#and some people want it shoved in their face (ME!)

[carnalcrows]

BAD TIMING - GYEONGSU

pairing: han gyeong-su x top male reader

synopsis: The real infection here is horniness

content warnings: 18+, semi-public sex, anal, zombies, breeding, creampie, nayeon being a bitch, slight overstimulations, spit as lube.

word count: 1.1k

Nayeon was running her mouth again, voice shrill enough to probably attract zombies instead of keeping them away.

"He’s bitten! I saw it! We have to throw him out before he turns!" she screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at Gyeongsu, who was looking one second away from committing a crime.

"For the last time, I am not bitten, you absolute lunatic!" Gyeongsu snapped. "It was a scratch. A SCRATCH.”

You, ever the voice of reason (and also, let’s be honest, just wanting an excuse to be alone with him), stepped forward. "Okay, okay, let’s settle this like civilized people," you said, patting Gyeongsu on the shoulder. "I’ll go with him to the recording room and keep watch. If he turns, I’ll scream."

"And we definitely trust your judgment." Nayeon scoffed.

"Like yours is any better," Cheongsan muttered under his breath.

But before anyone could object, you were already dragging Gyeongsu toward the soundproof recording room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“Man, she is so annoying,” you huffed, leaning against the wall.

Gyeongsu rolled his eyes, flopping onto one of the chairs. "Tell me about it. I’d rather get eaten by a zombie than listen to her for another second."

You made a thoughtful noise. "Well, since you’re not gonna turn, we have some time to kill."

Gyeongsu glanced at you, brow raised. "Yeah? And what do you suggest we do?"

A slow smirk crept onto your face. "Oh, I have some ideas."

The next five minutes were a blur of teeth, hands, and terrible decision-making.

It started with you yanking him forward by the collar, kissing him like the world was literally ending (which, to be fair, it was). It was all heat and desperation, his hands gripping the edge of the table as you practically devoured him.

"Didn’t think you’d—mmf—make a move now," Gyeongsu mumbled against your lips, breath hitching as you bit down on his lower lip.

"What, you wanted me to wait until after we’re zombie chow?" You pulled back just slightly, running your thumb over the wetness on his lips. "Nah. If I’m gonna die, I’m going out having fun."

He huffed a laugh, gripping your shirt and yanking you right back in. "Good. Now shut up."

It got sloppy real fast. Hands pulling, teeth clashing, breath hot and uneven. Gyeongsu let out a muffled noise when you practically shoved him against the table, his head tilting back slightly, giving you way too much access to his neck.

And God, the way he was looking at you—eyes half-lidded, lips swollen, breath uneven—yeah, you were definitely gonna die in this apocalypse

Your hands trailed to his pants, yanking them down. He yelped in surprise, to which you covered his mouth with your free hand.

“We’ve got to be quiet, you don’t the others to hear, hm?”

He shook his head, and you proceeded to pull his boxers down too, his dick springing out. 

“He’s more excited than I am, isn’t he?” You gestured to his erection, smirking. Gyeong-su turned away, flushed.

“Get on with it, will you? We haven’t got all day.”

You simply grinned and flipped him around, so that his back was facing you. You grabbed the firm flesh of his ass, fondling with it, wondering what to do. It struck you then that you didn’t have lube available.

His spit would have to do. 

You yanked on his hair (not too harshly), to crane his neck around to face you. Wordlessly, you poked two fingers at his mouth, pushing past his plump lips to the wet cavern of his tongue.

He swirled your digits around his tongue for a solid minute, before you pulled out and brought your fingers to his ass.

As you pushed one finger in, Gyeong-su had to cover his mouth– his eyes widened at the penetration. You really did want him to be loud, but neither of you could risk getting caught. Not now, and definitely not like this.

You held him steady at the table with your other hand, as you pushed a nother finger in, followed by one more. Three fingers were steadily pumping in and out of him, and god, he was seeing stars.

Deeming him prepped enough, you removed your fingers and pushed your own pants down, cock springing out.

You slowly pushed the tip in, hips already stuttering at the warmth of his hole. You leaned over him and held his hand, cooing in his ear as you eased your way into his heat.

When you bottomed out, you straightened your back and took your hands to his waist, holding him in a strong grip.

“I’m gonna move now, ‘kay?” He just whimpered, which you took as a green flag, and slowly started to rock in and out of him.

He was so tight, it was almost like his hole never wanted your cock to leave. If anything, that only turned you on even more.

Soon, your pace increased, the grip on Gyeong-su’s waist only getting more firm. The poor guy was shaking, hands trying to steady himself on the table but absolutely failing. At one particular thrust, he let a loud moan, quickly muffling it with his mouth.

So that was the spot.

You rammed into his hole– practically abusing his prostrate with every thrust. His eyes clenched together, his brain was feeling so, so empty.

Soon, you felt yourself on the verge of a release, your thrusts started to stutter. 

“Do you want it in or out?” You questioned, leaning down on him so that he could hear you better.

“In– please, oh fuck–f”

That was all you needed to hear,

With a low groan, you spilled into him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck– painting his insides a pearly white. He came soon after, dick spurting cum onto the desk, staining it.

Before you could pull out—there was a sudden bang from the other side of the glass.

Both of you froze.

Slowly, you turned your heads toward the window.

On the other side, standing in absolute, soul-crushing horror, were Cheongsan and Joon-young.

Cheongsan’s mouth hung open like he was trying to say something, but nothing was coming out. Joon-young? He looked like he was re-evaluating every life decision he had ever made.

You and Gyeongsu stared at them.

They stared back.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Then—

"I told you!" Nayeon’s voice rang out, triumphant. "They’re hiding something!"

Cheongsan slammed the door shut before she could step inside.

"N-Nope! Nothing to see here! We’re leaving!"

You barely had time to process what had just happened before Gyeongsu lost it, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he shook with laughter.

"Well," you sighed, ruffling a hand through your hair, "I guess we’re never living this down."

Gyeongsu looked up at you, grinning. "Worth it."

And, yeah. You had to agree.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot Part Two Preview!

Spoilers- don't read if you haven't read chapter one

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Warnings- Satoru being a lil shit, more of their past revealed, enemies to lovers type, some sexual comments lol- will be out by this weekend!

Four years ago

“Well hello, pretty.” Came the slow drawl of the voice behind you, it’s your first day of college, you’re so nervous but excited, this was a big opportunity for a girl like you, a full ride scholarship so elite. You look around, seeing the white haired man whistling as he stares at your ass, his sunglasses perched on his straight nose.

“Gojo?” You ask then, since you all met Senior year of high school, he’d certainly never called you pretty.

His blue eyes lock on yours over his shades, blinking then, thin brows together. “When did you get such a nice ass?”

“A nice what!?” You turn now, shoving at his chest, which almost makes you blush at just how built he feels.

You remember seeing him shirtless playing basketball, dribbling that and dunking in school, but the two of you never talked, you were the new girl Senior year and quiet, he was as popular as it got. This year, you want to have a life, have friends, not just be the shy girl.

You have a plan.

And he certainly can’t fuck that up.

“I didn’t know it was you, shit, you been like… doing squats or-”

“Can we not talk about my ass? Also how was I pretty from the back?” He’s grinning, bright white snarky little grin.

“I bet it’s pretty from the back-”

Smack.

“Ow, what the hell!?”

“You are an ass, Satoru Gojo.” A crowd gathers, gasping as Satoru takes off his shades, a red mark on his face.

“Give a girl a compliment and she smacks you for it!? Prissy little brat.”

“I don’t want your pervy compliments, manwhore.” You hear the oohs and whispers rolling more and more, as he crosses his arms, smirking like the little shit he is.

“Pervy? No, you should be honored to have them by me, goody goody.”

“Conceited jerk! Ugh!”

“Little nerd!”

“Me!? Don’t you play Digimon!”

“Yeah but you play DnD.” You cross your arms now, glaring up at the tall handsome jerk of a man, in his stupid blue polo that brings out his eyes, very unfortunately.

“DnD is classy.”

“Okay dungeon master.”

“Ugh!” You both stomp off in different directions, as everyone disperses, already talking about the two of you, people who never noticed you in high school now saw the girl who slapped ‘the’ Satoru Gojo.

Satoru’s friends, Suguru and Sukuna come up to him then, as he rubs his cheeks, and he sees Utahime talking to you. “Oh great, she’s talking to the number one Gojo hater.”

“She smacked the shit out of you, dude.” Suguru snorts, clearly blitzed, where his eyes are white they’re bright red. Satoru rubs his cheek, as you walk off, that nice ass in those jeans jiggling just so, while your hips sway.

“Just told her she had a nice ass.” He grumbles, Sukuna and Suguru lean their heads to the side, whistling, earning you looking back at the three men.

“Really!?” You cross your arms, and they all snort in laughter.

“They’re pigs, I know. Hey, we should sign up for the sorority, don’t you think!?” Utahime asks, you bite your lip nervously.

“A sorority?”

“You’d do great, baby.” Comes the voice of Ieiri Shoko now, you exhale in relief.

“Shoko!” You both hug her, as she sucks on the tip of her cigarette, looking back at the boys and laughing a bit.

“They’re still staring at your ass.”

“My god!” You take off your hoodie then, wrapping it around your hips, flipping the three of them off, Sukuna and Suguru laugh, but Satoru’s just staring, blue eyes far, far too much to handle.

Blue eyes you fell into when you first saw him.

Before he opened his mouth, that is.

*****

Present Day

The memories fade off, when you head up the stairs to the rooftop restaurant where you were meeting your parents for lunch, and you hear a low whistle as you step up each stair. You turn, hand on the railing while the breeze whips your dress around just a bit, when you see him staring right at your ass.

“Satoru!”

“It’s getting bigger, pregnancy is kind of hot on you.” You gasp now, as he’s licking his lower lip, eyes traveling up your body.

“I’ll smack you!” You whisper, turning and leaning close, while his hand now comes to rest on your waist, feeling far, far too good.

“It’s a compliment, pookie, relax.”

“I’m not your pookie and-” He pinches your ass now, before casually strolling up the stairs, hands in his pockets, as you’re fuming and stomping along next to him.

“You’re a brat.”

“A brat!?”

“Never could take a compliment for shit.”

“A big ass isn’t-”

“There you two are!” Your parents wave you two over then, and Satoru puts an arm around you with ease, waving and grinning, hand precariously close to the ass that has driven him insane since the first day of college.

“Hey guys!” You greet, grinning but whispering through your teeth. “I’m gonna kick your ass later.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time now.”

Hehe I can't wait for this update (will tag the whole list when it's ready!)

Perm Tags: @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji  @cvixmei @mutsu422 @g00seg1rl @ivyvenus333 @suki91 @naomi-main @fairygardenprincesss @estrellaexists @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @strychnynegirl @jinjen

[neeeooon]

Hello!

I really love your writing and i am going through your Blue Lock hc... so i don't know if you have already written my request,if so...i am sorry i didn't see it!

How about the Blue Lock guys get jealous over they own teammates?Like he introduce f!reader to his teammates and f!reader is laughing and having a good time? Maybe with Kaiser,Sae and Bachira or any other character you are comfortable with♡

hii thank you so much!! i have one jealousy post but it isn’t jealous toward members (except rin + karasu) SO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST 🩵

when they’re jealous of their teammate

jealous bf bllk x fem!reader

michael kaiser

-> kaiser already hates the fact that yoichi is trying to “take” his spot as the main character on the bm soccer team, but now he’s trying to take you too? absolutely not

-> in reality, isagi is not trying to steal you away from your boyfriend, leaving you completely clueless to kaiser’s jealous and unsure as to why he’s so upset whenever you ask to watch him practice or play games

-> “i just don’t know what’s up with him,” you confess to isagi as you both watch your fuming boyfriend dart across the field, scoring goals so loud you flinch. “ever since i started coming to games here, he seems pissed off. he was never upset when i did this before!”

-> isagi, totally unhelpful, shrugs and sips some water on the sidelines. “your boyfriend is creepy, y/n.” “he is not!” “is too!” you shove isagi in a playful manner, causing you both to laugh, and suddenly your stony-faced boyfriend is right in front of you

-> “oh, micha! done with pr—“ “we’re leaving.” you don’t have time to say goodbye to isagi before you’re on your feet and jogging after kaiser

-> “hey, what—“ “you’re my girlfriend, okay? mine. not his. he can’t have you, too.” you’re a little confused at who he means at first, but once you see the glare he shoots at isagi, you sigh. “he’s not trying to take me away, micha. even if he was, it wouldn’t matter because i’m in love with you.”

itoshi sae

-> he knows oliver is a flirt. he knows you’d never fall for the flattery. but when he overhears the player’s body count, he starts getting a bit nervous, because what could the guy possibly say to get so many people in his bed?

-> sae had a sneaking suspicion that oliver used banter and his witty sense of humor to draw others in, so when the sound of your lighthearted laughter fills his ears, he’s feeling all sorts of twisted inside as he spots you with oliver

-> you and oliver. together. his hand raised as if he’s about to caress the small of your back. he doesn’t get the chance, though, because sae is suddenly standing behind you with oliver’s wrist gripped in a fist

-> “problem?” oliver challenges him, eyes sparkling with mischief. sae scowls and shoved his temporary teammate away before placing his hand on your back and slowly pushing you to the exit with him

-> “hey, i haven’t had my fruit punch yet—woah, are you okay?” your playful tone dies in your mouth when you see how tensely your boyfriend is looking at you

-> “you were laughing.” “oh, um, yeah. he made a really bad dad pun, you know i’m a sucker for those.” “he was going to touch you, y/n. he’s clearly hitting on you.” you shuffle a bit, unsure of what to say. “oh. i didn’t realize..”

-> and you didn’t, because why would you look at anyone else when you were dating itoshi sae? the man worshiped you..! in his own ways. your smile throws him off. “no need to be jealous, cute boy. i only have eyes for you.”

bachira meguru

-> bachira doesn’t like feeling jealous. he trusts you, he really does, but watching you and rin makes him doubt that

-> you’ll admit that you have been shadowing the younger itoshi quite a bit, but it’s not the the reasons bachira’s mind plagues him with

-> your older brother passed away in an accident, and your last conversation with him hadn’t been the kindest. when you learned about the strained relationship between rin and his brother, you wanted to help in a familiar sense

-> “y/n, can you help me?” bachira whined as he frowned down at his english homework. “i’ll be right there, megs.” and then you wander off to huddle heads with rin

-> and then? you laughed. with rin! bachira has never seen the guy smile, and now he’s making you laugh? his cheeks puff and blush in envy as he discards his homework and stomps over to you

-> “y/n, i would very much like your help right now please!” you can tell that he’s frustrated, but he looks so adorable that you can’t help but smile as you stand. “okay, i’m coming, pretty boy. what’s up?”

-> “you and that. him! that guy! it makes me feel all icky inside watching you laugh with him, and i don’t like it.” his blatant honestly makes you grab his hands and pull him closer to you. “he reminds me of my brother… but you’re right, i’m sorry if i crossed a line. i’m only trying to help, but you’re my boyfriend, so if hanging out with him makes you uncomfortable, i’ll stop.”

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 18

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

This has literally all the worst things the internet has to offer: Ableism, Sexisms, Toxic Media, horrible journalism, death threats...I am pretty sure I am missing some of it.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando was exhausted. His body ached, the post-race adrenaline long gone, and his head was still spinning from the chaos of the last few hours. But the moment he spotted Lizzie waiting just outside the McLaren motorhome, arms crossed, wearing his hoodie, none of that mattered.

She grinned the second she saw him. “Podium at home,” she said, stepping closer. “You looked good up there.”

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “Felt like I could’ve done better.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You stood next to Max and Lewis on the podium at Silverstone, Lando. Take the win.”

He huffed a laugh. “Fine. But only because you said so.”

She smirked. “Good, Pretty Boy.”

He groaned, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you keep me around," she teased him before growing serious. "I’m proud of you.” Her voice was softer now, meant just for him.

His chest went tight in the best way, and he wanted nothing more than to stand there forever. But the media was still prowling, and he knew the longer they lingered, the more likely someone would shove a camera in Lizzie’s face, and he was not in the mood for that.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist as they turned toward the parking lot.

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional burst of radio chatter as their driver navigated through the post-race traffic. Lizzie rested her head against the seat, fingers absently playing with the sleeve of Lando’s hoodie that she’d stolen earlier.

Lando found himself stealing glances at her while she wasn't looking, caught somewhere between exhaustion and the urge to blurt out what had been on his mind all day. The closer they got to privacy, the more his thoughts swirled.

It wasn’t until they were halfway there that he finally exhaled and said, “You won’t believe the absolute bullshit they asked me in the post-race presser.”

Lizzie hummed. “Oh, I have a guess,” she said drily, one hand absentmindedly petting Mara. 

That gave him pause. He turned his head to look at her. “Wait, you’re not surprised?”

She sighed, shifting so she could meet his gaze. “Lando, people like that always think disability is a burden. They just don’t usually say it out loud where it gets recorded.”

Lando had never wanted to throw a journalist into a wall more in his life.

His grip tightened on the seam of his race suit. “Well, they did say it out loud. And I told them they were full of shit.”

Lizzie’s mouth twitched. “I’d have paid money to see Max and Lewis’s faces.”

“Oh, Max looked like he was gonna throw a chair,” Lando said. “Lewis just did that thing where he got all quiet and disappointed, which somehow made it worse.”

Lizzie chuckled, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was trying to brush it off. Like this was just another part of life she had to accept.

It made him sick.

When they got to the hotel, Lando kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed, tugging Lizzie down beside him. She curled into his side without hesitation, their bodies fitting together easily.

For a while, they just lay there. Lando traced patterns on her back, letting the post-race exhaustion settle over him. Lizzie’s breathing evened out, her fingers lightly resting on his stomach.

Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he reached for his phone.

And immediately regretted it.

Fuck, he hadn’t expected this.

The internet was a fucking warzone.

The clip of the interview had already gone viral. His own words were plastered across Twitter, Instagram, TikTok—everywhere. Some people were defending him, but far, far too many were twisting it into something else entirely.

He scrolled past comments that made his blood turn to ice.

“He’s just saying that because he has to.” “Epilepsy is a liability. He’ll figure that out eventually.” “Lando should focus on racing, not playing nurse.” “They won’t last.” “Imagine risking a career over some disabled chick.”

“She’s a liability.” “No way this lasts.” “Epilepsy is a burden. She’s holding him back.” “He’s just saying that because he has to.” “F1 drivers should date models, not disabled girls.”

Lando’s stomach churned. He kept scrolling, seeing more and more of it.

Then he started seeing things from before the interview.

People digging through Lizzie’s old posts. Analyzing her seizures. Mocking her service dog. Even accusing her of faking it for attention.

“She plays it up for sympathy.” “She knew what she was getting into dating an F1 driver, she shouldn’t complain.” “She’s so dramatic about it.”

Lando barely registered that he’d started shaking.

“Lando.” Lizzie’s voice was quiet but firm. “Stop.”

He blinked, realizing his breathing had gone shallow.

Lizzie was sitting up now, watching him carefully. “Give me your phone.”

He clenched his jaw. “No.”

“Lando.”

His fingers curled around the device. “Liz, this is—it’s disgusting.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t—” He cut himself off, because of course she did. Of course, she’d seen this before. Dealt with it before. Probably expected it.

“I already know exactly what you’re reading,” she said plainly. “I’ve seen worse.”

That was somehow worse.

“I just—I don’t get how people can be so fucking cruel,” he muttered, voice raw.

Lizzie sighed, reaching out to take his hand. “They don’t see me as a person,” she said simply. “They see me as an inconvenience.”

He swallowed hard. “I should say something.”

“You already did.”

“Not enough.”

Lizzie gave him a soft, tired smile. “I love you. But you can’t fight every battle, Lando.”

He exhaled slowly. “Watch me.”

“Lando.” Lizzie’s voice was sharp now. But not to him.

She was watching him with steady eyes, expression serious. “You don’t need to fight this battle.”

He knew that tone. She was digging in her heels, refusing to let him push himself to the edge.

“You’re wrong.”

She arched a brow.

He clenched his jaw. “This is bullshit, Liz. I can’t just—” He cut himself off, a strangled sound caught in his chest.

 “You said what mattered, Lando. The people who get it heard you.”

He swallowed hard, searching her face. “I just— I hate that you have to deal with this.”

“I know,” she said again, squeezing his hand. “But I also know that I have you. And that means more than anything some faceless idiot online could ever say.”

***

***

Lizzie had been expecting the backlash.

She had known what the internet would say after Silverstone. People had always found ways to turn her epilepsy into some kind of burden, like it was something Lando had to suffer through instead of something she had lived with her entire life.

But she hadn't expected this...this amount...

She had woken up before Lando, slipping out of the bed to go the bathroom, swiping her phone on the way...

She opened Twitter while brushing her teeth.

When she saw the hate, she wasn't surprised.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. The words were still there, every slur, every insult, every snide comment about Lando being too good for her.

There were even worse things. Comments about the seizures, like the internet hadn’t decided to try and diagnose her enough times already.

But then—then she saw the thread.

She should have stopped reading after the first tweet. But she didn’t.

It wasn’t just speculation or people overstepping—it was surgical. Precise, methodical, cruel. Someone had gone deep, pulling up information she hadn’t even known was online. Her mother’s name. Her stepfather’s Facebook. The names and birthdates of her half-siblings—kids she had never met, would likely never meet.

Her vision blurred as she stared at the attached screenshot. An old Facebook post. A woman who looked so much like the mother she barely remembered, but older. A man beside her, his arm around her waist. And a baby in her arms.

The caption read: Our little family is growing.

Lizzie felt like she had been punched in the gut.

Little family.

She scrolled down further, her stomach sinking as she found another post. Two kids. A boy and a girl. Tagged with the names of people she had never heard of.

Her mother hadn’t just left.

She had started over. Had more kids. Had a whole new family.

And never once—not once—had she reached out.

A shaky breath left Lizzie’s lips.

Her mother’s new family. The one she had built without her. The life she had constructed, brick by brick, while leaving Lizzie and her dad behind like they had been a mistake she needed to erase.

Lizzie felt something sink inside her, deep and heavy.

And then she got to the comments.

"Lando deserves someone healthy.""She’s just going to be a burden.""You really think he’s going to stay with her forever?""He’s young, rich, and famous. Why would he settle for this?"

Her hands were shaking. Not from anger—though she should have been angry—but from something colder. Something sharper.

Because this wasn’t just strangers talking. These were the voices she had spent years trying to silence in her own head. The ones that whispered late at night, when her body ached from the aftershocks of a seizure. When she woke up disoriented, Mara pressed against her side, grounding her, reminding her that she was still here.

The ones that said, What if they’re right?

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring at the screen, heart pounding in her chest.

Then—knock knock knock.

“Liz?”

Lando.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands were still trembling. She forced herself to inhale, exhale.

The knock came again, a little firmer. “Lizzie?” His voice was careful. Concerned. “Can you open the door?”

Her fingers barely worked as she reached out, unlocking it.

The second the door opened, Lando was there, his eyes scanning her face, taking in her pale complexion, the way she was gripping the counter like she might collapse. His brows furrowed. “What happened?”

Lizzie swallowed, throat tight. “I—” Her voice wavered.

Lando took a step closer, his concern deepening. “Liz, talk to me.”

She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to say it. “My mum left when I was six.”

Lando stilled.

“She—” Lizzie laughed, but there was no humor in it. “She said she couldn’t handle it. That I was too much. My seizures, the hospital visits, all of it.” Her hands curled into fists. “So she left.”

Lando’s jaw clenched.

Lizzie’s breath shuddered out of her. “And now I find out she went and had more kids. That she had no problem being a mother, just not to me.” Her voice broke on the last word. “She replaced me.”

Silence.

Then—warm hands on her arms, grounding her.

“Liz.” Lando’s voice was quiet. Steady. “Look at me.”

She did.

His gaze was steady. Serious. “That is not on you.”

She tried to laugh, but it got caught in her throat. “It sure feels like it.”

His grip tightened—not too much, just enough. Just enough to keep her from floating away. “She made that choice. That has nothing to do with you.”

Lizzie shook her head, throat aching. “I—Lando, I just—I want to go home.”

His expression softened instantly. “Okay,” he said, no hesitation. “Let’s go home.”

Lando didn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t push her to talk, didn’t press for more details. He just nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and said, Let’s go home.

Then he made it happen.

He was on the phone in seconds, making arrangements, calling his team, canceling whatever obligations he still had.

Lizzie sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring blankly at the floor, the phone still clutched in her hand. The thread was still open, her mother’s face frozen on the screen.

She couldn’t look at it anymore.

Her fingers trembled as she locked her phone and set it down.

Mara padded over, putting her head on her knee, staring at Lizzie with deep dark brown eyes. Lizzie swallowed. 

Her thoughts were spiraling, looping around the same things over and over again. She left because of me. She couldn’t handle me. But she could handle them.

A deep inhale. Exhale.

She heard Lando pacing near the window, voice low but firm as he spoke to someone on the phone. “No, we’re leaving right now. I don’t care what the schedule says.” A pause. “Then change it.” Another pause, and then, more clipped, “Figure it out.”

Lizzie glanced up.

His jaw was tight, his eyes dark with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair before finally sighing, rubbing at his temple. “No, I don’t need to be there. I need to be with my girlfriend. Just handle it.”

A beat.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He hung up, exhaling sharply.

His eyes met hers, and some of the tension left his face.  “We’ll be out of here in an hour,” he told her, voice softer now. 

Lizzie nodded. “Thank you.”

Lando crossed the room in a few strides, sitting down beside her on the bed. He didn’t say anything at first—just reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

His grip was warm, steady. Grounding.

Lizzie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Then, quietly, Lando asked, “Are you okay?”

Lizzie hesitated. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to act like she was fine, that this was just another stupid internet thing that she could brush off.

But this wasn’t just that.

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around hers.

Her voice was quieter when she added, “I think I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Lando nodded, like he understood. Maybe he didn’t fully, but he wanted to, and that was enough.

Lizzie exhaled. “I always thought maybe she’d had a hard time. That maybe she wanted to reach out but just… couldn’t.” A shaky breath. “But she could. She just didn’t.”

Lando’s jaw clenched again. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, gentle. “That’s on her,” he said, voice low but firm. “Not you.”

Lizzie let her head fall onto his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then rested his cheek against her hair.

They stayed like that for a while.

Eventually, Lando murmured, “Let’s get out of here.”

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah.”

They left the hotel without looking back.

[rcvcgers]

hello!! i really like your writng! i was hoping if i can request a one shot with sylus or zayne with a non!mc reader where she’s kinda mean and purposefully makes herself look intimidating to scare others off bc it’s a defense mechanism they developed but really the reader is actually sensitive and a bit of a crybaby and just needs someone to lean on

have a nice day!!

thank you so much for this request! i went with zayne if that's okay! i'll most likely post one for sylus within the next week or so! :)

Guarded Heart

pairing: zayne x non!mc reader

synopsis: zayne meets an icy anesthesiologist with a tough exterior

word count: 3.8k words

author's note: wrote this in one sitting so...i do apologize if it's lame and not good at all haha

content warning: brief mentions of bullying & death, slight medical descriptions, slight self deprecating thoughts

ao3 link here!

It is a sunny day in Linkon. Birds are singing, the breeze is perfectly chilled to combat the scorching heat of the sun, and the air smells crisp instead of like smog. A ladybug flies onto your shoulder, resting on the hot leather as you rush towards the hospital doors.

Once glance at your chunky black watch reminds you just how late you are to prepare for your first on-call shift at Akso Hospital.

You weave through the group of people who stand in front of the hospital doors. They stand and take pictures, balloons and signs in their hands. A sign flies in your face! You jump to the side, barely missing a man who steps away from the group. Spinning on your heels, a gasp flies from your lips, a taller and much more muscular man colliding into you.

Warmth spreads across your chest, the smell of rich, velvety chocolate filling your nostrils. Your t-shirt and leather jacket stick to your skin. The group to the side gasps, muffled laughter clouding you and the man.

“I am very sorry,” his voice is calm and steady, a little too steady for your taste. If anything, it makes you even more irritated.

“It’s fine,” you feel him wipe covered first along your chest. You push his hands away, stepping around him. He turns and grabs your wrist.

“May I get your number? Allow me to pay for the dry cleaning of the clothes,”  he continues. You turn and look up at him, ripping your hand away. His eyes are remarkable; hazel hues burn into your own. You gulp and push some hair behind your ear, taking hurried steps backwards.

“No, it’s fine,” your tone is sharper than you intended it to be.

Then again, you have never been known to be the kindest person out of the bunch.

You walk inside the hospital, catching your breath. You rip your leather jacket off of your body, your shirt stuck to your skin, leaving you feeling sticky and uncomfortable. As you walk down the halls, people avoid you and your icy glare, a snarl curled on your face. They part and hug the walls, your shoes sticking to the floor with every step you take. It only irritates you more. Your nostrils flare and you puff out steam through your nose.

You head up the stairs, not wanting to be stuck in an elevator with people looking at you as if you’re the problem, and go up the three flights of stairs with ease. As soon as you step into the small locker room for anesthesiologists, you’re met with a disapproving look.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“You know you’re on call, right?”

“I was just on my lunch break, Dave,” you shoot a glare at the oversized man, shoving your belongings into your metal locker. You pull out your navy blue scrubs, eyeing the bathroom that Dave stands in front of.

“You’re lucky there wasn’t an emergency,” he slowly chews his potato chips. The crunch sends uncomfortable shivers down your spine, making your skin crawl.

“Yep. I know,” you push him out of the way, slamming the bathroom door shut behind you. You begin to chance when Dave’s voice makes you pause.

“A bitch as always.”

Your eyes close, shoulders slumping. Has your reputation come to this? Are you only known as a bitch to your peers? You’re here to do a job. So what if you don’t smile or stay in the cafeteria for lunch! They’re just your co-workers, not your friends.

The pager on your hip sounds off. You look down, sliding your feet into your designated work sneakers. The code tells you that it’s a patient coming in from an ambulance needing emergency surgery. A sigh fills the bathroom before you leave, slipping out before Dave can get in another jab.

Nurses and doctors stare at you as you pass. You push your messy hair behind your ear, the lingering smell of sugar and chocolate giving you a slight headache as you push through the emergency surgical bay doors on the first floor. You nod your head at the nurses who quickly scrub in and pluck a mask from a nearby box, placing it over your face.

The doors open once again and a tall man with dark hair steps through. The nurses’ eyes move to him; their shoulders connect as they giggle behind hushed whispers and quiet voices. You raise an eyebrow, cracking your fingers when you finally stare at the man. He’s tall and his muscles flex underneath his lab coat. He turns directly to the sinks and begins his sterilization process.

The realization hits you when you’re finally able to place his face.

He’s the man who spilled hot chocolate on you, making you late for the second half of your shift. You quickly step inside the empty surgical room, waiting for the trauma patient to be wheeled in.

A few minutes later, just as the tall man steps inside, wearing a teal surgical gown matched with light blue gloves and a mask over his face. His eyes flicker to yours while you stand by your equipment. You narrow your eyes at him, heat flooding your cheeks, the need to protect yourself rising in your chest.

Neither of you say a thing, not like you want to, and the tension filled stare is broken just as the patient is wheeled inside the room. The two of you jump into action, 

The surgery takes an hour and forty seven minutes to complete. It’s twelve minutes over Zayne’s personal best, but that’s because of the new recruits continually asking him questions while ignoring the blood that floods chest cavity.

You, on the other hand, were phenomenal. When he was able to look away, which was barely ever, he stole glances at you while you monitored the patient’s vitals. Every so often, he would ask you about the patient’s vitals and you immediately responded with the information he wanted to know. You even adjusted the anesthesia when he voiced what he was going to do next. You were able to slow the heart just right so he can focus and see where the knife sliced into the left chamber. The slow heartbeats helped him slip the near-microscopic needle in and out of the organ while he stitched it up.

It was because of you that Zayne was able to relax after the surgery knowing that his stitches were perfect and that the patient will have an easy, yet slow and meticulous, recovery.

Zayne pokes his head around the hospital trying to find you. You weren’t with the other anesthesiologists nor were you in the cafeteria or break rooms that are scattered throughout the hospital. When one of the nurses who was in the operating room with you noticed his frustration, he finally asked who you were.

“Oh her? She’s…off-putting to say the least,” she begins with an eye roll. “Nobody really likes her but she gets the job done so I guess she’s sticking round because of it.”

“Do you know where I can find her?” Zayne asks with a slight head tilt. The nurse’s eyes open wide.

“I…I don’t know, Dr. Zayne. She’s a loner and doesn’t really talk to anyone.”

Zayne frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. The nurse goes quiet, scratching the back of her neck before eventually walking away, shame written all over her face.

Why were people so cruel to you? If you were good at your job, which you are, why do they say cruel and nasty things about you? It confuses him. A person should be judged on their merit, not because of how introverted you are or if you have one bad day.

Little did he know that you pushed people away on purpose. It’s not like you wanted to. You just couldn’t bring yourself to be openly happy and carefree as others are.

You have gone through so much drama and have been through so many scandals that it has put you off from letting people in entirely. Your teenage years were cruel to you; bullies were relentless and their words and actions beat you down into nothing. It didn’t get better when you went off to university where your roommate purposefully locked you out of the dorm when you went to go take a shower.

People are cruel. You don’t need them and you certainly don’t need anyone else that’s new. The risk is too great to take on. You don’t even think you can go through another heartbreak or cruel friendship.

You always found yourself in the solitude of the hospital’s extra courtyard. It sits behind the tall building, covered in the building’s shadows when the sun moved to the other side of the sky. You liked looking at the flowers and watching the butterflies flutter past. It was also nice that nobody else really came into the courtyard. You were able to sit in solitude during your breaks or after a tension filled surgery like the one just half an hour ago.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

You jump in the metal bench, which has been designed to look like a pair of roses that sit next to each other, and turn around to see the tall surgeon from before. He wears glasses with thin metal rims and his scrubs are covered with a new lab coat, one that isn’t covered with the remnants of his drink that morning.

“I don’t want to be found,” you respond, turning back around on the bench. You pick at the skin around your fingernails, needing to give your body to do something to distract yourself from the handsome man.

Zayne circles around and stands in front of you. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, a habit he picked up from other surgeons to protect his hands, and sighs. He sits down on a chair across from you, only a few feet away. You avoid his hazel eyes at all costs, slowly inhaling the hot summer breeze.

“My name is—”

“Dr. Zayne,” you finish his sentence for him. He slowly nods. His eyes remain on you. “I know. You have an impressive résumé.”

“Do I?” A faint smile spreads across his lips. You finally look at him, catching the tail end of his grin before it disappears. “This is my first time here. It’s nice. Are you in here often?”

“Yes,” a part of you doesn’t know why you responded to him, “nobody knows about it. It’s...nice.” You turn your body to fully face him now. He matches your movement, one eyebrow slightly quirking up, gently urging you to continue.

But you don’t.

Bugs and insects fly around you. Butterflies flap their wings and hummingbirds stop at the feeders with the sugary pink water. Zayne observes the courtyard, wondering how he has never noticed it before. It’s all thanks to you that he is able to find solitude in such a chaotic environment.

You and Zayne sit in a comfortable silence. It’s something you aren’t used to but it feels nice. You don’t know whether his intentions are pure or not. You don’t seem to mind the company though.

“May I join you for lunch here tomorrow?” Zayne requests.

“Yes,” the answer leaves your lips before you can stop it. Zayne nods, a slight smile spreading across his lips, and he stands up.

“Wonderful. I will see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Zayne is early with his lunch, even having bought you a bottle of water just in case you didn’t have one. Hydration is key, after all! You rolled your eyes and sat next to him on the bench. You finally have him your name and filled in him in on how long you’ve been working at Akso.

“How have I never seen you before?” he asked with pure and genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I don’t know. I usually work with obstetrics,” you shrug. Zayne hides a smile on his face. He likes that you help bring new life into the world. He’ll have to swing by during some downtime to see you in action.

Zayne shows up the next day even earlier just to see you. You walk out with headphones on, a small scowl on your face while you swipe through your phone. He watches you closely; he watches as a bee flies past your face and you don’t swat at it, instead smiling and waiting for it to pass before moving on.

You find out that Zayne asked around about you. You hid the blush on your face as Dave throws a note Zayne wrote at you. His kind words, and typical doctor handwriting, makes you swoon. Your icy heart melts ever so slightly.

Not even a week later, you get the request from your supervisor to be temporarily switched over to the Cardiac department. As soon as you arrive, Zayne is the first one to welcome you. While everyone else avoids you due to your bitchy reputation, Zayne is quick to show you around and introduce you to everyone despite there being no smile on your face.

Three months later Zayne asks you to be his girlfriend.

He asked you after a particularly stressful shift. He showed up to your apartment, which was surprisingly close to his place, still in his scrubs, and knocked on your door until you answered. Your hair was a mess from the deep sleep you were in matched with dark purple bags under your eyes. A yawn barely left your lips when Zayne broke the silence.

“I lost a patient today.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry, Zayne. That must have been really hard.”

“It was,” he nods and looks down at you, out of breath from running up the stairs to your door, “it made me think.”

“Yes? About what?” you raise an eyebrow and step through the door. He takes your hand and places it over his heart. His touch wakes you up, energy flushing through your body. Your eyes widen. His heart pounds inside his chest.

“Be my girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Will you please be my girlfriend?” Zayne’s voice is breathy yet steady. A small smile spreads across your face. You slowly nod.

“Yes. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Maybe people aren’t so bad after all.

The two of you have fallen into a unique rhythm. It was convenient that the two of you worked at the hospital. Zayne even pulled a few strings for your shifts to line up, even going as far as to claim you as the Cardiac Unit’s main anesthesiologist.

Zayne slowly pushes through your icy interior, learning that you are one of the most caring and loving people he has ever met. You love your job as much as he does and also found out that you hate carrots, alongside eggplants and people who use the word ‘moist’. 

As the weeks pass, you notice that people still talk about you behind your back despite being much nicer to your face. Dave and the other anesthesiologists whisper about you when you leave the room and the nurses that work alongside Zayne always look at you like you are on the scum on the bottom of their shoes. It doesn’t bother you.

Or, at least you thought it didn’t.

You always pretended like their comments don’t mean anything to you. Zayne always moved to say something but you stopped him every time, telling him that it isn’t worth it. He always frowned when you said this but respected your choice, whisking you away to your secret place in the courtyard.

The nights you spend alone and away from him are the nights you cry yourself to sleep, the aching pain of their comments slicing into your skin, breaking the armor you built for yourself. You stayed up late those nights, staring at yourself in the mirror as the thoughts of self deprecation and sadness creeped throughout your body.

You sit in Zayne’s comfortable office, looking outside the window. A bird flies by while singing its song and chases after another, escaping your line of sight. His door is cracked open, having just steppe out for a moment. You click on your app, trying to clear the stage in the grocery store app Zayne installed for you. Your brows furrow together. The small carrot icons mock you, the third one nowhere to be found.

“Fuck you, carrots,” you murmur.

“Can you believe her?” a nurse by the name of Tabitha says outside Zayne’s door. Your ears perk up, head tilting in their direction.

“I know! How can he be with someone like her?”

Your heart sinks in your chest. Slowly pushing out of the chair, you inch towards the door. their voices grow louder. They are completely unaware of your presence lurking behind the wooden door. The more they speak, the more apparent it becomes that nobody in the hospital likes you. Everyone finds you weird, off-putting, crass, and obnoxious.

“She’s so weird! She’s probably blackmailing him to date her! How can a man like him ever go for a cold bitch like her?”

“I don’t know! Maybe she baby trapped him!”

“Cause that’s just what we need! Another version of her running around here!”

You sink away from the door, dissociating as you grab your purse. Another voice, male, comes into the mix. You don’t pay attention to it, though, and slip your phone and hospital I.D. into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. Zayne’s office door creaks open and he kicks it closed behind him, a cup of coffee and hot chocolate in his hands.

“Sorry I’m late, my love, an intern needed help with a few questions,” Zayne’s calm voice makes your eyes sting. You keep your back to him, ashamed to even look at the man you love.

Is he aware of how the people in the hospital think of you? Does he even care that they wish nothing but the worst for you?

No…Zayne probably doesn’t know. After all, you’re just a woman who doesn’t care about what other people think, right? You’re an ice cold bitch who doesn’t have feelings so why should it even matter?

When you turn around, a pained expression on your face, Zayne pauses. You avoid his gaze, opting to look at the ground instead of him. He places the cups on the side table next to the door and immediately walks up to you. He takes the purse and places it on the chair, grabbing your hands, lacing your fingers together.

“What’s wrong, my love? Is everything okay?” Zayne asks despite the creeping suspicion that it has something to do with Tabitha and Tiffany on the other side of the door.

He was quick to put them in their place, yes, and reminded them of just how valuable and important you are to the team at Akso, but he didn’t think that you were paying attention to their words.

“I’m fine,” you groan. You try to peel your hands away from his but his grip remains firm. “Zayne, please, I need to go—”

“No, you don’t,” he retorts in a calm tone. “You offered to stay with me while I finished paperwork.”

Tears sting your eyes, threatening to fall. Shallow breaths leave your chest. Zayne pulls you to him, tucking your hair behind your ear. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The kiss soothes you, helping calm some of your anxiety, but it’s not enough to pull the knife that was lodged into your back. You close your eyes and press your forehead against his chest. You tremble in his arms. Zayne places his hand on the back of your head, smoothing down your hair. You listen to his heartbeat. Every beat urges your tears forward and eventually you begin to cry, the weight of everyone’s dislike towards you finally causing you to crumble.

“It’s alright, honey, I got you, let it all out,” Zayne coos. You shudder into his chest, hands weakly wrapping around him. You grab a fistful of his shirt and loosen it from its tight tuck into his pants.

“I don’t know why they hate me so much,” you cry out. Your tears dampen his shirt. He rubs circles into your back, a frown overtaking his face. “I mind my own business! I say good morning and wave! I even brought donuts one day like you suggested!”

“I know, dear, I know,” Zayne sighs. He places his cheek onto the top of your head, pulling you closer into his body.

After knowing you for the past few months, Zayne has fallen in love with every side of you. He adores the hard glare you give him when he wakes you up from your morning shift. He loves the small smiles whenever he surprises you with a sweet treat after a long night shift. He loves the way you melt into his embrace when you’re in bed at night ready to go to sleep.

And most of all, Zayne loves the sweet, sensitive girl that you hide away. The one that cares about everyone and wants to save the world. That is the woman he fell in love with, not the reputation that others thrust onto you.

“You don’t need them,” Zayne sighs into your hair. Your sniffle against his chest, not daring to move. “They clearly cannot see the amazing woman that you are, but they will soon. It takes time.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you cry even more, hugging him ever closer to you. Zayne sighs and gives you a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t deserve you.”

You believed it, too. Zayne has always been so patient with you. He’s stuck by your side through thick and thin, waiting for you to let him in. It took awhile, yes, but he got there, finally penetrating the high walls you have built around yourself. He has been so kind and gentle with you, even reassuring you that he loves and cares for you when you silently needed it the most.

“You deserve me because I love you. I want nothing but the best for best for you, even if it means I have to give a stern lecture to those who hurt you,” Zayne’s tone is unusually light. It makes you laugh through your cries. He smiles and kisses the top of your head. You slowly pull away from him and he wipes away the tears from your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes. I will talk to them if you want me to.”

“No, Zayne, I meant about you…loving me.”

“Oh,” Zayne smiles down at you. He nods. “Yes. I do love you. More than you can even imagine.”

“I love you too,” you smile. You stare into those beautiful hazel eyes of his and remember why he has been the only person to melt your icy exterior. “Thank you for being so patient with me. I’m…I’m trying.”

“I know, my love, and I will wait for you no matter how long it takes.”

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you comfort yuri after the events of chapter 14

COMMENTS: i fixed that bullshit scene in chapter 14 when those assholes made yuri cry. i know the mc isn't very confrontational but i am and i got SO mad when that screen happened that i actually skipped through most of the dialogue. fuck those guys. we comfort yuri in this household.

He wasn’t the one who did the betraying. He’d done nothing but his best at every turn. He would never do anything to hurt his patients. He had always done his best. That’s why he became a doctor—to help people in ways he couldn’t before. How could they just enter his clinic and say that!? How could he stop this from continuing? He wanted to leave, he wanted out, he could do this anymore—!

“That’s enough. Get the fuck out right now.”

Yuri sucks in a shuddering breath, his shoulders trembling. It takes a moment for him to realize that you'd stepped in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. The two Frostheim students don’t look deterred, though.

“Getting someone else to cover for yo—”

“Quiet. You have no right to speak here. Get the fuck out.”

“But—”

“Ah, no. Did you not hear me? You might want to go see Darkwick General if you’re becoming delirious. Did you honestly think you could just walk into Yuri’s lab and disrespect him like that? Take your fucking ointment and get out.”

“You—”

“Why are you still here? Trying to dig your own grave? I can’t understand why assholes like you think you even deserve to breathe the same air as him. Yuri is a very intelligent, compassionate man. He’s a far more valuable person than you will ever be.”

It takes Jiro coming back for them to scatter, but all Yuri can think about is how you’ve defended him. He stays silent, letting the thoughts wash over him, and it isn’t until you hold his face and murmur a soft “hey, let me see you,” that he breaks.

It’s embarrassing, sniffling in your arms like a child. His vision is blurry, but sees your heart broken expression and wishes he could fix it. He's the cause of it, the cause of that brokenness, and Yuri wants nothing more than to hold you together, to tell you that he’s fine and that they didn’t affect him at all, but he can’t speak. He soaks up your comfort, hiding his face in your shoulder as you wrap your arms around him, rubbing the most gentle circles onto his back. You’re talking—he thinks you don’t think he’s really, truly listening—and you say the sweetest things.

“You’ve done more with three minutes of your time than they will do with their entire lives,” you say, “You’re talented and strong and so, so smart. I’m always impressed by just how much you know. You’d think I would stop being surprised at some point, because you’re just such a hard worker, but I don’t think I ever will be.”

Your shirt is wet with his tears, His hands are wrinkling the fabric with the force of his grip.

Don’t go. Please stay. Please, please stay.

Believe him. Believe in him. Please.

He wants to stop the tears from falling, to remind you that he’s a strong person even though you've already confirmed it, but with your words his words die away. Your breath is warm against his ear and he shudders, a gut wrenching sob leaving his lips.

It’s been so hard. It always is and always will be.

“Breathe,” you murmur.

One of your hands finds its place on the crown on his head, and when you begin to stroke his hair like he’s someone precious, he crumbles all over again.

It feels so good to be vulnerable. He hates it, but it feels so good. You’re not shoving him away, or calling him a traitor, or yelling at him for his mistakes. You’ve accepted it, or maybe you don’t believe it, but whatever answer is good enough for him so long as you stay by his side.

“You’re a wonderful doctor, Yuri,” you say, “I’ve never met someone so dedicated to his work. I’ve never met someone as passionate as you about advancing the field. You’re so amazing. Don’t let those lowly bastards get you down.”

He hears you ask Jiro to fetch some tissues. He hears him leave.

Yuri thinks he might believe you.

For once in his life, he might believe the things he says about himself, because they come from you.

You have never lied to him, not even once. You wouldn’t start now.

Yuri knows, after all this is over, he’ll be a scared boy curled up behind the brick walls he’s erected over the years. He’ll deny your touch and blush when you smile or ask to hold his hand. He’ll call you ignorant and watch as your face scrunches up in displeasure.

He’d think you hated him.

Why do you stay!?

What if...he messes up with you, too?

“For the record, I don’t believe a single thing those Frostheimer’s say.” you chuckle, “It all sounds like bullshit to me. But if there is anything you want to tell me, be in now or five years from now, you can. I promise I’ll listen.”

Yuri slumps into you.

“I only want to believe the things you tell me about yourself,” you hum, “Because if I believe what everyone says, I wouldn’t really know you. And that’s what I want to do.”

He lifts his head from your shoulder, meeting your gaze with his bloodshot one.

Yuri opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. What should he say? Thank you? I care about you? I want you to stay by my side? I want to protect you, too?

Your eyes dart around his irises, scooping up all of his emotions with your steady hands like they’re tangible things. Like you can understand him perfectly, even though he says nothing.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you reach up and cup his cheek again, brushing your thumb against the wetness of his cheekbone, “I’m honored to be able to help you in any way I can.”

And then,

“I care about you so much.”

You’re so close.

Yuri turns bright red and averts his eyes, sniffling violently. Jiro, back with tissues, hands him a few. He blows his nose and wrinkles his face in displeasure. How could he let those Frostheim students get to him?

How could he ever be weakened when he was next to two of the people who mattered most to him?

[sparkleyun]

7 minutes in heaven (pt 2)

part 1

pairing: jake x fem!reader genre: fluff, highschool au synopsis: after taunting you for an entire year, the last thing you expected was for a party to change everything between you and Jake. One simple game made you feel like you are talking to an entirely different person. wc: 2.7k warnings: none!! just pure fluff

The moment you step out of the closet your best friend is already at your side, eyes gleaming with curiosity. You barely register her rapid questions before brushing past her, your heart still hammering in your chest. The room feels too loud, too bright, too suffocating.

Jake is right behind you, you can feel his presence without even having to look back. The space between you two feels completely different. You don't know what to do with it, nor how to process what just happened in that tiny closet. The way he spoke to you in a serious manner, no teasing, no jokes, just his actual feelings.

He apologized, he admitted it.

He wanted your attention. He wanted you.

You need air, so without a word, you push past the crowd and slip out the back door, letting the cool night air hit your face. The sounds of the party are muffled now, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the distant hum of traffic. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself.

Your best friend follows, of course. She always does.

"Okay, spill." She demands, crossing her arms. "What happened in there? Because that was definetly not just two people sitting in a closet for seven minutes."

You hesitate, wrapping your arms around yourself. "He… apologized."

She blinks. "Wait, what? Jake Sim? Apologized? To you?"

You nod, chewing on your lip. "He said he didn't mean to actually hurt me. He was just trying to get my attention."

Her eyes widen. "Oh my God. That's basically a confession!"

"It is not!" you argue, but the heat rising to your face betrays you.

She lets out a laugh. "Oh, it so is. That boy has been messing with you all year because he likes you. Classic cliché."

You shake your head. "That doesn't make sense. If he liked me, why would he-"

"Because he's an idiot?" she interrupts. "Because he doesn't know how to just say, 'Hey, I like you. Wanna grab coffee sometime?' Some guys are like that. They tease, they prod, they push buttons because it's the only way they know how to get attention."

You exhale, rubbing your temples. "I just… I don't know what to do with this."

She shrugs. "Talk to him."

You stare at her. "Talk to him? Are you serious?"

"Yes! Clearly, you guys have some unresolved tension. And let's be real, you don't actually hate him. If you did, you wouldn't be out here freaking out about this."

You scowl. "I am not freaking out."

She gives you a look. "Okay, sure. And I'm Beyonce."

Before you can argue, the back door swings open again. Your stomach drops when you see who it is.

Jake, obviously.

Your best friend glances between the two of you, smirks, and then pats your shoulder. "I'll leave you to it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

You shoot her a glare, but she's already skipping back inside, leaving you alone with him.

Silence stretches between you, heavy and uncertain. Jake shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "So…"

You cross your arms. "So?"

He exhales sharply, looking up at the night sky like he's gathering his thoughts. Then, he finally speaks, "Look, I meant what I said in there. I really didn’t think I was actually bothering you that much."

You hesitate before responding. "You were."

He nods slowly, accepting the truth of it. "Yeah. I get that now. And I'm sorry. Really."

Something in his voice makes you start to believe his words. Maybe the honesty? Or the vulnerability. This isn't the Jake you're used to. The cocky, teasing boy who always seemed to have a witty remark ready with that irritating smirk on his face. This is different. He sounds different, the way he's acting...it all makes it more believable.

You shift on your feet. "Why me?"

His brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"Out of all people," you say, voice quieter now. "Why did you feel the need to get my attention?"

For the first time tonight, Jake looks nervous. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away before muttering, "Because I like you."

Your body stiffens at his response, you couldn't tell if this was just another way for him to mess with you or not. Everything was so confusing.

He exhales, shaking his head at himself. "And yeah, I know, I went about it in the dumbest way possible. But I didn't know how else to talk to you. You always seemed so… untouchable. So focused, so above all the dumb high school drama. I didn't think you'd ever notice me otherwise."

You blink, taken aback. "Jake, you're literally one of the most popular guys in school."

"Yeah, and you've never cared about that. That's what I like about you. You don’t pretend to be someone you're not. You're just… you. And I've been an idiot trying to get your attention the wrong way." He says, the regret and guilt of his actions hitting him harder the more he thinks about it.

You don't know what to say. Part of you is still skeptical, but another part...the part that remembers the way his fingers brushed against your wrist in the closet, the part that can't ignore the sincerity in his eyes and voice...it feels something else entirely and it's taking over your heart.

You take a deep breath. "Okay. Let's say I believe you. What now?"

Jake hesitates, then offers a small, nervous smile. "Let me make it up to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "How?"

"A real conversation. No teasing, no games. Just us, tomorrow. Coffee maybe?"

You stare at him, considering. Before you can overthink it, you nod. "Okay."

The relief that washes over his face is almost endearing. He gives you a small, proud smile. "Okay!"

For the first time since you met Jake, you feel at ease talking to him. It was weird, really. An hour ago he was messing with you like he did all year long, and now it's like he's shifted into a completely different person, but you still keep your guard up.

───

Jake paced outside the coffee shop, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly baked pastries and coffee from inside. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He'd never been this nervous before, never over a simple meeting. But this wasn’t just a meeting. This was his chance to finally make things right.

When you arrived, he spotted you instantly. You were scanning the shop with a cautious expression, clearly unsure about this whole ordeal. The second your eyes met, he offered a smile, waving you over.

"Hey!" he said as you approached, his voice softer than usual.

"Hey." you replied, still wary.

He held the door open for you, and you both stepped inside. The warmth of the café was a stark contrast to the chilly exterior, the hum of conversations mixing with the whir of the espresso machines. You glanced around before following him to a small table near the window.

"Thanks for coming." Jake said, settling into his seat. He looked... different. Less smug, more sincere. It threw you off.

"You were oddly persistent about it." you murmured, placing your hands around the warm cup the barista had just handed you. "Figured I'd see what all the fuss was about."

He chuckled, but there was something hesitant about it. "Yeah, well... I wanted to talk. Really talk."

You arched a brow. "About?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "About everything. About how I've been an idiot. About how I should've never treated you the way I did."

You blinked, caught off guard by his blunt words. "I mean... yeah, you were kind of the worst."

He winced but nodded. "I deserved that."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You watched him, waiting for the usual teasing comeback. But it never came. Instead, he looked at you with what seemed like a look of adoration. The eyes never lie.

"I didn't realize how much I hurt you until that night at the party," he admitted. "I thought it was all just... harmless. But it wasn't. And I hate that I made you feel that way."

You stared at him, fingers tightening around your cup. You wanted to be cautious, to hold onto your resentment. But there was something undeniably sincere in his voice. And that sincerity was making your heart do things you weren't ready for.

"Jake..." you started, but he shook his head.

"Just- let me say this," he interrupted gently. "I don't want to be that guy anymore. I want to be someone you actually want to be around. Not someone you barely tolerate for the sake of staying out of drama. I don't want you to hate me, and if you do, I understand. But I want to prove to you that being around me can be enjoyable, and that was all an act I put up because I was too scared to tell you the truth. I really am sorry..."

Your breath hitched. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment. He didn't just want to apologize, he wanted you to get to know him for who he really is, he just wanted a chance.

You didn't know what to say. So, instead, you took a sip of your coffee, trying to compose yourself. He watched you, waiting patiently.

Finally, you exhaled. "I don't know how to trust that you mean it."

He nodded slowly. "Then let me prove it. Let me make it up to you. However long it takes."

The weight of his words settled between you. And despite everything, despite the history, despite the wariness still lingering in your chest, you found yourself wanting to believe him.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You're really persistent, huh?"

He grinned, leaning forward. "Is it working?"

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "Maybe. A little."

His grin widened, there was no smugness in it. Just relief and joy.

The conversation flowed easier after that. The tension melted away, replaced by something lighter. He asked about your classes, about your latest book obsession, about things he never cared to ask before. And it was nice, you were actually having a good time speaking to him, despite your original reluctance.

At one point, Jake excused himself to the restroom, leaving his phone face-up on the table. You weren't going to snoop, but when the screen lit up with a message, your eyes flickered to it instinctively.

Karina: So... are you two together yet? Don't mess this up, Jake!

Your stomach flipped. Why is your best friend texting him? Together yet? You hadn't even figured out what you were feeling, but she clearly knew something you didn't. And then it clicked. Before the party, she had been acting strange. Downplaying Jake's actions towards you? Inviting him while she knew how much he hurt you...

The truth is, Jake had reached out to her before that night. He had asked for help. That's why he came to the party, to find a way to talk to you.

// Jake ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he held his phone to his ear. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Karina sighed dramatically on the other end. "For the hundredth time, yes. You want a chance to talk to her, right? The party is the perfect place. A little noise, a little chaos, less pressure, and you won't have to awkwardly text her out of nowhere."

Jake exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just… I don't want to mess this up again. She already thinks I'm an asshole."

"Well, to be fair, you are an asshole," she replied, unimpressed. "But you're trying now, and that counts for something. Just be honest. And don't- don't act cocky. You do that thing where you smirk like you're untouchable, and it's annoying as hell."

Jake groaned. "It's just my face."

"Then change your face."

He laughed despite himself, then let the nerves settle in again. "And you're sure she'll be there?"

"Yes!" your best friend said, exasperated. "Now stop overthinking it. Just show up, be nice, and maybe, for once in your life, tell her how you actually feel."

Jake let out a breath. "Alright. I'll be there."

"Good. And if you screw this up, don't even think about texting me for damage control. It's all on you."

Jake chuckled. "Noted."

As he ended the call, he exhaled slowly. This was his shot. He just had to hope you were willing to take a chance on him too. //

By the time Jake returned, you were still processing it all but decided to play it off. He sat back down, oblivious to what you'd seen, and flashed you a small, nervous smile.

Your chatter continued for a while. It was weird. You had never seen this side of Jake before. It was polar opposite to his annoying and rude popular boy side, but deep inside, you could tell that that wasn't the real him. The person sitting in front of you right now is who he really is. Or at least that's what you were hoping for. You wanted to trust your instinct, you wanted to be right, but you just weren't 100% sure yet.

When the coffee cups were nearly empty and the sun was starting to set, Jake hesitated, fingers drumming against the table. He looked at you like he was debating something.

"What?" you asked, raising a brow.

He inhaled sharply, then let it out. "Can I do something crazy?"

Your heartbeat kicked up. "Depends. How crazy?"

He didn't answer, not with words anyway. Instead, he scooched closer to you and leaned forward slowly, watching for any sign of hesitation. When you didn't pull away, when your breath caught but you didn't move, he closed the gap and kissed you.

It was soft. Gentle. Nothing like what you would have expected from thee Jake Sim. It was hesitant at first, like he was afraid you'd push him away. But when you didn't, when you instead found yourself melting into it, he deepened it just slightly, his fingers brushing against yours on the table.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours. "Too crazy?"

You exhaled a shaky laugh, your lips tingling. "Maybe, but I can't complain."

His grin was radiant, but then his expression turned more serious. "I meant what I said before. About wanting to be better. And... I want to do this right."

You swallowed. "Do what right?"

His hand found yours, tentative but steady. "Us. I know it's sudden, and I know I have a lot to prove, but... will you be my girlfriend?"

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Part of you wanted to tease him, to make him sweat a little. But the bigger part of you, the part that had wanted this for longer than you cared to admit, was already giving in.

You squeezed his hand, smiling softly. "I think... I'd like that. But you have a lot to prove to me."

Jake let out a breath, like he had been holding it the entire time. His fingers tightened around yours, his grin breaking into something so genuine it made your chest ache. "If i had to, i'd spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I truly love you."

a/n: omg I'm sorry this took so long to post I hope it's good at least 😭

Tags: @vivimura @teireiii @en-chantedtomeetyou @bloomiize

[coquettefrancaise]

how will i know

by Whitney Houston

pair: dad!Azriel x mom!reader ~ 645

warnings: fluff

summary: Azriel tasks himself with putting your curious daughter to bed but is instead bombarded by her never-ending questions

author's note: wanted to post something silly, that wasn't over a thousand words, to feed you beautiful people, enjoy lovelies 😘

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

This had been the first time Azriel had returned home from his court duties before your daughter went to bed. He ushered you into your shared bedroom, insisting on you unwinding and relaxing as he took over the privilege of putting your rambunctious three-year-old to bed. With seeing her for only a few hours each day, he wished to spend more time with her, even if that meant answering her absurd questions.

"You have wings like a bat." She stated, shoving her stuffed bat, that she received from Mor for her first birthday, in his face. "See?"

He took the toy and looked at it with faux scrutiny. "Oh? I can see the resemblance."

"So does Uncle Cass and Uncle Rhys and Nyxie and Aunt Nesta's babe!"

"You are an astute observer, little shadow. And if Uncle Cass or Uncle Rhys ask, remind them that I have the biggest wingspan. But yes, there are many people in this family who have wings similar to bats. Did you know that there are also people who have feathered wings?"

The hazel eyes she inherited from him, widened in childlike wonder. It softened Azriel's heart just knowing that he took part in creating something as wonderful as her with the magnificent female a room away. "May I meet one, daddy?"

Azriel adjusted the blankets underneath her chin and smoothed a hand over her forehead. "They live far, far, far away from here. Do you remember me telling you that story of the Seraphim's? Of Miriam and Drakon?"

Black brows scrunched in an attempt to recall anything about that subject.

She gasped, "I remember! That they live on an island in the middle of the ocean?"

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips at what she remembered. "Their people have the feathered wings."

"Like birds?"

He chuckled quietly. "Yes, little shadow."

"Do you think they sing like birds?"

"I imagine, in a different way, they do."

Just when he believed she was about to close her eyes, she opened her mouth again.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"If you have bat wings does that mean you sleep upside down?"

Before he could stop himself, Azriel barked out a laugh. The unexpected, yet completely innocent, question even causing his shadows to bob in amusement.

He regained his composure and pressed a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, one of the lovely attributes she received from you. "Surprisingly, I do not sleep upside down. As for your Uncle Cass... you'll have to ask him the next time he's around."

She scrunched her nose in disappointment. "Why are you such a boring bat, daddy?"

"A question for another time. For now, you should be sleeping; I promised your mother I'd have you zonked out in no time and I mean to keep my word. I love you."

"Love you." She mumbled through her yawn.

Moments later, Azriel stepped out of her room, stationing a couple of shadows by her side, and left to go sleep himself.

He found you lying on the bed, book in hands and clothed in an old shirt of his. His favorite attire of yours, besides being naked. You lifted your eyes from the words in front of you and met his. "How'd she do?"

"You have quite the chatty daughter. She was barraging me with all sorts of questions and even some insults. Are you sure you didn't have some secret tryst with Cassian when she was conceived?"

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly. "She's all yours, I assure you. And just what was she asking you about to have you roaring like that?"

Azriel considered the canopy of the bed. "She asked me if I slept upside down, like a bat."

He raised an arm to tug on it, testing it. "On a completely unrelated note, how strong do you think this frame is?"

[rafes-slut]

hi hi can u write something with rafe who doesnt know how to comfort sad reader so he just… fucks her to make her stop crying 🙏🏽

Shut You Up

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x You

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected sex, slight dub-con (Rafe doesn’t ask for permission, but you don’t stop him), rough sex, mild choking, overstimulation, toxic dynamics, emotional manipulation, possessive Rafe, Rafe being bad at emotional comfort, crying, angst, slight aftercare.

Rafe had never been good at comforting people.

He knew how to start fights, how to finish them. He knew how to win, how to manipulate, how to force things to go his way. But when it came to soft things—handling emotions, talking through problems, wiping away tears—he was fucking useless.

That’s why your crying was driving him insane.

He had been sitting on the edge of his bed, watching you as you curled up on his mattress, sobbing into his pillow. He had tried, for all of two minutes, to awkwardly tell you that “it’s not that bad” and “you’ll be fine.” But none of it worked. You kept crying. And it made his skin crawl. Not because he didn’t care, but because he had no idea how to make it stop.

And Rafe hated feeling powerless.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

Without a word, he got up, gripping your wrist and pulling you onto your back. You gasped, startled, looking up at him with wet, swollen eyes. His expression was hard—frustrated, intense.

“Rafe—”

“Shut up.” His voice was firm, low. His hands were already pushing up your shirt, his rough fingers grazing your ribs. “You’re crying over some bullshit that doesn’t matter, and I can’t fucking listen to it anymore.”

You sniffled, confusion flickering across your face, but you didn’t stop him as he pulled your shirt over your head. Maybe you knew what was coming. Maybe you wanted it.

“I-I just…”

His fingers hooked into your shorts, tugging them down your thighs in one smooth movement.

“Did I tell you to talk?” His voice was sharp, impatient.

You shivered.

Your panties were soaked, and Rafe smirked when he noticed. “Oh, so you like this?” He let his fingers trail between your legs, pressing against the damp fabric. “You like crying in my bed and then letting me fuck it out of you?”

You whimpered, and he took that as a yes.

Rafe wasn’t gentle. He never was. He shoved his own clothes off, not bothering to take his time. His cock was already hard, leaking against his stomach as he spread your thighs wider, settling between them.

He didn’t prep you. He didn’t ask if you were ready. He just pushed inside, groaning at the way your walls clenched around him. You gasped, your fingers gripping at his arms.

“Rafe—”

He grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks until your lips parted. “I told you to shut the fuck up.” His thrusts were deep, rough, each one pressing the breath from your lungs. “You wanna cry? I’ll give you something to cry about.”

You didn’t stop crying—but now it was for an entirely different reason.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as pleasure mixed with the remnants of your sadness, your body trembling beneath him. Rafe leaned down, his mouth brushing over your damp skin, his teeth scraping against your throat.

“Fucking take it,” he growled.

You did. You took everything he gave you. His cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, his hands gripping your body like he owned it, his pace relentless.

Your orgasm crashed over you before you could even think to fight it, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as your back arched. Rafe didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down. If anything, he went harder, chasing his own high.

You whimpered as overstimulation settled in, but he didn’t let up. “You can handle it,” he muttered. “You can take it. You’re a big girl, right?”

You didn’t answer, too lost in the pleasure, too lost in him.

Rafe groaned, his thrusts growing sloppy as he reached his limit. He buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a strangled curse. For a moment, he stayed there, catching his breath, his weight heavy on top of you.

Then, finally, he pulled out, his release dripping from your swollen cunt. He looked down at you, still wrecked, still trembling. His brows furrowed.

“…Feel better?”

You let out a shaky breath.

Yeah. You did.

[glossypolaroidkisses]

pt 2 continuing jealous college bf lu anon ask — <3

You don’t fully process it until you’re walking out of the lecture hall, Luigi at your side, his stride just a little too purposeful; He’s still simmering.

You press your lips together and bite your tongue, hiding your amusement as you glance up at him. His jaw is tight, tongue pressing into his cheek like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something, but it slips out anyway.

“That guy is so full of shit.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Luigi.”

“No. Seriously,” he mutters, shaking his head. “The way he was talking, it’s like he just discovered how smart you are.” He scoffs. “Like he’s some kind of genius for pointing out something that’s fucking blatant.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So… what? You wanted him to downplay it?” you ask. Luigi turns to you, incredulous. “No, I wanted him to not act like he had some exclusive insight into your talent—like he just, gets you, or something—when really, he was just inflating his own ego.” Luigi’s voice dips lower, rougher. “Probably trying to impress you.”

Ah. There it is. You fold your arms, biting back a smile. “So you are jealous.”

Luigi scoffs, looking away. “I’m—” He exhales sharply, then grumbles, “It’s not jealousy.”

You give him a knowing look. He glares for half a second before rubbing the side of his face and muttering, “Fine. Maybe that plays a part.”

You smirk, leaning in slightly. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” You pause, tilting your head. “But now I’m starting to wonder… you were paying a lot of attention to him. Should I be jealous?” you tease.

Luigi glares at you for half a second before rubbing his face. Then, with perfect deadpan delivery, he mutters, “Can’t believe you let a man who dresses like a divorced economics professor flirt with you in front of an audience.”

You blink, caught completely off guard, before bursting into laughter.

“Oh my god.” You press a hand to your mouth. “Luigi.”

“What?” He shrugs. “The man has salt-and-pepper hair but the energy of an undergrad trying too hard in a philosophy debate. It’s offensive.”

You shake your head, still laughing. “You’re so petty.”

“Only when it’s deserved.” He smirks, but his eyes soften just a little as he looks at you. “And only when it involves you.”

A slow grin spreads across your face. “Hot.”

Luigi’s head snaps toward you again, eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s trying to gauge if you’re messing with him. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You step closer, tilting your head. “The whole passive aggressive, I’m-smarter-than-you thing?” You start fanning yourself for dramatic effect. Luigi lets out a breathy chuckle. “Didn’t do it to be hot.”

“Still was.”

His fingers flex at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pull you in right here, right now. His voice drops lower, edged with possession. “You’re mine, you know. Even if people don’t know it.”

A shiver runs through you. Your amusement melts into something warmer, heavier. “I know.”

He studies you for a second before shaking his head. “Also, you being smart is common knowledge. His spectacle was nothing but a reminder of your brilliance and a display of his ignorance.”

You laugh, looping your arm through his. “Noted.”

By the time you get to his dorm, he’s settled. Mostly. You stretch out on his bed, lazily watching as he tosses his bag onto the chair. Then—

“I still don’t like him.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

He huffs, shaking his head with a smirk. “And you…” He leans in, voice dropping. “…are mine.”

Your stomach flips. His voice—low, assured, certain—does something to you.

“You did kill that presentation, though,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead. “So damn smart.”

“You give me too much credit.”

He shakes his head, unwavering. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I’ll make sure you get what you deserve until the day I die.” He purrs. Your heart stumbles.

Then—

“…Still don’t like Neil.”

You groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs, low and satisfied. “You don’t have to like him,” you tease, “you just have to like me.”

Luigi chuckles. “Happily.” He leans in, his lips brushing yours, soft at first; Then deeper, slow and claiming. You sigh into him, fingers tangling in his curls, your body melting against his. Luigi’s hands find your waist, firm, grounding, like he needs you to know how much he wants you close. How much you belong to him, here, in this moment, with no room for doubt.

[y0ur-lovrr]

—Parasitic.

A/n; sorry I haven’t written in some time, I’ve had terrible writers block and I’ve been busy with my schoolwork, so forgive me 🙏🏻

Pairing; chishiya shuntaro x reader

Parasitic.

That’s the word you’d use to describe chishiya. He’s a parasite. He takes advantage of the people that trust with their whole heart, or even if they trust only with a little part of it-he takes advantage of it. No matter who you are. Hes a parasite that uses the people around him. And yet again, that’s what he’s done.

You’re seething-at the point that someone would take a look at you and would think you’re a rabid dog. But that’s also maybe because of the flames around you from the beach as it burns in flames.

He had betrayed you for the damn cards, he played you and arisu at the same time-oh, you should’ve known, that little—

You pause the thought as you jump out of the was as a piece of a pillar nearly falls onto you, shit-you need to get out of this building, the ten of hearts game has to be over by now, right?

Despite being blinded by anger, you’re not that dumb to realize that you have to get out of this god forsaken building.

after some time you manage to get out of the building, okay for the most part, few scratches here and there, but you’re not really burned, so you’d say you were fine.

But you’re still so angry at the whole thing-chishiya really did that. You knew he was a parasite-you knew it, but you couldn’t help but trust him, and he threw it under the bus just like that.

Oh, you were pissed-infuriated. And god knows you’re not gonna let that go.

—“Hm, you survived the beach? Shouldn’t be surprised, since it is you.”

A familiar voice calls out to you as you step into a new game, the jack of hearts-and you tense at the voice, already knowing who it is, the sound already having you seethe in your spot.

He watches with a light smirk as you turn your head to glare at him, the explosive collar around both of your necks making it impossible for you to leave this game.

Chishiya can’t help but have a small sense of amusement at your anger, it’s radiating from you in heavy waves, he knows you’re mad at him-and for good reason.

You just want to lunge at him, tackle him and show him who he fucked with-and whose feelings he’s hurt. He really crossed you, and he knows that.

“C’mon now…in order for me to gain something I had to lose something, you know how it works.”

He muses, half expecting you to punch him or pounce, his voice is smooth and calm, and that alone just angers you-it’s like he doesn’t feel any type of remorse, he truly was an apathetic bastard.

“Yea?” You huff out, forcing a small smile on your face, buts it’s obviously strained, and it quickly fades into a small scowl, your judging gaze burning holes through him-not that he cared.

“So I was worth losing? Throwing under the bus like that? I was just a pawn?”

You ask bitterly, your fingers slightly clenching as they form into fists at your sides, you knew you were a pawn, but it still hurt-and it was a good reason to be angry.

“If it was up to me I would’ve kept you around, but I wanted those cards.” He says nonchalantly with a simple shrug of his shoulders, head tilting to the side like Cheshire Cat-as if you were a mouse he could just step on with his paws. “Shouldn’t have gotten attached to me anyway, you know that.”

“You wanna know what you are chishiya?” You ask with a small chuckle, one that is so forced as you try to keep yourself grounded, you just want to pounce on him and shove his face in.

“What?” He asks with a slight raise of his brow, his amusement still evident, as if him playing with you was his favorite activity. And honestly, it was-the way you got angry so fast was amusing, as if anger was the only way you knew how to deal with things.

“You’re a parasite.” Your words echo out into the room, and they actually make him pause, his head tilting to the other side, silently asking for you to elaborate. He’s been called a lot of things, but never a parasite.

“You use people-you use the trust that people have, and you use that to your advantage and then when you’re done you throw them away. That’s parasitic, you do it just because you can.”

You say harshly with a scoff, taking a step towards him, but he doesn’t move and just lets you come close to him, your hands twitching as if you’re resisting to hit him.

“I do what I have to do.” He replies with a small huff, not feeling remorse for what he did, how he basically left you like you were nothing, just for some cards. Oh, that’s funny. Really funny.

“No, you do it because you can, and you know that you can get away with it. Just like how a parasite does, that’s what you are, a parasitic, apathetic, bastard.” You argue with a shake of your head, your jaw beginning to tighten, and he realizes he’s beginning to back into a wall with the way you keep getting closer.

“You’re really caught up on this, aren’t you?—“

He doesn’t get to finish before you’re suddenly grabbing him by his collar and yanking him closer, your words going straight into his ear.

“Admit it, you’re a damn parasite.” You say harshly into his ear, and it’s then he realizes how truly pissed you are, and he slightly stumbles as you suddenly let him go, giving him a glare before you turn and walk towards the other room without another word-there’s a silent threat to your words, as if you’d make him see who he crossed if he came near you again.

He just huffs quietly and flattens out the spot on his white jacket where you grabbed him, unsure of what to say-he really knows he fucked up, and after a second his eyes drift to the side, the robotic voice saying that the amount of players has been achieved, and started explaining the rules.

“This game is gonna be interesting, especially with them…” he mumbles under his breath, following you into the other room where the other players were waiting, how fun.

[arcadianstar27]

It was nearly ten o’clock when they made their way to the tube. After an afternoon of shopping and endless chatter, Remus was torn between wanting nothing more than his bed and wanting to stay with Sirius forever. But since he was heading to Hampstead and Sirius to Islington—opposite directions—they had to part ways.

“I’d say that was a pretty decent first date,” Sirius said, hands shoved in his pockets. “Might actually keep you.”

Remus chuckled. “Lucky me.”

Around them, Camden’s nightlife was in full swing—music pouring from bars, laughter spilling into the streets, and groups of people weaving through the crowds. It was tempting to stay out a little longer, to keep walking and talking until morning, but he’d promised Lily he wouldn’t be late, and he already was.

"I mean it, though," Sirius said, stepping a little closer. People pushed past them outside the station, some grumbling at their lack of urgency, but neither of them cared. "I had a brilliant time today. And somehow, I think I like you even more than I did before—which I didn’t think was possible, considering I already like you a lot."

Remus felt his ears burn. He didn’t know how Sirius could say things like that so easily, so openly. He wished he could do the same, but words never quite worked the way he wanted them to. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of.

He pulled him into a hug—tight, lingering. Sirius let out a soft sigh and buried his face against Remus’ neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down his spine.

"I've missed you so much," Remus murmured, feeling a little braver now that Sirius couldn't see his face. "I'm so glad you're back."

Sirius pulled back just enough to press a kiss to his lips. It was barely more than a peck, really, but it left Remus grinning all the way to Hampstead.

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

ff: the unwritten language of loss by arcadianstar on ao3

[kooffeecup]

This is Us — 5 ֪ ׂ𖥔 𓏲

You were never meant to get tangled with Jeon Jungkook-your sharp edges and his quiet restraint should have kept you worlds apart.

A story of tension, longing, and the kind of love that refuses to let go.

pairing : shy nerd jungkook x bold y/n.

genre : fluff, angst , romance status : ongoing [series] chapter : 05

—————————————————————

The campus bonfire party was already in full swing when You found Jungkook exactly where you expected him buried in his books at the dimly lit library. The distant sound of music and laughter filtered through the high windows, an undeniable contrast to the silence he wrapped himself in.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him scribble something in his notebook, oblivious to the world outside. With a smirk, you strode forward and dropped a folded flyer onto his desk. “Come to the bonfire with me,” you said, your tone teasing yet firm.

Jungkook didn’t look up immediately. His fingers toyed with the edge of the paper, hesitating. “Not my scene,” he muttered. You rolled your eyes, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. “Of course, it’s not. That’s why I’m inviting you.”

He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. “Why?”

You shrugged, propping your chin on your palm. “Because you spend too much time in here, and you need to live a little. Besides,” you added with a sly grin, “it wouldn’t kill you to have fun for once.”

Jungkook hesitated, his mind warring with itself. The idea of being surrounded by loud music, a crowd of people, and Your unpredictable energy was overwhelming. And yet, there was something about the way you looked at him expectant, hopeful that made his usual refusals falter.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, you reached across the table and tapped the flyer. “Meet me there at ten,” you said, standing up. “Don’t make me come drag you out myself.”

With that, you sauntered away, leaving him staring at the flyer, heart pounding harder than it should have.

—

He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but later that night, when the clock struck ten, Jungkook found himself walking toward the bonfire, the distant glow of flames pulling him in like a moth to a flame.

Jungkook hadn’t planned to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. When Minju had invited him earlier that week, he had turned her down without hesitation, muttering something about needing to catch up on lab work.

Jungkook wasn’t sure why he had come. Or rather, he knew exactly why, You.

You had invited him, your eyes glinting with challenge when he hesitated. He had scoffed, but in the end, he found himself here, standing near the outskirts of the bonfire, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

The campus bonfire party was wild with laughter, music, and the golden glow of flames stretching toward the inky sky. The flames crackled, sending embers spiraling into the night sky. The air smelled of burning wood, melted marshmallows, and the faint hint of beer spilled onto the grass. Laughter and music mixed in the background, a steady hum of conversations blending into the warmth of the bonfire.

Jungkook stood at the edge of the gathering, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, the flickering light casting shadows over his face. 

“Jungkook?”

He turned at the soft voice, already recognizing it before he saw her. Minju stood beside him, her petite frame wrapped in a thick knit sweater, her eyes reflecting the fire’s glow. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a small, shy smile playing on her lips.

“You looked kind of lost,” she said, holding out a cup of hot chocolate. “Thought you might want something warm.”

Jungkook hesitated for a moment before accepting it with a nod. “Thanks.”

Minju smiled, stepping closer so that their arms almost brushed. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You said you had some work? You don’t seem like the bonfire type.”

“I’m not, really,” he admitted, taking a sip of the drink. Jungkook shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “ Thought I’d check it out.” The heat spread through him, but it wasn’t just from the hot chocolate. Minju’s gaze lingered on him, attentive, almost expectant. The warmth spread through him, but there was another heat creeping up his neck, the awareness of her proximity, of the way she was looking at him.

“I think it’s nice,” she said after a pause. “Seeing you outside of class. You’re always so focused… It’s kind of fascinating.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “Fascinating?”

Minju let out a small, nervous laugh, her fingers tightening around her own cup. “Yeah. You’re....um....really dedicated to everything you do. It’s admirable.” She looked up at him then, her expression soft, hopeful. “I, well, I was wondering....... ”

Before she could finish, a burst of laughter rang out from the other side of the fire.  

Jungkook’s gaze instinctively flickered toward the sound.

You.

You were on the other side of the bonfire, leaning against a log, your body relaxed in a way that made you seem untouchable. The firelight cast flickering shadows across your face, your smirk sharp as you laughed at something one of the seniors had said.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned. For a split second, your expression faltered. Eyes met across the fire. For a moment, everything else faded, the voices, the music, even the heat of the bonfire.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what passed between them in that instant. Your smirk faltered, just for a second, before your lips pressed together. Your fingers, which had been toying with the hem of your leather jacket, stilled. Jungkook felt his chest tighten.

“Jungkook?” Minju’s voice pulled him back. She was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for his response to a question he hadn’t heard.

He swallowed, shifting on his feet. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Minju’s smile didn’t waver, but something in her eyes flickered, just for a moment. She shook her head lightly. “Never mind. Maybe later.” She took a slow sip of her hot chocolate, her gaze lowering.

Jungkook wasn’t sure why, but the air suddenly felt heavier. Jungkook wasn’t sure why, but the air between them felt different now, thicker, heavier. Like Minju had noticed something in that split second he had looked away.

And when he glanced back at You again, you were no longer looking his way. Instead, you were laughing again, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you leaned into the guy next to you, closer than before.

Too close.

Jungkook clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the cup in his hand.He wasn’t sure what this feeling was. But he knew one thing for certain, he didn’t like it.

—————————————————————

[slvtfornegan]

“That another way of yours to thank me?”

Warnings: smut, a small fight, swearing, (s10 Negan)

Notes: idk how i feel about this one, it’s kinda rushed, i js wanted to post something. Also i wanted to write Negan more sub but I’ll leave that for another time.

—

The night air was cool against your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, lingering smoke from someone’s late-night fire. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, soft from the earlier rain, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed in the trees just beyond Alexandria’s walls. Most of the town was asleep by now, save for a few guards on patrol. You should’ve been in your house too, enjoying some peace and quiet—but Jesse had made that impossible.

You kept your back against the wooden side of a tool shed, listening.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

Damn it.

You had been avoiding him all day. Jesse had taken an interest in you a while ago, and no matter how many times you brushed him off, he just didn’t get it. He followed you around like a lost puppy, flashing that same eager smile, acting like the world hadn’t gone to complete shit. It was exhausting. Annoying.

And tonight? It was flat-out creepy.

He’d seen you leave the main street, and like clockwork, he’d started following you. Again.

You weren’t scared of him—just frustrated, irritated that you even had to hide in the first place. If he’d been some asshole trying to hurt you, that would’ve been simple. But Jesse wasn’t a threat. He was just persistent. Too damn persistent.

You shifted your weight, preparing to move toward the alley that ran behind the houses, when you stepped back—right into something solid.

Someone.

A firm hand caught your shoulder, keeping you from stumbling. Your heart jumped into your throat as you turned sharply, ready to shove whoever it was.

Then you saw him.

Negan.

Even in the dim light, you could see the familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth his eyebrows raised up in his forehead.

A familiar chuckle rumbled against you.

“Shit. Didn’t know I was in the fuckin’ way.”

It had been months since he was let out of that cell, and people still treated him like a caged animal, watching, waiting for him to snap. But you had never really been part of that crowd. Yeah, you knew what he’d done. Hell, everyone did. But he wasn’t just that guy anymore. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, not entirely. There were a glances, a few teasing comments, sometimes a wink from the distance, thrown in your direction that made you smile.

You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“No shit,” he said, raising a brow. “Damn near knocked me on my ass.” His eyes flicked over your shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost, or somethin’ worse.”

You hesitated, then exhaled through your nose, deciding it wasn’t worth hiding. “Jesse.”

Negan let out a low hum, tilting his head. “The kid with the stupid haircut?”

Despite yourself, a small amused snort escaped.

Negan grinned. “Figured. He’s been sniffin’ around you like a damn bloodhound.”

You groaned, crossing your arms. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant murmur of crickets filled the silence, and the flickering streetlights cast long shadows across the road.

Negan studied you, eyes sharp despite the lazy grin still lingering on his face. You knew what he was thinking—why the hell were you standing here, talking to him?

You weren’t sure how to answer that.

There were a lot of things about Negan that should’ve made you stay away. The past. The things he’d done. The lives he had taken.

And yet...

He wasn’t all bad.

People liked to paint him as a monster, as if that was all he’d ever been, but you had seen the cracks in that image. The way he’d helped Judith. The way he had stayed, even when he could have run. The way he looked at you now—not as someone beneath him, but as someone worth listening to.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t catch yourself checking him out more than once. He was older than you, yet he looked good. Too damn good you’d say.

But you’d never make a move though. You were too much of a pussy. You were scared about what people would think if they saw you making hearts eyes at Negan. People in Alexandria weren’t the ones to forget easily.

You sighed shaking the thought away. “He won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s pissing me the fuck off.” You saw his expression shift into something more serious. He understood.

You crossed your arms. “If I have to tell him one more time, I swear—”

“There you are.”

The sound of Jesse’s voice made your stomach twist. You turned just in time to see him step out from between two houses, his silhouette cutting against the dim glow of a porchlight. His eyes flicked to Negan, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

“What’s this?” Jesse asked, stepping closer. “Didn’t know you and him were friends.”

You exhaled through your nose and stepped forward. “Jesse, go home.”

Jesse’s smile didn’t budge. If anything, it got wider, but there was something mean curling at the edges now. “Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, like he was the victim here. “I just wanted to talk. You’ve been dodging me all day.”

“For a reason.” You folded your arms, feeling your patience run out. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Jesse’s smile thinned. His eyes flickered to Negan, and something in them darkened, like he was sizing up a threat. Which was stupid. Negan wasn’t even doing anything—yet. Just watching carefully.

“You got a problem, old man?” Jesse finally said, turning his full attention on him and moved closer.

Negan lifted a brow, tilting his head slightly. “Old man? Shit, kid, you got a death wish?”

Negan gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. “In the matter of fact i do have a fucking problem. Y’know, I don’t usually waste my time on little pricks with Napoleon complexes, but you’re really pushin’ it. The lady said no, so why don’t you skedaddle?”

Fuck he really didn’t want to cause trouble, he just got out of that freaking cell, but this asshole was asking for it. And to be truthful, Jesse wasn’t the only one sniffing around Y/n. Thought he’d never made a move. He didn’t want to cross that thin line because it could’ve burned him.

Jesse scoffed, puffing out his chest like he actually had something to prove. “Yeah? You’re gonna do something about it?”

“I just might.” Negan drawled lowly

This situation was getting ridiculous. That wouldn’t bring to nothing good, might even get Negan in trouble after.

“You two done measuring who’s balls are bigger? Jesse just go.”

“No no,” he waved his hand in the air dramatically “If gramps wanna prove a point here, let him do it.”

Negan let out a low chuckle shaking his head.

You blinked and It happened.

Negan swung first.

The punch cracked across Jesse’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. He staggered, but he recovered quick, launching himself at Negan with a snarl. The two of them collided hard, boots scraping against the dirt as they grappled. Jesse was younger, maybe even faster, but that didn’t stop Negan anyway.

“No stop it!” You yelled

But none of them morons listened. You watched as he twisted, using Jesse’s own momentum against him, slamming him into the side of the tool shed with a heavy thud. Jesse grunted, throwing a punch that clipped Negan’s jaw his head jerking to the side.

The men were caught in a fight of fists and kicks trying to knock each other on the ground.

You groaned. “Are you two actually serious right now?”

You had to end this before it attracted people’s attention.

You grabbed at Jesse’s shirt pulling him away from Negan and pushed him away, making Jesse stumble a few feet back.

“Stop!” You shoved Negan’s chest, not hard, just enough to make him step back. Negan ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, tasting the blood on his tongue, a smug look on his face as he looked over Jesse. You stayed at Negan’s side also breathing heavily. “I’m telling you one more time to leave, before I personally will kick your ass.” You hissed

Jesse wiped at his mouth, breathing hard. His eyes burned with anger, but there was something else too—humiliation. He’d lost, and he knew it.

“You really chose to hang around with him?” Jesse spat, glaring between the two of you.

He clenched his fists, jaw tightening like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it. With one last sharp glare at you, he turned and stalked off, disappearing into the night.

You let out a slow breath, tension draining from your shoulders. “Fucking finally.”

Negan let out a low grunt, rubbing his jaw where Jesse’s punch had landed. “Little shit’s got a mean right hook. Weak as hell, but gotta give him credit for effort.”

You shot him a look. “Oh, yeah? You want me to call him back so you two can go another round?”

Negan smirked. “Nah, sweetheart. ‘Less you’re offerin’ to nurse me back to health.” His brows waggled playfully. “Got a soft touch, do ya?”

You rolled your eyes, but truth be told, he did look like he needed something for that bruised cheek. You sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice before your face swells up.”

Negan blinked, then let out a short laugh. “You serious?”

“Yeah.” You turned, leading the way toward your house. “You helped me out. Least I can do.”

“Well, shit,” he muttered under his breath, following you. “Didn’t expect a goddamn reward.”

You made your way through the quiet streets of Alexandria, the houses standing still and silent under the dim glow of streetlights. Most people were asleep by now, save for the occasional guard patrolling the walls. The air smelled of damp wood and earth, a reminder of the earlier rain. Your footsteps were soft against the dirt path, and Negan walked just behind you, his presence oddly steady.

Your house was on the smaller side, tucked away near the edge of the community. When you stepped up onto the porch and unlocked the door, Negan let out a low whistle. “Nice place.”

You flicked on a lantern, casting a warm glow over the space. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy—worn wooden floors, a couch, with a coffee table, a big book shelf. A few personal touches here and there. It wasn’t one of the biggest houses in Alexandria, but you lived alone so it was enough for you.

He plopped down onto the couch with a satisfied groan, stretching his legs out.

You wrapped some ice in a cloth, shaking your head as you walked back to the living room. Negan was sprawled out on your couch like he owned the damn place, one arm draped over the back, his long legs stretched out. He had that cocky smirk on his lips.

Asshole. He was definitely been staring at your ass.

You sat next to him, tilting his chin with your free hand and pressing the ice pack to his cheek without warning.

“Shit—” he hissed through his teeth. “Be gentle woman, i’m wounded.” He pouted softly in a joking manner and you rolled your eyes.

Carefully, you adjusted the ice, holding it steady against his bruised cheek. You hadn’t even realized how gentle you were being with him—how your fingers weren’t just holding the ice, but brushing lightly against his skin, how you weren’t pulling away even though you probably should’ve.

Your eyes trailed his features from up close. Fuck why did he have to look this good? Those dark eyes, the gray stubble that covered his chiseled jaw and the greying hair. The dimple lines under his beard complimenting his face.

Negan noticed.

His smirk faded slightly, his gaze darkening as it flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

You noticed that. Trying to ignore the heat increasing in your body from his intense gaze you broke the silence “thank you though… it was idiotic, but at least i got rid of Jesse for a while.” You murmured.

“You don’t have to thank me doll. Didn’t know I was gettin’ a reward, though. Gotta say… I like this part.” His voice dipped lower, rich with something you didn’t want to put a name to.

You swallowed, but didn’t pull away.

His smirk deepened, but his expression wasn’t just cocky—it was searching, reading between the lines. He always did that, looking at people like he could see right through them. And right now? He was seeing through you.

“You’re real fuckin’ soft for me, huh?” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly.

What were you supposed to say? Your eyes found his and for a moment you froze.

Negan’s smirk disappeared entirely, his lips parting slightly. He didn’t pull away—didn’t tease, didn’t throw out another crude joke. He just sat there, waiting, letting you make the choice.

And hell, you made it.

Your lips met his, slow at first—uncertain. But Negan? He wasn’t the uncertain type.

A low sound rumbled from his chest, and suddenly his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in like he’d been waiting for this just as much as you had. His lips moved against yours, rough but deliberate, like he wanted to take his time.

And you? You melted into it, the ice in your hands long forgotten and dropped on the floor, your hands moving to cup his face.

He pulled away after a moment looking at you through hooded eyes “That another way of yours to thank me?” His tone was huskier than usual .

“Can you just shut the hell up for a moment?” You asked breathlessly

He smirked “ yes ma’am.” He murmured before his lips claimed yours again.

Your fingers curled into his navy blue shirt, pulling him closer without even realizing it. The heat of his body was solid against yours, his scruff scratching your skin making a pleasant tingly feeling, as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, deepening the kiss just enough to make your stomach flip.

You leaned in, your hand moved to his hair, and the other one slid down his body. Negan made a low noise in his throat, and the hand on your neck slid down to your waist, fingers pressing against your hip dragging you onto his lap.

You obliged, straddling him, the room feeling with your soft sighs and the most delicious wet nosies of your lips moving against each others.

You could feel him reacting to your touch, his erection pressing against your ass and you couldn’t help but grind against him trying to cause at least some friction.

The motion made him whimper in your mouth, as he broke the kiss to look at your face, his pupils blown with lust, his brows furrowed, all panting and wanting, aching with need.

The look on his face made you moan, a low breathless sound. And the sound made him twitch under you. Your lips nipped gently at his neck, kissing up his throat, making his head fall back with a low groan escaping from his lips.

His hands rested on your thighs gripping harder than before as he spoke his voice low and rough “You’re making it real hard to behave myself here, doll..” in a swift motion he was on top of you, his lips attached to your your skin, as you both tried to get rid of your clothes.

He was more eager than he intended, but years being locked up and now having such a pretty thing underneath him, acting so needy for him, was driving him mad.

Your shirt was now on the floor so was his. Swiftly he undid the zipper of your jeans and pulled them aside leaving you only in your underwear. He ran his hands ran up you legs, feeling the smoothness of your skin. His touch gentle making goosebumps raise all over your body.

“Fuck look at you…” he breathed out, taking you in, laid down beneath him “so fucking beautiful..”

You had a moment to admire him too, his tattoo covered skin, chest arms, the slim yet muscular body, the v line with a happy trail that leaded right in his boxers, before he dipped his head down his lips attaching to your neck again, his beard scraping your soft skin.

His hands moved up your inner thighs, his touch making you tremble slightly under him, your hips bucking up involuntarily. He pushed your panties aside His eyes gazed over the curves of your form, your glistening cunt ready for him. his fingers finding your slick folds and he moaned lowly at the wetness between your legs.

“So wet f’me.” his fingers traced along the delicate skin of your pussy, collecting the slick on his thick, your back arching your hips pushing up to press against his calloused fingers- then bringing them up to his mouth to taste your arousal with a satisfied hum.

“Negan…” you panted “don’t tease.”

“Patience is a fucking virtue.” He teased before with one hand he reached down in his boxers freeing his hard cock, the tip pressing against your entrance making both of you moan.

“Yeah and you’re so fucking vice. Just fuck me already!” You hissed nudging your heel against his ass. But you knew he wanted to tease you more. He chuckled lowly but let out a low curse as you grabbed his shoulders and switched the position, pushing him down onto the couch, making him grunt in surprise his back hitting the cushions.

“Bossy are we?” He teased.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, your slick folds parting around his thick shaft. You gasped softly at the stretch, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length.

“Fuck..” he sighed as he heard the sweet sounds of your voice, his hips moving in a steady peace giving you time to adjust.

You followed that rhythm, gradually increasing your pace but never bouncing up and down on him. You wanted him to relish in each movement as you rode him, wanted to hear his pleasure.

As if Negan doesn’t feel cocky enough, the mere sight of you riding him makes him even more emboldened. Bringing eyes veiled with lust back to you, he reached around to grasp your ass, guiding your movements. “That’s it baby, you feel so fucking good.” He praised “fuck you’ll be the death of me, at least I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

He watched as your breasts bounced with each thrust. Your mouth agape, your eyes half-linded and skin flushed. It was a sight worth to die for.

But the peace you set was driving him mad, he wanted more.

He sat up, switching the position once more, before he slammed back into you. As your walls enveloped him completely, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

Those sounds coming out of your mouth didn’t seem to belong to you. You whimpered and moaned with every thrust. He filled you perfectly, fucked you perfectly. He was rough but not too rough for your taste, looking at you with adoration, hunger and possession combined.

His low hoarse voice in your ear, saying how good you were for him, how perfect and beautiful and all kind of praises between low grunts and pants feeling how his words affected you as you clenched around him.

“Cmon baby, let go for me.” He panted, his lips nipping at your skin moving down to your breast sucking on it, and feeling you arch.

“Yes—God!” Was the only thing you could gasp out. Your head fell back, his name slipping past your lips as he fucked you through your orgasm, his own release following immediately after his hips coming to a stop as he filled her up.

He looked down at you a lazy smile stretched on his lips, and let out a content sigh as he pulled out. He stole a small kiss from you and gave your bare ass a slight pinch making you whimper in his mouth before, he slumped down on the couch next to you careful not crash you. His arm snuck around your waist pulling you against him

“Well that was fucking amazing.” He grinned lazily, turning to look at you as you rested your head on his chest, your fingers tracing his skin.

The quiet of the room was now broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. It was surreal—this whole situation felt like it shouldn’t be happening.

You rested your head on his chest, the rhythm of his breath calm, slow. His hand rested gently on your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You alright?” He murmured looking down at you.

“Mhmm..” you hummed once more, rolling on top of him with a smile you hand tracing his tattooed chest.

Negan chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath you. “Shit, if this is what I get for throwin’ one punch, I might have to start pickin’ more fights.”

You swatted at his side, rolling your eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

Negan grinned, tilting his head slightly as he studied you. “Yeah? And here I thought you were startin’ to like havin’ me around. Or it was just it then? A pity fuck?” He joked arching a brow.

You let out a huff. “No.”

“Then it means you like me?” His grin stretched wider chasing your lips but you pulled away and threw him a half annoyed half amused glare but didn’t reply anything.

You stood up from the couch making him sigh dramatically, as he watched you move across the room, his eyes trailing your body and admired your bare ass from his laid position. He bit his lip at the view you were giving him.

You stopped in the doorway looking over your shoulder seeing how his gaze traveled your body hungrily, and you smirked.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Wanna join?” You threw him a sly look.

Shit, you were gonna be the death of him.

Negan’s eyes glinted with amusement, a wicked grin creeping up on his face. “Hell, I’m not one to turn down an invitation like that.”

[otakubimbo]

Reset

Logan Howlett (Worse Logan) x AFAB Mutant Reader !

Slight Angst. SLOW Burn. Minors DNI!

It’s finally time to leave your apartment. Of course you get an unexpected visitor, but it’s not exactly unwelcome. Well kind of.

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You have been so busy lately, dealing with a breakup and getting Caleb's things out of your house, and the gallery showing everything in your apartment was a mess. This was no way for you to live, and you finally had the time to take care of it. The blinds and windows in your apartment were wide open, allowing fresh air and sunlight to get in, keeping the fumes from suffocating you and getting the dust out. Your noise-cancelling headphones were on and blasting. Nothing was going to distract you from getting your apartment together, or so that was what you thought.

Meanwhile, in the Wade, Blind Al, and Logan abode. Blind Al shuffles into the apartment, an annoyed huff leaving her lips.

“She’s at it again,” Al complains, plopping on the couch next to Logan as he’s nursing a beer. He slightly raises an eyebrow at her but doesn’t ask any questions. “The girl loves to sing while she cleans, but she can’t hold a damn note to save her life. Only does it when she’s cleaning. Love the girl, but ain’t shit worse than hearing someone screech at the top of their lungs.”

Logan thought he could faintly hear some singing from the apartment, but he chose to ignore it like he did every other noise he heard.

“Wade usually goes and reminds her that she’s being too loud before the people across the hall come banging on her door and another feud starts.”

“Well too bad Wade’s not here” Logan responded taking a sip of his beer. Even though Al was blind it still felt like her gaze was boring into the side of his face, she wasn’t even facing him.

“The last time they were in feud, we didn’t have power for a week. She is petty but not an electrician.” Al comments again giving Logan a shove. Yeah, Logan could figure that you probably were really petty. He mulls it over for a second until realizing that if something like that occurred again it would end up inconveniencing him in more of an annoying way more than anything else and he really didn’t want that.

He grumbles before standing, “Fine” finishing chugging his beer before exiting the apartment, making his way down the hall to yours. The closer he got, the clearer he could hear what you were singing. Blind Al was right, though; you were completely tone deaf and extremely loud. He smirks to himself as he starts knocking on your door. After a few moments with no answer, he sighs. He should have known you wouldn’t be able to hear him. Looks like he would have to break in.

Inside your apartment, you had already stacked your laundry to take downstairs while you finished mopping your floor. Although, currently you were using the mop as a microphone while Little Too Late by Jojo blasts through your headphones as you sing the chorus at the top of your lungs, eyes closed having your own little performance.

You were at the part about to sing the high-note, you cut yourself off mid-note as you see out of the corner of your eye your front door opening. On instinct, you grab the knife you keep on yourself at all times, dropping the mop turning to stab the intruder. Your knife sinks into the neck of who you thought was an intruder to look and see that it was Logan.

“Oh my god Logan what the fuck” You yank the knife from his neck as blood splatters everything, your focus then shifts to the blood everywhere “My floors! I just cleaned these. Fucking hell Logan” Your headphones half way fall of your head as you drop your knife.

“Didn’t think you would stab me.” He chuckles grabbing his neck as it starts healing itself.

“Why the fuck would I not stab you? You just broke into my apartment!” You scold him as you grab the first thing on the top of your laundry to attempt to wipe the blood off of him.

“You were banshee screeching in here, and Al said you have an outgoing war with the neighbors down the hall.” He scoffs, watching you frantically clean the blood off him as he catches a whiff of what you were cleaning him off with. In your rush, you didn’t realize that you had grabbed a pair of your panties. You were cleaning him off with a pair of your dirty panties. And the smell of your panties, unfortunately for him, was intoxicating. His hand reaches out, grabbing your wrist while snatching the garment out of your hand before you can notice, throwing it back into the basket.

“It’s not the first or last time I’ll be covered in my own blood; it’s fine,” He says as he bends down to grab the mop you dropped.

“Still,” You sigh before grabbing the mop from his hands, placing it into the water-filled bucket, “My bad.” Before you can start mopping, he grabs the mop back from you and starts cleaning up his own blood. You huff as you watch him clean up the mess. A new song started playing on your headphones that you weren’t even paying attention to while you watched him clean until the chorus of another song catches the both of your attention.

‘ For you to finally say that I can be your girl. And you can be my man. And we can finally fuck without a condom. Lets f---” before the song could finish the chorus you hit the side of your headphones, stopping the song.

“interesting music you listen to” Logan smirks at you as he finishes cleaning up the rest of his blood. You snatch the mop back from him.

“You can tell Al I’ll keep it down for the peace, thank you.” You say with a roll of your eyes. Logans eyes scan across your cleaned apartment noticing the painting that Joelle gifted you leaning on your wall as if you were going to put it up. A small scowl forms on his face as your eyes follow his gaze.

“Oh yeah I was planning on taking some of my own down and putting that up.” You say casually with a shrug. As you look back at him from the painting, there was a weird tension in the room.

“Can you help me put it up?” The question leaves your lips, in a softer tone than you expected it to.

Logan wrinkles his nose before he huffs in agreement. You straighten up the rest of your apartment as he uses your tools to replace your paintings with the gift from Joelle. Occasionally, you would steal glances at him watching as his bank muscles flexed as he hammered wholes into your wall, measuring and making sure it would align correctly on your wall . There really was nothing sexier than watching a man do physical labor.

When he’s finished it’s hung up perfectly, you happily sigh at how well it looks in your apartment. It truly was something that you loved looking at, you didn’t know how you were going to thank Joelle for gifting it to you. At the thought, you pull your phone out taking a picture of it, sending it to Joelle with another message of thanks. The two of you have been texting here and there, he’s been busy, you’ve been busy, and he practically was a stranger.

You happily clap your hands together, smiling at Logan. “Thank you” the grin spreading on your face and the bright gleam in your eyes makes Logan feel some type of way that he can’t put his finger on. Suddenly you remember something, telling Logan to hold on as you rush to your room. Logan takes the moment to actually look around your apartment. It was different from the last time he was here. The small space felt more alive, vibrant, more…. You. He guesses you must have made changes since you weren’t dating that loser ex anymore. It was nice. As he was taking in your space you appear back from your room holding an article of clothing. It was a jacket, his jacket, the jacket that he put around you the night of your showing.

“Your jacket” you say, extending it out for him to take back. He just shakes his head.

“Got enough jackets, just keep it” he says casually, remembering how it looked on you that night, how beautiful you were even underneath the dingy streetlights. A frown forms on his lips, causing you to tilt your head in confusion at him. It was dangerously cute.

“I should go,” he abruptly commands before you can even say anything.

“Oh uhm yeah sure” confusion in your voice evident as he makes his way to your door, “I’ll make sure to keep it down” Logan just responds with what seems to be an approving grunt. Before Logan opens the door to leave your phone rings and you answer it instinctively without looking to see who was calling.Logans hand freezes on the doorknob when he hears a male voice on the other end of the call that he’s sounds too familiar.

“Oh hey Joelle,” a cheeriness in your voice that Logan wasn’t happy to hear accompanied with that man’s name. Your eyes look to Logan, who froze in place, you were going to tell Joelle to hold for a second but as you went to speak Logan just opened the door and left. The action left you even more confused and speechless. You don’t even realize Joelle is speaking to you until he calls your name repeatedly.

“Sorry” you quickly apologize, “I was just doing a reset on my place and just got a bit distracted”

He chuckles smoothly, his voice deep and rich “it’s no problem, sweetheart. I was just asking that if you really wanted to thank me you would let me take you out on a date”

You pull your phone back from your ear blinking at it a few times, before putting it back up to speak “you want to take me out on a date?”

“Yes,” he chuckled again at the surprise in your voice, “ I would love nothing more than to take a beautiful and talented woman on a date.”

He stared it so matter of factly it had you stuttering like an idiot, “uhm yeah sure, I would really like that. I would really like to go out on a date with you.”

“Wonderful. We can talk more about it later. I’ll let you get back to your cleaning”

“Yeah, okay okay. Bye”

“Bye darlin” he says before hanging up in that unmistakeable southern drawl of his. You almost melt at the spot, a dumb goofy smile plastered on your face as you give a little squeal moving to go ahead and grab your laundry because now you were definitely going to need to go through your closet. As you hike the basket up on your hip, your eye catches a glimpse of the fabric that you used to wipe off the blood from Logan. Now that you’re getting a good look at it, the smile you had on your face immediately dropped to a look of abject horror and embarrassment. It was your underwear, your fucking underwear, you wiped blood off your sexy neighbor with your underwear! You slam your head against your door, what the fuck

Back at Wade, Blind Al, and Logan’s apartment. Logan annoyingly enters back into the apartment.

“Well hello there honey badger,” Wades voice hits Logan’s ears and it’s one of the last things he wants to hear “oh were you on interview with a vampire? What’s up with the bloody neck?”

Logan just ignored Wades questioning, grabbing a beer from the fridge and plopping down on the couch. Al leans over, sniffing Logan.

“You smell like blood and pussy, I told you to tell her to keep it down not do whatever the hell yall did.” Al says disgusted.

An annoying grin starts spreading on Wades because he knew exactly who the ‘her’ in question was. Logan rolled his eyes.

“Ain’t nothing happen. She stabbed me.”

Wade barks out a laugh, “ I knew she was a lil freak. I just didn’t expect you to go along with it.”

Logan huffs before slamming his beer on the table. The only way to escape this nonsense was just to leave. He grabs his coat and heads to the door ignoring all the bullshit Wade was saying. Once out the door, Logan does consider going back to your apartment but then a flash of your face when you picked up your phone for Joelle just irritates him more. Fucking Joelle.

[itsaleiah]

earned it | gojo satoru x fushiguro reader

[ anora series over here ! ]

warnings: nsfw, smut, slight angst.

THE CITY OUTSIDE IS QUIET, a breeze from the open window stirs the curtains, casting fleeting shadows across the sheets. You’re tangled wth the love of your life in the sheets - the scent of his skin still lingering on yours. The rise and fall of his chest against your back is steady, soothing, just as his love is for you

Then, his voice cuts through the silence, lazy and certain.

“You should be a model.”

You let out a quiet snort, eyes still closed. “Don’t joke like that.”

“I’m not joking,” Toru murmurs, shifting so he’s propped up on one elbow beside you. His fingers trail absentmindedly along your arm, light and teasing. “You’re beautiful. And you walk like you own every room you step into.”

You roll over onto your back, meeting his gaze. His blindfold is nowhere to be seen, per what he said: “I want you to see the real me.”Those crystal eyes watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. But there’s no teasing smirk, no exaggeration—just quiet, genuine Gojo Satoru.

You shake your head. “Toru—”

“I’m serious.” His hand reaches out, tilting your chin so you don’t look away. “You’d be incredible. A pageant queen, even. You have the face, the presence, that kind of elegance people can’t look away from.”

Your fingers tighten against the sheets. A part of you wants to brush it off, to laugh and pretend it’s just him sweet-talking you again. But another part—the one that still carries the weight of your past—hesitates.

“…I don’t know.” Your voice is quieter this time.

He doesn’t push, just smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Just think about it, okay?”

And you do.

⸻

Satoru makes a few calls, and suddenly, you’re in a studio with bright lights shining down, a photographer adjusting his lens.

“Okay, beautiful, let’s start with some headshots!”

Your boyfriend is there, of course—lounging off to the side like he owns the place, grinning like what he said: “I’m a non-showbiz boyfriend now!”

“You got this, babe!” he calls, shameless and proud.

You roll your eyes, but when you turn to the camera, something in you shifts. There’s a flicker of confidence, a quiet kind of power.

Click.

And just like that, you take your first step toward something new.

The next few months blur into something you never expected—endorsements, magazine shoots, interviews. You go from an unknown face to a rising name in the industry. Brands start reaching out. You see yourself on billboards, on posters at beauty stores, even on TV commercials.

It’s overwhelming at times, stepping into a world you never thought you belonged in. But Satoru is always there—cheering the loudest, hyping you up before shoots, even helping you practice poses at home - “Baby, I was born for the runway,” he jokes, strutting around dramatically).

And Megumi? He’s supportive in his own quiet way. He doesn’t say much, but he watches every commercial, every photoshoot release. Tsumiki, on the other hand, is your biggest fan. She gushes about your photos, sending you encouraging texts before big shoots.

Then, the invitation arrives.

Miss Japan.

-

You stare at the email for what feels like hours before showing Gojo.

“Miss Japan?” he whistles, flipping your phone around in his hand. “I mean, I did say you’d make a great pageant queen.”

You laugh, shoving his shoulder. “I haven’t even decided if I’m doing it yet.”

“You will.” He grins, booping your nose. “Because you’re amazing, and they know it.”

And he’s right. Because weeks later, you find yourself in the thick of it—training, rehearsing, preparing. You’re one of the top contenders, a favorite among fans. It’s surreal, seeing people root for you, admire you.

Even outside of pageants, you’re being noticed.

One evening, you and Gojo are at a café, just trying to have a quiet date. But the moment you step inside, whispers ripple through the crowd.

“That’s her, right?”

“She’s even prettier in person!”

“Should I ask for an autograph?”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling eyes on you. Gojo notices immediately, reaching across the table to take your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Then, a young girl hesitantly approaches. “E-Excuse me… can I have your autograph? I think you’re really inspiring.”

Your breath catches. Inspiring.

You take the offered notebook, signing your name with a small smile. “Thank you.”

As the girl walks away, Gojo smirks. “Told you you’re a star.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.” But deep down, you feel something warm settle in your chest.

Maybe… maybe you really are meant for this.

⸻

The night of the fashion show, your hands are shaking.

You stand backstage, surrounded by models, stylists, and flashing lights. The sound of the crowd buzzes from beyond the curtain, a wave of noise threatening to drown you.

Breathe.

You clutch the fabric of your gown, heart hammering. Suddenly, memories creep in—being paraded around as a child, being told how to look, how to act, how to be. The feeling of being used.

Your chest tightens. You can’t do this.

Then—your phone vibrates.

Toru.

You got this, baby. Breathe in, breathe out. Own that stage.

A shaky exhale leaves your lips. You close your eyes.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The announcer calls your name.

Your legs move before your brain catches up, stepping onto the runway. The lights hit you instantly, blinding, overwhelming—until you remember who you are now.

You are not the scared little girl from before. You are strong. You are wanted. You are seen.

And as you walk, back straight, eyes forward, the audience holds their breath.

You own the moment.

-

The flash of cameras, the roar of applause—it all still rings in your ears as you step through the door of your shared apartment. You’re still high from the adrenaline of your first major runway show, dressed in an oversized coat thrown over the lingerie set you just modeled. The silky fabric clings to your skin, reminding you of the confidence you felt strutting down the runway, the way the world was at your feet.

But now, all of that fades into the background, because the moment you see Gojo, his piercing blue eyes watching you from the couch, you know the real show is just beginning.

The moment you step through the door, heels clicking against the marble floor, you barely have time to take a breath.

He looks relaxed, spread out lazily, but there’s an intensity behind his gaze—a hunger that sends a shiver up your spine. He’s been waiting for you. And from the way his jaw clenches, you can tell he’s been stewing in his own thoughts.

“You were incredible out there, baby,” he murmurs, standing up and slowly approaching. His voice is soft, but there’s a dark edge to it. “So beautiful… so confident. Had all those eyes on you.”

You swallow hard as he reaches you, towering over you, his fingers brushing the collar of your coat. “Satoru—”

He hums, tilting his head. “But I didn’t like how they were looking at you.” His fingers grip the fabric, tugging it down your shoulders, revealing the lace beneath. “All those men getting to see you like this…” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head before locking eyes with you. “It’s not fair, is it?”

Your breath hitches when his hands trail down your arms, pushing the coat off completely. You’re left in nothing but the lingerie set, the cool air making your skin prickle.

“But it doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, voice turning husky. “Because they can look all they want, but only I get to have you like this.”

“Bedroom. Now,” he orders, voice rough, filled with a need that makes your breath hitch.

You don’t get the chance to walk. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you down the hall before tossing you onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His blindfold is already off, discarded somewhere along the way, and those electric blue eyes—darkened with hunger—hold you captive as he loosens his tie.

“On your knees, princess.”

Your pulse quickens. He never calls you that unless he’s feeling possessive.

You obey, shifting onto your knees, watching as he pulls his tie free, looping it between his fingers before he grabs your wrists and binds them together.

“Tying me up, Satoru?” you breathe, feigning innocence even as desire pools between your thighs.

“Can’t have my pretty model touching me when I’m still so jealous,” he says, wrapping the silk around your wrists securely before guiding them above your head, pinning you against the headboard. His lips trail down the column of your throat, sucking a dark mark just beneath your jaw. “You showed off for them…” He moves lower, biting the swell of your breast just hard enough to make you gasp. “Now, you’re going to show me who you really belong to.”

And then he’s everywhere.

His hands roam, pulling the silk slip down your body, baring you inch by inch. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, lips and teeth marking every place that belongs to him. By the time he finally slides inside you, stretching you open with slow, deep thrusts, your fingers are trembling against the restraints.

“You feel that?” he groans, pulling your legs around his waist, forcing you to take him deeper. “They got to see you—but only I get to have you like this.”

His pace is relentless, his name falling from your lips in broken moans as he takes what’s his. Each movement is a brand, a silent vow, a possessive claim—because while the world may admire you, only he gets to worship you like this.

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby,” he growls against your throat, teeth grazing over your pulse. “Watching you on that stage, knowing I’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this…”

You whimper, arching into him, legs wrapping around his waist. “Please, Satoru—”

He chuckles, dark and low. “Please what? Use your words, sweetheart.”

You whine, squirming beneath him, already feeling the ache of need pooling between your thighs. “Need you to be rough with me.”

He groans at that, his grip tightening on your thighs. “Yeah? You want that, baby?”

You nod frantically, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes—please.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.And he doesn’t hold back. He grips your waist with bruising force, pulling you onto him with every thrust, filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin, with the sinful moans spilling from your lips.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, voice ragged as he drives deeper, rougher, just like you begged him to. “This is mine. You’re mine.”

You sob his name, your body surrendering completely to the overwhelming pleasure, letting him take you however he pleases. He praises you between filthy words, telling you how perfect you are, how much he loves you, how no one else could ever have you like this.

And when you finally reach that peak, crying out as pleasure crashes over you, he follows soon after, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural moan.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. But then, just as quickly as he was rough, he shifts, his touch turning gentle, hands smoothing over your heated skin.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jaw

You nod, still breathless, and he smiles, rolling onto his side to pull you into his arms. His fingers trace lazy circles on your back as he kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers. “You were amazing tonight. You deserve everything.”

You melt into his warmth, your body sore but your heart full. And as he continues to murmur sweet praises, as he holds you close, you realize—no matter how big the world gets, no matter how many people cheer your name, this will always be your safe place. Right here, in his arms.

⸻

EXTRA SCENE:

Back at home, Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki are gathered around the TV, watching the live broadcast.

The moment you step out, Tsumiki gasps. “She looks so beautiful!”

Megumi nods, his expression unreadable—but the way his lips twitch upward says enough.

Satoru? He’s beaming.

“That’s my girl,” he says proudly, arms crossed, head tilted as he watches you command the stage.

And when the cameras catch you flashing that radiant, confident smile, he chuckles.

“I knew she was born for this.”