadn’t thought possible.

They had chosen the name Arella because it meant "angel" in a language from a distant place, a symbol of the light she brought into their lives. For Jayce and Y/N, it was a perfect fit. Arella had filled their world with joy, just as her name suggested, and every time they called her, it reminded them of the gift they had been given.

He often found himself following her around the house, keeping a careful eye on her as she explored. Whether she was in the garden picking flowers or running through the halls, her laughter filled the air, light and carefree. Arella, just shy of four, was a curious ball of energy. Her bright eyes were always full of questions, her smile lighting up any room she entered. She adored her father, and wherever Jayce went, Arella was never far behind. Whether he was in the workshop tinkering with new inventions or simply relaxing at home, she would climb onto his lap, demand his attention, and somehow manage to make even the most serious of moments feel lighter.

Jayce had always been focused on his work, but nothing compared to the joy he felt watching Arella grow. She was a constant reminder of the love he shared with Y/N, a love he never thought he’d experience in such a profound way. Every scraped knee, every giggle, every mischievous grin—he cherished it all, even if it meant his worry sometimes got the best of him.

One bright afternoon, Y/N and Jayce decided to take Arella to visit her grandmother Ximena. The walk to Ximena’s house was always a peaceful one, the sun high in the sky and the world around them buzzing with life. When they arrived, the warm aroma of spices and freshly baked bread greeted them as they entered, filling the air with a sense of home. Arella’s eyes immediately lit up when she spotted her grandmother in the kitchen.

"Abuela! What are we making today?" Arella bounced on her feet, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement as she rushed over to the stove. (Grandma)

Ximena, with her signature smile, turned to greet them, flour dusting her apron. "Today, my dear, we’re making pastries. You can help, of course!"

Jayce, ever the protector, lingered by the door. His gaze flicked nervously between Arella and the sharp utensils on the counter. He couldn’t help it—he was her father, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. As Arella climbed onto the stool beside Ximena, Jayce couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward, a hesitant hand reaching out to stop her.

But Y/N, who knew exactly what Jayce needed, placed a gentle hand on his arm. "She’s going to be fine, Jayce. Let her have fun," Y/N said, her voice soft but firm. She could see the worry in his eyes and understood it all too well. Parenthood had softened them both, but Jayce’s protectiveness was a part of who he was.

Jayce hesitated, then reluctantly stepped back, though his eyes never left Arella. He watched with a mixture of awe and concern as Ximena began to show Kaia how to knead the dough. Arella’s little hands, still not quite able to do it all on her own, were covered in flour as she tried to mimic her grandmother’s movements. The dough was squashed here and there, flour scattered across the counter in a chaotic yet endearing pattern.

"Careful, Arella," Jayce murmured under his breath, his eyes darting nervously at the rolling pin and the knife on the counter. "Don’t hurt yourself, ángel"

Ximena grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. She could see how much Jayce cared, and she knew Kaia would be just fine. "It’s all part of learning, Jayce. Let her get her hands dirty." Her voice was playful, reassuring, and somehow able to make Jayce’s worries feel less overwhelming.

But Jayce couldn’t help it. He hovered, his eyes tracking every little movement Arella made. She reached for the rolling pin and clumsily rolled it across the dough, her little tongue sticking out in concentration. A small part of him was sure she’d somehow hurt herself, maybe slip with the rolling pin or get dough in her hair, but instead, Arella’s face broke into a delighted grin as she turned around to show Y/N and Jayce the dough.

"Look, Mama! Papa! I made it flat!" Arella’s voice was full of pride as she presented her creation.

Jayce couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face, and for a moment, all the worries melted away. He kneeled beside Kaia, brushing flour from her hair as he kissed the top of her head. "You’re a natural, sweetheart."

Y/N chuckled softly, watching Jayce’s concern fade into the warm affection he always displayed for their daughter. "She takes after you, Jayce," Y/N teased. "She’s got that inventiveness."

Arella beamed at her father’s praise, before turning to her grandmother. "Abuela, look!" she said, holding up her flattened dough triumphantly. "I did it! I did it just like you!"

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of laughter, flour fights, and shared moments of joy. Arella’s giggles filled the air as she rolled dough and shaped it into little circles, making her grandmother and father proud. But even as Arella became more absorbed in the task, Jayce couldn’t quite shake the need to hover nearby, ensuring his little one was always safe.

The sun was high in the sky, and the three of them headed out for a walk through the park to get some fresh air. Arella, full of energy, raced ahead of them, her small feet carrying her quickly across the grass. Jayce walked beside Y/N, hand in hand, both of them watching Arella with affectionate eyes. But in an instant, Arella’s foot caught on a rock, and she stumbled forward, tripping and landing hard on the ground.

Arella let out a small gasp, but before Y/N could even react, Jayce was there, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed to Arella’s side, lifting her into his arms with frantic care. "Arella! Oh, Angel, are you okay? You’re hurt, you’re hurt!" His voice wavered with concern, panic creeping in.

Arella blinked up at him, a little surprised, but when she saw the scrape on her knee, she shrugged nonchalantly. "I’m fine, Papa! It’s just a scratch!" Her voice was full of confidence, as if her father’s worry was completely unnecessary.

Jayce’s heart ached seeing her hurt, his face showing clear distress as he carefully examined her knee. "It’s just a little scrape, but I need to clean it, Arella. You have to be careful."

Arella, on the other hand, simply dusted herself off and began to stand up, her small hands brushing dirt off her dress. "It’s nothing, Papa," she insisted, her big brown eyes meeting his with a smile that was so unbothered it made Jayce’s heart do a double-take.

Y/N walked up beside them, shaking her head with a soft laugh. "Jayce, look at her. She’s not bothered at all. You’re the one making a fuss."

Jayce, still holding Arella in his arms, looked over at Y/N with a small smile, but his worry never quite left. "I can’t help it. She’s my little girl," he muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of Arella’s head. "I just want to keep her safe."

Arella giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling in close. "I’m tough like you, Papa. I’m okay, promise!"

Jayce’s heart melted at her words, the overwhelming concern still lingering but tempered by her unshakable confidence. He kissed her forehead gently, his fingers brushing her hair back. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

As they continued their walk home, Jayce found himself walking just a little slower, holding Arella a little tighter. Parenthood had changed him, but in the best possible way. The little moments, the small gestures, the quiet love—they were everything to him. And with Y/N by his side, he knew he could face anything, so long as they were together.

It was a typical afternoon in the house—quiet, calm, and punctuated by the sound of Arella's little feet pattering across the floor. She was racing through the hallway, her high-pitched giggles echoing as she pretended to be some kind of wild creature on a mission. Jayce and Y/N were in the living room, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when suddenly, there was a loud crash from the hallway.

Both of them jumped to their feet, eyes wide. Jayce’s first instinct was to rush over, but before he could move, Arella appeared at the doorway, her hands behind her back, looking utterly innocent. The air around her seemed to crackle with mischief.

"Uh-oh," she said, eyes wide as she glanced over at the shattered vase on the floor. "The wind did it."

Jayce froze, his brow furrowing as he looked at the scene. The wind? There was no breeze in sight, and the window was closed. But when he looked down at Arella’s big, wide eyes, a look of absolute sincerity on her face, his expression softened.

"The wind, huh?" Jayce asked, crouching down to her level, his hand gently touching her messy hair. "Are you sure, angel? The wind made the vase fall?"

Arella nodded earnestly, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Papa. The wind... it was very strong."

Y/N, who had been watching the whole exchange, couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh, come on, Jayce. Really? The wind? You’re buying that?"

Jayce, ever the soft-hearted father, just smiled and shrugged. "It is a very strong wind..." he murmured, completely enchanted by Arella's puppy dog eyes.

Y/N threw her hands up in the air, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. "Unbelievable. You’re letting her get away with it again? This is so unfair. She has you wrapped around her little finger."

Arella, noticing her mother's tone, quickly added, "I didn't break it, I promise. It was just... the wind." She gave Jayce one last pleading look, and Jayce melted under the weight of her charm.

Y/N sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. "You’re just encouraging her to be a little terror, you know that?"

Jayce looked over at Y/N, a sheepish smile on his face. "I can't help it. She’s got those eyes. It’s like she has a superpower or something."

Arella grinned mischievously, knowing she had won the battle. "I told you, Mama. The wind did it!"

Y/N shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Next time, Arella, the wind can clean up the mess too."

Jayce chuckled, still holding Arella in his arms. "You know, I think I’ll have to go have a serious talk with that wind."

And with that, the three of them found themselves laughing together, the broken vase nothing more than a casualty of Arella’s impressive ability to charm her way out of trouble.

Later that afternoon, after the vase incident had been thoroughly forgotten (or at least dismissed by Jayce), the family was unwinding in the living room, enjoying a rare moment of calm. The soft sound of laughter and conversation filled the air when suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Arella’s eyes immediately lit up, and before anyone could react, she was already darting towards the door like a whirlwind.

"Uncle Vikky!" she squealed, flinging the door open with exuberance.

Viktor stood on the doorstep, his usual serious expression softened by the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at his niece. He leaned slightly on his cane, his gaze filled with affection that he usually kept hidden behind his composed exterior.

"Hello, little one," Viktor greeted, his deep voice gentle but unmistakably fond. He was about to step inside when Arella suddenly dashed toward him, her tiny feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted with a wide grin plastered on her face.

Arella squealed, and without hesitation, she leapt into his arms, her small hands wrapping around his neck in a tight hug. Viktor shifted his weight to accommodate her, but the force of the jump caught him off guard, making him wobble slightly on his cane.

Y/N, who had been watching from the couch, quickly stood up with a raised voice. "Arella, be careful!" she warned, but her tone was filled with concern more than anything else.

Viktor, ever the steady figure, gave a quiet laugh, his smile tender as he steadied himself and wrapped one arm around Arella, holding her securely. "It’s alright, Y/N," he reassured her with a faint smile. "She’s lighter than she looks."

Arella, completely unfazed, pulled back just enough to meet Viktor’s eyes, her excitement practically radiating off of her. "Uncle Vikky, I missed you!" she said confidently, as though she hadn’t seen him in a decade.

Viktor chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small, affectionate grin. "I saw you just yesterday, Arella," he teased, though his voice carried a warmth that was rare for him.

"I know," Arella said, her expression suddenly becoming serious as she held her arms wide to demonstrate just how much she missed him. "But I missed you this much!" she said, nearly knocking Viktor's cane out of place as she swung her arms about.

From the couch, Jayce smiled warmly at the sight of Viktor with his guard down. It was a rare thing to see the usually reserved Viktor so relaxed, and seeing him with Arella was like watching a gentle giant with his favourite little companion.

Y/N, now sat back down next to Jayce, rolled her eyes with a playful grin. "You’d think Viktor was a soft teddy bear, the way she has him wrapped around her finger," she said, her tone teasing.

Viktor shot her a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still betrayed his soft spot for Arella. "I’m not a teddy bear," he muttered, though there was an undeniable fondness in his voice.

Arella, now holding on to his hand with an enthusiastic grip, bounced around him, pulling him in various directions as she eagerly began to lead him around the living room. "Uncle Vikky, come on! I have so many things to show you!"

Viktor, though a little slower in his movements due to his cane, didn’t resist. He let Arella pull him along as she led him from one spot to the next, her small legs practically running ahead of him.

Jayce leaned back against the couch, amused. "You’re really letting her treat you like a jungle gym, Viktor."

"She insists." Viktor said, his tone still tinged with reluctance, though his gaze softened as he followed Arella around the room. It was clear to everyone that, despite his usual stoicism, Viktor had developed a special bond with his niece, one that brought out a side of him even he rarely showed.

"Uncle Vikky," Arella suddenly exclaimed, pulling him to a halt in front of the couch, "can you teach me how to make a machine that really makes my toys fly? I want to be just like Daddy!"

Viktor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A flying toy machine, huh? That’s quite ambitious."

"But you’re super smart" Arella said, her voice full of the same confidence Jayce often had when he was sure of something. "You can do it."

Viktor glanced over at Jayce, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "She has a point," Jayce said, grinning. "She believes you can make anything work."

Viktor nodded slowly, looking back down at Arella with an affectionate gleam in his eyes. "Alright, little one. We’ll make a deal. I’ll help you, but you have to promise me something."

"What?" Arella asked eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

"You have to listen very carefully when I explain how things work," Viktor said, adopting a mock stern tone. "And no rushing ahead like last time."

Arella giggled, already bouncing on her feet in excitement. "Deal! I’ll listen super carefully!"

With that, Arella eagerly took Viktor’s hand and began dragging him toward the workshop, her excitement nearly pulling him off his feet. Viktor, though still walking steadily with his cane, let himself be led by the little whirlwind, a faint smile still playing on his lips.

As they passed the doorway, Y/N called after them, her voice teasing but with an underlying note of concern. "Don’t blow anything up, you two!"

Viktor’s laugh, soft and barely audible, echoed down the hall. "We'll be careful," he called back, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely bothered by the warning.

As Viktor and Arella disappear into the workshop, Jayce and Y/N exchanged a knowing look, both of them silently acknowledging the bond between Viktor and Arella. It was a rare sight, but one that warmed their hearts. Viktor had always been the more distant one in the family, but Arella had a way of melting even his toughest exterior.

"Guess it’s just you and me for now," Y/N said, settling back on the couch with a contented sigh. She rested her head on Jayce’s shoulder, her voice playful. "And I bet Viktor doesn’t even realize how much he enjoys being her favourite person."

Jayce smiled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Guess so. But it’s nice to see him finally being the soft one for a change."

Y/N chuckled. "You really think Viktor’s soft?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jayce leaned in to kiss her forehead, a smile tugging at his lips. "I do. But only for Arella." He paused, his expression shifting slightly. "She really has a way of making everyone feel... special, doesn’t she?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Viktor and Arella through the open workshop door, both of them deep in conversation about flying toy machines. "She does. It’s like she has a magic touch with people."

There was a comfortable silence between them before Jayce spoke again, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "You ever think about having another one?" he asked, his voice soft but full of curiosity. "Another baby, I mean."

Y/N blinked in surprise, looking up at him with a small frown. "Another one?" she echoed, her voice light with amusement. "Are you sure you’re ready for two of Arella?"

Jayce chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in his smile. "I don’t know. It just crossed my mind, you know? I feel like our family’s perfect... but I could see a little sibling for Arella. She’d be great with one."

Y/N tilted her head, considering the idea. "You think I’d be great with another one?" she asked teasingly, a playful glint in her eye. "You’re the one with the nerves of steel to handle it."

Jayce smiled, his heart swelling with affection for both his wife and daughter. "Yeah, I guess so. But I can’t help it. I just love how our family feels... it’s just so perfect, you know?"

Y/N leaned into him, kissing his cheek softly. "We’ll see, Jayce," she said with a wink. "But for now, I think Arella’s plenty enough of a handful."

Jayce laughed softly. "Yeah, I think she’s teaching us all how to be more patient."

Y/N chuckled, resting her head back Jayce’s shoulder. "If Arella’s teaching us patience, I think we’re in for a long lesson."

Jayce wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "I wouldn’t have it any other way," he said quietly, his voice full of warmth. "She’s worth every bit of it."

The two of them sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of Viktor and Arella’s voices drifting from the workshop as they continued their little adventure. It felt peaceful, perfect even, and for a brief moment, they both let themselves bask in the quiet joy of their family—whatever the future might hold.

A year or so later, Jayce and Y/N stood in their living room, grinning at each other as they welcomed their second baby girl into the world. Their little bundle of joy, a perfect mix of both of them, was named Kaia. The name, meaning "sea" in Greek, was chosen because Jayce and Y/N had always felt like their love and their family were like the ebb and flow of the ocean—constant, ever-changing, and full of depth. As they cradled their new-born, Arella looked up at them with excitement, her eyes already filled with the same love and wonder she had for her sister. The family was complete, and Jayce couldn’t help but feel that everything had fallen into place in the most beautiful way possible.

#Arcane #Arcane Fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #Fluff #jayce x y/n #jayce x reader #jayce talis x reader #jayce x you #Dad!Jayce Talis #Dad!Jayce

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itsalwaysdark · 5 months ago

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under the cut bc it is relating to The thang rhat happened yesterday. so umm. idk how to tw it. i thought some very scary stuff happened to my body but none of it actually did but i talk abt it a bit in detaul and its a bit gruesome . and i rambled abt it in the tags for a bit so dont read those either if u r squeamish Andor just dont want to hear abt that rn . apologies

in hindsight now im calming down a bit it is like. funny in a sad way that while i was literally Convinced that my rib had punctured my lung and also my heart and blood was filling my entire body. i Kept on asking the paramedics Is this gonna be really expensive . im sorry. um is this ambulance gonna cost a lot . and when my mom got to the room i kept crying and saying sorry in between my literal gasping for breath and gagging on what i was convinced was blood and uncontrollable shaking bc i was rly rly rly terrified it was going to cost her a lot of money . bit funny. where r your priorities girl...

#i rly and truly thought i was dying i was like. it ws funny bc i had just talked abt my weirdness thing. and i was like. Feeling the blood #getting up to stumble to the living room and my vision was going fully dark and i was literally in my brain like Its bc i talked abt it now #theyre getting me . this abtually is rhe end for me. i got a little too honest and now my pumishment is duing of internal bleeding jn front #of my entire family. of course that didnt happen bc i didnt actually Lay down too hard and my ribs stabbed my insides to death. bc that like #isnt a thing bodies can do. also i tried to lightly and casually explain what i thought had happened to me to lamp and it quickly became not #light and casual so then i changed the subject midway theough. whatever #its rly rather funny tho bc it was literally a moment of like Damn the things in my head that tell me i can never tell anybody about my #problems and i have to keep it all to myself and not seek help for anything or horrible awful things will happen to me and everyone i love #avrually were right . so i have to listen to them forever now If i live past this. but funny. great situation for the terrified man #its fine tho. just a girl momenttt and now its fine #i know i dont come off as someone who keeps their issues to themselves LOL but. well. 1 this is online 2 i treat this more as a diary 3 i #only post abt like. Some of the stuff on here. i do actually keep most of it private bc itisnt rly intelligible to anybody but me. you guys #i dont even talk to u guys abt like. the g. or the website. and those r like base fundamentals of what goes on in my head #but its ok. and im not going to tell anybody abt those ever even mentioning them feels a bit wrong. but theyre the like... Easiest to talk #about one supposes.#a2t #jic

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rafecameronssl4t · 6 months ago

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Golf day || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: INSPIRED BY THIS TIKTOK

Warnings: pure fluff hehehehe

Word count: 497

A/n: if anyone has any tiktoks that they want me to turn into a Rafe fic, send them thru pls!!!! I love finding random vids on my fyp that are so Rafe coded. ALSO BEGGING FOR MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTSS

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Do you think she’ll enjoy it?” Rafe questions, turning his head to you, his eyes lingering on Mabel, comfortably nestled on your lap. He looks genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know she loves watching you do anything,” you reply with a reassuring chuckle, trying to soothe his anxiety. As you adjust the tiny hat on your daughter’s head, you can’t help but smile at her innocent excitement.

It was Mabel’s first time at the golf course, and Rafe had been on edge all morning. He’d peppered you with questions like, “Don’t you think it will be too hot?” and “What if she gets bored?” His nervousness was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

You had spent the morning reassuring him, reminding him repeatedly that Mabel would be perfectly fine. You knew she would be thrilled just to watch her dad play golf, her eyes following his every move with awe and admiration.

“Do you think she’ll like this spot?” Rafe asks as the golf cart comes to a gentle stop under the shade of a large oak tree. “Babe, you’re the one playing,” you giggle, enjoying his overprotectiveness. Rafe laughs softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Mabel, do you like it here?” he asks, his voice tender as he tickles her chin. Mabel responds with a delightful giggle that melts your heart.

You adjust Mabel on your lap so she’s facing Rafe, her wide, curious eyes tracking his every move as he unloads his golf clubs. The sun casts a warm glow over the course, and you can’t help but admire how handsome Rafe looks in his golf gear. “Doesn’t Daddy look so handsome, Bels?” you murmur to Mabel, pressing light kisses on her rosy cheeks. She giggles uncontrollably and tickling sensation.

Rafe turns at the sound of her infectious giggles, a broad smile lighting up his face. “You girls doing alright?” he calls out, his eyes sparkling with joy. You chuckle, giving him a thumbs-up and lifting Mabel’s tiny hand to wave at him.

Remembering that Rose wanted a video of Mabel’s first time at the golf course, you quickly pull out your phone and aim the camera at Mabel’s expressive face. She’s watching Rafe intently, her anticipation palpable.

As Rafe lines up his shot, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The moment the club makes contact with the golf ball, sending it soaring through the air, Mabel flinches in surprise. You can’t help but laugh, immediately clamping your hand over your mouth, feeling a bit guilty for laughing at her reaction.

Rafe shields his eyes with his hand, squinting into the distance to see where the ball landed. Satisfied with his shot, he turns back and walks towards you and Mabel, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Daddy’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Rafe chuckles as he reaches you, gently lifting Mabel from under her armpits and pressing a loving kiss on her round cheek.

You quickly snap a photo of the sweet moment. Their joy is infectious, and you can’t help but chuckle as you send the video and picture to Rose. Mabel’s earlier reaction to the sound of Rafe hitting the ball plays in your mind, making you smile.

Rafe notices your amusement. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his curiosity piqued as he sees you smiling at your phone. You glance up, grinning, and show him the video of Mabel’s startled reaction to his golf swing.

“Aww, I’m sorry, babygirl,” Rafe says with a laugh, his eyes softening as he watches the video. “I’ll let you know when I’m going to hit the ball next time.” Mabel, already captivated by her dad’s presence, giggles and reaches out to touch his face, her earlier surprise forgotten.

Rafe’s heart melts as he cradles Mabel in his arms, swaying gently. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice filled with love. Mabel coos in response, her tiny hands grasping at Rafe’s shirt.

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tonycries · 8 months ago

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Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna.

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.”

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too.

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You.

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?” You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Weird.

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account?

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got.

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.”

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off.

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man.

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion.

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor.

This was absolute torture.

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…”

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice.

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now.

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips.

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to admit - “-virgin.”

Oh.

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not?

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation.

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted.

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly.

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice.

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again.

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is.

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other.

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit.

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it.

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?”

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were.

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy.

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster.

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices.

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you.

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm.

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more.

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet.

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both?

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection.

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door.

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone.

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing.

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word.

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you. Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world.

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully.

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all.

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles.

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead.

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy.

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter?????

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack.

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy.

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already.

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game.

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum.

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over.

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him.

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you.

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will.

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there.

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter.

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

“Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.”

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body.

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him.

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but.

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you?

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit.

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again.

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you.

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you.

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs. So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all.

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won.

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera.

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies??

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right?

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo #gojo x reader

8K notes · View notes

solxamber · 2 months ago

Note

Imagine having mc take care of dorm leaders that turned into animals like riddle a hedgehog, leona a lion, Azul a octopus, kalim an otter, vil would definitely be a peacock, idia would be a cat, and lastly malleus a dragon. They would definitely turned into animals due to some spell and I mean imagine seeing a huge dragon outside the ramshackle dorm, it would be really shocking and funny at the same time. 😆

Zoo Tycoon: Housewarden Edition

In which they accidentally turn into animals.

a/n: i started vibrating the minute I saw this because that's such a cute concept and I have no self control so here we go

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle turning into a hedgehog was not on your to-do list today. But alas, here you were, holding a furious, tomato-colored hedgehog that refused to be handled by anyone but you.

“Aw, look at his little face!” Ace cooed, leaning in way too close.

Riddle puffed up, his tiny spines bristling in pure indignation. You could practically feel the how dare you emanating from his quivering form.

Deuce, ever the voice of concern, scratched his head. “What do we do now? Can he… even turn back?”

Ace smirked. “Maybe we just keep him like this. He’s a lot cuter when he can’t yell at us.”

Riddle launched himself at Ace’s hand, delivering a swift poke with his needle-sharp snout. Ace yelped, flailing backward dramatically. “Okay, okay! Geez, he’s still scary even like this.”

You cradled Riddle closer to your chest, where he settled down, still glaring daggers at the others. Somehow, he was perfectly content in your hands, even though he practically vibrated with rage whenever anyone else got near.

As the day went on, Riddle’s hedgehog antics only grew.

At lunch, he sat on your lap, sniffing your sandwich like a tiny food inspector. “You want a bite?” you teased, holding out a crumb.

His tiny paw batted it away with a disdainful look. Well, as disdainful as a hedgehog could manage. He turned his head toward the teapot, making his intentions very clear.

“Oh, of course. Tea for the hedgehog,” Ace snorted. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Later, in the library, Riddle climbed onto your textbook, curling up into a spiky ball to block your reading. You tried to nudge him gently. “Riddle, I need to study.”

He uncurled just enough to glare at you, his beady eyes burning with absolute authority. Message received: study time was over.

By nightfall, you were exhausted. Riddle was perched on a pillow next to you, looking surprisingly regal for a tiny woodland creature.

“Alright, Your Majesty,” you said, rubbing your temples. “How do we turn you back? Should we call Professor Crewel? Or maybe Professor Trein?”

Riddle chirped in protest, clearly not a fan of either option.

Deuce had another bright idea. “What if it’s, like, a true love’s kiss thing? Isn’t that how these fairy tale curses usually work?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

But Riddle fixed you with a surprisingly intense hedgehog stare, his little nose twitching.

“Wait, are you… agreeing?” you asked, mildly horrified.

Ace snickered. “Do it. Kiss the hedgehog. For science.”

After much internal debate (and external heckling), you sighed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Riddle’s tiny forehead.

There was a burst of light, and suddenly, you were nose-to-nose with a very human, very flustered Riddle Rosehearts.

He scrambled backward, covering his face with his hands. “W-well, that was… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” you echoed. “You asked for it!”

Ace howled with laughter in the background. “So it was true love’s kiss! You two are so gross!”

Riddle glared at him, but his ears were still bright red as he turned to you. “I suppose… I owe you my gratitude. And, um…” He cleared his throat, fidgeting. “Would you—if it’s not too much trouble—consider going out with me?”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re asking me out now?”

Riddle crossed his arms. “You did kiss me. It’s only proper!”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Sure, Hedgehog Prince. Let’s go on a date.”

Riddle muttered something about proper decorum, but his small smile said he wasn’t too upset about it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona turning into an actual lion wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened this week, but it was definitely in the top five.

“C’mon, Prefect.” Ruggie grinned as he all but shoved you into Leona’s room, slamming the door behind you before you could protest. “I got stuff to do, and someone’s gotta deal with him. He only listens to you anyway!”

You turned to find Leona—the lion version—lounging on his bed like the world’s crankiest housecat. His massive paws stretched lazily, his eyes locking onto you with the unmistakable air of finally, someone competent.

“Uh, hi, Leona,” you ventured, waving awkwardly.

He grumbled, a low rumble of approval that shook the floorboards, and flicked his tail in a way that said, Don’t leave.

It became clear very quickly that Lion Leona was just as much of a diva as Human Leona.

First, he refused to eat the steak that Ruggie brought him, pawing at it disdainfully until you had to personally cut it into perfect bite-sized pieces. He made a satisfied grunt after his meal, flopping down at your feet like you were the royal food taster he’d personally hired.

Then, there was the grooming incident.

“Leona, you have something stuck in your mane,” you said, pointing to a suspicious tangle.

He gave you a look that said, And?

Sighing, you grabbed a brush and carefully worked out the knot. To your shock, Leona let out a rumble that sounded suspiciously similar to a purr.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He blinked slowly, the feline equivalent of a smirk.

Ruggie, ever the opportunist, couldn’t resist stopping by to witness the chaos.

“Wow, Prefect, he’s basically a giant kitten with you around,” Ruggie teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Leona growled, a low warning rumble that sent Ruggie scurrying back. “Okay, okay! Sheesh, no need to get territorial. Have fun babysitting!”

You sighed, scratching behind Leona’s ears. “You’re really not helping my case, y’know.”

Leona just huffed and leaned into your touch, clearly unbothered.

By the end of the day, you were sprawled on the bed next to Leona, who was taking up approximately 80% of the mattress.

“You’re kinda cute like this,” you admitted, running your fingers through his mane. “Not that you’re not cute normally, but… y’know. Less grumpy.”

He gave you a look that somehow conveyed I am never not grumpy.

Feeling bold (and maybe a little delirious from exhaustion), you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a sudden, blinding flash of light, and before you could process what was happening, Leona was back in his human form, lounging beside you with his trademark smirk.

“Well, well,” he drawled, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t know you felt that way, herbivore.”

You spluttered. “I—what—this was true love’s kiss?! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—”

He leaned closer, cutting off your rant with a low chuckle. “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now. So… dinner? Or are you gonna keep brushing my hair all night?”

Your brain short-circuited, but you managed a weak, “Dinner sounds good.”

Leona smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Smart choice.”

From outside, Ruggie’s muffled voice shouted, “Hey, did it work? Can I come back now, or is he still a murder machine?”

Leona groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Sevens, someone muzzle that guy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Leona’s side. Maybe being stuck with him wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

Azul Ashengrotto

To be fair, you weren’t exactly surprised when Jade and Floyd ambushed you outside Mostro Lounge. Their grins alone screamed mischief.

“Shrimpy~,” Floyd sing-songed, grabbing you by the arm. “C’mon, we need your help.”

“Azul’s having a little… situation,” Jade added with a cryptic smile. “And we think you’re the only one who can help.”

Before you could protest, you were unceremoniously dragged into Mostro Lounge, through a hidden door, and deposited in front of a massive aquarium. Inside was—

“Is that an octopus?” you asked, squinting.

The octopus—no, wait, Azul—floated pathetically in the corner, looking as done with life as an eight-legged creature could manage.

“Yep,” Floyd said cheerfully. “Boss turned himself into an octopus. Wouldn’t let anyone near him, though, so…”

Jade handed you a bottle filled with suspiciously glowing liquid. “Breathing potion. You’re going in.”

“Excuse me?!”

Before you could escape, Floyd picked you up like a sack of potatoes and dumped you into the tank.

You flailed briefly, realizing the potion worked—thank Sevens—but also realizing you were now face-to-face with Octopus Azul.

“Uh, hi?” you ventured, swimming awkwardly closer.

Azul didn’t respond, but one of his tentacles twitched and pointedly smacked the glass. You got the impression he was saying Why me?

“It’s not like I asked for this, y’know!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Your goons threw me in here!”

Azul floated closer, his large, round eyes narrowing as if to say Yes, and they will pay.

It didn’t take long for Azul to warm up to you, mostly because he realized you weren’t leaving.

“Are you sulking?” you teased after his sixth dramatic float to the other side of the tank.

A tentacle flicked water in your direction, splashing you.

“Hey!” You swam closer and poked him on the head. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Azul responded by curling a tentacle around your wrist, pulling you closer.

“Okay, fine, you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his squishy head. “There, happy?”

Azul’s tentacles tightened slightly, and you were 90% sure he was smug about it.

After what felt like hours of tentacle shenanigans (including one terrifying moment where Azul tried to steal your potion bottle), you sighed.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” you said, booping his forehead.

Azul blinked at you, his gaze softer than usual. He looked so pitiful and huggable that, without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a bright flash, and suddenly you were face-to-face with human Azul, who was sitting awkwardly in the shallow end of the tank, his face as red as a lobster.

“W-What did you just—”

“Oh my Sevens, you’re back!” you interrupted, relief washing over you. “Thank goodness, I thought I’d have to live in here forever!”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “I—thank you. For… that.”

“No problem,” you said breezily, though your face felt like it was on fire.

Azul hesitated, fiddling with his glasses. “Would you, ah, perhaps… accompany me to dinner? As a token of gratitude, of course!”

“Sure,” you said, smiling. “But only if you promise to stop turning yourself into an octopus.”

He flushed even deeper, complaining something about “unavoidable circumstances,” but you couldn’t help laughing. Maybe dating an occasionally-octopus Azul wouldn’t be so bad.

From outside the tank, Floyd’s voice rang out: “Aww, Boss finally grew a backbone! Way to go, Shrimpy!”

Azul groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

You patted his shoulder. “Welcome to my life.”

Kalim Al-Asim

You really should have known something was wrong when Jamil showed up at your doorstep, eyes bloodshot and twitching slightly.

“I need your help,” he said, and those four words alone should’ve been your cue to lock the door and pretend you weren’t home.

But you didn’t, and that’s how you ended up sitting in Kalim’s opulent room, staring at a very excited otter splashing around in a gold-lined kiddie pool.

“You’re telling me Kalim turned himself into this?” you asked, pointing at the small, slippery creature currently attempting to roll onto his back and failing.

“Yes,” Jamil said, deadpan, rubbing his temples. “And he refuses to let anyone near him. Except apparently you.”

Kalim—the otter—perked up at the sound of your voice, flipping over and waddling toward you. He made a happy chirping sound before flopping dramatically onto your lap, his tiny paws grabbing at your shirt.

“See?” Jamil muttered, folding his arms. “This is why you’re staying here. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Kalim was, to put it mildly, a handful.

One moment, he was contentedly snuggling in your lap, and the next, he was zooming across the floor, knocking over priceless vases and dragging an entire silk curtain into his pool.

“Uh, Kalim?” you called, watching as he tried to balance a sparkling golden spoon on his nose. “Maybe we don’t need to destroy the room?”

Kalim chirped in protest, clearly having the time of his life. He then waddled over to you, clutching the spoon like it was a treasure, and deposited it in your lap with a proud squeak.

“Well, at least he’s sharing,” you muttered, patting his head.

From the corner, Jamil was silently mouthing “thank you” over and over like a man who had just been freed from a lifetime of torment.

Kalim’s kiddie pool was more like a miniature lagoon, complete with floating toys and what looked suspiciously like a jewel-encrusted raft.

At some point, Kalim decided it would be fun to drag you into the water.

“Hey—wait, no!” you yelped as his surprisingly strong little paws grabbed at your sleeve, pulling you toward the pool. “I’m not getting in there!”

Kalim chirped insistently, his big otter eyes boring into your soul.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “Don’t give me that look.”

He gave you the look.

Five minutes later, you were sitting in the pool, soaked and glaring at Jamil, who was clearly struggling not to laugh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you snapped.

“Immensely,” Jamil said, smirking.

After hours of otter chaos—during which Kalim managed to steal your shoe, splash water in your face, and attempt to juggle three golden coins—you finally sat back with a sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his head as he snuggled against you.

Kalim let out a happy chirp, his little paws clutching your hand. He looked so ridiculously adorable that, without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a sudden burst of light, and when you opened your eyes, Kalim was sitting in front of you, back to his usual self—though still dripping wet and grinning ear to ear.

“You kissed me!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up like the sun.

“I—uh—well,” you stammered, your face heating up.

“Does this mean you like me?” he asked, tilting his head with an innocent smile.

Before you could respond, Jamil groaned from the corner. “Sevens, just ask them out already.”

Kalim turned to you, his grin widening. “Will you go out with me?”

You blinked at him, still processing the fact that you had just kissed an otter-turned-human. But then you smiled, nodding.

“Sure, Kalim.”

Kalim cheered, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocked you over. Meanwhile, Jamil sighed in relief, celebrating about finally getting some peace and quiet.

From the doorway, a passing student peeked in, took one look at the drenched mess of a room, and decided it was better not to ask.

Vil Schoenheit

The day Vil Schoenheit turned into a peacock was the day you realized that your life at NRC was destined to never be normal.

“I don’t know how it happened!” Epel blurted, waving his hands in panic. “One second he was lecturing me about my skincare routine, and the next—poof! Peacock!”

“Of course, he’s a peacock,” you muttered, staring at the magnificent bird perched on the Pomefiore chaise lounge. The peacock in question—Vil—looked at you with a familiar haughty glare, which was impressive considering he now had beady bird eyes.

From the very beginning, Vil made it clear that he refused to be handled by anyone except you.

When Rook tried to approach him with a soothing poem about the beauty of nature, Vil screeched so loudly it sent even the huntsman scrambling.

When Epel tried to shoo him toward the door, Vil flared his tail feathers in a display so intimidating that Epel backed away, muttering, “This is worse than when he makes me wear lip gloss.”

But when you stepped forward, Vil immediately strutted over, his glossy feathers shimmering under the light. He circled you once before settling at your feet, letting out a dignified coo.

“Well, at least someone likes me,” you muttered, kneeling down to pat his head.

Vil preened under your touch, looking every bit the diva he was even in bird form.

Life with peacock Vil was… an adventure.

For one, he refused to eat anything that wasn’t served on fine china.

“Are you serious?” you asked, holding up a bowl of birdseed.

Vil turned his head away with a disdainful chirp, his tail feathers twitching in annoyance.

“Fine,” you groaned, dumping the seed onto a porcelain plate. “Happy now?”

Vil cooed in approval, delicately pecking at the food like it was a Michelin-star meal.

Then there was the incident with the mirror.

You found him perched in front of the Pomefiore vanity, admiring his reflection with an intensity that could only be described as borderline obsessive.

“You’re really leaning into the peacock thing, huh?” you teased.

Vil shot you a look that screamed How dare you, you pleb? before returning to his reflection, fluffing his feathers dramatically.

After a few days of peacock antics—including Vil refusing to let Epel touch his feathers (Glaring at him like he was screaming "He’s going to ruin them!”) and scaring off an unfortunate group of first-years with his aggressive tail display—you decided enough was enough.

“Alright, Vil,” you said, sitting down beside him. “We need to figure out how to fix this.”

Vil cooed softly, nuzzling against your hand.

You stared at him, your heart melting a little. He was undeniably cute in his current form, but you missed the human Vil—the one who could scold you for slouching and deliver a flawless monologue at the drop of a hat.

Without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his feathered head.

There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, you were no longer holding a peacock but a very human—and very flustered—Vil Schoenheit.

“You… kissed me,” he said, his cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink.

“I—uh—well, you were cute?” you offered weakly.

Vil blinked at you, his usual composure slipping as he processed your words. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Perhaps we should make this official,” he said smoothly, though the faint blush on his face betrayed his nerves. “Would you like to go out with me?”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. Then, you smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Vil’s smile widened, and for the first time since he’d turned back, you saw the confident, radiant Vil you knew and admired.

From the doorway, Rook peeked in, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Ah, the beauty of true love!”

Epel groaned, muttering, “This is the weirdest dorm ever.”

Idia Shroud

The day you were unceremoniously dragged into Idia’s room by Ortho, you knew something was amiss.

Ortho clasped his hands together as you stumbled inside. "Please take good care of Big Brother!"

“Wait, what?” you started, but Ortho was already zooming out the door, leaving you alone in the darkened chaos that was Idia’s sanctuary.

And there, sitting in the middle of the room on a glowing gaming chair, was a cat.

A very grumpy-looking cat with blue flame-like fur tips and unmistakable, judgmental yellow eyes.

“Idia?” you whispered, staring at the cat.

The cat hissed—its ears flat against its head. Yep, that was definitely Idia.

"Ortho wasn’t joking…" you muttered, inching closer.

Idia-the-cat glared at you, his tail swishing like a disapproving metronome. But as soon as you reached out a cautious hand, he hesitated before begrudgingly letting you scratch behind his ears.

He let out the tiniest, most reluctant purr.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your grin growing. “You’re so cute like this.”

The purring immediately stopped, and Idia swatted your hand away with a mortified meow that screamed, Don’t push it.

It didn’t take long for you to realize Idia-the-cat was just as much of a shut-in as his human counterpart.

When you tried to offer him some cat toys Ortho had left behind, he ignored them completely—until you dangled a toy shaped like a gaming controller.

Then, he lunged at it with surprising ferocity, claws out and eyes gleaming with an intensity that said, This is serious business.

You had to stop him from knocking over his prized figurines while he chased the toy across the room.

“Idia, stop! That’s a limited edition!” you cried, diving to save a teetering anime girl statue.

Idia froze mid-pounce, his tail twitching guiltily.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, setting the figure back on its shelf. “You’re worse than Grim.”

Idia meowed in protest, and you could swear he was rolling his eyes.

After a few hours of babysitting Cat Idia—during which he refused to eat anything but snacks from his secret stash and managed to trap himself inside a VR headset—you were completely exhausted.

You flopped onto his bed, sighing. “Idia, you're my friend, but you’re so much work.”

The cat jumped up beside you, curling into a surprisingly neat ball. His flame-like fur glowed softly in the dim light, and for a moment, he actually looked peaceful.

Unable to resist, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his head.

There was a sudden flash of blue light, and you yelped as a very human—and very embarrassed—Idia Shroud appeared beside you.

“W-What just happened?!” he stammered, his face as red as his fiery hair tips.

You blinked at him, your brain struggling to reboot. “Uh… I think true love’s kiss broke the curse?”

Idia froze, his expression cycling between mortified and completely panicked.

“Wait, d-does that mean you… like me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if you don’t, I-I’m just gonna go dig my own grave now—”

You cut him off with a laugh, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, I like you, you dummy.”

Idia stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, after a moment, he managed a small, shy smile.

“I… like you too,” he mumbled, fiddling with a lock of his hair. “So, uh… do you maybe wanna… go out? Like, on a d-date or something?”

Your heart did a little flip. “I’d love that.”

From the doorway, Ortho peeked in, his face lighting up. “Brother, I knew you could do it! This is the best day ever!”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Ortho, please!”

But despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop the small smile that lingered on his lips.

Malleus Draconia

The day began like any other—except for the part where a massive dragon blocked the sunrise by parking itself right outside your window.

You blinked blearily, rubbing your eyes. Surely, this was a dream.

Then you heard an enthusiastic voice from below. "Good morning! Do you like your new dragon?"

You leaned out the window to see none other than Lilia Vanrouge, waving up at you with far too much cheer for this absurd situation. Beside him, Sebek was on his knees, his fists clenched, eyes practically bleeding tears of devotion—or frustration. Hard to tell with Sebek.

“Lilia,” you called down, “what the hell is that?” You pointed at the dragon, who was now looking at you with suspiciously familiar glowing green eyes.

“Oh, that’s Malleus!” Lilia replied, as though this was completely normal. “He seems to have had a little… magical mishap.”

“MISTAKE OF FATE, NOT A MISHAP!” Sebek roared, glaring up at you like it was somehow your fault. “AND THE YOUNG MASTER HAS CHOSEN YOU TO TEND TO HIS NOBLE FORM!”

You stared at the dragon—Malleus—again. His enormous tail thudded against the ground in what you could only assume was agreement.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

After some coaxing (read: being dragged out by Sebek while you were still in your pajamas), you found yourself face-to-face with Dragon Malleus.

He lowered his massive head toward you, his glowing eyes narrowing in what you could only describe as smugness. When you hesitated, he huffed, a cloud of warm smoke billowing over you.

“Okay, okay, I get it! You want attention,” you grumbled, reaching up to pat his snout.

The dragon let out a low rumble of approval, curling his tail protectively around you.

Sebek sobbed dramatically in the background. “TO THINK THE YOUNG MASTER TRUSTS YOU ABOVE ALL OTHERS! IT IS BOTH AN HONOR AND A TRAVESTY!”

“Sebek, for the love of the Seven, stop yelling,” you snapped. “I already have a headache.”

Lilia chuckled from his perch on a nearby tree. “Oh, this is delightful. I wonder if I should be worried for you or amused by Malleus’s possessiveness.”

Dragon Malleus growled at Lilia, his tail sweeping protectively in front of you like a giant scaly barrier.

“Noted, noted!” Lilia said with a laugh, holding up his hands.

After a day of being followed around by a giant dragon who wouldn’t let you out of his sight (and growled at anyone who dared approach), you were officially at your wit’s end.

“Malleus,” you said, crossing your arms. “I know you’re stuck like this, but you can’t just… kidnap me for emotional support!”

Malleus blinked at you, his big dragon eyes somehow managing to look both sheepish and stubborn.

You sighed, stepping closer. “You’re kind of cute like this, though,” you admitted, reaching up to scratch his snout. His eyes half-closed in contentment, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Then, on a whim, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his scaly cheek.

There was a sudden burst of magic, and you stumbled back as the massive form of the dragon shimmered and shrank. In its place stood a very human—and very flustered—Malleus Draconia.

“Child of Man,” he said, his face uncharacteristically red. “Your… your kiss… it broke the spell.”

You stared at him, your brain buffering. “Wait, true love’s kiss was the answer?!”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”

From behind you, Lilia cackled. “Oh, how romantic! A tale for the ages!”

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “T-T-THE YOUNG MASTER’S TRUE LOVE?! UNBELIEVABLE!”

Malleus stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked down at you. “If this spell has revealed anything, it is that my feelings for you are genuine. Will you allow me to court you properly?”

You blinked, your face heating up. “Uh… yeah. Sure. But maybe next time, we skip the whole ‘giant possessive dragon’ thing?”

Malleus chuckled, taking your hand. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Sebek fainted on the spot.

Masterlist

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