#and trying to make it fun again just feels like forcing the issue

[gregmarriage]

i’m back temporarily, bc it’s my birthday in an hour and a half, and i’m having a mini breakdown, hehe x

[mischievousmoony]

𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an exposé on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[alyakthedorklord]

Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions™ and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, (or hit with some kind of drug while out saving the world) and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Three

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

The club is alive with music, lights flickering in time with the heavy bass. The energy of the place should feel electric, but the tension at your table casts a shadow over the atmosphere. You’re sitting in a booth, a drink in your hand, and Luis’s arm draped over your shoulders.

Across from you, Mapi sits, her posture stiff as she debates something with Luis. The two of them have been at it for the past ten minutes, their words too low for you to make out but sharp enough to leave you exhausted.

You lean back against the booth, closing your eyes for a moment. It’s become glaringly obvious over the last few weeks that your best friend and your boyfriend can’t stand each other. When you asked them about it individually, they both denied it, but their actions tell a different story.

Luis mutters something under his breath, and Mapi’s jaw tightens. Her eyes dart to the bar where Ingrid and Frido are waiting for drinks, and suddenly, she stands up.

“I’m going to help Ingrid and Frido,” she announces, her tone clipped.

You furrow your brows, confused. “Mapi, they’re fine—”

But she’s already gone, leaving Luis to scoff.

“Typical,” he mutters, swirling the drink in his hand.

“What’s typical?” you ask, your voice laced with frustration.

“She always has to act like she knows everything,” Luis snaps, shaking his head.

You exhale sharply, trying to keep your annoyance in check. “Luis, can you not? It’s her birthday weekend, and we’re supposed to be having fun.”

He doesn’t respond, only taking a long sip from his drink.

Before you can press the issue, someone slides into the booth across from you. You look up to see Alexia, her signature grin plastered across her face.

“Hola, hermosa,” she greets you warmly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before flicking to Luis.

“And Linus,” she adds with a teasing smirk.

Luis stiffens beside you, his expression darkening. “It’s Luis.”

Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “Whatever.” She leans back casually, her eyes returning to you.

“You look upset,” she remarks, tilting her head. “What’s with the grumpy face?”

Before you can even open your mouth to respond, Luis cuts in, his voice icy. “It’s because you came over.”

You glare at him, your patience wearing thin. Alexia, however, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s it,” she says with a smirk. “I think she’s just not having much fun with you, and that’s not my fault.”

Luis’s jaw clenches, and he stands abruptly, grabbing your hand. “Come on. We’re dancing.”

You barely have time to protest as he pulls you toward the dance floor, leaving Alexia sitting there with an amused glint in her eyes.

---

The music is deafening as Luis leads you onto the packed dance floor. He pulls you close, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You try to lose yourself in the rhythm, but the tension from the booth lingers, weighing heavy on your chest.

Luis leans in to kiss you, and at first, you let him, hoping to smooth over the evening. But his grip on your waist tightens, and his kisses become more forceful, almost demanding.

“Luis, stop,” you mumble, your voice barely audible over the pounding music.

He doesn’t listen, his hands digging into your sides as he presses his lips against yours again.

“Luis,” you say more firmly, trying to push him away. “I said stop.”

But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he pulls you even closer, his grip almost bruising. Panic starts to rise in your chest as you struggle to get free.

Then, suddenly, he’s yanked away from you. You look up to see Alexia standing there, her expression thunderous.

“She said stop,” Alexia snaps, her voice cutting through the noise.

Luis glares at her, his face twisted in anger. “What the fuck? This has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me,” Alexia retorts, stepping between you and him. “When she’s clearly uncomfortable, I’m not going to just stand by and watch.”

Luis turns to you, his eyes pleading. “You’re going to let her talk to me like that? Say something!”

But you can’t. You’re frozen, your body trembling as the weight of the moment sinks in.

Alexia notices and steps closer to you, her stance protective. “Get lost, Luis,” she says coldly.

Luis stares at you for a moment longer, waiting for you to defend him. But when you don’t, he lets out a bitter laugh.

“Whatever. Have fun with her,” he spits before storming off, shoving his way through the crowd.

---

You stand there, still trembling as Alexia turns to you. Her face softens, and she places a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the music.

Before you can answer, Mapi appears, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she leads you back to the booth. Ingrid hands you a glass of water the moment you sit down, her expression filled with concern.

“Drink this,” she says softly.

You take small sips, your hands still shaking slightly. The events of the past few minutes replay in your mind, and you feel a lump forming in your throat.

“He’s an idiot,” Mapi mutters under her breath, but you don’t respond.

When you finally look up, you find Alexia watching you. But this time, her usual smugness is gone. Instead, she looks… worried. The intensity in her gaze makes your stomach flutter, though you quickly push the thought away.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction. “Really.”

Everyone at the table is still looking at you with concern, and you force a smile. “Let’s get some shots,” you suggest, your tone a little too bright. “I want to have fun.”

---

The next few hours blur together in a haze of alcohol and dancing. Normally, you don’t drink much, but tonight is different. You’re determined to drown out the tension, the frustration, and the lingering unease from earlier.

You’re on the dance floor again, this time with Mapi. The two of you are laughing, twirling, and letting loose. Everything feels vibrant and surreal, the lights spinning around you as the music pulses through your veins.

You feel someone behind you, their presence warm and steady. You turn to find Alexia, her smile softer than usual.

“Having fun?” she asks, leaning in close so you can hear her. Her breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face. Alexia grins and gives you a thumbs-up before the two of you start dancing together.

At some point, you turn around, your back against Alexia’s front. Her hands rest lightly on your waist, the touch gentle but grounding. It feels different—safe.

Then you feel her lips against your neck, soft and fleeting. Your breath catches as she whispers in your ear, “I’d be a better boyfriend than him.”

Her words send a shockwave through you. Your heart races, and your mind spins. You turn to face her, your eyes locking with hers.

For a moment, the world around you disappears. Her gaze drops to your lips, and she leans in slightly, her movements slow and deliberate.

Your breath hitches. Part of you wants to close the distance, to give in to the pull between you. But another part screams at you to stop, to remember Luis—even after everything.

You hesitate, your emotions warring within you. And Alexia waits, her eyes filled with something you can’t quite decipher.

[bananayuyu]

Cabin Fever [part 2]

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: fluff and smut

Word count: 9.7k

Summary: The third day of your trip brings a storm, and even more cramps. You try to navigate the day the best you can, but really you just need to be taken care of, in the way it matters most.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, period sex, use of a condom, reader has really bad cramps again, some mxm (Seonghwa and Hongjoong)

A/n: I have had such a fun time writing this part, thank you all for the response on part 1! I am falling in love with this cozy world and wish I could live in it for real. Thank you so much to the anon who requested a part 2! I hope you all enjoy <3

Series Masterlist | Next Part -> | Read it on ao3

Taglist: @pautiny27 @kierraperkins3 @yoonjikim @luvbit3z @pancake-freckle

You stretch over to find your phone, unhooking it from its charging cable. The light is dim through the window, the room looks almost hazy. Squinting at the screen, you see a missed text from Seonghwa asking if you're doing okay, sent an hour ago.

"It's almost 11:30, we should really get up," you yawn, poking Yunho in the ribs to get his attention. He has once again wrapped himself around you tightly, face buried in your hair, and you're not sure if he's even awake.

"No," he groans, his voice low and gravely. It sends a shudder through you, and all of the feelings from last night surface again. You can already feel the pains starting in your lower abdomen, the muscles cramping. You wish it could be night already and he could be making you feel good again.

"We can't just stay in here all day," you say, much as you sort of want to. But you also don't want to waste a day of your time with all of your other friends. Yunho just groans, not wanting to agree with you but knowing you're right. He's just so asleep still, so in the haze of sleeping next to you. He really just wants to stay like this, forever.

"Okay, well, I really have to pee," you say, giggling, peeling yourself off of him. He lets out a small sound of disappointment but doesn't stop you. You turn around and see his tousled hair, his puffy, sleepy eyes. You lean down and place a quick kiss on his temple before making your way to the bathroom, another pad in hand.

The cramps hit you again when you're sat on the toilet, and you double over, feeling light-headed. It doesn't seem like you're bleeding quite as hard as yesterday but you still feel awful, despite all of the restful sleep you got. You gingerly clean yourself up, holding onto the counter as you stand, pausing for a moment so you don't pass out. You sigh, trying not to feel the frustration. But it's hard not to.

When you open the door you are met with Yunho, his messy hair now covered up by his hoodie, his eyes still very sleepy.

"Sorry for taking so long," you say, assuming he really needed to pee. You aren't paying attention, the cramps overwhelming you.

"Hey, look," he says as you start walking past. When you do finally look back you see that he's brought you pain meds and a glass of water. Your face softens immediately.

"Oh, thank you," you say, taking them immediately.

"Are they bad today?" he asks, a hand on your cheek. You just nod. "Go lay down then."

"I wanna hang out with everyone, though," you pout, looking at the floor.

"Well, go lay in the living room then," he suggests.

"Okay," you mumble, heading that way with your glass of water in hand. He watches you walk away, an obvious discomfort and weakness in your body, and it makes his chest hurt. When you were friends in high school he really only saw you on your good days, when you were feeling okay. It wasn't until living with you that he really saw the worst of everything, the truth of your health issues. You never spoke of them often, never truly explained it to him. Living together had forced you to, and when he showed himself to be genuinely good at caring for you, you'd let him in a bit more. He knew you didn't like the idea of people seeing you at your sickest. He never gave much thought to the idea when he was younger, that some people's bodies are wracked with issues from the start, that they never get to know what it's like to be able to rely on your body to carry you through everything. You were so young; though you were the same age as most of the rest of the friend group, you'd always been seen as the baby. He certainly always thought of you as small, in need of protection. He didn't want to tell you that, because he knew you'd hate the idea. It didn't help that you were smarter than most of them, when it came to the practical and academic aspects of life. You were far more mature in many ways. But they had the healthy bodies; they were the ones who were able to move out at eighteen, to become financially independent. It would take you many more years, and two very supportive friends to live with you, before you could move out.

When you make it to the living room you plop down next to Ari and San, snuggling under a blanket. The cabin was colder than you expected, the sky outside still dark.

"Has it been like that all morning?" you ask Ari, staring out the window.

"It was actually raining for a while earlier, it just stopped maybe thirty minutes ago."

"Oh really? No wonder I slept in so long," you reply, sighing into the warmth of your blanket.

"Are you doing okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, but I still feel like crap," you say, frowning. Sipping your water you try to relax, try to get your mind away from how terrible your lower abdomen feels.

"Do you need any pain meds?" she asks you, her face showing obvious concern. Even San is turned towards you and looking worried.

"No, no, I just took some. Thank you though," you respond, squeezing her hand. "I should probably eat something though, I'm starving."

"I think Seonghwa and Hongjoong are making some lunch, I'll go get you some," San replies, standing up.

"Oh, you don't have to," you start, taken aback by the kindness of this almost total stranger. But he walks that way anyway, not stopping at your words.

"He's so freaking nice, what the hell," you say to Ari.

"I know," she laughs, shaking her head. "I almost can't believe it's real sometimes."

"Men just aren't usually like that," you say, and right then Yunho crosses the room, making brief eye contact with you. He heads towards the kitchen, looking like his mind is set on something.

"The guys in our friend group are," she replies.

"Well, that's true. I guess I should say, straight men aren't usually like that, especially if they aren't romantically interested in you," you clarify. "At least not in my experience in the world, and I barely interact with men or go out in public."

"I know, the amount of horrifying behavior I saw at college is crazy. And even now still at my work. I know so many people tried to warn me to be careful around men when I was growing up, but I did not realize just how scary it would be to be in the adult world and have a uterus," she replies. She looks at you, earnestly; how nice it is to have another girl in your group, who understands what it is to exist in the world in your bodies.

"Uteruses should be banned," you say, placing a hand on your stomach. "This thing needs to get the hell out of my body."

Ari laughs, the bright sound raising your spirits. "I would have taken it out for you myself years ago, if I could," she laughs, resting her head on your shoulder.

"What just, reached up inside and like, pulled it out?" you laugh.

"Girl, your mind goes to the strangest places. Now I can't get that visual out of my head," she laughs, a hand coming to rest over her eyes.

"I wish I could do it myself," you reply, "just like-" you reach your hand down and spread your legs, miming the action; you both break into giggles.

"What was that?" Yunho asks as he sits down next to you, a cup of tea in hand. He holds it out towards you, careful to hand you the handle so you don't burn your hands.

"Y/n just being her usual self," Ari replied, still laughing. Yunho just looked confused, sipping at his own cup of coffee.

"I was showing her how I'd remove my uterus, if I could. I wish someone could just reach up in there and take it out," you clarify.

"You should make Yunho do it, he's got big hands," she says.

"Ari!" you shriek, crumpling into a heap of laughter with her. Yunho's ears go red, and he clears his throat to try to calm himself.

"You two are something else," he says, turning away, looking for anyone else to make conversation with.

"Wait, did Yunho make you that cup of tea?" Ari asked you, and at the mention of his name his attention stayed put.

"Yeah," you reply, not sure why she's interested. "He makes me and Hwa tea and coffee like all the time."

"That's sweet. See, we're so lucky to have these boys. He's the perfect example of a straight man who has no romantic interest in you, but still takes care of you."

You know she means it earnestly, from the way a small smile creeps onto her lips, making her eyes crinkle at the corners. But you and Yunho both stop dead in your tracks, your throats simultaneously going dry.

"Yeah, true," you say, trying to be normal. Like this morning, when Seonghwa found you in bed together. The words come out rough and you try to swallow, but it hurts and your eyes squeeze shut for a moment. You take another sip of your tea, trying to appear calm.

"What, Yunho, did I say something weird?" Ari asks, and you look over to see his stony face, his eyes looking almost distant. Something about it makes your heart drop for a moment, and you don't know why. Something in you begs for him to act normal too, but you realize there's no point. No point in pretending like nothing happened, even if you don't know what it means.

"I need to tell you something," you whisper to Ari, your face just inches from her ear. She leans even closer, clearly excited by your tone. You drop your volume even lower, putting your hand over your mouth to block the sound from going anywhere else. "Last night he like, fingered me."

"What?!" she asks in a whisper, her eyes going wide with excitement.

"Shh, please keep your face normal," you beg her, knowing that isn't possibly going to happen. But you don't want everyone to find out this very second, you'd like it to stay between the two of you. Ari does her best to still her face, knowing you don't want to draw attention. At least it's fairly normal, for the two of you to share secrets. The boys have always respected when you two say something is just for your ears.

"Yeah I was like, hurting last night and he like, made me feel better," you whisper, you both breaking out into giggles.

"Girl," she says, clearly wanting you to continue.

"I'll tell you everything once there's not like twenty people in the room with us," you say, a goofy smile not leaving your face.

"Aww," she says poking your cheek, and you swat her hand away, jokingly rolling your eyes. Ari keeps looking between the two of you, observing the way his body seems drawn towards you even as he sits a bit away, his legs stretching out to meet yours. She has so many questions, seeing as you'd never mentioned having a crush on him. His crush on you had been obvious to her for a while, but she'd never really mentioned it. It always seemed that people in the group had crushes from time to time, due to everyone's closeness. But sometimes they passed, sometimes they came to nothing; sometimes those crushes seemed like little more than someone mistaking their strong love and affection as something more. It was one of the reasons your group of friends had stayed close for so long; no one really forced closeness or forced information out of one another. Everyone let each other be, and let the cards fall where they may. Sometimes she felt like it made you less close than you could be. But she knew it also meant no one felt stepped on or smothered.

***

After lunch was served the weather had cleared a bit, and Jongho suggested that everyone play a game of basketball out on the small court to the south of the cabin. Not one of you had plans for the day, and with the way the weather was behaving that was definitely a good thing. You and Ari laid on the couch together, barely overhearing the conversation unfolding. You knew even if you wanted to you couldn't go and play, and the warmth of the couch was a lifesaver against the damp coolness in the air. The rain was not unusual for the time of year, but you swore it never had been this cold during your cabin trips.

"Will you stay inside with me?" you asked her.

"Of course. I wouldn't leave you alone in here. Also, I don't really feel like getting hurt today. You know how competitive they all get," she laughs, holding up her arm and showing you a large cut on the underside.

"My god, what's that from?" you ask.

"Wooyoung pushed me when we were playing waterpolo by the falls, and I scraped my arm on one of the rocks."

"Of course it was him," you chuckle, taking a closer look. "Did you wash it out yesterday?"

"It's not really that deep, but yeah. I'm sure it'll heal quick. I just really don't feel like playing basketball on a wet, slick court."

"And it's so cold, I don't know why they feel like going outside."

"It's not that cold," she says, looking at you confused.

"Wait, really?" you ask. She shakes her head. "Ok well for some reason, I'm freezing."

"One sec," she says, getting up and taking a blanket from the other side of the bed. "Y/n is cold," she says to the group, pointing to you all curled up in your one blanket. Everyone grabs their remaining blankets and one by one, layer them on you.

"This is too much," you whine, but you can't deny you like the attention. You really appreciate the way they all joke around with you; it always makes you feel better.

When all of the boys headed out to play, you finally got a chance to tell Ari everything.

"Your periods are still that bad?" Ari asks you when you tell her how you were feeling the previous night. "You hardly ever mention it anymore."

"It's just, so normal at this point. I guess. I don't know, you know it isn't fun to talk about. Plus this one really has been extra bad. I haven't had one this bad in a while," you respond.

"Well I'm glad he was there to comfort you. You know you could have told everyone how you were feeling yesterday. You didn't have to pretend like you were fine at dinner."

"I don't know, Wooyoung's cousins are here and so is San, I don't really know any of them," you say.

"Let me assure you, San would not care. And I doubt Woo's cousins would either, I mean we've been around them before, they seem very kind. He wouldn't bring them around you if he thought they'd be weird about something as simple as that. I know Woo acts like he doesn't give a shit about anything, but he really cares about you. I overheard him asking Seonghwa this morning how you've been doing," she replies. You look at her tenderly, thankful she shared it with you. As much as you wish Wooyoung would just ask you, you know it's not his way. It warms your heart to know he cares.

"So, how long have you liked Yunho then?" she asks you.

"Dude, I literally don't know. I don't even know what I feel right now," you sigh, shaking your head at her. "I mean, he was really just helping ease my cramps, cause I basically begged him too. And I get fucking horny on my period, I don't know." You put your head in your hands. "I don't even know what words were coming out of my mouth last night."

"So is it just a sexual thing then?" she asks.

"I'm assuming that's how he feels, I mean he's never said anything to the contrary."

"No, I mean for you," she clarifies.

"I.. I don't know. I don't hook up with people, and he's like, one of my best friends, I-" you cut yourself off with a groan, head spinning. "I'm gonna develop feeling for him and he's not gonna feel the same and we live together and it's gonna be a fucking mess," you blurt out, your mind racing out of control.

"Y/n, that man loves you," Ari says, squeezing your shoulder.

"I know Ari, I'm not saying he'd be an asshole about it. But it would still be so awkward for me, and if you love someone platonically that doesn't just change overni-"

"No, he's in love with you," she cuts you off.

"He's said those words to you?" you ask her, incredulous.

"No, but it's obvious to anyone with eyes," she says. You squint questioningly in her direction, feeling like she's just saying what she thinks you want to hear. "Dude I'm serious, Seonghwa has told me about it, the way he is around you. If he's not in love with you then I don't know what it could be."

"He's dated like multiple people since we've known him though, that doesn't make sense," you reply.

"Not since moving in with you," she says. "Has he ever brought any girls over to hang out with? Or to hook up?"

"No," you say, head still spinning.

"That's not because of like, a house rule or something, right?"

"No, we talked about it, we're all okay with bringing people over. Hwa brings over guys sometimes. Well he did when we first moved in, not really this past year."

"But Yunho never has?" she asks again.

You shake your head. "That doesn't mean anything, Ari. He's barely even spoken to me this morning, anyway. He doesn't seem like he's in love. Seems like normal Yunho to me."

"He brought you tea," she says, smirking.

"Oh my god, he always does that," you say, rolling your eyes and also smiling. "I- I don't know how to feel."

"Would you do it again?" she asks. You nod. "Do you like, really really want to do it again?" she continues, making you laugh.

"Yeah," you say, hiding your face in your hands.

"Well, at least you know that. Don't stress about it," she says. "It can just be a fun little thing, it doesn't have to be life changing."

You sigh, soaking in her words. You know what she's saying is absolutely right; it's the kind of advice you'd probably be giving her if the tables were turned. But something about your night with Yunho meaning so little doesn't sit right with you.

"Can you please not tell anyone, not even San? For right now, I don't know what Yunho wants to say," you plead.

"Of course, you don't have to worry about that. I don't share things with San just cause he's my boyfriend, I don't think that's fair to my friends," she responds, hugging you.

"I'm so thankful you're here," you say, sighing comfortingly into her embrace.

"Me too. I love them all but they can be a lot," she says, and you both chuckle. Tucked into your layers of blankets you feel warm and cozy, and your chest feels lighter having told someone about your previous night.

***

Close to 3pm, the storm rolls back in to the area; the winds pick up, the clouds darken, and suddenly rain is pouring down. It sounds like the roof of the cabin is being repeatedly pelted with golfballs, the dull sound surprisingly loud. Suddenly all of the boys are sprinting back inside, their wet shoes squeaking on the tile of the kitchen floor. All of them are thoroughly soaked, their hair sticking to their foreheads, clothes stuck to their bodies. They tumble in one after the other, Wooyoung the last to make it in, and you hear his scream all the way from outside. When they finally get inside they all start undressing, their clothes heavy and cold.

"Didn't realize we were staying at a strip club," Ari says, making you laugh. You know they're just uncomfortable, but you can't help but stare at Yunho as he disrobes, his light blue shirt dripping on him as he heaves it over his head. You don't really see him shirtless like this, even though you live together. He's not one for walking around like that. You'd forgotten how broad he really was, how strong his shoulders are. As he goes to ring out his shirt in the sink you see his tricep flex, and the smooth muscles of his back as well. He's tall and lanky, but you'd forgotten just how muscular he was too.

"You're kind of gawking, just so you know," Ari whispers in your ear, making you jump.

"Oh my god, I'm gross," you groan, burrowing your head in her shoulder.

"No not gross, not gross at all. Fuck, every time San is shirtless I want him to fuck me immediately." You glance over at Ari's boyfriend, already anticipating the muscles you're about to see. You could tell even when he was clothed how built he was.

"How often is at the gym?" you ask.

"Basically every day. He can like, easily pick me up and throw me around. And I'm not exactly the lightest person in the world."

"If that's not everyone's dream," you say, giggling.

"Can't Yunho carry you?" she asks.

"Yeah but I'm basically like a sickly little worm, it's not that hard. Even Hwa can lift me," you laugh,

"Okay, well, he can still lift you. And how big is your height difference?"

You just smile at her question, knowing you are blushing.

"God, if we aren't the most simple of women," she laughs.

"No no, I'll have you know I'm very full of logic and feminism and I do not care about muscles, or height, or anything of the sort. Never in my wildest dreams have I thought about how tall he is in comparison to me and gotten all hot and bothered about it," you joke, your blush having moved to your cheeks too.

"So you have thought about him like that!" she exclaims.

"Keep it down!" you chide, when you see Seonghwa shoot a look over at the two of you.

"Sorry, sorry," she laughs, pouting at you. "What are you looking at?" she says to Seonghwa, who rolls his eyes.

***

After the boys had changed and dried off, Wooyoung insisted that everyone watched a scary movie. You were all stuck inside, and everyone had already spent the morning talking and catching up.

"'It matches the vibe of the storm," he said. "It'll be so fun," he laughed, smirking in your direction. He knew how you couldn't handle jump scares and didn't like gore. He promised you the movie he'd selected didn't have either.

"It's more like, a psychological thriller, you know? It's really fun. Set in a cabin in the woods too."

"Okay, fine," you replied, hoping he was telling the truth.

He was, in fact, lying. You found that out about twenty minutes later.

The loud bang made you jump, causing you to launch sideways and grab onto the closest thing to you. It happened to be Yunho's arm.

When everyone sat down, Yunho sat himself right next to you, but didn't say a word. Everyone was chatting, the room filled with chaos as they came down from the adrenaline rush the storm had caused. Ari got up to sit with San and help him dry off, and when Yunho saw you sitting alone he was almost thankful. He didn't know why, but everything Ari had said earlier made him feel almost jumpy. He had seen the two of you giggling and whispering to each other, and felt like something was happening that he didn't understand. When he approached you your face looked distant, and he almost worried you didn't want him there, that you would have preferred her. He sat with his arm around the back of the couch behind you. But when you didn't lean into him at all, didn't seem comfortable with it, he pulled it back down to his side.

"Woo, you promised me!" you whisper yelled after you jumped, your grip on Yunho so strong it almost hurt. You felt so embarrassed at how easily scared you were.

"That wasn't even a jump scare, just a loud sound," Yunho said, and the room chuckled. You frowned, pulling yourself away from him. You weren't sure why you were so sensitive, but what he said made you feel small. And not in a good way.

Everyone else's attention was back on the movie in a second, but Yunho couldn't stop looking at you and your sullen face.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning ever so slightly towards you. "Come here," he said, moving his arm around your shoulders this time, gently pulling you towards him. You stuffed your head into his chest, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. You weren't sure if you even wanted his comfort. You completely tuned out the movie, closing your eyes. You mind raced with thoughts from the day, and you suddenly realized you hadn't had a chance to talk to Seonghwa. You had wanted to assure him of what was happening, because he lived with you both. You didn't want him worried that you and Yunho had been keeping something from him, sneaking around behind his back. But as you peaked around the room to find his face, you didn't see him anywhere. You felt confused, and exhausted, and suddenly realized how cold you were again. You tried to tuck yourself into the blankets more but it just wasn't enough, so finally you decided to go grab Yunho's hoodie from the library. Maybe one more layer would help.

You slowly crawl your way out of the room, careful not to block anyone's view of the TV. When you finally stand up you're at the edge of the very short hallway that leads to the library. As you stand you notice how dark the sky looks. This window faces out towards the fire pit, and sits where the cabin is directly under a few trees and your view is limited. Still, the view is beautiful. The rain has become more gentle now, and the soft sound soothes you as you look out across the land splattered with greenery. The plants, the trees, they're the reason you really like being out here. You hope that today's the last day you'll have to spend inside, nursing your body. Some movement in your periferral vision catches your eye, and you sweep your gaze back towards the fire pit and the ring of trees that surrounds it. Suddenly you realize why you couldn't find Seonghwa earlier.

Outside, on a lounging chair just to the left of the fire pit, Seonghwa and Hongjoong are kissing. They must have snuck out while the rest of you were occupied with the movie, you realize. You aren't sure how you missed them at first, but in the darkness of the storm and shadow of the trees they almost blended into the landscape. Seonghwa is sat against he back of the chair and Hongjoong is over him, a hand on Seonghwa's thigh. You see him move that hand to pull on Seonghwa's silky black hair, the kiss clearly passionate, heated. The rain patters down around them, but in the cover of the trees they don't look soaked. They certainly don't look bothered. You can't tell, really, from this far away. You shouldn't be trying to look that hard, anyway. You try to tell yourself that. But you're mesmerized, stuck to the spot. You feel overcome with how beautiful they both are.

Soon they're tugging at each other's shirts, and you can tell now from the way they take them off that they must pretty damp. In the struggle you see Hongjoong's muscular back and arms; Seonghwa's face is the picture of lust, his hands moving down quickly to reach inside Hongjoong's pants and start stroking him. They're kissing again, Seonghwa's lean chest heaving, Hongjoong grabbing his legs to wrap them around himself. Tangled together they look like a perfectly choreographed ballet, like they both know exactly where the other is headed. You see Hongjoong's hips start to buck, his mouth moving down to Seonghwa's ear, then neck, his iron grip on Seonghwa's thigh leaving a mark you can see all the way from the window. Seeing the red mark brings a heat to your cheeks; the image of your porcelain doll of a friend being marked up by such a muscular man is not something you thought you'd ever witness. Now that you have, you can't help but think they're perfect together. Suddenly Hongjoong is sitting back, his hands pulling on the band of Seonghwa's shorts and throwing them aside, and you see how hard Seonghwa is, his movements showing how obviously needy he is.

Fuck, I really should stop watching them, you think. You'd seen them both naked before, it's not like your friend group was uncomfortable with much. But this was obviously different, and the way your body was feeling while you witnessed it made you feel a confused and a little guilty. Still, you could not pull yourself away, as you saw Hongjoong lean down over Seonghwa and say something, and Seonghwa's lips curl up in a smile, his head turning to the side as he grabbed onto Hongjoong's arm. They looked so, so in love. With Seonghwa's legs spread Hongjoong reached down, his hand moving between his cheeks, moving in a way you could not make out from your distance. Seonghwa's head fell back in obvious pleasure, and his back arched slightly showing off his lean abdomen. Hongjoong moved his head down to suck on one of his nipples, making Hwa's back arch even further and his mouth fall open. He looked so completely content in such a vulnerable state, and it made your heart ache with happiness. In all of the conversations you'd had with him over the years, you knew he always felt so self-conscious in these situations. It was always shocking to you, given just how beautiful he was. He got propositioned out in public more than anyone in your group, and had to continually turn people down given the industry he worked in. But all of that attention felt uncomfortable to him, usually, and you knew that. To see him so unabashedly open with someone was a rare sight.

Hongjoong's hand moves up and then you see, a tiny glint of something metal in his hand. It must have been a plug Seonghwa had inside himself already. When had he put that in? It must have been after the game, so before the movie? When did he even have the time? You can't stop watching the way Hongjoong lines himself up, stroking a hand through Seonghwa's hair again, finally pushing himself in ever so slowly. The plug sits next to them on the lounging chair, and you swear the gem on the end twinkles at you. He starts thrusting slowly, kissing Seonghwa's cheek, the rain starting to pick up again. It all feels so cinematic, like it couldn't have been more perf-

"What are you looking at?" Yunho whispers into your ear, sliding up behind you. You jump, spinning away from the window and covering your eyes, your elbow hitting him in the ribs.

"Oh god, ow," he says, grabbing his side.

"You scared me," you pout, your head feeling full of molasses from all of the feelings you are having.

"I whispered," he replied. "Why are you so jumpy, are you okay? Why did you you leave the couch?"

"I was cold, I was gonna grab your hoodie. But then, the window, you know, it was pretty outside with the storm and stuff," you reply, averting your eyes.

"Seems like my hoodie is in danger of being re-homed," he replies. He's trying to joke around to lighten your mood, which is obviously not good at the moment. Your eyes on the floor make him worried, and you really don't seem yourself. Or rather, you seem like how you are when you aren't feeling well.

"Here, why don't we look out the window together?" he offers, turning you around to face it again, wrapping his arms around you to try to help you feel warm.

"Oh god, Yunho, no," you mumble as he turns you, and you start stepping out of his reach, mortified at what he's about to see. You feel his arms stretch out and his body begin to move with you, but then he halts.

"Oh, that's what you were looking at," he laughs under his breath, making you cringe. You hope he leaves it at that, that he doesn't say anything else. But soon he opens his mouth again. "Oh god, that's crazy," he says, and you look back to see his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He looks almost horrified, and you wonder for a moment if he's even seeing what you think he's seeing, or if it's something else entirely. With a confused look on your face you scoot towards the window again, to catch a glimpse of whatever has him so shocked.

As soon as your eye line reaches Seonghwa and Hongjoong you too feel a shock, at just how hard Hongjoong is thrusting into him now, his hand on Seonghwa's neck. No longer do the two look like a balletic couple; instead one has clearly submitted to the other. You know from conversations with him that Seonghwa likes being taken like this, or at least has always liked the idea of it. He'd told you many times how he'd never really had any partners he trusted enough to go there with, but that he wished he could. You feel strangely proud of him, as you realize he'd had to have a difficult conversation with Hongjoong to make this happen.

"Yunho, stop," you say, tugging on his arm to pull him into the library with you.

"You saw what I saw, right?" he asks, his voice still low but sounding mildly concerned.

"Yeah, why?" you ask, seeing his hoodie on the corner of the pull out couch and making a bee line for it.

"You just, don't seem concerned," he says.

"Why would I be concerned?" you ask, your eyebrows knitted together. You really don't know why he'd have a problem with the two of them being together, but suddenly you worry there's something about Yunho that you didn't know.

"Hongjoong was being so aggressive with him," he says, voice even softer.

"Oh, Yunho, he-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to overshare. You're so thankful he doesn't have a problem with them for any other reason. "It's not really my place to share but, let's just say I know he likes that. I'm sure he asked for it."

"Well, I guess that makes a lot of sense," he laughs, his relief palpable. You cock your head to the side, looking confused. "Oh you know what I mean," he continues. "Hwa is so professional, pretty, put together all the time. Of course he likes being taken like a whore."

"Yunho, what the fuck," you say, shoving your face in his hoodie to try to cover up your laugh. You can't help finding what he said hilarious, and his read of Seonghwa is completely spot on. But you can't believe the words actually left his lips. "How can you say that about him?"

"You're the one who was standing and watching them for what, five whole minutes? I waited a while to come and check on you," he says, staring you down as you finally put on his hoodie, your hair a mess under the hood.

"God, please don't tell anyone," you groan into your hands. "It's weird, I know, I'm sorry. I just, they seem very compatible, and I'm happy Hwa has found someone like that. I don't know."

"It's not weird, I know you like watching that kind of stuff," he replies.

"I do not, what are you talking about?" you reply, your cheeks feeling warm again.

"Ok I know it's only one example, but remember our school trip senior year? When those people in the hotel across the street were fucking and they left their curtains wide open? You couldn't stop staring."

"I'm never living that down," you sigh.

"There's nothing wrong with doing that, at least I don't think so. If people are fucking in public then they know someone might see. They probably even like the idea," he says, chuckling.

"I'm not a big pervert who reads smut all the time and likes watching people fuck," you pout, hitting him on the arm.

"I know," he murmurs, pulling you into a hug. "I'd still love you if you were, though."

Love. Your heart stops at the word for a moment, and you don't know why. You'd said it to each other thousands, probably tens of thousands of times in the ten years you'd known him. But now it's making you feel like your heart has fallen into your stomach, and you might puke it up. You sag against Yunho, pains wracking through you again. You almost feel relief, at realizing the feeling was just your cramps.

"I don't feel good," you groan into his chest.

"I know, I could tell," he says, rubbing a hand along your back.

"How?" you ask, tensing in anticipation of his answer.

"Cause you're being kind of weird with me today," he sighs out, hugging you even more tightly.

"I'm sorry," you say, having known it would be his answer. It was the thing him and Seonghwa had helped you realize; no matter how much you could hide the physical symptoms of anything, the changes in your personality were always there when you weren't feeling well. And those two, knowing you as well as they did, always picked up on it.

"Do you want to go back out there? Or stay in here?" he asks you.

"I just want to lay in here for a bit, by myself," you say, not wanting to expose him any longer to your sour mood. "I'll come out for dinner, can you let me know when everyone's eating?"

"Of course," he says, lifting you up and placing you on your bed. In the comfort of the library everything feels so intimate, and you tug him down to come lay with you too, for just a second. Wrapped around each other you both sigh, Yunho nuzzling his face into your neck and leaving a gentle kiss. He feels overcome with concern, his heart wanting to stay next to you like this, forever. But you'd said you wanted to lay by yourself. He pulls himself up, tightening the strings of his hoodie slightly and pulling your blanket over your shoulders. As he leaves he walks gently, trying not to make any sound. In the hallway he glances briefly out the window, to see Seonghwa smiling, him and Hongjoong cuddled up together in a gentle embrace.

***

Dinner passes in a blur, your entire body feeling achey and your head starting to hurt. You'd taken your pills, drank water; there was nothing else you could do. When Yunho came to get you you'd almost declined, almost asked him to bring you food in bed. Your bleeding was definitely slowing down, but your body was feeling weaker today, and your mind was all over the place. Throughout dinner you felt like you might start crying at the smallest thing, and you clung onto Seonghwa to keep yourself from doing so. Everyone could tell you weren't feeling well, Yunho and Seonghwa rubbing your back as you sat cross legged at the large coffee table in the living room, slowly sipping at your soup. When Wooyoung brought you the bowl he had leaned down to hug you, seeing just how out of it you were.

"You don't have to stay out here with us if you don't feel well," Seonghwa said, running his hand through your hair. You leaned against him, slowly blinking to try and calm yourself.

"I don't think I can walk right now," you said, your legs hurting terribly.

"I can carry you," Yunho piped up, downing his last bite of food. "Do you want to go lay down again?"

You nodded your head, the light in the room feeling too bright despite how dim it was. You bring your hands up to cover your eyes.

"Ok, let me clean up our dishes and I'll take you to your bed," he said, standing up with your bowl and his plate in hand. When he returned he gently grabbed your hands, moving them around to the back of his neck, and then moving your legs out in front of you, scooped you up in one fluid motion. You rest your head on his chest, burying your face into his hoodie that you're still wearing.

"Feel better, we love you," Ari said, a twinkle in her eye as she watched Yunho carrying you from the room.

"I love you too," you respond weakly. You feel yourself fading, but suddenly your teeth feel too gross to sleep. "Wait, I need to brush my teeth," you tell Yunho, groaning in frustration.

"Okay, no worries," he says, his voice gentle. He walks you to the bathroom and sets you down on the toilet seat, prepping your toothbrush for you, then helps you stand to spit everything out when you're done. "Wait, I need to pee," you say, holding onto his arm tightly. He helps you sit down again, helps take off your pants and panties. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry you have to help me like this," you say, your words nearly slurring together. You're really sounding out of it, and he feels himself in that space he gets in, when you're so broken down and he's the one there to comfort you.

"Shh, it's okay," he says, brushing a tear that fell down your cheek.

"No it's not, I'm a fucking mess," you continue, more tears starting to fall. "Why can't I figure out my damn body, why does it always catch me so off guard? It must be so weird living with me," you cry, everything tumbling out in waves.

"Y/n, listen to me. Everything is okay, I'm gonna get you to bed and you'll feel better tomorrow, I promise. You are not weird to live with, you're wonderful to live with. Are you hearing me?" he asks, moving your face up to make eye contact with him. "How did I get so lucky to know you?"

His kind words only make you cry harder, and you can't stop even as you get up from the toilet and try to steady yourself. He opens the door and picks you up again, carrying you finally to your bed to lay down. In bed your body feels heavy, like you're made of lead. You haven't felt this tired in a while, and you think sleep might envelop you immediately. But the pain radiating down your thighs and up through your stomach is too bad, and you toss and turn, unable to relax as Yunho readies himself for bed.

"Y/n, what do you need?" he asks, seeing your constant movements and pained expression.

"My legs to stop hurting," you mumble. Without even opening your eyes you raise your arms out to grab at him, even though he isn't right there. Your body is moving desperately again, and something about being with him in this room makes you loose all inhibitions. "Please make them stop hurting Yuyu," you plead.

"What would help, baby?" he asks, his body feeling electric. He moves over so you can grab him; he'll follow any request you have, do anything for you.

"Touch me, again, please," you beg, your thighs and pussy aching. Yunho again grabs a towel for you, gently placing it down on your bed and smoothing it out, lifting your hips to move you onto it. You keep making little sounds of desperation, unable to stop yourself. 'I know, I know, just relax baby,' he whispers to you, watching the way your face softens at the pet name. Soon your lower half is entirely naked, and he's massaging your legs, gently brushing past your cunt a few times, making you mewl from neediness. He wants to make you feel better but he also likes seeing you like this, likes hearing you beg for him. He wasn't prepared last night for what it did to him, and he thinks he's probably already addicted to that feeling.

Finally he slowly pushes a finger in, making you moan and sigh, the relief instant. Your reaching out to pull at his face, pulling him in to kiss him hard, your breath mixing as you open your mouth to slide your tongue across his. You moan at the feeling, his tongue wet and hot, making your clit throb. 'More,' you plead, your body feeling even more opened up than the previous night, even more ready to take everything he can give. He slowly adds a second digit, not wanting to hurt you, but he can tell your desperation is high and you're needing to be well and truly fucked. 'More, more,' you almost cry, your cunt clenching hard onto his long fingers, your hips rocking to match his movements. He inserts another finger, moving slowly again as to not hurt you. Desperately you claw at his back, hands reaching underneath his shirt, leaving marks in their wake. Yunho groans at the feeling, his own cock throbbing at how needy and wet you are. 'Faster, please,' you beg. The little sounds you let out are making him harder and harder; he starts rubbing himself against your leg as he fucks you with his fingers, his cock so hard it's starting to feel like torture.

"More, please Yuyu," you beg again, tears forming in your eyes from how good it all feels.

"More fingers? You feel so tight baby," he asks you, barely able to move his hand with how hard you're clenching down on him.

"No, need you inside me," you babble, feeling how hard he is against your leg. Yunho slows his movements a bit, propping himself up on his elbow to talk to you. He wants nothing more than to fuck you right then, but there's just one problem.

"Baby, I didn't bring any condoms with me," he huffs out, his frustration obvious.

"You should have," you whine, turning your face away from him but still moving your hips against his hand.

"How was I supposed to know this was gonna happen?" he asks, laughing.

You just whine again, eyes even more teary now at the thought that you might not get what you want, and you move your hands up to cover your face. Yunho stops his movements when he sees your disappointed face, sitting himself up to look down at you. He takes his free hand and gently brushes a hair out of your face.

"You really need me to fuck you right now?" he asks, earnestly. You nod your head, looking at him through the gaps between your fingers, your lips in a pout. Yunho groans and throws his head back, your sweet and needy face making him want to do every dirty thing he can think of. "Okay, I'll be right back," he says, slowly pulling out of you. You whine in disappointment, your pussy feeling devastatingly empty. "Just sit tight for a few minutes, I'll be right back," he says, kissing your forehead.

After cleaning off his hand Yunho walks through the cabin, trying hard to go unnoticed as he passes through the living room to the master bedroom. Everyone still seems to be awake except Hongjoong and Seonghwa who lay cuddled on a couch together; Wooyoung and his cousin Yeosang are playing what appears to be a very heated card game of some kind, while the other boys watch or scroll their phones, everyone clearly winding down for the night. He's thankful to not see Ari or San present; they must be in their bedroom as he'd hoped. His heart races from how potentially awkward this interaction could be, but he feels like he's on autopilot and there's no possibility of turning back. Not when you had begged him like that, and looked at him the way you did. There was no way he wouldn't find some sort of solution to his problem.

He knocks on the door gently, hoping he's not disturbing a private moment between the two.

"Yeah?" he hears Ari ask, sounding sleepy.

"It's Yunho, can I come in for just a sec?" he asks, trying to sound casual. He doesn't want to raise any alarm bells for them, or for any of the boys in the living room who might be overhearing. And if it had just been Ari, or one of the other friends he'd known for so long it might not feel too awkward. But there are three new people on the trip this year, and he isn't sure how comfortable they would be.

"Yeah, come in," she responds. Yunho turns the door handle slowly, hoping to avoid making any loud noise. Slowly pushing open the door, he spots San in the chair in the corner, reading over something on his laptop in front of him.

"Hey, sorry this is, well, random. Do you guys happen to have a, uh, condom I could borrow?" he spits it out, not wanting to waste a second.

"Oh, yeah, uh, let me see what I've got," San replies, closing his laptop and setting it on the bed before unzipping a small pocket in his suitcase. "Here just take this box, I brought two with me," he responds.

"Are you sure?" Yunho asks. He's frankly taken aback by how casual San is being about this, and by his generosity on top of it all.

"Yeah, of course. I've got plenty and I'm glad you're asking. It's always better to be safe," he responds, a genuine smile on his face.

"Be careful with her," Ari adds, unable to stop herself. "She's very fragile."

"I'm not going to hurt her, you know that," he replies, looking at her almost coldly. He feels slightly offended at the idea that she thinks it's a possibility, after all of the years she'd known him, seen him taking care of you.

"I know. I just had to say it, she needs all the protecting she can get," she says, remembering the state you were in during dinner. "I'm sorry if that was rude. I'm- I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to ask us," she finishes, hoping she didn't cross some sort of line with him.

"She's very capable of asking for what she needs," Yunho replies, wanting to stick up for you. But his face is soft, he isn't mad.

"Which is, that?" Ari gestures at the box of condoms in his hand, trying to hold back laughter.

"Okay, that's enough," Yunho laughs, looking away from her towards the door. "Thank you both, sorry if I made that weird."

Out the door he makes his way through the living room, trying to hide the box under the hem of his shirt. Mingi is the only one who glances up to see him, registering the shape of the box underneath the fabric. He's pretty sure he knows what it is, and he smirks to himself, too tired to say anything about it. But he's happy his friend is finally getting what he's wanted.

"I'm back," Yunho whispers when he reenters the room, your face and body awash in the gentle white light from the moon. He makes quick work of opening the box, removing one condom and throwing it on the bed. In a second he's on you, peppering your face with kisses, moving his hands underneath your shirt to pull it off.

"I'm so bloated," you say, breathless.

"I need to see you," he responds, not giving you any room to keep talking about yourself that way. You tug on his shirt as well and he reaches up, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor. In the moonlight he looks pale, his long torso perfectly shaped and beautifully lean. You bring a hand up to stroke along his stomach, feeling the strong muscles underneath his skin, brushing across a small happy trail going down from his belly button into his pants. You tug on his pants too, your neediness having only grown in the few minutes he was gone. The idea of laying stark naked in front of anyone, especially in your bloated, sickly state would normally make you shudder, but in this moment you feel free, ready to take anything. He moves down to kiss you again, passionately, his tongue forcing you to open your mouth wide, his hands possessively grabbing you. Him kissing down your neck has you moaning, nearly writhing underneath him. He moves up to whisper to you, biting your earlobe gently and making you moan louder.

"You're so perfect," he whispers, the words cascading down you like a soft warm rain, any worry you had completely melting away. You tug at his pants again, helping him move them down and finally, completely off. Quickly he rolls on the condom; carefully he lines himself up with your entrance, moving his stiff cock up and down your slit, already feeling how warm and wet and ready you are. Finally he presses in, achingly slowly, until he's fully seated inside of you, the muscles of your cunt being deliciously stretched in a way they never have before.

He's big to be sure, clearly just the perfect size, stretching you just the way your body needed. Slowly he pulls out, then soothingly pushes himself back in, his cock hitting every perfect place inside you. Your mouth falls open at the feeling; you've never felt so full, so complete. He moves a hand down to your hip, anchoring himself so he can start a slow rhythm, his head buzzing with how good it all feels.

"Baby, you're so tight, fuck," he says as he tries to find a consistent pace. "Does that feel good?" he asks, eyes not leaving your face.

"Yes, yes, fuck, Yunho," you mumble, not able to form a coherent sentence.

"Relax for me then, you're so tight I can barely move," he says, trying to find the perfect angle to make your body completely give in. Quickly he readjusts himself, moving his knee to lower his angle, adding more strength to his movement. You moan, clearly feeling even better than before, so he knows he needs to lower the angle even more. "Baby, lift your hips for me," he says, grabbing a pillow from beside you to move underneath your lower back. Once you're situated he kisses you again, acutely aware of just how surrendered you are to him, words no longer forming on your lips. Slowly he adjusts his knee again, his hand still on your hip anchoring you, and he begins fucking you again from his new angle.

The immense pleasure is immediate, your back arching and your head rolling back, your moans so loud you're probably being heard throughout the rest of the cabin. But Yunho doesn't care, he's not thinking about that. All he's thinking about is the way he feels your pussy pull him in even more, your hips and thighs finally relaxing some, your whole body reacting to his change in movement.

"Shit, there you go," he praises you, feeling your legs wrap around his back, pulling him in. He's been so careful with you, so focused on not hurting you, but he can tell you need more, so he starts fucking you harder, his face nuzzling in your hair to take in everything he loves about you. He can feel the muscles of your pussy start to clench again, but it's different this time; the flutter against his cock drives him crazy, making him thrust into you even harder. Soon he feels the muscles clenching hard, your moans reaching their peak, your hands a vice grip on his arm and back.

"Good girl, let yourself come," he coos, holding you as close to him as he can, kissing your cheek and nose. It's the most heated moment, he feels himself about to come undone too, but suddenly he's overcome with fondness, a warmth flowing through his chest, making him feel emotional.

"Fuck, I love you." The words tumble out of him without warning and your own chest warms, just as your orgasm starts blooming through you, your legs shaking as Yunho continues to fuck you. You're moaning and mewling, unable to say a single actual word, but you wish you could tell him just how perfect everything is, how you haven't came like that, ever. In the heat of the moment everything felt right, and to hear him say something so sweet just as you reached your climax made it all feel even better. His tight grip on you, the way he's nuzzled into your body, it makes you feel safe and grounded and so fucking horny.

Yunho comes just after you do, his thrusts becoming inconsistent, his body going taught and then absolutely limp on top of you. You both breath deeply, your chests heaving in the quiet coolness of the room. You wish you could bottle this feeling, the way your body is limp and buzzing with pleasure, his weight on top of you making your usually busy brain filled with nothing but the feeling of him. It feels peaceful, almost spiritual. You both rest for a few minutes, not moving a muscle, except when Yunho reaches over finally to kiss you again, making you giggle.

"How are you feeling?' he asks, still not daring to move.

"So good," you slur out, a dopey smile spreading across your face.

"Good," he replies, wrapping himself around you like he loves to do. "Can I pull out of you?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you respond, moving your legs to allow him to move. He cleans you up and helps you redress, stopping every few seconds to kiss you again, tickling you too when he realizes you're in the mood for it. It takes a while for you to come back to yourself, your mind so foggy from everything that had happened. But finally, once he'd gotten you both totally ready for sleep and wrapped himself up behind you, you found you could actually speak.

"I love you too," you whisper, squeezing his hand that rests on your belly. He just cuddles you closer, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

***

Next Part ->

[lovebugism]

Hiii can i request shy reader whos anxious about different things? I have weird anxiety lol that makes it hard for me to eat in front of people until im comfortable around them. Can i request reader x Steve who have been dating for a while and she tries to avoid eating around him, but she finally gets comfortable and Steve is just so happy, thank you!!

hope you like it angel :D — steve takes care of his anxious gf at a family barbecue (established relationship, hurt/comfort ish, cw for mentions of anxiety and unexplained issues with food | 1.1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The picnic table in Steve’s backyard is hardly big enough for all of you. Even when Max and El agree to lay out on a blanket together some feet away — and when Lucas and Erica spontaneously decide to race each other to the pool — it’s still an achingly tight fit. 

You, in particular, are sandwiched between two bodies much larger than yours. Eddie sits to your right, lacking any real concept of personal space, and Steve is off to your left. The latter keeps a strong arm around your back, hugging you closer to his chest every time the wild-haired boy accidentally knocks into you.

“Okay, me and Nance are getting something to eat,” Robin announces, standing suddenly from the table, visibly overstimulated from the constant conversation. Her eyes flit to your cowering form and then to Steve’s protective one. “You guys have fun with… this.”

It takes all of ten seconds for the others to follow behind them. Dustin and Eddie file through the Harrington family barbecue together, filling their decorative paper plates like they’re at an actual buffet. Mike and Will walk on pale, lanky legs around the yard — stopping once to talk to Max and El, then again by the pool with Lucas and Erica.

You and Steve are the only ones still sitting, but he hugs you to him like you aren’t. 

You can feel the early summer breeze on your skin now, without the crowd of teenagers suffocating you. You can hear the whispering wind, and the gentle humming of his pool, and the sounds of quieter conversation in the distance. You can breathe again. Almost. Still slightly strangled by a distant worry that Steve can read from here.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders cautiously, ‘cause he knows how you are about food. You haven’t let him in on the extent of it yet, but he knows it’s there, so he’s obscenely patient with you accordingly.

You glance once over your shoulder — at the tables of grilled meat and food cooked with love. Your stomach rolls with a distant ache, an empty one. You turn back to Steve and shrink under the weight of his honey-eyed stare. “Um… Kinda,” you confess in a mousy voice, shifting on the wooden bench.

His eyes widen in a soft look of surprise. You usually take a little more coaxing than that. 

“Want me to make you a plate?” he offers, squeezing your shoulder with a gentle hand. His pink lips quirk in a sympathetic smile. “We can take it up to my room if you want— get away from all these freaks.”

Your chest warms at his efforts to accommodate you. The way he loves you makes you brave. 

“That’s okay,” you shrug, trying to be cool even though your voice trembles. “We can... We can stay down here.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. It bubbles up like sunshine until he’s beaming with it. 

It took you months to feel comfortable enough to eat in front of just him. And here you are now, utterly adored and finally brave enough to eat with all the rest of his shithead friends around.

“Yeah?” he hums, still smiling.

“Yeah,” you nod, gaze averted to your hands, which are wringing something fierce in your lap. You force a small laugh. “But it wouldn’t be, like, totally lame if I asked you to come with me, would it?”

Steve scoffs. “Like you even have to. I’m not let you get to the corndogs before me,” he jokes and rises from the creaking bench. “We’ll be lucky if Robin and Henderson don’t eat ‘em all first.”

He gets you laughing so you don’t think twice about meandering across the yard with him — about the eyes that are or are not watching you, or the weird way you are or are not walking. 

And because he keeps you laughing (and largely unthinking), you end up stacking your plate with more food than Steve’s ever seen you eat in public before. He almost mentions it. Almost. But he opts to keep his pride to himself, instead, lest he ruin the moment.

You return to the picnic table with all his friends, noticeably less anxious about being so squished together than before. 

And maybe it’s because Dustin and Eddie can’t eat anything without being sloppy — or maybe it’s because Will’s keeping you distracted with talks of his newest D&D campaign — but you down your food with more ease than Steve’s ever seen from you. Unworried about the crumbs sticking to your fingers and the very corner of your mouth. Completely and utterly comfortable here with him, and with everyone else around you.

The sight makes his heart swell. 

It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

He catches you alone for the first time when you’re tossing empty plates. It’s not exactly the most ideal spot to steal a kiss from you — by the deck, next to the garbage bins — but it’s the first either of you have been out of sight from prying eyes all day. 

So, Steve takes the opportunity and grabs it. Literally. He cradles your wrist in a gentle hand and ushers you closer towards him. Your feet stumble in the tall grass. The tip of his nose brushes the bridge of yours, and you flinch. 

“I taste like cheeseburger,” you laugh.

“I don’t care,” Steve shrugs, face screwed, visibly mourning your mouth. “I taste like barbecue. Who gives a shit?”

He ducks down to kiss you again. And this time, you let him. 

He kisses you harder than you anticipated — a long and languid peck that takes your breath away. He tastes faintly of all the food he’d eaten before, something savory and strawberry sweet. It leaves you dizzy when he pulls away, lips smacking softly as they part.

“What was that for?” you wonder breathlessly a moment later.

Steve bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His kissed lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Nothin’. I’m just… I’m just proud of you, I guess.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. He doesn’t have to. You cower at the notion of being perceived and scrunch your nose in disdain. “For being a normal person?” you joke with a cynical scoff. “For once?”

“No. For doing something that was hard for you,” Steve argues, still smiling. His hands rest warm and wide on the outside of your elbows. His thumbs rub softly along the skin there. “And for lookin’ real cute while you were doing it, too.”

You squint, trying hard not to smile at his smiling. 

“Stop flirting with me,” you grouse.

The boy’s pink lips jut in a playful pout. “But why?” he whines. “That’s, like, my favorite pastime.”

[b00kdiary]

Okay I've been debating about requesting this. However, I think you would do this lovely.

Reader is shopping for her wedding dress and is really excited only for the workers. They treat her terribly for her size and make her feel uncomfortable, so she leaves trying on only like 2 dresses and feels icky and when her mate (Cassian) wants to cuddle he can sense somethings off especially when he evades his touch.

Take some liberties with it. But I had this experience recently with my bridesmaids, and we didn't feel insecure, but we all left feeling really angry and upset

Full disclosure I did write something similar to this with Rhys, but I would honestly love your take with Cassian because I think you write him beautifully 😍

Mine | Cassian

Cassian X Plus Size reader

Y/N goes wedding dress shopping and is confronted with females who make it clear that they think she’s unworthy of being Cassian’s mate, that she shouldn’t be his wife. Cassian shows her just how fucking wrong they are.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body image issues and mean comments, fluff, angst and Mild Smut. (A/N to the lovely person who requested this I am sorry this happened to you, and I hope this work is how you'd like!)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"A size 18?"

The female before me asked again – for the third fucking time.

And just like the first and second, her beautiful face twisted, lips curling in a cruel smirk, blue eyes widening and her tone – I could hear the condescension in it. But what really took the cake was how her eyes raked down my figure, from head to toe looking at me like I was dirt on her shoe.

"Yes," Mor breathed, speaking sharply through her clenched teeth. I glanced sidelong at her, nervous at the anger simmering in her golden eyes. "She said that already. Thrice."

The female's eyes slid from me to Mor, and she had the good sense to look uneasy at the blonde's wrathful expression. I kept my face neutral when she met my gaze, a faux-innocent smile on her pink lips before she dipped her head in a bare nod and scurried away.

I glared as her long, slender legs carried her, shapely hips and slim waist swaying with every graceful movement. No wonder why she was looking at me like I was the fucking elephant in the room. She was tiny, as was every other worker in this stupid shop.

"I am going to pluck her eyes from her head," Mor seethed quietly from beside me. I turned to her, bracing my hands on my soft hips as I met her furious frown. "And tear her tongue from her mouth. She is awful."

"Yes, she is," I chuckled, pushing down the ache in my chest as I met Mor’s stare. I wouldn’t let her meanness affect me. Nor would I let Mor try and defend my honour. “But we’re here for a wedding dress, this is meant to be fun. Just ignore her.”

Mor sighed, tucking the strands of her long blonde hair from her face. I gave her a hopeful smile and I could see her physically forcing down her anger for my sake. A second later her golden eyes met mine and she beamed.

“You’re right, this is meant to be fun,” Mor grabbed my hand, smirking as she tugged me along the shop floor to the dressing room, passing the dozens and dozens of gorgeous gowns. “And you're going to marry your mate. Cassian is one lucky male.”

We passed a group of female workers, re-organising the rack – and it was almost comical how they all halted at Mor’s words, eyes widening. Mor’s smirk broadened and she shot them a cruel, amused look.

“Mate and soon-to-be wife of General Cassian of the Night Court,” Mor continued, feigning ignorance to the group of females now listening. Their faces ashen as they flickered their gaze to and from me. “You really do need the perfect dress.”

I rolled my eyes at her gloating tone, slapping her hand in mild scolding as we stopped before the dressing room doors. I tried to ignore how the workers watched me, but I could feel their deadly stares boring holes into my back, all over my body – I could feel the awful judgement.

“I think the one we chose will be perfect,” Mor continued, oblivious to the stares I was getting and the whispers behind my back. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing an easy smile onto my lips as she gushed. “The neckline, the bodice, the skirt – Cassian won’t know what hit him.”

“Let’s wait and see if they have my size first,” I muttered, drumming my fingers impatiently as we waited. Mor shot me a look, frowning but I just stared ahead. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me.

“If this store doesn’t another will,” Mor said, her tone a shade softer now. “Besides, we have the best tailors in Velaris, we could have a gown fit for a queen made for you if you wanted. I know Cassian would want nothing less than the best for you. So do the rest of us.”

A gown fit for a queen. Something fit for the mate of the General. The thought made me feel nauseous for some reason. Still, I gave Mor another smile, nodding along as if I liked the idea.

Mercifully, the female worker arrived before Mor could press me anymore about what I thought. Or unmercifully if the fake smile she wore as she approached was any indication. Or how she held that size 18 dress like the largeness of it might rub off on her.

Mor was right. She is fucking awful.

“Here we are,” She chirped, draping the bag over my arm with more force than necessary. She eyed the dress, disdain in them. “Size 18. Sadly, that is the largest we do. So, hopefully, it fits.”

Hopefully sounded more like I hope it doesn’t – sounded like she wanted to laugh at me when it didn’t.

“Hopefully,” I gritted out, shooting her a bland smile before walking away without another word.

Mor chuckled quietly as she followed after me, leaving that awful female standing there – dismissed. Perhaps it was mean, I was not someone who was ever rude to staff and yet this woman had brought that side out of me.

She’d also brought out the side of me that felt sick with nerves at the idea of trying this dress on.

***

Mor began crying the second I stepped out of the changing rooms wearing the dress.

“Oh Cauldron,” She laughed, red-painted nails coming to her face, wiping the endless tears away. I smiled as I descended the steps moving toward the mirrors. “You look beautiful, Y/N. Truly, you’re a dream.”

I smiled at my friend; throat too tight to voice how much her words meant to me. My legs shook a little as I moved toward the mirrors. The dress had fit, and she was right – I did look like a dream.

“Gods, it’s beautiful,” I whispered, voice shaking. I ran my trembling hands along the tight-laced bodice, down the soft silk material as it draped along my curved hips and fell in soft, elegant weaves down my thighs and to the floor.

It fit me like a glove. The simple, sweetheart neckline accentuated my chest, the bodice moulded perfectly against my waist and hips and the material looked rich, looked like it was made for a queen.

“You’re beautiful,” Mor said softly, coming to stand behind me in the mirror, tears glistening in her eyes as she ran her hands through my hair, “I think this might be the dress.”

“I think so too,” I laughed, my eyes burning with emotion as I stared at myself. Beautiful – it was a feeling I rarely experienced and yet, right now I did. I felt beautiful. “This is my dress.”

Mor shrieked, and I flinched at the shrill sound as she laughed, hugging me so tight I could scarcely breathe. I giggled, sniffing as I wrapped my arms around her slender frame, and I was beaming just as broad as she was.

Until the door cracked open.

And that female stood in the doorway. Frowning at me.

“You’ve found your dress then?” She said tightly, interrupting Mor’s elated nonsensical muttering about Cassian and the wedding and something about drinking. “It fits.”

I straightened as Mor pulled away from me, all remnants of a smile gone from her lovely face, and she was as stiff as me as we turned to that female. I swallowed as her blue eyes racked across my figure, something akin to disgust rippling like waves through her gaze.

“Yes,” I said tightly, my arms unconsciously folding over my chest. As if to shield myself from her judgment. “It fits.”

“Excellent,” She replied, sounding anything but thrilled. But still, she smiled, an ugly sight, before she beckoned Mor to follow her. “We can figure out the details while she gets out of the dress. I imagine it might take a while.”

Mor’s canines flashed and the female took a step back in surprise when Mor looked as if she might lunge for her – and rip out her throat with her teeth. But I clamped my hand down around her wrist before she could. Her golden eyes turned to me, incredulous, but I merely shook my head with a warning in my eyes.

“That’s fine,” I said sharply, meeting her blue eyes and raising my chin, “I’ll see you both in a few minutes then.”

“Fine,” Mor muttered, sighing as my fingers uncurled from her wrist. I could see the anger on her face as she followed after the female. And rightfully so, the female kept a good distance between them as they exited the room.

I released a tight breath as I moved back to the changing room, locking the door and slumping back against it once I was inside. And just like that, I felt awful again. I felt big like I was taking up too much space. I felt ugly like this dress wasn’t for me. And most of all I felt unworthy.

A mixture of anger and sorrow washed over me as I slipped out of the dress and back into my usual leggings and top. I tried to not dwell on how that female had looked at me, how swiftly she had yanked me back to reality with something as simple as her words.

It shouldn’t have mattered and yet, for some reason it did.

“Did you hear-“

I heard the soft giggling voice as I yanked my shoes on, two pairs of footsteps and rustling clothes sounding in the main part of the dressing room. Admittedly, I might have softened my movements to hear them. I had a horrible feeling I knew what they were talking about.

“The female who came in before asking for a size 18,” She whispered, spitting the size like it was acid on her tongue. My chest tightened. “She’s mated to and marrying General Cassian. Cassian who looks like a God is tied to her.”

“Cauldron spare him,” The other female choked on a laugh, and they both sounded almost sorry for him – like they pitied Cassian for having me as a mate. “The least she could have done is lose some weight for the wedding. I’m a size 2 and I would have tried to get down to a 0, never mind being her size.”

Her size.

Hot, searing embarrassment spread over me like a fire. But I forced down the humiliation and the bile twisting in my gut as I rose to my feet grabbing my purse and unlocking the door as loudly as I could. They stopped speaking and moving, instantly.

And my face was like steel as I stepped out into the main room. And watched their eyes widen, faces turning ashen. It would have been amusing if they hadn’t just torn my sense of self to shreds.

“Oh-“ One of the females gasped upon seeing me. Dumb struck. I saw them both glancing at each other, faces reddening and scrambling to find the words to explain what I had overheard.

I said nothing as I began stalking away, but I kept my face hard and my back straight as I exited the room and moved back through the shop floor. They were scurrying after me, like the rodents they were, likely to beg me not to say anything.

“Y/N!” Mor grinned as she stood at the counter, the first female and another, older female by her side, sorting through some paperwork. Mor’s smile dimmed when she saw my stormy expression. “What-“

“We’re not buying that dress,” I said simply as I stopped at the desk. All eyes latched onto me in surprise. “I won’t be buying anything from this store.”

Mor blinked at me. But upon seeing the severity on my face, the way my hands were clenched around my purse until my knuckles turned white, she didn’t push it.

“All right,” Mor nodded, dropping the papers in her hand, and slipping her bag around her shoulder. She looked at me and smiled, “Let’s go.”

“Wait. Wait-“

I glanced at the older female, seeing the confusion and panic on her face. But it was nothing compared to the panic of the female worker beside her. She looked like she might pass out.

“I’m the manager here, ladies,” The elder female said, and her eyes were kind. She seemed kind. “If you have any issues, please I will do whatever I can to remedy it.”

“You’re the manager?” I asked, and she nodded. I smiled - it was not a kind sight. “Then you should know that I intended to buy that dress, it was lovely. But I won’t.”

“Because of her,” I looked at the first female at her side, my tone as sharp as a blade. She stiffened, like a doe caught by a predator as all eyes fell to her.

“And them,” I turned back to where the two other females stood. Just as stiff, just as caught off guard. Still holding the garments, they had been fixing when they were discussing my body in the dressing room.

“I’d re-think the kind of people you employ here, how they speak and treat your customers,” I said, turning back to the eldest female. She had anger in her eyes now – like this wasn’t the first time. “Because I won’t pay to be ridiculed. And I will ensure that no female I know will come here either, not with the likes of them working here.”

“I apologise for whatever offence they caused, my dear,” She frowned, shaking her head at me. She genuinely looked upset. “I will deal with this accordingly.”

I turned my attention to the workers, to the anger and tears in their eyes. They glared at me as if this were my fault. I shot them a saccharine smile before turning, Mor on my heel as we walked away.

“Are you all right?” Mor asked me softly when we left the shop and walked back into the bustle of the main street.

“I’m fine,” I lied, keeping my eyes straight ahead. “I just want to go home. It’s been a long day.”

***

I hear Cassian and Azriel’s laughter the second Mor and I step into the house. And Cassian must sense my presence because I feel a soft brush down the bond, adoring and needy as if trying to coax me to come to him faster.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian grins the second I walk into the room, his handsome face lighting in the most breathtaking way as he rushes over to me. His arms are around me in a second, enveloping me in a great, crushing hug.

It would be sweet. Except his hands dig into the flesh at my back. I can feel my stomach pressing into his hard, carved chest. And he’s lifting me, Gods, I cringe as my feet lift off the ground and he’s bearing all my weight.

“Hey, Cass,” I mutter, trying to force an easy smile onto my lips as he drops me gently to my feet. I push at his chest, pulling free from his hold as I step back, and I don’t miss the small, confused frown he gives me. “Hey, Az.”

Azriel smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as I stiffly move around my mate, every inch of me hard and wilting from his loving touch.

“You don’t have any bags with you?” Cassian noted from beside me, his hazel eyes moving from Mor, who was shoving her several bags onto the counter and then to me, with none. “I thought you were going wedding shopping?”

“I didn’t find anything,” I said simply, moving on stiff legs to the dining table. I brush off Cassian’s hand on my back as I do so, and Azriel’s eyes narrow. But again, I ignore it all as I pour myself a glass of water, staring at the clear water as if fills my cup.

“That’s not true, she found a beautiful dress, the dress,” Mor said, her voice exasperated. And my fingers tightened around the glass as I brought it to my mouth and sipped. “She was going to buy it, but the workers were such assholes to her-“

“Workers?” Cassian cut in, voice sharpening. I sighed when he marched to me, towering height peering down at me with anger and concern in his eyes. “What shop? What did they say-“

“Nothing, Cass,” I kiss my teeth, brushing away the hand he brought to my face, annoyance flaring in my eyes. His frown deepened, and so did the tension in the room. “Nothing happened, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Mor argued, and my jaw clenched, as I looked away from my mate to the glass in my hand. “They were mean, Y/N and the way they spoke to you and looked at you, the way they treated you-“

“Mor!” I slammed the glass onto the table, so hard the wood shook from the impact. My sharp yell echoed through the silence as everyone stared at me – shocked. “I said it was fine. Just stop.”

Mor blinks at me, her face falling. I regret yelling at her immediately.

“I’m sorry,” She mutters, guilt in her eyes. I feel Cassian and Azriel’s attention unwavering on me and it’s too much. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” I whisper, voice shaking. My entire body is shaking as I step away from them, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m- I’m going to go get some rest.”

“Y/N,” Cassian called my name as I turned, but I could feel the tears burning in my eyes. So, I kept walking, and walking, and walking.

***

I’m sitting on the chaise in one of Cassian’s old shirts, reading and re-reading the same line in my book when he comes in.

I don’t lift my eyes from that one page, even as my heart thunders in my chest as he silently stalks over to me. I know he can hear my heavy breathing and erratic pulse; I know he can feel my sorrow in waves down the bond.

His footsteps are nearly silent as he moves toward me, and I feel his eyes like a brand on my skin. I suck in a harsh breath when he stops and drops to kneel before me. His large hands brace on my thighs, his face levels with mine and I’m shaking as I keep my eyes down.

I hear his throat work and I clamp my eyes shut when his hand comes forward, gently taking the book I wasn’t reading from my hands and discarding it on the floor beside him. So gentle, so tender, I could feel it just in the way he watched me.

“Look at me, my love,” Cassian whispers, fingers curling around my thighs. I cringe as he kneads my flesh, but his touch is adoring. “Please, look at me.”

I took in a stabilising breath before I fluttered my eyes open and lifted them to meet his. My heart broke at the pain in his eyes, that lovely face twisted with hurt as he beheld me.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. My voice broke. But still, I shook my head, trying to smile. “I’m fine Cass.”

“No, you’re not baby,” Cassian frowned, and a tear slid down from my eyes when his hand lifted and cupped my cheek, darkness in his eyes as he tracked that tear. And the next. And the next. “What happened? What did they say? I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”

My bottom lip trembled as more tears fell from my face, and Cassian released a broken, desperate groan as I tried to fight back my sobs. I curled one hand around his strong wrist, just needing to hold him, to anchor myself to his strength.

“They were looking at me like I was disgusting Cass,” I whispered, unable to say the words any louder. I kept my eyes closed as I spoke - I couldn’t face him. “Like just for existing in my body I should be ashamed.”

He shook with rage. I felt it down the bond, that primal, deadly anger that he rarely ever exhibited but when he did it was catastrophic.

“And when they heard, I was mated to you, that I would be marrying you,” Another sob broke free from me and his hand tightened at my jaw. He leaned forward, trembling as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I overheard them talking about how gorgeous you were and how fucking awful it was that you were mated to me.”

Pain danced through the bond, his pain not mine.

“And I just felt so guilty,” I breathed, sniffing as the tears leaked into my nose and mouth, as Cassian let them soak him too. “You should have a female walking down that aisle who is beautiful and thin, I didn’t even try and lose weight for the wedding, I’m sorry Cass-“

“Stop.” He snarled. And my eyes blinked open latching onto the searing, furious rage in his gaze. “Stop.”

“Cassian – “ I gasped as he grabbed me, fingers curling around my waist and hips and before I knew it, he was lifting me, spinning us so that he sat on the chaise, and I was straddling him. So fast. So easy. Like I didn’t weigh a damn thing.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Cassian said severely, hand cupping my cheek and forcing my eyes to stay on his. I had never seen him so serious. “I’m going to speak and you’re going to listen, okay?”

I nodded slowly, blinking away the tears as I stared at him.

His hand stayed on my jaw, the other curling around my thigh and keeping my body flush with him. Every inch of me felt every inch of him. I tried not to cringe at what he could feel.

“Do not ever let anyone, male or female, make you question your worth and beauty,” He said, his voice steady and firm. So were his eyes. “Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you are not enough. You are worthy of the world and more, do you hear me?”

I swallowed, my throat painfully tight but at the command in his gaze, I nodded again.

“I should kill those females for speaking about you like that, for making you think that any inch of you is ugly,” He snarled softly, canines baring, and I hated how he frowned, wanting to rub away the crease between his brows. “You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful female I have ever seen in my life. And I thank the Mother every fucking day that she made you mine. That she made me yours.”

A tear trickled down my face. Cassian’s eyes softened and he rubbed that tear and the next away with a tender brush of his thumb.

“Don’t ever think I don’t love your body, I do, I love every curve baby, I can’t resist them,” He sighed, and my eyes fluttered as his hand began to languish across my thighs, moving over my fleshy hips and the rolls at my back with need. “I don’t want you to change anything about yourself, not for me, or a wedding, or to fit into a dress. I want you just as you are.”

“Are you sure?” I whisper, my voice so weak. And Cassian’s face falls at it, at the doubt and vulnerability in my words. “I don’t want to embarrass you Cassian.”

“You could never embarrass me,” He scoffs, and my body melts into his as his hand curves around to cup my ass, dragging me forward so that not even an inch of space remains between us. “I am nothing but a brute. A bastard. But with you? I am the luckiest male in the world, I get to have your heart, your smile, and your body to love and worship and comfort for the rest of my life. I pity other males who don’t have you.”

“You’re not a brute or a bastard or anything else of the sort,” I frown, denial sparking like embers in my eyes. Cassian laughs, his throat thick with emotion, but he laughs at the immediate anger in me. “I love you Cassian. Just like you love me.”

I knew he did. I never should have questioned it.

“And I love you, baby,” He smiles, that kind of smile that knocks the air from my lungs. “I love you so fucking much. I don’t want you to forget it but if you do, I will always be there to remind you.”

My eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to mine, and the feeling is just like home. It’s like finding the other half of my soul and feeling it slot into place the second we meet. It’s perfect.

Cassian grins as I moan, my lips parting to let his tongue sweep in, hot and exploring, tracing against my teeth and tongue like he wants to devour me. His hands ravish along my body, palming my ass, cupping, and toying with my aching breasts, rubbing that deliciously thick length up into me.

“So responsive,” Cassian praises, running his tongue along my lips teasingly and I whimper as he rolls his hips against my wet, swollen clit, so hard I can feel him through his slacks and my underwear. “So beautiful when you’re rubbing against me, my love.”

“Cass,” I moan, eyes fluttering as presses wet kisses against my jaw, his hands cupping my ass and dragging me back and forth over his cock. He groans a rough, lewd sound, one that goes straight down to the heat between my thighs.

“I think you should forgo a dress on our wedding day,” Cassian grumbles against my cheek, hazel eyes flashing mischievously as I grind down against him, faster and harder. “I couldn’t imagine a better sight than you walking down that aisle completely naked, looking like the goddess you are.”

“Cassian,” My back arched, the slickness between my thighs growing more and more, especially as he growled those filthy words into my ears. His hands do not stop for a second, exploring and touching every inch of me.

“Whatever dress you wear will be on the floor anyway,” He chuckles darkly, and I clench around nothing when he shifts me back, his hand slipping between our bodies to untie his slacks. I groan when he pulls his cock free, eager as I push my underwear to the side and line him up to my entrance.

“I plan to make love to this perfect cunt from the second you’re tied to me,” He snarls softly and I’m a moaning mess as I sink, taking inch after inch into my wet core, loving how good he stretches me. “A dress would just be an unnecessary obstacle.”

His teeth nip and bite against my throat as he maxes out inside me and I have to brace my hands on his chest to calm myself, stretched so wide, feeling him so deep. He grins at how breathless and desperate I am, seated inside me like this was his home.

“You want me to walk down naked on our wedding day?” I lift my eyes to him, clenching around him and watching his eyes flutter at the feeling. I smirk, cupping his jaw as I slowly roll my hips. “With so many males present?”

His eyes darken. Like death.

“Rhysand, Azriel, Helion, Varian,” I roll my hips again, moaning at the spark of pleasure that runs through me. Cassian’s hands tighten on my hips, hard enough to bruise and my smirk broadens. “Lucien, Jurian, Eris-“

“I will kill them all before letting them see you naked,” Cassian bucks his hips up violently, slamming his cock to the hilt. I choke on a gasp, slumping into his awaiting embrace.

“Every-“ Thrust. “Last-“ Thrust. “Fucking-“ Thrust. “One.”

I cry out as he drives his cock into me, the sound of my arousal dancing through the air, mixing with my moans. Cassian groans, and I can feel that primitive Fae instinct in him as he fucks me as if he wants to imprint himself onto my very skin.

“You’re mine, baby,” His canines bite against the junction of my throat, just as his cock hits a deep, spongey spot inside me. “All fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Cass,” I whimper, panting as he slides in and out of me at a brutal pace, every shift of his hips rubbing against my swollen clit. “I’m all yours, yours, yours – “

He smiles.

And fucks me for hours like I was his.

And he was mine. 

_________________________________________

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Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

[writesvani]

coming down | 01

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to-enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): emotional distress and anxiety, body image issues and weight-related comments, mentions of food, dieting, and restriction, verbal abuse and manipulation, self-harm ideation, substance use and abuse references, mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, insecurity), intimate situations and explicit language, abandonment and neglect, self-deprecation and feelings of worthlessness, bullying or being belittled

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— previous chapter / next chapter

wc: 4,7k // date: 5th of March 2025

CHAPTER ONE - The Morning; proceed with caution...

AN: okay, first of all, let’s talk about ren. he's liteeerally the only reason i'm posting this chapter earlier. REN. If you didn’t fall in love with him in this chapter, then honestly, i don’t know what to tell you because he’s an absolute gem. like i’m literally obsessed with him. he’s my favorite character HANDS DOWN. i’m talking top-tier, i would throw myself in front of a speeding bus for him if i had to. i mean, he’s got the charm, the humor, the flawless sense of timing. he’s a walking chaos machine and i’m here for it. can we please get a round of applause for ren? seriously, he’s out here living his best life, making questionable decisions, and somehow being the best friend anyone could ask for.

this chapter? oh yeah, it’s the introduction to the story, the one that sets everything on fire (in a good way, don’t worry). we’re finally giving you the ren experience in full force because he’s that important. his energy? unparalleled. his bad decisions? iconic. his ability to get people into ridiculous situations? absolutely legendary. and don’t even get me started on how much i’m loving writing for him. i know you can’t tell, but i’m literally typing this while holding back tears of joy. like, this man could ask me to jump off a cliff and i’d probably do it because i’m just so in love with his chaotic little soul.

stay tuned for more chaos, more fun, and more ren being ren.

love, [@writesvani] (ren's #1 fan)

No one ever told you opening your eyes while fighting a horrible hangover would be this hard—well, they did, and you’ve experienced it millions of times—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Fluttering your eyelashes, your eyes barely open as a blurry flash of sunlight enters your narrow line of vision.

Ugh.

Why did you drink so much last night? You don’t even know.

Never drinking again.

Noted.

Lying to yourself won’t make the situation any easier.

Noted as well.

Hardly awake, you shift, trying to lift yourself up to sit—except your bed isn’t yours at all.

And this isn’t your room.

Or your apartment.

Your head throbs as you blink away the lingering fog in your vision, forcing yourself to take in your surroundings.

A small studio apartment. Cramped, slightly chaotic, and definitely unfamiliarly familiar.

The sofa beneath you is worn, the cushions flattened from years of use. Next to it, a tiny coffee table is cluttered with splattered magazines and old computer science textbooks, their spines cracked and bruised from relentless study sessions. Among the mess, a dirty ashtray overflows, its stale scent clinging to the air.

Gross.

A ginger-scented candle sits beside it—maybe an attempt to neutralize the overwhelming stench of smoke, though it clearly isn’t doing its job.

Your eyes drift further, landing on the tiny kitchen area. Greasy, dimly lit, its sink overflowing with dishes that look like they’ve been abandoned for days. The counters are barely visible beneath the chaos of unwashed mugs, instant ramen cups, and a suspiciously sticky bottle of what you assume was once honey.

Unease coils in your stomach.

Where the fuck are you?

Your fingers clutch the blanket draped over you, a thin, soft thing that smells like cheap detergent and cigarette smoke.

And then—

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave, so strong it almost makes you dizzy.

Oh.

Thank God.

Thank God you ended up here.

“So my worst best friend is finally up! What a lovely surprise!”

A voice—far too loud for this hour, far too cheerful for your current state—pulls you from the lingering haze of sleep.

You groan, pressing your palms into your temples as if that could somehow will away the pounding headache splitting your skull. “Please, for the love of God, let me enjoy my peace and quiet for five minutes before coming in with your unnecessary comments.”

A dramatic gasp. Then, “Okay, bitch. Rude. I understand you’re hungover, but please just be civilized for a second there. You don’t have to throw your defensive mechanism in—I didn’t even start my lecture yet.”

You crack open one eye just to glare. “Cut the crap, Ren. I’m not really in the mood right now.”

Ren smirks, crossing his arms as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Oh babe, if I were into women, I’d already have gotten you in it.”

Your lips twitch despite the throbbing in your skull. Because no matter how much you despise him in this exact moment—for being loud, for being happy, for simply existing when all you want is to die a slow, miserable, post-hangover death—a wave of relief crashes over you.

You’re safe.

Safe from last night. Safe with him.

You’ve known Ren for ages. Just to be more precise, since you were eleven. He’s your other half, your soulmate in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with the fact that, if it weren’t for his overwhelming love for ass and balls and dicks/men, the two of you would already be married.

It’s a thought you’ve had more than once. A parallel universe, maybe. One where you’d be an old married couple on some tropical island, far away from the bullshit of everyday life. Where you’d smoke weed all day and piss him off, and he’d play The Sims 4 all night and piss you off right back—screaming at his Sim for cheating on their husband with some new guy, courtesy of Wicked Whims.

But that’s not this universe.

This one’s a little messier.

This one’s full of questionable life choices, painfully slow mornings, and an unspoken pact:

If neither of you find an unrespectably hot, respectable man by the time you’re 35—

The wedding’s on.

“How the fuck did I end up here?”

Your voice is raw, thick with exhaustion and regret. The world tilts as you sit up, and for a brief moment, you genuinely consider throwing yourself right back into unconsciousness.

Ren, ever the dramatic one, sighs as if this isn’t the millionth time you’ve asked him that exact question. “What do you think?”

You blink at him. “First of all, don’t answer my question with another question. Second of all, IF I FUCKING KNEW, I WOULDN’T BE ASKING.”

Ren groans, tossing his hands into the air like a cartoon character about to launch into a monologue. “Okay, calm your pretty ass down, missy. You were too wasted. Or high. Or probably both. And you got a cab to my place. Probably the only address you could remember, considering we all know you can’t remember your own after one shot.”

His words are a jumble in your aching brain, but the general gist is clear: you fucked up. Again.

You huff, crossing your arms, but the sudden movement sends a sharp pain straight to your skull.

Yup.

Yup.

Never drinking again.

“Oh, Rennie,” you mumble, pulling his blanket over your head and collapsing onto the silky mattress. “I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again.”

Ouch. Bad decision. Pain again.

You’re dizzy, disoriented, sinking into the pillowcase you got him for his twenty-second birthday—the one he pretended not to like but still uses anyway.

Ren sighs. Not annoyed, not even surprised. Just—accepting. Because this isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled into his apartment, destroyed beyond reason, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

You feel bad. You always do. But you can’t help it.

Ren is the last remaining fragment of the old you, the one you buried deep in the back of your mind, the one you so desperately tried to forget. But he’s Ren, and he’s been your Ren since you were eleven.

And you hate it—hate that you keep dragging him into your mess, ruining his perfectly fine days with your self-inflicted chaos. But for some unfathomable reason, Ren still loves you.

He loved you at your best.

He loved you at your worst.

And somehow, he still loves you in whatever the fuck this is.

“It’s okay, babe. I know you’re lying.”

Ren’s voice is steady, soft, almost knowing. He doesn’t call you out with anger or frustration—just that damn patience of his, the kind that makes your chest tighten and your throat burn.

“C’mon, don’t go all crocodile tears and fake regrets on me now,” he continues, settling down next to you. “You know there’s always a safe space for you here.”

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. His touch is light, barely there, but it still feels like an anchor. You lean into it instinctively, your head still pulsing with the aftermath of last night’s recklessness. Yet somehow, his presence dulls the ache, lulling your discomfort into something almost bearable.

Ren always had that effect on you.

“Now, now,” he hums, voice teasing but gentle. “Tell me what got you so worked up that you drank like a dog let off a leash last night.”

You tense, but before you can even think of an excuse, he sighs.

“Sorry for not coming, by the way,” he murmurs. “But you already know how I feel about Yumi and all your other friends.”

And just like that, if you thought you couldn’t possibly feel worse, Ren effortlessly proves you wrong.

Because the only person you actually wanted to spend time with on your birthday wasn’t there—and it’s all because of you.

Ren doesn’t like them. It’s as simple as that.

He doesn’t like your friends, your environment, or the people you surround yourself with. He thinks they’re a bunch of problematic teens trapped in grown-up bodies, incapable of making rational decisions. They seek validation from whatever reckless or idiotic thing they did just to be considered “cool enough” on campus.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s exactly what they are.

Ren isn’t shy about speaking his truth, especially when it comes to them. And you’re used to it by now. Hell, you wouldn’t want him to lie, to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. It’d be too toxic for your best friend to step out of his comfort zone just to match your lifestyle, to accommodate what you think you want.

He doesn’t need to.

Ren has been the only constant, the only good thing in your life for the past few years. And, in a way, that’s enough.

"It's okay, lovie. We’ll be together today," you murmur, your voice quieter than usual. "I tried to bail on the party, but you know Yumi—she just wouldn’t budge."

You shift, mind working at lightning speed, lips parting and closing as you try to piece together the mess of last night. It’s all a bit blurry, details slipping through the cracks of your memory like sand through your fingers. But one thing stands out.

Gojo called you cheap.

The words flash in your mind like a neon sign, burning hot, humiliating, cutting deeper than you’d ever admit. And, of course, you being you, there was no way you’d just walk away, let him have the last word like that. No, you had to strike back.

So you did.

In front of Geto, the guy you’d actually wanted to take home, you called Gojo out. Laid it all bare. Exposed your past, your messy, embarrassing, mistake-ridden history with him. Let the words roll off your tongue like venom, staining the air of Nanami’s pristine beige living room.

The degradation of admitting you’d once fucked the beautiful, white-eyed demon was almost unbearable. Almost. Because underneath that shame, there was something else—something undeniably satisfying about the way Gojo’s face drained of color.

Ha. Should’ve taken a picture.

The man was sweating.

But, of course, that satisfaction was short-lived. The moment passed, leaving behind nothing but a thick, awkward silence that hung in the air like a bad smell.

Mood? Ruined.

Horny? Not anymore.

Gojo? Pissed.

Geto? Not having it.

And honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Who the hell would still be in the mood after witnessing an argument that never should’ve happened in the first place?

Gojo left quickly, tossing a sharp, “This isn’t over” over his shoulder before disappearing.

And Geto?

He just sat there, staring at you, dumbfounded.

So, as any sane person would do, you decided to self-destruct with tequila and dance to the INNA Party Mix some random guy snuck into the playlist while no one was looking.

Gojo’s words didn’t touch you. Not even a little bit. And losing your dick of the night? Whatever. Hot guys were everywhere. Besides, it was probably for the best—you really didn’t need the extra drama of Geto’s girlfriend finding out about whatever almost happened.

So that’s probably how you ended up at Ren’s place.

Even though you have zero recollection of getting here in the first place.

“So it wasn’t just weed and shots,” Ren squeezes your hand, his voice softer now. “It was Gojo.”

Your throat tightens. No. It wasn’t Gojo. Of course, it wasn’t Gojo. You just wanted to let loose, enjoy the night, without anyone ruining it for you. Right?

Right?

“Who cares about that assface? I just wanted to get drunk and high, simple as that.”

“Okay, okay,” Ren lifts his hands in surrender. “I won’t mention it again. Promise on Charli XCX.” He nods toward the poster on his wall, and for the first time since waking up, a laugh escapes your lips.

His eyes light up at the sound, and in that moment, you swear you love him even more.

Because Ren never pushes. He never pressures you to explain yourself or dissect your feelings. He just lets you be.

And you love him for that.

What you don’t love is the flicker of knowing in his gaze—the way he reads you like an open book. Not many people ever managed to do that.

But it doesn’t matter. Because Ren never says it out loud.

It’s different with him.

Sometimes you wonder if things would be easier if you could have this kind of connection with anyone else. But then again, if you did, maybe what you have with Ren wouldn’t feel so rare and fragile and beautiful.

“Swear on BRAT,” you say, extending your pinky.

“I swear on BRAT,” he echoes, linking his pinky with yours.

And just like that, Gojo isn’t mentioned again.

Or last night.

Or Yumi.

Or Nanami’s obscenely expensive house.

"C'mon, babe. Let's go get some breakfast."

Ren tugs you out of bed, dragging you into the world of the living, and just like that, you’re not a mess anymore. It’s stupid how easily he does that—how he makes you feel a little less like a disaster with nothing but his presence. And maybe, just maybe, you love him a little more than you did mere seconds ago.

The place Ren takes you to is… odd.

Some kind of coffee shop-slash-restaurant-in-the-making. It’s close to his apartment, but it’s way too edgy to be a normal breakfast spot. But hey—a free meal is a free meal, and who are you to complain when he offered to treat you?

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating a little. It’s not that edgy. Just… offbeat.

It’s called Radio, and by some wonderfully bizarre twist, the entire place is literally filled with radios.

They’re everywhere.

The walls are made of them, stacked up like some chaotic art installation. Car radios serve as makeshift stands, holding the food and drink menus. The menus themselves? Coquette-coded, decorated with bows and big-eyed deer like they were plucked straight from some Tumblr fever dream.

And then there’s the rest of the decor—ripped anime T-shirts hanging in the corners, stickers on the counter with millennial-core quotes like Eat. Sleep. Coffee. Repeat.

The waitress who approaches your table looks dead inside, eyeliner smudged into a mess so perfectly disheveled it’s almost intentional. She definitely doesn’t want to be here. But then again, do any of us?

"Stop judging," Ren hisses.

You blink at him. Judging?

"I’m a broke college student, and this place is cheap enough to actually fill my stomach," he defends, crossing his arms.

"I’m not judging," you retort. "But you have to admit, this place is weird. Look around. The interior designer who made this was probably on coke. Or MDMA. Or both."

Ren sighs. Deeply.

"Not everyone has to get high to come up with weirdly fun concepts," he says, exasperated.

"Now that’s just a lie, honey," you shoot back, leaning on your hand. "All artists get their inspiration somewhere, and the good ones? They get it on something. Look at Van Gogh. Dickens. Bukowski—"

"That’s not something to be proud of," Ren interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Those people were addicts. They needed help. Jesus. There's no proof that they made their best works because they were high—who knows? Maybe their art would've been even better if they were sober."

You hum, pretending to consider his argument.

"Well, you can’t prove that, can you?" you say, smirking.

Ren narrows his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Checkmate.

You love throwing these hypothetical what ifs at him just as much as he loves throwing them at you. His argument about sobriety is well-executed, you’ll give him that.

But he’ll never understand the euphoria—the way inspiration thrums in your veins when you’re tipsy, or better yet, high. The way stories are born from that space between reality and delirium. You swear your best ideas only exist there.

(Not that you’ve ever tried making them sober, of course.)

"Let’s not argue about the lives and works of people we’ll never truly know," Ren sighs, finally relenting.

"Okay," you agree, lips twitching.

For now.

“So, we can’t talk about your Voldemort, but you can for sure tell me more about that black-haired hottie you met last night?”

Ren’s rosy lips curve into a playful grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement. And just like that, you can’t help but melt at how much he lives for the gossip. Some things never change.

“He has a girlfriend, you mentioned?” Ren asks again, clearly wanting the details.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I care,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t go after a taken man who didn’t want me—that’s just not cool. But this guy, I’m telling you, from the second he laid eyes on me, he was eye-fucking me. Like, full-on, taking my clothes off telepathically and sinking his cock into me. It was intense.”

Ren snorts, amused.

“And if you saw him—he was all black long hair, a bandana, A BANDANA hanging from his neck. Made me wanna strangle him and lick him at the same time.” You pause, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “And the polo shirt, okay, I thought it was kinda lame for a college party, but it gave me a peek at his abs and, oh my god, his happy trail. And his lips, babe, I’m telling you. Pink, soft, begging to be bitten. Ugh. I should’ve tried harder and just fucked him.”

“Wait, you saw his happy trail?”

“Yeah, his shirt rode up when he was stretching after playing billiards with the guys. I was already plastered, but trust me, I saw it. It was practically an invitation to drop to my knees.” You take a bite of your fries, half-listening to yourself as the images replay in your mind.

“Well, if it were me, I’d be licking that happy trail into the midnight and riding him ‘til sunrise, baby,” Ren quips with a grin, taking a bite of his crepes.

You can see the look in Ren’s eyes—the way he’s already imagining it all. It makes you laugh, feeling a rush of affection for your ridiculous, perfectly in-sync best friend.

“Got a pic of the hottie?”

You freeze.

Your horniness deflates to zero. You forgot. You didn’t even get his number, his Instagram, nothing. “I forgot to follow him. I’m so fucking dumb.”

Ren rolls his eyes.

“Follow him now, duh. Who cares?”

“I care,” you say quickly. “I don’t want him to think I’m some creepy-ass loser who’s randomly looking him up.”

Ren looks at you like you’re nuts. “He won’t think that. Plus, if he doesn’t follow you back, then he’s blind and needs a check-up.”

“Let’s just try looking him up on Insta. Maybe he has a profile pic so you can see him, but I am NOT following him.”

You whip out your phone and start typing.

And there he is. Geto Suguru.

And oh boy.

His profile pic isn't just a pic, he's shirtless, his shorts hanging low on his hips, and there it is—the happy trail, long, dark, and deliciously inviting. His face is perfectly smirking, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You feel a shiver run down your spine, practically drooling as you stare at the picture.

Ren, ever impatient, snatches your phone from your hands before you can even blink. His mouth falls open in shock.

“Sweet Jesus, oh my God,” he breathes, his eyes flicking between you and the picture, blinking rapidly like his brain can’t handle it.

Then he moves his thumb. And you know exactly what he’s doing, but it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.

Ren has just sent a follow request to your “almost fuck.”

You feel a panic rise in your chest. No. This is it. You’re going to strangle him. Watch as life leaves his annoying body and his breath gets lost somewhere else because you know—you just know—he did it. He followed him. From your phone and your goddamn Instagram account.

“Are. You. Fucking. Insane?”

You stare at Ren in disbelief, heart pounding in your chest as your brain tries to process what he’s just done.

“I did what had to be done,” Ren grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “This man is too fine and too sexy not to be tried out at least once. Honestly, pardon his straightness, but I’d blow him like my life depended on it. Since I can’t do it myself, you’re gonna take the sacrifice of doing it for me.”

You feel a mix of anger and embarrassment bubble up inside you. “Ren, I’m going to kill you. I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Relax, girl,” he snickers, waving you off like it’s no big deal. “And when you fuck him, pretty please think about me, so I can, by some miracle, feel it as well.”

You roll your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but there's that nagging fear lingering in the pit of your stomach. “What if he doesn’t follow me back?” you whine, your voice a mix of real concern and dramatic flair. “I’m too old for this humiliation. I don’t need more rejection stacking up on my list.”

Ren just shrugs, completely nonchalant. “He will. Trust. Now eat your food, ho, and let’s go shopping.”

You don’t believe him, though. Deep down, you know he’s lying—because by the end of your shopping spree with Ren, Geto still hasn’t followed you back.

You’re losing your mind.

Even after you’ve showered, eaten, and taken a power nap, you find yourself glued to your phone. There’s still no accepted request. No follow. Just a stupid pending ‘follow request sent’ sitting there, mocking you.

You panic. You called Ren probably ten times and sent him thirty messages, all containing some combination of death, you, kill, and didn’t follow me back. You’ve become a mess—unrecognizable even to yourself.

The worst part? You know he saw it. You just know it. There’s no way in hell he didn’t check his phone at least once in the eight hours that passed. He’s leaving you hanging, like some peasant who isn’t even worth the time to be acknowledged.

It stings. It fucking stings.

You were dramatic before, sure, but you were deep down thinking he'd follow you back. Everyone does. He was all over you last night, wanting you, practically undressing you with his eyes. There was no way that stupid little spat with Gojo could have ruined things with Geto. Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were just stupid.

How dare he?

How dare he act like you weren’t worth even a simple follow? You start pacing around the room, frustration boiling over as your mind spirals into overdrive.

Then it hits you.

Gojo. That bastard. He’s always meddling in your business, always making things harder than they need to be. He loves getting involved for no reason, just to mess with you.

Just like he did before.

18 years ago

It’s an usual Friday afternoon, and you’re sitting with your great grandma on the front porch, her wrinkled hands steady as she writes down the words you dictate to her. You don’t know how to write yet—not really. Yes, you know the alphabet, but putting words together, let alone sentences on paper, feels like an impossible task for your six-year-old mind. But you know how to speak, and that’s all that matters right now. So you speak, and she writes, and together, you create a poem. It’s about winter, and comfort, and there’s a line about soup cooking on the stove, messily tossed in there.

You swear, in that moment, you’ve never been prouder of yourself. You are creating something—your very first poem. And even though it’s messy, even though it doesn’t follow all the rules of the world that you’re still figuring out, you did it.

Gojo, your next door neighbor and self proclaimed best friend sits beside you, shyly drawing you, your grandma, himself, and his favorite teddy bear, Teddy (of course) on what he insists is a train, even though it looks more like a stinky snail. You laugh, but then your excitement gets the best of you, and you run to your dad to show him the poem you just made with Nana. You can’t read it, but that doesn’t matter because Nana’s going to read it to him, and you’re so excited.

You just know he’ll be proud of you.

Nana reads the poem out loud, and you watch your dad as he listens. He smiles, and you’re filled with warmth, because he’s so pretty when he smiles. His eyes crinkle in that perfect greenish light, and his mouth—those dimples—just make everything feel perfect.

But then, he speaks.

“Nana, it’s great you’re teaching her all that, but she doesn’t have to write about food. There are many more beautiful things to write about. Our little peach is already a bit too chubby, and we’ve really been trying to help her lose weight, so I don’t think writing or thinking about food is good for her right now, right?”

Your heart sinks. Your excitement crashes to the ground.

You don’t know what it is, but his words make you feel so small. Your eyes drop to the ground, and you can’t hide from the uncomfortable, overwhelming feeling that floods over you. You already feel too big in your skin, too big in your body. Too big in your dad’s mind.

And then you feel it—the rush of anxiety. It sweeps over you like a tide, drowning you in its force. The weight of his words, the weight of your disappointment in his eyes, it’s too much. You couldn’t even keep it together for a stupid little poem.

Again.

You’ve disappointed him. Again. And there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.Nana says something, her voice soft and reassuring, about you being a normal, healthy little kid. She shakes her head at your dad disapprovingly, but you can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. His words hang around you, clouding the air, and the warmth that had once bloomed in your chest shrivels up. The mood is ruined. And even though you fight it, even though you don’t want to, your eyes grow heavy and the tears that have been threatening to spill finally break free.

You try to hold them back, but they come anyway.

"I don’t think you’re chubby. You’re cute, and I liked your poem," Gojo whispers to you, his small, warm hand slipping into yours. He squeezes it gently and beams a pretty, innocent smile at you.

But instead of feeling better, you feel worse.

His hand is smaller than yours. And he’s a boy. He’s smaller and slimmer than you, and you’re a girl. You shouldn’t even be thinking about these things, but you can’t stop. He’s smaller and slimmer and better, and you're chubbier, and nothing about this is fair.

And then you hear your dad again, his words ringing in your ears, harsher this time.

“Satoru, you don’t have to lie to make her feel better. Y/n’s a big girl. She can take it. Besides, she knows it’s for her own good.”

You nod, but it’s sharp and harsh, the motion of your head quick and jerky. You pull away from Satoru’s embrace, feeling like you might break under the weight of everything. His eyes are sad. You can see it now. The pity. The pity in his eyes, in your dad’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes. It’s there, it’s so clear, and you hate it.

You don’t understand pity yet, not fully, but you understand how it makes you feel small.

You’re not a little kid anymore.

Satoru looks mad now. He gives you one of those looks—‘It’s okay, I’ve got you’—the kind that only makes you feel worse. You can’t stand it.

You want to run. You want to hide. You want to be alone, away from all of this, away from their pity, away from the shame building up in your chest.

So you do.

You run. You run to your room, and when you’re there, the door shuts behind you, and you fall onto your bed. The tears come in waves, and you cry until evening falls, until your eyes are red and sore. You don’t come downstairs for dinner.

“Tomorrow, I’m not gonna eat anything. Then all of them are gonna see.”

You whisper the words to yourself, not fully understanding the weight of them, but in that moment, they make you feel like you have control. Like you can make everything better. And that's how it all begins.

taglist: @heh123321 @kazupop @mintcheery @krispywhisperswhispers

[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | masterlist

“Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun, aren’t we, bunny?” Summary: You should have been afraid. You should have been begging for your life, not begging for more. But the more he took, the more he pushed, the more he forced you to see what you really were, the more you broke for him. Because when you finally shattered, when your body gave in one last time, you understood—you hadn’t just loved the fear. You had craved it all along. || DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊️ horror, smut, MDNI 18+, Dark!Daryl Dixon, blood and implied violence, no walkers, motel room encounters, morally gray reader, predator/prey vibes, dubious situations and dubious consent (the reader whole heartedly consents they're just trying to reason with themselves that this is a terrible idea), serialkiller!Daryl, unprotected pinv, fingering, some f!recieving oral, itty bitty knife play, fear kink, Reader has issues™ a/n: once again a massive thank you to my friend @dixonsdarkelf for beta reading & making me feel not so insane for writing this ! Inspired by these gifsets x x

Your senses were on fire. Set ablaze like flint striking steel, sparking, catching, burning. Everything was heightened—every touch, every sound, every breath—yet anything beyond teeth, tongues, lips, and warmth faded into a distant, fevered haze. Even the scent of blood, thick and metallic in the air, blurred into the background, nothing more than a ghost of a thought as he took you against the door.

This unnamed man, the one who had seemed to know you the second he laid eyes on you, kissed you with so much veracity that you shook—no longer with fear, but with an overwhelming need to be closer. You pushed into him, the tension in your body unraveling as the warmth of his mouth settled into something unbearable, something dizzying, something that made every inch of your skin feel too hot, too sensitive, too much.

His fingers remained tangled in your hair, holding you there, keeping you pressed between him and the door as his lips moved slow but deep, tasting, teasing, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip before his tongue licked into your mouth, swallowing the soft sound you didn’t mean to let out.

Your grip tightened in his robe, fisting the soft pink fabric as you pressed closer.

Then with a sudden, violent strength, he pushed you into the door hard enough that you expelled the air in your lungs with a grunt. The hinges whined against the broken frame, the solid weight of him pressing in, keeping you right where he wanted you. His hands shifted—one sliding from your hair to wrap around your throat, pressing just enough to make you gasp as he tilted your head back. The other grabbed at your shirt, yanking it down with no hesitation, dragging the fabric past your chest until your breasts spilled free.

A wicked smile played across his lips as his gaze dropped, hunger flashing in those sharp, dangerous blue eyes. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust, didn’t offer any pretense of gentleness before his mouth was on you, his lips wrapping around one of your hardened nipples.

Instead of the soft caress a lover might have given, he bit down.

Sharp, sudden, teeth sinking into your oversensitive flesh, making you cry out. Your hands flew up, fingers wrapping tight around his forearm where he held you back, your nails digging into his skin, but he only hummed against you, amused by the way you squirmed.

“Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun, aren’t we, bunny?”

His voice was thick with something rough and indulgent, his breath hot against your flushed skin as he chuckled, the sound vibrating around the aching peak of your breast. His tongue flicked out, laving over the bite, soothing the sting with something warm and teasing before he moved to the other, lips closing around it, sucking slow and deep before biting again.

The sharp pleasure-pain shot straight to your core, your head pressing harder against the door, breath shuddering as he worked you over, taking his time, drawing out every reaction.

Savoring every reaction, every gasp of breath he let you have as his hand tightened around your neck. 

His free hand dragged down your side, light, teasing, the contrast almost unbearable as his mouth continued licking, suckling, and nipping at your tender breasts. His fingers traced the soft curve of your body before slipping lower, playing at the waistband of your pants, hovering, waiting.

A shiver ran through you, your thighs pressing together on instinct, but he was watching you now. You could feel it even as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Then, he laughed. Low, warm, mocking.

“I can feel how bad you want it,” he murmured against your skin, voice dipping into something taunting, something mean. His fingers pushed just a little lower, teasing. “That why you’re squeezin’ your legs together, bunny? Tryin’ to pretend you don’t wanna spread ‘em for me?”

Your breath hitched, mortified, but before you could answer, his teeth moved up, scraping your collarbone, his voice lowering to a growl.

“I’m gonna need some kinda answer here, bunny.”

He groaned into your skin, grinding against you, his movements slow, deliberate, meant to make you feel every inch of him. There was no mystery to it—he was big, the thick outline of him pressing firm and heavy against your stomach through the thin fabric of his robe. The softness of it was stark against the hardness beneath, the heat of him pulsing through the fabric, aching, demanding. Each slow roll of his hips dragged him against you, the pressure teasing, measured, like he was making a point. 

“C’mon, sweet thing. Tell me you want it. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your brain was screaming at you.

Stop. Think. There’s a dead body in the room.

You don’t know his name. He’s covered in blood. He’s dangerous.

And yet—his lips were still on your throat, his hands still exploring, teasing, and your body was still melting into him like none of that mattered. Like all that mattered was the heat rolling off him, the weight of his body pressing you harder against the door, the way every slow drag of his mouth set you on fire.

Your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his robe, but this time, you weren’t pulling him closer. You were pushing at him, weakly, without force, your hands betraying your own hesitation. It was instinct. Some last-ditch, pathetic attempt at self-preservation. But you could feel the way his grip tightened, fingers flexing around your throat, keeping you still.

“No—” The word barely left you, breathless, shaky, uncertain.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even hesitate.

The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin as he let out a low chuckle, lips curving against your throat like the sound itself amused him. He hummed, slow and thoughtful, like he was turning something over in his mind before finally speaking, his voice dipping lower, rough and thick with amusement.

“So you’re tryna tell me if I put my hand down your panties right now, you wouldn’t be soaked for me?”

The way he said it—so certain, so fucking smug, like he already knew the answer—made something inside you clench. Heat licked through your stomach, twisting tight, and before you could even attempt to deny it, before you could convince yourself to shove him away, his hand was already moving.

His touch was light, too light, barely there, but it sent a violent shiver racing down your spine. He wasn’t rushing or forcing anything. He was taunting, playing with you like a cat with a mouse in its claws.

He gave you plenty of time to stop him.

But you didn’t.

A slow, wolfish grin stretched across his face, like this was exactly what he expected, like he already knew your body was betraying you, and then he moved.

His fingers at your waistband slid lower, dipping beneath the fabric, slipping between your legs without hesitation, and the second he felt it—the moment his fingers met the dripping, messy pool of slick between your thighs—his grin faltered.

His breath hitched, chest rising against yours, and for the first time, that unwavering confidence wavered.

“Fuck,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, voice suddenly rougher, thick with arousal. His fingers slid through the obscene wetness with no resistance, parting you easily, gliding over the swollen flesh he found there, coating his fingers with you. He pressed into you deeper, the heat of his skin against yours almost unbearable, fingers teasing at your entrance, feeling the way your body welcomed him, wanted him, clung to him like you were already desperate for more.

Your stomach twisted, face burning, a fresh wave of humiliation crawling up your throat. He groaned, deep and slow, like he was savoring the discovery, like the realization of just how wet you were for him was something he wanted to commit to memory. His free hand at your throat flexed, a slow, indulgent squeeze, like he was grounding himself in the feel of you, the sound of your breath, the way your thighs instinctively pressed together even as you arched closer to him.

“Christ, bunny,” he exhaled, his voice heavier now, thick and oozing with satisfaction. His fingers dragged through the mess of slick again, slow and lazy, not giving you what you needed, just feeling you, learning the way your body reacted. “And you really tried tellin’ me you didn’t want this.”

The noise that left you wasn’t a whimper, but it was close enough to one to make him chuckle again, but this time, it wasn’t just amusement. This was something darker, something hungry, something filled with pride.

And then, too soon, too fucking soon, he pulled his fingers away.

Your breath shuddered, the loss of contact sending an unbearable ache twisting through your stomach, but before you could even process it, before you could decide if you wanted to stop him or chase him, you watched as he lifted his hand to his mouth.

You should have looked away.

But you watched as he sucked his fingers clean, slow and deliberate, his tongue dragging over every inch, savoring the taste of you like it was something rich and decadent.

It should have been disgusting. The remnants of dried blood still clung to the back of his hand, streaked up his wrist, smearing deeper into his skin as his lips closed around his fingers.

But instead of revulsion, all you felt was the sharp, aching pulse between your legs like a hunger that only grew.

The slick coated them, thick and glistening, and he licked it off slowly, dragging his tongue over the taste of you, sucking his fingers into his mouth as his half-lidded eyes never left yours. His tongue flicked out, licking up every last drop, taking his time, savoring you, enjoying every bit of what you had just given him without a fight.

Then, before you could react, he reached to you, dragging the wetness across your lips.

His touch was rough, unrelenting, marking you, smearing it against your mouth, your chin, watching as you shuddered under the weight of it.

“Taste yourself, bunny,” he murmured, voice thick, dripping with cruel satisfaction. “Since you’re so sure you don’t want this.”

Your chest heaved, your lips parted slightly, and for a split second, you almost did.

But then something inside you snapped.

Your head jerked away, your lips pressing together in refusal, the last bit of fight in you breaking through the haze.

His eyes darkened. The amusement didn’t disappear, but something shifted beneath it.

And then, before you could react, before you could take another breath, his hand on your throat was ripped away for an instant before it was back, but this time, the cold press of steel kissed your throat.

Your body locked up, your breath freezing in your chest.

The knife had appeared so fast you had barely seen him move, drawn from the pocket of his robe like it had been there all along, waiting, ready. He held it lightly, casually, the blade barely pressing against your skin.

Your pulse pounded against it.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice slow, teasing, almost gentle.

“Maybe you just need a little encouragement,” he mused, his tone almost sweet, almost harmless, like he wasn’t holding a blade to your throat. His free hand slid back down between your legs, fingers cupping you over the denim of your pants, making you jump.

“Since you love bein’ so scared, little bunny.”

Then, with excruciating slowness, his fingers found the button of your jeans, popping it open before dragging the zipper down, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. He didn’t rush. Didn’t force. Just took his time, savoring the anticipation before moving his hand between your thighs, pressing against the heat of you through the thin fabric beneath.

The knife stayed at your throat.

His lips pressed against your jaw, warm, deliberate, teasing. He wasn’t rushing. He didn’t have to. His breath was warm when he muttered, “Now, let’s see if you can keep pretending you don’t like this.”

The words sank into you, curling around the last fragile thread of resistance you had left.

He pushed your panties aside with deft fingers and dragged through your slick, swirling slowly over your swollen clit, and it was too much, too sudden, too good. Your knees nearly buckled, your eyes rolling back before you could stop them, your hands scrambling against his robe, searching for something to hold onto, something to ground yourself.

You weren’t fighting anymore.

Your body had given up the charade before your mind had.

“Gonna need to hear it,” he growled, his voice rough, hungry, like he was done waiting for you to stop lying to yourself.

The words were out before you even thought about them.

“Yes, yes, yes—fuck, I want it. Please, I want you.”

The sound of your own voice startled you. Desperate, wrecked, raw. It felt foreign. Like it was coming from someone else, someone shameless, someone who wasn’t supposed to exist inside you.

But she did.

She had been there all along.

And she was the one moaning when he dragged his fingers lower, pushing two thick digits into your clenching, desperate pussy.

The stretch had you gasping, head pressing back against the door, body arching, hips tilting forward to take more, more, more.

The noises spilling from your lips didn’t feel like yours anymore. This wasn’t you.

But maybe it was.

Maybe this was the version of you that had been buried for years—the version of you that craved fear, submission, control, that had spent her entire life running straight toward danger just to see if she would survive it.

Maybe you had always wanted this.

Maybe you had just been waiting for someone like him to find you.

His thick fingers pumped into you, slow but deep, dragging slick from your core with every deliberate stroke. His thumb moved in a lazy circle over your clit, the touch surprisingly gentle, almost soothing—a cruel contrast to the way he had you pinned against the door, to the cold bite of steel resting at your throat.

The knife felt sharper now, pressing just enough to remind you it was there, the cool metal stark against the fevered heat of your skin. The whole room felt too hot, too small, too full of him, with his breath ghosting over your jaw, his chest solid against yours, and his voice thick and indulgent as he dragged you deeper, deeper, deeper into this.

A broken moan tore from your lips as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot, the one deep inside you that made your stomach tighten, your back arch, your legs threaten to give out.

“Oh, fuck—” you whimpered, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into whatever you could hold onto, fighting to stay upright as your body clenched around him.

His mouth curled against your cheek, amused. Pleased.

“There she is,” he murmured, his voice rough with something dark and satisfied. “Knew you’d give in, bunny. Just had to get you to admit it.”

His fingers pumped harder, slick and messy, shoving you closer to the edge with every stroke. The pressure of the knife didn’t waver. It stayed exactly where he wanted it, pressed against the delicate skin of your throat, making every breath feel shallow, dangerous, intoxicating.

"You gonna come for me?" he mused, his voice a lazy drawl, thick with arrogance. "Or you still gonna pretend this ain't what you wanted all along?"

You couldn't answer—not with the way he was fucking you with his fingers, not with the way your whole body was unraveling, breaking apart, coming undone.

And he knew it.

He fucking knew it.

“I’m gonna–oh god–” you moaned, your back arching at an almost inhuman angle as he kept you pinned, as the knife at your throat kept you grounded, your body caught in that sharp balance between pleasure and fear. “Can I please—please?”

His lips curled against your skin, pleased, smug.

“Love when you beg so pretty,” he murmured, voice rough, thick with indulgence. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of your pulse point, dragging slow over the frantic beat beneath your skin, teasing, threatening. His fingers didn’t slow, didn’t ease up, didn’t fucking stop, working you harder, dragging you right to the edge.

His grip never wavered, the blade steady, firm, resting against your pulse like a silent threat. Like a promise.

"Come. Now." The command was rough, guttural, fingers driving into you harder, sharper. "Don’t hold back. Don’t fucking fight it. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Give it up, bunny."

Your mouth dropped open, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hit you all at once, your whole body tightening, legs threatening to give out, the pleasure tearing through you so violently it almost hurt.

And just as you shattered apart in his hands—

He bit down. Hard.

Teeth sinking into your neck, marking you, branding you, his mouth hot and unrelenting, drinking down every sound, every desperate cry as you came around his fingers, as you broke completely.

Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks rolling through you in uneven waves as his teeth finally eased from your neck, lips dragging over the fresh mark he’d left behind. You barely had the chance to catch your breath before his fingers slid from inside you, leaving you empty, aching, still twitching from the force of your release.

You gasped as he pulled back, his grip steady as he guided you upright, keeping you from collapsing entirely. The knife was gone now, slipped away just as quickly as it had appeared, but the ghost of its cold steel still lingered against your throat, the reminder settling deep in your bones.

Still catching your breath, your limbs felt weightless, unsteady, the lingering tremors in your legs making it nearly impossible to hold yourself upright. You weren’t sure if you would have moved at all if it weren’t for the sudden warmth of his hand wrapping around yours.

Your fingers twitched in his grip, a brief hesitation, but he didn’t let go. His touch was firm, grounding, leading you away from the door with a slow, deliberate pull. 

Your legs wobbled, still weak, but he didn’t seem concerned. If anything, the smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he liked seeing you like this—wrecked, breathless, too unsteady to even move without his help.

"Not done with you yet, bunny," he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he led you across the room.

You barely registered the direction he was taking you, still floating somewhere between the high of release and the lingering haze of adrenaline. It wasn’t until your hips hit the edge of something solid that your mind caught up.

The counter.

The mirror in front of you was wide, stretching across the wall above the surface, the reflection hazy in the dim motel lighting. You could see yourself—disheveled, undone, lips swollen, the fresh mark on your throat already bruising. And behind you, he stood close, his body radiating heat, his grip still wrapped around your wrist. He pulled your hand to rest with his at your lower back, only one hand to support yourself up on the cold countertop as he bent you in half.

“Right here, bunny,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, lower, almost soothing. His other hand smoothing over your waist, fingers tracing over your hips as he guided you into place.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, following the line of his arms, the shape of his body hidden under the pink robe caging you.

And just beyond it, in the reflection—

The bed.

The body.

It’s head was turned in your direction, almost like it was watching.

A fresh chill crawled down your spine, sinking its teeth into the heat still simmering in your veins. You swallowed, pulse flickering unevenly, but before your mind could catch up, his lips brushed your shoulder, warm and slow.

“Eyes up,” he murmured, voice deep and edged with something almost… gentle. “I want you to watch.”

His grip on your wrist loosened, fingers brushing over your knuckles for a fleeting second before he let go. For half a second, you thought maybe he was easing up.

Then his hands were back on you—rough, unrelenting, impatient.

You barely had time to brace yourself before he ripped your jeans down, yanking them past your hips with one sharp tug, the force of it knocking you further against the counter. The denim scraped down your thighs, dragging over your knees before he picked up each of your feet to take them off completely, discarding them across the room.

The second they hit the floor, he was already hooking his fingers into your panties, wasting no time before peeling them off too, this time slower, like he was teasing himself until you were completely bare for him.

Your breath hitched, a sharp little gasp breaking free—but before you could even react, before you could catch up to reality, his mouth was on you.

“Oh—!” The sound tore from your throat, breathless, shocked, your legs nearly giving out as heat exploded under your skin. Instead of pulling away, instead of standing back up, he dragged you closer, one hand gripping your thigh as his tongue flattened against your folds, licking deep, messy, hungry.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you filled the room, obscene, echoing off the cheap motel walls. You could feel him groan into you, feel the vibration of it, like he was savoring the taste of you, drinking down the remnants of your last orgasm like he needed it, like he couldn’t help himself.

One last slow, filthy swipe of his tongue, and then he pulled away, standing to his full height, his breath warm against your back, the heat of him pressing into you from behind.

"Just needed a taste," he muttered, his voice rough, low, still thick with hunger.

His hand found your hip, fingers digging in, keeping you still as he leaned over you. You could feel him grin, feel the heat of it against your shoulder.

Your gaze snapped to the mirror as you felt him shift behind you.

In his hand that he brought up, was holding your panties. They dangled from his fingers like a trophy, like a fucking prize.

The fabric looked so obscene in his grip, white lace contrasting starkly against the dark red of dried blood still smeared up his wrists, staining the soft material, ruining it.

A slow smirk curled at his lips, eyes locked on yours in the reflection.

“Keepsake,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, before tucking them into the pocket of his robe like they belonged to him all along.

Then, he moved to stand straight, the absence of him making you shiver. Something in your stomach clenched, but then you heard the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor.

Your breath hitched, your gaze drinking him in through the mirror.

He was bare now, the absurd pink robe crumpled at his feet, nothing left between you but heat, want, and the lingering scent of blood still clinging to his skin.

He was all hard muscle and soft belly, broad shoulders tapering into a strong chest, lean but striking, the cut of his hips dipping into the thick, aching proof of his arousal. His arms were strong and gorgeously toned. But it was the blood—streaked across his throat, dried against his knuckles, smeared over the ridges of muscle on his torso—that made your pulse stutter, made you squeeze your thighs together despite yourself.

A slow smirk curled on his lips as he watched you take him in, his hands finding your hips again, pressing against them, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who was in control.

His hand trailed up your spine, slow, deliberate, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive ridges of your back before pressing firm between your shoulder blades. A silent command. A demand. He pushed you down, bending you further over the counter, your chest meeting the cold surface.

A sharp shock of contrast coursed through you—the chill of the countertop biting at your bare skin while your body burned, throbbed, pulsed everywhere he had touched. Your nipples stiffened against the cool surface, the ache mingling with the unbearable heat twisting through your veins. 

“Now,” he rasped, his voice darker now, lower, aching with need. “Let’s see how good you look takin’ it.”

Behind you, he exhaled slowly, dragging his cock through your leaking arousal, teasing, coating himself in you.

“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he muttered, almost in awe, almost reverent. “Drippin’ down your thighs, bunny. Ain’t even touched you properly yet.”

Your breath shuddered, your legs trembling as he pressed in, just the head pushing inside, stretching you open.

The burn was immediate, a sharp, toe-curling ache that had you whimpering, your hands scrambling against the counter, nails dragging against the surface. He was thick, too thick, too big, and he knew it, moving slow, forcing you to take every inch.

"Shhh," he hushed, voice syrup-thick with amusement, smoothing a hand over your lower back as he pushed in deeper. "You can take it, bunny. Bein’ so good for me."

Your walls clenched around him, the sheer stretch of him forcing your body to adjust, forcing your breath to come in ragged gasps as your head swam.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice almost soothing, his thumb stroking lazy circles over your hip, a small, almost mocking comfort as he split you open on his cock. "Givin’ me everythin’, huh? Knew you’d be so good."

He bottomed out with a deep, guttural groan, his fingers tightening on your hips as he held himself there, letting you feel just how deep he was.

Your forehead pressed against the counter, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming in sharp, uneven pants. The stretch was overwhelming, unbearable, too much.

And then he moved.

Not slow. Not gentle.

He pulled back halfway before slamming forward, the force of it shoving you up against the counter, a strangled cry escaping your lips as he set a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass with every deep, unforgiving thrust.

"Fuck—look at you," he rasped, his grip tightening, dragging you back onto him every time you jolted forward. "Takin’ this cock so good, bunny. Soundin’ so pretty."

The praise made your stomach tighten, heat curling deep in your gut, your mind swimming in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you open, taking you apart.

Every thrust was hard, precise, brutal, every inch of him forcing you to take more, to feel more, to drown in it.

His body leaned over you, fingers moving between your legs, finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the swollen flesh. You squirmed, body shaking as the pleasure ripped through you too fast, too hard, pushing you to the edge so quickly it was almost humiliating.

"There it is, bunny. Wanna feel this sweet, tight cunt come on my cock now," he muttered, his breath hot, ragged, teeth grazing your shoulder. "C’mon now. Give it to me."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.

Your orgasm slammed into you like a fucking wrecking ball, pleasure crashing through you in violent, uncontrollable waves as your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, holding him inside you.

His groan was wrecked, almost desperate, his thrusts turning sloppy, frenzied, chasing his own high. But just when you thought you might drown in it, when you thought he might finish just like this, his hands moved again.

His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight at the base of your skull before he yanked you upright, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to the counter for balance.

The mirror loomed in front of you, your reflection raw and ruined, lips parted, sweat-damp hair clinging to your forehead, bruises blooming on your throat.

And behind you—he looked like something primal.

Eyes dark, predatory, hair falling into his face, his skin slick with sweat and streaked with blood. He kept you up against him with his arm snaking around you, the crook of his elbow at your throat, arm smattered with dry blood across your neck.

The sight of him—fucking you, wrecking you, devouring you whole— made your stomach convulse, a fresh wave of arousal pooling low.

His smirk curled against your jaw, his lips dragging against the shell of your ear as he fucked you harder, deeper, forcing you to watch.

"Eyes on the mirror, bunny," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, with possession.

Your pulse thundered, the haze of pleasure still thick, still overwhelming–

But then, his gaze flicked lower.

To the bed. To the body.

His thrusts slowed, just barely, just enough to make you feel the shift.

"Now, tell me somethin'," he muttered, his arm moving back enough to grab your chin with his hand, tilting your head just slightly.

Your eyes followed. The body lay still. Exactly where it had been.

But as you really got a look at the face turned towards you…

Your breath caught.

Your whole body locked up.

He watched you in the mirror, his smirk widening as your expression shifted, as the horror finally settled into your features.

"That’s right," he murmured, mock sympathy laced through his voice. "You know him, don’t you, bunny?"

The realization crashed down like ice water, freezing the lingering heat in your veins, making your stomach twist so violently you thought you might be sick.

A choked sound escaped you, something weak, something small.

Because you did.

The man lying motionless on the bed—

It was the man you had seen earlier.

The one who had been watching you.

The image slammed into you all at once.

That feeling. That thick, crawling awareness. The quiet, animal instinct that had made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, that had tightened your stomach before you even knew why.

You had seen him. Standing under that broken streetlight, just watching you.

Not moving, not speaking, not pretending to be anything other than what he was.

A predator.

And now he was dead.

“Oh my god,” you heard yourself say, somewhere in the distant haze of it all.

The room tilted, spun, a wave of cold terror slamming through you so hard it nearly sent you forward.

But before you could collapse under the weight of it, before you could fall completely into the abyss of fear choking you from the inside out,  the man slammed his cock into you again with a force so hard you cried out, the force of it shoving you forward, his arm back at your throat, keeping you against his chest, forcing you to take him deeper, to feel every brutal, punishing inch of him.

"Oh, that get you goin’, bunny?" His voice was low, mocking, thick with amusement as his grip tightened around your neck, forcing you to look. Your reflection stared back at you, ruined, wrecked, your eyes wide with fear, your body still trembling, still taking every brutal thrust he gave you.

"That why you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight? You like that? Liked knowin’ what I did for you?"

He slammed into you again, harder, deeper, forcing you to take it, forcing you to feel it.

"The thing is, bunny," he grunted, his breath ragged, his pace unrelenting, "I saw the way he was watchin’ you. Saw the way he was followin’ you from the second your car pulled in."

His fingers dug into your shoulder as his arm held you tight against him, his grip bruising, possessive as his mouth was hot in your ear.

"I saw the way he looked at you. That sick fuck was plannin’ somethin’. Could see it all over his face. I wanted to rip him apart the moment I saw him."

His thrusts grew rougher, sharper, more desperate, like the memory of it alone was sending something wild through him.

"So I did."

He exhaled against your cheek, his voice dropping so low it barely rose above the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"And then…" His pace never faltered, never softened, rolling his hips slow but deep, letting you feel every inch of him, letting you think about what you’d done. "I didn’t even have to come lookin’ for you."

His arm tightened on your throat, just enough to feel your pulse race beneath his bloodied skin.

"You found me, didn’t you, bunny?”

A soft chuckle, dark and pleased.

"Coulda kept walkin’. Coulda gone right back to your room, pretended you didn’t see a damn thing." His free hand continued the slow, taunting circles over your clit, too much and not enough all at once. It wasn’t just teasing—it was methodical, cruel, meant to keep you exactly where he wanted you, stuck between the horror twisting in your gut and the unbearable pressure building lower. "But you just had to see, didn’t you? Had to come find the monster all by yourself."

The words hit something deep again, because he was right.

You had been running from something all night, but it wasn’t just your family, wasn’t just the life waiting for you back home. You had been searching for something, something dangerous, something that made you feel, something that made your blood rush hot in your veins and your stomach twist in knots.

And when you had heard the body hit the floor, when you saw the blood on the doorstep—when your pulse had spiked, not from terror, but from something else entirely—you had known.

You could have ignored it. Should have locked yourself away in your room. Should have closed your eyes and forced yourself to sleep, but you hadn’t.

You had walked straight to him.

You had found him.

And now, he had you.

Your whole body tensed, your fingers curling against the countertop, your lungs locking up like they couldn’t decide whether to gasp for air or hold it in forever. The horror, the pleasure, the realization—it all crashed into you at once, an unbearable, unstoppable wave that swallowed you whole.

It was too much. The fear, the shame, the pleasure—all tangled together until there was no telling where one ended and the other began. The pressure in your stomach wound so tight it ached, so tight it burned, so tight it felt like it might rip you in two.

He kissed the corner of your jaw, slow and taunting, lips curling against your sweat-damp skin.

"You’re all mine now, little bunny." 

The pleasure hit like a shockwave, ripping through you, forcing a cry from your lips so raw you barely recognized it as your own. Your walls clenched down around his fingers, pulsing, spasming, locking onto him like they never wanted to let go.

Your body convulsed, trembling violently in his hold, wrung out so hard it almost hurt. Your head spun, your vision blurred, your pulse pounded between your legs as wave after wave dragged you under, over and over, pulling you deeper until there was nothing left but the aftermath—wreckage and ruin and the undeniable truth settling heavy in your chest.

"And you’re always gonna remember who got to you first."

The words should have felt like a brand, like a claim.

Maybe they did.

Maybe that’s why, when your vision finally cleared, when your gaze lifted to meet his black eyes in the mirror…

Your lips curled into a grin.

[rebo-chan]

Something I was thinking about lately is Tsuna's daddy issues. Specifically this frame.

Like that's such a loaded thing to think about. He's got so much resentment built up. Obviously, there's no direct connection to any of Tsuna's issues made but I think a few fun things can be said from this. In general, Tsuna clearly didn't have a father figure in his life which sorta results in him leaning on Reborn pretty often. Tsuna doesn't have a very stable self-esteem with him going from confident to "Aah, Gokuderas going to become disillusioned with me now that all my flaws have been pointed out." GOKUDERA. His FIRST SUBORDINATE. The guy who literally has been LOYAL FROM DAY ONE. Not that we consider them canon, but this happens also during the filler arcs where Daemon points out that Tsuna's not worth following to Gokudera and it seems to make Tsuna a little antsy. He DOES NOT THINK THE PEOPLE HE LOVES ARE GOING TO STAY WITH HIM, THIS IS LITERALLY RUINING MY LIFE. What Daddy Issues DO TO A MF. But that's a post for another day. But okay, back to Reborn, Reborn proves himself to be immovable from Tsuna's life. The story points out that Tsuna very much has two fathers. The one who won't leave and the one who is always gone. Tsuna really leans on Reborn throughout the series. "Reborn, what do I do?" Is a common thing he says, until Reborn is literally swept away from him against his will in Future arc where he's forced to think that he's half a person in Reborns absence. Meanwhile, we have Iemitsu who Tsuna has resentment built up towards, does not respect, and is forced to acknowledge in order to win his fight. Throughout the rainbow arc battle, they try to point out that Iemitsu is trying to teach Tsuna something here and unless I'm confused (someone feel free to tell me?) it's not really clear WHAT that is. And I've always thought that was neat, because it's obviously coming from Tsuna's inability to respect Iemitsu enough to want to learn anything from him. Yet when Reborn comes in, hell he doesn't even recognize him in his Adult form, but he politely listens and takes his advice seriously. In the grand scheme of the series, Reborn is a good teacher and father figure in his life. When Tsuna is made to feel like that he can't do anything in Reborn's absence during Future, Reborn takes a step back in that arc and lets him learn to survive without his guidance. (Notice how the training almost entirely disappears after Future.) He lets him learn how to be a person without him, only stepping in to help when Tsuna really needs it. When he's unable to light his flame, with Spanner, or when he's freaking out about the Irie reveal, the list really goes on. There's a scene I recall I believe when Yuni asks to join their group, Tsuna still turns to ask Reborn what to do, and Reborn redirects him by asking him what he wants to do. That it was his call as a boss. And Tsuna ends up making the decision to help her off his own accord.

It's with Reborn's guidance that Tsuna ends up learning to be his own person, it's this guidance that allows him to make the decision and gather everyone on his own accord when it was Reborn's turn to be shaky and give up. Where Tsuna tells him that he's got this under control, without his guidance. To just watch him. "you've always knew I could win before." It's this arc where Reborn's pride in Tsuna shines. Multiple times. "Surprise me again, Tsuna." And he does. It's in Reborn's second absence where Tsuna feels himself get shaky again, feels the old feelings of poor self image crop up, that Reborn comes back. Because Reborn is not Iemitsu, and he wasn't someone who left him in that house alone forever. Because he's still young and has much to learn before he's ready to do this on his own. It's at this he feels a little embarrassed about how glad he is that Reborn came back, but then recalls the "mean words" that Reborn said before leaving. It's here that Reborn tells him it's a good thing he hasn't changed much. Another sliver of guidance that Tsuna takes in from the figure in his life that won't leave him alone in that house.

[riordanness]

bed chem — [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 1.4K

warnings: the morning after, alcohol, discussions about sex/loss of virginity. no smut.

Sun shines through the blinds, my bed as comfortable, warm, and cozy as ever… until I roll over, only to see him.

The one person I’d always promised myself I wouldn't spend a night with.

Percy Jackson.

I sit up abruptly with a gasp, staring down in horrified realisation at my enemy. The enemy who is currently asleep beside me.

Percy's head is tilted to the side, his messy dark hair falling in his face, mouth open slightly, drooling onto the pillow. The covers were half on him, clearly pushed down from sleep. His tanned torso is on display, and I force my eyes away.

Oh gods, I think. He's naked. I'm naked.

Percy begins stirring, mumbling in his sleep before his eyes flutter open, those seagreen ones that make girls (not me) swoon. He looks up at me, blinking a few times as he processes the situation.

"Morning," is the first thing out of his mouth, his voice rough.

I'm still staring at him, open-mouthed.

He smirks as he realises I’m staring at his chest, and props himself up on his forearms.

"See something you like?" he teases, his eyes glittering mischievously.

I blink, forcing myself out of my horrified stupor. "What the hell is going on?" I manage, my voice slightly shaky.

He chuckles sleepily, sitting up a bit more and running a hand through his messy hair. He looks just as dishevelled as I feel.

"Well," he drawls, his grin widening, a stupid twinkle in his eyes. "Looks like we had a bit of fun last night, huh?"

I groan, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my face in them, making sure to hold the sheets tight to my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his smirk drops into a small smile. He reaches out and rubs my back gently, his touch surprisingly tender. For Percy.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs. "We don't have to talk about it right now, if you don't want to."

"I don't ever want to talk to you again," I say immediately, my voice muffled by the navy blue sheets, which makes me realise we’re in his cabin, not mine. Which makes this situation even worse.

He lets out a soft sigh, his hand still rubbing circles on my upper back, which feels awful on my bare skin, and I want to shrink away, but I don’t.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" he asks quietly. "Look, I know we have our... issues, but we clearly spent the night together for a reason."

"Yeah, alcohol."

He can't help but chuckle a bit at that. "Alright, fair enough, alcohol was involved."

He moves his hand from my back to lightly tug at the sheets, trying to see my face. "But that doesn't explain why it was me in your bed, and not someone else."

"Well, I'm putting that on you," I say hatefully. "Because I wouldn't be in bed with you willingly."

Percy's smile fades a bit at my harsh words, his expression turning serious.

"Hey," he says firmly. "That's not fair, and you know it." He runs a hand through his messy hair again, sighing heavily. "I don't like you, y'know. I never have. But I wouldn't... I wouldn't have done that without your consent."

I slowly lift my head. "You promise?"

He nods, his sea-green eyes locking with mine.

"I promise," he says sincerely. "You might think I'm a jerk, but I'd never take advantage of someone like that. Especially not you."

"Well, it was a mistake." I have a bitter taste in my mouth, and part of me wants to cry.

Percy's expression fades at the tone in my voice, his eyes turning more serious again.

"Hey," he says softly, his thumb rubbing gently against my knee. "Don't say that. It wasn't a mistake. We both had a good time, didn't we?"

"Don't count on it."

His sea green eyes tighten. "So that's it, huh?" he asks quietly. "You're just going to brush last night off as a drunken mistake and go back to hating my guts?"

"Yep," I say roughly.

He frowns again, his hand tightening slightly around your knee.

"That doesn't seem very fair," he says bitterly. "When it was clearly consensual."

I sigh, lean back against the headboard. Pull the sheets as tightly around me as I can. "You don't get it."

He looks at me more closely, studying my face.

"Then make me understand," he says, his voice softer now. "What do I not get?"

I sigh, look down.

"Talk to me," he prompts gently, his hand moving up to lightly touch my chin, trying to get me to look at him.

"It's not for you to know," I snap. I’m lying. He should know. Out of anyone, he deserves to know it the most.

"Why are you being like this?" he asks, his voice low. "We clearly shared something last night, and now you're shutting me out completely."

"We didn't share anything!" I don't think I meant to yell.

He looks at me in bewilderment, clearly taken aback by my outburst.

"We definitely did something," he retorts, his own voice rising slightly. "And I thought we actually—" he stops himself, realising he was about to say too much.

“What?”

He looks away, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Nevermind," he mutters, his hand falling from my knee. "Forget I said anything."

I close my eyes, let out a breath. “Percy?”

He glances back at me, his expression a mix of hurt and irritation.

"What?" he snaps, his eyes defiant.

I close my eyes tighter. "I'm about to tell you something and you can never ever tell anyone else in the world. I hate you and I'd never tell you if it wasn't for last night, understand?"

"I understand," he says quietly. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

I relax slightly, but I still have my eyes shut. "I gave you my virginity last night."

His eyes go wide in shock, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form a response. He seems stunned, completely speechless for a change.

Finally he finds his voice, his words a hoarse whisper.

"You... I was your first?"

“Yeah.” My eyes open.

His expression softens, the previous anger and pain melting away as he processes my words.

He swallows hard, his hand reaching out to tentatively touch my arm. "Why didn't you tell me? After I said—“ he falters, clearing his throat. "After what we did... why didn't you say something?"

"Probably because we were drunk," I say.

He cringes at the mention of alcohol, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair," he mutters. "But still... you should've said, I would've never..."

He looks at me sheepishly, his hand still resting on my arm. "I know we have our differences, but I wouldn't have done that if I'd known. I'm not that much of a jerk, y'know."

I glance at him in surprise. "What?"

He sighs, running his free hand through his messy hair again.

"I mean, last night was... well, it was fun. In the moment..." He shrugs awkwardly. "But if I'd known that I was your first... I would've, I dunno, I would have slowed down. Made it... special. For you."

I blink, stunned in silence. All I can do is stare at him. "You would'e done that? For me?"

He looks at me almost tenderly, his eyes roaming my face.

"Yeah, I would have," he says quietly. "I know we hate each other, but... this was your first time. It should've been special. Not something you regret waking up to."

I look away, feeling weird all over. I don't know what I think anymore.

He lifts my chin gently with his fingers, making me look back at him. But the motion doesn’t make me want to jerk away.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft. "Look at me. Please."

And for some reason, I do.

He runs his thumb gently over my bottom lip, a small smile playing on his own.

"I mean what I said," he says sincerely. "Last night—it was amazing, don't get me wrong. But if I'd known... I would've been more gentle. Treated you better."

“I hardly remember it,” I admit softly.

"I wish you did," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "It was... incredible. I'm not exaggerating when I say you look beautiful when you—" He cuts himself off, his face reddening as he realises what he was about to say.

I feel myself flush too, and I look away again.

"You're not exactly making this easy for me, y'know," he mutters. "You're not supposed to be...cute. You're supposed to be a pain in my ass."

“I am a pain in your ass,” I retort, but it’s almost a joke.

He laughs, and the sound is gentle, soft. “Maybe,” he almost whispers, “but maybe something has changed now.”

And he was right. Maybe something had.

[rafeysbangs]

lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 03

pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader

content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.

summary ; rafe cameron is everything you can’t stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brother’s best friend, he’s always been a constant presence, one you’ve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. you’ve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, you’re forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isn’t so easy to hate after all.

status ; ongoing .ᐟ

✺ navigation ; 002. 003. 004.

THREE, close enough to see.

THE SUN SHONE THROUGH YOUR MESH CURTAINS.

you had hoped that waking up early and getting a head start on your morning would help you avoid rafe, but the universe had other plans. as you entered the kitchen, your bare feet slapping lightly against the cool tile, you froze at the sight of him. rafe, was already there. he was sitting at the counter, wearing nothing but gym shorts he'd previously left behind and nursing a cup of coffee, looking unusually sober. his tousled hair was messier than usual, and his posture was stiff, almost guarded.

you narrowed your eyes, almost not believing the sight in front of you. "you're still here?"

he glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his expression blank. "it's not like i can go home right now."

you pursed your lips, walking past him to the fridge. you weren't about to be polite to him after everything that had happened. after all, you had practically dragged him into your house in the middle of the night and saved him. but as you reached for the milk, you couldn't ignore the silence that hung between the two of you. it was different this time. there was no smirking, no cocky remarks, no teasing. just... coldness. like he was shutting himself off from you.

"why aren't you out causing trouble?" you muttered, trying to break the tension.

rafe took a sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on the counter, "'m not in the mood."

you raised an eyebrow. you couldn't decide whether you were feeling relieved or annoyed. after everything that had happened the night before, you were expecting him to be insufferable. instead, he seemed almost... peaceful. in some disturbing way.

you sat down at the table, your usual irritation bubbling to the surface. "what, you're not gonna make fun of me for saving your ass?"

he didn't answer right away, and when he did, his voice was lower than usual. "you did what you had to do. don't need you to rub it in."

you blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. you were used to rafe being loud, obnoxious, always with something sharp to say, but this... this was different. he wasn't even looking at you now, staring into his coffee cup like it held all the answers to the universe.

"you don't need anyone," you said, the words coming out more harshly than you intended. "you always act like you can handle everything on your own, like you don't care about anything."

"and what's so wrong with that?" rafe's voice was cold, sharper than before, but still lacking its usual bite. "it's better than pretending everything's fine like you do."

and then his words hit harder than you expected, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. your gaze flickered to him, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. but you quickly shoved that thought aside. you hated feeling sorry for him. he was just a mess who got by on charm and recklessness, a mess you had no intention of getting tangled up in again.

but even as you thought that, you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe... just maybe, he was right. maybe she did pretend everything was fine, and maybe that was why you felt so suffocated all the time. you shook your head, as if to physically shake off the thought itself. 

"you're impossible," you muttered, standing up and walking to the sink. "why do i even bother..."

rafe didn't respond. he just stared at his coffee, his face unreadable. you almost didn't notice when he shifted, his movements stiff and deliberate.

"thanks," he said quietly, the word catching you off guard. "for... last night. for not leaving me to fend for myself."

your heart skipped a beat, but you didn't let it show. "don't mention it," you replied stiff, turning your back on him. you had never heard actual manners come out of rafe's mouth before, let alone a polite word towards you. 

rafe didn't say anything else.

as you stared at the mostly empty kitchen, a strange knot twisted in your stomach. there was something about rafe's words, the way he had seemed almost vulnerable for a moment, that unsettled you. you'd always seen him as nothing but trouble, someone who thrived on chaos and attention. but maybe there was more to him than that. maybe you'd seen something you weren't supposed to see. and the worst part was, it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

with a frustrated sigh, you finished your coffee, determined to forget about him. but as you did, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was more to rafe cameron than you had ever realised. maybe cora was right. you shuddered at the notion. 

the silence in the kitchen was thick, almost suffocating, until carter finally stumbled in, his hair a mess and his eyes barely open. he yawned as he shuffled to the coffee pot, glancing at rafe as he poured himself a cup. you had hoped the morning would pass quietly, but it seemed like the universe was intent on ruining your peace.

"you're up early," carter muttered, rubbing his eyes, taking no notice to rafe just appearing in the house.

"couldn't sleep," rafe shrugged, still avoiding eye contact, his voice quiet

carter nodded slowly, taking a sip of his coffee before glancing at him again, the sleepiness starting to wear off. "so, i woke up to about fifty texts from ward. he's pissed. apparently, he's been texting  our parents, asking where you are. said you didn't come home last night."

you froze. your heart skipped a beat at the mention of ward, and a sudden flush of irritation rushed over you.

rafe, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed. he just stared at the countertop, his jaw clenched, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup in a slow, almost methodical way. "ward's always pissed about something," he muttered. "nothing new."

carter sighed and leaned back against the counter, still looking at rafe. "well, you're lucky he doesn't know where you are."

you glanced at rafe, suddenly annoyed. why was he still here? why hadn't he gone home yet? he was like a shadow, lingering, and it was starting to get under your skin. you were still on edge from the previous night.

"you know, it's fine if you want to stick around for a bit," carter said, glancing over at you with a slight grin. "mom and dad are gone for the next two weeks, so it's not like we have to deal with them. you can crash here for as long as you want."

your eyes shot daggers at carter. "seriously... you're inviting him to stay longer? have you lost your mind?"

rafe, who had been quiet up until now, gave you a cold look. his eyes met yours for the first time that morning, his gaze hard and unfaltering. "i'm not here to cause problems," he said, his voice calm but somehow carrying a weight that made her uneasy. "i didn't ask for any of this."

"right." you muttered, rolling your eyes. you couldn't tell if he was being genuine or just playing another game, but either way, the idea of him sticking around made your stomach twist. now you'd be forced to deal with him for even longer, and you had no idea if he'd continue to be the quiet, distant version of himself or slip back into his old ways.

carter shrugged, clearly not bothered. "you'll get used to it. you've lived with me, one more guy in the house won't be too bad."

"yeah, that's gonna be a real treat," you snapped back, crossing your arms slowly. the thought of rafe being around all the time, unpredictable and infuriating, filled you with a mixture of frustration and unease. sure, he wasn't as bad as she expected this morning, but what if this was just a temporary lull? what if he went back to being a reckless asshole the moment he was comfortable again?

you couldn't help but wonder if he was even capable of being decent for longer than a few hours. you had seen a side of rafe you weren't ready to acknowledge, and it left you feeling off-balance. the usual sarcasm and bravado were gone, replaced by something quieter, something more... human. and that bothered you more than you could fathom.

"i don't know," you muttered, your voice quieter this time, not really addressing anyone. "it's just weird."

"it's just for a little while, sis," carter said, his tone light. "and besides, you never know, maybe rafe will actually behave himself. not like we have a whole lot of options anyway."

"great," you muttered, your eyes narrowing at rafe.

there was a long, uncomfortable silence that settled between them. carter went back to his coffee, clearly not bothered by anything that was happening, while you found herself biting your lip, unsure of what to do with yourself. you weren't exactly thrilled to have rafe underfoot for the next two weeks, and you weren't sure how to feel about the fact that he hadn't been completely insufferable yet.

but one thing was certain: whether you liked it or not, he wasn't going anywhere.

you walked into the house, bags of groceries weighing down your arms. the familiar sounds of a video game blared from the living room, and you could hear carter's voice over the noise. "hey, sis. join us, we're about to thrash these guys."

you glanced toward the living room, where rafe was sitting next to carter, intensely focused on the game. as soon as your eyes met, rafe immediately looked away, like he was deliberately avoiding your gaze. you sighed inwardly. you weren't in the mood for his attitude right now.

"nah, i'm good," you said, dropping the bags on the counter. "got a book to finish."

you heard carter call after you, but you didn't respond, already retreating up the stairs. the tension between you and rafe was thick, and you weren't sure how to deal with it. you weren't used to him being so distant, and it annoyed you more than you'd like to admit.

a couple of hours later, you came back downstairs, feeling restless. the house was quieter now, and when you walked into the kitchen, you found rafe and carter deep in conversation.

"we should throw a party this weekend," carter was saying, his grin wide as he stared at rafe. 

"yeah," rafe agreed, leaning back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. "let's get everyone over, make it huge."

you froze at the mention of a party. you had been thinking about it earlier, but now, hearing rafe talk about it, you couldn't help but feel irritated. he was always the one to stir things up, and the last thing you wanted was a repeat of the chaos he always brought with him, and under your roof.

"you sure about that?" you said folding your arms. "because we both know what happens when you throw a party, rafe. things get... chaotic."

rafe shot her a quick, almost bored look. "it'll be fine. i'll try to keep it under control."

you raised an eyebrow, not sure if you believed him. carter, however, didn't seem fazed at all.

"come on, it'll be fun," carter insisted, grinning. "just a few friends, some music. nothing crazy."

"yeah, right," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "because nothing crazy ever happens with you two involved."

they both glanced at each other and laughed, and for the first time that night, you didn't feel the weight of the tension hanging between them. maybe it was the thought of a party, maybe it was the fact that rafe wasn't firing back like he usually did. either way, you were starting to feel a little more relaxed.

"come on," carter added, not noticing your skepticism. "you can hang with us, like the old days."

like the old days, you hesitated. the mention of a time before when you always used to hang out with your older brother and his best friend, a time before rafe had turned into a colossal asshole. you weren't sure if you were ready to spend the whole night with him, but the idea of a party - the excitement, the noise, the distraction - was definitely appealing. you weren't going to let rafe ruin that for you.

"maybe," you said, pretending to think it over. "i'll see how much rafe decides to destroy this place first."

rafe smirked at you, finally meeting your eyes. "don't worry. i've got it under control."

you rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. you didn't believe him, but for once, he wasn't being completely insufferable.

later, after you all made dinner together - well, mostly you and carter, with rafe occasionally making sarcastic comments - things started to feel a little less awkward. rafe wasn't as obnoxious as usual. instead of teasing you in a way that made her want to strangle him, he was doing it in a less painful, almost playful way. it was strange, almost like he wasn't trying to get under your skin anymore. almost.

you tried to push the thought out of your head as you cleaned up the dishes. you couldn't get too comfortable around him, not after all this time. but still, there was something different in the air tonight.

once dinner was over, yoou slipped away to your room and grabbed your phone. you quickly typed out a text to cora, you knew she'd get excited for a party, no matter who was throwing it.

you: so they're throwing a party this weekend... rafe and carter, of course.

cora: seriously?? i'm in. just tell me the time and i'll be there.

you smiled as you sent the text. despite all your reservations, you couldn't help but feel a little buzz of excitement at the idea of the party. maybe it wouldn't be so bad. after all, what's a party without a little rafe cameron chaos.

notes ; yippee, no.3. thank you for reading !!

taglist ;  @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @foolishangelic @i2rapunzel @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafestoothbrush @drewizz ( lachesism taglist )

[fanofthings20]

Rio Vidal x Reader Angst Request

This was requested by @miraslittlecrow. I hope this story is what you were hoping for! Thank you for the request and the fun challenge, I'm sorry it took me so long to finally posted it and I do apologize if this is a complete disaster!!

All the promtps are highlighted in bold and were created by the amazing and talented @me-writes-prompts

Without further ado, after 14-hour days for 7 straight, internet issues, about 16 rewrites, and changing the prompts about three times here is the story. Until next time farewell and happy Agatha All Along episode 7 night!!

___________________________________________________________

It was after midnight when a bloody, beaten, and worn-down soul returned home. Trying their hardest to stay silent to not alert their wife now that they were finally home after being delayed for an additional two days than the original eight days that was originally expected. You would have been back two hours ago but you were determined to patch yourself up the best you could so your wife who would no doubt already be worried about the delay, it would only stress her to see injuries and put the lives you just risked everything for in grave danger from her wrath. This is the downside to having the job of a life guardian with protection witch abilities while your wife is Lady Death who is protective and quick to anger.

Turning into the living room has you feeling lightheaded and your using the back of the couch as a crutch to keep yourself upright. You waited for a few minutes till the feeling passed thinking it was safe managing to round to the front of the couch before feeling a wet sensation against your left hand that was holding your right side. Pulling your hand off your side you see that the stitches for that large gash had ripped again and you'd already lost so much blood you barely made it onto the couch before the rest of your strength left you.

Meanwhile, Rio had been forced to collect more souls in the last four days than she would have liked. She would much rather wait at home for y/n to return, given that they were already two days behind their return date. Unfortunately, Death waits for no one, and Rio was super-speeding the process intending to get home faster. Finally, arriving at the house for the last two souls that needed to be collected tonight it happened to be an elderly couple. Rio always enjoyed collecting elderly couples who passed together because it was well deserved. Even though she was in a rush to get home she took her time with this couple getting to know them while providing a smooth transition.

When she returned to the living world she felt a searing pain in her chest at the same time it felt like a soul was close to collection. The searing pain was from the bond with her wife that alone was concerning enough but in occurrence as the death call skyrocketed Rio’s panic and in her rush to get home she teleported to the wrong location twice before finally making it home. Running up the path barreling through the door, and using magic to close the door the house was dark no lights had been turned on. Rio was using their bond to range how close she was to y/n and her ability to adjust to the darkness to rush up the stairs to their bedroom.

Upon crossing the bedroom’s threshold she noticed the room was untouched. Stopping long enough to check the bathroom before she rushed back downstairs, she was on the way to their back porch which was your favorite spot had it not been for the weak whimpering sound you made on the couch from jostling your injury. The sound had her turned around and on her knees at your side in a split second using her magic she turned on the living room lamps which illuminated your state to her. Normally nothing would phase her but your bruised state and the extent of your injuries were unlike any you had ever bared before. She knew the insane risks of your job as a life guardian but had been managing until now but she could no longer put off the conversations she had been withholding from you anymore.

Your voice was so weak when you tried putting on the brave act of “It’s fine, I’m okay-“ but she was quick to gently cut you off with “No you’re not, you’re injured and it’s all their fault!”. She was so sick of the fools who lived without abandon and required a life guardian to keep living. If she could she’d gladly take all their souls in an instant to keep you from harm but she couldn’t break the cycle of life rules without major consequences. If you didn’t require her immediate attention and care to keep you from being the next soul she was forced to collect she would be out that door in a second to give the person you risked everything such a life-altering scare to keep them from needing you ever again.

But you needed her now, especially with the large gash that was gushing blood out. She took out her favorite curved knife to cut your shirt off so she could have full access to your injuries to heal them. When your shirt had been removed and the true extent of your injuries was revealed to her, she was scared that she couldn’t heal it. The gash went from your right side across your abdomen it was deep with significant blood loss your other symptoms included breathing faster than normal, feeling confused and weak, sweating, low body temperature, fast pulse and slowly losing consciousness.

Rio tried to be gentle but she could only go so far when she had to put her hands directly on your wounds to heal it with her magic. Putting pressure on your wounds and the magic closing them again, causing you immense pain that had your already exhausted body past its limit to where your whimpering increased along with your feeble attempts to get away from Rio’s hands. Your rational side knew Rio was helping but you were so confused by the pain and blood loss that you weren’t capable of seeing it as helping. Rio couldn’t take her hands away from your wounds yet so all she could currently offer you were words of love to try and ease your confusion and discomfort.

“Cara Mia, I know it hurts”

“Your going to be okay”

“It’s almost over mi amor”

“We are going to have a long conversation when this is all over”

Rio had finally finished healing your wounds and could take her hands off your abdomen. You had passed out when the wound was halfway through mending. After she checked your heartbeat and breathing status, she walked to the kitchen where she collected a bowl of water and a hand towel to wash both her hands and clean you off the best she could. When you were cleaned off Rio took a few minutes to lay her head over your abdomen to feel you breathing and leave a trail of kisses along where your newest scar lies trying to calm her racing heart and remind herself you were still here with her. There wasn’t much she could offer for blood loss but two potions, food, hydration, and rest.

When she left you this time it was a return trip to the kitchen to clean the bloody bowl and prepare the potions and food. Who knows how long you’ll be passed out for so it was a waiting game for Rio which gave her time to think about one of your earlier interactions and what she wanted to say to you after all these years of holding back. One of her favorite interactions was when you had presumably saved her from a booby-trapped section of the woods. You did not know that she was Death at the time, there had been many interactions between you both throughout the years. You thought she was alluring, irresistible, and you knew this section of the wood was trapped. She had stepped on a hidden pressure plate for the arrow bolt's release, but before one could hit her, she instantly knew it was you. Hell, yall had fucked so many times at this point that you could recognize each other instantly just by your bodies. “You saved me back there…you didn’t have to. You could’ve gotten yourself kille-” (Rio) “I’d always choose you over myself. You should be well aware of that by now, my dear.” (You).

It had caught her off guard how willing you were to always put her first over yourself. Dare she say that made you even sexier in her eyes and so much harder to deny feelings for you anymore. She almost lost you tonight in more ways than one, physically and she would have been forced to take your soul from the living world to the soul realm a place she could never enter. She finished making everything and kept the food warm with her magic going back into the living room carefully lifting your head and sliding in under you. She ran a hand through your hair while the other was holding your wrist keeping track of your heartbeat.

She knew you probably wouldn’t hear or remember this conversation but she needed to say it to you “You know, you don’t have to do this. You don’t always have to stand up for people. I worry that no one will stand up for you in return when the time comes, because they take you for granted. And I hate that.” “Let me help you, please. I can’t stand on the side, quietly staring at all the scars you carry.” She couldn’t stand by anymore in the shadows and let you do this alone, there were only so many years where she’d let you go but now if you ever fully recovered from this she would be at your side from now on.

[r0adkillz-d3lusi0nz]

Tim Wright [MH] — NSFW Alphabet

god did i have fun writing this 😈 and i hope you have fun reading it!!

*all these headcanons are assuming s/o and Tim are already in a relationship, I don’t see him as one to have fuck buddies or one-night-stands.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) It’s a different story between Tim and Masky. One will check up on you, ask how it was and how you feel, if you need anything, and will clean you up if you just wanna cuddle/sleep after. And then the other one is less attentive. At most he’ll lazily clean you up if you insist and bring you water if you really need it and he’s not feeling lazy enough not to do so. And he just won’t stay around longer than necessary, in his mindset he’s got “better shit to do.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I feel like Tim’s and Masky’s favorite body part of themselves is their arms. ‘Cause they’re strong, useful, and Masky loves to easily pin you down while Tim loves holding you.

Now their favorite body part of yours would be your ass and thighs. Idk he strikes me as a thigh man. And ass. Ass and thigh. Masky doesn’t really mind that stuff as long as he’s got a hole to put it in (sorry but he’s just not romantic like that).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Breeding kink, anyone? Tim would have one. Thinking about knocking you up and making a pretty little family really does it for him. Yk gives him hope that he can have a normal life for a little bit. Even if you can’t get pregnant, he likes to entertain that idea in his head while he’s balls-deep in you. So that means he will cum inside as long as you let him. Oh also he cums a lot, and it’s more thick than watery (bro doesn’t have a balanced diet cmon y’all, with all those blackouts and stuff? yeah I think not).

Masky likes cumming on your face, with your tongue out. Feels like he’s marking you. But also humiliating you. So he gets a little kick out of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Tim doesn’t need Masky to front to be stealing your underwear, lemme tell you that. If he could, before you were dating, he was already making a collection of used underwear of yours. Yes he sniffed them while jerking off and yes he sniffed them to sleep sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) I’d say you’re not his first but, again, he doesn’t strike me as the kind to have fuckbudies or one-night-stands. Ig he knows what he’s doing and he’s a good learner when it comes to what you like, but he’s not like a fuckboy or anything-

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Doggy, leap frog (yk basics from behind, he loves your ass remember?), if Tim’s tired then he’ll let you ride him. Now Masky likes it from behind too but more forceful, he’ll like- make the bed creak and won’t stop til he’s either done or you’re begging him to stop. He might not even stop if you blackout on him, who knows.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Tim’s rarely goofy at all so no. He’s got more of a romantic, focused attitude when it comes to intimacy with you. And Masky just doesn’t talk at all unless it’s to give you a command or degrade you. He fucks you like he hates you. He doesn’t though, he’s more… obsessed with you? Tim’s there cause he’s in love, Masky lets him bc he’s obsessed. Makes sense?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) we all know our man is hairyyyy and if you don’t mind he doesn’t trim regularly, he can’t bother to do so with so much stuff in his mind. If you do mention it he’ll try to keep it trimmed for you. Don’t expect him to shave entirely (at least not often).

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Ok so. You had to work it out with Tim before he could be comfortable being intimate with you. He’s got trust issues so it took a while before he actually felt comfortable being intimate and vulnerable. Not a bunch of “I love you”s and cuddles the first few times, that happened after a while. Now Masky just… can’t be intimate for the life of him. Ask him to be a little more intimate and he’ll laugh at your face (chuckle, we know he doesn’t laugh a lot).

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Before you? Rarely, like twice or thrice a week maybe. After you? Yk, before dating you but when he was stalking getting to know you? A lot. When he’s with you he prefers to take it out on you, so rarely once more.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) well well well… this is a long one if I elaborate, so lemme just list them…

previously mentioned breeding kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, somnophilia, sadism, corruption, degradation. These are both Tim’s and Masky’s so uh have fun.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Tim prefers privacy, so your/his bed, the shower, etc. Masky doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll have you whenever he wants you. He finds the car the most common place to fuck you in, though. If you’re out doing something or he just came home frustrated and you go out to greet him, he’ll just drag you to the backseat and fuck the daylights out of you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) For Tim it’s if you’re doing anything domestic. Doing dishes, cooking, cleaning, fixing/cleaning the car? He’s gonna reward you real well later. For Masky it’s whenever he’s pent up or frustrated, he’ll take it out on you by fucking you because he knows he can’t afford to hurt you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Tim hates the idea of actually hurting you. Yk knife play or slapping you. Most he’ll do is spank you and even then he’ll ask if he was too rough and apologize. In contrast, Masky has no restraint. He will do whatever he wants to you, whenever he wants, and you know better than to disobey…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Oh, Tim gives you head like he’s starving. Not like… not messy and eager like Toby would (Toby alphabet also in production) but he’s relentless, gives you good head and won’t stop until you’re overstimulated. Masky hardly ever uses his mouth on you. Only to tease you to the point of tears and then fuck you into oblivion. And he lovessss to force his thick cock down your throat and gag on it- (sorry)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) I’m not original at all with this but idc. Tim’s slow and sensual, maybe he’ll go hard and slow as he gets closer to cumming. Masky just… he doesn’t think about that. If he wants to go agonizingly slow he will, and if he wants to rearrange your guts until your hole bleeds then he will.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Tim isn’t a fan. Masky usually fucks you so rough it feels like a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) As long as you talk it through and already built that trust with Tim, he’s probably open to try things with you. Masky will not ask you if you want to try anything, if he wants to he will. If you propose things to him he’ll laugh at your face (again.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Tim can last up to 2 rounds if the first one wasn’t physically demanding, Masky just needs to cum so as long as he does that he doesn’t really need another round. Unless he’s in a mood and wants to torture you. He’ll drag it out no matter how many times he cums.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) I feel like none of them do. If you do have toys none of them would be interested in trying them, but if you want to implement them, Tim would be totally fine with that, just talk it through. Masky would spiral and ask if he’s just not enough or something, so maybe don’t try with him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Tim doesn’t tease you further than verbally, doesn’t see the need. Masky’s whole deal is teasing you and making you cry for him, so he’s very unfair I’d say.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Loud enough for only you to hear. Grunts and deep, low moans. Masky does not make sound, actually. Somehow he manages to keep it together while making you cry and scream his name.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) If you catch him off-guard you have a chance to hear Tim whimper, but it’s a rare chance. Like, riding him and you kiss a hickey on a specially sensitive part of his neck, and you’ll probably get him to whimper.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) ok so as previously stated, hairy, all over. Strong arms and overall chubby yum yum 🤤 now about his size I’d say average, about 6.5-7 inches and thickkk you’ll feel that dick all the way inside you every timeeee

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Tim’s is not that high, I’d say average. He’s usually busy and tired, most he’ll do is lazy, cuddly sex if you two really need it. Masky’s a little higher but because that’s his coping mechanism for when he’s frustrated.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Tim falls asleep after making sure you don’t need anything else, he falls asleep easily cause he’s with you and you tired him out hehe. Masky doesn’t even stay in bed after he’s done with you. He’ll go out either for a smoke or to do anything else.

hope you stuck around and liked it as much as i liked writing it 🤤 remember reqs are open! here's the list of characters i'll write for!

[ken-dom]

Ken’s First Orgasm

Ken x reader

1.1k words

Summary: Since Ken entered the real world, he’s been experiencing some… feelings (AKA a good orgasm might calm him down)

Author’s Notes: It’s smutty, it’s tongue-in-cheek, it’s a little bit silly… just take it for what it is, enjoy the Kenergy and have fun 🩷

This was my first Ken fic, originally posted to my main blog under the title 'Ken's First Time.' Due to a tagging issue on my main, I'm reposting my works here to have everything in one place.

Warnings/content: NSFW, 18+, first kiss, first orgasm, making out, dry humping, hand job, gn!reader, Ken’s self doubt and nerves (and crying)

‘I’ve been getting these… urges, like, there’s something stirring deep inside me that I can’t seem to tame,’ Ken uttered huskily, fingers toying with the hair by your ear. ‘I think it might be because I’m craving… this.’

Biting his lip, he stared deep into your eyes, the heat of his gaze dropping down to your lips before slowly leaning in.

When you followed his lead, breath quickening as you tilted your head, he faltered, pulling back with a quiet growl and balling his fists in frustration.

He had hung on your every word all day, never taking his eyes off you for a single moment. And you’d noticed the way he lit up every time you looked at him… but now, you began to wonder if you’d done something to put him off.

‘Ken?’ you breathed carefully.

‘I- I’ve never…’ he hesitated.

Oh. That’s all it was. You dipped your head to meet his sparkling eyes again.

‘You’ve never kissed anyone?’ you asked gently, lifting your palm to rest softly against his handsome cheek.

Ken cleared his throat and forced a smile. ‘I’ve tried. Lots of times.’ He lifted his chin with mock confidence, as though trying to kiss was some sort of proud accomplishment. ‘You know how it can be.’

‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, rubbing your thumb soothingly over his cheekbone. Your mind raced with what else he probably hadn’t done either, the thought causing heat to pool at your core. ‘We’ll take it at your pace.’

The silky tone of your voice and the comfort of your words made him feel… dizzy? He blinked his gaze away, blushing. Feeling it again. That pull of something deep in his gut that made him want to submit himself to… whatever it was his body was craving so much. Damn it, he really needed to just get over it and kiss you.

You smiled warmly, leaning in again with pause enough to allow him time to decide. To your delight, he pressed forward, lips crashing soft and wet against yours, and as you parted your lips to encourage his tongue, he moaned loudly into your mouth while his fingertips drove hard into the flesh at your waist.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, it was suddenly hard to remember to breathe, his needy whines and desperate grabbing clouding your thoughts, causing your legs to tremble, but eventually you pulled away, panting.

‘Wow, Ken… that was-’

‘Terrible! I mean, you… you were great. I had no idea what I was doing. I'm not made for kissing, I’m only good at Beach.’ He shook his head, frustrated. ‘I shouldn’t have- mmh!… mmm…’

You shut him up instantly, diving back for more and inadvertently pushing him to lay back on the bed. You straddled him naturally, conscious thought still lost in the haze of excitement.

‘You- you liked it?’ he breathed huskily as you pulled up to get a look at how pretty he was, breathless with anticipation beneath you.

You nodded, humming in approval. ‘And it feels like you did too,’ you smirked, grinding down against his already aching erection.

The noise he made was unearthly, a growl and a whimper and a groan and a desperate exhale all at once. The pressure he had been feeling there released ever so slightly with a small pearl of precum, affording him a moment of bliss between the aching neediness.

You stilled, worried you’d hurt him somehow, but his eyes widened revealing pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates, and you realised it had been a sound of pleasure, not pain.

‘What… was… THAT?’ he cried out breathlessly. ‘That felt incredible! Sublime! That’s it! That’s what I’ve been craving?! Do it again? Please-’

The last word tapered into a whine as you rolled your hips to grind against him again, and he flopped down onto the pillow, eyes rolling back with overwhelming sensations he couldn’t find the words for.

‘Ken?’ you asked softly, leaning down, ‘you’ve never had an orgasm before have you?’

He shook his head.

‘Do you want to?’

He couldn’t catch his breath and his reply came out as a husky whisper. ‘Will it feel like that again?’

‘Better,’ you grinned wickedly.

‘Oh fuck, yes,’ he mumbled, not even realising he’d sworn. ‘Please.’

You leaned in to kiss him again, igniting the flames inside him that had been roaring since the first time you held his hand. Ken moaned in anticipation, closing his eyes tightly, composing and preparing himself.

You rocked your hips only once more and he exploded, fists bunching the sheets while you continued to writhe against him, his back arching off the bed and tears prickling at his eyes as his orgasm tore through every fibre of his being.

It was like nothing else. How had he never so much as wondered what this would be like until he had entered the real world and discovered human feelings and thoughts… and needs.

His chest heaved as he came down from his high, lazily lifting an arm to rest over his forehead in complete surrender while he tried to claw his way back to the present, with you.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with you smiling down at him, nothing short of smug.

‘Was that- did I-?’ he stuttered.

‘You sure did,’ you panted, heart pounding and heat rushing down to keeping your own arousal simmering. God, he was a picture, mussed hair and pink cheeks and heavy eye lids.

‘Oh… oh, that was, it was-’

You chuckled, climbing off him to settle at his side, where he turned to face you.

‘Should I have… you know? Was there something I didn’t do? You didn’t…’

The concern in his eyes was endearing, but you laughed again and he relaxed. Another tear slid down his cheek as you caressed his arm tenderly.

‘Don’t worry, Ken, we have time for that. I get the feeling you’ll be great at… doing stuff. Besides, that wasn’t quite the whole thing. I’m glad it felt good, but there’s a lot more I can show you. If you want me to…’

Ken snorted a disbelieving laugh. ‘Well, good, because these urges I’ve been getting? I think they might have actually been for-’

‘Orgasms,’ you interrupted with a smirk. ‘Yeah, humans tend to get that a lot.’

‘I’m not surprised! How do you get through the day without doing that at regular intervals?’

You laughed, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. ‘It will calm down when you’re a little more used to it. In the meantime… let’s make the most of your libido, yes?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed eagerly, as though the word libido meant anything at all to him. Nevertheless, he was as eager as anything for another round.

‘I’m going to start undressing you this time… if that’s alright?’ you muttered seductively, kissing at his collar bone while your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt.

‘Of course. You don’t have a body like mine for nothing. Well, I suppose it’s main purpose is for Beach, but-’

‘Ken?’

‘Yeah?’

You didn’t use any more words, and he suddenly lost all concept of his own thoughts when your hand slid inside his beach shorts.

‘How does this feel?’ you whispered as your fingers wrapped loosely around his thick length and pumped slowly, lightly. You didn’t want to overwhelm him too soon.

‘R-real- f-fucking- oh!- good, hnnng…’