#and realizing that they had it better off than him

[ds-angel1]

TEACHERS LITTLE PET

cw: SMUT(18+), teacher x student relationship, hitting it from the back(in the classroom), big age gap(ages aren´t specified), reader is a senior, i´m not american and have no idea how the school system works so please just smile and nod

wc: ~ 5.1k

a/n: tell me what you think of this dynamic and if you want more cause i have some ideas!! also this is the longest fic i´ve ever written, not my best work but atleast i managed to write something?? keep in mind i had a fever when i wrote this

Rafe had no idea how he ended up here.

Well, if he was being honest, he did. He just hated admitting it.

He hated kids. Teenagers weren’t much better. If they weren’t whining about something trivial, they were loud, obnoxious, and bursting with opinions they thought were groundbreaking. And high schoolers? They were the worst of the lot, caught in that unbearable limbo between childhood and adulthood, convinced they knew everything and that the world had been tailor-made to inconvenience them.

He hated his job, too. But after his father had all but shoved him into college, and he had somehow managed to scrape together an art history degree through a chaotic jumble of barely thought-out course selections, he needed a paycheck. He needed something, anything, to make use of the four years he had spent drowning in essays about the Renaissance and lectures on the symbolism of Baroque architecture.

And there it was, a high school history teacher.

He was fairly certain the school had been desperate. Desperate enough to hire the first applicant who could string a coherent sentence together about the American Revolution. And lucky him, that applicant had been Rafe.

The school itself was unremarkable. Small, under 400 students, just two squat brick buildings separated by a weather-beaten schoolyard that reeked of stale cigarette smoke and teenage apathy. Five hours from the Outer Banks, he could visit home whenever he wanted. Not that he did. There was nothing left for him there, nothing worth the drive, and frankly, there was nothing for him here either.

His days were a loop, a monotonous, uninspired cycle of standing in front of rows of disinterested, hormonal teenagers, rattling off lessons about long-dead historical figures far more interesting than any of his students would ever bother to realize. He graded half-assed essays, endured halfhearted excuses about missing assignments, and spent more time than he cared to admit staring at the clock, willing the hours to pass. Then, when the final bell rang, he trudged back to his apartment, a bare, impersonal space that he never bothered to decorate. No photos, no art, and no signs that anyone lived there. Just a bed, a couch, and a kitchen table that mostly went unused.

And then there were the truly miserable days, the ones where he was roped into subbing for freshman P.E., a biweekly exercise in self-inflicted torture. Half the girls refused to break a sweat, acting as if running a single lap would somehow lead to their untimely demise. The other half of the class consisted of cocky, over-competitive boys who treated dodgeball like a blood sport. He spent most of those periods standing on the sidelines, arms crossed, blowing the whistle when things got too heated, and watching the clock even more desperately than usual.

It was a dull, uninspired existence; monotonous, predictable, and entirely void of passion. He lived his life the way his students listened to the outdated documentaries he played in class: half-awake, uninterested, just going through the motions because it had to be done.

Until you walked into his class.

The first day of school after summer break always carried a certain energy; electric, restless, filled with voices overlapping in an unfiltered rush of stories from the last few weeks. As Rafe pushed open the door to his classroom, that familiar wave of chatter hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Laughter, exclamations, the scrape of chairs against the floor—it was all as chaotic as he had expected.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way to his desk, setting his thermos down on the bleached oak surface before picking it up again almost instinctively, taking a slow sip before returning it to its place. His fingers moved on autopilot, retrieving his school-issued laptop from his bag, pressing the power button, and waiting for the screen to glow to life. His gaze lifted, sweeping across the students, his students. The same faces he’d taught last year, now a little older, a little different, officially juniors.

But one face wasn’t familiar.

You.

Rafe spotted you almost immediately, sitting in the third row, right by the window where the morning sky stretched in endless hues of soft blue. You were listening—well, nodding, at least—to Amanda, whose mouth moved a mile a minute. He didn’t have to hear her know she was spewing an endless stream of conversation; Amanda was known for filling any silence, anytime, anywhere. But his attention wasn’t on her. It was on you.

A dark navy skirt draped over your thighs, the fabric shifting in gentle waves with every slight movement. Your top, a delicate white spaghetti strap with tiny baby blue flowers, hugged your frame, lace tracing the neckline, a small bow nestled right at its center. A beige cardigan hung loosely over your shoulders, two buttons left undone as if they had never been intended for use in the first place. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, not rigid, not loose, just… effortless. A few strands framed your face, soft wisps that moved when you turned your head, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost ethereal.

And sure, you looked beautiful, undeniably so. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way your eyes flickered around the room, quietly observing, absorbing. The way your lips parted slightly every so often, murmuring the occasional “Uh-huh” or “Yeah” in response to Amanda’s nonstop chatter, even as your mind seemed elsewhere. There was something in your expression, an almost hesitant curiosity, a quiet awareness, that made Rafe’s fingers pause over the laptop’s keyboard.

He had seen many faces in this classroom. Some familiar, some forgettable.

But yours?

Yours was impossible to ignore.

"Uh— okay, let’s get started. Settle down," Rafe called out to the students, his voice steady despite the chaos. The room buzzed with post-summer chatter, desks scraping against the floor as students found their seats. He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to exhale. The first day back was always like this, full of energy, distractions, and the struggle to rein everyone in. But today, there was another battle brewing beneath the surface, one he wasn’t prepared for.

He hoped that once the lesson began, he could shift his focus, and force himself to look anywhere but at you. He clung to that hope like a lifeline, but the moment he commanded their attention, he had yours.

And when your eyes locked onto him, he was trapped. Hypnotized. His breath hitched, pulse stuttering in a way it had no right to. For what felt like an eternity, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t shake the invisible thread tightening between you. His fingers curled into his palm, nails pressing against his skin.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to snap out of it, dragging his attention back to the board. He took a measured breath, gripping the chalk like it might anchor him. "Alright, I know you’re all still in vacation mode, but we need to get talking about history."

The usual grumbling came, but it was muted, fading as students settled into their seats. Good. The routine was safe. The routine was predictable. The routine wouldn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t.

"Before we dive in, we have a new student joining us this year from the senior class," he announced, keeping his tone even, impersonal. His gaze flickered back to you, just for a second, just long enough to acknowledge you without giving himself away. "Would you introduce yourself?"

A brief silence. You hesitated, shifting under the weight of so many eyes before murmuring your name.

"Great," Rafe said, far too quickly. He cleared his throat, turning back to the board. "So, what do we know about American history from the Industrial Revolution to the modern age?"

The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of discussion, textbook readings, and writing exercises. Normally, this was when he’d catch up on grading or chip away at whatever administrative work he had. But today? No. Today, his focus splintered, frayed at the edges every time he felt your presence in the room.

His eyes kept drifting.

To you.

It was reckless. Stupid. He knew it was wrong, knew exactly how it would look if anyone noticed. He wasn’t blind, he’d found students attractive before, but it had always been a fleeting thing, a passing thought dismissed before it could take root. A moment, nothing more.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just acknowledging that you were pretty, though you were. Incredibly so. This wasn’t just an absent-minded recognition of beauty. No, this was something deeper. Something that twisted in his gut and settled in his bones, something that made his breath catch when he wasn’t prepared for it.

Something dangerous.

His fingers raked through his hair as he stared down at his keyboard, typing nothing. He could tell himself it was just a dry spell, that he’d been avoiding distractions for too long, that it was simply physical. But that would be a lie.

Because it wasn’t just about desire.

It was about you.

And that was a problem.

The shrill chime of the bell split the air, and the classroom erupted into motion. Notebooks snapped shut, chairs scraped against the tile, and a low hum of voices swelled as students shoved books into backpacks, eager to escape into the chaotic freedom of lunch. You swung your bag over your shoulder, weaving through the shifting maze of desks, your focus locked on the door. The cafeteria was called, an oasis of noise and anonymity where you could blend in, and where no one was analyzing your every move.

But just as you stepped forward, a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

"Hey."

It wasn’t loud, but it had weight, like an anchor dropping into the sea of departing students. Something in the tone made your stomach twist. You turned, pulse hitching slightly, to find Mr. Cameron watching you from behind his desk. His expression was unreadable, calm but not necessarily kind.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron?" you asked, hesitating.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?"

It was phrased like a question, but you both knew it wasn’t. He gave a small nod toward the door as the last few stragglers trickled out, a silent instruction.

With a quiet sigh, you nudged the door shut behind them, the click of the latch sealing you in. The classroom, so full of life just seconds ago, now felt cavernous, the quiet pressing in around you. You hesitated before making your way back to his desk, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Mr. Cameron leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the surface of his desk, fingers steepled together. "So… I wanted to talk to you about last year." His voice was measured, and neutral, but something about it put you on edge. "You were in Ms. Wallace’s class, right?" His eyes flicked to a sheet of paper in front of him, though you were certain he already knew the answer.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Mhm." A simple answer for something far more complicated. Your history with Ms. Wallace wasn’t just a class; it was a long, exhausting battle, a relentless tug-of-war between frustration, unmet expectations, and a sinking feeling of inevitability.

Mr. Cameron studied you for a moment before speaking again. "Can you tell me what didn’t work? Was it her? The material? Her teaching style? Or was it something on your end?" His head tilted slightly, voice smooth, probing.

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers clenched the strap of your bag. "I guess I was just… kind of unfocused last year," you admitted, your voice barely above a murmur.

"Mm." He hummed, eyebrows lifting just slightly. "Just last year?"

Your stomach tightened.

"Because judging by today’s lesson, it seems like you're still a little… distracted. More interested in doodles than in history, huh?"

Heat crept up your neck, shame pooling in your chest. Your gaze dropped to the floor as if looking anywhere else might soften the weight of his words.

"You’d think," he continued, his tone carrying the faintest edge, "that after the school let you pass the year and only required you to retake this class, you'd put in a little more effort."

His words landed like a slap, sharp, deliberate. He knew exactly how unfair that was. Knew how it would make you feel. And yet, for whatever reason, he didn’t stop himself.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You want to pass, yes?”

His voice was low, almost teasing, each word curling around you like smoke. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his desk, dark eyes locked onto yours with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, and gave a quick, eager nod.

Rafe watched you for a lingering second, dragging it out just long enough to make you shift where you stood. Then, with an exhale that was almost too casual, he pushed himself up from his chair. He didn’t simply stand, he moved. Slow. Deliberate. A quiet display of control as he braced one hand against the edge of his desk, his weight settling into a lean. The aged wood creaked under him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

His focus remained entirely on you.

“And what do you think I could do to help you achieve that?”

Smooth. Measured. But there was something else beneath his tone, something just sharp enough to catch. Playfulness, maybe. Amusement. Or something more dangerous.

His gaze flickered, sweeping over you in a way that felt too quick at first, like a reflex he hadn’t meant to act on. But then, you saw it. The hesitation. The way his throat bobbed, how his fingers flexed at his sides before he rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to shake off whatever had just slipped through the cracks. But it was too late.

You had seen.

And by the way, his jaw clenched a second later, the way his lips pressed together, you knew he realized it too.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. Instead, your fingers fidgeted with each other, twisting and untwisting, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. The silence between you stretched, thick and electric, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you dared name but both of you felt.

Rafe inhaled deeply, the sound filling the quiet space between you. The air itself seemed different now, charged, like something unseen was pressing in, urging one of you to break.

He let the breath out slowly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that somehow felt… controlled. Intentional. And then, his eyes moved again.

This time, there was no rush. No flicker of hesitation.

Now, he studied you.

It was slow, almost methodical, th

6e kind of look that made heat crawl up the back of your neck, the kind that lingered just long enough in places that made you second-guess every inch of yourself. When his gaze reached your thighs, a nervous jolt ran through you. Almost instinctively, you gripped the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists, your knuckles turning white.

A nervous habit.

One he noticed.

One that made his eyes darken, not dramatically, not in some exaggerated, obvious way, but just enough. Just enough for you to catch the shift, to see the amusement flicker across his face like the hint of a smirk he didn’t fully let through.

“Hm?” The questioning hum he let out brought you back to reality, back to his question, and back to the answer that you had yet to give.

“Um… I- I don’t know…” you stammered out.

His eyes flick down again, taking in your upper body, eyes practically circling in on your chest. As if your body has a mind of its own, you straighten your back, puffing out your chest.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to yours, and for a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The air between you had thickened, dense with something unspoken, something dangerous. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow, almost pensive as if he were considering something he shouldn’t be. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh but carried no humor, just tension.

“Yeah?” His voice was softer now, quieter like he was testing the waters, like he was trying to figure out how far this would go before one of you came to your senses.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your throat felt tight, your skin burning where his gaze traced. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast, something that couldn’t be undone.

His fingers tapped once, twice against the desk, a steady rhythm that contradicted the barely concealed restraint in his posture. His body language told two different stories, one of hesitation, and another of inevitability. He was too close, and yet he wasn’t moving away.

Your breath hitched as he shifted, his body angling just slightly towards yours. It was a minuscule movement, one that could’ve been mistaken for a simple change in weight, but you knew better. It was deliberate. Calculated.

“You want to pass this class?”

The question was a mere whisper, his voice dipped in something that made your stomach twist. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding, too fast, too eager.

His lips twitched, almost smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He leaned in just enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, something dark and musky, something entirely him.

“Then you’re gonna have to focus.”

The way he said it—low, deliberate—sent a shiver down your spine. His words weren’t inappropriate, but the way he looked at you, the way his voice wrapped around each syllable, made them feel like something else entirely.

Your knees felt weak, your heart pounding against your ribcage as your grip tightened around the strap of your bag. The classroom, once suffocating in its quiet, now felt electric, charged with a current that neither of you dared acknowledge aloud.

Rafe exhaled again, this time slower, measured. His hand moved, not towards you, not touching, but close enough that you felt the shift in air between you.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your breath shuddered. “I—”

His head tilted slightly, watching, waiting. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable but entirely focused on you.

His jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his side like he was fighting something. A beat of silence stretched between you.

And then, Rafe moved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t forceful. It was a slow descent, a moment stretched into eternity. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you felt the ghost of his breath against your skin, close enough that your lips parted in anticipation before your mind could catch up.

He paused—just for a fraction of a second, just enough to give you the chance to pull away. Just enough to make it clear that if this happened, it was your choice, too.

But you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

And before you could let a single other breath out, his lips met yours.

Soft at first. Testing. A barely-there brush that sent a sharp current through your veins, igniting something dangerous and uncontainable in your chest.

He exhaled against your mouth, and in that moment it seemed like something in him snapped.

His hand found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your cardigan as he pulled you just slightly closer. His other hand lifted, skimming along your jaw before his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so.

The kiss deepened, slow but demanding, every movement deliberate, every touch igniting another spark beneath your skin. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, taking his time like he wanted to memorize the exact way you fit against him. He knew this was a mistake but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Your hands found his chest, pressing lightly against the fabric of his dress shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair at the contact, his grip on your waist firm but careful, as if he was anchoring himself as much as he was anchoring you.

The sharp sound of footsteps in the hallway shattered the fragile haze that had settled between you two, yanking you both back into reality.

Rafe was the first to react, pulling away, but only just. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath still ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. His fingers, warm and possessive, lingered at your waist a second too long before he finally, finally, let go, stepping back just enough to put a sliver of space between you. But not enough to erase what had just happened.

His eyes searched yours, dark blue depths swirling with something unreadable, something dangerous. His exhale was sharp, tension coiling through his jaw as he dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping at the strands like he was trying to ground himself.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough and uneven. Then, with more force, “Fuck. Fuck.”

His eyes shut tight, his head shaking in frustration as if the motion itself could erase the last few minutes. When they opened again, they were filled with something even more intense. In two strides, he was in front of you again, his hands gripping your upper arms, fingertips pressing just a little too hard, just enough to make you feel trapped between the heat of his body and the reality of the situation.

“This didn’t happen, okay?” His voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor to it like he wasn’t sure if he believed the words himself. His grip tightened before loosening again, as if he was at war with himself as if he didn’t trust his restraint.

You didn’t answer. You just stared at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, your breath uneven. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, and something in him cracked. His hands slid down your arms in a slow, deliberate motion, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his fingertips finally settled at your hipbones, pressing in lightly, his resolve wavered even more.

“This…” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

His voice was different now, lower, more raw. His fingers traced absent patterns along the fabric of your skirt as his mind spiraled, thoughts tumbling into a chaotic storm. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t like him. He had met you, his student, his goddamn student, less than an hour ago, and he had already crossed every possible line. And yet, even knowing that he wasn’t pulling away. He was moving closer.

His hands ghosted up your sides, the touch sending shivers across your skin. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. Can you do that for me?”

If someone had asked you that morning how you thought your first day of senior year would go, never in a million years would you have said this? Sure, you’d heard the whispers in the halls, and seen the way every girl’s eyes lingered when he walked past. Mr. Cameron was the forbidden fantasy, the subject of countless rumors and stolen glances. But he was also your teacher. And he had just kissed you.

You knew it was wrong. You should run, tell someone, do the right thing. And yet, as your mind battled between logic and desire, only one thought rose above the rest: he had kissed you.

Mr. Cameron, the man every girl in school lusted after, had kissed you. Had he done this before? Had he chosen others before you? Or was this different?

Even as doubt twisted itself into a tight knot in your stomach, you found yourself nodding, unable to speak, afraid your voice would betray you with the high-pitched, breathy sound of a girl who had just been touched by fire and didn’t want to step away.

“Good.”

His voice was barely a whisper, almost more breath than sound. The tension in the room grew, thick and suffocating, but you didn’t want to breathe anything else in. His fingers glided upward again, teasing over your waist, grazing over your ribs, leaving a trail of heat that made your entire body burn with anticipation.

Then, gently, with a tenderness that contradicted the fevered hunger in his eyes, he cupped your face. For one impossible moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, that he was going to throw every bit of logic and control out the window and claim your lips as he had minutes ago. But instead, he tilted your head slightly, his breath warm against your throat.

Then his lips were on your neck, barely touching, soft and slow.

A sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, escaped you, and his hands tightened ever so slightly, grounding you, making you feel small under his grasp. His mouth moved lower, pressing another kiss, and then another, each one more deliberate, more intoxicating than the last.

You barely registered the moment he turned you around, your back now facing him. Your hands trembled as they found purchase against the smooth surface of his desk, the dark wood cool beneath your fingertips.

Then, with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver racing down your spine, he placed his hands on your thighs, massaging them slowly, possessively.

His voice, low and dripping with something dark and dangerous, ghosted over your ear.

“Stay quiet for me.”

You sucked in a deep, long breath, letting your head fall and your eyes close.

The feel of the Rafe´s fingers slid under the skirt and the pads of his fingers started tracing along your panties, each tiny motion making your body stutter and tremble.

“You´re… you´re real special, you know that?” He spoke from behind you but you couldn’t respond, still holding your breath as if letting out the air would make the situation you found yourself in truly real.

When he had had enough of feeling the warm, twisted feeling in his stomach as he let his fingers glide over your clothed cunt, he pushed your underwear aside with his thumb, letting the tip of his index finger dip into your already quivering hole. The action intensified the feeling and buried it even deeper in his gut.

As if a shock of lightning had hit you, you bolted away from his hand a few inches, clenching your thighs tightly as you finally relieved your lungs of the air they were keeping trapped.

“M- Mr. Cameron…” You started to sputter out but stopped when you felt long, gruff fingers curl around the sides of your panties before pulling the black lace material down tantalizingly slow.

A cold rush of air hit your most intimate body part, making you gasp and pant. When you heard rustling and what you could only assume was the clink of your teacher´s belt, you shut your mouth and froze as you waited for the man´s next move.

“Listen,” he whispered your name like it was a sin he committed and you were a pastor, “You understand that this stays between us, yes?” His large hands massaged your ass and thighs, cursing under his breath when he saw how soaked you were.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement. You weren´t sure why. He was your teacher and by the looks of it and the feel of his hands on you, apparently a pedophile. But god did you want this; you wanted it, him, so bad.

Before you could so much as even let another thought pass through your head, he thrust forward, burying his cock inside you as deep as he could with multiple rapid movements of his hips. You moaned and practically screamed, the sounds of pleasure from you making Rafe reach around and cover practically half of your entire face.

“Fuck, you´re so tight,” he muttered sharply next to your ear as he started moving inside of you again, dragging his hips back only to snap them back forward less than a moment later.

“You like that, huh? Like being fucked by your teacher. Little teachers pet.”

He knew this was wrong, you were his student, and you probably didn´t even actually want this but for some fucked up reason that made it even better for Rafe, and as the thought crossed his mind it only made him thrust into you faster. At that point, you were damn near choking and sobbing into his hand, his palm making it hard for you to get a deep breath of fresh air in.

With a sense of panic taking over you, you tried to move your hands off of the desk to claw him off of your face but your attempts proved futile when Rafe pushed you flat onto the desk, forcing you to take his cock even deeper.

His free hand which wasn´t taking away your ability to breathe, found its way between your legs, his index, and middle fingers drawing squiggly circles on your clit. At the shock of pleasure that ran through you as he teased your extremely sensitive bundle of nerves, you clenched around his pipe and arched your back. You felt that familiar coil spring up in the depths of your stomach, your body rocking slightly backward against Rafe´s to help you relive the press soon.

Rafe pushed into you harder than he had any of the other time before then, hitting your sweet spot with a force that would have made you cry out, had you had your mouth free. His fingers applied pressure to the shapes they were making on your clit. The mix of heightened attention and force made your pussy squeeze around him and pushed you over the edge, coming with tears in your eyes.

After a few more brutal thrusts into your soppy cunt, he came as well, unloading into you, his thoughts barely registering anything at that point except for you and your body bent over his desk, his cum dripping out of your used up hole and onto your thighs.

Slowly he took away his hand from your face, a trail of spit following. As soon as you got a few much-needed breaths, you collapsed onto the desk, your body falling limp. Rafe pulled out of you, not wasting any time before he pulled his pants back on and redid his leather belt around his hips. He leaned over you, his body covering all of your sweaty skin as he dressed you in your underwear again.

“You did so good, darling. So, so good."

[yois2aki]

wc. 1.3k

caleb gives me tiktok bf energy.

btw reader has freckles in this... sorry i hate giving reader physical aspects but i think he'd be a sucker for freckles 😔😔😔

“this is a trap.”

caleb eyed you warily as you set up your phone, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. he had been through enough of your little social media games to know when something was dangerous territory, and this? this was a minefield.

“you realize there’s no way for me to win this, right?” he muttered, arms crossed.

you grinned. “oh, come on, it’s just for fun.”

“that’s what you said last time,” he grumbled. “then you pouted for an hour because i ranked going shopping together last.”

“okay, but that was an injustice.”

caleb groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing in defeat. “fine. let’s just get this over with.”

you clapped excitedly, hitting ‘start’ on the ranking filter as the first body part popped up.

1. hands

he barely hesitated. “fifth.”

you gasped. “fifth?!”

he side-eyed you. “do you want me to be honest or not?”

you huffed. “fine. but you better put my legs below that or we’re fighting.”

he smirked. “we’ll see.”

2. legs

he pressed fourth without a second thought.

“caleb.”

“what?” he said, completely unfazed.

you glared at him. “so my hands are below my legs?”

he shrugged. “it’s the truth.”

you groaned dramatically, flopping against the couch. “i don't want to play this with you anymore.”

he chuckled. “too late now.”

3. eyes

his expression softened slightly.

“first,” he said immediately.

your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by how fast he answered. “…really?”

he turned his head slightly, glancing at you, and for a second, his violet eyes held something softer, something quieter.

“yeah,” he murmured. “really.”

your heart did a little flip, but before you could dwell on it, the next body part popped up.

4. lips

caleb exhaled, staring at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

you smirked. “what, struggling?”

“not struggling,” he muttered, pressing second after a long pause.

you raised an eyebrow. “so my lips are second to my eyes?”

he shot you a look. “you know how i feel about your lips. but i look into your eyes every day. that has to count for something.”

your cheeks warmed slightly, but before you could let it get to your head, the next one appeared.

5. collarbone

without hesitation, he pressed ninth.

you gasped.

“ninth?!”

“what?” he said, completely unbothered.

“my collarbone is at the bottom?!”

“there are ten slots,” he reminded you. “it could be worse.”

“oh, you're so sleeping on the—”

before you could finish, the next one appeared.

6. voice

his eyebrows twitched.

he pressed third.

you blinked. “…my voice?”

he shrugged. “it’s nice. i like hearing you talk.”

your heart did another weird little flip. you quickly masked it with a smirk. “so what you’re saying is, my voice is sexier than my hands?”

he groaned. “i regret this already.”

7. stomach

he looked at the screen for a second before pressing sixth.

you narrowed your eyes. “explain.”

he took a sip from his drink. “it's nice to nap on.”

you flushed slightly. “caleb.”

he smirked but didn’t say anything else.

8. back

he hummed in thought before pressing eighth.

you relaxed slightly. “okay, that’s fair.”

he arched a brow. “oh, so you accept this ranking, but not the collarbone?”

“obviously.”

he shook his head. “ridiculous.”

9. neck

he pressed seventh.

you side-eyed him. “you’re thinking of something, aren’t you?”

“not at all.”

“liar.”

he just smirked.

10. freckles

he pressed first.

your breath hitched.

“…wait.” you furrowed your brows. “but you already put my eyes first.”

he exhaled, shaking his head. “no. i take it back. freckles should be first.”

he tried to tap the screen to change it, but the filter locked in the ranking.

caleb stared at the screen. then at you. then back at the screen.

“…you planned this.”

you burst out laughing. “i didn’t! but i knew you’d try to change it!”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “this is exactly why i said this was a trap.”

you grinned. “so, my freckles win?”

caleb sighed, rubbing his temples.

“…yeah,” he muttered. “they win.”

you leaned in, smirking. “told you this would be fun.”

“for you, maybe,” he grumbled, but the way he was watching you—like the freckles scattered across your cheeks had just ruined him completely—told a different story.

[cyber333angel]

LOGAN HOWLETT X SWEETHEART!READER <33

a/n : belloo there is use of vibrator, daddy kink, subby!reader and logan is kind of a bully!! enjoy

you were waiting all day for logan to come home, he had texted you earlier that he had something special he was bringing for you and you just couldn’t wait to see it. he’d always got you little things here and there when he came home from work, y’know, kind of like a little apology present for coming home all bloody and with a body full of almost healed wounds to clean up all the time. you loved them nonetheless, they were always thoughtful, sweet and got you excited every time.

by 9pm you were sitting on the couch with a pretty, sheer sleep dress on, the kind you knew made logan weak in the knees, eating a little sweet treat on your wait for him. moments later you hear keys jingling in the door meaning logan was home at last, you got up quickly almost making yourself dizzy from the speed as you dashed to the door. immediately in the arms of the man you had been waiting for, “logan! im glad your home, missed you..” a vibrating chuckle flows through him as logan places a gentle hand on your back, kneading it softly as he tilts his head down to kiss your cheek. “missed you too sweetheart.” he croaks, kitten shaped hair tickling at your neck.

backing his head up a bit to look at you, logan takes his calloused thumb to roll over the edge of your chin and observe you with his sweet smile. all you could do is gaze at him hazily and lean in for a kiss and taste his lips, breathing into him with your eyes shut as logan sucks at the fat of your lip. you indulge his taste like you hadn’t seen him in ages as the two of your break off the kiss with a faint string of spit connecting you two. finally coming to realize the warm feeling of the older man’s hand grabbing on your ass and the other resting on your head. “taste so sweet.” raspy voice only adding to your excitement. he takes his coat off to hang it in the closet of the apartment, he’s surprisingly clean today, no blood or bandages over his shirt. and logan notices the puzzled look in your eyes, “i didn’t rough anyone up today bub, that’s why im all clean. no need to worry your pretty little head about that today.”

watching him close the closet door you nod, “that’s good, got all pretty for you today..” trailing off and looking for some way to ask him about the present he got for you without really asking. tall figure walking towards you with a grin while reaching out his arms, head perked to the sides as you fall into his touch again. “yeah pretty girl? all this for me, sheesh what’d I do in my past life? hm?” he continues making you giggle with all the compliments as you sway side to side together, kissing each others necks. “always for you logan you know that, wanted to look nice for whatever you said you got me earlier.”

you felt greedy to ask him about the present even though he had been home for less than 10 minutes, but you were just so curious about what it could be. “what I say earlier huh? you know better than that bub, speak up.” you do know better, know better than to be shy about what you really want when it comes to logan, especially when he uses that stern tone. you breath out what you want to say with fidgeting fingers, “I didn’t want to bother you when you got home lo’ but I wanted to know what you got me because im curious and-“ blabbering on and on about something that logan could care less about, you could never bother him no matter what you talked about, he could listen to your for hours. “yeah? it’s okay, got it right here for you..” calming you down with a hand rubbing up and down your arm, reaching the other one into his jean pocket.

he pulls out a white bead that’s about as big as a quarter with a long string attached to it, and what seems like a remote as well. you didn’t really know what it was because this wasn’t the usual kind of presents that logan got you, the usual presents being sweets, pretty clothes or a couple of days where he wouldn’t work just to spend time with you. so you ask, “what’s this logan?” poking and prodding at the object in his hand. with a smile and a kiss to the forehead logan puts the object back in his pocket as he holds your head, “why don’t you go into the bedroom and ill show exactly what it is huh sweetheart?” with a innocent nod you stroll down the hall into your shared room.

next thing you know your on the bed shaking, lingerie pushed up your hips for easy access as your nestled into logans lap with your arms holding his shoulders. both of your foreheads pressed together as you cry for him. “look at you baby, daddy making you feel good huh?” and all you can do is nod your head against his with closed eyes, moans leaving your mouth as a substitute for the “yes!” that you want so badly to scream out. you gasp when you feel the vibration start to get more intense, trying everything to crumble yourself into ball and handle all the pleasure. “see you know better than that bub, know I wanna hear that pretty voice.”

you sniff up the tears you have and nod your head to apologize, “ms-sorry lo’ I won’t do it anymore..” the smirk he flashed you only encourages you to be good and listen to him more, breathing hard when logan rubs his calloused fingers over your sensitive clit and place kisses all over your neck. “atta girl, almost there for me you can do it.” the feeling of the vibrator deep in your cunt hitting all the right spots was so stimulating, with logan running circles around your bud only made it much more unbearable. “o-okay I can’t..! take anymore-” at this point you could barely finish your sentences, and it wasn’t like it hurt or anything, god no, it felt way to good for you to just sit there and take it. you felt on the edge of cumming in your reach but it kept slipping away, logan always bringing you back. “just breath baby you know what to do, m’right here your all good..”

“mm’gonna cum logan..” you really were trying to keep your focus but he wasn’t letting up, you struggled to even have your eyes open to look at him. you felt wobbly on the bed as you held him for balance, legs shaking against logans hand cupped on your sensitive cunt. “you like that huh sweetheart? it’s okay cum for me, know daddys so proud of you..” with him cooing at you so sweetly how could you not come undone just from how cheerful he is for you?

you fall into his neck with a cry, scratching at his sweater covered back, and your pussy spasming all over the white bullet deep inside your sopping walls. “aw atta girl, shh that’s it bub did so good.. you like it when daddy brings home things like this huh?” you didn’t know why logan would be questioning you at a time like this when the vibrator was still inside you, “logan! you have to t-take it out now!” the older man chuckles at you like it’s funny while he pulls out the bullet, “sorry baby, let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

[reiyaus]

fem reader intended | part two of this

fratboy! gojo who meets up with you after getting your contact info the other night, laptop prepared to explain the important of card trading.

fratboy! gojo who, for once, finds it fun to converse with someone other than his small circle of friends. he can't deny the fact he finds you cute when you get confused- not like he'll tell anyone. (more under cut!)

fratboy! gojo whose friends are starting to notice that he isn't partying as much as he did before, but instead, actually attending his classes. to say that they were surprised is an understatement.

fratboy! gojo who walks with you during breaks only to hear you talk, whether it be about pokémon or whatever. with you, he can escape the frat-party life and settle down into a mellow, drunk-free personality. sure he can do that with his friends, but it comes naturally when with you.

fratboy! gojo who sets up chill hangouts when he realizes you aren't as interested in loud environments as him. from walks in the parks, a 1-hour pottery session, or cafe hopping around town- you find yourself enjoying every second of it.

fratboy! gojo who introduces you to his friends, embarrassed when they mention how he'd turn off dnd just to check if you replied. you laugh, comparing him to a clingy dog (which he is) and he feels himself dying even more.

fratboy! gojo who decides that he wants to properly confess his feelings for you during the night of valentines. take you out like normal and bring out the gift he prepared in his trunk. simple, right?

fratboy! gojo who couldn't stop cheesing anytime you looked away, yet acting flustered whenever you noticed. in his mind, he was the greatest at hiding his emotions- but you knew right away that something was up. considering how he asked to match with you, on valentines day.

fratboy! gojo who brings you to a secluded part of the beach where you could see the stars clearly, and has to calm himself down before making a fool out of himself (like he hasn't already).

fratboy! gojo who starts off by bringing up the first day you met, chuckling at how he found quietude in the midst of a party.

fratboy! gojo who takes your hands in his so gently, smiling at how well yours molded together. with one hand holding yours, he reaches into the back of his car and brings out the small basket he made.

fratboy! gojo who filled the basket up with your favorite snacks, a box of high-quality trading cards, a bracelet, and most importantly, a multipage, hand-crafted letter. stuck onto the back, was a candid polaroid he took of you the first time you hung out. aka, the day he realized he loved you.

fratboy! gojo who stumbles across his words, unable to properly convey the script he had in mind. his worry took over him when you didn't respond to anything he said.

fratboy! gojo who pauses after hearing your laugh, and looks up to see the same eyes he fell in love with staring right at him with such adoration. you're smiling. and soon, he finds himself smiling even harder.

fratboy! gojo who has to stop himself from cheering when you formally accept his confession. going as far as to exit out the car to give you the warmest embrace. melting in your arms, he finally has all the reason to kiss you on the cheek.

boyfriend! gojo who slowly retires from the party-life (and possibly playboy), and while still remaining in his frat- he'd very much rather spend his nights with you in his arms.

restful and content, satoru couldn't have asked for a better way to meet you.

a/n: for that one person who wanted it to be platonic... im sorry [sweat]... NEXT TIME! i really want to write "intimacy with platonic!gojo" or any other jjk character. also ignore how i portrayed gojo as a playboy (kind of) in the first part, i lowk forgot abt that when writing pt 2

taglist (only tagged those that asked) @ourfinalisation @cheriiepies @megumisthirdog @leabyjulia @blessingdancing @seternic @gojoscumslut @backinmyphase @cutieminaaa @wandabillywrites @shycreatorreview @bypanana @ilovemyhusbandnanami @l1v1ngzomb1e @raendarkfaerie @hellogojofan @exclusiverinaa @just-lilita @satorushousewife @jaeminaur @mjsjshhd @kaybug88 @minascasket @sapphireillusions @ravenbc @psoycy @juicus

[shomatoriashi]

02/17/25; 08:34pm

sung jinwoo x civilian!fem.reader

notes: i'm so happy to dedicate my 100th oneshot to sung jinwoo (⺣◡⺣)♡

{ i can't lie, i trust you, i love you, i won't waste your time | i turn it off so i can turn you on | i'll make you say it out loud | i'm not even tripping, i won't stress you out | i might even settle down for you... }

there was something terrifying that came with being a simple human. after all, being a mere civilian while living in such a dangerous world was nothing short of a death sentence.

however, you suppose that was the reason why hunters awakened the same time these dangerous portals appeared throughout the world. humans that had the power and strength to combat the terrifying forces that these gates housed.

you, much like the rest of the world, treated these hunters like they were idols meant to be gazed upon with awe. each time a new gate appeared, they would risk their lives protecting the the people of earth while being celebrated if they came out victorious in the end.

yet out of all the national hunters that existed in the world, you were inexplicably drawn to one that went by the name sung jinwoo. the whole world knew of his perfect, cinderella-esque story where he grew from being the world's weakest to one of the strongest within a few month's time.

each time he would be captured within the glossy pages of a magazine or an article detailing his feats, you would cut them, keeping them all in a private scrapbook while admiring him and using his accomplishments to further inspire and motivate you in your own life.

you keep the scrapbook dedicated to jinwoo on your bookshelf, letting out a huff when you catch your reflection from the window's glass pane. not known to be much of a beauty, you purse your lips and run a hand through the tangles in your hair. embarrassingly enough, you often daydreamed about meeting jinwoo someday, making up pretend scenarios in your head as you basked in the thought of having his kind smile directed at you-

feeling the heat settle against your cheek, you banish those embarrassing thoughts immediately, reeling them in while reminding yourself that hunters like cha hae-in existed. you knew of the rumors surrounding jinwoo with hae-in, and truthfully, such a strong and beautiful hunter was a better fit for jinwoo than you could ever be.

a strange pang was felt on your chest, making you angrily swipe away at the tears. desperate to cheer up and feel better, you were determined to get out of your apartment and explore the streets of seoul for a nice bookstore, ready to bury yourself in a good romance novel while living vicariously through the main characters.

dressed comfortably in a hoodie and some jeans, you grab your bag and made sure you had enough funds in your wallet before stepping out of your home. breathing in the fresh air, you begin your trek out of your apartment complex, carefully treading down the concrete stairs while looking up the closest bookstore.

your search takes you to the heart of seoul, with you walking even deeper into the city before arriving at the store's address. letting out a huff upon realizing that it was across the street, you wait by the stoplight. only when the light turned red did you finally cross the street, eyes shining with excitement and joy at being surrounded by all the books.

yet before you could step on to the sidewalk, the sounds of a car's engine roaring to life makes you stop dead in your tracks. your eyes go wide, seeing the headlights of the sports car coming at you at a rapid pace. your heart sinks, knowing that you wouldn't be fast enough to avoid the impact.

"STOP!" a booming voice surrounds you, and you clench your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the incoming impact-

yet it never came.

a pair of powerful arms surrounds you, and you could smell the scent of his cologne while his hand remains outstretched, managing to stop the car with his bare hands, putting a considerable dent in it. with the vehicle forced to stop suddenly, you were dimly aware of how the cars surrounded you, causing an unnecessary amount of traffic-

your throat was dry, and you could feel your whole body trembling at the thought of being so close to death. lifting your gaze, you had words of gratitude for the man who had saved you-

yet upon realizing his true identity, the words died against your throat, for it was none other than sung jinwoo who had prevented your impending demise. your mind was in a daze now, merely staring up at the man with an almost awed expression. you could feel how taut his body had gotten when the owner of said car gets out of his vehicle. "oi asshole, you just put a dent in my baby! do you know how much money i spent on-"

"this shitty car is nothing compared to the life you had almost taken." you watch the way jinwoo's eyes glowed a dangerous, lilac hue, sizing up the man while keeping a protective arm wrapped around your shoulder

the driver recognizes jinwoo immediately and lets out a plethora of stutters. "s-sorry man, i didn't know it was you. i-i'm sorry for the trouble i caused, miss."

"get on your knees and properly apologize to her." you tremble upon feeling the deadly aura that suddenly surrounds you. not immune to the almost authoritarian aura that radiates from jinwoo's form, the careless driver kneeled down before you, pressing his forehead against the street while apologizing to you over and over again.

satisfied with his actions, jinwoo pulls you away from the scene before meeting your gaze. immediately, his expression turns softer- kinder even as he gently frames at your face, ignoring the commotion he had caused earlier while focusing his entire attention on you. "are you alright?"

it takes a herculean effort for you to maintain eye contact with him, feeling your heart pounding out of the confines of your chest as you could only manage to give him a nod. jinwoo lets out a hum, not straying a hand away from your shoulders as you felt the fabric of his shirt brushing against you. "where did you wish to go?"

you point at the bookstore settled behind him, with jinwoo flashing you a wide grin. "ah, is that so? shall we go in together?"

not even waiting for your response, jinwoo manages to take a hold of your hand, opening the door to the bookstore for you to step inside first. "thank you," you manage to tell him in a bit of a raspy whisper, willing your heart to stop racing.

but alas, not even the scent of newly printed pages could erase the anxiety and anticipation you felt with jinwoo standing so close to you. his fingertips kept brushing against your hand when you attempted to scour the aisles for anything interesting to read. eventually, your gaze lands on three books that had flowery covers and designs. with an eager nod, you decide to purchase the trilogy-

only to have jinwoo gently take away the thick tomes from your hands.

"ah, what are you doing, hunter sung?!"

"paying for these since you had a pretty shitty start to your day. and please, just call me jinwoo." he winks back at you, taking the books while heading towards the cashier's counter. you were unable to change his mind, walking behind him all while feeling like you were in the midst of a dream.

the cashier seemed to recognize him, freaking out while jumping up and down behind the counter. she asks if she could take a selfie with him, which jinwoo happily agreed to. for some odd reason, seeing jinwoo taking a picture with the cashier made a strange pang of envy course through your veins, but you try to bury those intrusive thoughts, simply waiting for jinwoo to finish with bated breath.

a few minutes later, jinwoo hands you the paper bag filled with the books he had purchased for you. a shy smile paints your expression as you held the bag close to your chest. "y-you didn't have to do that, but thank you hunter- i mean, j-jinwoo."

he meets your gaze and does the one thing you have always dreamt of. with grey eyes shining with mirth, his full lips were turned up in a smile while giving you a simple nod, "of course, don't mention it miss...?" jinwoo purposely trails off, making you realize that he was asking for your name.

clearing your throat, you turn away from him and tell him the syllables that make up your name. were your eyes playing tricks on you, or did jinwoo's smile seem to widen in response when he repeats your name (as if tasting it on his tongue)? the way your name rolls off his tongue causes you to shiver slightly in response, and you had a ridiculous thought of how you could get used to hearing him say it more often.

with the traffic and the douchebag's car gone, jinwoo escorts you back to your apartment complex. he makes small talk with you, asking you about all of your interests (ranging from your favorite foods to favorite color), filling you with a strange sense of warmth-

and jinwoo's kindness along with his willingness to save and protect you only serves to deepen your feelings for him. even as you were back within the safety of your apartment, you didn't wish to part ways with jinwoo, shyly meeting his gaze while brushing back your hair, "thanks again for... well, for everything."

a rich chuckle escapes from his parted lips, "don't mention it. i didn't mind protecting a pretty girl like you."

your knees clash together in response to his playful words, seeing his grey eyes take on a brighter hue. time seemed to stand still when he looks down at you, hands being oh so gentle when he frames at your face. you watch with wide eyes when he leans down (albeit a bit hesitantly) before murmuring fuck it as he presses a chaste kiss against your lips.

fireworks were felt going off within your head at the unexpected sensation of his lips on yours, and you shyly kissed him back, allowing jinwoo to delve his fingers into your hair, pulling you closer to him. he dives his tongue within your lips for a brief moment before pulling away, "i have to go, but... i promise i'll be thinking of you, sarang."

feeling like you were caught up in a dream, you allow jinwoo to tilt your chin upwards. he begins to grin at the dazed expression on your face, lifting up a hand to press two fingers against his lips in another kiss before pressing them against your lips once more. you stayed glued on the spot, not leaving until jinwoo was out of sight as you gave your arm a hard pinch to make sure that you weren't dreaming.

still in a haze, you enter your apartment and slam the door shut. sliding down the hard surface, you let out a shuddering breath and bask in the different emotions that you were feeling-

giddiness-

love-

adoration-

and a strange sense of belonging.

letting out a breathy laugh, you take out one of your books and open the cover-

only to see a single card with a message and a series of numbers:

i never believed in love at first sight-

until now.

xxx xxx-xxxx

sjw

end notes: jinwoo how do i love theeeee. what i wouldn't give to have you protect me and experience the love at first sight trope with you 😭🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[cheralith]

Hear me out

More on the Blk×hp crossover because it has taken over my life

Okay, Kaiser hears a rumour that you and isagi are dating.

This infuriates kaiser to no end. He doesn't know why it pisses him off. He's being extra mean to you, and you can't seem to figure out why. Don't even get me started on Quidditch. He's got it out for Isagi, he's more aggressive towards poor isagi. What if Isagi gets hurt? You're tending to him and omgg it gets him . Bro is loosing his shit atp.

If he sees you guys together at Hogsmeade on Valentine's day...

I just want to see his ass suffer and when he realizes that it's false information lmfao 🤣 and bro was torturing himself (and poor Ness #nessdeservesbetter😔 #justiceforness) over nothing

Yeahh that's it. Please forgive me if there're any grammatical errors

Take care.

Happy Valentines 💝

characters ; michael kaiser

contains ; hogwarts au, slytherin!kaiser, ravenclaw!reader, gryffindor!isagi, mild violence

happy (late) valentine's day, angel! you've put me in a ditzy because of this ask, so i thank you kindly for feeding into my daydreams i quite like this stupid little white boy <3 (also i said in a previous post that yoichi would be a ravenclaw, but i think he suits gryffindor a lil more ngl esp after ch293 :P)

kaiser would most DEFINITELY be the type of person to let out his anger through his playing, so expect there to be a ton of fouls from him during the gryffindor vs. slytherin match because he just "accidentally" keeps running into isagi, nearly knocking him off his broom more than ounce. it doesn't help that there's been whispers circulating that there's been confirmation of you and isagi officially being a couple after the many speculations from stray eyes that keep a rather close eye on you and him. the golden boy of gryffindor and the ace of ravenclaw... many would agree that you and him would be power couple in the halls of hogwarts, completely disregarding kaiser. it didn't help that evidently, you and isagi got along much better than you and kaiser did, sharing soft smiles and joyous laughter amongst each other rather than hardened glares and quick-witted insults. you were best friends after all, not sworn rivals like you and he were.

slytherin ends up winning the match, kaiser rising victorious by scoring the winning goal to break the tie, but he can't really celebrate his win in full because he sees you later tidying up some wounds and scratches isagi had gotten from the match in the preparation tent. his jaw grits, watching the intimate scene unfurl before him.

isagi hisses through his teeth when you gently place the cotton bud on an open wound on his elbow.

you wince, pulling your hand back. "i'm sorry..."

"no," isagi shakes his head, encouraging you to keep going. "i'm fine, it just stings a bit, 's all..."

you look at him with a doubtful countenance, but dab the alcohol-soaked cotton bud anyway, trying not to notice the way isagi's eyes close in pain. tenderly, you place a band-aid on the skin before you soak another cotton bud and move to the scratch on his cheek, your fingers brushing his reddened cheek (the hue unnoticed by you) when you repeat the process to help disinfect and clean up the small gash.

"he's such a bastard," you mutter softly, "he should've gotten a foul when he nearly knocked you into the hufflepuff stands."

isagi shrugs, "it is what it is."

"is it me or did he seem more pissed than usual?" you inquire, your fingers smoothing over the bandage you've placed over the cut. "like he was taking his anger on you specifically. did you do something to him?"

"hell if i know," isagi sighs, rolling his eyes. "it's hard to read kaiser."

kaiser's eyes narrow as you hold isagi's face in your palm, his nails digging into his palms as he watches you examine him for any spare injuries you didn't tend to. not wanting to infuriate himself with this meddling nonsense, he decides to replace the feeling with pride and glory, stomping out of the tent and replacing the loud throbbing in his ears with the cheers of his fellow slytherins that shout his name in a steady beat as he appears before him.

he bathes in the glory for a bit, letting his ego fill with the approvals of his audience, though from the corner of his eye, he catches a blur of blue and red walk side by side together out of the arena, arm in arm.

on valentine's day, kaiser receives bucketloads of chocolates from his admirers, both known and unknown. he waves them off when ness presents them, going downstairs to fetch some breakfast, only for him to see you hand isagi a medium-sized golden box of chocolates shaped in a diamond that he accepts gratefully, a large smile on his face before he gives you a bag of candies. you go and give your other friends the same chocolates, a small personalized envelope with a card glued onto the front of it, their names all written in a pretty cursive.

he ditches breakfast, deciding he'll eat later and runs up back to his dorm. for some reason this year, unlike the prior ones, he actually shuffles through all the boxes trying to look for a peculiar, diamond shaped one, and he does find it to his satisfaction. he pulls it out so fast from the pile and rips open the card, anticipating a specific someone's name to be signed at the bottom.

... but his face contorts into irritation when an unknown girl's name is read. who the hell is "imogen?"

he tosses the letter over his shoulder, thinking this was stupid. no way did he just spend fifteen minutes attempting to find a box of chocolates from you, knowing the tense relationship between you and him. of course you wouldn't give him any—you weren't even friends! so why the sudden spark of hope...?

kaiser's valentine's day turns even more sour when he tries to distract himself and goes to hogsmeade to fix himself up some firewhiskey, only to see you and isagi in the window of honeydukes, examining candy together. this didn't seem to be a group trip either, considering he didn't recognize anyone else that you were friends with in the store, so you and him must've went together.

right—he nearly forgot. you were a couple now. of course you'd be spending the holiday of love together. that's just common sense.

"you think she'll like this?" isagi asks you, holding up a basket assortment of many candies. "i don't know what she really likes, so i was thinking i'd play it safe and just get her everything."

you grin and throw him a thumbs up. "good move, i think she'd quite like that. maybe throw in that teddy bear we saw earlier."

he nods with a blush on his face that you can only giggle at. you've never seen your best friend so giddy before, especially since he'll be having his first date with the hufflepuff girl in his astronomy class he's been admiring, a pride within you blooming when he told you excitedly this morning that he'd be going to madame puddifoot's soon with her.

"i'm gonna go pay and then go get ready back at my dorm," says isagi as he nudges his head towards the cash register, the gifts he holds in his hands starting to tumble out of his grasp a little. "i'll see you later at dinner to tell you how everything went!"

"good luck! don't be nervous!" you call out to him when he shuffles through the crowd before returning your attention to examine the luxury chocolates they had just imported from belgium.

a shadow looms over you suddenly, and you feel the temperature drop a bit from the air around you. there's an impending sense of doom that pits itself in your stomach, so it doesn't take you too long to discover the identity of the tattooed hand that snatches the box of chocolates you were examining away.

your jaw ticks.

"i was looking at that," you mutter with irritation, slowly turning back around to face a familiar blonde. "... kaiser."

"hm," kaiser merely hums back nonchalantly, eyes flickering over the assortment of flavors indicated on the back. "never thought you'd have such a sophisticated sweet tooth," he mutters as he reads over the unique flavor profiles of each chocolate.

"god forbid someone wants to go out of their comfort zone," you roll your eyes obnoxiously before picking up another box to assess, not wanting to bother to get back the previous one you were holding. of course somehow kaiser makes your life ten times more difficult whenever he was around, even off campus grounds.

the assortments look so tasty, you think, reading over the details of the feuilletine truffle. maybe you should treat yourself this valentine's day, relishing in fancy chocolates and curling up with a good book sounds like your ideal day of rest. you think you deserve an upgrade from the casual chocolates you were used to purchasing for a quick fix...

... until you look at the price of the box of chocolates.

your eyes nearly bulge out of their head when you read the price.

"forty five galleons?!" you whisper-shout under your breath, only loud enough for the man behind you to hear. kaiser's eyes flicker towards your astonished visage. "merlin, was this made out of unicorn hair or something?!"

you sigh and place the box down on the shelf again, choosing to return back to the safety of the generic honeydukes chocolate bar instead of wasting your money on something that'd disappear all too quickly.

"you're not gonna get it?" kaiser inquires as you begin to look for a way out of the chocolates area.

"as if i have that kind of money," you snort haughtily.

"then ask your boyfriend to buy it. it's valentine's day after all," kaiser snarks back, the words coming out of his lips faster than he's able to fully process them. he curses himself in his mind when he realizes what he's said, revealing the fact that your status as a couple wasn't as hidden as some may say.

"huh?" you turn back with a confused look. "boyfriend? what?"

it's kaiser's turn to look perplexed. "your boyfriend?" he repeats and pokes a stray strand of hair from the top of his head to mimic an ahoge. "yoichi isagi? golden boy of gryffindor? sound familiar?"

your brows furrow and you wonder if he's making fun of you.

"yoichi and i aren't dating," you counter back. "who told you that?"

the way kaiser feels relieved feels unnatural, like a giant weight had just been unburdened from his shoulders. he shouldn't even be feeling this heaviness in the first place, but he did and now it's gone just from the mere words that counter his initial belief.

... he still feels relieved, oddly enough.

"i—" kaiser starts, but draws blanks when he attempts to cover up his nasty acceptance of a mere rumor, feeling idiotic he had believed such a thing so fast and so intently. "it's just floating about. since y'know, you guys are so close... and stuff," he mutters hotly.

your lip curls in annoyance. "never thought you'd be one to accept rumors so loosely," you mimic his tone from earlier, crossing your arms. a vein pops in kaiser's forehead at your arrogance, and he opens his mouth to give you a snide response back, but you begin to turn on your heel.

"don't believe such stupid shit so fast," you say, waving a hand to indicate your leave. "it won't do you good in the long-run."

kaiser is eventually left alone in the chocolate aisle, a little flabbergasted at what just happened. he watches you as you exit the store by yourself, choosing not to buy anything while he's in the vicinity. a warmth blooms within kaiser's chest however, when he repeats your denial of a relationship in his head.

"yoichi and i aren't dating."

"they're not dating," kaiser mumbles to himself as he grips the box of expensive chocolates in his hands with a small smile. "yeah... they're not dating."

that evening, you later find a delicately wrapped box placed on your desk with your name on it. you take off the green ribbon and rip open the white wrapping paper and widen your eyes to what's revealed from inside.

it was the box of expensive belgian chocolates you were looking at just hours beforehand. you're astonished, thinking who on earth had spend this much money on you when you try and find the sender of the package, only to be met with a short, mysterious inscription on the back of the box's lid.

"happy valentine's day. eat well and enjoy." —🌹

[kitbunnyroo]

thinking about...abandoned android boyfriend....

lemme apologize from now...this is a looong one. it could be structured better, but it's literally just me updating this over the course of some hours/days (?). hope you enjoy this ridiculously long tidbit thooo! <3 (help y'all hit that 30 fast....tyyy!)

also omg thank you all for all the love on the centaur man post??? we love big strong bby fr, 100% will bring him back if y'all wanna see more of him 🤍🤍 (also, not proof read nothing i write is, so forgive any errors plsss)

like picture it, you just find him in a scrap yard cause your pet ran into it or something right...and you can tell that he's functioning, so you're confused as to why he got put for scrap? considering these things are crazy expensive, and the people who threw him out were ever so kind enough to leave all his original packaging, you took him back home.

it did take a while to get his station set up in a little corner, but it wasn't too bad, especially as you looked into the illuminated green eyes of the android who stood a good head or two taller than yourself once you figured out how to get him up and running again.

after you explained in even greater detail how he came to be in your possession, you could almost hear the mechanics in his brain recalibrating all the missed system updates as he now addressed you as master/mistress. not ideal, but who are you to complain once he fixes the drip in your sink that almost cost you hundreds of dollars. maybe having an android in your home wouldn't be so bad.

time flies and you come to find out he was scrapped cause beyond functionality, he had somehow developed a conscious of sorts. which when you think about it, anybody else would be freaked out by their machine suddenly smiling and showing human emotions. was it freaky? hell yeah. was it bad?....not so much.

there was lots of reassurance to be done...he thought that once he started to slip and his consciousness shone through again you'd dump him to be scrap metal too...well, after they remove the scarily realistic skin-like material that outlines his hardware. "So...you're not going to power me off and box me up like the last family did..?" he'd find himself asking after long conversations about how you don't really care he got more human-like as the days went on. living on your own it isn't that bad to feel like you have extremely helpful company rather than a machine in your empty halls. and when he looks at you oh so sweetly? how can you not tell him this is his home too.

android housemate, doing his best to make sure you're always happy. always stress free. always well taken care of. always healthy. always satisfied. so when he's cleaning your room and finds a vibrator, he's everything and appalled. why would you have this when he's right here? was he not good enough? did you not want him to help you? was it his fault? but he simply places it on it's charger and closes your door. when you get home that day you can tell something's off, it's the same air as the early stages when he thought you'd throw him out. so you just make sure to be extra sweet to your caring housemate.

android housemate, now doing research on human pleasure, watching porn, reading all sorts of articles and Quora forums. this seems easy enough to do...he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't ask him to help. darling android housemate realizing that his fans start to go double time when the pixels start to look like you instead of whoever is actually in the videos...even more so when he realizes that's what an imagination is like and that his is picturing himself with you in these videos...he wonders if that can happen....

yandere (???) android housemate who's suddenly gotten all clingy once you're home. as usual, dinner is hot and plated, desert already lined up, but as you shower you can hear him making the time to pick out your outfit from your drawers instead of double checking all is well in the rest of the house...odd, but you don't pay the particularly revealing choice of clothing much mind. dinner goes as usual, till he offers you a much more...inviting? smile after you tell him about your grievances of the day. his eyes never leaving you, even as you eat and he updates minor software...you ask if he can close the windows cause there's a much too warm of a breeze coming in, and he's suddenly glad he has the capabilities to hide the blush that threatened to rise to his fabricated cheeks since it was just his fans. he was getting a bit too much enjoyment from the sight of you wearing an outfit he had picked, enjoying his meals that he makes you everyday, you chose him from the scrap yard that he's convinced held many other androids...

yandere (??) android housemate that's gotten cold to you since you brought home another human and claim that they're your partner. he'd thought that he was being clear with his consecutive months of flirting since his research began, but apparently not clear enough. now he's forced to watch as you bring this human over, it is nice to hear you brag about how lovely he treats you though, especially when he sees them almost shrink where they sit, obviously he can already tell they won't be able to treat you better than your housemate. how could they? they're just a weak human, and he's an android that's learnt every last one of your tastes.

yandere (?) android housemate that's gotten over his chilly attitude in favour of comforting you after your breakup and every proceeding one from then on. on one hand he doesn't enjoy seeing you hurt, but on the other hand he knows the only one meant for you is him, so he'll continue to let these humans know that they won't ever hold a candle to him when it comes to your affections. you don't have to be in pain, you just have to realize he's the one for you. and you can go back to your blissful life.

yandere...android housemate who's worried after you stumble through the door after a work/college party, clearly intoxicated out of your mind. he effortlessly picks you up and takes you to your room, laying next to you when you refused to let him go cause his generated warmth was nice compared to the cold of the air conditioned room. he listens to you babble on about who knows what, and then about your latest break up, and then he's shocked when you blurt out that he'd make such a good boyfriend if he wasn't an android...and somehow, somewhere in his wiring, that hurt? but it also lit something cause you went on to praise all he does for you, especially highlighting his advances and he comes to the conclusion that you only started looking for a human partner because you had assumed that although he had a conscious, he couldn't feel romance. and boy was he now determined to prove you wrong.

yandere. android housemate, now doing everything possible after that night to display romantic affection. sensual massages after particularly aggravating days where his fingers work wonders to the tension coursing through your body, at first you don't think much of it, but when you feel the spikes of breeze specifically from him after every one of your moans, you try to keep your voice down. he downloads them to his software though, and is quickly researching the different modifications available for his kind.

yandere android housemate that gets tired of being referred to by his model name and demands you give him a proper one. and you do. and he loves it. thankfully, he's still linked to the cards of his previous family, so he can make purchases using their money instead of yours without suspicion. he gets his "personal" modification made under their card, leaves right after you do for school/work, and he's back before you're home, already getting things sorted for when you're back. now he just has to hide the tent that forms whenever you call him by the name you gave him....

newly named yandere android...you're not sure anymore. after walking in on him far too many times since you're used to him usually being smooth, but now he has an...enticing, length of dick just hanging between his legs now, it's kind of awkward. even more so when you find yourself outside his newly appointed bedroom to ask him to do something, and end up overhearing his whiney voice floating through the air. now you can't help but wonder how it feels if the rest of his skin feels like regular human skin...maybe an android boyfriend won't be so bad after all...

your android housemate, putting in extra work to keep you happy once he realizes you're not bringing home any more humans. even the vibrator and any other toys you might've had are stored away rather than readily available near your bed. maybe if he does a good enough job, you'll finally ask him for help. you swear you see a subtle throb in his pants sometimes when the thought runs through his not so little android brain.

your android boyfriend with fans so loud when you finally ask him to touch you, that you could've sworn you misread his intentions. but as soon as you try to back out of the situation he's pulled you against his chest with one of hands deeply entangled in you hair while the other hugs you close to him, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was desperate for that moment...that and the fact that once you're finally in bed he takes initiative to slip under your blanket next to you instead of going to his own room, his hands finding their way snugly around your waist to cuddle you but surely making their way lower down, quicker when he realizes that not only are not trying to stop him, but you're basically leaning into his touch. the frenzy he goes into when you whisper his name that you gave him has your legs quivering on his shoulders, toes pointed every which way as those same illuminated eyes stay glued to your body, confusingly realistic tongue moving more enthusiastically with every sound you make.

your android boyfriend. who now takes any chance he can get to ask if he can fuck you. if his tongue game was this good...what else was he capable of? the thought barely has time to run across your mind because as soon as you agree he's gonna have you folded in half and stuffed full of the most realistic dildo you've ever felt. it didn't feel fabricated in the slightest. from the throb of the veins in your walls to the way it drags so fucking good inside of you, and he makes sure to study your body as he goes. this particular spot made your eyes roll? he's going right back there. you like having you sensitive bits teased while his balls are slapping your skin so hard you can hear them through the wet mess? he's abusing them. by the time he's done you've came enough times to lose count, and best believe he makes sure to endlessly thank and praise you through every bit of it. comments of how good you make him feel, the dimming of his eyes enough to let you know he really does feel it, thanking you for letting him be this close to you, begging you not to go when you try to squirm away from the overstimulation (he calms down a bit so you can catch yourself whenever it's really too much), not to mention the starved kisses he gives you whenever the position allows (all the time). he'll have your back against the wall and hold you up so the only place you can go is further onto his cock while his tongue finally gets to explore your mouth. you'd never believe an android could be so adorably vocal. the moans, the whimpers, the whines. (he can't bring himself to degrade you though, sorry </3)

your android boyfriend making sure he puts the utmost effort into after care. if you let him hit, he's sure to run you a shower or bath of your preference, and trust that when you're out he's already got you a freshly made meal with an accompanying drink. he always makes sure to ask if he was too rough with you, gently massaging your muscles while you relax after your meal. if there's anything, anything at all you desire, he already does it for you, but now he'll go the extra miles if it means you'll be even happier.

your android husband, proposed after years of taking you out on the most wonderful dates, planned more of the wedding than you did since he only wanted you to worry about looking your best, he does let you help if you want though <3. android husband who can't cry, but you almost swear you see him sobbing as you walk (or he walks if you'd prefer) down the aisle, the tears slowing down but never to a complete stop till it's finally time for the "I do"s. your android husband who takes you on a splendid honeymoon of nothing but relaxation, good sights and food, and even better sex. he knows he can't get you pregnant, but that doesn't mean he can't try extra hard once the topic of children roll around. if you do want children though, he's not against adoption (or a sperm donor once their background checks out)

(for his family he invited his previous family, who were surprisingly chill with him using their cards to fund your vacations and now wedding...talk about rich rich)

your android husband <333.

this totaled to 2,264 words (woah??), and i can NOT lie?? i like it. hope you enjoyed this terribly long read and tysm again for all the support like hello!!🤍✨

[spnfic85]

OKAY OKAY OKAY Soooo this has been floating around in my head rent-free for the past few days and today I COULDN'T HELP IT!!!

I thought Oblivious!Reader x Dean Winchester would be presh, but then I wondered what would happen if Dean finally just gave up and kissed the oblivious little creature until she understood. Ah hek. I hope this is okay, but OH GAWD did you inspire me!

Forevermore

Oblivious!Plus-size Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: Minors- DNI, Smut, angst (?)

Word Count: 2804

You looked up at Dean’s emerald greens as they flickered between your confused gaze. Your hands trembled in his as you processed the words he just growled to you in the waning dusk of the small kitchen of your apartment.

“Damnit Y/N- I said I’m in love with you!”

“What do you-” Your words are cut off with Dean’s firm kiss as he frames your jaw in his hands and tentatively drags his tongue feather light across your bottom lip. You gasped, realizing he meant every word and felt your hands tighten on his open flannel as your mouth opened to his invitation.

Your thoughts tumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with fervor. The flowers on the kitchen counter went ignored as Dean groaned into your mouth and backed you against the edge of the sink as if you’d disappear any moment from his hands.

“Waited so fucking long for this…” He murmured and pressed his forehead to yours as you both gasped for breath in the quiet. Your heart raced in your chest as you thought back to all the times he’s swung by with a coffee or some little trinket from his last hunt. All the times you’ve flushed as he’s mentioned a top he liked on you. You thought he just approved of the band or liked the colors.

He’s just being nice. You’d murmur to yourself, there was no way it was anything else between the pair of you.

He watched out for you like a big brother, right?

“Dean…” You murmured, “I don’t- I don’t understand.” You admitted looking up at him again, brows knit in confusion.

You saw the street light turn on from the kitchen window and you bit your lip as he looked at you gently, “Baby girl, what else do I need to do to prove it to you?” He looked at you in dismay, “I-I’ve tried so many things to show you what you mean to me…” Your heart broke at the loss in his eyes, the pain it inadvertently had caused him.

Your eyes rimmed in stinging tears and you chewed on your bottom lip as you continued to run more and more interactions through your mind. You wanted to scream, you were so mad at yourself for being oblivious to him.

You shook your head, “I can’t believe…” You murmured and he chuckled. The rumble traveled through your chest and you realized you were pressed flush to his torso. You felt your face heat as you turned beet red and you laughed bashfully. Dean’s thumb ran along your cheek as he peeked down to look you in the eye again with a small smile.

“Hey now, don’t get shy on me, baby girl.” Your eyes fluttered up to his and you smiled slightly, “That’s better. I’ve waited too long for you to look at me like that.” He rumbled and pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss before pulling away slightly. “I really am in love with you.” He murmurs softly, “Think I’ve been a lot longer than I realized, too.” It was his turn to flush crimson as you laughed softly at his admission.

“I didn’t think you felt that way for me… I just assumed you were being nice or watching out for me because… Because that’s the kind of thing you did, Dean.” You admitted.

Dean deserved your honesty, he deserved that in the least. He had always made sure to drive through your area, stopping in when he was in between hunts. You thought he was just keen on a hot shower and a meal that didn’t come from a drive thru. If anything, the random gifts were small payments or tokens of gratitude, something Dean has done since you two were young.

Dean took your hand and walked you to the couch and sat you down. He looked terrified, and you had only seen that look twice before. Both times he thought he was losing Sammy, struggling to hold on to what he held most dear.

“I’d want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days showing you how much I love you.” He reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You chewed your lip, searching for the crack in his resolve, begging the gods to let this be true. This man opening his soul to you couldn’t be a hallucination, there could be no way… Right…?

Finally, something snapped in you and all at once, you decided to leap head first into whatever Dean had to offer. All at once, something told you this was something you shouldn’t let slip past. You wrapped your arms around his neck again and kissed him desperately while climbing in his lap. You slipped your fingers along the back of his neck, palms framing his face as you rocked your hips into his lap and nipped for more. Dean groaned, hands braced on your plush hips as he pulled you down on his obvious erection.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” He panted, nipping and sucking along your throat and shoulder.

You shook your head and whined softly, pulling at the hair on his nape. He cursed softly and stood with your bottom in his hands, making you squeal, while he marched to your bedroom down the hall.

You gasped as he laid you on your bed, reverently looking over your form as your chest fluttered to catch your breath. You reached up to him, your thighs dropping open in invitation and he felt as if he levitated to you in the bed. His hand shakes softly as he runs it down your side, his palm framing your hip as his other arm braced beside your head to keep his weight off of you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured softly as you rolled your hips up against his as they rocked into you of their own free will. Your face flushed and you drug your nails gently down his covered shoulders. Dean closed his eyes as he sighed and rocked into you a bit harder. You gasped sharply, lining yourself against him to tease at your sensitive clit.

Your once baggy tee was riding up your torso, as your nipples pebbled against the soft cotton. Dean looked down almost drunkenly as his hand on your hip teased at the hem of your shirt before splaying over your soft belly, inching towards the hidden curve of your breast.

Your hand moved over top of your shirt, as you dragged his hand higher, pulling the shirt with it, until his palm cupped the soft flesh and carefully squeezed. You moaned as his thumb brushed the taut nipple and made your back arch against him. He murmured affirmations as he kissed along your throat, nibbling at your shoulder, before ghosting over your shirt and under it before his mouth wrapped around the tight bud of the breast in his hand as he groaned. You panted, a warm breath fanning over the top of Dean’s head as you looked down as lightning traveled down to the apex of your thighs and settled low in your pelvis.

Dean’s warm mouth kissed across the valley of your chest and settled on your neglected nipple, while his fingers massaged, pinched, and gently twisted at the other. The sound that escaped your throat sounded raw from the attention and he responded in a similar grunt. Your fingers moved over his shoulder, pushing the open flannel down his biceps.

He paused, realizing what you wanted, and sat up on his knees to shrug off the flannel, before reaching over his head to grab the collar of his black tee, and pull it over his head in one fluid move. You watched him wide-eyed as he looked down on you like a starved man.

“May I?” He asked, reaching for the bunched tee above your breasts. You nodded and sat up, slipping your arms free quickly before he advanced on you again. Dean pressed his torso to yours as he kissed you deeply, hands roving every curve, dip, and valley on your body. Your hands shook as they held his shoulders, nails raking down his biceps.

Your hands continued to move down sculpted muscles, snagging on the belt buckle on his jeans. Dean's hands moved along your hips and bottom, making your hands stumble with the buckle as he pulled your hips against his again.

Before you could unbutton his jeans, he slid from your grasp, his hands grabbing the waistband of your leggings. You whined as you felt your face flush at his stare, and he cooed at you how beautiful you were as he tugged your leggings and panties from your frame. When you glanced up at him from under your lashes, your breath was snatched away at the look in Dean’s eyes as he dragged his gaze over your form. A look of yearning, of need, as if he looked upon one of the wonders of the world. Your heart crashed against your ribs as he moved his hands up your thighs, pulling you open and closer to him as he stood on his knees before you in worship.

His moves were deliberate, keeping his eyes locked to yours as his shoulders nestled between your thighs, begging them to open wider. As his soft, full lips moved over your hot core. And you whimpered as his tongue struck out, wide and thick as he dragged a stripe up your folds. Your hips lifted before Dean draped an arm over your pelvis to keep you still as he groaned into your sticky wetness. You moaned loudly as he quickly found the tight bundle of nerves and sucked gently. It took little time for your thighs to quake as your climax exploded through you. Dean lapped at you, groaning at the gift your body rewarded him with.

You were so sensitive, you felt your voice shake as you begged him. “Please Dean, please…” You were unsure what you needed, but you knew he was the apex of your ache. He murmured softly as he kissed your inner thigh and gently drew a finger along your slit, covering the digit in your slick. He blew gently on your clit as he sunk his middle finger into you to the knuckle. Your nails bit into his shoulder as you rocked down on his hand with an almost feral moan.

You were vaguely aware of the praises that tumbled out of your mouth as he moved slowly, coaxing your walls to relax and accept his thick finger. His mouth found your clit as he pumped a few times, before his index finger nudged for entrance. The stretch was a delightful burn as you mewled his name breathlessly.

Your body was buzzing from your climax, and it seemed the buzzing grew loudly as you hurtled towards another as he pumped two fingers into your body, curling them inward just right as his tongue ran circles on your clit. Your thighs pressed down on either side of Dean’s head, his shadow of stubble scraping the sensitive flesh, as you felt your walls clamp down on his digits and your body thrashed as wave after wave crashed over your body in euphoria. Your sight flared bright white along the edges as you screamed his name in your dark apartment.

You heard a bang on the wall across your room and you flushed in embarrassment as Dean chuckled and lapped gently at your folds. “Don’t be embarrassed baby girl. Let them know who makes you feel like this…” He smirked wickedly at you, pulling his fingers from your core. You whimpered at the empty feeling it left you but he shushed you softly as he pressed the two fingers to your swollen lips. You looked up at him in silent understanding and let your jaw drop, sucking the two slick fingers in your mouth. “Fu-uck Baby Girl…” He murmured as you closed your eyes for a moment to imagine yourself cleaning another part of him in this manner. You pulled from his fingers with a pop and let your mouth hang open slightly as he drew his middle finger over your bottom lip. “Gonna find out what that pretty mouth feels like later… Don’t think I can wait much longer right now though…” His voice was a deep umber, molten iron through your veins. A shiver spiked down your spine and radiated through your belly.

“Please Dean…” You murmur, “Please…” Your hands drag down his torso, catching on the button to his jeans again. He stared at you entranced, before nodding dumbly. His hands met yours as he helped unbutton the jeans with ease. You bit your lip as you finally freed his member and gasped softly. You had heard him joke on more than one occasion with his brother or friends that he was well endowed. That he had earned his cocky confidence with women when he had a roll in the hay. But no jokes had prepared you for what he was now displaying to you.

He was thick, long, and uncut. It twitched heavily under your watchful gaze and you looked up at him breathless once your eyes raced the length of veins. You pulled the jeans and boxers down his thick thighs before your lips crashed into his again as Dean laid you back down on the bed. His hips nestled between your thighs made you both sigh at the rightness you felt.

This was where Dean was meant to be. Your souls sang as he kissed you deeply. You dropped one of your hands between your bodies and gently dragged your fingers over the firm shaft. You rocked your hips slightly before lining him to your entrance. Dean nibbled at your throat as he thrust towards you carefully and felt your tight heat envelop him. You panted softly as your body accepted him, with each thrust bringing you closer together.

Dean moved slowly, reverently, as he kissed your lips as if you were his very breath itself. You clung to him as he rolled his hips into yours and ground against your sensitive bud. Your nails bit Dean’s back as he carefully picked up the pace. Your thighs moved high on his waist, as your moans filled the air along with the squelch of your body taking everything Dean offered you.

“So perfect Baby Girl,” He groaned, “Everything I prayed for, you’re it Baby.”

You whimpered, words long lost as he picked up the pace and started to pound into you as your walls clenched around his girth. Dean cursed as he felt your climax threaten to envelop you both as his mouth latched on a rigid nipple's bud as his hands gripped your thighs open, pressing your knees to each side of your chest.

You cried out as your back arched, your legs shook, and your walls clamped down on Dean, making it impossible to pull away. He groaned and ground into you, his pelvis smashing down on your bud as he came hard. You realized you were chanting his name as you came down, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you both panted hard as you caught your breath. Dean didn’t move from you as he peppered you with butterfly soft kisses as he murmured praises. Your fingers ran through his now damp hair as he settled a bit above you, leaning on one arm as he looked down at you in amazement.

“I should have done this forever ago…” He murmured with a wry grin. You laughed softly and nodded before kissing the big idiot above you and pulling him down into the bed.

Neither of you missed the grumbled complaint from the apartment over and you flushed crimson. “Mister Jenkins probably hates me now.” You murmured bashfully.

Dean scoffed and shook his head, “It’s impossible to hate you,” He murmured and kissed your nose, “But he definitely doesn’t like me now.” He chuckled with a smug grin.

You shushed him and smiled as he pulled you close to him, arms wrapping around you as you both got comfortable. He took a deep breath in before kissing the crown of your head, “Please never wonder if I love you Baby Girl… You are my world, forever and always.” He murmured softly in the dark.

You smiled into his chest and kissed over his heart, “My heart is yours forevermore.” You murmured as you felt sleep pull you away from the conversation. Your senses were filled with the man you adored, a fanciful thought actually fulfilled as you lay in his arms. And to imagine- this was real, this man really loved you… You wouldn’t waste another moment with him, never again.

Masterlist

my favorite fucking trope is chubby!reader living your life completely oblivious to the fact that the literal man of your dreams is in love with you and you're none the wiser.

like - you just traipse through life like "well he wouldn't like me back so it's wtv" all nonchalant and shit while the poor man is literally falling over himself trying to get it through your head that HEYYY that's not right??? i'm literally in love with you??? i worship the ground you walk on???? i'll do whatever you want????

and bless your heart, you see every single time he tries to hit on you as an act of kindness:

"awww, he got me (insert fav food here) cus i said i was hungry, what a nice guy!"

"he complimented my outfit! he must've liked the color of my shirt!"

"wow, he seems to be zoning out a lot, i hope he's okay!" (he's been staring at your lips for the past five minutes)

and he just... doesn't know what to do to make you see what he sees.

like you're so gorgeous and funny and why wouldn't he like you??

he's convinced that if he were to stand in front of you and tell you he loves you, you'd be like, "I love you too! you're such a good friend!"

(which has happened before and a little part of him died inside)

it literally takes him everything in his power to make you realize his feelings, and you just stand there for a moment, seemingly connecting the dots over the past few months, and all you can come up with is a small, dumb, "oh."

lord give him the strength.

[surielstea]

A Lesson in Lust

Inspired by a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader fakes an orgasm Azriel has no choice but to teach her not to lie to him, but not with words.

Warnings: smut | 18+ | pwp | dom!Az / Brat!Reader | Brat tamer/taming | cunnilingus | slight impact | slight breathplay | creampie | p in v | overstim | controlled orgasm | clit sucking | slut shaming | slight dollification | there’s so many ts freaky

Word count: 6.5k

A.Note: Please read the warnings!!! This is nasty, literally all smut, mdni.

I should have known better.

Should have known that Azriel, with all his centuries of honed observation and razor-sharp instincts—his ability to read people down to the slightest flicker of emotion—would notice.

I thought I had hidden it well, that he had been too lost in his own pleasure to realize I hadn't unraveled beneath him the way I usually did. That the tremor in my voice, the sharp edge of my cries, hadn't quite matched the ones before. I told myself he wouldn't catch the fleeting moment where my body had tensed but never truly shattered, where my release had been nothing more than an illusion painted for his sake.

I don't even know why I did it. Azriel had always been so attuned to me, so devoted to my pleasure. Maybe it was the exhaustion weighing down my limbs, the ache of an endlessly long day pressing against my bones. Maybe it was the way he had looked at me tonight—so desperate to bring me over the edge with him. I hadn't wanted to bruise his pride.

But he knows.

He doesn't say anything. Not as he cleans me up with steady, reverent hands, the warm cloth dragging over my skin with the same care he always gives me. Not as he helps me into my nightgown, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. But I feel it. Feel it in the way his hazel eyes darken, their golden flecks burning as they study me in that quiet, unreadable way.

Still, he says nothing. Not when he turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a cocoon of darkness. Not when I turn to him, pressing a soft kiss against his lips in an attempt to quell the unspoken weight between us.

He kisses me back, slow and deep, but his shadows betray him. They curl tighter around his frame, restless like they are whispering secrets meant only for him—secrets I cannot decipher.

He doesn't say anything for a long while. Holds onto the knowledge, lets it simmer beneath his quiet exterior, tucked away where I almost believe it will stay.

For a moment, I think I've gotten away with it.

But when morning comes, the silence finally fractures.

"Why did you fake it?"

The question lands like a stone in my chest, sending my heart into a frantic rhythm. His voice is steady—too steady. Like he's been awake all night just waiting to ask.

I blink at him tiredly, feigning confusion. "What?"

Azriel doesn't waver. "You didn't come. Why'd you fake it?"

Blunt. Direct. The weight of his stare alone is enough to pin me in place. He's clearly been sitting with this, turning it over in his mind, dissecting it in that way only he can. And now, he wants answers.

"I—I didn't—"

He tilts his head slowly, and my breath catches. Not a word passes his lips, but the movement alone is enough of a warning.

"Try again, love." His shadows swirl around us despite the morning light filtering through the curtains.

I stay silent.

Azriel exhales, his grip on my waist flexing. "I've been up all night trying to figure out why you'd feel the need to fake something like that. Especially with me." His voice is soft, but it cuts through me all the same. "And I can't. So tell me—why?"

"I didn't want you to feel bad," I murmur, barely above a whisper. "You treat me so well, all the time. I didn't want you getting hung up on this one night."

But here we were—doing exactly that.

His jaw tightens, tension carving sharp lines into his face. The early morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden, but there is nothing soft about the way he's looking at me. Still, his hands find mine, fingers intertwining. The roughness of his scars against my skin is familiar. Comforting.

"Do you think so little of me?" The words are quiet, but no less devastating.

"No." I snap my gaze to his, panic flickering in my chest. "No, never, Az."

His thumb skims over my knuckles before he brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there. "Then why lie?" he asks, the warmth of his breath lingering. "Do you not trust me to take care of you? Do you not want me to?"

His voice dips lower, and my stomach clenches. He truly had to be thinking about this all night to draw up these conclusions.

"I do," I rush to reassure him. "Of course I do. I was just—I was tired, that's all." I lean closer, brushing my lips against his in a gentle kiss.

He doesn't pull away. Doesn't let go of my waist. But when he tilts his head, the look in his eyes shifts into something sharper. Something hungry.

"You tired now?"

His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time. Slow, deliberate, teasing.

I exhale softly. "No."

Azriel mirrors my smile, but there's something different about his. Something sharper. More feral.

"Good."

And before I can react, he's got me beneath him, arms pinned above my head, a wicked gleam in his hazel eyes.

A gasp catches in my throat as Azriel moves, fast and fluid, flipping me beneath him before I can so much as blink. My wrists are pinned above my head, his scarred fingers wrapped firmly around them, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.

His wings flare slightly, blocking out the golden slant of morning light, leaving nothing but the two of us in the shadows. His shadows.

They curl around his frame like living threads of darkness, writhing in time with his slow, deliberate breaths. The way he looks at me now—hazel eyes molten, jaw tight, lips slightly parted—sends a shiver down my spine.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you?" His voice is low, rough, but not angry. No, the way he says it—the way he watches me squirm beneath him—is something else entirely.

I swallow hard. "Azriel, I—"

"You were exhausted." He hums as if considering my excuse. "Didn't want to hurt my feelings." A soft scoff leaves him, his nose brushing the shell of my ear. "What a sweet little lie."

I shudder, my fingers flexing uselessly beneath his grip. "It wasn't—I just—"

"Didn't think I could handle the truth?" He trails a hand down my side, fingers whispering over the thin fabric of my nightgown, tracing every dip, every curve. "Or did you think I wouldn't take care of you properly?"

I shake my head quickly, but he catches my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him.

"You know I don't like being lied to, love," he murmurs, voice silken and dark. "Especially not about this, you forgot though."

His thumb drags over my bottom lip, and my breath hitches. He watches me, eyes burning, gaze sharp enough to cut.

"Let's fix that, yeah?"

His grip on my wrists tightens just as his free hand moves lower, skimming over my stomach, my thighs—slow, teasing, deliberate.

"You're going to be honest with me from now on." A soft kiss, barely there, pressed to my throat. "You're going to let me take care of you the way I always do." Another kiss, lower this time, lingering over my pulse.

"And you, love," he whispers, teeth grazing against my skin, "are going to learn exactly what happens when you try to keep something like that from me."

His shadows coil around my ankles, holding me in place, and then—

I lose the ability to think.

"Az," I breathe, my body arching instinctively beneath him, trying to chase the warmth of his touch. But he holds me still, his fingers barely skimming where I need him most, his shadows curling tighter around my wrists and ankles like they, too, are in on his cruel game.

Azriel hums, amused. "You sound a little desperate, love."

I glare at him, but it's hard to make it convincing when I'm squirming beneath him, my pulse racing, my breath coming too fast. "You're being cruel."

His lips curl at the accusation. "Am I?" His fingers dance along the edge of my nightgown, slipping just beneath it before retreating just as quickly, his touch featherlight. "Seems to me I'm just teaching a valuable lesson."

"You're insufferable."

Azriel chuckles, the sound low and sinful, sending a ripple of heat through me. "You weren't saying that last night."

Heat floods my face. "Maybe because last night, you weren't tormenting me."

His brows lift, feigning innocence. "And yet you didn't come. Seems to me you like the tormenting." He dips his head, kissing a slow, searing path along my collarbone. "But if you'd prefer, I could stop."

A smirk plays at his lips as he starts to pull away as if testing to see just how desperate I really am.

I scowl, tightening my legs around his waist, locking him in place. "Don't you dare."

His laughter is warm against my skin, and the next thing I know, his fingers are on my thighs, tracing slow, torturous circles. "That's more like it," he murmurs approvingly. "Now, tell me, love—" his lips ghost over the shell of my ear, his voice nothing but a delicious rasp, "—you going to fake it again?"

My brows furrow as I peer up at him through my lashes.

"No," Azriel grins, wicked and knowing. "I'm not going to stop until you're too wrecked to even think about faking it again."

A sharp inhale. A rush of heat.

His hands tighten, and his voice drops to a whisper, his words dripping with sinful promise.

His fingers move with calculated precision, unbuttoning my top one slow pop at a time. I help him shed it, my own hands sliding beneath his shirt, mapping the warm, golden skin stretched over taut muscle. The ink of his tattoos shifts under my touch as he pulls the fabric over his head and tosses it aside.

I lean in, capturing his lips, but he meets me halfway, claiming my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath. His tongue sweeps past my lips, exploring greedily, and I moan softly into him.

Then, suddenly, my wrists are pinned to the mattress, bound by the whisper-soft strength of his shadows. A gasp catches in my throat, my body instinctively tugging, but it's futile. Azriel merely smirks, his fingers skating down my sides, toying with the band of my panties, the heat of his touch sending sparks across my skin.

I lift my hips in a silent plea, urging him on, but he only chuckles, slow and deep. "Patience, love," he chastises, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric.

"Please," I whisper, desperate.

Azriel hums in approval but moves achingly slow, peeling the lace from my body like he has all the time in the world. His knuckles brush against my thighs as he drags them down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

"I want you to feel everything," he murmurs, lips ghosting over my collarbone, where a faint mark from last night still lingers. A reminder. A promise.

"Az," I whine, shifting against the restraints, needing more, needing him.

He tsks, dark amusement glittering in his hazel eyes. "I know, I know," he coos, dragging his mouth along my skin, teasing me with every slow, lingering kiss. "But you can be patient can't you?"

I nod, breathless, eyes locked onto his as he trails lower.

"Good," he praises, but his voice dips into something more commanding. "And you understand I can't reward your bratty behavior?"

"Yes," I whisper.

His brows arch. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

Azriel's smirk is wicked, his satisfaction rolling off him in waves. "There's my girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach before lowering himself further between my thighs. "Now stay still for me, yeah?"

I nod, back arching as I ready myself.

His breath is warm against my skin, teasing, taunting, and when his lips ghost over where I need him most, a helpless whimper spills from my lips. I tip my head back into the pillows, unable to watch, unable to handle the way he's taking his time, savoring the way I fall apart beneath him before he's even truly touched me.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "So needy. Just couldn't get off, could you?"

I shake my head pitifully. "No," I manage, my voice barely above a breath.

He clicks his tongue, pressing a featherlight kiss to my inner thigh. "It's okay, love," he murmurs, and then his grip tightens on my hips, holding me still as he finally, finally drags his tongue through my slick folds.

A choked moan tumbles from my lips, my back arching further off the bed, but his shadows keep me grounded. He hums in approval against me, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coiling low in my stomach.

"Azriel," I moan, writhing, tugging uselessly at the darkness binding my wrists. "Please."

He smirks against me but doesn't answer, just hikes one of my legs over his shoulder, deepening his assault. His tongue flicks over my clit with precision, his mouth sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just hard enough to have me keening.

I can't move. Can't grind against him, can't chase the pleasure building inside me—because he's making sure that my release comes entirely from him.

That realization has me spiraling even faster.

"Az—Azriel, please," I gasp, my thighs trembling as the coil tightens, winding impossibly tight.

His grip on my hips bruises, his scarred fingers pressing into my skin as his tongue circles my clit again and again.

"Go ahead, love," he rasps against me, his voice thick with satisfaction. The vibrations of his words against my swollen, aching cunt are all it takes to send me over the edge.

I shatter, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as my orgasm crashes through me, my body locking up before melting into the mattress. My vision whites out, pleasure consuming me in wave after relentless wave.

Azriel doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He guides me through it, slow and deliberate, savoring every aftershock.

"There it is," he murmurs, his lips pressing a final, lingering kiss to my sensitive folds before glancing up at me, utterly wrecked beneath him. "My girl looks so pretty when she comes."

The flat of his tongue gathers my arousal on his tongue, cleaning me. A soft, broken whimper is the only response I can manage.

But Azriel isn't done. Not yet. Not until I've learned my lesson.

I panted softly, still trembling as he kissed his way back up my body, his mouth hot and unrelenting against my flushed skin. Every inch of me is still humming from the waves of pleasure he's wrung out of me.

His lips trail over my breasts, pressing a kiss to one before he takes the stiff peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling in slow, torturous circles. The same tongue that had just shattered me now teases and soothes in equal measure, and I bow into his touch, a soft gasp spilling from my lips.

"Azriel," I rasp, tugging against my dark restraints.

His shadows hold firm, but he lifts his gaze to me through his lashes, those hazel eyes molten with desire. My breath catches, and I swear I feel the heat of his stare everywhere. His tongue flicks against my nipple, sharp and purposeful, and my thighs instinctively fall back open for him.

He smirks, releasing my breast with a wet pop before kissing his way up, up, until he finds my lips. He swallows my soft whimper as his tongue slides past my lips, letting me taste myself on him. The intimacy of it makes my head spin, and I kiss him back greedily, nipping at his lower lip when he pulls away.

His breath is warm against my mouth as he murmurs, "Inside?"

"Yes," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I need you inside me."

His lips quirk up in a lazy, knowing smile. "Yeah? You need it?"

"Please," I whimper, my desperation laid bare.

Azriel hums, kissing me again, slow and deep, before pulling away. The sound of his belt unbuckling, the rustle of fabric as he shoves his pants down—it sends a thrilling pulse of anticipation through me.

I was so attuned to him, his sounds, the feel of him. The heat of him between my thighs, the way he strokes himself once, twice, teasing me with the promise of what's to come.

Then he's there, pressing the thick head of his cock against my slick entrance, and I nearly sob with need.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dark with satisfaction as he teases me, sliding just the tip inside before pulling back. "So wet, so ready—"

"Az," I whine, my hips tilting, seeking him.

His hand presses down on my stomach, holding me still. "You take what I give you, love. Nothing more."

I moan at his words, at the sheer dominance in his tone, and then he pushes in, stretching me inch by inch until he's seated fully inside me. He takes his time, driving me wild in the process, each slow thrust pulling a desperate sound from my lips. My walls flutter around him, trying to draw him deeper, but he holds himself back, teasing, torturing.

By the time he finally sinks to the hilt, I'm panting, trembling beneath him, my body molded perfectly to his.

A low groan rumbles through his chest, his head dropping to the crook of my neck as he rolls his hips once, dragging a sharp gasp from me. "Fuck," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "So tight. Always so fucking perfect for me."

I whimper, my body adjusting to the delicious burn of being so completely filled, stretched to the limit around him.

Azriel pulls back slowly, almost entirely, before thrusting forward again, his pace agonizingly slow, like he's savoring the way I squeeze around him.

"You feel that?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice dark, wicked. "How deep I am?"

"Yes," I pant, my wrists straining against my restraints, desperate to touch him, to claw at his back, to do anything other than lie there and take it.

But that's exactly what he wants.

He rolls his hips again, dragging himself against that spot inside me that has my toes curling, my back arching off the bed.

"You lied to me, love," he reminds me, his tone thick with amusement, with something darker, more possessive. "So now I get to decide how long you last."

A whimper slips from my lips, and he chuckles, low and satisfied.

"You'll take what I give you," he murmurs, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me still even as I writhe beneath him. "And you'll thank me for it."

Then he pulls back and thrusts into me hard, setting a punishing rhythm that steals the breath from my lungs.

He grips my thighs, spreading me wider, fucking into me so deep I swear I can feel him everywhere, in my bones, in my blood.

"So good, you're always so good for me," he groans, his voice rough, barely held together. His restraint is a fragile thing, and gods, knowing I could break him with a single plea makes me throb around him.

"So cruel of me," he muses, his thrusts slowing, dragging out my torture, "to come inside this pretty pussy last night without making sure my girl got her release, hm?"

All I can do is whimper, my head tipping back, body trembling as he fucks me slow, deep, each deliberate roll of his hips making me feel every inch of him.

The rhythmic sound of the bed slamming into the wall and his low, guttural grunts fill the room, the air thick with heat, with the wet, obscene sounds of him driving into me. I bite into my lower lip to stop myself from sounding so damned desperate, but we both know—Azriel knows—just how wrecked I am.

The proof of it is between my thighs, soaking his cock, dripping down onto the sheets.

His hand slides down my stomach, his fingertips ghosting over my clit, not quite touching, just enough to make me sob in frustration.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice full of wicked delight. "Fucking dripping for me." His thumb swipes through my slick folds, pressing teasingly just above where I need him most. "So messy, love. So needy."

I whimper, arching into his touch, desperate for relief.

Azriel tuts, shaking his head. "Oh no, sweetheart. You don't get to come yet."

I whine, a broken, desperate sound, and he just chuckles, pulling his hand away entirely.

"You wanted to lie to me," he reminds me, his lips brushing over my jaw as his cock twitches inside me. "Now you get to feel what it's like to be left aching, desperate, needing."

I sob, my head thrashing against the pillow, but he just keeps fucking me, slow and deep, making me take every inch of him without giving me a single ounce of relief.

I fucking love it.

Azriel smirks against my throat, dragging his lips down the column of my neck, his cock still buried deep inside me, thrusting slow, deep, controlled. My body is writhing beneath him, my nails digging uselessly into my palms as his shadows keep me bound.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, nipping at the spot just below my jaw, his tongue soothing over the sting. "You sound so fucking desperate."

I whimper in response, my thighs trembling, my cunt clenching down around him in a futile attempt to pull him deeper, to coax him into fucking me the way I need.

He chuckles, low and dark, dragging his cock out so slow before sinking back in, every inch stretching me open again, every movement meant to drive me insane.

"You said you'd be good for me," he muses, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Said you understood why I had to punish you."

I nod frantically, my breath hitching as he rolls his hips again, the angle perfectly devastating.

"Then why," he murmurs, his lips brushing over my ear, "are you whining like a slut, love?"

A full-body shudder rolls through me at his words, and he laughs—a wicked, pleased sound—because he knows exactly what that does to me.

"Oh?" His grin is evident in his tone. "You like that?"

"Azriel," I rasp, my voice ruined, my body burning.

"Sir," he corrects smoothly, his hand wrapping around my throat, applying just the lightest pressure.

"Sir," I breathe, and fuck—I shouldn't be this turned on, shouldn't be this gone just from the way he's talking to me.

He hums in approval, dragging his nose along my cheek before whispering, "That's my girl."

And then he stops moving.

I let out a cry, bucking my hips, desperate for anything, but his grip on my throat tightens just slightly as a warning.

"Ah, ah," he tuts, shaking his head. "You'll take what I give you, remember?"

"Yes, sir," I whimper, my head falling back.

His thumb brushes over my lower lip. "Such a good girl." He tilts his head, pretending to consider something. "Maybe I should make you beg for it properly."

"I—" My voice catches as he barely rolls his hips, just enough for me to feel him inside me without giving me any real relief.

"I think I will," he murmurs, his thumb pressing against my lips. "Go on, love. Beg."

"Please, sir," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He tuts, shaking his head. "Oh, sweetheart, you're not even trying. You know you can do better than that."

He pulls out entirely, making me sob in frustration, in unbearable, aching need.

"Again," he commands, his tone all silk and steel.

"Please," I gasp, my back arching, my legs trembling. "Please, sir, I need you so bad, I—fuck—I can't—"

He groans, his cock twitching against my entrance, and finally—finally—he slams back inside me, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"That's it," he praises, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm that has my nails digging into my palms, my mouth falling open on a soundless moan. "That's my fucking girl."

I'm ruined beneath him, my body alight with pleasure, with torment, with the unbearable need to come. And he knows.

His hand drops between us, his fingers finding my clit, and I wail, my body bowing off the bed as he circles the swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure.

"You wanna come, love?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

"Yes, sir," I sob. "Please, please, please—"

His pace falters, just for a second.

"Fuck," he rasps, his cock twitching inside me. "You sound so pretty when you beg for me."

"Then please," I cry, the pleasure coiling so tight I can't take it anymore.

He presses his forehead against mine, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

"Come for me, love," he breathes. "Now."

And fuck—I shatter.

My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my body seizing, my back arching, my walls fluttering wildly around him as I scream his name.

But Azriel—he doesn't stop.

Not even for a second.

"That's it," he growls, his fingers still working my clit, dragging my pleasure out, making my body shake, making me wail. "Give me another one, sweetheart. I know you can."

My body jerks, as my breath stutters and my thighs tremble violently from the sheer intensity of my release, he just keeps going.

"Too much," I gasp, my body writhing beneath him, every nerve ending alight with unbearable pleasure. "Sir—"

His hand tightens around my waist, his hips still slamming into me, his cock dragging against that spot inside me that makes my vision white out.

I sob, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure builds, impossibly fast, impossibly sharp.

"What's wrong, love?" he murmurs, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear. "You were so eager for it just a moment ago."

His fingers press against my clit, rubbing tight, devastating circles, making my body twitch beneath him.

"I—fuck, I can't—"

Azriel just grins, leaning down to kiss my temple, so mockingly sweet.

"You can," he purrs, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "You were just begging for it, I know you can."

I whimper, my head tossing to the side, my brain too fogged to even process anything beyond the ruthless way he's using me.

"Look at you," he muses, his tone full of wicked amusement. "Fucked so dumb you can't even think straight."

I moan at his words, my legs trembling around his waist.

He laughs, low and mean, his fingers still ruthlessly working my clit, even as my entire body shakes from the overstimulation.

"What was that, love?" His teeth graze my jaw, sending another shudder down my spine. "You like being used like this?"

I sob, my head tossing back, unable to form words, unable to do anything with my hands and ankles bound. I loved it, he knew I loved it.

"Fuck," he groans, his thrusts growing erratic, his grip on my wrists bruising. "You're so fucking perfect like this—just my little plaything to fuck as I please."

I wail, my body burning, pleasure suffocating me as another climax threatens to rip through me. The pleasure was wringing me out dry.

His fingers press against my clit, merciless, relentless.

"You gonna give me another one, sweetheart?" His voice is taunting, his lips brushing over my ear. "Gonna come on my cock again, even though it's too much?" He mocks.

I nod frantically, tears slipping down my temples, my body convulsing from the unbearable pleasure.

He smirks, so fucking smug.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs. "My perfect little slut."

I gripe, clenching around him tightly.

Azriel moans, his cock twitching inside me, his thrusts growing sloppier, more frantic.

"One more," he growls, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing just right. "Give me one more, love. Be good for me."

I don't even have the breath to scream. And then he snaps his hips forward, his fingers moving faster, and I fucking lose it, another orgasm ripping through me, dragging me under, drowning me in white-hot bliss.

I just shatter, my body breaking apart, my vision going dark at the edges as pleasure obliterates me.

And Azriel—he fucking laughs, still thrusting, still pushing me, ruining me.

"That's my girl," he purrs. "Always so good for me."

Azriel pulls out slowly, almost tenderly, and I slump against the mattress, my body wrecked, trembling with the aftershocks of everything he's done to me. My wrists ache from pulling against the shadows, my legs barely responding to me as I try to catch my breath.

I think—finally. He's done.

But then his hands are on me again, flipping me onto my stomach in one fluid, effortless motion, his strength overpowering.

"Didn't think I was done, did you sweet girl?" he murmurs, his voice like a dark promise as he hauls me up onto my knees.

I barely have a second to process before his hand presses against my back, forcing my chest down, stuffing my face into the pillows.

I gasp, my arms pinned uselessly beneath me, my body still twitching from overstimulation as I feel him behind me—feel the hard press of his cock sliding between my soaked folds, teasing, not yet giving me what I know he's about to.

"Azriel," I mumble, my voice muffled against the pillows, wrecked and pleading.

He tuts at me, his grip tight as he spreads my knees wider, forcing me open for him.

"You think you can take another round?" His voice is full of mockery, his hand running slowly over my hip before gripping me there, holding me in place. "You've been so good for me, taking everything I've given you—you wouldn't let me down now would you?"

"No sir," I moan softly, my body already shuddering with anticipation as he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against my entrance.

I barely have time to pant out a desperate, "Sir," before he thrusts inside me, deep, the new angle making me see fucking stars.

I scream, my fingers clenching uselessly into the sheets as he fills me completely, pressing so deep it makes my entire body tremble.

"Fuck, that's better," he groans, his hands sliding up to grip my waist as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, his pace instantly ruthless.

My mouth drops open in a silent moan, my mind blanking as he uses my body, fucking me like he owns me, like he's never going to stop.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he murmurs, his voice dark, smug. "To be bent over like this, my cock so deep inside you, you can't even think?"

I sob against the pillows, my body already climbing toward another release, my overstimulated nerves sparking with unbearable pleasure.

Azriel just laughs, his hands gripping my hips as he forces my legs to stay open, refusing to let me close them, refusing to let me hide from how utterly ruined I am.

"You're so fucking perfect like this," he breathes, leaning down so his chest presses against my back, his teeth grazing my ear. "Taking me so well, love. My perfect slut."

I keen, my walls clamping down around him, my entire body melting under his words, his touch, his fucking torment.

"That's it," he purrs, his fingers sliding down between my legs, finding my clit, rubbing it in cruel little circles. "Come for me again, sweetheart. I want to feel you break on my cock."

He keeps his pace brutal even as I flutter around him, his grip on my hips unrelenting as he fucks me into the mattress, each thrust shoving me deeper into the pillows, like he's trying to mold me to the shape of his cock.

And all I can do is take it. Take the way he ruins me, the way he stretches me open again and again, making me feel so fucking full I can't even think.

"You hear yourself, sweetheart?" he taunts, his voice dark, drenched in amusement as he listens to the wrecked little sobs spilling from my lips. "Crying for me while you drip all over my cock like a good whore."

I sob again, pleasure and overstimulation making my body shake, making my mind fog over with nothing but him.

"F-fuck, Az," I whimper, my fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets.

His hand cracks against my ass, making me jolt forward on a choked-out cry.

"Sir," he corrects again, his tone firm, his free hand sliding up my back, tracing the arch his thrusts are forcing me into.

My walls clench around him so tight it drags a deep, filthy groan from his chest.

"You like that?" he purrs, smug as sin, rolling his hips in slow, torturous circles, making sure I feel every inch of him. "Like knowing I could fill this pretty little cunt up—watch you swell with my seed?"

I whimper, my toes curling at the thought, at the absolute filth pouring from his lips.

And then his hand is sliding down, pressing to my lower stomach—right where he's buried deep inside of me.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his fingers flexing as he feels where he's stretching me open, where he'd fill me up if he let himself go.

"Fuck," he breathes, his grip tightening on my hip as he thrusts again, shoving deeper just to feel the bulge of himself inside me. "So fucking deep, love. You feel that?"

I nod weakly, my eyes rolling back, my body trembling as another broken sob leaves my lips.

He laughs, wicked and cruel.

"Already so fucked out, aren't you?" he taunts, dragging his palm over my stomach, pressing harder just to make me feel how deep he is. "Poor little thing—just a dumb, desperate mess on my cock."

I keen, my legs shaking, my body completely wrecked and at his mercy.

He twitches, my body arching as he presses into a spot that makes my vision go white, my mouth falling open in a pitiful pant. "Sir, feels, so good," I whimpered.

"Yeah? Greedy girl, going to come again?" He taunted, lips brushing against my shoulder, his sweat-slicked chest kissing my bowed back.

"Please—can I?" His pace didn't slow, even if I knew he was getting closer, he grew more and more sloppy but he did not slow.

"Wait f'me, I'm almost there," He whispered into my skin.

I clenched around him, unable to help myself, wanting to help him get there. My arms shook, near to giving out as I panted into the bed sheets, gripping the pristine white cloth in my fist to stop myself from moving up on the bed.

He twitched inside of me again, growing eager. "Inside," I breathe softly. "Fill me," I beg.

"Yeah? Want me to claim this cunt?" He whispered, lips grazing over the shell of my ear.

"Please, sir," I beg, bottom lip wobbling.

"Okay love, come—come f'me," He chokes slightly, consumed by his need for release. I doubted I could hold onto that edge for much longer, and the sound that left me during that final orgasm was louder than the rest, primal in a way. He twitched once more, and as I clenched tightly around him from the cresting of my orgasm, he came too, painting my walls white with his thick release.

He thrust slowly, gently, easing me down from the white-hot high that still had my body trembling. My whimper was soft, and breathless, as he finally pulled from me, his release spilling from me, warm and slick against my thighs. If not for his steady hands cradling me, guiding me down onto the mattress, I might've collapsed completely.

"Not too much?" His voice was hushed, rough around the edges, like he was just as wrecked as I was, despite that Illyrian stamina keeping him upright. A calloused hand brushed through my likely tangled hair, tucking it behind my ear so he could see me clearly.

I tried to form words, but all I could manage was a breathless, "No." A slow inhale, then, "Felt s'good." My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and even that much effort felt like too much.

He hummed softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple. "You did so good," he murmured against my skin before slipping his arms beneath me. I barely had time to react before I was in his embrace again, lifted with ease. "Let's get you cleaned up."

I nodded weakly, my limbs boneless, and let him carry me into the bathroom. The cool marble of the counter met the flushed heat of my skin, soothing, grounding. I watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, admiring him in this quiet aftermath. The way his jaw clenched in focus as he wrung out a damp cloth. The tenderness in his touch as he wiped me down, extra careful between my thighs. The contrast of his rough, battle-worn hands moving with such exquisite care.

He combed through my hair next, untangling the knots his fingers had left earlier, his motions steady, unhurried. Every stroke, every pass of his hands over my body, was reverent. Devotional.

He kissed me softly then, tasting of cedar and salt, of something uniquely him. His hands skimmed my sides, his touch a whisper of heat against my skin.

"Six times." His voice was smug, but quiet, like he was half-talking to himself.

I blinked up at him, dazed. "Hm?"

"You came six times." His lips quirked into a knowing smirk, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my thigh.

Heat flooded my already flushed cheeks, my stomach twisting with something like mortification and pride all at once. If he knew so easily, then surely he knew immediately last night when it wasn't real.

"You were counting?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Had to make up for last night."

I huffed a small, breathy laugh. "You did."

His smirk softened as he kissed me again. Slow. Deep. A promise.

"How do you know?" I murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough for our noses to brush. "When I come?"

His gaze darkened, and something in his expression made my stomach flip. "You make this pretty face," he said, voice dropping, thumb tracing my bottom lip. "You couldn't fake it if you tried."

I swallowed hard, heat pooling low once more.

"And you always moan my name," he continued, pressing a slow kiss to my throat. "Every single time." His lips dragged over my pulse, felt the way it jumped. "Without fail, it's always my name on your lips."

I could feel my blush creeping lower, my skin burning everywhere he touched.

"You didn't last night," he murmured, voice a lazy drawl like he was enjoying my embarrassment. "Wasn't hard to figure out."

I groaned, dropping my forehead against his shoulder, but I couldn't help but laugh at myself. He chuckled too, the sound a warm rumble against my skin.

I pressed a kiss to his temple, letting my hands roam down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles beneath my touch.

"So," I mused, still breathless, still utterly spent. "Breakfast?"

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[trickphotography2]

good to come home to (but not to stay)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader

Word count: 11.4k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: "It doesn't mean anything." It was just a fling. A friends with benefits situation. Sleeping with Jake was never meant to be more than that. But when you start to catch feelings and have a new assignment, the 10 month hook up had to end. Deploying on the USS Theodore Roosevelt would give you enough time to get him out of your system. Or so you thought.

Written for @mjisbby who requested a cryptic pregnancy fic.

Warning: This fic does include angst, mutual pining/believed unrequited love, a cryptic pregnancy, and the panic of finding that out.

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

---------------------------------------

“Nat!”

The weight lifted from your shoulders as your knee hit the ground, the clink of metal on metal nearly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. “Alright, you’re done,” Natasha hissed, crouching to meet your gaze. Breathing through the cramps, you nodded. When she’d suggested working out, you certainly hadn’t anticipated your uterus's betrayal, nearly making you collapse during a squat.

“Agreed,” you grunted, resisting the urge to press a hand to your lower stomach. Feeling eyes on you, you took her outstretched hand and let the pilot pull you to your feet. Pain made you sway, and her other arm quickly steadied you. 

“Shit - you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Forcing a smile, you shrugged as the pain started to fade. “My uterus is just hating me today.” The other woman winced in sympathy. Glancing over her shoulder, you caught Jake watching you, paused in the middle of a set of bicep curls. He raised his eyebrow, and you quickly looked away. 

It'd been awkward since ending your friends-with-benefits agreement. And, while you sometimes regretted that night when you told him it was over - replaying that flash of confusion on his face that quickly disappeared under a mask of indifference - you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. When you started your arrangement, you agreed it was casual and had no expectations. The moment you realized you were falling for the arrogant aviator, you’d ended it in a much-needed moment of self-preservation. It was better to cut things off before you got hurt, trying to pretend that you didn’t wish that Jake was open to a relationship. 

You could have had a clean break if it hadn’t been for the deployment. San Diego was a big enough city, and you weren’t even stationed on the same base - while he was on North Island, you were stationed at NAS San Diego. You’d only crossed paths because Nat had decided to join the women’s softball team and invited you to the Hard Deck after practice. While you had some exposure to pilots after participating in briefings, being surrounded by them in a bar was overwhelming - at one point, you leaned over and whispered to Nat, “So when are they going to just whip their dicks out and measure? Jesus Christ, the egos.” 

And Jake was the worst. You’d watched him prowl the bar, flirting with women who giggled and batted their eyes whenever he smirked at them. Wearing a pair of your PT shorts as a raspberry bloomed on your thigh from sliding into home plate, you weren’t a match for the women in sundresses and perfect makeup. After finishing your beer, you bid your teammate and her crew goodbye and headed home for a hot shower. 

It wasn’t until the third time you joined Nat at the bar that you talked to the guy everyone called Hangman. Still wearing your khakis, you’d come straight from work, ready to forget the week. While you enjoyed working with newly enlisted sailors, training them to do daily briefings for higher-ups was always a nightmare. You’d spent most of the day reviewing a report and triple-checking the work of a kid straight out of basic. Realistically, he should have had more time to observe briefings, but your boss liked to throw the new guys into the mix to get their feet wet. Remembering the anxiety you’d had the first time you’d briefed an admiral after commissioning, you always offered your help to anyone who wanted an extra set of eyes and ears.

So when a song by a country artist you liked came on the jukebox, you hummed along, beer bottle resting against your lower lip as you watched Nat’s pool game with her friends and tried to push thoughts of telemetry out of your head. “You like country?” A drawl came from beside you. Startled, your gaze met a pair of sea-green eyes. 

“It’s not my favorite, but I like some of it,” you shrugged. Jake nodded, gaze flitting to your name tag. 

“You’re Phoenix’s friend, right?” After a few weeks, you recognized your friend’s callsign and nodded. “You the college softball player she’s on the MWR league with?”

“Yeah.”

“You play for a team I’d know?”

“Do you watch a lot of college softball?” you smirked. Amusement flickered in his gaze, and you shrugged. “It wasn’t a D-1 school, so probably not.”

“What position do you play?”

“Second base and backup pitcher.” 

He nodded, leaning against the wall beside you. “You’re in intel, right?”

“Yup.” 

His gaze darted to your beer, and he tilted his head toward the bar. “Want another one?”

At practice the next day, Nat warned you about Jake’s reputation. You shrugged it off. Having a beer with a guy in a crowded bar didn’t mean anything, even if some of that time was spent at the jukebox picking out the soundtrack for the night. 

When the season's first game came around, you were somewhat surprised by the cheering section in the stands. You spotted Nat chatting with her coworkers through the fence as you warmed up with a teammate. Only reflex kept you from taking the neon softball to the face when Jake turned. Even wearing sunglasses, you could feel his gaze trained on you. 

The game went smoothly, and you and Nat worked like a well-oiled machine. In the fourth inning, she fielded a ball with a wicked bounce hit straight at her at shortstop, flicking it to you to get the out on second before you turned and fired it at first. The double play ended the inning, and you slapped gloves together before returning to the dugout, listening to the hoots and hollers of your team’s cheering section.

“The pitch just looks weird,” Rooster huffed. “The wind-up is off.”

“It’s just different,” you argued. “You guys pitch overhand while we do it underhand.” 

“And you’re closer to the plate, so it’s easier to hit,” Fanboy added. Raising an eyebrow, you turned toward the man, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your hip.

“Ever seen the video of Jennie Finch striking out MLB players?” When they shook their heads, you pulled out your phone and made them watch a Cardinals player get struck out in four pitches. 

Which was why you found yourself on the mound the following weekend. You were rusty, but after a few pitches, you felt yourself slipping back into the competitor mindset, switching your grip to throw fastballs, curveballs, and drops. It was satisfying when Rooster ducked out of the way when you threw an inside rise, the ball smacking into Nat’s glove with a satisfying ‘thud.’ Smirking, you caught the toss back and returned to the mound, trying not to laugh as the other aviators shit-talked. 

Eventually, they got a couple of foul balls and grounders. It took you much less time to adjust to the baseball pitch when it was Rooster’s turn to take the mound. “You forget,” you said, settling into your stance after hitting another line drive to third base, “most batting cages are set up for baseball.”  

You could never quite figure out how you and Jake ended up alone on the field. Everyone else had left to shower and head to the bar, but you couldn’t forget the way he pinned you to the dugout fence. Your fingers ran down his chest, shirt long since abandoned, and traced his abs as he smirked against your mouth, gloves dropped at your feet. When your arms rose to wrap around his neck, knocking off his backward baseball cap, he lifted you off your feet and guided your legs around his hips, grinding his hard cock against you.

“Is that your cup, or are you happy to see me?” you teased, and he barked a laugh while squeezing your ass, rocking you against him. 

“Smart ass,” he huffed. But when his hand slipped under your shirt, fingers sneaking under the cup of your sports bra, you shoved him away, feet slamming back onto the ground. Looking over his shoulder, you watched the military police vehicle drive past the field. 

Alone again, you retrieved both gloves and his hat. After shoving his glove into his chest, you smirked and put his hat on your head before winking. “See you around, Jake.”

His fingers caught yours as you brushed past him. “You coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” 

“That’s the plan.” 

He grinned, stealing back his hat. “See you there.”

Lukewarm water washed over you as you braced against the shower wall and bit your lip against groaning.

The days before your period arrived fucking sucked.

Thankfully, you didn’t have them often. Irregular since you started, you never were able to track when Aunt Flo would arrive. Even birth control did little to help you regulate, other than having a little spotting throughout the month. But in the days leading up to her appearance, you suffered.

Turning off the water, you took the momentary reprieve from the cramps that had plagued you for a day and a half to slip on a comfy pair of sweats and a baggy shirt before crawling into your rack. Facing the steel grey wall, you curled into a ball and cradled your stomach, willing away the pain and wishing the outlet worked so you could plug in your heating pad. You already felt gross from being bloated and putting on a little bit of weight over the deployment. Stress wreaked havoc with your body, and you had acne breakouts again and noticed that your uniform was just a smidge tighter than usual. 

The next cramp knocked the breath from your lungs, pain radiating down your legs and into your back as you clutched the blanket. Tensing, you curled into a tighter ball, black dots dancing in the corners of your vision as you held your breath to avoid the pain. 

The mattress shifted, and you cracked one eye open. Jake stood by your bed, tugging on his boxer briefs and searching for his jeans. Light peeked beneath the blackout curtains as you watched him dress before tiptoeing from the room. When the door closed, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. 

Nat had warned you.

You’d played it cool at the Hard Deck, keeping a friendly distance between yourself and Jake for most of the night. While he shot pool, you chatted with the other pilots and nursed your drink. But you’d felt sea-green eyes on you throughout the night and fingers trailing your waist when you stood by the bar together. After saying goodnight to everyone, you’d sat behind the steering wheel, scrolling for music, and nearly jumped out of your skin when there was a tapping on the car window. Jake’s grin was cocky as he motioned for you to roll it down. “You wanna get a nightcap?” he asked, leaning a forearm against the door and crowding into your space. 

He’d followed you to your apartment and shared a beer while making out on the couch. Your shirt hit the floor as he rocked you against his hard cock. But when you’d reached for his straining zipper, he’d batted your hands away and maneuvered you to sit on the couch. Kneeling in front of you, he undid your jeans button and encouraged you to lift your hips so he could pull them off with your panties. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, guiding your bare legs over his shoulder as you shrugged off your bra. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” Tugging you closer, he devoured you. Your head fell back against the cushions as you moaned, feeling his chuckle against your core. He gave no quarter, chasing your pleasure with a ruthless determination. When fingers joined his tongue, you dug your fingers in his hair and tugged, his groan an echo of your own. And after you came, he kissed you hard, forcing you to taste yourself. 

“Bedroom. Now,” he murmured against your mouth. You twined your fingers together, walking backward toward your room, where he continued to demonstrate precisely why his reputation was well-earned.

You’d hidden your face in the pillow as he took care of the condom afterward. And while you’d expected him to dress and leave while you took your turn cleaning up, Jake had surprised you by sliding back under the covers. He gathered you in his arms when you joined him, fingers running through your hair and skating down your back as you were lulled to sleep by the steady thumping of his heart. 

Which was why his sneaking out in the morning hurt. But you’d known his reputation, and there hadn’t been any promises made past last night. After a few minutes, you forced yourself out of bed and locked the front door behind him before retreating to the bathroom and washing all traces of Hangman off you. Laundry was the first order of business when you emerged, skin raw from scrubbing.

It had been relatively easy to avoid him after that. You had no reason to be on North Island; your only connection was Nat. When he showed up in the bleachers at games, you ignored him. When he lingered like he wanted to talk to you, you volunteered to help pack the equipment and walked to your car with your teammates. Drinks at the Hard Deck were turned down, and you invited Nat to hang out with some of the officers you worked with. 

But you couldn't say no when she asked you to meet her at the bar for her birthday. Pulling into the Hard Deck felt like returning to the scene of the crime, and you took a few deep breaths before getting out of the car, adjusting your jeans and tank top. Promising to get in and out after an hour, you forced yourself into the sea of flight suits and khakis. Per usual, the Daggers had taken up their post by the pool tables, and you grabbed a beer before heading their way. 

The clacking of pool balls met your ears as you neared, and you felt him before seeing him. Ignoring the weight of his gaze, you brushed past Payback to hug Nat and wish her a happy birthday. Thankfully, a handful of women from the team also came, making it easier to avoid a certain aviator. Seeming to catch your intention, he also kept his distance.

Seeing Hangman flirt with a woman by the dartboard just solidified your decision to forget that night happened. You were just another hookup - no need to read more into it than necessary. When you caught him watching you dance, you forced yourself not to look away, an unwelcome flush rising in your cheeks. You could have sworn you saw the slightest flinch when the woman he was talking to touched his arm, drawing his attention away. 

You told yourself the jolt of irritation you felt had nothing to do with seeing another woman’s hands on him. The smooth way he smiled at her, or the bob of his Adam’s apple when he drank. The way he leaned against the jukebox while picking out a song, beer bottle dangling from his strong fingers that had made you see stars. 

A country song played as you closed your tab after saying your goodnights. Cocking your hip, you ignored the stranger beside you while signing your receipt, listening to the lyrics - “And that night we left our hearts on our sleeves and the clothes all over the floor. We both know we can't open that door no more. But she kept the hotel key.” 

No one followed you into the parking lot this time.

That didn’t stop you from opening your door an hour later. You didn’t tell Jake to leave when he asked if he could come in. 

“This doesn’t…mean anything,” you panted, bowing off the mattress as his hips slammed into yours. Fingers twisted in the sheets, you promised yourself that it was the last time as he lurched forward to capture your mouth. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated after walking him to the door on shaking legs and flicking the lock into place early in the morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself, washing away Jake’s taste with a swig of his mouthwash. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you thought on a different night while dressing in the dark as he sprawled across the bed, arm outstretched toward where you'd been

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you hissed through clenched teeth while leaning over your bathroom sink to study your split lip. Pain throbbed in your outer thigh, and your knee socks were stained with blood. The slide into second had been textbook until the baseman obstructed the bag. Her shoulder hit your mouth, knocking you back so hard the helmet flew off your head when you hit the ground. The knee to the chest as the other player tried not to fall onto you wasn’t particularly fun, either. The immediate ‘oooh!’ from the spectators hadn’t helped as you rolled to your side, trying to catch your breath. 

It took a minute to get up, and you felt embarrassed at the scattered applause as Nat and Mel helped you off the field. And there, waiting at the dugout as you limped in, was Jake. Brows pinched and fist clenched at his sides, he studied you as you swiped the blood from your mouth. “What do you need?” 

“Water, some ice, and bandages,” Mel answered for you. She was a nurse at the base hospital when not playing on the team. Jake’s eyes shot to you before he nodded curtly and hurried to his truck. You winced as Mel checked you out for a concussion and used the old first aid kit to do her best to clean you up. Within 15 minutes, Jake returned with a bag and a cup full of ice from the NEX. You could feel Nat watching as he stood behind you, separated by the fence, Mel cleaning the abrasion on your thigh while you held the makeshift ice pack - the ice dumped into a t-shirt you recognized as his - to your mouth. 

Reluctantly, you’d sat out the rest of the game and declined Nat’s offer to drive you home. After promising Mel and the rest of the team that you’d go to the hospital if you felt worse, Nat walked you to your car with your bag slung over her shoulder. “Is something going on with you and Hangman?” she asked. Your face gave you away because she shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” The mantra slipped out without thought. 

It played through your head when you noticed a familiar truck a few cars behind you as you drove home. When Jake took your bag from the trunk and followed you up to your apartment. Again when he appeared behind you in the bathroom, something akin to worry in his eyes as he slowly turned you around, thumb lightly stroking your swollen mouth before placing a featherlight kiss on the hurt. 

“It doesn't mean anything,” you repeated when he stayed the rest of the day, sharing a shower and ordering dinner. When you watched TV and he made sure you iced your mouth. As you climbed into bed and he curled around you, his big hand spanning your stomach and lips brushing your shoulder. 

You didn’t have sex at all that day. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you murmured while falling asleep. 

And you dreamed of a whisper as you drifted off. “Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.”  

Sweat beaded your forehead as you clutched the desk, tears clouding your vision. Pain radiated from your stomach and back. Using the desk to lower yourself to the floor, you leaned against the cabinet and curled around the heating pad. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you attempted to force the heat deeper against your revolting uterus, swallowing against the acid rising in your throat. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, trying to breathe through the pain. It came in waves, worsening no matter what you did. With every break, you promised to get up and go to medical for some relief. You had duty in a few hours and needed to move. With only a few days left until the end of the deployment, your team was working on getting things wrapped up and ready to transition back to working on dry land. 

When the next cramp hit, you let out a low moan and clenched around the pain. Without realizing it, you held your breath, pain making your ears ring. A hand clamped on your shoulder, and you started, pulling in a deep breath and looking up at Nat’s worried gaze. You saw her lips move but were distracted by a warmth between your thighs. Unfurling slightly, you looked down and saw your sweatpants were dark and wet, the material clinging to your skin. 

“I think I pissed myself,” you said in a daze before tilting your head back against the cabinet, clinging to consciousness as the pain ramped up again. 

The phone lit up again, but you ignored it. Jake had already texted, asking what you were doing after work and hinting that he wanted to come over. But your period had finally shown up, and you felt like shit. With meds onboard and a heating pad on your stomach, you had no plans other than maybe Doordashing a crappy dinner and ice cream. Seeing your fuck buddy was out of the question. 

With a reality show on TV, you dozed on the couch under a blanket. The plot line wasn’t catching your attention, and you mentally ran through your morning briefing. A knock on the door startled you. Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from the cocoon and went to answer it. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, opening the door to find Jake. A confusing swirl of emotions crossed his face before a smirk teased his lips. 

“You didn’t answer my texts.” Annoyance surged through you. 

“So you figured you’d come over? Jesus, Jake, are you that hard up for sex that you can’t go a few - ”

“What?”

“It’s not happening. Not tonight,” you snapped, attempting to shut the door. His hand shot out to catch it. You quickly stepped back when he forced his way in.

“I’m not here to fuck,” he snapped, green eyes blazing. “You didn’t answer, and I got worried. Sorry for giving a shit and checking on you.” 

Crossing your arms under your aching breasts, you blinked away unbidden tears and bit your lip to keep it from wobbling as Jake scowled at you. Slowly, you blew a shuddering breath and dropped your gaze, wincing slightly as your back ached. “Sorry. I just… I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You watched him step closer and saw his hand lift as though to touch you before falling back to his side. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Which is it - you don’t feel good, or it’s nothing?”

“I’m on my period,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “That’s why I don’t feel good and why we can’t have sex, okay? Happy?” While you’d expected him to recoil with disgust like every other guy you’d been with, he just shrugged. 

“Okay, do you need anything?”

“Why, are you gonna go get me tampons?” you mocked.

“If you need some, yeah.” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “I have a sister. It wouldn’t be the first time I bought ‘em.” You ignored your fluttering heart and shook your head.

“Just go, Jake. I’m fine.” Turning away from him, you retreated to the couch. But instead of leaving, he walked to your bedroom. Squawking in irritation, you followed, hearing the shower turn on, “What the hell are you - ” When you stormed in, Jake was testing the water temperature. “What are you doing?”

All traces of irritation were gone from his expression as he closed the shower curtain and moved closer. His damp hand went to your hair, gently tugging so you tilted your head back. The kiss was soft and almost hesitant. He said your name tenderly, thumb gently stroking the curve of your ear, “You bled through your pants.”

“What?” you groaned, face flushing and tears of embarrassment wetting your eyes. But he held you still when you tried to step away.  

“It’s okay. Jump in the shower and get cleaned up. Do you need anything?” You shook your head. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I’ll order something.” 

“What d’ya want?” 

“A burger. And fries. And a chocolate milkshake.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead. 

“Alright. Anything else?” You shook your head. “Text me if you think of anything.”

“I’ll give you my card.” Rather than fight, he followed you out of the bathroom and took the credit card you handed him and a spare key so he could lock up behind him.

Once you’d increased the temperature, the shower felt magical. You stood under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water ease your sore body. By the time Jake was back, you had enough time to dry off, get dressed, and toss your clothes in the wash. He’d left your card on the kitchen counter. 

The moan you let out at the first bite of the burger made him choke on his shake. “Thought only I made you make that noise,” he said after coughing to clear his throat.

“This is the only meat going anywhere near my mouth tonight, Hangman.” Shaking his head, he wisely stayed silent as you devoured dinner. But when you expected him to leave after, he cleaned up and gently rolled you onto your side on the couch, slipping behind you and tugging the blanket over both of you. His hand slid around your front, covering yours, which held the heating pad. 

“Are they freaking out about a guy eating his wife’s pussy?” he asked as the reality show continued. You sighed sleepily. 

“Remind me to tell you about when I dated a Morman guy in high school and why his family still hates me.” 

After the episode ended, Jake forced you to get up and followed you into the bedroom, stripping off his jeans and t-shirt. You fell asleep, wrapped in his comforting scent, his warm hand pressed to your belly.

The next morning, you woke to Jake’s alarm going off and felt his lips brush your cheek before he carefully slid out of bed. Again, you stayed silent as he dressed, quickly closing your eyes when he got close. His fingers brushed the hair from your face, and you tilted into his lingering touch. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered.  

When your alarm went off an hour later, you forced yourself out of bed and got ready for work. And when you went to grab your coffee creamer, there was a bag of chocolates you hadn’t purchased in the fridge.

The front door was locked, and your spare key was nowhere to be found.

You dug your nails into Jake’s back, face buried in his neck. Another wave of pain crashed over you, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming. When Nat said she would get help, you’d expected Rooster or Bob. Instead, Jake had shouldered his way into your room and scooped you off the floor. While your general sense of direction was scrambled, you had a pretty good idea of where you were heading.

Everyone avoided medical if they could. And, as much as you wanted to keep whatever was happening off your records, something was wrong. In the recesses of your memory, you recalled when your mother’s appendix burst, and she’d been taken to emergency surgery. Would they be able to do surgery on the carrier? You were halfway between Hawaii and reaching the port in California. If they MEDEVAC’d you, would the helo get you to a hospital in time? What would happen if you didn’t get surgery fast enough?

Through the haze of pain, you heard Jake barking demands as soon as you entered the sick bay. But his touch was gentle as he laid you on the bed the corpsman directed him to. Nat spoke for you as pain froze your vocal cords, Jake’s calloused fingers brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. Nausea gripped you, and the cramps migrated to your lower back. 

And then they were gone, strangers crowding your field of vision. Unfamiliar hands tugged at your clothes and touched you as you tried to look past them. An oxygen mask was slipped over your face when you started to hyperventilate. Without thinking, you threw out an arm and felt strong fingers close around yours, squeezing tightly. Over the shoulders of the corpsman, you saw worry pinch Jake’s face, green eyes darting across your features. 

Then the room seemed quiet, broken only by a nurse ordering, “Go get the doc.” Someone moved enough for him to reclaim the spot at your side. The ultrasound wand pressed into your stomach continued to move, but you focused on your breathing and the grounding feeling of Jake’s thumb stroking your cheek above the mask’s elastic band. 

Someone else entered the room, and you tracked the woman as she took over the ultrasound, moving the wand across your stomach. Her brows were furrowed as she studied the image before shaking her head. When her piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, you felt the world disappear. “Lieutenant, did you know you’re pregnant?” 

Exiting the LT Colonel’s office, you forced yourself to breathe. You’d known this upcoming deployment would be rough but now there was the additional stress of cross-training as an analyst. Since starting your career, your job was briefing what the analysts provided. But now? Now, your boss wanted you to start working on learning the basics of geospatial intel (GEOINT). 

The carrier was the best place to start, the Colonel had explained. You would be able to see the real-time results of the analysis and the shift of assets and personnel to support the mission. “You need to do this if you’re going to advance. You’ve got the briefing down, Lieutenant, but if you want to get to Maryland, you’ll need a better understanding of what’s going on from the ground up,” he’d said.

You’d never expressed an interest in going to the Office of Naval Intelligence, but he thought you had what it took to work at the heart of Navy intel. 

The rest of the day passed in a daze, and you drove home on autopilot. Nat texted, inviting you to the Hard Deck, but you declined. Standing under the shower spray, you closed your eyes and swallowed hard.

GEOINT was directly connected to missions. Its data interpretations were central to planning operations, including determining where to send assets. 

Like F18s.

Pilots.

Your friends.

Nat.

Jake.

The thought of sending them into harm's way made your heart race. Delivering the information to higher-ups to allow them to determine what happened was one thing, but it was a whole other to be the one getting the raw data and interpreting it. One small decision could mean the difference between success and failure - life or death. 

Could you maintain objectivity, knowing that your work might send people you lov… cared about into harm’s way? 

Green eyes flashed in your vision. The phantom feeling of lips on your shoulders. Arms encircling your waist. A chuckle rang in your ears. 

No. If you had to do this - if it was your career or a man - you would choose your career. It mattered more than a fling that you’d let go on too long. You’d known from the beginning that the clock was ticking on your… whatever… with Jake. Nat had warned you from the start that he didn’t do relationships. And you weren’t looking for one. “It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself again. Sex didn’t mean anything. You enjoyed each other, and you were guaranteed an orgasm or three every time he came over. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you said, ignoring the extra toothbrush in the cabinet.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated, pushing aside his t-shirt that had somehow ended up in your drawer.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you snapped, swiping away the picture he’d texted of his bed, the covers pulled back on the side you usually slept on with an invitation to come over. 

“Pregnant?” Jake’s voice cut through your shock. “She’s not pregnant - I mean, look at her!” 

“I am,” the doctor said coolly, pushing the ultrasound wand into your stomach and turning the screen. And there, for everyone to see, was a baby.

“That’s not - ” you forced out before grunting as another cramp hit. Gasping, you clutched Jake’s hand tightly, feeling his shaking. The doctor quickly cleared the room of unnecessary personnel and stood at your feet.

“Lieutenant, I need to check, but I believe you're in labor.” You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “I’ll wait until the contraction ends, but I need to see how far along you are. How long have you been in pain?” 

The USS Theodore Roosevelt should have been your refuge. Nine months at sea was precisely what you needed to get Jake Seresin out of your system.

But fate was cruel, and a few members of the Dagger Squad were assigned to the carrier for the deployment. Nat shared the news when you went out for dinner, your counter for her asking to meet for drinks at the Hard Deck. If you never went to the pilot bar again, it would be too soon. And you were sure Jake would welcome your staying away.

It would be a long time before you forgot his look of surprise as you tumbled out of his bed and dressed quickly. Having sex one last time had been a mistake, especially when you’d gone over with the express purpose of ending it. After almost a year of messing around, he deserved more than a text, but your resolve faltered when he crowded you against the kitchen counter and stole kisses as he made dinner.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, tugging on your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. 

“What?” 

“This. I can’t…” From the corner of your eye, you saw him sit up, sheets pooling in his lap. “I don’t think we should.” While you’d tried to make yourself sound confident, your statement came out as a question.

“Why?”

“It’s not a good idea,” you stated. Your treacherous heart fractured when you forced yourself to look up. Confusion was etched across his face, hair a mess from your fingers running through it. Taking a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your wobbling lips. “It’s been fun.” 

“‘It’s been fun’,” he echoed. And then, between one blink and the next, his expression smoothed into a mask of indifference. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything.” You rolled your lips together to hide your wobbling chin. 

Preparing to deploy kept you busy over the next few weeks. In addition to packing, you had to meet with your property management to renew your lease and make sure they would check on your apartment while you were gone. Bills needed to be put on autopay, and your credit card company notified that you would be out of the country. You had an appointment to get a Power of Attorney set up for your parents and Will updated. A few days before you were to leave, they were planning to fly out to see you off at the port and drive your car back home so they could maintain it for you. Then, you had to complete the medical and dental clearances. 

The night before your parents arrived, Nat invited you to the Hard Deck to have drinks with everyone for an impromptu farewell party. It sounded more fun than cleaning out your pantry for anything that would expire while you were gone, but the odds of Jake being there were too high. When you texted to decline, her response made you pause.

Look, I know whatever was happening between you and Hangman ended. He’s been a depressing asshole. But he’s not gonna be there tonight. Think about coming?

The idea of Jake being sad made your stomach sink, reinforcing your decision to end it. Your arrangement was just supposed to be sex, and somewhere along the way, you’d started to fall for him. Which you couldn’t do. Not if you wanted to advance your career and protect your stupid heart. 

So, against your better judgment, you stripped off your clothes, dirty from cleaning the house, and stepped into the shower. The whole way to the bar, you toyed with the hem of your dress, promising to be in and out in an hour. Just enough time to have a drink and say bye to everyone before returning to your tasks. It was a surprise to see Nat waiting in the parking lot, and she hurried over to your car as you parked. “Okay, don’t hate me,” she said as soon as you opened the door.

“He’s here,” you guessed, resisting the urge to start the engine.

“He got here a minute ago. I swear, he said he wasn’t coming.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“It’s fine.” Lie. “We’re gonna see each other on the carrier. Might as well get used to it.” 

You felt his gaze as soon as you walked in and forced yourself not to look for him. With a beer in hand, you followed Nat to the - thankfully Jake-free - pool table and greeted the other aviators. While you’d planned on having just the one drink, shots were quickly pressed into your hand as everyone wanted to buy for the poor suckers facing months without alcohol. Your attempts to turn them down were ignored. But no amount of alcohol could numb the jolt of pain when you saw Jake casually toss his arm over another woman’s shoulders, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. 

A surge of hate shot through you like a lightning bolt. Hate for him touching her. For her flirty giggle and fingers toying with his flight suit zipper. For your letting yourself have feelings for him. For coming out tonight and getting tipsy enough that you couldn’t drive for a little while.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you told Nat, giving her a fake smile. 

“Want me to come with?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow. 

“Nah, finish your game with the guys. I’ll be back in a bit.” Dropping your empty beer bottle on the bar, you pushed through the late evening crowd to get to the patio. The cool night air was a welcomed counterpoint to your flushed cheeks as you brushed past the people mingling to get to the stairs. Your feet slid in the sand as you walked to the shore after kicking off your shoes. Moving away from the lights and noise from the Hard Deck, you walked along the waterline, waves crashing over your feet. Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed the scream that threatened to choke you.

Two and a half weeks. That’s all it took for him to find your replacement in his bed. It was good that you’d swallowed those three words that had threatened to spill from your lips every time he left. When he did something so sweet, you could pretend he cared about more than sex. When you fell asleep with his heartbeat under your cheek or his breath on the back of your neck, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on your skin. 

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked over your shoulder, spotting the person you didn’t want to see jogging toward you. Quickly dashing away the tears on your cheeks, you kept walking, ignoring his calls for you to stop. And then he was there, planting himself in front of you and blocking your way. You itched to throw your shoes at him and took some satisfaction when the next wave washed over his boots and soaked the legs of his suit. “What?” you demanded.

“‘What?’” he echoed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who stormed out.”

“I didn’t ‘storm out,’” you snapped. “I needed some air.”

“Why?” 

“Because!” He stepped closer, and you tried to step back, but your feet had sunk into the sand, and you stumbled. Jake’s hand shot out to steady you, and you quickly shook it off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you. Don’t talk to you. Can I look at you, or is that against your rules?” Sarcasm colored his voice, and you bristled.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

A huff of disbelief burst from him, and he ran through his hair. “Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad.”

“Coulda fooled me.” 

“Leave me alone, Jake.” Your shoulders knocked when you pushed past him.

“You don’t get to be pissed when you’re the one who ended it.” 

“And I can tell you’re real torn up about that. I’m sure that tag chaser is more than happy to kiss you all better.” 

His laugh was cruel. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” 

“Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.” Those taunting words were like a dagger to the heart. Gritting your teeth, you stormed toward him, lifted your hands, and shoved. Jake stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. You shoved again, and he caught your hands, using them to pull you closer. Trapping both of your wrists in one hand against his chest, he tossed your shoes further up the beach before clamping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. “You didn’t like seeing me touch her, did you? Only want me to touch you? Fuck you and make you feel good?” 

“No,” you said through clenched teeth. The arm around your waist disappeared as he gently wiped the tears from your cheek.

“‘No’ you didn’t care, or ‘no’ you only want me touching you?”

“No.” 

Jake’s eyes narrowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything,” you reminded yourself. His eyes roamed your face, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“You know… you might be the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he said, shaking his head. Your breath caught as he released your hands and stepped back. Turning away, he moved up the beach and retrieved your shoes. You followed in a daze, trying to process his words. The worst thing that ever happened to him? You?

Your fingers grazed when he handed you the shoes. The weak moonlight cast shadows over his features, giving you a false sense of safety when you admitted, “I was jealous.” Jake lifted a hand before letting it drop back to his side. Pushing aside your rational self, you stepped into his space and pushed onto your toes, hand splayed on his chest. When you kissed him, he didn’t respond, and mortification washed through you as you fell back onto your heels. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, stepping away from him and turning toward the Hard Deck. You needed to leave. You needed to get away from him. Space to clear your - 

A hand tugged you backward. Jake’s mouth crashed into yours, tongue tracing the seam of your lips and demanding entry. Your shoes hit the sand again, one hand tangling in his hair while the other felt his heart pounding under your palm. His hand slid under the hem of your dress, cupping your ass, hauling you against him. You moaned into his kiss, fingers flumbling with his flight suit zipper, needing to erase everywhere that woman had touched him. 

The sand was cool under your knees when he lowered you both to the ground before pulling you into his lap. He shrugged off his flight suit and let you pull off his shirt before slipping the thin straps of your dress from your shoulders and tugging it down, stroking your nipples through your bra before lifting your breast from the cups. Trailing kisses from your mouth down your chest, Jake lavished your breasts with attention as you ground down on his hard cock. Groaning, his fingers slipped under your dress to brush your damp panties. He swallowed your choked moan when he tugged them to the side and ran his thumb over your clit. 

“No time,” you breathed, lifting yourself onto your knees and tugging his zipper further down. Reaching into his briefs, you stroked his cock before drawing it out. Your head fell back as you sank down onto him, the stretch tiptoeing the line of pain and pleasure. Jake cursed under his breath, hands on your hips to help guide you. Once seated, you buried your face in his neck, panting as his fingers flexed around you.

“Need ta move, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Please.” Not shifting from your spot, you nodded and felt his tentative thrusts. Moaning into his skin, you let him set the pace for a minute before taking control. Jake pinched your nipples, smirking against your chest as you rode him until you tugged his head back and kissed him. Those three words were on the tip of your tongue as you chased your pleasure, shattering around him as the waves crashed on the shore. Jake came moments later, teeth digging into the curve of your breast as he grunted and whimpered. 

You traded lazy kisses while catching your breath. When the ocean breeze made you shiver, Jake helped you dress, sitting still when you used his shoulders to steady yourself as you stood. He tucked himself away, and you helped brush the sand from each other after he dressed. His fingers tangled in yours as you made your way back to the bar, your thighs sticky with his cum.

His lips brushed your as you separated before hitting the patio. Once inside, you beelined for the bathroom to clean up. While washing your hands, you studied your reflection, noting the flush on your cheeks and the irritation spots on your throat and chest where Jake’s stubble had scratched you. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out what you’d been doing. 

Exiting the bathroom, your gaze swept the room. You froze in the hallway, eyes snagging on where Jake stood at the bar, the woman from before beside him. He nodded at something she said while flagging down a bartender. And when he turned to glance at her, she reached up and kissed him. Nausea gripped your stomach, and you looked away. You were an idiot. Hurrying to the pool table, you grabbed your purse and said goodnight. 

As you pulled out of the parking spot, you saw Jake standing in the doorway, watching you leave. 

“I can’t be p-pregnant,” you gasped, ripping the oxygen mask from your face. “I-I would have known.” Pain flickered across your face, and your grip on Jake’s hand tightened as the doctor inserted her fingers, her face a mask of concentration.

“Well, you are,” she said after a moment. “And the baby’s coming. You’re almost fully dilated.”

“What?” Your voice melded with Jake’s. You shook your head, panic gripping your throat. “No. No, no, no, no.” As soon as the doctor’s hand left your body, you tried to get off the exam table. Your knees buckled, and Jake caught you before you hit the floor. You buried your face in his neck. “No. This is a nightmare, I’m not - I can’t - ”

“Lieutenant,” the doc said, crouching beside you. “I know this is scary and not something you were prepared for, but I need you to listen to everything I tell you, alright? You’re too far along for us to MEDEVAC you off the ship. You’re gonna have your little one right here. Alright?”

“No.” 

“I need to let the captain know. We’ll move you to where we have a little more room to navigate this, okay? I’ll send one of the corpsmen in to help you get as comfortable as we can make you for this. Please work with us so we can ensure you and your baby deliver safely.” When you groaned, Jake’s fingers raked through your hair and then lightly squeezed the back of your neck. Pain gripped you, and your hands twisted in his t-shirt as you tensed. 

He drew away, hands on either side of your face as green eyes bore into yours. “I need you to breathe, sweetheart. Don’t hold your breath on me. Breathe.” 

Even while sharing a stateroom with Nat, you were able to avoid Jake for the most part. But even though there were 6,000 people on board, you still ran into one another occasionally. In the wardroom, you shook off Nat’s waves to join their table and sat with your team instead. The few times you went to the gym at the same time, you used the equipment furthest away from him and kept your headphones on. 

Your new assignment kept you busy. In addition to preparing and delivering briefings, you started working with the analysts to learn how to process the raw data you usually received in a polished format. It didn’t help that, as usual, for your first few weeks underway, you felt gross. Being in close quarters with so many people made common illnesses run rampant, and your stomach always took a little while to get used to the food in the wardroom. You fell into bed exhausted at night, stressing about what you would face the next day. 

The first time your data was used for the pilot’s briefing, you were invited into the classroom to listen to the admiral brief the aviators. And, while you nodded to Nat when she smiled at you, you kept your expression blank as you followed the admiral to the front of the room, ignoring the eyes boring into you. 

The carrier hit rough seas around Australia five months into the deployment. In the lower decks, you could feel the ship rolling and knew that topside had to be worse. The constant rocking made you nauseous, but you stayed at your desk. It wasn’t until you went to the coffee shop that you heard what was happening with the aviators. They’d been ordered out for pitching deck training. Takeoff and landing were dangerous at the best of times, but now they had to do it as the ground rolled beneath them. “Gonna have a shit ton of bolters,” the sailor ahead of you said to his buddy. You remembered Nat using that term - it was when the pilot missed the wire and had to circle to try and land again. 

Later that afternoon, you heard the tankers were deploying to aid the planes in the air. Your team was tasked with finding the nearest divert field if conditions worsened and the pilots couldn’t land. But you were more than 700 miles from land. There were no options.

Dinner in the wardroom was a tense affair, the officers sharing what they could about their friends stuck in the air. Rumor had it that they’d scrubbed the mission, grounding all aircraft except the tankers to refuel the jets. As night fell, you knew it would only get worse for your friends as they tried to get back onto the ship. After forcing down a few bites of dinner, you went to the gym, where the bay doors were usually open, and you could see the aircraft line up before landing. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, as you were told it was useless before you got close. “They close the doors - waves are too high,” another officer said. 

You could feel the carrier rocking side to side the higher you got. Unsure of where else to go, you went to the Ready Room. Pilots watched the radar, commenting on their colleague's attempts and laughing at the jets overhead. “Sorry,” you said, tapping one of the men on the shoulder. “Any updates on Phoenix, Rooster, and Hangman?”

The pilot gave you a look, clearly indicating you weren’t welcome into their inner sanctuary. “Still in the air,” he said after a beat. “Nine jets and three tankers are up.” You nodded your thanks, jumping as there was a thud overhead followed by the roar of an engine. 

“Thanks, I-I appreciate it.” Hurrying out of the room, you debated your next move. There was no way they’d be letting anybody up on deck to watch, and your normal vantage point was closed. There was a chance you could hear what was going on if you returned to your desk - if anyone had to ditch their jet and search and rescue was deployed, that would be announced. Waiting in your room for Nat to come back was out of the question.

With no good options, you paced the hallway outside of the Ready Room. All of the jet pilots would eventually make their way there to debrief or join the watch with their colleagues. As the ship rocked, you found yourself catching the walls. Typically, on a ship this big, you didn’t feel the waves, so the swells had to be massive. 

After chewing your nails down to the quick, you looked up when someone called your name. Nat and Bob were there, looking tired but no worse for the wear. Without thinking, you hurried toward them, throwing your arms around Nat and hugging her tightly before pulling away and doing the same with Bob. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried.” 

“We’re good,” Bob assured you, patting your back before pulling away. “Ready for somethin’ to eat and a shower, but other than that, completely fine.”

“What about J - Rooster and Hangman?” you demanded, catching yourself. 

“Still circling. I’d say they’ve got another few passes before it gets desperate,” Nat shrugged. At your look of alarm, she shook her head. “They’re gonna be fine. They’ll refuel if they need to - the tankers are gonna be staggered for landing to make sure that there’s support in the air if they need it.” 

“Okay,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “Alright. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?” 

“I’d kill for something to drink,” Nat said. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded. “I-I’ll run to the store. Bob?” 

“Jerky’d be good.” 

“You got it. Meet you back here?” 

“We’ll be in there. Just come on in,” Nat said before you hugged them both quickly and walk-ran to the Ship’s Store. The line outside moved agonizingly slow, and you tapped your foot and looked at your watch more than once. This far below deck, you couldn’t hear anything overhead. When you finally got inside, you filled the basket to the brim with snacks and sodas, glad you’d grabbed your wallet with your Navy Cash card before leaving the room.

By the time you returned to the Ready Room, Rooster had landed. His curls were damp with sweat, and he accepted your hug before grabbing some chips from the bags you’d dropped on the table. The snacks had bought your way into the room, as the pilots didn’t say anything as you clung to the wall, listening to them analyze every approach. 

Another pilot entered and grabbed a soda. “Dude, what the fuck?” he laughed while hugging a friend. “I thought I was gonna hit the back of the ship. I looked down, and then WHOOP - I’m wavin’ down at them cause the ship dropped.” He held up his hand to show how much it trembled, which worried you more than anything else. 

Bile rose in your throat as you watched the radar, listening as they laughed as someone hit the deck too hard and bounced, missing the wires and taking off to circle again. “Hangman’s approaching,” Bob told you, his eyes glued to the television. You crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your thumbnail again as you watched the approach. 

A thud overhead followed by a quick “Hell yes!” let you know he’d caught the wire. Unwelcome tears of relief flooded your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let yourself sag against the wall. He was safe onboard, and that’s all that mattered. “I-I’m gonna head back to the room,” you said, pushing through the small crowd to Nat. 

“Alright. I’m gonna watch everyone else land and then grab some food.” Nodding, you pulled your friend in for a tight hug, biting back a sob before fleeing the room. 

You must have lingered longer than you thought because, when you stepped into the hallway, you spotted Jake walking toward the Ready Room. He was looking at the floor, scrubbing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, helmet swinging from his hand. You stopped dead in your tracks and watched as he registered your presence. Something flickered in his eyes, and his long legs ate the distance between you. The helmet clattered on the floor as he reached for you, cupping your face in his gloved hand and kissing you hard. Your arms went around him, clutching as tightly as you could in his g-suit, needing the reassurance that he was fine. His tongue swept into your mouth, a moan rumbling in his throat. 

When you broke apart to breathe, his forehead rested on yours, his breath washing over your face. “You’re okay?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, throat bobbing before kissing you more gently this time. His thumb stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’m alright, sweetheart. Tired and hungry, but okay.”

“Good,” you nodded before repeating yourself. “Good. There’s soda and sn-snacks in the R-Ready Room.” Nodding again, you forced a smile while stepping out of his arms. 

“Sweet - ”

“Don’t.” Your voice cracked as you held out a shaking hand. “Please don’t. Just…just leave it.” 

That didn’t keep him from reaching for you as you brushed past, his fingers trailing down your arm before you shook him off.

The next hour passed in a blur of pain and confusion, ending in a surge of pain and then relief as they placed a squalling baby on your chest. Jake held your hand throughout the ordeal, encouraging you to breathe and push, ignoring the way you hissed, “I hate you so much,” through the worst of it. When the nurse snapped that you needed to breathe normally, not like a pilot, he quickly adjusted his coaching, afraid of getting kicked out of the room.  

Staring into your son’s eyes, you felt a sense of utter disbelief in his existence. You’d carried him for months, oblivious to his presence as he grew inside you. But you cried when they took him, tracking the little stranger as he was moved around the room until he was safely back in your arms, wrapped in a rough Navy standard-issue blanket. 

“He’s small but healthy - 5 pounds, 4 ounces, and 17 inches long,” the doc said, smiling tiredly. “There’s a helo inbound with supplies, but we’ll make due for now. Congrats, Mom.” Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you nodded, cradling the boy to your chest and laughing at the small grunts he made as he nuzzled your breast. Jake stroked the baby’s whispy hair before running his thumb over the tiny shell of his ear. 

“He’s so small,” he breathed. “Fuck - ”

“Don’t,” you said, cutting him off. “Don’t cuss around my s-” Clapping a hand to your mouth, you tried to stifle your sob as tears streamed down your face. “My son,” you forced out, trailing the tip of your finger down his button nose. He scrunched his face, tiny fists waving in the air. You caught one, unfurling his fingers and letting them close around your fingertip. You were enraptured by his tiny fingernails and lines in his palm, gently guiding it to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. His eyes opened, meeting yours. “Hi, baby,” you whispered, “I’m your mama.” 

Later, Jake sat in the chair beside your bed as you slept. His shirt was off as he cradled the baby to his chest, staring at the impossible little boy. There was a knock at the door, and he looked up to see the Captain peek in. Jake moved as though to stand, but the older man held up a hand to stop him. “At ease, Lieutenant. Just wanted to stop in and see how the little stowaway was doing.” 

“Great,” he replied, flushing slightly at being shirtless in front of his commanding officer. “Sleeping now.” 

“Good. And Mom?” the Captain asked, his eyes darting toward where you slept. 

“Good. In shock, but good.” 

“I can imagine. May I?” He motioned toward the baby. Reluctant to let him go, Jake handed him over, ensuring the Captain supported his head. “He’s a tiny one, isn’t he?” 

“Yeah.” Jake nodded. 

“Doc told me that everyone was doing well, but I’ll feel better once the Lieutenant and this little guy are on their way back to shore. The helo just landed with diapers, an incubator, and formula, so we’ll get them fueled up and ready to head out in the next few hours.” 

“Right.” The word was strangled, and Jake reached out for the baby. The Captain handed him back with a practiced ease. 

“We’re due in port in three days. Just a temporary separation, Lieutenant,” he said, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Little man’s gonna need to get used to it, with two parents in the Navy.” Jake cleared his throat, regretting it the instant the baby flailed, tiny fists raising and resting on his cheek. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. They’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Sir.” With a nod and handshake, the Captain walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold.

“Does he have a name?”

“Not yet.” He smiled, tapping his fist against the wall.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Maybe a nod to where he was born?”

Jake thought that watching you being loaded into the helo with the baby in a plastic box and flying away was the hardest thing he’d done. But the next three days at sea were a test of his patience. He fantasized about stealing his jet and flying after you, ignoring the logistics of loading it onto the catapult and that his plane wouldn’t reach California without a refuel. Knowing that you and the baby weren’t on the carrier felt like a hole in his heart.

It was difficult to explain what happened to Bradley and Bob, and he was thankful Nat was there to help. 

The Captain announced the birth over the intercom before you were loaded onto the helo, explaining that the carrier was one heavy and your son the first baby born on the ship. It was all anyone could talk about for the rest of the deployment. Hell, the Navy Times even wrote an article that was picked up by other news agencies. Everyone wondered how you didn’t know you were pregnant. Those who worked closest with you defended you, pointing out that no one would have guessed you were pregnant. And when it came out that you weren’t married, they questioned who the father was.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nat cornered him, demanding an answer to that question. His response was a definitive “Me.” Jake knew in his gut that the baby was his. He’d looked into his eyes and felt a connection he’d never experienced.

Besides, the window of time for you to have gotten pregnant between your pre-deployment exam and getting on the carrier was narrow. There was no one else. 

Calling his family and explaining everything that happened had been hard. While his parents were excited by the idea of a grandchild with the woman they’d heard so much about, his sister cautioned him against claiming the baby without confirmation of paternity. He knew she was a bit suspicious of you, especially after he made the mistake of calling one morning after you’d left, and he’d heard you mutter those four words he despised - “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“You can’t make her want something more than casual if that’s what you started with,” she’d cautioned, reminding him that you’d locked him out of your apartment that first morning when he left to pick up breakfast and hadn’t opened the door when he knocked. “She’s being upfront with you, at least.” But her advice didn’t stop him from trying to show you how much more he wanted, afraid that if he said the words aloud that he'd whispered when you slept in his arms, you’d run for the hills.  

Launch day couldn’t come soon enough. After nine months on the Roosevelt, Jake was ready to get home. Three days without his son was torture, and he was ready to get home to both of you. Flying in formation back to North Island tested his patience, and he pushed past the families rushing the flight line to greet their loved ones. Nat had argued with him about taking your things, but they were quickly unloaded from his cargo pod. Coyote had dropped off his truck earlier, leaving the keys hidden under the fuel door. While his friend had offered to pick him up, Jake didn’t want to waste time. Besides, he’d see him later - rather than keeping his place during the deployment, he’d broken his apartment lease and put everything into storage. Rather than pay rent, he’d saved the money and planned to sleep on Coyote’s couch until he got a new place. 

Standing in front of a wall of diapers at the store confused the shit out of him, so Jake grabbed a premie and newborn box before detouring to the flowers. The bouquets weren’t the best, but he didn’t have time to visit an actual florist. Picking the best of the options, he checked out and headed to your place.

A strange woman answered the door. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him in his flight suit and messy hair, flowers in hand, and two boxes of diapers at his feet. “Can I help you?” 

“Ma’am,” Jake said, clearing his throat. “I’m, um, I’m here to see - ” 

An angry squawk drew his attention, and he looked over the woman’s shoulder to see you walking out of the bedroom. “I can’t get him to bur…” you trailed off, catching sight of Jake in your doorway. You breathed his name, hand pausing on your son’s back as he howled. 

“Excuse me,” Jake said, brushing past your mother and striding across your living room. He hesitated in front of you before lifting a hand and covering yours, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand. “Can I?” Stunned, you nodded, accepting the roses he handed you in exchange for the baby. You watched as Jake held him to his shoulder, his big hand spanning the baby’s back and patting. “Hey, little man, are you giving Mama a hard time?” 

“I’m gonna take the trash out,” your mother said after stacking the diaper boxes beside the TV stand. You nodded wordlessly, unable to look away from Jake as he walked around your living room, patting the baby’s back and cooing until he let out a loud belch.

“Good man,” Jake chuckled, kissing his cheek. 

“I didn’t realize what day it was. We just got out of the hospital yesterday,” you rambled. “The pediatrician said he’s perfect. I-I didn’t screw him up too much.” Tears clouded your vision, and you bit your lower lip when it wobbled. 

“Hey, sweetheart - it’s okay. C’mere.” Jake held out an arm for you, and you allowed yourself to be pulled into his embrace, feeling his lips on the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve gotcha. Both of you.” 

“He’s yours,” you sobbed. “I swear. W-we can d-do a paternity t-test - ”

“I know he is.” 

“He has my last n-name, but I got the paperwork to c-change that if - if that’s what y-you want.” 

“We’ll start with that one,” Jake said, tugging closer. “Won’t we, Teddy?” 

There were so many things you needed to talk about. So much that needed to be done - including introducing himself to who he suspected was Teddy’s other grandmother, and preparing for his family visit with his niece and nephew. But that didn’t matter, as Jake felt his son’s fingers curl into the collar of his flight suit, and you sagged against him. 

Jake had everything he needed.

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: I really thought this one wasn't gonna be this long BUT I managed to cut it down about 800 words from the first draft, so success! Thank you to @mjisbby for the prompt, and I apologize for it taking so long... I know you sent in in October and wanted comedy, but the angst just came pouring out 😅

Basic the fic at sea was drawn from this inspiration, where a sailor had her baby at sea during a deployment. And the pitching deck bit came from watching this video on how dangerous it can be. All the stuff on cryptic pregnancies comes from Googling and reading Reddit boards about women not realizing their pregnancy symptoms until later in their pregnancy. All medical and military inaccuracies are being blamed on ✨fanfic logic✨

Thank you for taking the time to read this very long fic! Title comes from Nothing / Sad N Stuff from Lizzy McAlpine.

Got an ask about what happens next with this little family, so here are my thoughts.

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

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[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 15 - welcome cara

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: alcohol, language

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after you had picked up cara from the airport, it had been nothing but non stop talking trying to catch up on everything. she was desperate to meet your friends, but more importantly, your boyfriend who you hadn't stopped talking about.

"so when am i going to get to meet the famous rafe?" cara asked you with raised eyebrows.

"well actually," you started, "we're all going out tonight so you'll get to meet everyone!"

"my first night out in new york" she giggled, "better make it a good one."

after many outfit changes and singing along to your pre's playlist it was time to go. you ordered an uber and texted the girls you were on your way.

a short drive later, and you pulled up at the bar where the boys were already waiting.

"hi baby." rafe came up to you and gave you a quick kiss.

"rafe cameron its an honour to meet you." cara said, pulling him into an unwanted hug.

jj coughed beside you, and cara's attention turned to him, "i'm jj." he said, offering his hand.

"i know." she replied confidently, as topper and rafe gave each other a look.

you laughed nervously, taking rafe’s hand as you led the group inside. "alright, let's get drinks before cara here starts plotting my demise," you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

the rest of the girls eventually arrived, and you felt a wash of relief washing over you, unsure why.

"y/n!!" sarah screamed, pulling you into a massive hug. "and you must be cara. it's so nice to finally meet you."

"and you! y/n talks about you guys all the time." she said, turning to the rest of the girls.

you all head inside, rafe's hand never leaving your waist, more protective than usual. you all headed towards the bar to take some shots, vowing to a good night.

as the night went on however, you couldn't shake the feeling that cara's presence was more than just about catching up. every time rafe said something she would laugh or casually touch his arm, only leading him to hold a stronger grip on you. you felt a tiny prickle of unease. you brushed it off as paranoia, after all, it was just your best friend being friendly. right?

the drinks were flowing, and everyone was dancing and having a good time, but you couldn’t help but notice how cara kept inching closer to rafe and stand next to him when there was plenty of space, and every time you glanced their way, her hand would rest casually on his shoulder or his arm, lingering for just a moment too long.

you tried to shake it off, but the pit in your stomach kept growing. rafe hadn’t seemed to notice, he was too busy looking at you.

you excused yourself for a bathroom break, needing to clear your head, sarah and kie following after you.

"are you ok y/n? you seem off." kie asked you.

"yeah yeah i'm fine just needed a break." you muttered.

"you're lying." sarah responded.

"no i'm not." you said defensively.

"well you're not leaving this bathroom until you tell us the truth." she replied.

"i think i'm over reacting." you started, "but i know how obsessed cara is with city lights and i just have this weird feeling."

"jealously" lie smirked.

sarah gave her a light smack, "shut up kie. not helping" she said seriously.

"it's probably fine." you carried on, "but she's just acting different. i've known her almost my whole life and she's hardly paying attention to me and all on rafe."

"ok well she might just be fangirling a little, y'know? i wouldn't take it as anything to worry about." sarah squeezed your hand.

"you're right, as always." you said.

"let's get back out there okay? we've got you." kie smiled as you made your way out.

as you walked back into the main room, your eyes caught cara and rafe in deep conversation.

"are you sure she knows how lucky she is to have you?" cara's voice asked, dripping with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

rafe chuckled, clearly not picking up on the tension. "she does, yeah. i love her. she's the one for me."

you stopped in your tracks, heart racing.

cara’s laugh echoed in your ears, "i bet she is."

shaking your head, you took a deep breath, you couldn’t let the insecurities take hold. not tonight, not when you were supposed to be having fun.

you turned the corner, walking right up to them, plastering on a smile. "hey, what are you two plotting over here?"

both of them froze for a moment, cara's expression shifting briefly, "just talking about how great rafe is. he really knows how to treat a girl, doesn’t he?"

rafe looked between the two of you, a confused frown crossing his face, but he shrugged. "yeah, i guess i do." he smiled at you, his arm instinctively pulling you close.

you tried to ignore the knot in your stomach as you followed rafe back into the crowd, but as the night wore on, it became harder to deny what you were feeling. cara wasn’t just here to meet your friends and have fun. she was here to make her move.

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a/n: you guys were right of course... we hate cara and you are all clever for having a bad gut feeling hehhe

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[embbarnes]

This took me so long I'm so sorryyyyy. I meant to do this like, last week. I've just been busy prepping for my new addition lol.

I adored this one, you did such a good job writing him and I think this is one of my fav Logan fics from you!

Like always my thoughts and such are below the cut ~

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

My first thought was yes, I feel this hard.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

I love a jealous Logan. I love the neighbor trope so much too, it was one I never really thought about until reading your fics.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?” “You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Ay ay ay...Logan, don't judge. Sometimes it's nice to go out and treat yourself

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue. You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before. You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face. “It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.” Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface. “Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

I've never been to a place like this or had Korean bbq at all and my first thought was the same as his, but I've always wanted to try it lol.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

She's better than me I'd NEVER work myself to ask him this lmaoo

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building. “What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance. “As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead. The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

Yesss this is what I was waiting for! She's so playful lol and he's a big ol' tease.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

No no...this is good.

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans. Oh. All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down. “This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

This okay with you - girl, he's about to bust rn. He's def okay with this lol

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

A gentleman, don't argue w me.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud. He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

He is diving in there 😩 Grab his hair and tug -

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?” “God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

LMAO same girl 😭

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.” You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place. “I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

This ending was so hilarious too I absolutely loved it from start to finish. The fin little moments and the build up, the smut scene was HOT and the funny little quips added into the fic were MUAH. You did sooo good with this one ~ 💕💕💕

either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

[softaestluv]

Guard Dogs

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 of 5

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Tags: Angst, Fluff, & Eventual Smut

Summary: You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Ghost, who won’t admit it, gets a dog because when he’s not on assignments he gets lonely. His home feels terribly empty all by himself; the silence deafening, borderline painful. Adopted him from the local shelter, a German shepherd who he names Riley. Tells everyone that he needed a guard dog to protect his belongings when he’s not home, but everyone knows his prized possessions are far and few in between. Could hold all of them in his palms, carries them with him all the time anyways.

He trained Riley rigorously just like he did in the military. Treated him just as he did his trainees. Until he was obedient and well-behaved, listened to his every command. A perfect sidekick for him. Kept him company in his home that felt too large to be alone in. Always at his feet or curled into his side on the couch. A couch he probably shouldn’t let him on or bed sheets he shouldn’t be tangled in, but Ghost had a soft spot for him. Broke the rules for him because he was his dog after all, made the silence and loneliness a little bearable. Made his home a little more warm.

Riley who seemed to take a liking to you— the pretty bird who lived across the street. Made him think that maybe Riley was more like him than he realized; his own eyes had been drawn to you multiple times. He was usually well-behaved, didn’t approach strangers or jump on them for their attention. Ghost had trained him better than that. However, the first time he crossed your path on a walk, he pulled Simon by the leash, pressed his nose against your calf eagerly in interest.

You stopped in your tracks with a soft noise of surprise, “Oh! Well, hi there!” Your focus shifted to Simon, “Is it okay if I pet him?”

Simon hummed nodding his head in response. Gave him a small smile before squatting down eye level to Riley. Pet down his back and scratched behind his ears, Riley wagging his tail swiftly behind him, would probably purr if he was a cat. Dog hair covering your black shirt as he snuggled into your touch, but you didn’t seem to mind too much.

Cooed baby voiced praises to him that had him whining happily, “What’s your name, sweet boy?”

“Riley.”

“Riley,” You repeated softly, caused him to bark loudly in response. Snickered quietly at the noise, “Nice to meet you too, Riley.”

“Sorry, he doesn’t usually bug people like this,” Simon apologized, tugging on his leash lightly to pull him away.

You stood up at that, shaking your head, “Don’t worry. I don’t mind at all he’s a sweetheart.”

“Got dog hair all over ya now.” Gestured to the hair decorated on your clothing.

You exhaled a chuckle, brushing the fur off as best you could, “No worries, I live up the block. On my way home, anyways, just on a run.”

“Think I might live across from you. Moved in a couple months ago, but haven’t really been around.”

“Oh, yes! Wondered who lived there for a while now,” Held your hand out for him to take, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Riley whined when Simon pulled him away, tried to follow after you when you continued your jog. Sat and watched you run away despite Simon’s tugging or lack there of.

After that there wasn’t a day they didn’t run into you. Simon always woke up too early, military sleeping schedule beat into his mind. Didn’t have pleasant enough dreams to keep sleeping most nights anyways. At least that was the excuse he created in his mind to validate his actions.

Maybe Riley was his wingman, pressed his nose against your calf every time he passed you. Caused you to stop and greet them both, gave Riley endless pets and scratches before you turned your attention to Simon with a pretty smile. Drenched in sweat and frizzy hair from running, but each look from you had his mouth drying. Didn’t care that he wore a balaclava, didn’t even ask, chose to focus on his eyes instead.

Became his favorite part of his days, looking forward to the small interaction he would have with you. No matter how insignificant it was, but nothing seemed to be that way with you. Asked how he was, how did his day go yesterday, and how was Riley doing? How was work? Tiring, of course. Maybe you should sleep more instead of waking up so early!

He would if he could, but then he wouldn’t get to see you. His pretty neighbor, too sweet for her own good.

The only other time he got to see you was through your windows in the evening. It’s not like he was watching you, really, he wasn’t a stalker. He just so happened to be by his living room window everytime you came home from work. 6 o’clock on the dot, 5 on Fridays, started your weekends early.

Watched you slip out of your car, different sundress every time, dressed just like a pretty doll. Flowy and ruffled, hid your figure well enough. Didn’t flaunt it, but he knew what was underneath it all. Had seen your silhouette through the dimly lit curtains, shadows of you peeling layers off to shower.

Simon wasn’t a pervert, he wasn’t desperate for these small glimpses every night. But didn’t you know you should be more careful sweetheart? There were perverts out there, you were lucky he wasn’t one. Only kept looking to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

The evils of other men that you never brought home. No boyfriend in sight. Never stayed out late, even on weekends. Stayed snuggled on your couch or cooked for most of your free time. A proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy.

Cooking he wanted desperately to try, spent hours in your kitchen preparing god knows what. It’s not like Simon would even know what you were making, his countless store bought meals buried in his trash were evident enough. Hoped he might get a taste one day, melt on his tongue because he knew it would be delicious.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar rather than enjoying the warmth of your home and cooking. So he cherished what he could get, the small greetings every morning, and the clockwork of watching you every night. Even if Riley wanted more.

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 4

… -.-. —- .-. .—. .. —- / … - .. .-.. .-.. / .- -.-. - .. …- .

Part 1 found here | AO3

CW: restraints, shots (medicine), disassociation, unresolved sexual needs

Waking comes slowly. The scent of rut and pancakes oozes from under the door. For the sourness of your own scent, you had always been able to use your nose better than most people you met. Within two minutes of all the men coming down the stairs you knew the tallest one who glared at you, Simon they called him, would be starting his rut.

Realizing you could smell it coming you tried to warn betas if they were going into rut or heat. You stopped doing that when Sarah mentioned some of the betas requesting suppressants instead of dealing with their oncoming cycle.

“Something interesting happened today, I want to run it by you.”

Bitch smiled down at you where you lay strapped to the table, bit firmly wedged between your teeth. You had taken the tip of her finger the last time she had you on the table and didn’t seem keen to repeat the experience. Sarah had not let you brush your teeth for four days, ‘to teach you a lesson about biting the hand that feeds’ or some other bullshit. All you had learned is to love the taste of blood in your mouth.

“Seems some of our guests have decided that they are going into rut and would rather not deal with that,” Sarah uncapped a needle, drawing air into it before plunging it into a vial marked only with a serial number.

Squirming did nothing to put distance between you and the evils held in the tiny clear vial. Replacing the air for liquid Sarah set the vial down gently before swiveling to you. You hated those small stools with no backs and the stupid mint green painted along the walls. When you finally died from Sarah’s ‘care’ this is what hell would look like.

“They were bunking in your room, and they aren’t the first beta to request this after spending time with you,” she grabbed your arm, pinching up the muscle between her finger and thumb. “Seems like we need a bit more information about your brain.”

A sound from beyond the locked door to your room pulls you from the memory. Covered in sweat and panting you scramble off your bed and peer underneath it to confirm you were alone. Once your room confirmed its emptiness you stripped your night clothes off. You hated buttons on your sleeping outfits but you didn’t trust these men yet and refused to tell them anything if you could help it. Using the pant leg to wipe off as much of the fear sweat from your body as you could you then dress in a matching set of loose beige sweats. They reminded you of what Scorpio provided.

Opening your door you scan what you can of the room before sliding through the smallest space you could. The door is shut tight behind you. Stepping silently from years of practice sneaking around the various buildings you were housed in you find John asleep on the couch. He is passed out with only a pair of boxers on, bite marks littering his skin. The faintest smell of slick clings to him, you would have missed it at this distance if your nose weren’t so strong. Biting your tongue you force back the cries of your beta to join them in the nest upstairs. You were not invited.

A small fire burns in the stove, lifting the temperature of the room. A stack of pancakes sits on the counter covered with plastic cling. Glancing up the stairs you can hear small noises and grunts that would send you into a spiral if you listened for too long.

Making a decision you drift into the kitchen. Eating the pancakes dry is a choice. The number of times you have to pause chewing to release the bolus from the roof of your mouth? Annoying, but these were free pancakes. When your stomach begins to groan, a ship sinking too heavy under a load, you pause. A pancake and a half are left. Covering them back up with the cling warp you look around the kitchen. A bowl, several measuring cups, a pan, and a used plate and fork are all tossed in the sink.

This you could handle. One of your main duties for a long time had been cleaning dishes after meals. Finding the soap and a clean towel you set to work. Humming a song you had learned before going to Scorpio the sink is cleared and cleaned in no time.

John is still asleep on the couch when you finish. The fire is starting to burn down. The wood stacked near the stove tells you that the flames can be fed. Studying the black surface doesn’t give you any clue how you are supposed to add it without burning yourself. Waiting had become the option. Glancing around the couch you found a blanket laid neatly over the back of the couch tucked under John’s body. The idea of getting close enough to be touched sent shivers rolling down your back. Freezing it was then.

A flutter of movement at the back door drew you to the pocket of cold air lifting off the glass. Two crows, you think they are crows as you could never remember how to tell crows and ravens apart, are playing on the back porch. Calling it play seemed best. They both would pick up a small stick before waving it about, dropping it, and hopping about.

You must shift, or move in some way because they fly away in a flurry of caws. Their departure hits you in the chest. Birds had been something you missed the most. Outside time at Scorpio had been strictly regulated and no trees were ever allowed to grow tall or full enough to be welcoming for a family of birds or squirrels. Wishing had been your one way out; you always wished you had been born with wings. Pressing your fingertips to the glass you ignore the chill of the heat being stolen.

Stolen. That word rings through your brain, a dirge of a funeral march. Something changes, like the clang of the mausoleum gates slamming shut and a jubilee begins. You can go outside. No one is here to stop you. John is dead to the world and the others are busy. Nearly dancing on light toes you retrieve your outside wear from where you had stored it in your dresser yesterday.

Boots on you are reaching for your coat when you remember the shawl from Johnny, tucked between the mattress and the bed frame. He had tried to make you laugh yesterday. Telling you stories of his sister’s antics when they were kids or lining up jokes he would knock down like bowling pins the most he got from you had been a smile you couldn’t stop. The man looked like you had gifted him his wildest dreams when he caught sight of it. Another one hadn’t slipped out after that.

He was too damn nice to you. Nice only led to pain. Gods, you wanted this to be different than Scorpio. No one there who had any power had given you a gift though. That’s what he called it, a gift.

“Noticed you admiring it in the store lass. Figured if you ended up with us your life before must have been shite and a splash of color would bring a light to your eyes.” He had explained after dropping it over your shoulders and standing in the bite of the wind to look at the stars.

Staring at him for a few breaths as he grinned at you had been a surreal experience. Any care you had received in the last decade had been stolen in passing or shared under the watchful eye of staff. The open, blatant, outright loud acknowledgment hung from your shoulders in the dark. He had turned to the stars after you clutched the gift in your hand, worried he might take the soft shawl back.

The two of you finally worked your way back inside when you couldn’t feel the fingers anymore. Johnny had parted with a soft goodnight and disappeared up the stairs in the dim light that illuminated from the stove. The click of the door shutting upstairs had broken the spell over you. The lock thrown and the gift was tucked under the bed to keep it safe from a cursory glance.

Making a decision you pull it cautiously from below the mattress curling it around your body before hiding it below your coat. Sneaking out of your room once more you find yourself in the kitchen. Taking the plate you leave the cling wrap in a ball on the counter. No alarm rings when you slide open the back door, the crunch of the snow beneath your boots the only sound that breaks the perfect silence.

Tucked in the corner under a tarp you see what looks like a stack of chairs. Glancing from the could-be chairs to the corner railing where you had seen the crows playing. Making a decision, you tear off two small-ish chunks of pancake and clear the snow from a portion of the wide railing top. Setting your offerings down you set about freeing a chair for yourself.

Waiting had been a skill you cultivated at Scorpio. You could leave your body behind and fly with wings longer than the cabin you stayed in. Sat as far from the railing as you could be time slips by as you wait for the possibility of them returning. A sound draws you from your internal world. Focusing your eyes on the sound without moving your body you find them. Swallowing down your offering the crows eye you.

Moving with exaggerated slowness you tear off two more morsels and toss them to the crows. The aim is off and they land in the snow on the floor of the porch. Beyond returning your hand to your lap you practice stillness. They take the offering. This continues, you tossing pancakes across the distance and them accepting. One of them offers a loud caw which causes you to jump. Both birds take flight at your sudden movement.

Cursing under your breath at your carelessness you stand. Taking the plate in hand you turn and scream, the plate flying out of your hands and into the deep drifts of snow next to the porch. John is watching you through the back door, blanket cocooned around his body. Two fingers wiggle from between the folds, motioning you in.

He steps back after opening the sliding door for you. He waits until you have stomped the snow off your boots on the rug set up for that purpose to ask you anything.

“Did that help?”

Pausing, a hand on the wall as you step on the back of one boot you send him a look.

He points with his chin toward the little crow prints in the snow.

“The birds. Did they help?”

Help? Help what? You feel less like you were dying? Help this place feel less like a prison and more like a hospice?

You study his face, attempting to parse out what question he asked below the one he spoke. In time you would see the him that harmed. It happened with every member of staff at Scorpio. Never trust their smiles, always trust their eyes had been the mantra, creed passed to each new beta. John’s eyes held only neutral curiosity. Nodding once, you focused on removing your boots.

“I’ll get you bird food for them the next time we are in town,” John nodded once and wandered away to the bathroom most likely from where he headed.

Setting your coat on a hook next to the door you trailed him with your eyes. You wondered once again what Kate had been thinking when she dropped you off here.

Before you could decide on her motives Johnny appeared at the top of the stairs. With a pair of sweats and a pullover hoodie, he had much more clothes on than the last man to leave that room. His hand gripped the railing tight as he gingerly worked his body down each step. Simon must be a rough lover through his ruts. Shuddering with memories veiled under the cast of drugs you didn’t notice Johnny getting closer until the smell of sex washed through your nose.

“You’re wearing it,” he sighed as if you had lifted a burden from him by doing so.

Folding your arms across it you glare at him.

“It was a gift,” you reply tersely.

A hand is lifted, finger crooked as if to brush down your arm. Johnny pulls back before touching you. Mixed feelings rise. You would have bit him if he tried to touch you but a part of you screamed to the point of vomiting when he didn’t connect.

A gentle smile breaks over his face, dawn over the desert, as his gaze finds yours.

“It is a gift. I’m glad you like it.”

Your stomach flipped over in its limited space in your body. Squeezing yourself tight you fight down the beta urge to lick him, to suck the scent of sex from his gland and into yourself.

Movement from behind him has you glancing at John who had returned settled a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and a kiss to his temple.

“Leave her be, we need to get food ready for lunch. Can you show her how to load the stove? The latch is being tricky again.”

Johnny leaned into the touch, clearly comforted by the contact. His eyes drifted lazily along the wall as he listened.

It didn’t make any sense to you. John and Johnny were both omegas, their scents confirmed it again and again, but they never acted like any of the omegas you had dealt with. Acting as equals often, even to their alpha counterparts, it confused you why they all allowed John to lead them. They broke every rule that had been beaten into you.

Nodding, Johnny turned and dropped a kiss on John’s lips before heading to the stove. John shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and cupboards and pulling out various items.

“Hey Sprinkles, come on over. The stove needs fed.”

Looking around the room you try and figure out who Johnny might be talking to. When you lift a brow at him he grins, wide and mischievous.

“Yes, you. The shawl makes you look like a bowl of rainbow sprinkles. Now come on, let’s get this done and then you can tell me what you enjoy doing so we can find you something to fill your day with.”

Joining Johnny at the stove you learn how to open, feed, clean, and start a fire to warm the house up. The explanations he gave were clear and concise. You fed a few pieces in, confidence growing with each word of praise from his lips.

When the door is closed and the living spaces much warmer you follow Johnny into the kitchen. A pot with a lid not sitting fully on simmered away and a bowl with a towel sat in the corner. On the main part of the counter, a large platter of meats, cheeses, nuts, fruits, and vegetables drew in the eye.

John shoveled food into his mouth before disappearing with a nod. Kyle appeared next, smelling of sex too. He ate with the same ravenous hunger Johnny and John showed. You picked at your food, slipping pieces of cheese and cured meats into your pockets to hide for later.

After both men had gorged themselves on a meal they showed you where the TV and their collections of shows and movies lived. The newest one you recognized had been from nine years ago. Ads had been playing for it before you ended up with Scorpio. Excusing yourself to the bathroom you detour to place your extras in your pillow. After the men go to sleep tonight you would find a safer way of storing the food.

Curling into the corner of the couch to watch a show that looked interesting the men gave you a cushion as space as they twined around one another. Sometime later John replaced Johnny on the couch and you drifted in a half-awake state ignoring the throbbing need between your legs that spiked with each heady draft that reached your nose when the men took their shifts with Simon.

This routine went on for two days. They were such long days.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

@lucienofthelakes @gg-trini @talia-the-gemini @thriving-n-jiving @z-wantstowrite @asialovesyou09 @literallegendicon @canthavetoomuchchaos @reinekoya @jsptmoche @demothers-empty-blog @hbaasaad @sun-daddy-yoriichi @wiciclesatmidnight @kaoyamamegami @little-mini-me-world @corvid007 @skeletonsucker @feyresqueen

[kmgkmg]

BOYS FROM MARS - CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

word count: 2.9k…

pairing: seungcheol x gn!reader

synopsis: you've sworn off men for the month of february, but you also might've fallen for the local cafe's baker two weeks into the month.

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, baker!seungcheol, ceramicist!seungcheol, strangers-to-lovers

warnings: does include mentions of wonwoo and dino together, but nothing happens.

rating: pg

a/n: dedicated to my favorite scoups stan @jasminecha <3 also a submission for k-vanity's love in the mix event! the full playlist can be listened to here. songs that inspired this fic the most include:

saturn by sza // universe by thủy // lucky by raveena // sunny days by wave to earth // never tell by luke chiang

“I swear,” you sigh to your friends, “life’s got to be better on Saturn.”

Between the messy situationships you got trapped in and the endless amount of male celebrities that got involved in scandals, you realized one thing. Well, you knew it a long time ago, it’s just been re-emphasized as of late. Men aren’t shit! 

Valentine’s Day weekend came and went, with you successfully continuing your man-detox.

Your form of treating yourself on the Sunday after was grabbing boba with your friends. Jasmine tea with herbal jelly always healed you, and after the crappy week you had you were ready to recharge. Some sweet treats to go along with the drinks were an obvious choice as well, including the cafe’s famous egg tarts.

“Boys are from Mars, blah blah. You say all that but haven’t you been looking towards the kitchen since we sat down…” your friend Yeri observed, causing you to snap your head in her direction. 

“Okay, but he is uncharacteristically hot for our town, right?” You frown, looking back at the man who hadn’t yet noticed your burning gaze.

A cafe recently opened downtown and you wanted to check it out ever since their TikToks worked their way into your algorithm. Who could turn down cronuts (croissant donuts) with fillings sounding as yummy as ube pandan, black sesame oreo, and dark chocolate rose? You ordered roughly fifteen minutes ago, but knew you were going to have to wait due to the amount of people in the store. What you didn’t expect was for the baker to be so attractive. Sure, the baristas and other staff are also very attractive, but something about the baker and his arms being so muscular made you lose focus. Not only that, he somehow managed to be so attuned to his work that he was oblivious to the amount of people drawn to him. He has to be from out of town, you think to yourself.

You finally shifted your gaze from the poor man just doing his job as he kneaded more dough, turning back to your friends. Your childhood friend, Wonwoo, was still stuck on the barista who greeted y’all. Yeri scuffed at the two of you, unable to believe her friends’ lack of self control.

“Some detoxes aren’t meant to be completed.” Wonwoo shrugs, getting up from his seat after hearing his name called by the barista who took your names earlier, Chan. He seemed similar to your ages, definitely the youngest of the people working at the cafe. He was definitely the type Wonwoo went for. Wonwoo flashed a bright smile, shifting his weight to lean closer to Chan. As he handed his phone to him, your friend and you rolled your eyes at his predictability. And then there were two…

The three of you had sworn off men for the entire month, a feat that would usually be completely achievable. Yet, after finishing your boba you were wavering ever so slightly. The mystery man continues his work, now sporting some flour on his face. Certainly that was an accident, but it only made him look hotter than before. After another five minutes Wonwoo’s and Yeri’s cronuts came out and you stared at your plate where only crumbs remained. Ordering another dessert to share isn’t the worst idea, you nod to yourself, eyes glued to the giant fruit tart in the display case. You ask your friends if they’d be down to share and they agree instantly. Almost too eager. You push your chair from the table, heading towards the counter to order. You turn back to Wonwoo and Yeri, wanting to confirm the order but see them giving you thumbs up and winking. Your face twists into confusion, before turning back as the hot baker walks to the cash register to take your order. You need to get out of this cafe.

Avoiding the cafe proved to be much harder than anticipated. The night you first visited you brought home some egg tarts, happy to share with your loved ones. Little did you expect that your entire household would fall in love with the tarts as well. You became the assigned tart buyer, stopping by the cafe to grab a four-pack nearly every day. A four-pack only cost $6, something that was unheard of in this economy. Besides the inexpensive tarts, frequenting the cafe so much did have its perks. One, for example, was that you were fast in filling up the punch card and now were two visits from a free drink. Another, coincidentally, was interacting more with the cafe’s baker, whose name you learned is Seungcheol. 

“Did you see we’re supposed to get more snow next weekend?” He attempts to make small talk, grabbing the tarts for you and packing them away. 

You hum a ‘mhm’ before reaching into your bag for your wallet. You were attempting to distance yourself from him, to let a crush die out as a crush, but he made it more difficult each time with his efforts in small talk. Why did his voice have to be so nice to hear?

“You’re good, Y/N, it’s on the house.” The familiar angelic voice interrupts your thoughts.  

You felt your face heat up as you heard him say your name. You shake your hands fervently, “No, it’s okay I can pay.” 

“I know you can, but at this point I think you’re the number one customer for these tarts. Are they that good?”

Your brows furrow at his question, “Are you kidding me? They’re so delicious, I mean the custard filling itself is not too sweet but still has a hint of vanilla in it and I taste the smallest amount of… almond?”

“Yes! That’s my secret, it’s like a few drops to each batter, but I didn’t know others could taste the difference as well.”

“It definitely makes a difference! Not to mention the crust is absolute perfection, it’s sturdy enough to last multiple bites but still soft to bite down on…” You trail off, becoming self-conscious of your food ramblings. 

Seungcheol doesn’t notice your inner turmoil, but his eyes light up at your words. “You’re so much better than Chan or Mingyu when it comes to expressing your thoughts on the food! I will spend hours working on a new recipe for them to take one bite and say, ‘it’s tasty, Cheol’. It drives me insane!” 

You nod, surprised by his extroverted personality. Unable to match the energy on this Wednesday morning, you do your best and manage to give him a faint smile before grabbing the bag that sat on the counter. 

“Well, thank you for the free tarts, Cheol.” You hold up the bag, before leaving the shop. 

“Anytime!” 

As the bells at the top corner of the door rang out, Seungcheol watched your figure walk away from the cafe. He let out the breath he had been holding, placing his hand on the countertop. With his free hand, he grabs his half full cup of coffee, taking sips to cool down. Anytime? Wait did you just say Cheol?

“He’s single, you know?” Chan raised his eyebrows your way, as he whispered Seungcheol’s dating status for the table to hear. Chan’s shift ended thirty minutes ago and he and Wonwoo were already extremely cozy and used to each other’s presence. Wonwoo would not stop blowing up the group chat to give every update to their relationship as the days went on from the fateful first day y’all visited the cafe. 

“It’s still February, you know?” You retort, eyes still glued to the baker. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yeri dismisses you. 

She knew it was only a matter of time for the two of you to get together. Chan made a separate group chat excluding you to devise a plan to get the two of you together. He revealed Seungcheol would check the door each time a customer came in, then look dejected each time it wasn’t you. Not to mention, he usually only worked one or two days of the week, but his hours increased in hopes of seeing you again. Long story short: neither of you were making the first move and it was driving everyone insane. 

A familiar melody played through the cafe’s speaker’s, causing your ears to perk up. wave to earth? Your favorite band, the band whose concert is ingrained in your bones, wave to earth? Taking a picture of your uneaten egg tart, you vowed to upload a story with wave to earth as the background music when you got home. You continued the conversation with your friends, reducing the glances Seungcheol’s way to a minimum of once every five minutes. 

Around two hours passed, most customers cleared out leaving just your table and Seungcheol in the cafe. Your friends convinced you to talk to him once again. Before you could say anything, Seungcheol began the conversation. 

“Sorry. I, uh, noticed how excited you were when wave to earth’s music came on. The playlist that was playing all night was mine and I loved seeing your reactions to the music. I’m careful in asking this, but would you want to grab a meal sometime? You know, outside of this cafe and all.”

Your eyes softened as your body slowly let go of the tension you were unaware that you had. 

“I really enjoy running into you, Seungcheol. But, I am doing this ‘man detox’ where I’m trying not to be with anyone in February. I fall for people too easily and hopefully things will change.” You confess, grabbing your straw’s wrapper and throwing it in the waste bin on his left.

You wished he would go over this moment quickly, not wanting to fight his temptation and your true feelings for much longer. Sipping on your drink, you try your best to act nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I don’t think you can fall for people too easily, it just means you love people sincerely. And that’s not anything that needs to be fixed.” He counters, jogging back behind the counter at the sound of the oven’s timer. 

You see Wonwoo, Chan, and Yeri walk out of the cafe, content with you finally having a long conversation with Seungcheol. Before you could reply, he continued speaking. 

“The bit about swearing men off for a whole month I understand. Lucky for me tomorrow’s the first day of March though.” He slyly informs, not breaking eye contact as he puts the hot pastries on the cooling rack.

You scrambled to find your phone buried in the bottom of your bag. Once you finally fished it out, you checked and double-checked the date…February 28th. Why are the days going by quicker and quicker?

“I didn’t mean to make you so flustered when I thought about asking you out, we can pretend this never happen-”

“No!” You surprise the two of you from your increased volume. 

Seungcheol chuckles before grabbing the ingredients to make frosting for tomorrow’s desserts. “Good, then how does next weekend work? I have a workshop to attend so I won’t be at the cafe for this next week. If you think it over and decide you don’t want to go, no worries. We can go back to a regular customer and baker relationship. If you do want to go out with me, here’s my number.” He explains, wiping his hands on his apron before grabbing a pen and writing his number on a blank punch card. 

“O-Okay, let me think about it,” you muster out. Tucking the card with Cheol’s number written on it in your pocket, you left the cafe. Confused was an understatement. 

You returned home and placed the tarts on the kitchen table before heading to your room. As you got ready for bed, you grabbed the punch card from your coat pocket. As if your hands had a mind of their own, his number was added to your contacts before you had time to think. Throwing yourself on your bed as you looked at his contact, you couldn’t help but feel giddy for next weekend. Tomorrow was the start of March after all. 

“So, you don’t just work at the cafe then.” You look around in amazement at the ceramic studio you were standing in, unable to imagine him as anything else than a baker. Now his muscular arms were making more sense.

“No, not at all. I only help out there since Mingyu is on vacation visiting his family. Oh, Mingyu is the shop owner by the way. But, if you look under any of the plates at the cafe, they have my initials on them.”

“Wait, so why are you such a good baker?”

“Lots of part-time jobs to support my family. You pick up a few things here and there.” He explains, grabbing a collection of ceramics for you to choose from.

Seungcheol treated you to lunch and the conversation flowed like the two of you knew each other for years. The date was going well, suspiciously well. But you tried to withhold your default thinking, wanting to believe in whatever connection the two of you had. 

“Would you like to try to make anything? A flower vase? A plate? A mug? It will take a while to get back to you since I share my kiln with another studio member, but I can expedite it.” He informs you, showing the different models of ceramics you could make. 

You look at your options, unable to decide as they all looked cute. 

After thinking for a while, you break the silence, “I do love flowers…” You decidedly point at the vase. 

“Flower vase it is.” He nods, sitting down and throwing clay onto the wheel before shifting and letting you take over. 

You could’ve sworn there was some reluctance in his movements. But once you looked back up at him, he moved his hands over yours to help you mold the vase into the shape you wanted. 

The two of you spent over an hour in the studio. Seungcheol was a good teacher, not getting frustrated at your mistakes, even though you knew he could sense your embarrassment. He’s kind. Realizing the sun was setting, he did the finishing touches on the vase, before running into a back room, telling you he had something to give you. 

As he left you alone for the moment, you looked outside to notice small white flakes falling from the sky. After admiring the view for a moment, his footsteps enter the room again, now he appeared with both of his hands behind his back. 

“Choose a hand.” 

You gesture to his left, to which he reveals a white rose. Seungcheol holds it out to you and you promptly wrap your fingers around the stem. 

You tilt your head trying to see what else he was hiding, “What about the other hand?”

He holds out another white rose, before looking outside and also noticing the snow. “Shoot,” he murmured under his breath before grabbing his messenger bag from the worktable. 

“It should be okay, the snow doesn’t look too heavy just yet,” You comfort him. Your eyes stay fixated on the flowers you’re holding, gently bringing them up to your face to smell them.

His voice calls for your attention, “Y/N.” 

As you look up to him, you feel shy once again as he puts the scarf around your neck. Instantly, you feel warm. Although, you are unsure if it was due to the scarf or the actions of the man in front of you. 

“It’s getting late, may I walk you home?” He asks, already putting his coat on and preparing for the cold. 

You look at him with surprise, not used to men with actual manners. You put your coat on as well, walking through the studio’s doors as he held it open. 

“That’s really sweet of you. If you do that though, I will never hear the end of it. Suddenly you’ll become my boyfriend and we’ll need to start planning our wedding out-”

“Our wedding, huh?” He smirks, holding his arm out for you to lean on as the sidewalk the two of you walked on became covered in ice. 

“I did not mean to say that part out loud.” You purse your lips together, mentally hitting yourself for unnecessarily rambling. 

“Let me at least walk you to the traffic lights then.”

“Deal.” 

The lights came far too quick, and you found yourself disappointed by the lack of distance between your house and the intersection. There were barely any cars outside. Everyone must be at home preparing for the weather, you thought to yourself. Soon enough, the two of you reached your agreed destination. Yet, you found it hard to let go of his arm. 

“Are you sure I can’t walk you home?” He softly offers again. 

“It’s truly okay! My house is not even a ten minute walk from here.”

He squints his eyes, slightly skeptical. “Then text me when you get home safe, okay?”

“Okay, I can do that! Thank you for everything today Cheol, I had an amazing time.” 

“Me too, Y/N.” 

The crosswalk light turns white, indicating you could walk. You wave goodbye, crossing before realizing you were still wearing his scarf. He was still watching you from the other side as the light began to flicker. 

“What should I do with your scarf?” You cup your hands around your mouth to project your voice. 

He grins big before mirroring you, “Just give it to me on our next date!”

[sungbites]

RAVE SWEETHEARTS ━ park jisung

pairing : jisung x fem!reader. genre : fluff, very cliche, rave au ?? warnings : drinking/getting drunk, awkward ji, two idiots obsessed w eo synopsis : usually you would be aggravated about someone spilling their drink on you but you couldn't possibly be mad at him. wc : 3k a/n : EEEK im acc excited to post this bc this randomly came to me from a rave fitspo tiktok so i hope u guys enjoy ^^ as always likes n reblogs are appreciated :))

jisung was so uncomfortable. he was uncomfortable with his outfit, he was uncomfortable with the large crowd of people, and he was uncomfortable by the loud dj set that was currently playing. 

“oh loosen up” chenle glanced his way, rolling his eyes. “dude it’s so hot” jisung complained, the sun shining directly on his shoulders make him even more uneasy. “you’re barely wearing anything, c'mon let’s get some drinks in you and maybe you’ll feel better” chenle grabbed his arm, pulling him in the direction of the overpriced bar. jisung groaned but reluctantly followed him. 

he didn’t even want to be here, but since chenle bought two tickets for him and mark, who just couldn’t go anymore, jisung was the replacement. at first the idea of going to a rave in the height of california heat didn’t seem all that bad until the weekend got closer and he started regretting agreeing to the idea. when chenle showed him the outfit he picked out for him, the feeling of regret started growing. 

they reached the bar, jisung stood close to the fan they had set up to cool himself down. “two vodka sprites please” chenle told the bartender, handing his credit card. “you couldn’t just get me water?” jisung side eyed him and chenle only laughed. “a little vodka never hurt anyone” chenle replied back, not realizing how unironically wrong that sounded given the situation. the bartender handed chenle the drinks and he turned to jisung, handing him the drink. jisung gave him a look and chenle held out the drink further towards him. 

the two of them began walking back to the crowd, the terrible dj set was now over so it wasn’t as loud or overstimulating. “i promise when you let yourself go it’ll be a lot more fun” and jisung rolled his eyes, “yeah sure” he muttered, following chenle through the crowd. they stood not too far from the stage but not too close either, it was feeling a bit better. “i wouldn’t have invited you if i didn’t know you needed the break, just let go man” chenle said once more, the words finally getting through jisungs big head. “yeah you’re right” jisung said, making chenle smile. “see! i told you” he shouted over the set that just began, making jisung laugh. maybe this weekend will be fun. 

jisung clearly spoke too soon because five minutes into the set, someone bumped into chenle which caused him to bump into jisung and resulted in him losing grip of his drink, dropping it all over the stranger that stood beside him. “i am so-“ the words couldn’t leave jisungs mouth when he turned to see you. “i..” he mumbled, watching as you wiped the remnants of the drink off your clothes. your hair fell so nicely on your shoulders, and your outfit complimented your aura so well. to put it simply, you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. he was sure of it. 

you wiped down the drink from your shirt and looked up at him, smiling softly. “i mean atleast your drink was cold!” you said, your voice was even sweeter than how you looked. he didn’t know what he was more attracted to, you or the way you brushed it off so easily. either way it drew him closer to you. jisung wanted to say something but the words were stuck in his throat, out of fear or maybe anxiety. it didn’t matter because you smiled at him one last time before turning to talk to your friend. 

by then, chenle had already turned away from the person who bumped into him and tapped jisungs shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. he turned to look at chenle, ears red and face slightly flushed but the only thing chenle noticed was the empty cup on the ground next to jisungs feet. “oh come on! that drink was like 15 bucks jisung!” chenle groaned, breaking jisung out of his thoughts. “yeah.. sorry”’ he finally said, beating himself up internally because the words wouldn’t come out when he wanted to talk to you. 

chenle handed him his drink, “here just finish mine,” jisung took the cup and downed it, either trying to ease his nerves or cool himself off. chenle looked at him and grinned, “finally you’re not uptight anymore” he laughed, making jisung look at him with a small smile “shut up” he muttered, focusing back on the dj set and being hyper aware that you were next to him, dancing with your friend. 

he glanced out the corner of his eye to see that you and your friend were in fact gone, probably left some time around while he was talking to chenle. you walked behind ningning, following her through the crowd to a stand to grab some napkins. “ning it’s fine” you groaned, watching her wipe away the remainder of the drink from your skin. “still! it must be uncomfortable i mean that guy wasn’t even paying attention” she replied, wetting the napkin with her water bottle to wipe away any stickiness. 

you thought back to his flustered expression and the way his cheeks were flushed. you smiled softly, he was a cutie. you didn’t think you’d bump into a cute guy here but here you were, thinking about a cute guy. if only you knew his name it would make actually talking to him easier. “oh please don’t tell me you’re thinking about him yn” she said, throwing away the napkin and turning back to you. “i mean.. he was easy on the eyes ning,” you said, smiling softly, making ningning laugh aloud.

“what if he’s one of those rave fuck boys then what?” the two of you started walking back towards the crowd, the music starting to get louder as you got closer. “doubt it, he looked so nervous” you smiled, thinking back on his expression. “you’re doing it again!” ningning said, lightly punching your arm, making you laugh. “whatever it's not like i’m gonna magically see him again” you sighed out, joining the crowd once more. “yeah but who knows, maybe he’ll find his way to you without spilling a drink” she smiled, making you smile as well, maybe she was right. 

jisung was exhausted, around 3 dj sets had passed and they were currently on the last one for the night. finally, jisung thought. next to him, chenle danced with some girl who kept flirting with him, making jisung laugh to himself. he scanned the crowd, ever since you left out of nowhere he was ashamed to admit it but he tried looking for you for a bit. even if it was taking quick glances he was never successful, that is until now. he saw you not too far ahead of where he and chenle stood so he did the most rational thing, make his way over to you. 

after a little bit of shoving and squeezing through sweaty bodies, jisung was a little bit closer to you, approximately one person apart. just before he was going to get closer, someone bumped into you, causing you to tumble back but jisung reached over grabbing your arm. the person between the two of you was now gone so it was only the two of you in this huge crowd. “hi..” jisung said, making you smile. he let go of your arm and stood up straighter, “hi” you said, smiling up at him. 

“jisung, i’m sorry about.. you know. spilling my drink on you” he held his hand out for you to shake and you shook it, smiling. “yn, and it’s fine really” you let go of his hand, wiping away your sweaty palm on your shorts. “so do you talk to every girl you spill drinks on?” you looked to him, making his ears turn a shade of pink. “only the pretty ones” he said, now it was your turn to blush. 

“i’m pretty?” you teased, still smiling. you were smiling so much that your cheeks started to hurt. “i mean.. yeah. you’re more than just pretty but it’s too embarrassing to say here” he admitted shyly, not being able to hold eye contact with you. you smiled as his eyes looked at the speakers or the dj instead of you. “you’re pretty too” you said, making him giggle and ears turn pink once more. 

the two of you stood there, moving along to the music and enjoying each others company. jisung glanced at you a couple times, smiling. you caught him, looking his way and he quickly looked away, in embarrassment or fear. what a cutie. “so do you usually go to raves” you tilted your head, jisung shaking his head in response. “my friend had an extra ticket and the person he invited wasn’t going, so.. here i am” he smiled looking at how you nodded, taking in his worlds. so he wasn’t a rave fuckboy, perfect, you thought to yourself. 

“what about you?” he looked to you, smiling. he swore his cheeks would be more sore than his legs when he wakes up tomorrow. “this is my 2nd rave, but my friend also sort of forced me to tag along” you replied, smiling as you remembered how ningning tried to bait you into going with her. “so we’re in the same boat then” jisung muttered, laughing softly. you smiled and laughed along with him. “i guess so” 

if the people around you two were listening to the conversation, they would think that you and jisung had zero interest in one another. the truth was far from that, you two were so interested in one another that you were both equally nervous to talk to each other. being so close to each other made it even more intimidating for one another. your hands brushed together, fingers so close to interlocking but jisung pulled his hand away in fear, his cheeks as red as a rose in bloom. 

“so-” “so-“ both of you said in unison, looking at each other then giggling. “go first” jisung said, his smile only growing. “uh are you doing anything after?” you looked up and tilted your head slightly, jisung thought it was cute when you did that. considering you did it twice it had to be a habit for you. “aside from heading back to the hotel, nothing at all” he replied, making you nod. “same with us, we’re staying in a hotel as well” he smiled at this, must mean you live somewhere close to wear he lives. 

“so where are-“ in the midst of jisungs question your phone started ringing, you pulled it out to see ningning contact card. you looked up at jisung and he shook his head, “please take the call don’t worry about me i’ll just. um be standing here” he said, a little awkwardly making you gush. you answered the call and put it to your ear. 

“what?” you said, jisung glancing your way. you look a little frustrated but anxious as well. you glanced around the crowd, spotting what seems to be your friend. jisung really only thought this because she kept waving at you. you hung up the phone and turned back to him. “i really have to get going.. are you gonna be here tomorrow?” you said, jisung nodding. “yeah we’re here till sunday.. so i guess ill see you tomorrow?” 

the two of you looked at each other and jisung quickly fished his pocket for his phone, fumbling while opening it to the phone app. “let’s trade numbers, you know so it’s easier to find each other” he said with a light tremble in his voice, you smiled and the two of you traded phones, typing in your phone numbers. “i saved my contact, you know in case you forget” you said, handing his phone back and he only smiled. “i couldn’t forget” he mumbled, making you blush for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow then?” you said, looking up at him and jisung nodded. “see you tomorrow” jisung smiled back, waving as you ran off to meet with your friend. now if he could just grow a pair and text you tonight it could play out perfectly for him. 

after having to drag a very wasted chenle to the uber and to the hotel, jisung washed up, getting out of the bathroom to see chenle sprawled on the bed, clearly not following the rule they set to stay on one side of the bed. he sighed, drying his hair with the towel and sitting on his side of the bed, or what was left of it. 

he looked down at his phone and his thoughts only drifted to you, you would’ve texted him by now if you wanted to talk to him. what if you dropped your phone in the bathtub? or worse someone stole it. maybe you were asleep? whatever it was jisung was overthinking and his head was starting to hurt because of it. 

he laid down in bed, the only things that were heard in the room was chenles soft snores and the hum of the ac. once again, his mind just kept drifting to you. maybe he was too pushy? maybe you didn’t want to give your number to someone and he forced you to so that’s why you weren’t texting him yet. jisung looked at his phone and groaned once more, feeling fed up with all the thoughts in his head. 

he unlocked his phone and went to his messages, starting a new chat with his contact. his thumbs played over the keyboard, trying to figure out what to say. after five minutes of typing and retyping his text, he finally sent it, immediately flipping over his phone and turning to the other side so he wasn’t tempted to look. 

jisung [11:37 pm]: hi :) 

your phone buzzed in your hand and you looked up to see the text notification, immediately sitting up. “what?” ningning mumbled next to you and peered over, also immediately sitting up. “oh my god you got his number you sly girl!” ningning teased, slapping your arm playfully. you turned to her with your shocked expression and her smile dropped, slightly confused. 

“what do i do?! i don’t even know what to say and i didnt think he would text me i mean i was hoping he would but i didn’t think he would you know!” you rambled, ningning trying to keep up. “okay calm down uhm.. just say hi back! what could go wrong” she smiled and you nodded, faking a smile. ningning was wrong everything could go wrong 

what if he thought you were desperate for replying so quick, or maybe he was asleep and he wouldn’t see until the morning so it would just be weird. you stared back at the text, now overly anxious. usually you had no issue texting people but this was different, he was a guy but not just a guy he was a guy you wanted. 

jisung was a cutie and you can admit that you were attracted to him so it meant something that he texted you first. you sighed, trying to push your nerves down and opened the text to begin texting him. your thumbs did a little dance over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. 

jisung picked up his phone again, the screen still open to the conversation and his eyes widened when he saw your typing bubbles. he waited very impatiently as the bubbles appeared and disappeared, finally uncovering the message you were typing. 

yn [11:42 pm]: hi :) what’s up jisung [11:42 pm]: nothing just wanted to see what u were doing :D yn [11:43 pm]: ohh, i just got in bed lol. wbu?? jisung [11:43 pm]: i’m in bed too hahah  jisung [11:43 pm]: there’s a full moon tn, not sure if u saw  jisung [11:44 pm]: it’s pretty  jisung [11:44 pm]: you know if ur interested in that stuff :)  jisung [11:44 pm]: cool if ur not yk 

you read the incoming texts jisung was sending and smiled, holing back a giggle since ningning was now fast asleep. you shifted in bed and got up to open the curtain, looking at the full moon up in the sky. he was right, it was really pretty. you smiled down at your phone and typed away. 

yn [11:46 pm]: it is really pretty, thanks for telling me :)) 

jisung smiled down at your message, shifting his position in bed so now his back was facing chenle. he smiled as he typed his message to you, feeling his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. 

jisung [11:46 pm]: yeah ofc, so are u gonna head to bed?  yn [11:47 pm]: most likely, im exhausted :/  jisung [11:48 pm]: lol me too, my legs hurt  yn [11:49 pm]: see u in the morning :) ??

jisung read this text over and over, smiling even bigger the more he read it. he felt like such a high schooler during this whole thing because he was fighting the urge to giggle and hug his pillow like a schoolgirl. 

jisung [11:50 pm]: yeah totally, see u in the morning yn :) yn [11:51 pm]: night night !!  jisung [11:51 pm]: night night <3 

the second jisung sent that text he immediately regretted it, seeing the heart on his screen. he groaned, flipping his phone over and holding his head in his hands. he was so dumb, you were probably so weirded out now. 

you smiled reading his text, giggling to yourself. your cheeks started to feel hot as you laid back down in bed, the text still echoing in your head. you picked up your phone from the nightstand and typed away, hitting send on the text you were typing. then flipping your phone over so you could head to bed. 

yn [11:52 pm]: <33 

jisung read the text and smiled bigger than he ever had, almost squealing. he liked the message and set his phone down, a smile still big on his face. he turned over to face the nightstand, getting ready to head to bed, his mind still plagued with you. for once, he was glad chenle forced him out to do something. 

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