#and yet there's always the little nagging voice at the end there

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Was This Vacation a Mistake? ~Crazy Rich Asians( Astrid x black! fem! reader)~Part 4

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: Finally back home, you resume your life as a professor but find yourself still thinking about Astrid and the events of the vacation. Lucky for you, someone comes to spare you of any grief you still had.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List(I added folks were commented and enjoyed) : @madeleinecamilanightwood16, @ladydragonpurplefire,

Author's Note: Here's part 4 guys. Sorry this has taken so long. I'm going to try and end this fic this year within the next three chapters. Thank you for reading as always. And if you wanna be added or removed from tag List, let me know.

Classes finally started back, normalcy followed and that was all I could hope for. Everything that happened in Singapore is still there, how can I even try to forget it that fast? Rachel promised to speak about it whenever yet she had her own issues to deal with.

Apparently, she called it off with Nick after the debacle in his homeland; the entire situation has had me torn. I'm sure they'll talk it out, or take a long enough break to figure something out. Or maybe it was my fault, I shouldn't have even gone on the trip in the first place and Rachel would have been engaged right now. Nick's family would love her and not turning up their nose at me, her random Black friend.

I know, I shouldn't think like that. Rachel will nag me about it if she saw me here in my office frowning down at a student's paper. My red pink has marked it enough, perhaps a break is in order.

A soft knock rapped at my door. A student perhaps, Rachel would have texted or called if she needed something.

"Come in," I said, eyes still steady on the page.

A clack of heels and the clack of the door shut follows.

"What can I help you with?"

My pulse quickened at who's in my office now. From the heels I suspected an international student and their fancy abundance but here Astrid was dressed in a low cut white top, black blazer and high rise jeans. Her hair was pulled up and her shades sat on her head.

"I had to see you," she said, smiling softly. "How have you been, darling?"

I stood up, put away the paper I was grading and rushed toward her.

Astrid met me halfway, embracing me gently like I was made of glass, like she did when she first hugged me at her house a few weeks prior. It got firmer once she caressed my back, resting her chin down on my shoulder.

"Everything OK?" she whispered. "Nick's been worried."

"No, he shouldn't be," you groaned. "He should focus on himself, did he send you all the way here? W-What about Cassian?"

Astrid frowned. "Did I come at the wrong time? Cassian has the best nannies looking after him, and I wasn't going to be here long. Was my coming here not what you expected, wanted even?"

I caught the twinge of sadden edging in her voice.

"Y-Yeah, it's unexpected but it's not that I wouldn't want it," I tried explaining through burning cheeks. "You being here is great. I think it'll help."

Astrid stepped back, studying me and my office around us. Everywhere her eyes swept caught me with enough self consciousness to scold myself to clean a bit more around here, take some books back to my apartment sometime during another holiday.

"Your office is quaint, reminds me of you," Astrid said, stepping over to a stack of books I had on the cover of my desk that's stuffed with loose papers. "I bet you've read these dozens of times over, dissected them to bits for classes, yeah?"

I just nodded as our eyes met again.

"Yeah, mostly during undergrad and downtime between semesters now," I said. "I usually just read what the board signs off for my classes and short stories for my kids to tear into during discussions. Rachel and I had a little book club during our mfa time here ages ago."

Astrid chuckled. "Ages?"

"Seven years, give or take, ages to me considering where we are now."

"And where are you both right now, y/n?" Astrid said, crossing her arms.

"We're fine," I said a little too quickly. "Rachel just needs her time, and I-I don't want to mess up things more."

"She'd like to know how you're doing."

"Why? Did she beg you to come here?"

"Of course not. Y/N, are you truly all right?"

I bit my lip; that's a simple but loaded question. Astrid's concentration on me wasn't helping with me being entirely truthful either.

"Not really, no," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Astrid said. "Do you have plans or classes for the rest of the day?"

"Well, I have another half hour of office hours."

"Have they really be in and out of here as of late, dear?"

Astrid stepped back over to the door, peeking from under my blinds for some sort of added measure.

"Ok, I guess my office hours are over today," I said, returning to my desk to push the paper I was grading back into my folder. "The rest of my schedule is clear. Did you have something in mind, Astrid?"

"Let me get your mind off of things, let me take you out?"

My face flushed at her words; she doesn't mean what I think she means, right?

"A-Are you asking me out, Astrid?"

"I don't know, if I say yes will that convince you?"

....

Is this a date or not? I didn't ask, yet the feelings were still there--deep in my stomach, my hands barely worked once we got to the restaurant--a chain not too far from campus.

Astrid even pulled the chair out for me, an act of common courtesy right? Rachel's not here and I can still detect her incredulous stare, hopelessly shaking her head--she'd believe it to be more. Should I text her? No, she needs space, I need to focus on this myself.

"Have you decided?" Astrid said, peeking over her menu. "Or do you need more time?"

"No, I'll have the grilled chicken club sandwich with a side of Mac and cheese."

Astrid nodded. "Great, I'll have the salmon and potatoes."

The waitress returned, took our menus and orders, and deposited our drinks at our sides.

Alone now, our eyes keep meeting and I need to try and not make it as awkward as it already is.

"So, do you usually do chain restaurants when you visit the states? Do you visit the states often?"

"Sometimes I visit when Nick is here and he's with Rachel," Astrid explained. "Not often but they have character to them. Not a lot of them have good options but their fries are a guilty pleasure of mine."

I giggled. "Really? Why didn't you order any?"

Astrid shrugged. "I wanted to try something different. Do you prefer chain restaurants? Or do you like something more lower scale? Higher scale, maybe?"

Her eyes swept to me once she said higher scale, smiling to spread the beauty mark on her face magnificently.

"Oh, I'm much more lower scale," I chuckled. "Still a struggling college student at heart but I'm not cheap as I used to be--I'm not cheap at all but--"

"Darling, I get it," Astrid said, laying a hand over my own. "Although, I hope I can give you a taste of that higher scale."

I wanted to draw back, not voluntarily but a knee jerk reaction; she's saying those things again and it's making me feel amazing. I know she means them but I'm not sure why I feel like she doesn't. Astrid's not like those ignorant people back in Singapore, not like the family who ridiculed you and Rachel. I don't even know if she likes women in that way, perhaps she is and I'm overthinking all of it. Maybe I should have contacted Rachel.

"Y/N? Are you all right?"

I decided to be honest and said, "No, not really. But I don't want it to ruin the night, or our time. We don't have to discuss it anymore, at least not right now."

Astrid started for a moment, thinking before nodding. "Of course, darling."

The waitress soon returned with our food, placing it in front of us before retreating to another table swiftly. My sandwich looked fine, Mac and cheese too but the taste wasn't terrible--not good, mediocre, nothing on Kraft or even what they fed us during grade school.

Astrid must have noticed my displeasure, frowning behind her bite of salmon. "Do you not like it?"

"It's not that good, but I'll manage."

"Do you want to replace it? I can tell the waitress."

I flushed, inching into my seat subconsciously, holding my fork tight. "Astrid, it's all right. I can just eat it."

"Why? I want this to be a great experience with amazing food," Astrid explained. "You deserve it, so why can't you let me do this for you?"

Do I really deserve it? I have been feeling shitty since the vacation in Singapore, since Rachel and Nick's supposed split and since--since I couldn't get over being singled out for something I can't control and shouldn't feel ashamed of being: Black. Black American for that matter.

And here Astrid is being so caring and genuine, willing to spend time and money on me; she does feel more for me more than Rachel or Nick's friend--I'm not entirely sure if it's romantic but there's something more here. I hope I'm not reading this wrong.

"Y/N? Whatever you decide, I'll do it for you," Astrid declared.

"Sure, you can order us some fries. Is it all right if we share?"

Astrid smiled; I could have sworn I saw a hint of red peak through her face.

. . .

After some amazing fries and some superb ice cream (thanks to some convincing from Astrid, flashing another smile and heavy eye contact).

She's even more convincing when we're sharing an Uber, laughing lowly at a joke I told. It wasn't that funny, well at least when Rachel's heard it but she's heard it a thousand times; something minuscule about an old job I had, something dry, something existential. Astrid's laugh though, how close she is and the contact--arms brushing mine due to how smaller the car is or for the fact that she's nudging me--or how she pays attention. I can't look at her without smiling which leads to more of the attention.

"You have a wonderful smile, has anyone ever told you that?" Astrid admitted. We finally got back to my apartment, still talking.

I invited her in without thinking, holding her hand so she doesn't trip over the hitch in the last step going up my floor.

"I think my mom told me before? Lots of times, maybe an ex boyfriend, maybe?"

Astrid scoffed, nudging me gently with her elbow. "I'm serious. Every time I see you, there's something new. Something that amazes me."

I pushed the door open, locking it fast as we both rush inside.

"Are you sure you're serious," I said, leaning against the door. My heart is pumping fast, hyper-like all in my ears. "What's with these things you've been saying?"

Astrid tilted her head. "Y/N."

"You have a child! You divorced someone--you're loaded and gorgeous, and I-I'm--"

"You're a beautiful woman I'm having a great time with," Astrid said, finishing my sentence before the words could come out. "Is my being a divorcee an issue?"

She asked the question with an air of humor and walked away from me, finally giving me a chance to breathe from her intoxication. At my bookcase by the wall that sat ways from the threshold to the kitchen, Astrid's attention swept over it, placing a finger up to the spines of the concealed books.

"No, of course not. I-I that's not an issue. Astrid, I-I-"

Everything's hot, burning, my face especially and I can't speak anymore.

"Darling," Astrid's in my presence again, worried.

"Is it OK if we talk more? If I can ask you more things?"

She nodded and I led her to my tiny sofa across from the bookcase, plopping down on it together; our eyes met yet again.

"Ask me anything, darling," she said. "Anything."

"Well, being divorced doesn't matter," I explained. "I just wanted to ask if you, um."

Sexuality is her business, anyone's personal business that they can choose to tell or keep to themselves. Yet she's here asking me and granting me the chance to get to know her better; I can show her a piece of me that I've only shown to the people closest to me.

"Tonight you were very touchy, encouraging and just overall flirty tonight and I--"

Astrid took my hand, slid so close that our thighs now touched. "And?"

It's obvious. So obvious or I'm just idiotic; Rachel would slap me over the head if she could.

"I-I'm bisexual, my liking includes guys, women, gender nonconforming people and everyone in between and around that umbrella," I explained. My hands couldn't stay still, Astrid saw, tightening her grip and rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "And I-I'm into you Astrid--it seems like you're into me so, do you like women too or not?"

Astrid giggled. "Darling, I've been flirting with you since Nick and Rachel brought you home. I can tell this is a deep issue to you, so yes. I've married a man before, had boyfriends but I fancy women too. Dated a few in university but--that's not important right now. Y/N I'm mad about you too."

I'm giggling now too. It's an organic head-high, almost doubled over with stomach cramping and mouth hurting. Astrid followed in, hands high now: at my arms then shoulders and to my face; I wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from it and noticed how my laughter stopped.

It just happened. I didn't speak, neither did Astrid. Our lips met.

[shadowdianne]

Its all about adulting. I mutter while I send emails and applications and I need to feign I answer to she/her pronouns BC, yknow, things.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ million dollar man ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ it had been over two weeks since you last heard from cho sang-woo. no calls, no texts, not even the smallest acknowledgment of your existence. the silence weighed on you, growing heavier with every passing day. sang-woo, your long-term boyfriend, the man you had imagined spending the rest of your life with, had seemingly vanished without explanation.

˚ ༘♡ he was everything you had dreamed of, handsome, intelligent, educated. in your eyes, he was near perfect. you had moved to south korea a year and a half ago. the two of you met only a month after your arrival in seoul. you were standing at a convenience store counter, struggling to buy an iced coffee before work. the cashier’s words blurred into a language barrier you couldn’t break through, leaving you flustered and embarrassed.

˚ ༘♡ then there he was. cho sang-woo, with his neatly pressed suit and square-rimmed glasses, stepping in to translate with a calm assurance that immediately put you at ease. he went further and insisted on paying for your coffee, brushing off your protests with a polite smile. “you can pay me back with your number,” he had said, his tone light but his warm gaze unwavering. you gave it to him without hesitation, your heart racing as he walked away with a casual, confident stride that lingered in your mind for days.

˚ ༘♡ what followed was akin to a fantasy. your first few dates were sweet and unassuming, dinners at cozy restaurants, walks through bustling markets, late-night phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning. before long, it became more than casual. he wasn’t simply a charming man in a suit, he was someone you trusted, someone you leaned on. yet, as your relationship deepened, so did the flaws.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo treated you well in many ways. he insisted on paying for meals, even when you protested. he offered to help with rent when he noticed you were stressed about expenses. his job at joy investments afforded him a lifestyle of financial stability, one that he willingly extended to you. however, beneath his polished exterior, there was an undeniable distance.

˚ ༘♡ it started small, little things that nagged at you but seemed too insignificant to bring up. his phone was always locked, the screen flashing dark whenever you glanced at it. he would leave suddenly, without warning, offering only vague explanations that never quite satisfied your curiosity. “work,” he would say, brushing off your questions as though they were irrelevant. and no matter how many times you pressed him for the truth, he never admitted anything.

˚ ༘♡ those moments of secrecy chipped away at your trust, leaving an uneasy ache in your chest. you told yourself it was nothing, that you were overthinking. but the fights that erupted when you brought it up told a different story. his calm facade would crack, and he would grow defensive, his words sharp and cutting. “don’t you trust me?” he had asked more than once, the accusation in his tone a slap in the face.

˚ ༘♡ despite the arguments, despite the unanswered questions, you loved him. you loved the way he smoothed a hand down your back when you were upset, the way his voice softened when he called you by name. you loved the rare instances of vulnerability he let slip, the heartfelt glimpses of the man beneath the polished exterior. you loved him enough to forgive, enough to overlook the secrets that cast shadows over your relationship.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone with an empty inbox mocking your worry. two weeks of silence was unbearable. the man you loved, the one who had promised to protect you, had left you with nothing but questions and a ache where his presence used to be.

˚ ༘♡ the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your apartment as though it were a sharp blade. it wasn’t merely unusual, it was unsettling. who would come at this hour? you glanced at the clock on the wall, its glowing numbers reminding you that it was well past midnight. your stomach churned uneasily as you stood up, your fatigue from a long shift at the café clinging to you.

˚ ༘♡ working from sunrise to sunset every day had worn you thin, but you had refused sang-woo’s offers to help you financially. he had already done so much, given so generously, and the thought of taking more was crossing a line you couldn’t bring yourself to breach. it would be an abuse of his kindness.

˚ ༘♡ the hallway was dark as you approached the door, your bare feet silent on the cool floor. you hesitated before unlocking it, your hand hovering over the latch. “hello?” you called out cautiously as you cracked it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

˚ ༘♡ before you could register what was happening, a hard shove sent the door crashing into you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself against the wall. your heart leapt into your throat as the figure who had forced their way inside quickly shut the door behind them.

˚ ༘♡ your confusion turned to disbelief as the light from your apartment fell on their face. it was sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ his chest heaved with each labored breath, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, his dress pants scuffed and slightly torn. his glasses, the ones you always teased him about for making him look too serious, were nowhere to be seen. instead, his face bore the evidence of recent hardships, bruises, faint scars, and scabbed-over cuts that marred his formerly pristine appearance. even his hands, the ones you’d grown so used to seeing holding a pen or a glass of wine, were scratched and battered.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he had aged years in the short time he had been gone.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you stammered, your voice unsteady with equal parts confusion and fear, “what the hell are you doing? it’s the middle of the night, and… why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

˚ ༘♡ he opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. instead, he leaned against the door, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i…” he started, his voice hoarse and raw, but he seemed unable to finish.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, he crossed the room in a single stride and pulled you into a tight embrace. his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that felt almost suffocating, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he clung to you.

˚ ༘♡ you stood unmoving, the shock of his sudden appearance warring with the affection of his touch. part of you was relieved beyond words to have him back, while another part was angry. angry at his disappearance, at the unanswered calls and texts, at the fear and doubt he had left you to wrestle with.

˚ ༘♡ “i missed you,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

˚ ༘♡ his words tugged at your heart, but they weren’t enough to quell the storm of questions brewing inside you. “sang-woo,” you said, your voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “what’s going on? where have you been? what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening, as though the very act of holding onto you could keep him grounded. his breath was unstable, his chest rising and falling against yours in a way that betrayed the turmoil beneath his silence. the room felt oppressively quiet.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, desperate for clarity. the sound seemed to jolt him, his body stiffening before he reluctantly pulled back.

˚ ༘♡ his hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket, the movement clumsy and hurried. when he withdrew, he thrust a thick stack of cash into your arms, one hundred million won, neatly bound and unnervingly out of place in your modest apartment. the weight of the money startled you, as you stared at the crisp bills in disbelief.

˚ ༘♡ “listen to me,” he said, his voice shaking but steadfast. “after this, after i take care of everything, i’ll buy us a beautiful home. somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. hold onto this for now.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the sudden shift, the money heavy in your grasp. “sang-woo,” you said, your tone rising with vexation and confusion, “where did you get this money?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, his eyes avoiding yours, and that only fueled your frustration. “tell me!” you demanded. “where have you been? do you have any idea what I’ve been through? i thought you left me for another woman or fled the country!”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched, his expression fading as guilt flashed across his face, but he said nothing.

˚ ༘♡ you pressed further, your voice strained with a mix of hurt and fury. “i talked to your mother. she said you haven’t called her in ages! i went to your work. they haven’t seen you in weeks! your friends? same thing. no one knows where you’ve been!” your hands tightened around the cash, your knuckles white as your chest heaved with the distress of your tone. “how could you do this to me? how could you leave without a word, without an explanation?”

˚ ༘♡ his silence hurt more than any words could have. he looked at you, his expression a painful mix of regret and something darker, something you couldn’t place. his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to sting your eyes. “please. i need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise, sweetheart,” sang-woo murmured, his voice unsteady, as if it pained him to speak. his hand, calloused and trembling, reached out to rest gently on your cheek, his touch delicate. your heart ached as you met his gaze, those dark, exhausted eyes glistening with unshed tears. it was a look so raw, so unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ “you have to trust me,” he said, his tone soft but pleading. “you have to listen to me. i’ve already given you what you need to cover your expenses.” his hand lingered against your cheek for a monthly moment before falling away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “i have urgent legal and business matters to deal with, but once they’re resolved… we’ll have the life we’ve dreamed of. everything we’ve talked about.”

˚ ༘♡ his lips brushed against your forehead, the kiss light but filled with a quiet desperation that made your chest tighten. “nothing could ever keep me from you,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “promise me you’ll do as i ask.”

˚ ༘♡ everything about this felt wrong, the way he avoided your questions, the haunting exhaustion in his voice, the bruises that lined his hands and face. you wanted answers. you wanted to demand he tell you everything right then and there, but the way he looked at you, so broken, so unlike the composed sang-woo you knew, kept you from saying anymore.

˚ ༘♡ uncertainty clouded your mind, nonetheless you nodded, your voice hardly above a whisper. “i promise.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders sagged slightly at your answer, the tension in his body loosening, though not entirely disappearing. “good,” he said softly, almost to himself. he was still nervous, his eyes darting toward the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.

˚ ༘♡ “i have to go,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “but i’ll come back. i swear, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ “okay,” you replied, unsure but unwilling to push him further.

˚ ༘♡ he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tender kiss that left you yearning for answers. then, without another word, he turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, the silence of his absence pressing down on you, dread engulfed your thoughts. your mind churned with questions, with doubts, but one thing was certain, you were relieved, no matter how strange the circumstances of his return, to have seen sang-woo again. the agonizing ache in your chest told you that his departure had left you with far more questions than answers.

a/n: my first sang-woo fanfiction!! is it controversial for me to say i love his character and he’s my favorite one in squid game? please let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[cyberesc]

BELLYACHE. (PART 1)

pairing: Prohero!kiribaku × Prohero!Reader

synopsis: You were in love with your best friends but were certain they didn't feel the same as they feel for each other, so you did what anyone would do, in an attempt to save yourself from heartbreak, you disappeared from Japan back to your home country after graduation, leaving everyone behind.

+*. • contains angst, slight jealousy (?), reader is a foreign exchange student, krbk and reader are bestfriends, misunderstandings, krbk aren't in an established relationship, required unrequited love, reader runs from their problems, eventual happy ending (poly)

note: this was sitting in my drafts for so long, this series will probably have a max of 3 parts depending on how much angst I wanna cut or include🤭

part 2 | part 3

The halls of U.A. felt more like home than ever, and yet, it was bittersweet. You walked alongside Bakugo and Kirishima, their banter filling the air. Bakugo's gruff voice mixed with Kirishima's hearty laughter—sounds that had become a constant in your life over the past three years. But today, you felt a little distant, not quite part of the trio, more like a shadow trailing behind them.

You glanced at them for a moment, catching the playful glint in Bakugo's eye as he shoved Kirishima's shoulder at a lame joke, and Kirishima's sharp smile that only widened in response. It was a scene you'd grown to love—too much, in fact. A sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

I never stood a chance.

That thought had been a whisper in the back of your mind for months, but now, with graduation approaching, it was louder than ever. You saw the way they looked at each other—the subtle glances, the easy smiles, the unspoken understanding that passed between them. It was clear they had something special, a bond that went beyond friendship. And you? You were just a person who couldn't hold a candle to either of them, never quite on the same level.

Bakugo and Kirishima had always had a connection that you could never quite breach, and you've finally accepted that you never would. They understood each other in a way that left you feeling like an outsider, even though you were their bestfriend. But that was all you were, wasn't it?

Bakugo and Kirishima couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in your demeanor. They didn't speak of it, but the thought was there, nagging at the back of their minds like an itch they couldn't scratch. You were a crucial part of their world, a balance to their intense, chaotic energy, and the thought of losing that balance even just a little bothered them more than they'd care to admit. There were feelings that neither of them dared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

Back when you transferred during the first year of U.A, the odds were stacked against you. As a foreign student coming into U.A, you knew you'd have to work harder than anyone else to prove that you belonged there. The language barrier, the cultural differences and the high standards of a prestigious school-all weighed heavily on your shoulders. But you were determined.

From the moment you set foot on the campus, you heard the whispers and curious glances of the other students, but they didn't faze you. Instead, they fueled you. You had to be better, faster, stronger—there was no room for doubt.

Your first encounter with Bakugo happened during combat training as you've been randomly paired up together by Aizawa. You heard what people said about him—about his explosive temper. But you didn't back down, much like you, he fought with the drive to be the best of the best.

The battle was fierce, both of you pushing each other to your limits. Before any of you could push yourselves too far, you were separated with Aizawa's capture scarf. After assessing your fight, it was deemed a stalemate, both of you breathless and covered in sweat. Disappointed with your loss, you felt something shift after your fight. While he didn't want to acknowledge it, Bakugo saw you as someone who could match his fire. From then on, there was a mutual respect between you, even if neither of you said it out loud.

Your encounter with Kirishima went much differently. It was during a late-night study session in the library, weeks after your transfer. You had been struggling with a particularly difficult concept, frustration and anxiety bubbling as time seemed to run closer and closer toward the third exam. Kirishima noticed and without a second thought, pulled up a chair beside you, offering his help with an easy smile. He was to your surprise, pretty patient, explaining things in a way that made everything click. The day after getting back your score on the exam, you gave him snacks from your home country as a thank you gift. That night, not only did you learn about the subject matter—you learned that Kirishima had a heart as solid as the walls he could create with his Quirk. From then on, he made it his mission to include you in everything, making sure you never felt out of place.

From then on, the three of you formed a bond that felt unbreakable.They both came to care for you as one of their best friends, and over time, you started to realize that they were more than just people in your pursuit to prove yourself—they were the people you trusted most.

They understood your struggles and admired the strength it took for you to come this far. Through countless training, late-night study sessions, and quiet moments together, they became more than just classmates-they became your best friends. And you, in turn, became theirs.

Your feelings for Bakugo and Kirishima didn't happen all at once. It was a slow, gradual process. At first, you admired them for their strengths but over time, something shifted. The admiration you felt for them started to evolve into something deeper, something that went beyond friendship.

It was in the small moments that your feelings began to grow. Each moment became more meaningful, and you found yourself looking forward to them, craving their presence in a way that made your heart race.

But it wasn't until an overwhelming sense of doubt started to gnaw at the back of your mind. They were your best friends, you knew how much they value their friendship, not just with you but with each other. The bond you all had was precious and the thought of disrupting your dynamic terrified you. The last thing you wanted was to be the reason for any tension or division.

You had seen firsthand how strong their connection was with each other, how they complement one another in ways that seemed effortless. They had a bond that you feared you could never fully understand or be a part of. So, you buried your feelings, convincing yourself that it was for the best.

It was better to remain their friend than to risk everything for something you knew was impossible.

Graduation day came and went in a blur. While saying your goodbyes to your classmates, you were stopped by Bakugo and Kirishima who had asked you what agency you were joining, both of them waiting for your answer in anticipation, wondering if you'd all fight alongside each other. Your chest tightened painfully as you dodged the question.

You were transferring back to your home country.

The decision was made before your enrollment at U.A. As they looked at you, faces filled with pride after surviving not only high school, but one of the top hero schools in the country (not to mention fighting a literal war before the end of their freshman year). You couldn't bear to tell them the truth-not when they looked at you with warm smiles that made you wish things could be different.

Instead, you left quietly. You'd already packed your things, already arranged your transfer. You didn't even say goodbye in person, just left a message that you were heading back home. It was a wimp's way out, you knew that. You'd always prided yourself on facing challenges head-on, but the thought of telling them you were leaving, telling them you might never see them again—that was a challenge you couldn't handle.

You stared at the message on your phone, fingers trembling as they hovered over the 'send' button. Once you pressed it, that would be it, no turning back.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to be brave and hit 'send': The message was short, deliberately vague, because you couldn't write what you really felt.

I'm heading back home. I'll miss you guys. Thank you for everything. - Y/N

For a moment, you stared at the screen, half-hoping they would reply instantly, asking for more details, demanding an explanation. But the minutes ticked by with no response. Maybe they were busy celebrating, caught up in the excitement of graduation. Or maybe they just didn't care.

You sighed, sliding your phone into your pocket. It was better this way. Easier for them, easier for you.

No messy goodbyes, no tears. Just a clean break.

As you walked away from the school grounds for the last time, from the second place you've called home, you couldn't help but glance back over your shoulder. The massive gates of U.A. loomed behind you, a symbol of everything you were leaving behind.

But you had to keep moving forward. And as painful as it was, you knew you were making the right choice. Still, as the plane took off, lifting you away from the life you'd built, you allowed yourself one final, quiet thought:

I'II always love you both.

Life hit you fast, in the weeks that passed after leaving Japan, you kept busy; getting hired as a rookie at your city's agency, diving into missions, and patrolling the familiar streets from your childhood.

It kept your mind occupied, the stray feelings of homesickness that quietly built up as you left your home to follow your dreams lifted. You were back to the city and its people you grew up with, back to your old roots, to your first home, whom you swore to protect.

But it didn't stop you from missing them. The longing gnawed at you in quiet moments, the ache of being apart from the people who meant the most to you.

Your silence didn't go unnoticed, your old circle of friends, including Kirishima and Bakugo reached out often—texts, calls, voice messages. You knew they were angry that you left, especially without a proper goodbye, but leaving without anyone holding you back was the best choice you could've made.

Ironically the guilt of abandoning your friends slowly pushed you from any sort of contact. You replied at first, brief responses. But slowly, you began to pull back, letting the messages go unread, letting the calls ring out. It hurt too much to hear their voices, to pretend everything was fine when it wasn't.

It wasn't long before you were ghosting them completely, blaming it under the false pretense of a busy work schedule.

Months passed. The guilt of avoiding them weighed heavily on you, but it felt necessary to protect your heart. You threw yourself into your work. You were a rookie after all, and you were determined to make a name for yourself, no matter how slowly you climbed up the ranks, hoping that someday, the ache would lessen.

One day, you received an email for a mission briefing in Tokyo—a high-profile case, something about an undercover mission that required cooperation between multiple agencies. They asked for you and your senior to attend. You weren't expecting anything as you took a plane back to Japan, the city was so large, you didn't think of the possibility of running into your old friends.

Once you arrived, you checked in with your assistant, receiving a tablet with the mission files and your hero badge for easier introduction among the agencies.

As you walked into the conference room, your eyes wandered around the room, taking note of who attended. Your heart stopped the moment your eyes landed on familiar ash-blonde hair.

Bakugo's eyes locked onto you the second you stepped into the room, a mixture of surprise and something unreadable in his gaze. You averted your eyes quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Of all the people you could have run into, of course it had to be them.

Kirishima arrived a few minutes later, Tamaki and Mirio chatting alongside him. When Kirishima caught your gaze, his face lit up with a grin, waving in your direction. You managed a strained smile, nodding in acknowledgment, but didn't trust yourself to speak.

Bakugo was staring at you intently, his gaze never wavering. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, and it made your skin prickle.

The beeping of a timer indicating the start of the meeting silenced the room. Your hero partner and assistant took the vacant spots on either side of you and you couldn't help but imagine if you didn't leave, maybe you would have been assigned this mission together.

The meeting felt like it dragged on forever. You avoided looking in the direction of either of them, keeping your focus on the mission briefing. When a break was finally called, you stepped out for air, heading for the rooftop to clear your head.

The city stretched out before you as you leaned against the ledge, the familiar sights and sounds of traffic below grounding you. You closed your eyes, breathing in the crisp air, trying to steady your racing heart.

"You've been avoiding us."

Bakugo's voice cut through the quiet, and you stiffened, your eyes snapping open. You hadn't even heard him approach.

"I've been busy." you replied after a moment, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

"That's bullshit, and you know it."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, but didn't turn to face him. *What do you want me to say, Bakugo?"

"The truth would be nice," he said, stepping closer until he was beside you, his eyes locked on your face.

You bit your lip, refusing to meet his gaze. You knew he could see right through you, and you hated it. You hated how vulnerable he made you feel, how just a look from him could unravel all the defenses you'd so carefully built.

"There's nothing to say." you muttered, trying to sidestep the conversation, hoping he would drop it.

"Bullshit." Bakugo repeated, his voice sharp but tinged with worry. He wasn't one to back down easily, and you knew that if you stayed there any longer, he'd pry the truth out of you. "You've been avoiding us for months. You don't just drop out of our lives without a damn good reason."

You could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves, but you kept your back to him, staring out at the city below. "I told you. I've been busy. New city, new job—“

"Cut the crap." Bakugo interrupted, his voice low. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming.

"You've never run from anything. So what the hell is really going on?"

The words you'd been holding back for so long clawed at your throat, but you couldn't let them out.

You couldn't face the possibility that admitting your feelings would ruin everything—whatever was left, anyway.

You thought about the consequences of spilling your feelings. If you said what you really felt right now, what's the guarantee that it wouldn't affect the mission? If your feelings aren't reciprocated, and Bakugo tells Kirishima about your conversation, where would that put you? You couldn't afford to put yourself in that position, risking your focus and letting your team down. They had each other, and you had... well, you had yourself.

You shook your head at your thoughts, forcing a neutral tone. "It doesn't matter. Let's just get back to the meeting."

Before Bakugo could protest, you walked away, your hurried steps putting distance between you and the conversation you weren't ready to have. You knew Bakugo wasn't convinced, but you hoped he'd at least drop it for now. If he kept pressing, you didn't know if you'd be able to hold it together.

The meeting wrapped up eventually, and you made sure to slip out before either Bakugo or Kirishima could catch up with you. Knowing Bakugo, he most likely already told Kirishima about your conversation on the rooftop and you couldn't handle another confrontation, not after the last had left you feeling so raw. You needed time to think, time to steel yourself for the upcoming mission.

You stayed at one of your agency's temporary apartments, the busy life of Tokyo echoing in the night. You tried to distract yourself with preparations, going over the mission details again and again. But your thoughts kept drifting back to Bakugo, to the look in his eyes when he'd confronted you, to the way Kirishima had smiled at you in the conference room like nothing had changed.

A few days before the mission, you headed to the support department to pick up your upgraded stealth suit. The techs had been working on integrating some new enhancements to better suit your Quirk, and you were eager to see how it had turned out. You slipped into the fitting room and pulled on the suit, testing the fit and flexibility. It was perfect, as expected, and you felt a small sense of satisfaction at the way it hugged your form.

As you stepped out of the fitting room, you nearly collided with someone standing just outside. You looked up to find Sero grinning down at you, his usual easygoing smile stretching wide across his face.

"Yo, Y/N! Long time no see," he greeted, giving you a playful nudge.

You couldn't help but smile back. "Hey, Hanta. What are you doing here?"

"Just picking up some adjustments on my gear. Looks like you got some upgrades too," he said, eyeing your new suit with approval.

"Yeah, just some minor tweaks." you replied, flexing your hands and feeling the fabric move with you.

Sero tilted his head, studying you for a moment. "You've been pretty quiet lately. Haven't seen you in the group chat for a while."

You tensed, the familiar guilt creeping in. "Uh, just been busy."

"Uh-huh," Sero said, not buying your excuse. He didn't push, though, just smiled and clapped a hand on your shoulder. *How about we catch up over some drinks? It's been ages since we hung out?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The bar was comfortably noisy, filled with the hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. You and Sero found a booth in the corner, beers in hand, and settled in to catch up. It felt good to relax a bit, to be in the company of someone who wasn't pushing you for answers you didn't want to give.

"So." Sero began after a sip of his beer, "you gonna tell me why you've been MIA? Or do I have to guess?"

You sighed, knowing he wouldn't let it go. "It's complicated, Hanta."

"Complicated how?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. "Does it have anything to do with a certain explosive blonde and a red-haired tank?"

You winced, "What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch." he replied with a shrug. "Plus, Kirishima's been worried sick about you, and Bakugo's been, well...Bakugo, but more pissed than usual."

You frowned, your gaze dropping to the table. "I didn't mean to worry them. I just...I didn't know how to handle it."

"Handle what?" Sero pressed gently.

You took a deep breath, the words catching in your throat before you finally let them out. "I...I kinda have feelings for both of them. And I thought...I thought it would be easier to just distance myself. To let them be together without me getting in the way." Sero's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't look surprised.

"So, you just decided to ghost them? Leave the country without talking to them first?"

"It was stupid, I know," you admitted, frustration with yourself seeping into your voice. "But I didn't think they'd understand…I just didn't want to mess up our friendship."

Sero was quiet for a moment, then he sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Y/N, you're way too hard on yourself, you know that? They care about you a lot. And I don't think you're giving them enough credit."

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgment, but found none. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe you should stop running and start talking to them." Sero said simply. "You never know what might happen if you're honest about how you feel. And sure, Kirishima and Bakugo have been pretty close, but lately, there's been talk... you know, around the agency."

"Talk?" you asked, curiosity piqued.

"Nothing bad, just...people have noticed that those two seem kinda distracted. And it's not just because of each other, if you catch my drift." Sero said with a knowing look.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat. Could it be possible that...?

"No fucking way" you muttered, shaking your head. "They look so happy together. They don't need me complicating things."

"Y/N." Sero said, his voice firm, "You don't complicate anything. You're part of their lives—whether you like it or not. And maybe, you're part of something bigger than you realize."

You fell silent, Sero's words echoing in your mind as you silently sipped your beer. Could he be right? Was there more to their relationship than you'd assumed? And if so, where did that leave you?

The conversation drifted after that, Sero taking your mind off things by sharing stories about the others, filling you in on the latest gossip from your old circle of friends. By the time you parted ways, your heart felt a little lighter, the dread that had been hanging over you for weeks starting to lift.

© property of cyberesc 2024. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works and do not repost/edit/translate/copy onto any other sites.

[misctf]

Christmas Curse

Hey everyone! Happy Holidays. If you have any holiday-themed asks, I will try to prioritize those. Hope you enjoy this story!

“Yeah, yeah Stacy, I know.” Matt grumbles, “You’ll be here soon. Got it.” He rolls his eyes, “ Jesus Stacy, I got the kids their presents. I know how to be a dad.” He hangs up, “Fuckin’ bitch.” He mumbles.

Matt yawns and starts preparing his morning coffee. He was going to need it. While he didn’t really mind having his kids over, he did hate having to see his ex-wife. Always nagging him, even after they signed the papers. It was that nagging that drove him to cheat on her with one of his clients at the gym. At least that’s how he justified it. A small frown formed on his lips as he sips his coffee.

“First Christmas since the divorce.” He mumbles, looking around his empty apartment, “Damn.” A part of him starts to feel guilty- his kids deserved better. No decorations, no tree, not even a single light, “Fuck. I won’t hear the end of this.” His thoughts return to his ex-wife.

He quickly walks to his closet where he had a few things that he got from the house after the divorce. He sighs as he realizes most of the decorations he took were broken- likely due to how unceremoniously he treated them during the move.

“Oh god.” He grimaces as he pulls out their Elf on the Shelf, “Terrifying little fucker.” He chuckles, “Yeah, you got me good, Stacy.”

It was the one decoration Stacy insisted he take in the divorce. Likely because of how much it creeped him out. Just another petty move on her part, he figured. Yet part of him can’t help but smile. His kids loved the thing.

“I guess this’ll do.” He quickly walks back to the kitchen and places it lamely on a chair.

He walks over to grab his coffee and upon turning around, he raises an eyebrow. The damn thing was on the ground. Matt walks over and quickly places it back on the chair, making sure there was no way it could fall.

“Creepy fucker.” He mumbles, turning around again.

Thump

“Really?” Matt turns back to find it on the ground again, “Seriously, what the hell?” He picks it up and looks at it closely, “Stay put.” He realizes he sounds insane- talking to an inanimate object.

“Make me.” Matt’s eyes widen as he realizes the decoration just talked to him. Its eyes blinking. Its giggles echoing in his ears.

“Gah what the fuck!?”

Matt cries out as it bites down firmly on his thumb and he throws it across the room. He stares at the small teeth marks on his thumb and watches as the little demon scurries away, its giggling filling his apartment. Matt’s breath became heavier as he stumbled to the kitchen sink and started cleaning out his cut. His thoughts were racing and he was feeling dizzy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He’s mumbling to himself, and he shakily grabs his cup of coffee.

But when the bitter liquid touches his tongue he gags and drops the mug. Its disgusting. Bitter, sour, and he spits out as much as he can. He quickly rushes to his fridge, looking for anything that might get that disgusting taste out of his mouth. But none of his protein shakes look appealing, nor does almond milk or his protein smoothies. Matt doesn’t know what compels him, but he grabs the chocolate milk he got his kids last time they visited. Without much thought, he begins to guzzle it, downing the carton in a matter of seconds.

“So good...” He giggles, wiping his mouth.

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did. He just ruined his macros for the day without even thinking about it. At least the taste from the coffee was gone. Matt shakes his head- realizing he has bigger things to worry about. He needed to find that elf. As his thoughts return to his predicament, he can hear a giggle coming from the bedroom.

“Fudger...” Matt mumbles, “Fudger? No I meant fudger! What the fudge?” He shakes his head, trying to curse, “Sugar plums... I need to find that thINg.”

Frustrated at his inability to curse, and the strange cracking of his voice, Matt rushes to his room. Desperate to find the monster and give it back to Stacy. Of course she gave him a cursed doll. And as he storms down the hallway, he absentmindedly scratches at his beard. The hairs falling away, leaving his cheeks smooth and hairless. Unbeknownst to him, they take on a rosier complexion, filling out slightly and becoming rounder.

“ThERe you ARe.” Matt’s voice cracks as he notices the decoration sitting atop his tall dresser, “Come here.”

Matt approaches his dresser and reaches to grab it but finds his arms no longer reach the top of it. The elf grins and teases Matt, reaching out to Matt, who is unable to grab it. Just missing ever so slightly. The personal trainer is growing frustrated, now standing on his tippee toes as he desperately swats at the elf.

“Why can’t I reach it?” Matt thinks. At 6’3” he never had an issue reaching the top of the dresser.

And as he lifts his arms above his hand, he catches a whiff from his exposed pits. But it’s not his musk that invades his nostrils. No, it’s sweet. Like gingerbread and holly. He lowers his arms, not even registering that his pit hair has vanished.

“What’s happening to me?” He whispers, his voice softer. The masculine edge diminished. He looks up at the elf, who is smiling at him, “What did you do to me?”

Matt turns and looks over at his full body mirror. A high-pitched gasp leaves his mouth as he catches a glimpse of himself. He’s short... at least 5’4”. And his muscles look softer. He saunters over to the mirror, feeling his smooth face, rubbing a hand through his dissipating chest hairs. His tokens of masculinity vanishing at an alarming rate. His face cute- elfish even. Just like... just like...

“No, no, no!” Matt’s voice has settled on its higher tenor, “Stop this!” He hisses, hating how pouty his voice sounds, “Please! I...” He turns to confront the elf.

But it’s no longer on the dresser. Matt’s heart is pounding in his chest as he swings back to watch the changes continue. He grunts as his meaty pecs let out a hissing sound and deflate before his eyes. Days of chest flies and bench pressing seem to reverse themselves as his chest becomes flat, his two nipples becoming perkier and sensitive to the cool air in his apartment. He can’t help but massage his flat chest with his dainty and smooth hands. Part of him enjoying how cute he looks, another part utterly horrified at the loss of his gains.  

“Wait, please don’t... not my arms!”

In a moment of lucid thought, he realizes that his impressive tris and bis are releasing the same hissing sounds. Rapidly becoming stick-like and nonthreatening. Matt feels tears well up in his eyes. He loved to flex- to show off to his clients. He loved holding women in his muscular arms. How they would run their hands along them and his abs... His abs! He watches as they too smooth over and vanish, giving him a lean tummy. His treasure trail, another symbol of his masculinity has similarly vanished. The hairs falling to the ground, leaving Matt smooth.

“Oh god...” Matt feels for his Adam’s apple and frowns, “Even my voice...” He stumbles backwards and slides down the wall, “Oh!” He moans as his inflated ass cushions him, “Wh-what...?” He moans as he feels his larger ass. His hands filling with the flesh of his larger, jiggling mounds, “Ohhhhh...”

He gives them a squeeze, part of him embarrassed at how sensitive they are. At how each squeeze causes his dick to harden with pleasure. And as he moans again, he can’t help but realize that the bulge in his pants becomes less prominent. While part of him screams to stop, the pleasure he’s getting from just squeezing his ass overpowers any remaining willpower he might have. When he finally does pull his hands away from his ass and looks down his pants, his heart sinks. His dick has settled on 2 inches hard. Far from the thick meat women would beg for. And while part of him wanted to cry, to beg to return to his masculine form, another part urged him to give his ass another squeeze. And he did. Again and again and again...

It was a few hours later when he heard a knock at his door. Matt was lying face down, ass in the air, his dainty hands massaging his thicc ass. He slowly pushes himself up and giggles. His rosy cheeks rounding out more as a smile forms on his cute face. He quickly walks over to the closet where he rummages through tank-tops and hoodies.

“So ugly and boring...” Matt thinks as he hums a Christmas tune to himself.

And then he finds it. He never really remembered buying it, but the red footie pajamas, white fluffy mittens, and Santa hat are absolutely perfect. He quickly puts them on and walks over to the mirror.

“Ohhh I look so good!” He giggles, lifting his leg and doing a twirl.

Part of him registers that he looks exactly like the elf. A near perfect, human replica. And while he feels deep down this is wrong, that he isn’t some elf-like, twink with a big ass, he can’t imagine being anything else.

“No please! Let me out!” Matt’s giggling stops as he listens closely to the voice in his head. And when he stares in the mirror, he sees who he used to be. A desperate fear in the man’s eyes, “Please! I’m not...”

“Shhhhh!” Giggling fills the air, “We have a lot to do!”

Matt leaves the mirror, the sound of sobbing echoing deep within his brain. But Matt can’t be bothered right now. He quickly swings open the door and grins when he sees Stacy.

“Stacy!” He sings, “Merry Christmas Eve!”

Stacy grins, “Seems like you found my gift.” She says, “I just came by to pick up the presents for the kids. I think they should stay with me this Christmas.”

Matt frowns, “Alright... It’s not like I’m ready for Christmas anyway.” He pouts, crossing his arms.

Matt watches as Stacy leaves with the few presents he got for his kids. Internally, Matt is begging to be freed. This isn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t... His thoughts slow as he feels hands grip his massive ass. The two Matts moaning in unison. Their minds melding in the midst of their shared pleasure. And internally, Matt realizes it’s too late. As the new Matt opens up Grindr to find a hairy daddy to fuck his brains out, Matt realizes by the time Christmas morning comes around, he and this new Matt will be one.

As he dreads his future, he can hear a giggle coming from down the hall. One last mocking laugh from the elf on the shelf.

[sixosix]

(OFFICIALLY) SWEPT OFF YOUR FEET

i. summary in which everyone knew you were in a relationship, except for you.

ii. warnings wc 1.5k, profanity, reader will be angry: couple fight scene but not really, alhaitham is kinda dumb here, but he loves you and you love him and that's all that matters, ending is kinda lame... ft. tighnari and cyno

iii. written for my big sibling @earthtooz hope u like this one earf ily

“Hey, Alhaitham?”

He hums noncommittally.

You nestle further in his arm that’s draped lazily over your shoulder, his other hand and his attention occupied by a book. He doesn’t respond again, but he does glance at you for a moment while you shift, adjusting his arm more comfortably.

“Tighnari sent me a letter the other day.”

“Hm.”

“And it was real sweet, you know. He sent over fruits and told me you have your share in my package. He didn’t want to send them to you because he said the fruits would have expired by the time you’d read the letter.” Alhaitham doesn’t deny it. “But I read something extremely strange in the letter that had me dropping the fruits out of pure shock.”

Alhaitham still doesn’t reply. But you know him well enough to know that he’s no longer reading—just keeping appearances.

“Did you read it?”

“...No.”

Obviously. “Ah, well. Let me quote it, as I feel the need to share it with you as well.” You sit up straight and push Alhaitham’s book away from his line of view. “He said, ‘For the insufferable, lovely couple. It’s been a while since you two have visited. How are you and Alhaitham doing? Write back soon.’ And then he taped a flower.”

Alhaitham’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. “You look miffed.”

You scowl. “Alhaitham, of course I’m miffed! Since when were we a lovely couple? And why are you not surprised? Were you the one to prank them?”

“No one’s trying to fool anyone,” he says smoothly, picking up his book once again. As if he just hasn’t caused your crisis. “Tighnari is simply being a good friend and looking for something to nag us about.”

“Alhaitham, since when were we a couple?” you demanded again, shaking his arm. “Did I miss something? Did I wake up one day and forget about being in a relationship with you?”

“Haven’t we always been in one?”

“No, we have not?”

Alhaitham casts you a glance. “You sound unsure.”

“Because you seem so sure of yourself for no reason,” you fume, itching with the urge to hurl the book at his face. “I didn’t even know you were even into me like that!”

“I let you kiss me on the cheek every night before you leave my house. Sometimes, you don’t even leave my house, so we sleep on the same bed.” As if that explains anything. And did he fling out these reasons to Tighnari, too?

“Well, I do it because I’ve been doing it since we were, like, six. And you never told me to stop. Plus, it’s just a cheek kiss—that’s way different from an actual kiss actual couples do,” you say, getting increasingly infuriated with each word that’s coming out your mouth. Why do you have to explain how relationships work to Alhaitham? Surely he’s read a guide about love in the millions of books he’s touched?

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t start kissing me the way couples do, then.”

Oh, this bitch. “So you knew that I liked you?” Your voice wavers, and you feel a little pathetic. “And that’s what prompted you to start spreading lies to everyone? Is this some joke to you?”

Immediately, his expression is swept off of amusement. “Y/N,” he says as you feel your lips tremble. “Y/N, that’s not—”

“Shut up,” you say. “How long has this been going on? Since when have I been outside of the biggest inside joke, huh?”

“It’s not like that. I thought—”

“Oh, you thought, didn’t you? Yet you didn’t think I don’t want my feelings to be played like—like—” You can’t even bring yourself to say this. You know that Alhaitham can be mean when he wants to be, but making a joke out of the feelings you’ve desperately hidden for years?

“I need to leave.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to announce it. Was it because you rarely even leave his place? Each step feels wrong. You don’t want to be mad at Alhaitham to this extent but you’re hurt.

You ignore Alhaitham’s hurried, “Where are you going?” because you don’t have an answer to that. Wherever you go, you always end up in Alhaitham’s arms.

You forcefully push the door open and march off, head spinning, humiliated. You hear Alhaitham’s steps fall into place after yours. It’s pissing you off even more that Alhaitham doesn’t even look the slightest bit frazzled, as if you impulsively sprinting off is just a walk in the block for him.

Then you spot Cyno in the middle of a street. He catches your wrist before you can avoid him.

He blinks, mildly surprised to see it’s just you and not some food stall thief. “Y/N.” Cyno tilts his head slightly to acknowledge the man a few feet away from you. “Alhaitham. Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing!” You don’t question why or how Cyno is here, shoving him aside—which proved to be a little difficult given how he’s pretty strong for such a tiny man.

“You’re crying,” Cyno points out as you try to push him away as if you aren’t aware of how your face feels uncomfortably hot and how tears are sliding off your cheeks.

“It’s a marital dispute,” Alhaitham says, directly behind you.

His voice makes you scowl. So infuriatingly sexy, and you’re mad at it. “We’re not married!”

Cyno nods, serious. “Yes, I only heard about the engagement.” At your stunned silence and Alhaitham’s reluctant stillness, Cyno clears his throat and steps aside. “I suppose I’ll leave you two to it. I don’t know how relationships work.”

You groan as Cyno walks off, “Great, so even Cyno thinks we’re a couple. Who’s next, Lesser Lord Kusanali?”

Alhaitham looks away. “Well—”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Your wrist seems keen on being dragged around by men today, it seems. Alhaitham firmly tugs at your arm, pulling you close to his chest, his gaze intensely searching yours. But all he would be able to see is your scowl. And all you can see is his handsome face.

“Y/N,” Alhaitham says, your name in his voice a sweet murmur. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t think you would react that way.”

“What, you think I’d just roll with it?” you spit with dripping bitterness.

“Yes.” You're taken aback as you gaze at him and find his expression to be entirely genuine and open. “We fell into a friendship so easily. I fell in love with you the same way: naturally. I thought…” And then his usually blank face twists into something unpleasant. “Forgive me.”

“Alhaitham, you idiot. You bastard. Do you have any idea how relationships work?”

“No. All I know is how to be with you.” He wipes a tear off your cheek. “But it appears I’m not even doing that right.”

“Fuck you.” You bat his hand away. His face falls. “You don’t get to act all sweet to me like that. I spent years thinking you would never see me that way, and you get to decide one morning that we’re in a relationship, just like that?”

“You’ve liked me for years?” Alhaitham’s eyes are a bit wide, totally missing the point.

“Alhaitham.”

“I ask you out every dinner. And you say yes each time.”

“I didn’t think you meant it like that!”

“I did mean it like that,” Alhaitham says, and again with that ‘so sure of myself’ personality. You hate it. You love it. “And I meant everything I’ve ever said to you like that. I didn’t tell anyone anything; they just assumed on their own, and only then did I realize how it did seem that way. It was my selfishness that didn’t try to deny their assumptions.”

Alhaitham’s usually so difficult to speak to, especially when it comes to expressing his true emotions. You often find yourself filling the silence, and he seems content with it. However, he appears desperate at this moment, as though you’re planning on leaving if he doesn’t give you a reason to stay.

You are too weak. “So you like me.”

“I do.”

“…And you want to… be in a relationship with me.” Alhaitham nods. You're beginning to feel flustered as the realization sets in that the man you've always dreamt of is holding you intimately in the middle of nowhere, and also confessing that he feels the same way. “Ask me out properly, then.”

Alhaitham looks at you incredulously. Did he think it was over?

“Do it, Alhaitham. Woo me. Win me over. Sweep me off my feet.”

“...Y/N,” he hesitates, his face tinted pink, vaguely embarrassed. “Go out with me. In that way.”

It sounds demanding and clumsy, but it’s perfectly Alhaitham, so your heart beats out of your chest and your face splits into a grin all the same.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you’re going to do it right, you hear me? You won’t just let me do anything. And you will start—officially—tomorrow by telling everyone that we are not engaged nor married.”

Alhaitham dips his head down, your chin trapped by his fingers. “We will be, eventually, though. And I can just start now. Officially.”

Your confusion doesn’t last for even a second when his lips meet yours in a kiss. You’ve been wooed. Won over. Swept off your feet.

earth i hope u know it took me months to find a good plot for your man this was a feat in itself. also i copy pasted your tags love u.

also if u caught the title while it was called swept over your feet shut up…. Please. this didnt have a title originally 🙁

[astraystayyh]

In my dreams

Seungmin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. my interpretation of in my dreams by tearliner, love X stereo.

Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.

skz song series

cw: reader has anxiety and deals with lots of self-doubt and insecurities.

a.n: the end of our skz song series!! and a pretty personal final fic, this one is based on my own experience with anxiety, so it might differ for everyone :) thank you for reading as always <3

You watch, a soft smile on your face as two little girls play with one another in the playground. It reminds you of simpler times, when you could just walk up to another human and become friends with them instantly.

But reality is much more challenging, especially for someone like you, constantly plagued by their anxious thoughts.

Anxiety didn't tiptoe into your life, one drop at a time so you'd get accustomed to its overwhelming presence. Instead, you woke up one day and it barged into you, through cracks and dents you didn't even know existed in your being, and then it made itself a permanent home within the confines of your heart.

You never truly learned how to live with this parasite feeding off your soul, draining you completely until you became a mere shell of who you once were. You never fully adjusted to the invisible hands choking you from within, to the voice nagging you in the back of your mind, telling you that something horrible was bound to happen.

Because nothing ever went wrong, day after day, nothing bad happened. And yet, the feeling of dread persisted and lingered until you started to believe that the problem was you.

And once you opened the door to self-doubt, you could never fully close it again.

You're too overwhelmed, too nervous, too much of everything bad. Your conversations are scrutinized, down to every syllable you uttered, to the way you smiled and how you laughed. The interactions might differ but the regret that haunts you after is the same.

So, you diluted your being, in an effort to be more acceptable, easier in the lives of the people around you. You believed that if you pleased everyone you ever encoutered then at the end you must satisfy yourself too.

You sigh softly, drumming your fingers along your knee. You’re starting a new year in college tomorrow. Your first one wasn't exceptional by any means. Aileen, the girl who sat beside you from time to time was nice, and you grabbed coffee sometimes as you prepared for your exams together. But she had other friends, ones she's much closer to, ones she invited to her birthday party, ones who she didn't simply fill her free time with.

You shake your head, putting a stop to the thoughts in your head before they get too much once again, pushing you over an edge you don't want to be in right now. 

You'll try harder this year. You'll be okay, for once.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Your professor Lee is scribbling something on the large whiteboard, as he waits for the class to fill up. Someone sits next to you, and the smell of their cologne wafts to your nose- hints of vanilla and wood seemingly calming down your nerves. You quickly take a glance at them, to find a guy with long brown hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He's taking out his notepad from his bag, and you smile at the chick keychain he has on it. He catches you looking and you quickly avert your gaze, heat creeping up your cheeks. 

"Hi, I'm Felix," he greets enthusiastically, and you turn your head slowly to be met with his wide grin. It softens his features, making his eyes turn into moon crescents. You envy his ability to smile without overthinking how he looks. 

"Yn," you introduce back, and he nods, the grin still etched on his face. "You were in my Economics class last year, no?" he asks and you tilt your head to the side, as you mull over his question.

"I was but I don't remember seeing you," you admit sheepishly and he waves a hand in the air, not bothered the least by your words. 

"It's okay, I just remembered your presentation on Inflation. I finally understood why we can't just print more money," he admits with a chuckle, and you giggle against your will. 

"I don't blame you, it sounds like an easy solution," you agree, and his eyes widen. 

"Right! when I tell my friends they just stare at me in disappointment."

You laugh at his adorable pout, an unfamiliar warmth stirring within your chest. He's nice. 

"I'm glad I helped you then, I was so nervous presenting it," you clear your throat as he smiles impressively at you. "Really? I couldn’t tell at all." 

Mr. Lee calls for your attention and you both turn your heads back to the board. You couldn’t really focus, Felix’s words echoing in your head like a broken mantra- he couldn’t tell you were nervous. A sudden relief dawns on you at the possibility that, maybe, not everyone is aware of the neverending storm raging within you, threatening to drown you at any giving moment.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"Movie night at my dorm?" Felix proposes as he packs up his bag, your two hours long class finally done.

"Will Seungmin be there?" you ask, a slight edge to your voice and Felix pauses, shaking his head at you.

"Yn, you're overreacting. I promise he doesn't hate you."

"Have you ever seen him smiling at me?" you ask, arching your eyebrow expectantly at him. He stays silent and you wiggle your finger in the air. "Exactly! Please tell me he won't be there."

"About that... He's helping me bake the cookies," Felix smiles sheepishly and you groan, falling dramatically on your seat.

"I’m not coming."

"But the cookies," Felix pouts, and the promise of the chewy baked goods is so enticing it makes you second-guess your decision.

"The cookies...," you whine, and Felix giggles grabbing your hand to pull you up.

"I’ll see you at 5?"

"Yes," you concede, a small smile on your lips. You wait until Felix bids you goodbye for it to finally slip from your face.

Seungmin has never liked you, from the moment Felix introduced you to him. You still remember it clear as day, the way his eyes slightly widened when they fell on you, before narrowing down. How he didn't utter a single word when Felix left you both alone to get your drinks. Your panic grew as an uncomfortable silence reigned on the both of you, and you racked your brain for something to say to cut through that eerie quiet.  

"Seungmin, right?" you asked, a bit too cheerfully, and you winced inwardly at your tone. He didn't reply, only humming back. It was so faint you wouldn't have caught it had you not been staring at him intently.

"What's your major?" Your voice cracked.

"Computer science." He replied curtly, and you waited patiently, expecting him to return the question. He didn't. And you shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. Maybe he just didn't do well with strangers. Maybe he wasn't a chatty person, to complement Felix's extroverted nature.

But you were wrong. You watched in complete astonishment as he teased Felix relentlessly, a wide smile on his face. It made his eyes soften, a newfound fondness itching itself on his expressions. He laughed and he joked and you felt yourself shrink more and more, this way he wouldn't notice you anymore, wouldn't glare at you as if you did something horribly wrong to him.

Felix tried to include you as best as he could in their conversation, but you tuned it out. It was hard to focus on their talk when there was a tumultuous one ongoing in your mind. Seungmin's behavior just further cemented every horrible idea you held about yourself. There is something wrong about you, and he can see it. You may have fooled Felix but you didn't fool Seungmin. If you were him you wouldn't talk to you either.

Every encounter with Seungmin since then left you feeling fifteen years old again, in a classroom full of unkind eyes zeroed on you. You tried to talk about his interests, to string along a normal conversation, one that would reassure that your first encounter was a wrongful impression.

But he did not like talking to you, only offering short replies in response. It’s as if his tongue was tied in your response, and in return it only magnified the knot in your stomach. You went through every conversation with him a million times in your head, trying to pinpoint what exactly went wrong. What warranted him to be so silent in your presence, and yours only, as if you weren’t worthy of a simple conversation. And the answer always tied back to you.

So, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past month, sparing him the chore that is existing near you. It was particularly hard since Felix was his best friend and roommate, and surprisingly he actually enjoyed spending time with you. Still, you couldn’t help but think that it was only a matter of time before Felix started to hate you too.  

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"You're moving too much," Seungmin chastises and you freeze in your place at his words. You are sitting on the couch of Felix’s dorm later on that day, a horror movie playing in the small TV before you. Felix decided to lay on the floor, buried in a pool of yellow blankets, and a long pillow that weirdly had the picture of one of their friends printed on it. "It's my safety net," he explained and you didn't question him any further.

For some reason, Seungmin decided to sit next to you, instead of the opposing couch. Granted, he can see the TV more clearly from here, still this is the first time he willingly went somewhere near you, let alone talked to you.

You decide to ignore him, too focused on predicting the next jump scare, your feet tapping the floor furiously. But still, it happens so abruptly, eliciting a startled gasp from you, anf you clutch the edge of the couch even tighter.  

"Close your eyes," Seungmin speaks suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at him, confused. 

"There is a jump scare coming soon," he clears his throat, "just... close your eyes if you don't want to see it." 

You comply without much thought and soon enough, you can hear a shrill scream coming from the screen. He was right. 

"It passed," he says softly, and you tentatively open your eyes once again. There is a foreign expression on Seungmin's face, one you haven't seen before, but it passes as quickly as it came, like a dream slipping between your fingers as soon as you wake up. 

"How did you know?" you ask, hugging your knees tightly to your chest. 

"I already watched this movie."

"Really? Why are you watching it again?"

"Because. I had nothing better to do," he says, almost defensively, his hand now covering his mouth as if he had to physically stop the words from spilling out. 

You don't reply, turning back to look at the screen. Seungmin doesn't tell you when a jump scare is coming next, he simply taps your arm, and you close your eyes on cue. 

His hand brushing against your bare skin feels weird, not uncomfortable by any means, but it still is a foreign sensation. You didn't know he had such soft hands, and you always imagined them to be cold. But they are warm, and you wonder what other things about Seungmin you've been wrong about.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"I'm so tired," Felix groans, laying his head on your shoulder and you giggle, patting his head in mock sympathy. It's been three months since the start of your year, which means that the assignments are starting to pile up on you all.

"Me too," you sigh, and Seungmin stays silent next to you. Felix dragged you both to this coffeeshop, a little outing to recharge his spirit, as he texted you. You're slowly getting used to Seungmin's brooding presence. He talks to you a little more, even cracking a few jokes here and there. But you’re still wary of him. You keep your guard up just in case he forcefully brings a mirror to your face once again, reminding you of everything you despise about yourself.

"I'll go order, it's my treat. Pick a place for us?" Felix says and you nod, walking ahead of Seungmin towards a table near the back.

You sit down first, and Seungmin follows second, sitting right across from you. You quickly bring out your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the apps to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"You have a presentation tomorrow, right?" Seungmin speaks up, startling you, and you slowly put your phone down.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Felix told me that it makes up 25% of your grade. Are you nervous?"

"A little," you admit, even though ‘a little’ didn't even begin to cover it.

"Don't be. You'll do well," he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You almost feel as if you've imagined it before it dissipates.

"Thank you," you nod, as Felix brings the tray down your table.

"Is this for me?" you ask tentatively, pointing to the strawberry milkshake, a sore thumb sticking out between the iced americano, and the hazelnut Frappuccino, Seungmin’s and Felix’s respective go to orders.

"They got the order wrong. I got you an iced matcha," Felix pouts, double checking his receipt.

"It's okay," you smile slightly. There was nothing you despised more than having to change up your order.

"You don't want to drink this," Seungmin says, staring at you expectantly and you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "I don't mind."

Seungmin stands up, grabbing the drink from your hand before taking the receipt from the table. He goes to the counter and you watch in astonishment as he comes back, a green drink in hand this time.

"Here," he hands you your cup, before grabbing his own and sipping from it. Your drink is cold, but the warm tingles spreading through your being at his sweet gesture outweigh any other feeling.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Talking in front of 267 people never gets easier.

You memorized your presentation; you rehearsed it so much you could probably recite it with your eyes closed. Yet, the nerves still found a way to weave themselves inside you. Your hands were shaking, so much you couldn't even stare at the notes you prepared. Your palms were sweaty, blood rushing rapidly to your ears, tuning out your voice as you spoke.

You can’t even recall what you said exactly, it’s as if your body had a mind of its own, your mouth moving itself without you commanding it. You aren’t sure how it was, but someone smiled at you reassuringly from the first row, and the professor clapped, so you assume you did okay.

The class finally ends, your nerves slowly dissipating and leaving in their trail an excruciating exhaustion. You rub your eyes tiredly, as you slowly walk out of the door, before stopping in your tracks when you notice Seungmin leaning against the wall, hands buried in his varsity jacket.

His eyes are closed, a pair of earphones dangling across his chest. But then, as if he feels you looking at him, he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on you. You stay put in your place as he walks to you, his bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. He hooks his thumb underneath the strap, keeping it in place

"How was it?" he questions, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he was asking about. Your presentation. Was he waiting for you?

"I think I did well?" you reply, but it comes out more of a question to which he giggles softly.

"Are you asking me?" he teases and you roll your eyes playfully. "I did well," you repeat and he smiles, nodding a bit. "I’m sure you did. Here." He opens his bag, taking out your favorite chocolate bar from it- it had bits of caramelized pistachio and almonds in it. Seungmin doesn’t like it, he prefers plain milk chocolate, as Felix told you one day.

"Eat this, I ended up buying two by mistake, I still have an extra one at the dorm." You grab it from his hands, and he quickly leaves before you could properly thank him.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

You always dread the days you'd wake up with a heavy weight crushing your chest.

You try to distract yourself, try to focus in class and take notes. You try to laugh at Felix's jokes and savor the brownies he just brought you. But you can't. It feels as if you're a cup filled to the brim, each passing second bringing you closer to when that fateful drop would finally make you overflow. And you could do nothing but watch yourself unravel.

Seungmin's eyes never leave you, and it only makes your anxiety spike. It feels as if he's peering inside your soul, witnessing how a cord ties itself around your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You can't speak anymore, every word you say threatening to make tears spill out of your eyes. You aren't sure you can make them stop if they ever start falling.

Nothing happened, nothing's happening, you try to remind yourself. But you are scratching your hand incessantly, and you feel an overwhelming need to flee. To run away, somewhere where only you would witness the display of your broken soul. So you sputter a meek excuse, and then you stand up and head to your dorm.

It's raining outside, and you don't have an umbrella. But you are grateful for it, since the rain mingles with your salty tears, shielding them from the curious eyes of the people passing by. You need to get home, you need to hide somewhere and you need to remember how to breathe-

"Yn," a hand grabs your forearm and you startle, instinctively taking two hurried steps back. It's Seungmin. He removed his blue hoodie and he's now placing it over both of your heads.

"What are you doing? You'll get sick," he sounds mad, and you can't take his disappointed tone anymore.

"I'm having a bad day and I don't need you to make it worse," you say, startling yourself with the raw emotion in your voice.

He physically recoils from your words, his arms faltering as he gazes at you, a wounded look in his eyes. "I make your days worse?" he asks quietly and his voice sounds so small, you can't help the regret that courses through you.

"Come on, Seungmin," you chuckle warily, "don't you hate me?"

"No?"

"Hate is a strong word, okay. You dislike me."

"I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Because you never wanted to talk to me, from the moment we met. And it wouldn't matter if you were this way with everyone, but it's only me. And you make me feel so small each time I'm around you," you ramble angrily, as Seungmin's eyes widen with each passing second.

"Yn, yn, I don't- I didn't know you felt this way, but I don't hate you. I truly don't, I promise you," he's panicking, voice growing higher with each word, and you feel a sudden embarrassment flood your being for lashing out at him.

You don't know what to say and he sighs, looking up at the cloudy sky before meeting your eyes once again.

"This is embarrassing, God, um..." he places his hoodie on top of your head before running a hand through his face. "I don't talk to you because you make me nervous." 

"I do?"

"Yes. A lot," he chuckles, a pink hue tinting his cheeks. "I just... I find you very interesting, and funny, and I like watching you, not in a creepy way, my God what am I saying," he whines, hiding his face in his hands and you can't help the giggle that escapes your mouth.

"Don't laugh," he pouts and you nod, willing the smile to disappear from your face. 

"I like watching you exist. Just laugh and smile and talk. You look very pretty doing it. I just don't know how to deal with it. That's on me."

This time the smile is effectively gone from your face. The weight of his confession distracting you from the turmoil of emotions that swirled within you.

"I'm sorry, for making you feel that way. I never meant to. For what it's worth, you make me feel like a small kid again, as if I'm having a crush for the first time." 

A fresh wave of tears brims in your waterline, and Seungmin's eyes soften at the sight.

"Please don't cry," he says, gently wiping the rain droplets from your cheeks. "I don't hate you, I think I like you too much and that's the problem." 

I'm sorry I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away

"Okay," you say quietly, your mind not yet registering what he said, too busy focusing on his hands on your face. You can't believe you've ever felt invisible because of Seungmin, when he's looking at you like you're the most precious being in the world. 

"You had a bad day?" he asks, his knuckles brushing against your cheek tenderly, and you nod, silently. 

"Would you like a hug?" he asks, and you nod again. A hug sounded nice. 

He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. His t-shirt is cold, clinging to his now wet skin. But a surprising warmth emanates from his chest, shielding you from the pouring rain- it travels from his body to yours, as if it's a familiar path, one it underwent a million times before. His hand finds your back, and he pats it gently, following a soothing rhythm, one you try to sync your breathing to. "You did well," he whispers, "you always do well," and his words feel like a patch of shade on a scorching day.

You exhale softly, tightening your arms around his waist. You think you can stay here, for a while. You could rest in Seungmin, now and tomorrow, and maybe for the following months. If he still likes you this much. 

Bonus 

"I'm ready," Seungmin says, his soft hair tickling your bare skin. He's laying on top of your stomach, black tie undone, a piece of crumpled paper in his hands. You can tell he's nervous, with the way he looks up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. You lean down, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head. He closes his eyes, his hold on the yellowed paper slightly faltering.

"I'm all ears," you whisper, and he smiles softly at you, before looking at his written vows- the ones you decided to read to each other after your wedding ceremony, just the two of you, in your personal bubble. It feels much more intimate this way, they are words meant for you only to hear, after all.

"My love," he starts, and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep them at bay. "If I'm reading this it means I finally married you, which is probably the best thing I've ever done in my life." You giggle and he can't help but smile at the sound of your laugh.

"I am writing these vows one year into our relationship, I haven't proposed yet, but I just know you're the one I want to marry. And I suppose I don't want to forget everything I want to say to you, when that day comes." His words make your breath hitch in your throat as realization dawns on you- he wrote this three years ago, and he kept it safe, till this day.

"I still remember when I saw you for the first time. I couldn't talk because you looked so pretty, and you were smiling at Felix and I felt an overwhelming need to be the one you were smiling at. I think you cast a spell on me because I couldn't even ask you about your major back, I couldn't believe how awestruck I was. But you already know this, don't you?" He looks up at you, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and you smile widely. You still remember when Seungmin recounted the first time you met, from his perspective. Rosy cheeks and fumbling words as he explained how much he felt for you in that instant, and how little he could express it.

"But there are still things I haven't told you," he clears his throat. "Like how Felix told me what horror movie he was planning to watch with you, and I looked it up the night before, to memorize all the jump scares just in case you were afraid. And you were, and I'm glad I did. I don't even like horror movies, but it was worth watching it three times in a row, just for you."

"Also, how I had to run out of my class to yours, so I'd catch you after the end of your presentation. I bought that chocolate only for you. I kept a stack of fifteen bars hidden in my desk, just in case you were feeling down, and you ended up needing it. I kept asking Felix about everything you liked, and disliked, and he was probably sick of me at that time," he chuckles, as memories of begging his roommate for any bit of information about you flooded his mind.

"I don't know how far into the future it'll be when I'll finally read this to you. I don't know how I'll be, or where I'll be, but as long as you're with me then I must be okay. I used to overthink everything, plan every part of my life so it'd run smoothly. That is until you came into my life, so suddenly, and you flipped it upside down. I didn't care to plan my life anymore, all that mattered is that it revolved around you," he pauses, sucking in a deep breath.

"I knew I wanted to marry you when you took me stargazing. You talked about the stars and galaxies so excitedly. And then you brought up Saturn; how it was unique among the planets, adorned with thousands of ringlets. And I remember thinking that you're my saturn, you're the dazzling planet that everyone admires and I'm the ring spinning around you, the one you're keeping afloat. And as long as you're here, I have a purpose and I'm okay. So please..." his voice wavers, as silent tears slip out of his eyes.

"Don't leave me. I know we're married now, but still, don't leave me. I love you. I feel like I've loved you in different lifetimes, in different earths and timelines. Everything can come crashing down around us, but one thing that'll forever remain the same is my love for you. I was made to love you, after all. My eyes were made to look at you, and my hands to graze your cheeks. And my heart... My heart was made to beat for you. And I love you. I feel like I don't say it enough but I truly love you. As long as I'm breathing then I'm yours."

[lulujeno]

them as your older brother, finding out you have a crush on one of their members

— nct dream ᡣ𐭩

cw : some of them question ur taste in men but thats overall it, just some playful banter :D

a/n : really nervous for my exam tmr so i wrote this to calm me down ^^ gender neutral as always but it's a little shorter than my other one, hope you guys enjoyyyt <3

mark:

your crush on renjun wasn't that obvious at first

well that was until your youtube search history betrayed you

mark was borrowing your laptop one day and was so confused when the most recent searches was just renjun

"renjun fancam" "renjun cute moments" "renjun being mad at dreamies"

didn't put two and two together just yet but it was at the back of his mind for sure

would call you to visit the dreamies more often to see if his assumption was right okay scooby doo

you'd bring snacks and drinks most of the time, somehow always getting renjun's favourite stuff

texted you the moment he was sure that you do have a crush on his bandmate

you admitted it and since then he's been the #1 y/njun shipper

gives you updates about renjun

if it isn't obvious enough, he does approve of junnie (maybe a little too much)

renjun:

came to him one day for help since you were thinking of confessing to haechan

looked directly into your eyes and tells you you can do better than haechan

"haechan? of all people??"

proceeded to tell you that he already knows about your little crush

would tell you things that haechan likes or dislikes, even though he looks like he disapproves

secretly happy that its someone he knows really well and not some random douche

you'd notice jun's little ways of helping you get with your crush

you give him a small smile and he'd mouth to thank him later

would still nag to you because he really can't see what you see in his bandmate

"whatever makes you happy"

don't worry, he approved of haechan after seeing the way he treats you

jeno:

tried to act surprise when you said you found mark interesting

you hit him jokingly because of how bad his acting was

teases you about your crush

when you visit the dreamies he does that thing with his eyebrows and makes it really obvious that you like his bandmate

but for real though, he'd be really supportive and actually try to help you out

would still give you the 'don't get your hopes up' talk since he doesn't want you to be heartbroken

happy that you came to him for help with your little crush (you? not so happy because he's so obvious)

"mark did you see y/n's new hair?" "mark doesn't y/n smell good today?" "mark you're not gonna give y/n a hug too?"

you want to smack jeno every time he does it thank god mark lee is oblivious as hell

haechan:

thought that you were joking when you said like jaemin

realised that you were serious and suddenly theres plan a all the way till z to get you and jaemin together

one of then was to lock you both in a closet (in hopes that it ends with you guys kissing ONLY)

like jeno, tells you to not get your hopes up too high since the last thing he wants is to see his sibling cry over a MAN.

still questions why you like jaemin though, he thinks that that guy is weird

tried to tell you things to give you the ick about jaemin but it doesn't work

at one point he got too tired waiting for you to confess so he told jaemin himself

don't worry, he told you when he was going to spill the beans (yeah like 5 seconds before he said it)

jaemin:

jisung?? of all people??? that boy can't even take care of himself, how would he take care of you?

gives you a whole ted talk on why you should go for a real man like mark or jeno instead

ends up seeing what you see in jisung though

tall? deep voice? big hands? can dance? that ticks off everything in your list!

the talk ends with him being supportive and brainstorming ideas on how to make you guys a real couple

would straight up tell jisung that you like him

probably gave jisung a whole protective brother talk that scared the poor guy

tells you that it's the only way because things need to be clearly said to jisung or else he'd be too shy to initiate anything

asks for cat food in return if everything works out because he has children to feed!

chenle:

be fr, zhong chenle knows everything

so when you told him that you like jeno he did not bat an eye

tbh he was just waiting for you to admit it before going through with his plan

the plan? you accidentally tripping in front of jeno, landing on top of him, and kissing him

you just stand there thinking if your brother was actually stupid enough to think that it'll work

doesn't play when it comes to y/nno

but if jeno does end up liking you back suddenly chenle's favourite place is the gym

also doesn't play when it comes to protecting his sibling

warns jeno that if he breaks your heart then he will break other things!

jisung:

was appalled when he found out that you like chenle

chenle? zhong chenle?? his best friend of 8 years zhong chenle ???

give him a second to take it all in

finally connected the dots on why you keep asking for updates about chenle

would help you out in a subtle way

ways like making chenle sit beside you or asking chenle to call you instead of doing it himself

backfires soon after since he told chenle that you watch basketball

forgot to add in wives, you watch basketball wives not basketball itself

can't keep a secret for too long, especially one about chenle so give it 2 weeks tops before your crush finds out

fair to say it ended with both of them spamming you (one to apologise and the other? other reasons)

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 1: Overheard [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

Note: Welp I had the itch to write again so here I am. Though sleep deprived because baby keeps waking up every 3 hours to feed... I wanted to do this haha. Based on @soulprompts “I love you” prompts. What other character should I do?

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread, some are just concepts of liking someone, having a crush on them, while some are full blown love confessions. SOME ARE ANGSTY, chose only the male characters I wanted to write for instead of forcing myself to do all of them.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader  

Other works in this series: (Part 2 - Description)

Scenario: Talking to a friend about how you feel about him. Unbeknownst to you, he was listening, hidden round the corner. What does he do?

Aether

“He’s sweet,” You simply answer when asked what you like about Aether. “I mean, he’s a simple guy. He’s not a mystery, it’s not hard to read him nor to get along with him. I guess that’s one of the reasons why a lot of people like him.” 

“Uhuh,” your friend drawls, their head lazily resting on their hand. “but you don’t just like Aether. You seriously LIKE him,” 

You’re rendered speechless by the statement for a second, tripping over your first words, “Well--I mean--” and as if realizing you’re making a fool of yourself by speaking in garbles, you recover. “Yeah, I guess...” You don’t know why you admit to it, but it’s not like your friend didn’t already know.

What he does:

Is tempted to immediately walk up to you and reconfirm the conversation.

Stops himself for a minute and replays the whole conversation in his head, probably once, twice and maybe a third time.

Second guesses himself, but when he finally goes through all possible options, he realizes there’s no mistaking the overheard confession.

All the while, Paimon is nagging him to go talk to you. “You didn’t hear wrong! Stop thinking too much, hurry and go!” Ends up being pushed out into the open by his flying companion.

“Erm...Ahem” he coughs into his fist. “I...didn’t mean to eavesdrop...Y/N, sorry, but... can we continue this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere...a little more private?” and the shy smile he gives you is a tell tale sign that he had most likely felt the same.

Albedo

“His schedule is always busy. He has his hands full with Klee, on top of all the work he needs to do,” was your excuse to your friend when asked why you haven’t confessed to the alchemist yet. “I don’t think Albedo has time for this type of thing, you know? He doesn’t need a distraction.”

What he does:

His logical side agrees that he doesn’t need a distraction.

But the other part of him doesn’t mind if its you.

Pauses for a moment, thinks about it for a second, before confronting you about it just minutes later.

“...Schedules can be made flexible, Y/N,” you jump at his sudden voice. “Just as distractions...can sometimes be a good thing,” Albedo stretches a hand out to you. “...Care to test how good of one you can be to me?” 

Alhaitham

“Y/N, Alhaitham is FAR from stupid. There’s no way he hasn’t figured out that you have a crush on him,”

“Shush!!” You swerve around to your friend, ducking a little, as if that would help you become invisible. “People could be listening, besides, if that’s true, then it’s even worse. It means that he knows, and probably has no interest in me, so let’s just forget about it, ok?” 

What he does:

..................................No he doesn’t know. Sure he’s smart but............he could be dense when it came to these things. That, or he just didn’t know what to do.

Does not confront you about it immediately. In fact he turns around and walks away without being spotted, opting to think about his next steps instead of just rushing into the conversation.

Lo and behold a few days later he’ll show up in front of you with his usual stoic expression.

“Y/N,” he starts, and you freeze on the spot, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Y-Yes?” You haven’t seen nor heard from him in days and as usual, you attributed it to him being busy. Little did you know that he had been mulling over how to talk to you.

“I heard your conversation with (your friend) the other day,” straightforward was his answer to everything, even in this particular situation. 

It takes you a few seconds to internalize his words. You’re not even sure which conversation he means. You talk to (your friend) a lot. Your brows start to furrow in confusion, until he clarifies. 

“...I wouldn’t say that I completely have no interest in you,” he starts, and your shoulders tense up, now realizing which conversation it was. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, all you wanted to do was run away. 

Alhaitham holds back a sigh, “...Anyway, here is no place to talk about this... I’ll meet you at Puspa Cafe tonight, if you’re free,” 

You’re FAR from stupid too, and knew exactly what he was trying to do.

Ayato

“Besides why would the Lord Commissioner even look at someone like me?” you hiss at your friend who was trying to persuade you that Ayato also had the hots for you. It just seemed a little delusional to you.

“He takes the chance to rile you up every time he sees you. He’s obviously doing it on purpose,” your friend counters. You roll your eyes up to high heaven.

“He does that to everyone...” you conclude, knowing that Ayato had the habit of--though you don’t know if intentionally--giving his servants a scare. 

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to be so jealous,” your friend quips back, you send them a quick glare before going back to doing your own work.

What he does:

Doesn’t even bat an eye. Smirks as he hears the whole story. 

Confidently reveals his presence to the two of you, chuckling.

“Jealousy doesn’t usually paint a beautiful colour,” he starts, the overly pleasant smile on his face. You straighten up immediately, eyes changing into saucers when you realize he had heard the whole thing. You open your mouth to explain, but he beats you to it.

“But I must say it looks a little different on you, Y/N, almost charming,” The side of his lip quirks up the slightest bit into a subtle grin. You bite your lip, there he is again trying to rile you up, maybe (your friend) was right. 

“...Is there anything I can do for you Lord Commissioner?” you ask, trying to stray away from the subject. He only chuckles. 

“You’ll find that there are a LOT of things you can do for me, Y/N. Start by accompanying me to tea, hm?” He wasn’t really asking, it was almost a command. 

You wished your friend snickering on the side would just shut up.

Cyno

“...He’s a little intimidating don’t you think? I don’t know why you like him so much,” your friend comments, slacking off on their pile of paperwork. You roll your eyes at them. 

“Maybe because he works hard, unlike other people,” you shake your head a little. 

“As General Mahamatra he’s supposed to work hard. Just admit that you have weird tastes.” your friend counters, still procrastinating on their share of work.

“Okay, so what if he’s a little vicious in his ways? He’s just doing his job. Now, it would help me if you started doing yours as well,” 

What he does:

Doesn’t know what to do.

Stands hidden for quite a long time. The subject has already moved on and away from him.

Torn between revealing himself now or later. 

Can’t think properly so exits from the situation and comes back later that same day, when you’re still working with your friend.

As he approaches your table, your friend notices him first. (Your friend) nudges you with their elbow, tilting their chin up to let you know that someone was approaching. 

You pick your head up, and feel yourself go rigid when you see that it’s Cyno. At first you think to yourself that he might not be here to talk to you, maybe he’s just about to walk by...but he stops in front of your table and you’re left to wordlessly look up at him.

There’s a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“...I value the high praise that you give me,” he starts and you immediately want to duck under the table and hide.

He heard. 

“O-Oh, G-General Mahamatra, you heard that...It’s...nothing, hard work deserves to be praised...” you avert your gaze down to the papers you were working on, pretending to continue and be busy with them. 

There was an awkward pause, your eyes darting up towards him for a second, checking if he was still looking at you, before breaking away again and furiously flipping through papers.

“...Do you want to play some TCG?” 

“Huh?” You end up with an incredulous look on your face, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face is still blank, but the usual tenseness in the way he carried himself gave way for a barely seen relaxation. It was hard to spot, but it was there. 

You ended up sighing a little in what you could only describe as relief, giving him a lopsided smile. “Sure, but go easy on me, I haven’t played in a while,”

“That’s fine. Perhaps a daily practice session will do you good,”

Dainsleif

“Mysterious, aloof, disappears into thin air... A man like that? You probably should stay away, Y/N. You don’t know what he dabbles in,” (Your friend) warns, looking at you with genuine concern. 

“Perhaps he has some secrets...but I don’t think he’s a bad guy at all. I’ve spent some time conversing with Dainsleif here and there,” you continue to wipe the tables, not noticing that the man you were talking about had long entered the tavern already and was now standing behind the two of you.

“At least he’s handsome, there’s that,” (Your friend) adds. 

“Sure, but that’s not the only reason I like him,” you laugh.

What he does:

Wonders if he heard the conversation right and overanalyzes what you mean by “like” him.

Either way it stirs a strange emotion in him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Prefers to get things over with and thinks there’s no harm in confronting you immediately.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Thinking that it was a customer you turn around with a pleasant smile, only for it to slowly dwindle down into a shocked expression.

Dainsleif.

“Y/N,” he nods his head towards you casually. You gulp, force a smile, and nod back. “Hi, you’re early today,” just as your friend slips away from the conversation. Dainsleif doesn’t even spare them a glance.

He doesn’t have much to say about your comment of him being early. He doesn’t particularly know why he was early today either. Perhaps...fate would have him hear the conversation between you and (Your friend).

“Yes, well, it looks like there were benefits to being early today,” he meets you eye to eye, the intensity in his gaze almost makes you blush from your neck all the way up to the top of your head, but you fought the giddiness back. 

“...What can I get you?” there’s a shiver that threatens to run up your spine, wondering if your deflection was successful. Dainsleif closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them with a strange sense of courage. 

“Your company,”

Diluc

“It’s been years,” (Your friend) says, the two of you looking up at the massive oak tree of Windrise. They glance at you from the side of their eye before continuing. “Are you still in love with Diluc?”

There’s a breeze that passes, almost melancholic, and partly whispered of sorrow. “...I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.” You pick your hand up to rub at your arm. “Jean, Kaeya, Diluc and I...So many things have changed since we were kids...but I don’t think that spot for Diluc will ever go away,”

“Does he know, at least?” (Your friend) asks and you half scoff. 

“I’m not sure, I get the feeling he does, but doesn’t act on it. Which is why...maybe the only way to solve this emptiness is to leave Mondstadt altogether.” 

“Out of sight, out of mind huh?” (Your friend) claps your back, and turns around to start walking away with you.

What he does:

Internally a mess of emotions. Doesn’t know where to start. 

but he’s just standing there and he’s stuck watching (your friend) and you turn around to come face to face with him. 

He looks at you, a wave of memories and emotions flashing through his mind all at once, it almost overwhelms him. 

“D-Diluc,” you stutter, heart freezing in your chest. You see him take a steadying breath in, prying his gaze away from you and over to (Your friend).

“(Your friend), could you give us a minute?” he asks. (Your friend) obliges, passing you a quick glance before going ahead on their own. Another breeze runs by, ruffling his long red hair. 

“...I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you start, and yet he doesn’t say anything, prompting you to continue talking. “...You don’t have to think about it too much, it’s just silly--”

“I wasn’t sure,” he cuts you off, eyes drawn to the ground now. “I wasn’t sure...if you really felt that way.” 

The statement somehow exasperates you. “You weren’t sure? All those times I stayed by your side when everyone else left--” then it hits you. “Or were you scared, Diluc?”

The quick grimace in his expression tells you the answer. His reply comes a few seconds later, “I was, I still am,” but he picks his head up, and finally looks you straight in the eye. “...but this time...” his fists clench on his side. “This time give me the chance to show you how much I really care about you,”

He was not going to lose you too.

Itto

“Seriously?! Itto? Arataki Itto? Are you for real?” (Your friend) announces to nearly half of the food stall, the other customers swerving around to look at the two of you. 

"Oh, say it a bit louder why don’t you?” You roll your eyes at your friend and continue eating.”

“Sorry. I just--Out of all the people you could choose, your huge crush is on that big brute??” your can tell by the look on your friend’s face that they think you have weird tastes.

What he does:

Butts in without even thinking of the conversation. Has no clue what’s going on.

“Crush?!”

You and your friend startle, swerving around to see none other than the oni with his hands on his hips. “Y/N?! You planning on crushing me?!” then he guffaws with laughter, slapping his knees in the process. “Yeah right, you’re no match for me!”

Your previously gaped open mouth slowly closes and your shoulders relax, sighing. You’re a little disappointed he doesn’t get it at all. Your friend shakes their head with a long sigh. “You stupid oaf, we don’t mean it that way...” 

Itto’s head tilts sideways, a genuinely confused look on his face. “No? Then... Watcha all talkin about?” 

You grab your friend’s arm and pull them forward the slightest bit. “It’s not important! Actually, we better get going--”

“Y/N has a CRUSH on you, idiot! Y/N LIKES you!” Your friend explodes, patience long gone. 

Itto blinks at the confession, his eyes darts towards you, “...Oh,” then there’s the slight tugging at his chest, he can’t help but beam and smile silly. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself Y/N! I like you too!”

You’re not sure if he really understood the confession in its entirety. 

Kaeya

“It’s all just fun and games with Kaeya. It doesn’t mean anything,” you laugh sheepishly, yet you rub the back of your neck a little.

“...Do you want it to be just fun and games?” your friend chides, and there’s a moment of silence. The two of you just sitting there already knowing the answer, it’s almost uncomfortable, until your friend sighs. 

“...Let’s change the subject,” 

What he does: 

responds immediately. Will not wait a second longer to come out of his hiding place and ask about what he just heard.

“How about let’s not?” Kaeya emerges out of nowhere, slipping into the seat next to you at the cafe. His poise is confident and instantly his head lazily places itself into the palm of his hand, gaze lingering at you. 

“Snowflake, I had no idea you felt like that,” his voice is smooth like ice and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“...I didn’t say anything though?” you countered, trying to evade the conversation. Your friend watches on with interest. 

“Silence speaks volumes, Y/N,” Kaeya scoots even closer to you, your shoulders touching each other. However, he maneuvers his arm around to lay on the seat behind you. “So if you’re opposed to what I’m about to do, better speak up,”

He leans closer, inch by inch, he waits for you to say something.

You stay silent.

He grins.

Scaramouche

“Hat guy? He’s brutal. But who am I to comment on your tastes, Y/N. You’ve always been weird,” (Your friend) chides, watching as you go over the bookshelf again. 

“Stop calling him that,” You murmur under your breath, more focused on finding the right book for your research. “That’s not his only distinctive feature, you know,” you continue, still engrossed in looking for a book.

“Oh? What else are his “distinctive features”?” (Your friend) drawls, rolling their eyes. 

You hum a little, then plop on the ground cross-legged, wanting to get a better look on the last row of books of the Akademiya’s library. “...His eyes,” you simply answer. “They’re a beautiful shade of violet-blue...He’s always glaring at someone half of the time but he actually has very pretty eyes,” 

There’s silence and you finally get the peace you need to concentrate. However, that silence is broken by a voice that you know all too well.

What he does:

is amused.

thinks its cute pathetic.

will still look angry but will have a hard time actually being angry.

will be cocky.

“My eyes, huh?”

It’s hard to completely turn around in your sitting position, so you do the best you can to turn, side eye landing on Scaramouche’s form. He has his arms crossed as usual, but there’s a smug smirk on his face. “Didn’t know it was that fascinating to you, bookeater,”

It was supposed to be an insulting nickname for you, who always had your nose in a book, but you took no offense to it at all.

You didn’t know what to say, so you continued staring at him. He being the anti-social person that he was, just stared back. There was a big gap of silence before he felt that it was becoming too awkward. 

“...What’re you looking for?” he blurted out.

“...A book...”

“Are you stupid? Of course you’re looking for a book. I meant what’s the title?” There his usual sneer was back again and he unfolded his arms to look at you unimpressively. 

“...A History of Inazuma: Volume 2...” you meekly replied, slowly realizing that he actually heard you praising him.

“You’re in the wrong section,” the exasperated sigh he gives out causes you to wince, and you turn away back to the bookshelf as if to shield you from all this embarrassment. 

“If it’s about Inazuma, you should just be asking me,” you blink as your peripheral catches sight of an outstretched hand. You tilt your head to see that he’s offering his hand, but his face is blank.

“...Well? Come on. I don’t have all day,”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, something about the way he said it sounds threatening, but also slightly playful. But that’s just the way he was. 

You accept his hand, and he pulls you up easily.

Xiao

“Oh so that’s why you’re coming over more frequently...” (Your friend) grins, and you wave your hands around to tell them to quiet down. Adepti had good hearing after all.

“Well, I’m also coming over cause Verr Goldet needs more help these days in the kitchen. You guys are getting so much customers these days that Yanxiao has a hard time by himself,”

“Uhhuuhhhhhh, sure...was it also Verr Goldet who told you to try and master the Almond Tofu recipe from Yanxiao? Cause you’re awfully hell bent on trying to learn that recipe, according to Yanxiao,” 

You fall silent, feeling heat crawling up your neck. “I--” You start, searching for an excuse, but realized there was no escaping this one. “I just want to do something nice for Xiao, that’s all,” you innocently quip. “I...I know I can’t help him much, but maybe just cooking his favourite dish will help, even a little,”

(Your friend) smiles a little, knowing that the adepti probably heard everything. “That’s nice of you, Y/N. You must care about him a lot,” 

What he does:

once upon a time he would do absolutely nothing. because getting involved with humans is something he shouldn’t do.

But now he bides his time, and observes if it’s safe to open up. 

He wouldn’t outright thank you at first, but he’ll slowly show up in front of you a little more everyday.

He’s rather awkward, so at first he only nods his head as thanks when you leave the bowl of almond tofu on the ledge.

Eventually when he realizes you’re not going to stop cooking for him he goes the extra mile to do something simple for you too.

He places a stalk of your favourite flower on the ledge, right before you come to put down his bowl of almond tofu. 

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Check it out here:

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[baekhyunsbestie]

──★ god is a woman ˙🧸ྀི ̟ !!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 sum: you and your husband are completely smitten with your newborn baby, soaking in every moment of this new chapter in your life. but underneath it all, you can’t help but feel a lil insecure about your postpartum body. baekhyun, however, won’t hear any of it. what you don’t realize is that after watching what you went through bringing his beautiful, healthy daughter into the world, he sees you in an entirely new light. you created life—endured so much for him, for her, for your family. in his eyes, you’re a goddess, and he’s utterly devoted to you. and he's more than ready to show you just how much power you have over him.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: SMUT. 18+/MDNI. 5.6k+ words. baekhyun x f!reader. you're a milf, baekhyun's a dilf, and he calls you "ma" + "mama" :'), married!au, new parents, slice of life, angst + fluff, pet names, body worship, breastfeeding kink, fingering + oral + overstim (f! receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, and a whole lot of baekhyun talking you through it 😮‍💨 phhheeeeewwwww

it’s a quiet evening at home. the low hum of the baby monitor fills the air as your newborn sleeps soundly in the next room. life had changed so much in such a short time, and yet, you couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than this—being a mom, seeing baekhyun as a father, holding the tiny miracle the two of you had created together.

watching baekhyun cradle your baby, his soft voice murmuring sweet things as he gently rocked her to sleep, oh!—it melted your heart. he was so tender, so attentive. each time you saw him interact with your little one, it made you fall in love with him all over again. falling deeper and more intensely than you thought was possible. his fatherly side brought out something new in him, something that made your chest tighten with comfort. every smile, every quiet “i love you” he whispered to your baby girl made you feel incredibly blessed to say the least.

but there was something else—a heaviness you couldn’t shake, a shadow that loomed just behind the love and joy you felt.

the changes in your body had been gradual, but now, two months after giving birth, you couldn’t ignore them anymore. your body wasn’t the same. your belly hadn’t returned to its pre-pregnancy shape, your breasts were constantly swollen and sore, and your hips felt wider. you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without that persistent sense of imperfection creeping in. you were supposed to feel proud of what your body had accomplished—bringing life into the world—but instead, a growing discomfort and insecurity washed over you every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection. it got to the point where you avoided mirrors altogether. while brushing your teeth, you’d stare down into the sink, and the same went for washing your face. on the rare occasions you did glance at your reflection, it was only for a fleeting moment before the negative thoughts made you turn away.

you loved your baby more than anything, and the life you had with her and baekhyun felt like a dream come true. but the nagging thoughts kept creeping in—what if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore? what if he notices how much i’ve changed and doesn’t want me the way he used to? fifty percent of marriages end in divorce... what if he ends up finding me so undesirable that we become part of that statistic?

it was a silent war within you, a conflict between the pure joy of motherhood and the insecurities that threatened to swallow you whole.

baekhyun had always been loving, supportive—everything you could ever ask for. but lately, you found yourself pulling away. since the baby was born, the intimacy between you had dwindled, and even after your doctor cleared you for sex a few weeks ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to let him in. every time his hands grazed your skin, every time he tried to initiate something, you instinctively recoiled, overwhelmed by the insecurity tormenting you. it wasn’t him—it was you. you couldn’t stop feeling embarrassed, ashamed of the way your body had changed, of the woman you saw in the mirror.

tonight was just like any other. lately, you’d developed a bad habit of comparing yourself to others on social media. as you mindlessly scrolled through instagram, your feed was filled with photos of celebrity and influencer moms. your curiosity got the better of you, and you started looking through their pages, feeling a wave of jealousy with each post. 

they seemed to bounce back to their pre-baby bodies so quickly, showing off toned figures as if nothing had changed. each post served as a painful reminder of how far you felt from that ideal, feeding the insecurities already eating away at you. the more you scrolled, the heavier the feeling became, your own reflection feeling like a striking difference to the perfect images on your screen. you couldn’t help but question your body even more.

with a heavy sigh, you flung your phone across the room, no longer able to bear the relentless comparisons gnawing at you. it landed with a dull thud, but the weight in your chest remained, harsh like a gray storm cloud hovering just above you. you sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with your elbows pressed into your knees, as if the weight of the world was pulling you down. your head rested in your hands, fingers curling through your hair like you were trying to hold yourself together, piece by piece, before you fell apart.

a whirlwind of love for your baby and frustration with yourself raged in your mind, drowning out everything else. you were so lost in the chaos of your thoughts that you didn’t even notice baekhyun’s return from the nursery until his gentle touch on your shoulder pulled you back to the present. startled, you glanced up, praying he wouldn’t see the sadness lodged in your eyes like shards of glass. but the worry etched into his features sent a sharp ache through your chest, and you could see the panic begin to flicker in his wide eyes.

“hey, what’s wrong, mama? you feelin’ alright?” he asked softly, kneeling in front of you, his hand brushing against your thigh.

you forced a smile, nodding, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “yeah, just tired,” you murmured.

baekhyun frowned slightly, his hand moving up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your soft skin. “you’ve seemed distant lately,” he said, his voice low but filled with concern. “is everything okay? i mean… besides the baby and the lack of sleep?”

your throat tightened, the familiar lump of emotion rising as you struggled to find the words. you didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, not when he was being such an amazing father and partner. but the weight of it all was too much to carry on your own.

“i just…” you began, your voice shaky as you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “i don’t feel like myself anymore.”

baekhyun’s hand stilled, his eyes softening as he waited for you to continue. you took a deep breath, the words spilling out in a rush before you could stop them.

“i love her so much, baek. our baby… she’s everything to me. and every time i see you with her, it makes me fall for you all over again. you’re such an incredible dad, and i couldn’t have asked for a better partner to build a family with.” your voice trembled as you twisted the sheets between your fingers, the pressure behind your eyes building with unshed tears. “but... but i just can’t shake this feeling that i’m not enough anymore. i look at myself, and my body isn’t the same. i’m not the same. and i don’t know how to feel okay with that when i don’t recognize who i am in the mirror.”

baekhyun’s expression changed as he listened to you pour out everything you had been holding in, his heart breaking with each word. he had sensed the distance between you, the way you had pulled back, but he hadn’t fully understood the reasons behind it. he thought you just needed time to adjust to this new chapter in your lives. it was a significant change, and he knew how much you valued space when processing things, but he hadn’t realized it was tearing you apart like this. now, as he heard the depth of your pain and insecurities, guilt tightened in his chest for not recognizing it sooner.

the silence that lingers between you, coupled with your downcast gaze, speaks volumes. how could you possibly believe you weren’t beautiful anymore? he struggles to comprehend it, taken back by the thought. in truth, he has never found you more attractive than he does now. to him, you are a goddess, a magical being who has created and nurtured life. he holds you in the highest regard, without question.

“hey,” he whispered, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “you’re more than enough, and you always have been. you’re still the same woman i fell in love with. and when i look at you... all i see is someone who’s perfect. you’re the most beautiful thing in my life.”

you shook your head, the tears finally spilling over as you buried your face in his shoulder. “you don’t understand, baekhyun. i don’t feel beautiful. i look at myself, and all i see is someone who’s… different. i don’t know if you can love me like this.”

“do you really think that?” he asks softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “that i don’t think you’re beautiful? that i can’t love you the way you are?” his arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “baby, i love you more now than i ever have,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. he pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, “you gave me the most beautiful gift—the life we made together. how could i not love you more?”

you sniffled, your heart aching with a mix of love and insecurity. “but i’m not the same. my body… it’s changed so much.”

“i think you’re being too hard on yourself, 'ma,” he whispers softly. you can’t bear to meet his gaze; the moment you do, you know you’ll break. “it’s only been two months since you gave birth—just two months. it took you over nine to create her. even if it takes longer than that for you to feel like yourself again, i wouldn’t care. honestly, even if you never return to who you were, it wouldn’t matter to me. as long as you, my love, are happy and healthy, nothing else matters.”

his hands, warm and gentle, glide down your arms and rest on your waist, anchoring you in his affection. he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your stomach, his lips lingering as if savoring the bond between you.

baekhyun pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin towards him so you were forced to meet his gaze. his eyes were filled with so much love, so much respect, that it nearly took your breath away.

“you are everything to me,” he says firmly, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that finally escaped. “and this—” he gestures to your body, his eyes never leaving yours “—this body gave us our child. you carried our baby, you’ve sacrificed your sleep, your comfort, everything—and you’re still the most devastatingly beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, his touch so tender it made your heart swell. “why don’t you let me show you?” he murmured against your lips, his hand slipping down to cup your waist. “let me show you how much i love every inch of you.”

you hesitated for a moment, the familiar insecurity rising in your chest, but when you looked into his eyes, all you saw was honest love and pure devotion. there wasn’t a trace of doubt, not an ounce of anything but pure adoration for you—for all of you.

with a soft nod, you gave in, letting baekhyun lead you further onto the bed, his hands moving slowly, reverently, as if worshipping every part of you. a rush of vulnerability washed over you as he slipped off your oversized shirt, revealing your post-pregnancy body in all its glory, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. despite the insecurity that bubbled within, his lips found your skin, kissing you as if he were rediscovering every curve. each kiss, each gentle touch, was infused with such deep care that it made your heart ache in the best way

when his lips found your breasts, swollen and sore from breastfeeding, you tensed for a moment, the self-consciousness flaring up again. but baekhyun paused, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as he whispered, “these are so beautiful.”

he gently kissed your sensitive nipples, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness there. you gasped at the sensation, your body responding in ways you hadn’t expected, the embarrassment fading under the warmth of his touch. 

baekhyun's eyes darkened, a heated gaze sweeping over you. his breath caught as he took in the softness of your skin and the gentle curves of your body drawing him closer. in a husky whisper, he breathed, “god… you’re incredible. this body—how could you ever think i wouldn’t find it breathtaking?” 

you try to cover yourself, but he gently pulls your hands away, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist.

“don’t hide from me,” he whispers, his voice loving as he presses his lips to the curve of your stomach, right where the stretch marks are the deepest. “these marks… they’re so pretty. they’re proof of everything you’ve done.”

his words make your heart clench, and when he places another kiss along the line of your abdomen, your breath hitches.

he looks up at you, his hands running gently over the soft skin of your hips before dipping lower to caress your thighs. his touch is slow, intentional, as if he’s taking his time to worship every part of you.

“you don’t know how much i love this body,” he murmurs, his hands sliding upward to cup your breasts. his thumbs graze over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp as a rush of pleasure shoots through you. “the way it’s changed… the way you’ve changed. you’re more than i could have ever asked for.”

you bite your lip as you watch his soft, slender hands continue their agonizingly slow exploration, your body responding despite the insecurity still clinging to your thoughts. he leans forward, brushing his lips against one of your breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste the milk that’s already beginning to leak from your nipple.

“baek—hah” you gasp, but the sound turns into a moan as his mouth closes around you, gently suckling.

the sensation sends a jolt of warmth through your core, your hands finding their way into his hair as he continues to worship you. his tongue is slow, deliberate, drawing out each drop of milk as if savoring the taste.

when he pulls back, his lips are slick, his eyes dark with a mix of love and desire.

“i could do this all night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “you don’t know how much i want you. how much i crave every part of you.”

is words wrap around your heart like a cozy embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you begin to believe him. baekhyun shifts closer, bringing you face to face, his hands cradling your cheeks. the tip of his nose brushes against yours as he continues, “you’re perfect, and ’m gonna keep reminding you until you believe it.”

before you can respond, his lips crash into yours, a slow, consuming kiss that melts away every insecurity, every doubt. he kisses you like he’s trying to prove something—like he’s trying to show you just how much he means every word.

“relax f’me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with need. you obey, sinking into the soft sheets as baekhyun hovers over you, eyes dark and focused entirely on you.

“you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your side, sending shivers across your skin. he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking out to circle your nipple, the sensitivity from breastfeeding making you gasp.

the sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—raw, intimate, and so deeply connected that it makes your head spin. he groans softly against your skin, his hand kneading your other breast, coaxing out the milk that begins to flow. “ya taste s’good,” he murmurs between kisses, his tongue lapping at the milk that escapes. “so sweet.”

your cheeks burn at his words, but the way he worships you makes the embarrassment melt away, replaced by a deep, aching need. his lips continue their slow assault, drinking from you like he’s savoring every drop, and you’re helpless beneath him, your body responding to his every touch.

the pleasure is almost overwhelming, a slow, simmering heat that builds in your core. baekhyun’s free hand drifts lower, slipping beneath your underwear, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. you gasp at the contact, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“you’re so wet f’me,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. his fingers tease your entrance, his touch gentle but firm. “you like it when i drink from you, don’t you?”

you can only nod, too lost in the sensations to form a coherent response. baekhyun smirks, his thumb circling your clit as he presses a soft kiss to your chest, milk still glistening on his lips.

“i wanna hear ya say it,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding inside you slowly, stretching you in a way that makes your breath catch. “tell me how much you love this.”

you moan softly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “i love it hah—i love it when you nngghhh—when y’drink from me.”

baekhyun groans in response, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. “that’s right, mama,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “i’m gonna make ya feel so good. you deserve it.”

his fingers pump into you steadily, his thumb never leaving your clit, and you feel yourself spiraling, the pleasure building higher and higher with each stroke. his mouth, his hands, the way he’s so focused on you—it’s all too much.

“b-baekhyun, i—” you can’t even finish the sentence, the words caught in your throat as the tension in your core tightens, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and the sight of him—his lips wet from your milk, his fingers buried deep inside you—is enough to send you tumbling over the edge.

your orgasm crashes into you, your body trembling as you cry out his name. baekhyun’s mouth never leaves your breast, drinking from you as you fall apart beneath him, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you’re completely spent.

he finally pulls back, his lips releasing you with a soft, wet POP! making you shudder at the loss of contact. 

but baekhyun isn’t done yet. 

in fact, he’s just getting started.

he glides down your body, his hands leaving a trail of warmth across your skin before settling between your legs. and with a swift motion, he’s ripping your underwear off, leaving you utterly breathless and completely vulnerable. you barely have a moment to catch up, still trembling from the orgasm he just gave you. before you can process what's happening, his mouth is on you, his tongue teasing your overly sensitive clit. a gasp escapes your lips as your hips instinctively buck up into his mouth, but he holds you steady, his grip firm on your thighs as he devours you.

“holyyyy fuck—baekhyun, p-please!” you whimper, but you’re not sure what you’re begging for anymore. his mouth is persistent, his tongue swirling and flicking in all the right places, sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your already overstimulated body.

he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice low and rough, “mm mm,” he shakes his head, moaning into you, “not stoppin’ ‘til ya understand how much i love this body.”

his words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and before you can respond, his mouth is on you again, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers return, thrusting deep inside you.

you’re spiraling again, the pleasure building impossibly higher, your mind, body, and soul completely at his mercy. it wasn’t long before he had you cumming again with his name on your lips, your body trembling as he pushes you over the edge once again.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your body spent and trembling from the intensity of it all. “i love you,” he whispers, planting soft kisses up and down your thighs, “every part of you. don’t you ever doubt that.”

you nod, still breathless. “i love you. i believe you.”

but the tenderness of the moment vanishes as quick as it came. once you lock eyes, you notice that his are dark and filled with something raw, primal. his lips are wet from your orgasm, and the sight alone sends another surge of heat through your body. he presses one last kiss to your trembling thigh, his hands gripping you possessively as he pulls back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"i've missed having ya like this," he rasps, his voice thick with desire. his fingers continue to ghost over your sensitive skin, sending shivers through you. you can feel him, hot and hard against your inner thigh, the fabric of his gray sweats doing little to hide his need. the dark spot of precum soaking through makes it all the more obvious. "i’ve been waiting to be inside you, ‘ma. been drivin’ me crazy thinkin’ about it."

your breath catches at his words. you’ve been so wrapped up in your insecurities and exhaustion that you hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding back. the yearning in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a thrill down your spine.

“oh? is that so?” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, still coming down from the back to back orgasms he’s given you. you feel overwhelmed by how much he wants you, how much he’s been waiting for this moment, for you. 

“it is so.” he presses his forehead against yours, breathing you in like he’s trying to ground himself, but the tension in his body is evident. “you have no idea how badly i need this,” he groans, his lips brushing against yours. “how bad i need you.”

his words give you goosebumps, the weight of his need making your body ache with anticipation. you can feel how hard he is, his dick pressing against you as he rolls his hips, the friction making you moan softly into his mouth.

“well, hurry up then,” you whimper, your impatient hands slipping down his toned chest, tugging at his waistband. he lets out a low chuckle, but there’s nothing playful in the way his eyes darken with pure, unfiltered hunger.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear,” he says, pulling back just enough to slide out of his sweats, his cock springing free and brushing against your thigh. you gasp at the heat of him, the anticipation building with every second that passes.

his hand slips between your legs again, his fingers sliding through your wetness as he positions the pink tip of his aching dick at your entrance. he’s teasing you, slow and with purpose, as if savoring every second. he nudges his tip against you, and you gasp, already so sensitive from everything he’s done to you.

“i’ve thought about this every night,” baekhyun continues, his voice husky as his fingers dig into your hips. “about feeling you wrapped around me again. how perfect your pussy feels around me.” he slowly inches inside you, his length stretching you in a way that feels both familiar and completely new after so long.

you let out a shaky breath as he pushes in deeper, filling you completely. the sensation is overwhelming, his body pressed against yours, hot and solid, and for a moment, all the doubts and insecurities vanish under the sheer weight of his desire.

“oh—fffuuuck,” baekhyun groans, his voice low and strained as he stills inside you. his hands grip your hips tightly, as if he’s struggling to keep himself in check. he thinks if he starts moving he just might cum. and he can’t have that. not when tonight is all about you. “missed this so much. god, you’re so f-fuckin’ tight,” he groans, voice strained. “i’ve been hah—dying to be inside ya again, ‘ma.”

your hands slide up his arms, holding onto him as he slowly begins to move, each thrust deep and calculated, as if he’s savoring the feeling of being inside you again. his pace is unhurried, but there’s an intensity in the way he moves, a desperation that has been building for months.

“you’ve been drivin’ me crazy,” he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot against your taut skin. “every time i look at you, i just wanna nnghh—make you mine all over again.”

your nails dig into his back as he thrusts deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. he’s slow, almost torturously so, drawing out every sensation until your entire body is trembling beneath him.

“hah—and ya wanna know what else i’ve been th-thinkin’ about?” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “i wanna put another baby inside you.”

the words send a shockwave through your body, your breath hitching at the intensity in his voice. his hips snap forward a little harder now, his movements more purposeful, more driven by the raw need to claim you in every way possible.

you gasp, heart pounding at his confession. you feel dizzy with desire, his words igniting something deep within you.

“i’ve thought about it s-so many times,” he whimpers, his voice rough with need. “about filling ya up, nngghh—watchin’ ya grow round with our baby again. hah—y’looked so fuckin’ beautiful carryin’ our child. goddamn.”

each thrust punctuates his words, and the idea of him wanting to put another baby inside you only fuels the fire burning between you. you can feel his need, his desperation, and it pushes you closer to the edge with every movement.

baekhyun leans down, pressing a kiss to your parted lips, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your swollen clit. “i’m gonna make ya mine again,” he groans. “mmnnghh—’m gonna fill ya up, ‘ma. you’re mine—all mine. and every time you f-feel my cum dripping down your leg tomorrow hah—you’ll remember. just. how. much.”

the pressure builds rapidly, the combination of his praise and the way he’s holding you tightly as he’s rearranging your insides sends you spiraling. his thrusts quicken, and you can feel him losing control, the weight of his desire crashing down on both of you.

“oh, yes! f-fuck nnngghhh—baek!” you can’t even form the words, your body tightening around him as the pleasure builds higher and higher. his name falls from your lips again and again and again, your voice breathless as you grip his shoulders, your nails digging marks into his soft skin.

“’m so close,” baekhyun groans, his voice thick and rough as he pounds into you harder, his hips slamming into yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. “cum f’me, baby. i wanna hah—feel you.”

his words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. your vision turns white, body clenching all around him, hips bucking up into his as he continues to relentlessly thrust into you, chasing his own release.

baekhyun’s movements grow erratic, his hips snapping into yours with increasing urgency until he finally stills, his body shuddering as he spills inside you, coating your walls in a pretty white shade. the heat of him filling you makes you shiver, as he groans your name, his grip on your hips tightening as he rides out his release.

baekhyun collapses against you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed lovingly against yours. he’s still inside you, both of you completely wrapped up in each other, the weight of his body grounding you, making you feel safe, loved. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of both of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared release.

“i love you,” he whispers breathlessly against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. “i love everything about you, mama. you’re everything i need.”

after the intensity of the moment eases, baekhyun lifts his head, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. you both wince as he pulls out, the overwhelming sensitivity leaving you breathless. he settles close beside you, propping himself up, his hands gently gliding over your sides. his fingers trace the delicate curve of your waist, drawing you closer to him. his gaze softens, filled with affection as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. his fingers linger on your cheek, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts, the unspoken emotions swirling in his eyes.

“y’know,” he begins, his voice low, still catching his breath. but there’s a depth to it that makes your heart skip a beat. “i didn’t think it was possible to love you more than i already did.” his thumb gently strokes your cheek, and he gazes at you with a mix of awe and appreciation. “but seeing you pregnant with our baby, watching you go through everything you did—physically and mentally—it just... changed everything for me.”

you feel a lump form in your throat as his words sink in, the sincerity and raw emotion in his voice making your chest tighten with warmth.

“i don’t think you truly understand how incredible you are,” baekhyun says, his brown eyes locked onto yours with unwavering intensity. “you endured so much to bring our baby into the world. i saw every moment—the pain, the struggle—but you were so strong. you did it all so well, and i’ll forever be indebted to you for that.

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, but it’s more than just a kiss—it’s full of gratitude, admiration, and love.

“and now… seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist, tracing the beautiful curves of your post-pregnancy body, “you’re even more beautiful to me. so much more. every part of you.” his eyes roam your figure, and there’s nothing but love and desire in his gaze.

baekhyun’s acknowledgment of your strength, of everything you endured, fills you with a deep sense of gratitude and relief. his touch, gentle and meek, tracing the parts of you that you’ve been insecure about, feels like a silent reassurance that you are enough—more than enough. his love feels like a weight lifting off your shoulders, and you couldn’t be more at ease

your heart swells with emotion, and his kiss, filled with gratitude and love. his confession was the tipping point, breaking down the walls you had built around your insecurities.

“thank you for loving me the way you do, baek,” you whisper, cupping his face as your noses brush together, savoring the warmth of each other’s presence and inhaling the scent that feels like home. “how did i get so lucky?”

“i could say the same about you, my love,” he murmurs between gentle kisses that he scatters across your cheeks and forehead, each one a soft reminder of his unwavering devotion.

he holds you gently yet firmly against his chest, your heart racing with excitement, filled with butterflies. each flutter reminds you of the deep love that grows stronger between you both.

“oh, and i meant every word i said earlier, by the way,” baekhyun’s voice breaks the comfortable silence, soft yet serious. “every word. i want more of this with you—more of us. i can picture it: a whole litter of mini versions of us running around.”

a smile tugs at your lips, your heart swelling at the thought of a future filled with love and chaos. “yeah, yeah. we’ll see,” you tease, fingers threading through his soft, dark hair, enjoying the way it curls around your hand.

“awww, come on, wouldn’t it be great?” he continues, eyes sparkling with mischief. “there’d never be a dull moment! and i want them all close in age," he adds, his excitement bubbling over without pause—like he’s the one who’s going to be pushing out watermelon-sized humans. "they’ll be running around, constantly yelling, ‘mommy, mommy, mommy!’ nonstop. 24/7, 365 days a year. sounds fun, right?"

you snort, rolling your eyes. “the only thing that makes me want to do is call up my obgyn and schedule a total hysterectomy, baekhyun.” his laughter is contagious, and you can’t help but grin. “i can already feel my hair graying just thinking about it.”

“fine,” he sighs dramatically, feigning defeat. “just four more, then.”

“FOUR?!” you exclaim, eyes wide, utterly incredulous.

he looks at you like a child trying to convince his parents to buy him a toy, except instead of a video game, it’s a whole team of children. “well, with the one we already have, we’d just need four more to form our very own basketball team.”

“byun baekhyun, do you even hear yourself right now?”

he presses his lips together, mock seriousness creasing his brow as if in deep contemplation. “...three?”

“what the hell? no, baekhyun,” you deadpan.

he chuckles, his toned arms wrapping around you, feeling like home as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. "oh, you won’t be able to resist me," he murmurs against your mouth, playful yet intense. the twinkle in his eyes makes it clear that he’s already decided, and deep down, you know he’s not letting go of this dream anytime soon—if ever.

and as he holds you close, still connected, you know that no matter what the future holds, he’ll always love you exactly as you are—beautiful, strong, and undeniably his.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 a/n: as a leading member of the milfy trophy wife™ committee, i felt this request in my soul. this one really hit home for me, nonnie!!!!! :') i hope i did it justice for you <3 also, i think i’ll turn this into a series—little drabbles and such with dilf!baekhyun/husband!baekhyun hehe 🙂‍↕️ oh, and p.s., i’ll be updating the layout for all my fics to match this one! :") i just think it’ll be so pretty to have everything match hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this one! <3

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Morning After

(A Sequel to Ace in the Hole)

A commission from the lovely @spoczkot :)

Cw: miscommunication, insecurity, gambling, oral sex, vaginal sex, tentacles, double penetration, sensory deprivation

male shadow monster x afab reader

Some beautiful art of our lovely shadow monster

Word count: 5k

Most days, you woke up suddenly, to an alarm or a nagging feeling that there was something you needed to do. 

You absolutely hated it. The sudden shift from sleep to the waking world. It always left you feeling anxious and restless. 

The best way to wake up in the morning was the was you were waking up now. Slowly, barely able to tell where your dreams ended and where the light, silky blankets began. You drifted slowly, softly, back into consciousness, and finally, when you were good and ready, you opened your eyes.

All you could see was black. 

You blinked, confused and disoriented, half convinced you’d just forgotten to open your eyes. 

When the darkness persisted, a spike of panic ran through you. 

You wanted to reel backwards but you didn’t know where you were or what was blocking out your vision. 

You felt a warm presence at your side and pulled away from it, sending yourself tumbling off the edge of the unfamiliar bed. 

The bed. You could see it now, sprawled across the floor, tangled up in a blanket you’d ungraciously taken with you in your panicked frenzy.

A low voice grumbled from the bed, you presumed disturbed by the newfound lack of blankets and the sound of someone falling to the floor beside him. 

You managed a sheepish smile as you gathered your bearings, the events of the night before surfacing in your mind. 

You were here, with Nocturne. 

A pitch-black face peeked over the edge of the bed as he rose from sleep more gracefully than you had. 

“You having fun down there?” he asked, his morning voice a little gravelly.

You nodded, pushing his blankets back onto the bed as you clambered to your feet. 

“Didn’t take you for that much of a clutz,” he said, a teasing lilt ever-present in his voice.

You smiled, sliding back under the covers. “I’m not really, I just don’t usually wake up blind. I feel like that’s excusable.”

He was so hard to read, his void of a presence difficult to gather coherent facial expressions from if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but you saw him tense for a moment before turning to the clock at his bedside. 

“Fuck, I’m late.”

He rose from the bed in a hurry, haphazardly grabbing clothes from his closet and throwing them on, you all but forgotten in his bed. 

You took the hint, rising beside him to grab your own things, admittedly in less of a hurry to leave than he seemed to be. 

He paused, shifting to look over his shoulder to look at you as you gathered your things, pulling your clothes on quickly. 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to leave. You can stay as long as you want.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t actually want you in his apartment on your own, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, that he was at least being as gracious as he could.

You waved him off, working quickly towards making yourself scarce despite the feeling inside your chest tugging at you, pleading with you to stay. 

But you didn’t want to stay, not really. Not with him gone.  

Upon seeing that you were set on leaving he slowed, his frenzy calming seemingly to ensure he could leave with you. 

It was a considerate gesture yet still it pulled a thread of guilt tight inside you, at inconveniencing him, holding him back from whatever he had to do. 

You left at the same time, him being a perfect gentleman for you all the while, holding the door open for you and giving you a gracious nod as he headed on his way.

You spent most of your day debating whether or not you should show up at the casino that night. Would it look desperate? It probably would but to be honest, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Would he want you there? 

When you got particularly nervous you couldn’t help but imagine him turning you away, deciding he was done with you, or pretending not to know you at all. You weren’t sure which would hurt worse. 

But in the end, you couldn’t keep yourself away. It would take more self-control than you had on hand

You’d never been so nervous walking in before. It felt like everyone was looking at you. When you looked up, you saw Nocturne. His lack of features did nothing to disguise the fact he was staring at you. 

You settled at his table, and he dealt cards while looking straight at you, his face entirely unreadable. 

You had gotten no better at poker, despite his ‘lessons.’  In fact, you’d say you’d gotten much much worse. 

You lost all your chips incredibly fast, not pacing yourself like you normally did, far too frazzled for that. In about an hour, your entire budget meant for your next visit was gone. 

Part of you hoped maybe you’d be familiar enough with him soon that you wouldn’t need to come here every other week anymore. But maybe that was wishful thinking. 

Everything in you wanted to go get more chips so you could return to his table with an easy excuse but you were already running ahead of what you should have spent this week. 

So instead you waited, hoping he’d come up to you when his shift was done. 

And so you sat, with about two hours ahead of you, waiting for midnight to come and for him to get off work. 

You didn’t have much to do in the meantime. Normally you headed out as soon as you lost but part of you thought, or maybe just hoped, that he’d come talk to you. 

Even if nothing came of it, you couldn’t leave without at least talking to him. 

Not after last night. 

You were incredibly bad at looking busy, it seemed, stirring a drink you didn’t want halfheartedly as you waited. 

You tried not to feel too self-conscious. Other people were idling around you, you were far from the only loiterer, but you just felt like you were doing it wrong. 

As long as you didn’t look too out of place, you supposed it didn’t matter. 

And so there you sat, staring at the little whirlpool you’d formed in your drink as you waited, trying not to look up too much. You imagined it would only serve to make you look more nervous and flighty. 

This determination to keep your head down meant that when someone cleared their throat next to you, you almost jumped out of your skin. 

Your head jerked up to find a familiar, dark face.

He leaned back a little, looking almost sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to say I’m sorry about this morning. I thought maybe you could come over again and I could make it up to you?”

“More lessons?” You weren’t sure if you were more excited or nervous about this turn of events. 

What did he want? Just a repeat of last time? Probably. You set yourself on being grateful for it either way. 

“Whatever you’d like.” He reached out to take your hand before clearly thinking better of it, pulling back as you followed him out of the casino and back to a familiar apartment. 

The mood was decidedly different from the night before. 

He shuffled off towards the kitchen immediately, looking back at you standing near the door. 

“Come in,” he said, beckoning you forward. “What would you like?”

“What?”

He gestured back towards the kitchen. “To eat. I’m afraid I was a terribly rude host last night, I didn’t make you anything.”

You shook your head dismissively. “You weren’t rude.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you want.”

“You really don’t have to-” you tried to insist before he cut you off. 

“And yet I’m going to. You’re not going to decide anything, are you? That’s fine. Do you like pasta?”

You gave him a small nod and he immediately started pulling out pots and boxes and fresh ingredients faster than you could keep track of them.

You wanted to help but you didn’t know where to start. He moved so swiftly and fluidly through the kitchen that it felt like any attempt to assist would hinder him more than anything. 

You hesitantly moved to his side, asking a quiet, “What should I do?”

He gave you an amused glance. “Nothing. I’m making it for you, your job is just to sit back.”

You frowned, a crinkle forming between your brows. “I want to help.”

“You really don’t have to.” His voice was soft and low and you could feel your cheeks heat at the sound of it. 

“But I want to,” you said, giving him what you hoped was a winning smile. “Now what are we making?”

He let out a fond little sigh and then put you to work. It was not lost on you that he was giving you the easiest tasks but you didn’t mind, you were happy with the compromise, so long as you were being helpful. 

What made less sense to you than his insistence that you let him do most of the work was the way he made a point to stay away from you, keeping a careful distance as he moved gracefully about his tasks. Whenever you drew nearer to him he always found a convenient excuse to move to the other end of the kitchen. 

At one point you reached out to grab the handle of a pan at the exact time he did and he pulled back before your hands had a chance to meet, almost like he’d been burned. You couldn’t help but worry you’d done something to upset him and that was why he was keeping his distance. But then why would he invite you here?”

So you tested the waters, intentionally bumping into him a few times, trying to make it as casual as you could.

He seemed nervous about it more than anything, almost leaning away as you got close to him. 

You felt him go completely stiff as you brushed up next to him, your arms barely touching. 

“You should be more careful,” he said, and you pulled away, embarrassment coloring your face. 

But he hadn’t asked you to stop, he’d asked you to be more careful. Surely if he wanted you to stay away, he’d tell you as much. 

So you pressed on, brushing up against him on occasion, desperate to figure out what was clearly making him uncomfortable so you could fix it. 

The problem with touching him, which you wanted nothing more than to do, was it rendered you functionally useless. If you so much as bumped against him you were left grasping blindly for utensils and sticking your hands out in front of you to try desperately not to bump into anything. 

It made you feel like an idiot. When he had to grab your hand to avoid you smacking it right into the hot stove that you would’ve sworn was feet away, you sheepishly stepped back from him, determined to stop making a fool of yourself. 

But as soon as you both strayed far enough away from the stove you were back at his side, brushing against him again. 

Your hand shifted around, feeling for a spoon in the dark, refusing to move away from his side as he just stood there. He wasn’t pulling away for once, you weren’t about to ruin this. 

It wasn’t entirely unselfish. You wanted to touch him, you liked having him close. At least when he wasn’t desperately pulling away from you. 

You heard a low chuckle and then a voice right next to you said, “Open your mouth,” his words moving hot air over your neck. 

You did, patient and trusting, and were rewarded with a mouthful of warm food, delicious on your tongue.

“It’s amazing,” you declared, determined to show him how much you appreciated everything he was doing for you. 

“Good, I’m glad.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

And then he pulled away and color bloomed back into your vision, leaving you feeling more disoriented than when it had been black.

“So what did you get up to today?” you asked, leaning back against the cold marble of the countertops.  

He shrugged. “Nothing much, mainly just working.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d at least pretend to have a reason he’d rushed off this morning. 

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t really sure why he’d invited you over at all. You’d clearly misread the situation, at least some part of it. He didn’t want to be close to you, had lied to you. All the evidence felt overwhelming. You were being a fool. There was nothing to figure out, you were taking advantage of his hospitality. He didn’t want you here, of course that was why he was pulling away. What other reason would there be?

His head cocked to the side. “What did I say? You look like a kicked puppy.”

“No, it’s fine, I can take a hint. I really didn’t mean to impose, now or this morning.”

He froze. “Oh my god, I forgot. This morning I was… I… No, you caught me, it was an excuse.”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Right, understood. I should go.”

He reached out to grab you and then stopped, pulling back again. “Don’t go,” he settled for instead, sighing out the words with both of his hands firmly at his sides. 

You shook your head. “I really don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not. It wasn’t an excuse for me.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t… I just wanted to give you an out.”

“An out? You were the one who left, you said I could stay.”

He sighed. “Not from my apartment, from me.”

You flinched back. “I get it, I understand not wanting some stranger to stick around, I promise in the future you can just tell me that. You didn’t have to lie.”

He groaned. “No, it’s not like that. I like you, I really do. You’re sweet. I thought you’d stick around just to be kind, I didn’t want to make you think you had to stay just because we slept together.”

You started to laugh as soon as he got the words out, unable to control the instinct. He stared at you in clear confusion until you managed to force out the words between giggles. “I was thinking the same thing about you. You know, I was trying so hard to be casual, I guess I fooled you a bit too well. Why would you think I wanted to leave anyway? I was clearly crazy about you. I was there constantly fawning over you and you thought I wanted to leave?”

“It’s not that crazy. I saw how scared you were when you woke up. I know I’m not exactly a convenient person to be around. Plenty of people are attracted to me, sure, it’s cool and sexy to be stuck in the dark like that, but it’s not something people want forever. People try blindfolds on for a fun, kinky night, they don’t do it every day. You can’t hold hands with me on walks, would have to avoid touching me if you wanted to do basically anything. I’ve been here before, the novelty wears off fast and I get left behind with it. Figured it was good to give you an out. And sometimes, maybe, it’s a little easier to leave first. Hurts less that way.”

You froze for a moment, unsure what to say. You leaned forward a bit, half intent on hugging him but as you watched him tense up once again, you leaned back into the counter. 

“You know,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I had the biggest crush on you for ages. It wasn’t just about your quick fingers and card tricks, although I have to admit, they didn’t hurt,” you said with a smile. “I first came there, to see you, because my friend said you were sweet. She said you made sure she felt safe there, that you kept a guy who was bothering her away. But more than that, you made her laugh afterwards, cheered her up. I had no idea how right she was. You always paid attention to me, made me laugh the whole time I lost, and let me hang around after.  At first, I thought it was some sort of tactic, a way to get better tips, and I didn’t mind. But you never really seemed to pay that much attention to anyone else and I thought that it was awfully considerate of you to at the very least make sure I didn’t see when you did, to try and make me feel special, because surely that was all it could be. And even that gave me butterflies. You were so sweet and funny, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. So when you decided to take me home last night I was so excited not because it was some fun fantasy, but because it was you, and because you wanted me. You’re not a blindfold, you’re a person. And I can get gloves for walks or you can help guide me or.. I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to think about it, but I’m sure we could figure something out. If you wanted to, that is, I don’t…”

And then his mouth was on yours and the words you’d been saying faded away entirely.

His hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you close, as he pulled you with him, slowly and steadily leading you somewhere, your mouths never parting. 

The two of you fell back onto the couch and you didn’t even flinch at the movement. You trusted him, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

In the position you’d fallen into, you were on top of him, pinning him to the back of the couch. 

He didn’t seem to mind, two of his tendrils snaking around your hips to pull you even closer, his hips just barely bucking up, begging for friction. 

You gave it to him, grinding down on him as his tongue grazed the seam of your lips and you opened them to allow him inside. 

He deepened the kiss eagerly, thumb stroking your cheek gently, sinking back into the couch to bring you further over him. 

And then you smelled burning. 

You pulled away from the kiss, trying to look towards the kitchen before realizing that you couldn’t. 

He rose to try and meet your lips once more, tendrils trying to pull you back towards him. 

You resisted the urge to give in to him, instead muttering a quiet, “Do you smell that?”

He flew off the couch and was in the kitchen in a second, taking the delicious food that had been basically finished and that you’d barely gotten a taste of off the stove. 

He took a quick peek inside and you could tell in an instant that it was ruined as he dropped it into the sink with a sigh.

His hands rose to cover his face as he looked back at you, sitting disheveled on the couch and you swore if he were human, he’d be a bright red right now. 

“I just wanted to make you dinner, oh my god,” he said, his voice muffled by his palms. “Some date this is.”

You perked up instantly. “This is a date?”

His fingers shifted open so he could look at you. “Maybe. If that’s alright with you.”

A delighted laugh escaped you, unbidden, before you were throwing yourself at him again, lips crashing together as you pulled his hands away from his face. 

He took it in stride, hoisting you up onto the counter, which pulled a surprised little squeak from you.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down impatiently. You lifted yourself a little on the counter to allow him to pull them down, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh as he did.

“At last one of us should get to eat,” he muttered, nipping playfully at your thigh as you giggled, hands falling to tangle themselves in his hair. 

It really was a shame, you decided, that you couldn’t admire him like this, between your thighs. 

You whined out a quiet “please,” and he buried his face in your core in an instant, wasting no time and mercifully, making you beg no further. 

He ate you out like a man starved, hands firmly pressed into your hips, holding you close, keeping you unmoving as you tried to buck into his face. 

His tongue was longer than that of any man you’d been with before, snaking inside you before withdrawing so he could suck on your clit dutifully once more. 

He didn’t so much as come up to breathe, lapping relentlessly at you. You were sure most of his face was covered with your wetness at this point and he couldn’t seem to care less. 

You came like that, on his counter, his mouth working you over tirelessly. 

Your back arched, shifting into him even further, practically fucking his face as you came. 

Even as you came down from your orgasm he didn’t stop, tongue pressing deep inside of you as you let out whines of overstimulation. 

You tugged him back by the hair and didn’t need your vision to be able to imagine the smug little self-satisfied look that was plastered across his face, You’d seen it more than enough times. 

You shifted to move off the counter and his hands met your hips, pulling you off and making sure your feet reached the floor safely. 

You smiled at him as he led you back towards the couch and you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“My turn,” you said, leaning down before a tendril wrapped around your chin and pulled you back up. 

“No, stay up here with me.”

You gave him a teasing grin. “Come on. I mean, you were supposed to feed me.

His grip on you remained unrelenting. “Please. I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice softer.

Who were you to deny him that?

Nimble fingers moved down, gentle and careful with you as they pushed inside you, and his lips met yours once more. 

He tasted of you, a little sweet, moans escaping him as you licked into his mouth, desperate to feel more of him.  

His fingers pulled out of you soon after he’d begun touching you and you couldn’t help but whine in displeasure.

Almost instantly his fingers were replaced by something thicker. He held tight to you as he pressed inside, slowly, until your hips met. 

The tendril inside you now, the one that sat right between his legs, refused to stay still, squirming around in your tight heat, pressing against you perfectly, your back arching up at the movements. 

He buried his head in your neck, his hands and tendrils alike keeping you close to him, as close together as two beings could be. 

“God, you feel so good, so good for me. My perfect girl.”

Your hips bucked up, try to get movement, to get more. 

He pressed soft kisses across your face as you hurtled towards a second orgasm, approaching much faster than the first. You were too far gone to kiss him back properly but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Everything was messy and disorienting and you couldn’t be more content in it all, gripping onto him, wanting everything he’d give you as long as he’d stay close like this. 

You were more than happy to let him do the work, to surrender to the sensations

As his hand absentmindedly stroked your lips, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, you took his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully, wanting as much of him as you could get. 

“If you wanted your mouth filled so badly you can have it, you just have to ask nicely. 

You let out a pleading noise. Talking felt impossibly hard, your thoughts moving slowly but desperately towards things that felt much more important than words, reaching for him again. 

In a moment, that was no longer an issue, a thick tentacle entering your waiting mouth, pressing down gently on your tongue, almost caressing as your mouth hung open. 

You came a second time like that, with one of his tendrils in your mouth as he thrusted in a steady rhythm inside of you. 

It was less slow and soft than the last one, hitting you suddenly and quickly, leaving you with nothing to do but hold onto him. You let out a cry and gripped him hard enough to leave bruises on any human as he fucked you through it.

The tendril currently in your mouth squirmed and you could practically feel him trying to keep it from pushing further inside, 

You moaned around it, unable to do much more than that as he thrusted hard and unforgiving into you, the rocking of his hips moving you in time with him. 

His arms held you as more and more of his tendrils snaked across your body, wanting to touch as much of you as they could, endlessly greedy. 

He grunted out the word “close” and as soon as he did, your mouth was suddenly empty again before impatient lips pressed against yours. You swallowed down his moans as he came inside you. His grip on your hips remained tight and you thought it just might leave marks. You hoped it would, wishing you could leave any on him in return. 

He pulled out of you with a little hiss and moved to walk away before your hand swiftly reached out, pulling him back toward you as quickly as you could. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said as you tugged him into a tight embrace. 

He chuckled. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I should clean us up.”

You leaned back into the couch with a huff before suddenly and without warning, you were being lifted. 

You sunk into his embrace, more than happy to be carried around. The sound of a tap turning on came from beside you but you ignored it, leaning into Nocturne’s chest. 

And then, unceremoniously, you were dropped onto a familiar, soft bed. 

Your vision returned for barely a moment before it was gone again, a warm cloth being stroked across your skin as he sunk into bed beside you, quietly cleaning both of you off as you snuggled into the covers. 

He tugged at your shirt and only now did you realize it was still on. It had been all but forgotten during sex but now he pulled it off indignantly, like it was a barrier too much. Like he needed to be able to touch you. He pulled it off with a little of your help, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor and burying his head in your neck. 

“No running off tomorrow morning, right?” you asked as your fingers carded through his hair. 

“Of course not,” he said, his breath tickling your skin as he spoke. “I think I owe you breakfast.”

You gave a content little hum, hoping breakfast tomorrow was at least a little more successful than dinner had been. 

Or maybe, upon reflection, you wouldn’t completely mind a repeat of tonight.

But then, you wouldn’t mind a cozy breakfast either. Wouldn’t mind eating across from him, not touching for a while so you could have the time to admire him. Wouldn’t mind eating in the dark so you could lean against him as you ate. 

No, you thought. You wouldn’t mind any of it. 

His tendrils snaked around your arms and waist to hold you close, all but trapping you against him, pulling you into a little cocoon of warmth as one grabbed the blankets and tucked them carefully around you. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss into the closest one. 

He let out a quiet groan, the tendril reaching to caress your face. 

Amidst the nest of tendrils you found yourselves cuddling inside of, you felt his hand reach for yours, your fingers entwining with his. 

“Next time,” he muttered, “I’m going to make you the best dinner you’ve ever eaten, mark my words.”

You felt your heart swell, holding him tighter as he spoke. 

Next time.

[viagracex]

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore. 

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

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

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response  " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

[meazalykov]

overstimulated

lea schüller x adhd!anxiety!reader

summary: it might feel like the world is ending for you, but lea is there is help.

warnings: tiny angst, the "downsides" to adhd!!, mentions of medicine, anxiety, I hope you enjoy.

it’s game day, and you’re a tangled mess of thoughts before the alarm even goes off. the energy of your mind that courses through you every morning feels magnified today, like your brain can’t decide if it’s excited or terrified. 

the champions league second leg against arsenal in london. a big match, sure, but after last month’s win, it should feel lighter, easier.

yet, your chest feels tight, your mind replaying every mistake you could possibly make, every way you might fall short. 

your foot taps against the floor as you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at your packed kit bag in the hotel room, unable to remember if you double checked the contents. 

you should feel confident. that first leg game was your best game in months. a goal and three assists.. people were raving about you, calling you a maestro. even your teammates had hugged you extra tight after the final whistle. 

yet, instead of holding onto that joy, your brain latched onto the thought that today won’t be the same. maybe you’ve peaked. maybe that was your limit. maybe today, you’ll mess up so badly that everyone will see through you, see how different you’ve always been.

lea stirs beside you, her sleepy voice pulling you out of your spiral. 

“baby, you’re tapping.” her hand reaches for yours, warm and grounding, wrapping around your restless fingers. 

“what’s going on?” 

you glance at her, your beautiful girlfriend, her soft blonde hair sticking up in places from sleep. she’s everything you wish you could see in yourself..kind, patient, steady. you hesitate, feeling a lump rise in your throat. 

how do you explain that it’s not just the game, not just the usual pre-match nerves? it’s the way your adhd always seems to betray you, even now, even after years of managing it. 

“just... thinking about the match,” you mumble, not meeting her eyes. 

lea’s not fooled, of course. she sits up, resting her chin on your shoulder, her voice soothing. 

“you have been amazing this season so far, and you’ll be amazing today. i know you feel a lot, but you’re not alone in this, okay?”

the blonde’s words should comfort you, and they do, a little. however, there’s that nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering that you’re doing too much. too hyper when you’re happy, too irritable when overstimulated, too anxious all the time.

even with medication, even with years of practice, there are moments where it feels like your adhd is this shadow you can’t shake, this weight you can’t stop carrying.

the morning drags on in a blur. breakfast is a struggle..you can’t focus on the food in front of you, too busy replaying different scenarios in your head. what if you misplace a pass? what if you lose your marker? what if arsenal turns this match into a nightmare? 

lea’s presence helps, her gentle reminders to eat, to breathe, to focus on the present. she kisses your temple before you leave for the stadium, her lips lingering like she’s pouring all her love into you. 

“you’ve got this,” she says, her voice firm and full of belief. 

“no matter what happens, i’m so proud of you.”

on the bus to the stadium, you sit quietly, headphones on but not really listening to the music. your teammates chatter around you, relaxed and confident. you wish you could feel that way, but your heart races as the bus pulls closer. you zone out, daydreaming about the many scenarios that could take place today. 

stepping off the bus, the noise from outside grows, the chants echoing in your chest. you keep your head down, clutching your bag tightly as you follow the others inside. the locker room is its own storm of energy…laughter, shouts, the clatter of cleats on the floor. 

it’s a lot. you’re a lot. or at least, that’s how it feels. you try to center yourself, focusing on the routine: tape your wrists, lace your boots, warm up. the yelling in your head doesn’t stop, your thoughts racing faster with every passing second.

when warmups start, you feel the weight of the stadium’s gaze. every pass, every touch of the ball feels scrutinized, even though it’s just practice. you can hear the fans chanting, cheering, and it’s both exhilarating and overwhelming. 

your heart pounds, the familiar ache of doubt creeping in. the last game against arsenal feels like a distant memory now, like it happened to someone else entirely. you’re not sure if you’re ready for this.  

you catch lea’s eye from where she’s sitting on the bench, her hands cupped around her mouth as she shouts something you can’t quite make out. however, her smile…it’s the same soft, steady smile she always gives you, the one that says she sees you, really sees you, and loves you anyway. 

it’s the only thing that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay.

well, 

you were not. 

the second half started much like the first…fast-paced, intense, and frustratingly scoreless. you were holding your own defensively, shutting down arsenal’s dangerous counters from players like beth and emily, but the anxiety bubbling in your chest wouldn’t settle. 

the bayern teammates of yours were playing well, yet it wasn’t enough to quiet the chaos in your head. the noise from the crowd, the shouts from the sidelines, even the sharp sound of cleats striking the ball…it all felt amplified, like the world was pressing down on you slowly and with torture. 

your adhd had been a constant companion for as long as you could remember, but today, it felt like it was running the show. every sound, every movement on the pitch seemed to pull at your focus, scattering your thoughts like a broken puzzle. 

one moment you were tracking arsenal’s number nine, the next your mind was stuck replaying a missed pass from ten minutes ago. even when you tried to shake it off, the nagging voice in your head wouldn’t stop: 

what if i am not good enough? what if this match proves it?

you tightened your jaw, forcing yourself to stay in the game. your body felt overstimulated, like your nerves were on high alert. the fabric of your jersey clung uncomfortably to your skin, the sweat dripping down your face stinging your eyes. 

it wasn’t just the physical discomfort; it was the weight of your own thoughts. they moved too fast, too loud, colliding in a whirlwind you couldn’t control. 

why can’t i just focus? why can’t i just be normal?

then came the clash with katie. it was the 80th minute, and arsenal had just launched another attack. you’d been frustrated all game, and katie had been particularly aggressive. 

when you collided mid-sprint, her shoulder digging into yours, it felt like a spark hitting dry kindling. the shove she gave you wasn’t unexpected..katie was known for her temper among the community. 

however, your reaction was. without thinking, you shoved her back, harder than you meant to. the force sent her stumbling, nearly to the ground.

the whistle blew sharp and loud, cutting through the noise of the game. suddenly, players from both teams surrounded you, their voices rising in protest. your heart pounded as you tried to explain yourself, but your words came out tangled. 

you weren’t like this. you were one of the the sweet ones, the calm one. this wasn’t you…but it was. your frustration, your overstimulation, your inability to control the buzzing chaos in your head,

it had boiled over. 

lea was there, her voice clear amidst the chaos. 

“hey! calm down!” she shouted, not just at the others but at you too. the blonde’s presence grounded you for a moment, but the panic was already setting in. your chest felt tight, your mind spinning faster than ever. you told yourself it would be fine, that things would calm down, but another part of your brain whispered the opposite. 

what if this ruins everything? what if they see me as a problem now?

the match ended 1-1, and relief washed over you, though it was fleeting. the whistle’s final blow signaled the end, but your thoughts refused to let go. 

you sank to the grass, pulling your knees up and burying your head in your hands. the world felt too big, too loud. your breath hitched as you fought back tears, your fingers curling into the blades of grass beneath you.

you felt someone’s hand on your back just a minute later..

klara knelt beside you, her voice soft. 

“hey, come on, let’s get inside.” her touch was gentle as she helped you up, guiding you toward the locker room. you didn’t resist, too drained to argue.

 once inside, away from the noise, you leaned against a wall, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you.

“don’t tell lea,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“please, just let her talk to obi or someone else. she doesn’t need to worry about me.” 

klara frowned, hesitating. 

“you know she’ll kill me if I don’t tell her that you’re not okay. you’re her whole world, y/n.”

you sighed, defeated. 

“fine. just… don’t make it a big deal.”

as if on cue, exactly one minute after klara left, lea jogged into the locker room, her eyes scanning until they landed on you. she rushed to your side, crouching in front of you. 

“what’s going on? klara said you weren’t okay.” her voice was soft, but her concern was clear.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and you hated it. you hated feeling this vulnerable, hated not knowing why you felt so out of control. 

“i don’t know,” you choked out. 

“lea i really do not know! my mind… it won’t stop. it’s like i can’t slow it down, and i hate it. i hate this.”

lea pulled you into her arms, her hold firm but soothing. 

“it’s okay, baby. let it out. i’m here. you’re safe. its just us right now.”

as you sobbed into her shoulder, a thought struck you like lightning. 

“did i even take my medicine this morning?” you asked aloud, your voice shaky. your stomach dropped as realization dawned. 

“fuck,” you muttered. “i left it in munich. lea, i’m so sorry. i’m such an idiot.”

she pulled back slightly, her hands cupping your face. 

“hey, stop. you’re not an idiot. it happens. we’ll get through this, okay? tomorrow we’ll be on the plane home, and you can take it then. tonight, you just need to rest.”

lea’s voice was like a balm, calming the storm in your mind. she pressed her forehead to yours, her thumbs brushing away your tears. 

“you’re not alone in this. i’ve got you.”

she kissed the top of your forehead, as if to kiss the chaos in your mind away. your thoughts were cooling down, not so much as you tap your boot on the ground rapidly, but at least you had your lea– the woman who loved you regardless of yourself being ashamed for being neurodivergent. 

author's note: I kind of wrote this for myself as someone with both anxiety and adhd (and sometimes cannot tell the difference in my symptoms).

masterlist

[zombyjuice]

nights like this —- jj maybank. 🐶🪽🌸☀️

when jj has a crush on a kook but not just any kook.

season one jj i miss you. smut smut smut smut.

i haven’t written in so long wth !

playlist

—————————————————————————

“Mom! That's not fair; Kie gets to stay up all night with those boys, but I can’t have a simple sleepover with my friend." You huff, closing the refrigerator door. "Y/N I will figure that out later. That has nothing to do with this; remember you're grounded." You roll your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that’s ridiculous mom, so what? I brought in a stray cat...”

“and dog, bird, oh yeah, and a SPIDER too, you know I’m scared of those,” she frowns and lowers her tone at the end; you stifle a laugh. “Also that piercing.” Your smile fades away quickly. “It’s a nose piercing! Be glad I didn’t get the lip ... yet. Your mom coughs on her water a bit and slaps your head. “Go. Go!” 

“gladly” throwing your hands in the air and rushing to leave the house bumping into no other than kiera “your introublee” you push past her and she huffs getting prepared for her mothers nagging voice.

You and Kie are twins yet almost nothing alike. Kie is the “stronger one.” She’s louder and more outspoken than you, more chaotic, and not as friendly but caring and kind just like you. You’ve always been a calm, peaceful, gentle soul, bubbly and sweet, feeling everything to the core and loving deeply and strongly, quick to stand up for your friend and not yourself, but as you grow, you find your voice more and more. You both have a little bit of each other.

jj had a thing for kie, but it was more like he had a thing for a lot of girls and especially you, well, mostly you. He tried not to since, unlike Kie, you hung out with the Kooks, and to them, it seemed like the kook year Kie experienced, you got stuck in, and, well, we know how JJ feels about the Kooks, but gosh … he couldn’t help it.

He noticed things about you that typically other people would point out as weird, at least to the people of Outer Banks, but JJ would say it’s different, a breath of fresh air even. You had pretty, dyed, curly hair and somewhat fair skin that’s always sun-kissed and the prettiest makeup that made your puppy eyes pop, and he noticed the way each piece of jewelry or how you did your makeup was an expression of you on the inside and matched or complimented you perfectly, almost like everything you wore was meant and made particularly for you; he noticed how everything depicted a phase in your life, whether good or bad, and he noticed you even had a palette: teals, greens, yellows, and what suited you the most, pink. You had different pieces of clothes; he could tell you didn’t shop where the rest of the kooks shopped, and he loved your staple piece, your short shorts, and everything hugged you so well. to say the least, he noticed things he had never noticed in anybody. He became so detail-oriented, and he couldn’t understand why he noticed everything about your beautiful, soft soul. 

“Oh, J, hey, you smile softly, waving at no other than JJ. “Hey, princess, still too cool for us?” He smiles smugly, taking his hat off. “Pft, shut up. What are you doing here?” You eye him while you continue to walk, him following closely behind. “Yeah, you know, I just came to drop off your sister, fulfilling my duties as soon-to-be boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrow at this and stop in your tracks, causing him to bump into you as well. “Damn—” 

“You? and Kiara? I thought she had, like, a thing for John B." You say, questioning his intentions, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno... Why do you care?" He rolls his eyes as if he won an argument you guys aren't even having; you chuckle and continue to walk with him at your side. “I don’t care! I’m just asking a question on the topic; I can’t ask a question? about my sister?” You nudge at his shoulder, and he smirks, staring down at you. “Yeah, whatever, princess.”

“so where are we going?” “i’m going away from you asshole.”

—-

“Hey Dad, hey Mom, where’s Kie?” You sigh, putting everything on the counters and going to give them kisses on the cheek. “In her room getting ready… She’s punished, and she has to bring you to hang out with those pogues.” You cringe. “Wow, what a great punishment! and Pogue's mom, really, what a dumb name. That’s just so dumb it makes me mad." You say quickly, making your mom chuckle, “Yeah, yeah.” 

You didn't mind this happening more often, and you're open to hanging out with anybody you like, Kie's friends, especially JJ. It's like you're a part of them but just not all the way, not willing to give up your friendships with certain people over a dumb name.

You make your way up the stairs and into your room, making sure to shout a quick “Hurry up!” to Kie in the process. In your room, you try and get yourself a little dolled up. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s for JJ. You wanted weird things when it came to him, like you wanted him to think you’re pretty or… take off your clothes, but that’s a different story. 

You found everything JJ did so interesting, and you always wanted to get to know him more, but more than ever, you felt connected with him, like he was a part of you. When you saw him, your heart softened, and you wanted to just kiss all his worries away. You could tell he was sad, but he brought light to whatever darkness he was around, just like you. 

You giggle thinking about his goofy antics and fix up your makeup and hair. putting it up and continuing everything else you put on a cute but comfy outfit with your favorite low-rise Converse with pink laces and spraying a perfume that smells almost of laundry detergent, your favorite smell.

and you leave and wait for Kie on the porch. As the door flung open, you start walking towards your bike and Kie in front of you. “Hey, uh, where are we going anyway?” and Kie looking strangely tense. smirks, “Keege time, baby.” She slaps on the bike and hops on.

You smile a bit and shrug. What happens, happens.

—-

You already know the drama that’s about to unfold, and maybe, just maybe, you're secretly excited. especially as a kook hanging out with her kook sister who’s hanging out with her Pogue friends.

“Okay, here we are; gimme your bike.” You gladly hand it over to her and start your walk to everyone. 

“Hey, is that Y/N?” John B ran up to you. “Wassup? Haven’t seen you in a while, dude. Come help; we’re just starting everything. C’mon, Kie!” 

You look behind him to see Pope waving and JJ stupidly saluting you; you try and hide your smile, making your way towards them. “Hey, Pope,” you say softly, giving him a hug. “Hi, Y/N, I’ve missed doing your work in class. You know you could really—” JJ lets out a loud sigh and throws his hat at Pope's head. “Dude! Leave me alone!” He grabs at his hat and throws it back, and you giggle. “Hi, asshole.” JJ looks up at you and puts his hat back on and stands up from the huge branch. “What’s up, princess?” he smiles smugly, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I like this top; he pinches at it, and it slaps back on top of your skin, strangely making you blush and your stomach turn just a bit. You swat his hand away. “I don’t care. "Don't touch me?” you say in a teasing voice; you made him laugh. “Can you shut up? stop talking?” He started down at you and shoved you playfully, letting a giggle out, then a shriek, when he threw you over his shoulder and started running towards the water. “JJ, I’m going to kill you!” 

“Can they stop flirting it’s disgusting.”

—-

As everyone started to pile up, the more looks started to notice you on the other side, including Sarah, who gives you a… strange look. You can tell what she wanted to say: ‘What are you doing there with them?’ but you ignore it, continuing to talk with Pope about stupid stuff. “Okay, so why did NASA switch from the water to the shitty space dude? There are aliens down there.” “Define an alien right now, Y/n.” 

—-

It got darker, and more people came and went, and you could sense something was about to go down with the way Topper came up to JJ. You turn around to say goodbye to some guest. You turn around again, and boom! Topper and JJ are pushing each other around, John B trying to get in the middle. “Shit... idiot.” 

You quickly stand up and rush to the area. John B. now taking a blow from Topper and another guy trying to shove JJ, “Hey… hey! Get off him! J, come on, stop it!” You grab him by the shoulder, and it took him a second, but he listens. Surprisingly, you dust him off and look up at him. worry and concern all over your face, “Don’t do that, JJ; you can get hurt or hurt someone else.” If it weren’t for the fight happening just right next to you, JJ would want to kiss you, but he had to ignore the butterflies and your loving look, and he had to watch John B and Topper fight, ready at any moment to jump in. You turn your attention to Sarah, who’s screaming her boyfriend's name, and it all happened so fast. JJ is over Topper with a gun to his head; your eyes widen. “how the hell does he have that?” “JJ, stop it!” “Can you check your psycho friend?” Sarah shouts at Kie, who’s now next to you, “Can you check your psycho boyfriend?” You shout back, “Yeah, he tried to drown him!” Kie screams, “JJ, let go of the gun!” 

—-

“So you mean to tell me you found a crash. went onto it. found a key. decides, "Hey, let us go to this random hotel the day after a hurricane," finds money! a gun! then finds out it is now a part of an open investigation! your dirty, sticky fingerprints all over the place! and THEN you bring out that same gun! around a whole bunch of kooks, JJ, are you kidding me? How dumb can you be?" You shove your face into your hands. "I really don't feel like being lectured right now. He was going to drown him, Y/N/N. What else could I have done?" You look at him with a straight face. “Literally anything else.” 

“Whatever, dude! It happened already. What do you want me to do? Hold on. Why do you even give a shit? 

It’s still dark out, and you're outside by the hammock, JJ sitting down on the ground and you standing in front of him. Everyone else went home, and John B is inside.

“I don’t know, JJ, maybe because I care about you.” Your tone softens. “That’s really stupid; you can get in a lot of trouble,” you say, looking down. He stands up and makes his way towards you, feeling the tensions rising already with each step. You look up. “You’re lucky you’re so likable; you would’ve been in juvie by now.” He smiles and looks down at you. “I’m likable?” His tone lowers, and that stupid smirk is on his face, his stare heavy and his pupils blown out. “Well, I’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re a part of this now, so it looks like we’re both going to have to be stupid.” 

“Yeah?” You look up; he couldn’t take those eyes you give him. “Yeahh…” He smirks and runs his hands through his fingers, seemingly getting ready to get serious. “I, uh, I’ve missed you, Y/n like a lot. I missed you coming by my house and, you know, helping me when, you know, my dad... Yeah, when I needed someone the most. no one has ever done that for me, so willingly and i don’t know, im not crazy right, cause man it feels like you barely know me but yet know everything and i just want to-”

And without thinking, you throw your arms around his shoulder and pull him into a soft yet passionate kiss, his arms grabbing at your hips, deepening the kiss, leaving you breathless with every pent-up emotion and tension, all in the kiss.

You pull back for a second, catching your breath, his pretty eyes scanning your face. “You okay?” He asks softly, “Yeah,” you say back, taking a moment, his eyes on yours, and you blush. “I really like you a lot,” his eyes and his heart soften, but there’s this feeling of fear as well. “Me too.” And he quickly puts his lips back on yours; this time the kiss is more rough, leaving you breathless. Grabbing at your thighs, he swiftly lifts you up and carries you toward The Chateau. and straight into John B's spare room, laying you down on the bed, continuing the rough kisses, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Mm, you're so pretty, princess. He lifts your leg up so it’s hanging by his side, and he slowly grinds his hips into yours; you let out a strangled moan into the kiss. “Shit.” 

The window was slightly open, so the cold breeze of the night filled the room's air, cooling you guys down as JJ filled you up to the brim, the moon's light shining just enough so he could see the pretty faces you make with each slow and long thrust. His head goes down to your neck while he whimpers so softly, fighting back the urge to say the three most beautiful words he could only show it as fucks any bad feeling out of you. "Fuck, baby, look at you." 

"What a mess." His thrusts started to become rougher yet still slow, the sound of his skin slapping yours, wet and juicy. You tried to keep quiet, but he fucked you so good you couldn't even think, "Mmph, I can't take it, JJ, too good." You let out with a squeak as he got rougher and rougher, grabbing at your face and kissing you nice and slow. It all was so passionate your heart fluttered with every movement. You could tell the love and care he put into everything; you felt seen; you felt loved. 

"Yeah, baby? You like that? Come on, be good for me, cum." 

You let out a series of the cutest moans he's ever heard. and he felt you make a mess all over his dick as he fucked into you faster. 

"Good girl, baby, good fucking girl," he moans as he pulls out and cums all over your stomach; you whimper, feeling shy. "Come here; do you want more?" He lifted your jaw up to look up at him and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You nodded, "Yeah? You want more?" His smile widened. "Come here." 

He turns around so you're on your stomach but still somewhat on your side; he wants to be able to hit every spot. "Fuck, you look so good; look at that ass, princess." He slaps your ass, not too hard but enough to get you red; you squeal. "Please, JJ, please," you cry, just dumb on his dick; that's all you want.

He doesn't say anything or warn you; he just starts to fuck into you hard and fast. causing a string of cries and moans, "Fuck, look at you. I love seeing you like this, baby."

It was sloppy, and he was quick, but the tempo slowed down, and he grabbed at your hips, slowly letting you bounce on his pretty dick, watching your ass giggle with each bounce, and slowly letting you start to do it on your own. Watching you struggle turned him on in ways he couldn't explain. "We're going to go all night, princess, all night." 

[zae-heeyyy]

Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you. 

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time. 

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him. 

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!" 

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then." 

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—" 

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented. 

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face. 

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."