#before you say anything about how he looks high i need you to know that that is Canon actually. like genuinely

[writesvani]

Dear Me | 03

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TWs (for this chapter): emotional distress, unresolved feelings, unspoken grief, jealousy, insecurity, avoidance, mentions of lost friendships, nostalgia, mild self-deprecation, strained relationships, anxiety, bittersweet memories

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M. LIST;

— previous chapter | next chapter (pending...)

wc: 3,4k // date: 25th of March

CHAPTER THREE — Saturdays are for Yoongi; happy reading my gummies...

AN (DON'T SKIP): this chapter was so much fun to write, and i genuinely hope you all love it as much as i do! starting now, my new update schedule is officially in motion, and with that comes my note goal: 200. yup, you heard me right, two hundred. am i being ambitious? maybe. am i manifesting? absolutely. but hey, dear me usually hits that, so let’s keep the streak alive!

and here’s the deal—once we hit that goal, chapter 4 will drop faster than y/n dodging her feelings. so, leave your comments, send me asks, scream in the tags—I’m dying to hear your thoughts!

also, yes, i know these first few chapters are on the shorter side, but they're just here to introduce you to the story and its dynamics! i promise, longer chapters are coming soon

— love, vani ♡

The best part of your week is Saturday. There’s something about it—a sense of idle calmness, as though the world has momentarily slowed down. It’s the one day where you can embrace doing absolutely nothing, soaking up your unproductivity like a ray of sunlight. Saturday is the calm before the storm of the week, and that’s why, despite your constant need for structure and routine, you let it unfold naturally.

It’s funny, really. The simplicity of having one messy, unplanned day brings an unexpected thrill. You find joy in the uncertainty of how the day will pass, how it’ll surprise you. It’s a break from the usual schedule, a breath of fresh air in the middle of your carefully organized life.

Yoongi sits across from you, his usual aura of coolness interrupted by his bizarrely slouched posture. His hair is a mess—tousled and looking as though he’s been trying to tame it all morning, but it stubbornly refuses to cooperate. In front of him sits a caramel latte, the steam curling lazily as he takes occasional sips, his eyes flicking between you and your phone.

“Damn, that looks good,” he says, his voice a low murmur, but his gaze is anything but casual. He’s practically staring at the picture on your phone like it’s holding the secrets of universe.

You smirk, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. “Mhm, that’s what I’m talking about,” you reply, practically grinning from ear to ear. The pride you feel is almost tangible as you show him the picture—a shot of the crème brûlée you recently made at work. It’s perfect, golden, and just begging to be devoured.

Yoongi’s eyes are wide, his expression a mix of admiration and hunger. “I’m not even gonna lie, I’d eat that straight off the screen if I could,” he admits, a little too eagerly.

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair. “Well, you can’t. But if you want, I’ll make you one next time.”

His face softens into a grin, and he leans forward, his hands wrapped around his latte like it’s his only lifeline. “Deal. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I think I do,” you say, the ease of afternoon gently swallowing you.

You lean back in your chair, tapping your fingers lightly on your cup, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips. “But seriously, Yoon, I could teach you how to cook. You might actually impress someone with your skills for once.”

He raises an eyebrow, the amusement in his eyes barely hiding his disbelief. “Me? Cook? Please, I can barely make instant ramen without setting off the smoke alarm.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "I remember the last time you tried cooking. The whole apartment smelled like burnt toast for days."

He slouches slightly in his chair, shoulders tensing as he glances away, a sheepish expression crossing his face. “Okay, that was one time. I may or may not have gotten distracted by my playlist. But I’m definitely not cut out for the kitchen.”

“You say that like you’ve given up entirely,” you tease, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. “Come on, hun. Everyone can cook if they try. Even you could pull off something other than cereal or microwaveable noodles.”

His hands wrap tighter around his latte, and he shrugs slightly, eyes flicking to the side as though he’s mentally weighing his options. “What’s the point? You’re the one with the magic touch. Every meal you make is basically a Michelin-starred dish.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling the pride swelling in your chest despite your modest shrug. “You’d be surprised.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair, his head tilting just slightly as he observes you. His lips curl into a small smirk, though there’s a hint of skepticism in his eyes. “Yeah, right. Last time I tried, I couldn’t even boil an egg without making it look like a science experiment gone wrong.”

Your eyes widen, and you nearly choke on your drink. “That’s because you didn’t even know the difference between boiling and frying! You can’t just throw an egg in a pan and hope for the best, dude.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning slightly forward as he feigns annoyance, but the playful gleam in his eyes betrays his true feelings. “Hey, I was improvising!” His lips curl into a mischievous grin. “It’s not my fault the egg didn’t cooperate with my vision.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the amused smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sure the egg was just terrified by your lack of culinary expertise.”

Yoongi’s posture stiffens as he glares at you, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward, giving him away. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m a cooking disaster. I’ll just leave the meals to you, Chef Extraordinaire.”

You sit up straighter, tilting your head slightly, the teasing glint never leaving your eyes. “Smart choice,” you reply, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “But, just so you know, next time I’m cooking, you’re the official taste tester. And trust me, you don’t want to disappoint me.”

He leans back again, hands resting on his lap as he stares at you with mock seriousness, though his lips are still twitching into a grin. “Challenge accepted,” he says, his tone a bit more dramatic than necessary. But you know he’s secretly terrified of the idea of cooking for himself.

A soft shift moves through the air, a gentle shift of calm that settles between you and Yoongi. Quietness. His fingers dance over the screen of his phone, tapping at the surface with practiced ease. You can guess he’s texting someone—maybe Nina, maybe a friend, maybe… Jungkook. The thought makes a knot tighten in your chest, but you push it away. It’s not something you want to think about right now. Instead, you pull out your own phone, your fingers flicking through the screen aimlessly.

Nothing exciting. Nothing new.

You let out a soft breath, your eyes drifting up to meet Yoongi’s. There’s a quiet comfort in the air now, the type that doesn’t feel awkward or forced. It’s the kind of silence that wraps around you like a blanket. The kind that settles into your bones, making your muscles relax and your fingers stretch out in a lazy ease. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes from familiarity, from knowing someone well enough that you can just be—no words needed.

The thought makes something soft bloom in your chest.

Yoongi’s presence brings a sense of grounding, like you’ve known him forever and there’s nothing that could change that. The fact that, despite everything, there’s still someone you can rely on, someone you can lean on when the world feels too heavy. It’s a rare comfort.

You haven’t seen him much lately. The demands of his job as a publisher, your own strict schedule—it’s hard to make time. Too hard for regular drinks or coffee, even calls. But somehow, there’s always that one day of the week that pulls you two back together, a day when the chaos of your lives fades just enough for you to enjoy each other’s company.

And that day is usually Sunday.

Maybe that’s why you love Sundays so much. The way everything slows down, the world becomes a little softer. The way Yoongi's presence feels like a breath of fresh air. It’s those moments, those quiet moments, that you cherish more than anything else.

You glance at him again. His eyes flick up to meet yours for a brief moment before he looks away, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You feel it, the shared understanding between you two. And in that second, you realize that, even though you can’t always be together, these Sundays are enough to keep you close. To remind you that, no matter what, you have this.

You have him.

But alas, the silence, unfortunately, can’t last forever. A small motion, a sound disrupts the calm, and you find yourself briefly flinching at the sharp ring of Yoongi’s phone. You blink, your attention drawn to the screen before you can stop yourself. It’s ringing, and without thinking, your eyes are already glued to the name flashing across it.

“Nin 🫶🏻,” it says.

Your throat tightens, a lump forming that you can’t swallow down. Of course, there’s nothing strange about Nina calling him—she’s his sister, after all. It has happened countless times in the years you’ve known the twins.

Nina has visited him more times than you can count, and you’ve met up with her, too, shared easy conversations and laughter like before. But this… this is different. This time, seeing her name on his screen feels like a punch to the gut.

It’s the first time you’ve seen it since that day—since the day you saw it written in beautiful, flowing cursive on that damn envelope sitting in your desk drawer (well, except the day you saw it tangled in your emails from the past you, but you're choosing to ignore that).

The one you’ve kept hidden, locked away.

The one that still reminds you of a friendship that’s lost.

A friendship with Jungkook that once meant everything but now feels like it belongs to another lifetime.

A friendship that has been broken, shattered beyond recognition.

That envelope, that name, that moment—it's a reminder of the bond between you and Jungkook, the one you once cherished, now reduced to something unrecognizable. And it stings. It always stings. The ache doesn’t go away, even though you try to heal it.

Desperately.

Eagerly.

You force yourself to move on, to pretend like you’ve moved past it, but the wound is still there. Still fresh, deep beneath the surface.

You inhale sharply, trying to mask the uneasiness threatening to bubble up inside you. You flash your teeth at Yoongi, offering him a soothing smile—one that feels more like a mask than anything genuine. You can feel the tightness in your chest, but you push it down.

"I gotta take this. I’ll be back," Yoongi says, his voice breaking through your thoughts. His movements are quick, almost hurried, as he stands and brings the phone to his ear.

You nod, though it feels like a distant gesture, your eyes still locked on his phone screen even as he turns to leave. The words “Heey” drift back to you just before he’s out of sight, and suddenly, the space between you and him feels much larger. Much emptier.

You’re left in the quiet once more, but this time, the stillness feels heavier. The silence is louder now, pressing down on you as the ache grows, gnawing at your chest.

You’re reminded again, in the simplest of ways, that you’re not the number one in Yoongi’s life. That place is always reserved for his sister, Nina. And though you know it’s natural, normal even, a small part of you can’t help but envy her—for being the priority in the lives of everyone you ever cared about the way you always wished you could be. It’s irrational, you know it is, but it still stings in the way that only silent truths can. The hurt lingers, no matter how much you try to reason with it. You push it down, bury it beneath the smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Yoongi’s footsteps return before you can fully process the pain, the familiar sound of his shoes brushing against the floor, and he moves past you with an energy that immediately pulls your attention. There’s an excited gleam in his eyes—bright, almost too bright for his usual self. It’s contagious, but you can’t quite bring yourself to smile the way he does.

He’s joyful. Too joyful for Yoongi. And it’s a little too much, but you lean forward instinctively, elbows planted on the table, your hands cradling your face.

“You won’t believe this,” he says, his voice light with excitement as he takes a sip of his latte, the warmth of the cup seeming to match his newfound energy.

You stare at him, curiosity piquing despite the heaviness in your chest. “What happened?”

“Nin and Kook are coming to town next week, to check the venues,” he continues, his words rushing out of him like a wave breaking against the shore.

And just like that, the names—Nin and Kook—splash over you like ice water. They burn, sharp and familiar. The names of people you loved, people who are no longer yours to love. The uneasiness quakes through you, a familiar sting at the back of your throat. You try not to let it show, though. You won’t let it show.

Yoongi keeps talking, trying to act oblivious to the weight his words carry. “And they want us to grab a coffee together when we’re free,” he adds, a casual air to his voice, as if the idea of sitting in a café with them—laughing, reminiscing about high school, pretending like everything is fine—doesn’t rip at the edges of your heart. It feels wrong, the thought of being in the same room as Jungkook again, when so much has changed, when so much has been lost.

You swallow, forcing yourself to sit up a little straighter, letting the fake calmness wash over you. “Really? How did that plan come to life?” you ask, your brow quirking in an exaggerated show of curiosity, anything to mask the storm bubbling inside you.

Yoongi shifts, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his gaze flitting between you and his empty cup. “Nina asked where I was… I told her I was grabbing coffee with you,” he rambles, his voice quieting slightly. “Then she mentioned that she and Kook were coming to town next week to check the venues. And, well, yeah, the rest is history.”

You nod slowly, trying to pretend that the mention of Jungkook doesn’t twist something deep inside you. The urge to respond, to say something that doesn’t betray the knot tightening in your gut, claws at you. But you just nod again, this time with a tight smile.

“Sounds… fun,” you manage, though the words feel foreign in your mouth.

“Could at least try sounding a bit more excited,” Yoongi says, giving you that look—the one that knows you too well. It’s the look that cuts straight through the act, the one that makes you feel like you’re not hiding anything at all. It’s funny, in a way, how he can pick up on your discomfort so quickly, but still, for all his sharpness, he never seemed to notice that you used to be in love with his sister’s fiancé. Or maybe, a small part of you wonders, he did know. And chose not to bring it up. Because acknowledging it would make it real, and if it was real, things would get messy. Yoongi would have to choose a side, and both of you knew exactly where his loyalty would lie.

You shift uncomfortably, forcing a smile, but it feels like the most unnatural thing in the world. “I am, I swear,” you say, but your fingers twitch against your cheeks, a small gesture as they trace the scar you’ve long since tried to forget.

Yoongi watches you closely, his gaze softening as he picks up on the subtle shift. “You don’t have to pretend for me,” he says quietly, almost too quietly. But the weight of it lands in your chest, sending a quick flutter through your heart. "I know this is gonna be a lil weird for you."

You blink, trying to clear the lump in your throat, but the words feel too heavy, too loaded. The silence lingers for a beat, thick and raw. Then Yoongi’s voice breaks through again, a little more careful this time.

“I mean, the four of us haven’t been in the same room together in years. I get it. I know you haven’t seen Kook in a while.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” you say, but your voice catches just slightly. “But it doesn’t make it weird...”

Yoongi tilts his head, the tiniest smirk curling on his lips. “You know, Nin says he mentions you a lot.” He leans back in his chair, watching you with those eyes that know too much, the ones that see past all the masks you wear.

Yoongi's words linger in the air, sinking in slowly, creeping up on wounds that you thought had healed. The fact that Jungkook still mentions you, still thinks about you—it shouldn’t sting this much, but it does. It really does.

Two years have passed since you last saw him, and the memory of that moment is sharper than you’d like to admit. The last time you sat down with Jungkook was after an awkward run-in outside his parents' house, where he invited you in for a drink. And it was… weird.

You both were strangers by then, with too much history between you to ignore, and yet not enough common ground to feel like you truly knew each other anymore. It was like trying to force something familiar into an unfamiliar shape. The conversation, stilted and uncomfortable, quickly drifted to small talk—safe topics about childhood and high school memories, things that kept the ground beneath your feet solid, even if it felt like you were both standing on shaky ground.

You blink, breaking out of the fog of that memory. Yoongi’s eyes are still on you, waiting for you to say something. Anything. You open your mouth, but the words falter, unsure of where they’re going. “Look, Yoon, okay, maybe…” You pause, trying to form the thoughts swirling in your head. “Maybe it’s a little weird because I haven’t talked to both of them in a while. But so what?” You shrug, trying to play it off, but the unease bubbling inside you is hard to ignore.

Yoongi tilts his head, studying you with that familiar, knowing gaze. “So what?” he echoes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re telling me you’re not worried about it?”

You don’t answer immediately, your fingers tapping lightly on the table as you try to steady yourself. The truth is, you’re not sure what you’re worried about. The past? The present? The strange space in between?

Yoongi's buzz slowly fades, and you can’t help but feel the weight of it. The joy that had been on his face when he finished that call, the spark in his eyes—it all starts to slip away, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve somehow extinguished it. He was so eager, so excited for the four of you to hang out again, and now, with all your overthinking and awkward thoughts about Jungkook and the thing that happened between you, you’ve managed to ruin it.

You glance at Yoongi now, watching him carefully, as if he’s trying to decode something that’s impossible to read. His eyes are focused on you, sharp and observant, like he’s piecing together a puzzle with every little shift in your expression.

Your eyelashes flutter, and instinctively, your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they feel dry, a little too dry. You take a sip of your coffee—cold, bitter, the taste of it almost mirroring the ache in your chest.

"I have nothing to worry about," you say, your voice a little softer than you intend. You scratch the back of your head. "I know that once we get past those first five minutes of awkward hell, it'll be like back in the days."

Yoongi shrugs, and a small, almost nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. "Yeah... like when we were young," he agrees, his voice carrying a bittersweet edge.

Your eyebrow quirks up, and you let out a short laugh, though it’s not entirely a pleasant one. "Dude, are you seriously quoting Adele right now?"

He looks at you, unbothered. "What? I’m just trying to lighten the mood."

"With a depression anthem?" you joke, the corners of your mouth lifting despite yourself.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Don’t kill my creative vibe, okay?"

You shake your head, but the tension loosens just a little. Maybe it’s stupid, but his attempt at humor, however ridiculous, makes things feel a little less heavy. The fact that Yoongi can still make you laugh, even in the middle of all this weirdness, is oddly comforting.

The conversation shifts, both of you silently agreeing to steer clear of Jungkook, Nina, and the storm their arrival will inevitably bring. No mention of wedding venues, no talk of Nina with a ring on her finger—the ring you haven’t even seen, don’t even know what it looks like.

And maybe that’s for the best.

So instead, you devote yourself to Yoongi again, clinging to the safe space he provides. You let him pull you into a discussion about a new book he’s reviewing, something he’s beta reading for a supposedly famous writer. Supposedly being the key word, because despite his insistence that they’re a big deal, you’ve never heard of them. Then again, maybe that just says more about you than it does about them—about the fact that you haven’t picked up modern fiction in a while, about how your shelves are still filled with books from a past version of yourself.

You laugh at his dramatic retelling of the plot, roll your eyes when he insists the main character is "literally the most annoying protagonist ever written," and for a while, it works. You manage to push the conversation from earlier to the back of your mind.

But not far enough.

Because the weight of it still lingers—heavy, unfiltered, sitting right there in your heart. And no matter how hard you try to ignore it, no matter how fast you try to outrun it, the truth remains.

It’s still there.

Just like Jungkook.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - You Get a Job as Their Assistant

A/N: I'm so turning this into a series 🦊

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

Your friend Lucas got you the job when you reconnected at your high school reunion. You were fresh out of college and although this wasn't exactly your dream job, it was a good opportunity until you could find something in your line of work. It was your first day and you couldn't have been more nervous. Your friend, who was a bodyguard for the boss, didn't say much about what the company did but the pay was more than generous so you accepted.

Jin

A lady from human resources showed you to your desk. You were at the topmost floor of the skyscraper and had to pass half a dozen security points before you reached your new job post.

"Here are all of your passwords," said the lady whose name you had sadly forgotten immediately after the introduction and handed you a sheet of paper. "You guard these with your life, you hear me? Best if you memorize them all and destroy this - don't just throw it anywhere," she warned and fixed her glasses. You nodded although you couldn't help but feel like it was all a bit excessive.

You sat down behind the large desk and signed into all of the programs listed on the sheet when suddenly a young man walked right past you and made for the office.

"Excuse me, you can't go in there," you said as you quickly jumped up and came around your desk.

The young man turned around and took in your presence. He measured your face and waited for you to look away but you were confident not to mess up your first day.

"Why not?" he asked politely. You were caught off guard for a moment by his good manners as you were prepared for nothing short of a heated argument.

His amused gaze shifted between your eyes as you collected your thoughts.

"You need to make an appointment first," you cleared your throat and stood your ground. A small smile crept into the handsome man's eyes as he watched you with an equal measure of interest as you him.

"Is Mr Kim in his office?" he asked almost quietly.

"No, he is not here at the moment but like I said, I can schedule an appointment," you restated politely with a small smile that refused to leave your lips under his warm brown eyes.

"Do you know when he will be in?"

"I don't but I can inquire if you wish," you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling like you're knocking it out of the park protecting your boss's office.

"That's okay," said the man softly as the corner of his lips curved into a small smile.

The elevator door slid open with a chime, making both of you turn around. The lady from HR rushed towards you.

"Mr Kim! I'm so sorry, I was going to speak to you about the new hire this morning but as your schedule changed-"

"It's alright, Margaret," said the man and realization hit you. Heat rushed up your neck and settled in your cheeks as your eyes grew wide and your mouth went dry.

"This is Mrs Y/N - she will be your assistant whilst Iseul is on maternity leave," said Margaret and gestured towards you.

"We've just met," said Mr Kim with a smile so warm it would have melted your heart if not for the absolute embarrassment you were suffering through. He offered you his hand and you shook it.

"I'm really sorry, Mr Kim," you said quickly as Margaret's gaze switched between the two of you in confusion.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Mrs Y/N," he said, his eyes smiling. "You were excellent. Very..." He measured you for a moment. "Confident."

You couldn't help but laugh as you felt anything but although his attempt at reassuring you helped. He smiled and you knew you were done for. Butterflies woke in your stomach and your heart felt as light as a feather.

Namjoon

It was a few minutes to eight when you walked into the company elevator. You felt good because the idea of being late on your first day of work had been stressing out you all night. The instructions sheet they gave you prior to your two-day training explicitly said in bold how Mr Kim valued punctuation and you were even going to be a few minutes early today.

You pressed the number of the executive floor and just as the door began to close, a hand caught it open. A tall young man joined you in the elevator. You offered him a smile when he entered and made some space. His eyes lingered on your smile for a moment as if it caught him off guard. His perfume filled the elevator although your fragrance had the same effect on him only moments ago. He looked at the elevator buttons but apparently you went to the same destination.

You wondered what he did in the executive floor. Maybe Mr Kim had two assistants and you would work together although that didn't seem likely given how elegantly this man was dressed and how he carried himself.

The elevator stopped halfway up and let in two more passengers: an older and a younger man.

"Ah, Mr Kim," greeted the older and made you freeze. "We've just taken care of the thing we discussed last night," he informed the man who was going to the executive floor with you. Your eyes fixed on the three figures beside you as you tried to make sense of it. You wanted to slap yourself for not googling what your boss looked like but you were sure he was an older man that you'd recognize as the CEO in an instant.

Mr Kim's gaze caught your eyes and you looked away immediately, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You looked ahead of yourself until the two passengers got off. The door closed and again it was just the two of you.

"You're Mr Kim Namjoon?" you asked him after a few moments. Your tone was polite and yet confident as you turned to your boss. He looked at you amused, interested and surprised at the same time although he hid those emotions as fast as he showed them.

"I am," he said, his quiet voice coming from deep within his chest.

"I'm Y/N L/N," you introduced yourself and offered him your hand in shake. "I'm your new assistant."

You could see something shift in his hard eyes although you couldn't tell what it was. He accepted your hand, losing it in his large one.

"I'm sorry for not recognizing you earlier," you said as your hands grew clammy holding your elegant bag. You were good at showing confidence even if in truth you were nervous or afraid.

"It's alright," said Mr Kim genuinely although his voice remained a deep rumble. There was only a few floors left to the top. "You came at a high recommendation from your boyfriend, Mrs Y/N."

You looked at your boss, your eyebrows raised and your body frozen.

"What boyfriend?" you blurted as your expression quickly turned into a frown. The amusement and interest returned to Mr Kim's eyes.

"Did Lucas say he is my boyfriend?" you asked in all confidence as the thought made you angry. You had your suspicions that he might have liked you but you didn't want a job offer where something was expected in turn other than friendship.

"Perhaps it's my mistake," said your boss, his quiet but powerful voice grounding you. A gentle smile gathered in his eyes.

"In any case, I am not dating anybody," you concluded calmly although no less proudly. You were sick of people, even your friends and family, telling you to find someone or try to belittle you for being single. You enjoyed being alone and you were done having others attribute your value on the basis of having or not having a boyfriend.

The elevator door opened and both of you waited for the other to exit first. When Mr Kim didn't move, you thanked him and exited although you could feel his eyes burn through your neck.

Yoongi

It was your first day at work and it's been a long time since you had been this nervous. If it were a job more closely related to your field of interest, you might have felt more confident. This was something you accepted just because the pay was excellent and there were no other opportunities presenting to you.

The HR had you in for a two-day preparation and made you learn a protocol sheet of conduct, your boss's habits and all of the dos and don'ts.

You've been at work for two hours already but the office was empty. You knew from his schedule that Mr Min was in a meeting on the other side of the city.

You looked up when the elevator door opened, revealing a gloomy and even formidable-looking young man. He walked with a purpose, deep in thought, and didn't pay you the slightest mind.

"Excuse me!" you said and jumped from your chair as you saw him march straight for the office. You weren't allowed to let anyone in without your boss's presence or explicit permission.

"Excuse me, you cannot go in there," you said and stepped in the man's path. He stopped although for a moment you thought he might just storm through you. He was someone who worked out because his frame was twice the size of yours; if he wanted to enter the office, there was really no realistic possibility of you stopping him. Still, your crossed your arms over your chest and refused to let go of the eye contact.

The young man's gaze shifted between your eyes. He was like a cat deciding whether to scratch you or grant you some of his attention.

"If you want to see Mr Min, you have to make an appointment first," you said more gently. His dark eyes studied you further until you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. For as much as you tried not to think about it, he was so handsome it made your heart flutter.

"But I'm Mr Min," he said slowly and calmly as ever as you grew aware of the small gap of space between you.

You stared at him, your eyes wide and your neck prickling with heat.

"But he's old," you blurted out loud and caused a smile in your boss's eyes. For some reason you had gotten it in your head that 'Mr Min' was an older man with graying hair and possibly a goatee.

"I'm not that old," he said slightly amused as if he did actually feel old despite his early thirties.

"But... You don't drink coffee?" you kept blurting out all the wrong things, the things you remembered from your protocol sheet. He narrowed his eyes at you no less amused. His hard, gloomy features were slowly melting and made your cheeks even redder.

"I drink coffee," said Mr Min. His voice was deep and rolled slowly.

You nodded, "But decaf and you prefer tea."

"I prefer tea now," he agreed. It was your turn to study him. His outfit, his watch and his shoes, the assured way in which he stood and spoke.

Your hands grew clammy as you smoothed down the sleeve of your elegant shirt. "I'm sorry," you began, feeling your heart rise to your throat. "I just had a... a different mental image of who my boss would be," you explained heavily and waited for him to fire you on your first day.

"I hope it changed for the better," said Mr Min, catching you off guard.

"Of course," you confirmed almost too quickly and he nodded. As he walked past you to his office, you remembered the protocol sheet again.

"Do you want some tea?"

He turned around and studied you. The smile spread from his eyes to his lips, waking up the butterflies in your stomach.

"Sure," he nodded and disappeared into his office. You shut your eyes because you knew you were done for.

Hoseok

It was your first day as the assistant in one of the most profitable companies in your area. You had barely made it to the office when the phone rang, asking coffee to be brought for your boss who was on his way. You grabbed your purse and the company card they gave you and went to the nearby cafe to grab a double-shot-of-espresso iced Americano.

"First day and already taking coffee breaks, huh?" asked a familiar voice when you returned to the company. You stopped on your tracks in the middle of the lobby and saw your friend Lucas.

"I'm just teasing you," he grinned when he saw the puzzled expression on your face. "How's it been so far?"

"Hi, sorry," you shook your head a little and smiled. "Good, they just showed me the programs and the technical stuff this morning, so..." You nodded.

"Good, great," Lucas nodded as well. "You look nice," he said and touched your shoulder before he left.

"Thanks," lingered on your lips as your face grew warm. You couldn't find the time to think twice about it, though, and hurried to the topmost floor.

You smoothed your skirt and fixed your shirt before you knocked on the door and waited for the invitation.

"Come in," said a voice absently. You entered the office, trying to keep as much confidence as you could.

"Good morning," you said politely. You almost stopped on your tracks when you saw a young man sitting behind your boss's desk although you quickly realized it was actually your boss. For some reason you had expected an older man, maybe in his fifties.

"I have your coffee, sir," you said as you set down his iced Americano. Mr Jung looked up from the documents that have been keeping his attention. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown as his eyes burned through you.

"Who hired you?" he asked and took you by surprise. You stared at him for a moment, you gaze shifting between his intense dark eyes.

"I... The human resources?" you spoke much less confidently as when you first entered the luxurious office.

Mr Jung stared at you, his frown only worsening.

"I was told your previous assistant is permanently indisposed," you tried although your intonation was still more that of a question rather than a statement.

Something shifted in Mr Jung's hard gaze. "Right," he said almost indifferently, then finally looked at you properly.

"Who are you?" he asked, not impolitely.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N, your new assistant," you introduced yourself and offered your hand. "If you'll have me." You tried to lift the mood some.

Mr Jung's gaze moved to your hand then back to your smile.

"Jung Hoseok," he said as he finally accepted your hand in shake. Mr Jung stood up behind his desk. "Lucas's recommendation," he thought out loud as he narrowed his eyes at you. The attention made fever gather up your neck and cheeks.

"Yes, sir," you confirmed although something about your boss intimidated you. You thought you were confident but he was so self-assured of his actions that it made you uneasy.

His eyes measured yours once again. "Thank you, Mrs Y/N."

"Of course," you gave a small nod and a smile before you turned on your heel and hid the feverish blush that colored your face on your way out.

Jimin

You sat down at your desk and watched your superior disappear in the elevator. A breath of relief escaped your lungs followed by an even greater anxiety. Your boss wasn't in yet according to the HR lady but you still needed to take phone calls and schedule meetings.

You smoothed the white cuff of the tailored shirt you had bought especially for your first day at this job. When they gave you the instructions, dress code was one of them. It's not that you usually didn't look put together, it's just that the position made you nervous as it involved an entire protocol sheet of rules and a good outfit always spiked your confidence.

The phone rang suddenly and you answered without thinking of what you were going to say.

"Mr Park's office," you said instinctively as your face flushed and you felt as if you had never had a conversation before in your life.

The person introduced herself. She was some businessman's assistant and wanted to schedule an appointment. You turned to the computer and checked your boss's schedule.

"How's Thursday-" you suggested when suddenly you noticed a young man in front of your desk. He wore a dark suit and a crisp white shirt. His hands were resting in his pockets as he studied you.

Your eyes grew wide as you forgot your words but the assistant on the other side agreed on Thursday. A small smile of amusement crept onto the man's lips. You finished the call and got up.

"I'm Y/N," you introduced yourself and offered your hand. "You must be Mr Park."

His gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he accepted your hand. "Nice to meet you, Mrs Y/N." The smile shifted from his lips to his eyes.

"Walk with me," he invited and you followed, grabbing your tablet on the way. You told him the schedule for the day as he lead the way into his office. He took of his suit jacket and hung it over the side of a sofa before he sat down in his chair.

"And you have lunch with a Mr Min Yoongi on Thursday, 3 pm, at the Monarch," you informed him last of the appointment you just made. As you looked up from your tablet, you became acutely aware of his sharp gaze.

"I prefer Celeste," he said calmly although you could almost see him firing you on the spot. Both of the restaurants were so high-end that you couldn't help but know them as they were all over the news, however, you were also provided with a list of locations when you started the job. Both of the restaurants were on the list although Mr Park's preference must have been a recent development.

"I can rearrange it," you offered immediately, already thinking of the other man's assistant and the excuses you were going to pour out to her.

Your boss's deep brown eyes rested on you. Thoughts glistened in his irises as you waited. Your hands grew clammy and your cheeks flushed with heat.

"It's alright," he said to your surprise as the hard look in his eyes softened some. "I might start preferring the Monarch."

You didn't understand what he meant but you nodded nevertheless. As you turned around and walked out, you could feel your boss's gaze burn through you back.

Taehyung

Although your friend described the job as his boss's secretary, it seemed more like a personal assistant when they asked you to come a few days early for training. They showed you the programs and gave you an entire protocol sheet of what to say and what not to say - be it to the people over the phone or to your boss himself. You were on call most of the weekends but the salary was triple and you were hoping to save some money so it didn't bother you as much.

You looked up your boss Mr Kim Taehyung before starting today. There was only one normal photo of him that you could find and it was on the company's official web page. Everything else seemed like paparazzi photos. You were surprised of how young he was for such a position and even found an article that ranked him in the ten richest people in the country.

There was no dress code for the job although already in training you noticed everyone was extremely put together. You wore a creamy white pencil skirt and a fitted but elegant top. The outfit gave you some confidence as you were nervous for your first day.

Right at the top of the enormous building, there was your heavy desk guarding the way into Mr Kim's office. You had been in since 8 am but it was five past nine already and still it was just you. You had taken some calls and rescheduled some appointments when the elevator door opened and you saw your friend Lucas. He waited beside the elevator until your boss exited.

Mr Kim had almost walked past you when he finally noticed your presence. One of his hands rested in his pocket and there was a busy look in his eyes until his gaze fixed on you.

You stood up to introduce yourself but Lucas did it for you.

"Boss, this is Y/N," he said, drawing Mr Kim's attention to himself although his sharp gaze lingered on you a moment longer. Suddenly, you realized why everyone was so put together in the office, whether they worked on the first, tenth or thirtieth floor. No matter how hard they tried to look good, their boss would always look better, seeming as if he just walked out of a Pinterest aesthetic board.

His gaze slowly turned back to you.

"I'm Y/N L/N," you said for yourself before Lucas could go on and offered your hand. Mr Kim's body language was like that of an elegant cat - moving slowly but with so much confidence it was intimidating.

He took your hand and gave it an assured but gentle squeeze.

"Kim Taehyung," he spoke with a velvety voice that made goosebumps rise on your arms.

Lucas was about to say something.

"Thank you, Lucas," said Mr Kim instead and dismissed him. Your friend nodded and threw you a reassuring smile before he disappeared in the elevator.

"You have my schedule?" Mr Kim turned to you next. Although his voice was smooth like velvet it was also as cold as ice.

"Of course," you said quickly and grabbed your tablet before you followed him into his office. You told him the appointments for the day and informed him of the more important meetings coming up that week whilst he took a seat at his heavy desk.

"A Mr Kim Namjoon wants to see you. They suggested drinks at the Imperial, tomorrow, 9 pm?" you concluded with the most recent call.

Your boss nodded but the thoughts in his eyes were far from what you had just been discussing.

"Does your boyfriend always insist on speaking for you?" he asked, catching you off guard. Your eyebrows rose.

"W-What boyfriend?" you blurted as your gaze froze on Mr Kim and a sharp breath paused in your lungs. A blush began to creep to your cheeks.

He watched you and you him until you realized what he was implying.

"You... You mean Lucas?" your eyes widened. "We- He- He's not my boyfriend, not at all. We're friends, well, acquaintances - I barely know him," you struggled to form your scattered thoughts. Your cheeks turned fully red now and your mouth grew as dry as if you just had a spoonful of sand.

"Is that... Is that a problem?" you asked carefully as you couldn't read the expression on your boss's face. Even if he told you to pack your things, you wouldn't have been surprised.

"No." Mr Kim's eyes held you for a moment longer before you managed a nod. You took your tablet and excused yourself although you could still feel his gaze on your back as you left his office.

Jungkook

Although they had showed you how to use the programs and how to be most effective at your new job, at least in theory, you couldn't help but feel your stomach churn at the sight of the massive desk waiting for you.

"If you need anything, I'm just a phone call and seventeen floors away," said the HR lady who both interviewed as well as showed you around. "Mr Jeon is on a conference call, otherwise I'd introduce you. He knows you're here, though," she explained and you nodded gratefully.

Before long you were on your own. You signed into the programs and checked your boss's schedule. At first there were just a few phone calls to take and some meetings to confirm. Talking on the phone proved to be less intimidating once you got the hang of it. The only person you actually talked to and not texted over the phone was your mom.

When the phone sounded next, however, and the call came from inside the office, your stomach twisted into knots. Still, you picked up immediately as to not keep your boss waiting.

"They're sending in the files from Kyoto. I want them on my desk by ten," said a voice on the other side before you could even manage a hello. He hung up just as quickly, leaving you without any significant information.

You quickly checked your email if there was something Japan-related in your inbox but there were no unopened messages. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you searched frantically through the programs but you couldn't find anything remotely related to what your boss said. You checked your wristwatch, noting you only had a good fifteen minutes left to complete your task.

You called your superior from the HR office, telling her exactly what he told you. She was at your desk in no time and yet not nearly as fast as you would have hoped.

"Whenever there's something you don't know, call me immediately, okay?" she said as she leaned in front of your computer. "He gets irritated when things aren't done right."

"The Kyoto office sends things directly to Mr Jeon's email, not yours. They don't like intermediaries, especially when it comes to sensitive information."

Your superior logged into Mr Jeon's email.

"I have access to his email?" you asked perplexed.

"His work email, yes."

She warned you about not being allowed to use your boss's email to send out things, only to retrieve files. The documents began printing in the corner of the room but there were dozens of pages and it was five past ten already. Your heart was pounding as your superior rushed to solve another emergency and you waited for the printer to stop.

You fixed your white cardigan top that matched nicely with your dark skirt before you gathered the papers and quickly bound them. You grabbed the heavy pile of documents and gently knocked on the door of Mr Jeon's office.

"Come in," he said as you remembered the rules from the protocol sheet they gave you.

You turned the handle and came inside, your heart pounding against your chest. You were caught off guard when you saw how young your boss was. You had expected a man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a navy blue suit as opposed to someone not much older than you in a plain black t-shirt.

"I said I wanted them by ten," he spoke with the same measure of reprimand and annoyance. He didn't bother to raise his gaze from the papers in front of him.

"I apologize, I was... I had some technical difficulties," you said and placed the documents on the left wing of his desk. Your boss looked up as if awoken from his thoughts. His eyebrows hung in a frown as his gaze followed you.

"It won't happen again," you said and waited a moment, half expecting him to fire you on the spot. He nodded instead and got up. Mr Jeon walked around his desk and came up to you. He stopped no more than two feet away from you, studying you with his dark gaze. It took everything in you not to take a step back. Your heart was hammering against your throat as you did everything in your power to maintain eye contact. There was a ring in his lip and tattoos scattered down his arm.

"Can I get you something else?" you asked, trying to sound as confident as possible although your voice nearly cracked beneath the weight of your boss's frown.

He studied you for a moment longer before he shook his head and returned to his seat. "That's all, thank you."

You nodded and released the breath you didn't know you had been holding. As you walked outside, you could feel his gaze burn through your back but you didn't dare turn around.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

Shall we ballet?

All Lads love interests x fem!reader (separately) , fluff

How the two of you dance the night away?

General masterlist

Love and deepspace masterlist

XAVIER

Soft music filled the air. Despite it's undeniable beauty you couldn't enjoy this serene melody, overwhelmed by loneliness. You were surrounded by elegant people with nasty habit of hiding their selfish intentions behind well-learned smiles.

You tried to avoid banquets organised by Philonian royal family whenever possible. You simply felt unfit, as if you were unable to assimilate into culture of local aristocracy no matter how many etiquette and dancing lessons you took.

That's why two days ago, when you received personal invitation to this party you took it with resignation, instead of jumping around with excitement, hoping to see the Crown Prince like every other unmarried maiden in this party.

They swarmed around him like a crowd of exotic birds, dressed in luxurious, colorful dresses, battling their eyelashes from behind feathery masks and chirping into his ear. Polite, but always cold and unimpressed, Prince Xavier didn't give them half of a chance to seduce him, dodging every invitation to family celebration and private chambers with ease.

You loved to observe him, and it wasn't just because he was easy on the eyes. He moved around with aura of grace and power, distant and unapproachable like a star in the sky. What a sight to behold.

His gaze met yours, making your heart freeze in fear. Great, now he thinks you're a creepy girl who likes to stalk him from afar. He walked towards you, leaving all fair maidens behind without as much as second glance. With his every step you knees went weaker, and you couldn't move, paralyzed with anxiety.

When he stopped in front of you, you were sure he was about to reprimand you for staring. Instead he smirked in a rather charming way and reached his hand out to you.

"Shall we dance?" He spoke up softly. Sound of his surprisingly tender voice echoed in your ears. It took you a moment to get yourself together and let him embrace you.

He swayed with you to the rhythm of old waltz, guiding your every step. You felt jealous stares burning holes in your back, but the two of you couldn't care less. Xavier looked at you as if you were the only woman in the world.

Prince leaned towards you. His breath tickled your face, now blushing with color as intense as roses in royal garden.

"How do you like this banquet? You seem rather not amused, Miss. As a host of this party, is there anything I could do for you?" Xavier seemed genuine, so you relaxed a bit.

"It's nothing, Your Highness... It's just so crowdy here." You sighed, hoping you didn't insult him. Problem with authorities was the last thing you needed.

"So maybe we could go somewhere more private? There is no better place to watch fireworks than my room's balcony."

ZAYNE

"Did you take me here just to stand around and wait for get-together to end?" You nudged Zayne, slightly rising your eyebrows. He cleared his throat before responding reluctantly.

"You know how much I dislike those those forced workplace holiday parties. Sorry if I don't seem very enthusiastic. That being said, thank you for coming here with me. Having a plus one wasn't obligatory, but I just couldn't do it without you." He gave you apologetic smile.

"If that's what you say, Doc." You sighed, slightly resigned. "However, I plan to enjoy myself. I'll get myself a drink, do you want one too?" You offered, trying to mask your disappointment.

"Go on if you want one, but I'll pass. I refuse to compromise my health like this."

"Doctor Zayne, always so responsible. I guess someone has to be."

He watched how your hips swayed, as you walked across the floor. He watched over you from afar, not taking his eyes of you even for a second.

"With or without ice? I can't decide. " You whispered to yourself. comparing various colorful drinks with each other.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Unknown voice disrupted your thoughts. You turned your head to the side, following it's direction. Dark haired male you just noticed immediately shook your hand with visibly shaking palm.

"You don't know me, Miss, but I've heard a lot about you from my university colleague, Zayne. I'm doctor Carter from Xander Sciences. May I have this dance? " He asked, pulling you forcefully towards the dancefloor before you managed to ask if he's close with your doctor or politely decline him. Next thing you know Zayne is by your side, separating the two of you with his body.

"Don't you know it's rude to steal other people's partners, Carter?" Zayne used his strict physician voice on the other male, making you laugh a little under your breath.

"Oh, I didn't knew the two of you were together..." Carter stuttered out.

"Great, now that you caught up with me you can go. Also understand that I will not join Xander Sciences or leave Akso Hospital. Stop pestering me for once, my patience is running low..."

Zayne groaned out every word, taking you away. You wanted to ask who was this guy, but Zayne didn't seem to want to talk about it.

Once you were at safe distance from him, you couldn't help but tease Zayne.

"Your partner, huh? Who would have thought you're such a jealous man." You laughed at flustered male.

"Guess I should have never let you out of my sight." Zayne said, knowing damn well his sight was perfectly set on you all the time. His visible jealousy gave you a bit of hope.

"So... Doctor Zayne. How about a dance since we found ourselves on the dancefloor either way?" You smiled seductively. He only nodded his head, letting you take the lead. You pulled him deeper into the crowd, swaying to the rhythm of jazz coming from the speakers.

When you turned around, your beautiful smile and shine in your eyes stole Zayne's breath away. His hands found themselves on your waist, at first stiff and hesitant, then greedy. He wanted to feel you for such a long time, now your warmth melted his ice-covered heart. He could've sworn he saw constellations in your eyes, entire galaxies. If there were any shooting stars in them, he wished on those shooting stars unlike the non-believer he was, hoping it will come true and he will be blessed with a few more dances before the night is over.

RAFAYEL

You side-eyed Rafayel, who was very busy counting Koi fish in the fountain when he should be entertaining his very wealthy and influential sponsors.

"Rafayel, are you serious?" You hissed in his ear. Handsome male didn't even bother to look away from the water.

"What is it, Miss Bodyguard?" His melodic voice was usually very pleasant to hear, but right now it only managed to piss you off.

"Will you talk to them? You know Thomas will be disappointed in both of us if you don't. He has enough troubles and work already." You tried to convince him. Unfortunately, Rafayel seemed unbothered.

"Let's go to my studio." He suddenly offered. "This party is so lame, I could be painting right now. Or taking a nice bath. Even training seagulls to sing is less pointless then sitting here. "

You rolled your eyes at him. What a man.

"Do you want me to call Thomas?" Desperate, you threatened.

"Do you think I'm scared of my own assistant?" Lemurian raised one eyebrow.

"Why can't you cooperate for once? We really need to get this done. This exposition could get your art to museums overseas." You scolded him a bit louder than you should've.

"Do you really think I care about human admiration? You forget those you claim to care about so fast and jump into whatever is trendy next. Now they like marine paintings, in a year it will be something else." Rafayel muttered, trying his best to not make it sound accusatory. After all it wasn't your fault that you didn't remember him.

"You know what Rafayel? If there is really no way for you to do your job here right, then it makes no sense to force you. Let's go back." You exhaled, putting your hands up in the air in resignation.

"I changed my mind." Lemurian answered, surprising both you and himself.

"What?" You couldn't believe he argued with you for good ten minutes only to change his attitude impulsively.

"By that I mean, that I will consider humoring those people, if you give me a reason to stay at this party. Dance with me." He slowly demanded with mischievous spark in his eyes. You agreed to it reluctantly, blaming his low, silky, siren voice for making you follow his words. Soon, his strong arms wrapped around you. You never noticed how strong he was.

Rafayel had a perfect sense of rhythm as expected from siren and he moved your body gently. Getting lost in his deep, beautiful eyes that examined your lips with genuine passion, you couldn't help but to sway with him. It was uncharacteristic of him to be this silent, but it was such a comfortable silence, that you only noticed it when the music stopped. He still danced slowly with you in his arms, as if he couldn't care less about the world around the two of you. Engulfed in his smell, you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace.

"Do you still want to stay here?" Rafayel asked, tracing your waist with his fingertips. You trembled at the sensation. How did he always knew how to get to you in the most subtle ways?

"Not really. Let's go somewhere more quiet." You gave up. Lemurian smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I know a beautiful place by the sea..."

SYLUS

"Do you like anything here, Sweetie? If you want I can buy you all of this." Sylus purred into your ear, putting his credit card in your hand. You always wondered why did it excite him so much when you spent his money. You took him by the hand and moved between tables with jewels sold on the auction, pretending to evaluate luxurious merchandise. You couldn't care less about valuables, tonight you only had eyes on your handsome dragon.

"You decided on something already, Kitten?" He smirked. You smiled back at him seductively.

"Oh, something definitely has caught my eye." You leaned on his shoulder, sighing dreamily.

"Oh? What is it then?" He played along, staring at you tenderly.

"I'll show you, it's right here. " You answered innocently and put your palm over his chest, where his heart was. Sylus laughed, cupping your face with his hands as he leaned in to look you straight in the eye.

"Only you could be brave enough to ask for this treasure of mine. How do you plan to conquer it for yourself?" He taunted.

"You just watch!" You responded with confidence, taking him by the hand and pulling towards the dancefloor.

"You know, I don't dance with just anybody. I do this cause you're special." Sylus confessed, putting one hand on your waist and reaching out for your palm with the other.

"Oh, I could have guessed by how surprised everybody is to see you with company. Why have you not found yourself a dancing partner before?" You couldn't contain your curiosity. Sylus chuckled casually.

"I guess I just waited for my perfect partner to show up so we can dance our lives away in perfect sync. Somebody who would dare to match my tempo, my rhythm, the tone I set." He winked.

"I would say I'm flattered, but after I've heard you sing I'm not so sure if I can take it as a compliment." You giggled at him, licking your lips. Sylus chuckled at your words.

"Do you suggest my singing skills need improvement? One chance at local Karaoke club and I can prove you wrong."

"No, no, there's no need. I'm just trying to say, that when you play piano you sound way more in tune." You quickly dodged his attempt. Sylus huffed but didn't say anything.

You concentrated on his deep, red eyes, looking at you with both burning passion and endless affection. You always felt naked under his gaze, as if he looked right through you and there was no part of you that you could hide from him. As if he was the only one who truly knew you in this world, with all the good, and the bad, and the shameful, and still wanted you more than anything.

Unable to conceal your true desire you stoop up on your toes to kiss your giant of a man, and without a second thought he leaned into the kiss. His big, warm hands caressed your cheek and ruffled your hair.

"Does that mean I conquered the treasure I wanted?" You asked, catching your breath.

"It was your from the beginning anyways." Sylus reassured you, kissing your forehead.

CALEB

He dreamed about that moment for such a long time, that when it finally happened to him - he couldn't believe it's real. Caleb held you in his arms, admiring the way your short but elegant dress hugged your body, enhancing your curves in the best way imaginable. It displayed your collarbones and apple tattoo you got a few weeks ago.

Caleb could have sworn your outfit today was created with the sole purpose of tempting him and knowing your tendency to tease him, it was very possible. Did you really try to rile him up on purpose? Would you like it if he crossed the line and finally confessed? If he kissed you? Or did you have an appetite for even more?

His gaze wandered from your sweet, plump lips to red apple tattoo, laying above your chest like his mark. Well, if you ignore the fact, that it was you who placed it there. Did you claim yourself as his? Was he really so slow, that you had to take matters into your own hands?

Your soft hand caressed his cheek, disrupting his overthinking session.

"Are you alright Caleb? You seem distracted." You looked concerned. Such a sweet girl, always worrying about him.

"Don't worry Pipsqueek, I'm as focused as I can be. It's just..." His face blushed up to his ears.

"Just...?" You pushed your luck, raising one eyebrow.

"It's just... You look really stunning today, Pips." He stuttered. You laughed a little bit at his shyness. If only he knew how cute he looked when he was flustered.

"Thanks. By the way, you look so good right now as well." You purred, making him lose his rhythm. Caleb almost stepped on your feet.

"You really think so?" His voice came out a bit higher than he would like it to. He just wanted to hear you say it again.

"Of course I do! Such a tall, strong and fit man at his peak form. Not to mention those gorgeous eyes and sculpted cheekbones! What is there not to love?" You teased, batting your eyelashes.

Ah, so you really decided to test his patience today.

"If only you watched your step closer. We don't want to bring ourselves a shame on my friends wedding, right?" You added.

Caleb couldn't care less about whose celebration that was, he barely knew Tara and her groom either way. All he gave a damn about was that you chose him as your plus one.

Main reflectors went down, now replaced by romantic dim lights. DJ announced the last dance of the night - old, slow love song. You moved your body closer to his, sinking into his arms. Your head leaned on his shoulder. Caleb felt his throat get dry. His entire body shivered, intoxicated by your proximity.

His touch- starved body experienced you with each of his senses, taking in your familiar scent, the shape of your body, sound of your breathing and softness of your skin. It was still you, his sweet little girl, but at the same time you were completely different. It scared him but at the same time he hoped he could be someone different to you than he was. Someone more than just childhood friend. You both wanted it for a long time but were to afraid to admit it.

Before nostalgic melody could lull him into false sense of security, you whispered into his ear.

"Do you like my tattoo?" Naughty smirk adorned your face and you were happy he can't see it in the darkness.

"I love it, really. I just didn't take you for the type that would like such things. " He admitted.

"Oh, is that so? Then I guess you don't want to see the rest of my tattoos when we go home?" You whined out with fake pout.

"Wait, there's more?" Caleb couldn't hide that he was taken by surprise.

You only giggled and kissed his jaw in response.

"Pips', you're gonna be the end of me."

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed consider checking out my other works and rebloging! Constructive criticism well seen!

I would also greatly appreciate small donations to my aurum pass funds cause those upcoming banners ...(PayPal in bio)

[obey-me-hoe]

OK SO..

How do you think Mammon would propose to MC?

I HAVE THIS QUESTION ALL OVER MY HEAD RN

Mammon's proposal

Mammon x GN!MC

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the ask! I had a lot of fun with this! Been dreaming of the day that Mammon proposes to me 🤭

He would absolutely plan out an extravagant proposal. I'm talking fireworks, live band, hundreds of roses, rent out a whole amusement park type shit. Mans will happily spend a pretty penny on his proposal to MC. Even then he might not think it's enough to fully express to MC how much they mean to him but if he spends any more money Lucifer will surely hang him from the ceiling for an eternity. He definitely can't have that happen so he leaves his plans as is.

He carefully plans out his proposal for MONTHS (he also needed time to save up enough Grimm to cover his extravagant plans). He has the whole day planned out for the two of them. A nice morning drive along the devil's coast, a picnic on the beach for lunch, a shopping spree at all their favorite places (if they even so much as look at an item for more than a few seconds he's instantly buying it for them), a fancy dinner at a high class restaurant, and lastly having fun at an amusement park. He plans to propose on the Ferris wheel when they get to the top all while fireworks bloom in the dark devildom sky.

All of his brothers know about his plans to propose and even helped coordinate. Asmo helped pick out the ring, Beel gave suggestions on restaurants, Lucifer used his influence to secure a reservation at the booked restaurant, Levi tailor made matching outfits for the two of them (Mammon designed them), Satan used his connections to get Mammon in touch with the amusement park owner, and Belphie used his cuddly nature to secretly get MC's measurements (for the ring and the custom made outfit).

While Mammon is grateful for his brothers help it does make everything seem more real and that only makes him more nervous. The closer the day gets the more of a nervous wreck Mammon becomes.

The day finally comes and Mammon wakes up early as he is too nervous and excited to sleep. He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling going over the plans for today over and over again in his head. He can't mess this up! It's gotta be perfect for his perfect human!

Mammon's thoughts are interrupted when he hears MC stir beside him. He looks over at his love half asleep next to him. Suddenly all his worries vanish and he feels this warm feeling deep inside his chest. He gently caresses their cheek while looking at them with the softest most lovesick look in his eyes and a gentle smile.

"Marry me will ya?" He whispers almost breathlessly as if it were meant only for his ears.

"So that's why you've been acting so strange the last few weeks" MC whispers, sleep still evident in their voice. MC opens their eyes and smiles up at a shocked Mammon.

"Y-ya weren't supposed to hear that!" Mammon looks away with a deep shade of red blooming on his cheeks.

"Forget ya heard anything! The Great Mammon didn't spend all his time planning the perfect proposal just for ya to find out before the day's even started!" Mammon says with a pout.

"Forget I heard what?" MC says with a faux look of confusion.

"Exactly! That's my good human!" Mammon smiles triumphantly. MC chuckles.

The two of them continue to chat and cuddle for a while before starting their day together. The whole time both are thinking the same thing:

I'm gonna marry that idiot (affectionate) 💛

[divadepreshawn]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

Summary: A case brings the past back

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader

The team was gathered for the briefing, a somewhat complex case because it involved important people, the suspect was targeting specific people, guards, lawyers and judges.

Hotch enters the room and sits next to Rossi “Garcia, what do we have?”

“Two guards and a lawyer were killed with a point-blank shot in a 5-day interval, a judge was attacked but survived, he is in the hospital recovering from surgery” She hands a folder to each of them.

“He doesn't seem to enjoy it, he's not an exhibitionist” Emily comments analyzing the photo of the crime scene.

“And he's not even targeting the number of victims, he has a specific target” Reid points to the name of the place where the lawyer was killed “This place is busy, he could have killed more than twenty people, but he didn't”

Morgan flips through the files “He's targeting authority figures, maybe a resentful ex-colleague or ex-inmate, any suspects?”

“The victims’ families don’t know if they had enemies. As for former inmates, the list is huge. About 1.46 million people have been arrested in the last 5 years in the United States, and only ⅓ of them were for minor crimes. About 10,345 people were released after their unjust imprisonment was confirmed,” Garcia says as he shows a slide with the data.

“Given the way the victims are killed, I believe it’s revenge. We should focus on unjust imprisonment.” Rossi thinks for a moment. “Do we know anything else?”

“Of the 10,345 people unjustly imprisoned, 2,300 people were released three weeks before the murders began. Of those 2,300, 1,000 people were imprisoned due to psychiatric reports. The families all went to the same company. It redid all the reports and proved that they were forged.”

“Which company?” Hotch asks, looking up from the report.

Garcia hands him a sheet of paper “Themis, it’s a multidisciplinary company, lawyers, psychologists and psychiatrists work there. After they close the case, the names of those involved are omitted from the database.”

Rossi nods “I’ve heard of this company, they’ve worked on important cases, the big judges and the best law firms only work with them, they also provide advice to some lawyers.”

Reid closes the report “I read some articles by the founder about the State×mental health, she has really interesting points about the way society views crimes and how our morals affect judgment.”

Hotch looks at Spencer, confused “Founder?”

“Yes, there aren’t many pictures of her on the internet, but she wrote many articles. She said that society fails to spread information about mental disorders and that the State also fails to consider this when judging cases. She founded this company so that everyone could have access to legal assistance when it comes to mental disorders. Which fits with the name of the company, since Themis is the goddess of law in Greek mythology. Daughter of Uranus and Gaia, the deity was the guardian of men’s oaths and the law. She was often invoked in trials, which is why she was often seen as the goddess of justice-”

Morgan touches Spencer’s arm, a silent and gentle warning that he was rambling. Spencer stops talking, mumbling a small apology.

“Okay, JJ and Rossi are going to the hospital to talk to the judge, Morgan and Prentiss are going to the crime scene, Reid and I are going to the company to see if we can get the list without needing a warrant, we leave in thirty minutes.” Hotch closes the report and puts it in his briefcase before leaving the room.

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Being a successful woman had its price, a very high price to be honest, you worked so hard to have your space and be respected in a sea of ​​men. In the beginning it wasn't easy, you worked to your limit, for renowned lawyers, judges, big law firms, at the same time you continued studying and doing research to improve yourself and be able to open your own company.

You were analyzing a report when Ella, your assistant, entered your office.

"Y/N?" She asked hesitantly

"Yes?" you hummed in response without looking away from the computer.

"Don't freak out now but there are two FBI agents wanting to talk to you"

Ok, now you were paying attention, you stop what you were doing and look at her, your head starts to go over your whole life, did you forget to file your income tax? Did someone in your family get arrested? Oh my god, did you kill someone and you don't remember?

"To me? Did I do something?" you ask panicking.

She looks at you confused “I don’t know, did you?”

“No,” you shake your head as you stand up “Did you do something?”

“What? I didn’t!” She shakes her head with wide eyes.

You sigh trying to calm yourself down “I’m going now.”

You head towards the mirror in the corner of the room, fixing your skirt and hair slightly. If you’re going to get arrested, you should at least look nice.

As you leave the room, you can see Ella talking to two men. They have their backs to you. You glance between them quickly. One of them has a sweater over his shirt. That’s cute, you think. Your gaze turns to the other. He’s wearing a suit, and he looks expensive from the way the fabric hangs on his body.

“What do I owe you for the honor of your visit-” you stop talking abruptly when your eyes land on them and you recognize one of them.

“Aaron? Aaron Hotchner?” You smile. What were the chances?

He frowns for a moment as he studies you, his eyes lingering on your sun-shaped necklace, you can see the understanding dawning in his eyes.

“Y/N?” He asks in surprise

You laugh as you nod, who would have thought you would end up bumping into your ex-boyfriend from college.

You were serious, you dated for practically four years of college. You fell in love with him because, well, he was gorgeous, smart and funny, a stark contrast to the scowling man you saw a minute ago. But to be fair he looked even more handsome now, God is that fair?

You can see a slight smile playing on his lips, though it soon returns to its previous expression.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you, how are you?” He asks softly.

You smile “I’m fine, how have you been? The last time I heard from you you were still a lawyer”

“I think I make more of a difference in the FBI” he shrugs not looking away from yours.

Yes, you know, he is the most selfless person you have ever met.

You nod, holding his gaze.

“Uh-huh,” the man next to him cleared his throat, catching his attention. “Do you know each other?” He looked confused.

You and Aaron exchange a brief look, you let him answer.

“We met in college” your tone was firm, not leaving room for questions.

Auth, just acquaintances? That hurt. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Oh sorry, I’m Y/N” you offer a soft smile.

“Cough the CEO” Ella says while faking a cough.

You scold her with your gaze turning to them.

“I’m Dr. Reid” he has a shy smile on his lips “I’ve read many of your articles on Psychology in the legal world, the one of yours about the death penalty is really interesting, I guess I never thought about it from that angle, you did a good job with the humanization of the victim. And the name of the company? Really great idea, Themis? Although I think you could call it Athena too-” Hotch lightly pats your arm.

“Spencer”

He stops talking, blushing slightly and mumbling “sorry”.

You smile gently at him “It’s okay, I’m glad someone understood the meaning behind the name.”

He gives a slight nod, looking more relaxed.

“So, why are you here?” You ask curiously, looking between them.

Hotch hands you a folder with three photos.

“We have a murder case and we believe it may be a revenge-motivated crime, we need the list of the 1,000 you helped free. Do you know any of them?”

You look at the photos but don’t recognize any of them. “I don’t know them, I wish I could help but I can’t give out my clients’ information.”

He sighs, taking the folder when you hold it out to him “Y/N, this is serious, I understand that there is ethical confidentiality but if you don’t help more people will get hurt”

Would you be a really bad person if you admitted that you didn’t pay attention to what he said? God, why did he look so attractive? Was it his clothes, his hair, his tone of voice, or the lines on his face? Maybe it was all of them-

“Y/N? Did you hear what I said?” He scans your face for a sign that you understand the gravity of the situation.

“I..” you sigh “Ella?”

“Yes?” She stands up from her desk.

“Give Dr. Reid the information he needs.” She nods, guiding Spencer to her desk.

Hotch gives Spencer a slight nod for her to go with Ella, and then turns his gaze back to you.

“Thank you, that really will help.” He crosses his arms.

Your gaze immediately drops to your arms.

Why did you break up again?

“No problem.” You give him a toothless smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too.” He hesitates for a moment. “I’m… sorry about the way things ended. I was an idiot.”

Oh, yes, you just remembered why you broke up.

You loved him, but you had learned that love alone wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship. It took understanding, effort, and reciprocity. You knew that Aaron had difficulty expressing his feelings, a reflection of the traumas he carried since childhood. You tried to be patient, to fill the gaps with gestures and unspoken words, but in the end, you felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone.

But that’s in the past. You were in your twenties. What did you really know about relationships? You’ve gotten over it.

He hesitates for a moment, looking down at his shoe. “I wish I could go back and fix things.”

Your heart skipped a beat. What is he trying to insinuate?

He turns his gaze to you “I know I shouldn’t ask you this but, would you like to go out on Saturday? I know a coffee shop near downtown that has that sweet bread you liked.”

Your heart melts, he still remembers.

Maybe it’s worth the risk.

You smile “I’d love to actually.”

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[yesimwriting]

“one jealous fit away from openly making a move on bestie in the most unhinged way possible”

keep talking keep talking

On a real one tho Armand is so close to crashing out that you can see the crazy in his eyes. It’s definitely not the good nurse tonight!

I LOVE jealous Armand, even though he is unhinged.

This isn't exactly Armand fully crossing the line but it is fairly unhinged and also much more gremlin than bestie's used to <3

----

The warmth pulsing through you is as consuming as it is distant, the bulk of it infesting the part of your mind responsible for self preservation. The only urge, the only instinct you're capable of recognizing is the desire to not let this feeling slip into nothingness.

The person who's beyond committed to keeping you from your goal is standing between you and the guestroom door. Armand's stillness would feel like an improvement in his demeanor if it wasn't for the tension in his stance.

"After being constantly subjected to your presence, after seeing the way that you've so completely infatuated Louis, I began to convince myself that there might be something more to you than what the world perceives you as." His words are too sharp, too poignant to feel genuine. "But clearly I've overestimated you."

You sigh, allowing your head to angle itself to one side. Armand's more disheveled than you're used to him being, his sleeves pushed up enough to reveal his forearms and a loose curl falling across his forehead.

"Because the world begins and ends with your opinion." You wipe at your eyes as you try to force yourself to straighten. "I want another shot."

Armand scoffs, the sound more aggressive than you thought possible. "You've had enough."

His certainty morphs your general want into obligation. If his actions tonight have shown you anything, it's that he's deluded himself into thinking that holds authority over you. The last thing you need to do is validate him.

You push yourself to stand, your hand pressing itself against the mattress. "That's not your call." The floor beneath your feet isn't the steadying force you were hoping it'd be. "Especially after what you did."

He takes a step towards you. "After what I did?" He echoes your sentiments with a harshness that a more sober version of yourself might have had the decency to flinch at. "You're the one who had to be stopped from running off with some stranger--"

You roll your eyes. "I wasn't 'running off'--he had an in at this party downtown, and I was going to take you and Louis, but then you started freaking out." Armand continues to pace forward. "And he wasn't a stranger stranger, I told you he knew this girl I used to hang out with all the time."

"The stranger that had his hands all over you happens to run in the same circles as the crowd of girls that only call you when they want someone to gush over while drunk." You resist the urge to scoff. What does Armand know about your friendships outside of Louis? "That makes all the difference."

You take a step towards him, crossing your arms in front of your chest in an attempt at stabilizing yourself. There are several arguments you could make against most of his points, but the only rebuttal you can manage to say out loud is a flat, "He wasn't all over me--we were just talking."

Armand moves forward again, this time only stopping when he's so close you have to angle your head back to keep looking him in the eye. "Just talking," he repeats slowly. You blink, pressing your fingers into your forearms in an attempt at making yourself feel more present. "That's what's wrong with you."

"What?"

He's silent as he studies you. "Everyone is so focused on fawning over you that no one ever thinks to tell you 'no'." Your lips part, but before you can finish piecing together a response, your precarious grasp on stability slips. You lose your balance, your foot forgetting how to exist within the confines a high heel. Armand's hand finds your shoulder before you can actually stumble. "And when someone does, you begin to behave like a spoiled child."

You frown before lifting an arm. Your fingers bend around his wrist, but you can't bring yourself to try to push him away. "You're the one throwing a fit."

He scoffs, his hold on you tightening, "Even your beloved Louis's afraid of falling out of your good graces by advising you against something."

What. His words have to be nothing more than another attempt at digging at your skin, at hurting you in order to make you listen. You're not a perfect person, and you may not always be the perfect friend, but you know your relationship with Louis. "He knows he can say anything to me."

"Yes, and when his gentle pleas don't impact your actions in the slightest, he asks me to do what he can't to keep you from making mistakes."

Something uneasy coils itself around your stomach. The thought of Louis being uncomfortable around you in any capacity is enough to immediately make you feel nauseous. However, the concept of Louis and Armand conspiring on the best ways to handle you is sickening in a completely different way.

You pull his hand away from your shoulder, and he does nothing to keep you from prying yourself out of his grasp. "Fine, since you and Louis like discussing the best way to handle me, maybe you can both take the time to figure out how to get me to leave that party."

Your purse--you just need to find your--and your phone, and you'll call that guy.

"You're not leaving."

To him, the words are so clearly an inevitability. You turn around before you can think through your reaction. "What are you going to do? Make me stay here?" You scoff before turning to face the guestroom door again.

It takes you a second longer than it should for your mind to refocus on what you're looking for. After a beat, your eyes settle on your purse--abandoned on your dresser. Your mind has just started to acknowledge this new goal when you're pulled out of place too suddenly for you to even react.

Your back hits something firm with enough force to make it difficult to take a full breath. The suddenness of it all would have made your head hurt if it wasn't for the palm resting against the back of your skull.

You blink, once and then twice as you try to resist the panicked ache attempting to root itself in your chest. Armand's staring at you with a patience that's unnerving, one hand on your upper arm and the other pressed between the wall and your head.

"You're forgetting all of the things I could do to you." His voice is devoid of all emotion.

For a long moment, all you can bring yourself to do is stare at him. His features are sharp but not harsh, some underlying quality you can't quite place making him seem softer. "You're going to kill me for trying to go to a party?"

His fingers bend themselves into the roots of your hair with just enough force to make you feel the implication of pressure. "You make ending your life sound like such an ordeal." Armand's hold on your hair tightens in a way that leaves you angling your head away from him. "Because you don't realize how little it would take for me to go through with it."

While this is the first time he's ever made the threat from this proximity, you're still not impressed by his attempts at trying to convince you that tonight was his last straw.

The hand on your arm carefully shifts up to your shoulder. Armand leans forward. Before you can think to react, his lips brush against your collarbone. "A little more pressure," the words are soft, whispered against the side of your neck. He leans in again, pressing his lips against your pulse point. "Right here."

You're more focused on your breathing than you are on thinking of an actual reaction. "Again," you exhale carefully, "All over a party?"

He straightens just enough to pull away from you, but makes no other attempt at creating genuine distance. "All over you becoming more trouble than you're worth."

The phrasing stings more than it should. You frown, reaching for him without thinking, your hand settling against his forearm. "You really think that?"

Armand shifts back enough to fully look at you. His eyes are wider than you expected them to be, and something about the look feels heavy. He drags his thumb against your shoulder. "Unfortunately, you're worth more trouble than you should be." You're not sure what to make of the statement. "Get ready for bed," his tone leaves no room for argument, "Louis won't be able to sleep if he doesn't see you settled before morning."

"Well, with you around to make sure that everything works out exactly how Louis wants it to, why would he need to?"

He squeezes your arm. "Don't start anything else tonight." When you don't ease, Armand continues, "You're worth more than I anticipated, but you're not worth everything."

You sigh. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to avoid anymore confrontation tonight. "Fine, I guess you ratting him out can stay our secret."

He presses his lips together briefly. "Louis is my companion of nearly eight decades, I did not 'rat him out'."

Basically telling you that Louis told him to get you out of that club so that he could remain completely innocent feels a lot like ratting him out, but you're not trying to pull apart your newfound piece, so you decide to let it go.

Armand shifts carefully, his hand carefully un-weaving itself from the roots of his hair. He takes a moment to smooth your hair back into place. "However, I'd appreciate it if you didn't rat me out."

There's something lighthearted about his attempt at adopting a phrase that came from you. It's enough to ease you into a mock debate. "Well, we don't have eight decades of history, but I have it on good authority that I'm becoming more trouble than I'm worth, so..."

He pulls away from you a little more, one of his hands remaining on your shoulder. "That's something you can complain about after getting ready for bed."

Armand squeezes your arm before letting you go entirely.

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot - Part 2

Plot: Your relationship with Toji started on a high, the two of you madly in love with each other and the illusion that the dangerous life he was living, wouldn't stand a chance against your feelings for one another. But things changed after your pregnancy. From now on you didn't only have to take care of yourself in his absence but you needed to think about what's best for Megumi too.

You moved out of your shared apartment, trying to live a normal life and move on but sometimes he’d come home from a mission, caked in dry blood just to use your shower and for a quick stress relief. And tonight, Toji was knocking on your door again.

Warnings: deadbeat dad!Toji - Megumi's mom!Reader - slight mentions of blood and injuries - brief argument regarding Toji's life choices - pussy drunk Toji - body worship - oral (f) - edging - pussy slapping - overstimulation - fingering - squirting - dacryphilia - manhandling - talk about breeding and impregnation - unprotected sex - prone bone - doggy

Word count: 4.523

Part 1 - Part 2

He secretly loves watching you come completely undone because of him, it was one of his favorite sights. Watching you so desperate and needy, begging for him, pleading with him until you finally couldn't hold back anymore. And after that he didn't give you any mercy, just like he had promised.

From this moment onwards, Toji wouldn’t stop or slow down until you are a trembling mess beneath him, completely overstimulated and fully satiated.

After your first orgasm he doesn't give you even one second to catch your breath. His tongue is working you through the high, flicking your sensitive nub expertly while his fingers keep your puffy lips spread. He watches your sweet juices gush out before latching his mouth onto you and drinking up every last bit of it, groaning in pleasure.

One of his hands comes down to smear your arousal around a bit while his mouth is busying itself with the smooth skin of your inner thighs, leaving little purple marks and small bites all over them. “You taste so fucking good. Missed this so much, baby. Don't you ever think about giving that sweet release to someone else. You hear me?”

You arch your back in pleasure when he inserts one of his thick fingers into you, your senses still on overdrive because of your previous release. But just as fast as he went in, he pulled his finger away again, giving you another slap right onto your sensitive clit. “You still listening? I said not to give this beautiful body to anybody else but me. You're mine, always will be mine.”

Toji is serious about his words and you know he is with the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in that oh so typical snarl he always wears when giving orders. It makes his eyes look darker and the scar across his lips curl up in a condescending manner. You loved it, this side of him, the side that still shows how much he actually cares.

He attaches his mouth back against your core, this time two of his fingers are threatening to enter and you don't know if you are ready for it just yet. “Toji, wait! Please~. Don't- I- I can't-” Maybe he just ignored what you were saying or maybe he actually wasn't able to hear you because he pushed them in anyway and elicited a loud moan from you.

The noise in Toji's ears is almost deafening as he loses himself in the taste of you, your walls snug around his two fingers as he begins to move them in and out of you. “Fuck! So tight. You can take it, baby. You always do. So good for me. So tight. So perfect.” He mumbles into your folds, his deep voice reverberating against your sensitive parts, making you whine out.

“Gonna kill every fucking bastard who dares to touch you. So don't even think about going on another date with some useless scum.” His fingers move faster, working all the right places while his mouth is lapping up every drop of your essence, not letting anything go to waste.

He takes everything that you give him and then asks for more, continuing to bring you to the edge, over and over again until you are completely spent and trembling beneath him, your breathing heavy and labored as your body writhes from the pleasure and overstimulation.

By the time your fourth orgasm rolls around you are desperately sobbing into the cushions to muffle your cries and moans, your hips bucking and legs trying to fight their way from Toji's relentless grip even though it was no use.

You could feel another one building up inside but this time it was different, the pressure in your lower abdomen too tight and you know what's going to happen. You try to warn Toji, beg him to stop or to at least slow down, to give you a break but when your mouth falls open there's only more moans and whines falling out.

But Toji isn't stupid and he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows you're close. He could feel it in the way you are desperately clenching around his fingers and the way your left thigh starts to twitch, your hands gripping painfully at his hair. He knows you're almost at your limit and he intends to stop and move things forward after just one more. He needed one more from you, needed to taste you just a little bit longer.

It's not the first time Toji made you squirt but it was the first time he had his mouth attached to your core while doing so and when your sweet release is gushing out of you with a loud cry of yours, running down his wrist and chin, into his mouth and down his throat… he thinks he's standing right in front of heaven's gate.

Never in his life has he experienced such pleasure just from giving it to someone else and he felt like a highschool boy when he actively had to hold himself back from cumming into his pants at the sight in front of him and the taste of you on his tongue.

When he finally stops his ministrations, you are barely able to breathe. Your mind is blank and there was only him. Him and you. At exactly this moment.

His mouth moves along your stomach and up to your face again, licking away your tears. His hands, with a sudden gentleness, are caressing every mark he left behind on your skin. “That was amazing. You are amazing. So pretty, all spent and crying. So beautiful, baby. Most amazing woman in my life. In this world.”

He is still looking down at you, still taking in your exhausted form and the way your eyes are practically glazed over, not even looking at him anymore. He knows he has taken your body to its limit, he could feel you trembling under him and see the way your chest rises and falls in a labored way while you desperately try to get some oxygen into your lungs.

He begins to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, placing gentle and soothing kisses there. "Did so good for me baby. Took it so well. Best baby mama ever, huh? Think you can give me a little more?”

His hips subconsciously start grinding against you, reminding the both of you that he is still half dressed and incredibly hard when his jeans brushes against your core.

Taking all your strength, you reach out for his face with a shaky hand, gently cupping it in the palm of your hands and speak in a soft whisper. “Want you. Want you so much. Please~. I need you… Daddy…” Now matter how spent you were, the desperate desire to be filled up by him is evident in your voice when you call him by that nickname he loves so much.

A nickname so simple, so domestic in a way, always held such power over him since he got to know you were pregnant and you knew what you were doing when you called him that. Hoping it would still make him go as feral as in the past and make him take you roughly against the sheets.

And it had exactly the desired effect. When you whispered those words to him, Toji knew he was done for. He was never able to resist you when you used that particular nickname for him. It always turned something inside of him primal. It made him want to take you. Claim you. Put another baby in you even.

He leaned down so his lips were close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he responded in a low and possessive voice. "I know, baby. I know.”

Your hands instantly find themselve fumbling with the belt buckle around his jeans, opening and pulling them down just enough so one of your hands could slip inside and you speak up against his lips. “Want to be a baby mama so badly. Again. Just for you. Want you to put a child inside of me again, something to always remind me of you. Maybe a girl this time?”

It was a bad idea. The two of you are already ruining one child's life but at that moment everything outside of this room doesn't matter. You have already lost your mind and are completely consumed by the man in your bed, the father of your child, Fushiguro Toji.

The moment you put your hand on him, he groans softly, the sound coming out feral and animalistic. It is like his control is completely slipping from him the moment you start speaking to him about what you wanted. He shifted his hips to the side to give your small little hand in his pants better access to work your magic before growling into your ear.

"A girl, huh? You want a little princess running around?" He chuckles softly before he suddenly rolls you over onto your stomach.

“Yes, please~. A little girl for us to spoil. You could talk to Shiu, take some time off again. Spend it with us. Your family. Stay with me. Knocking me up again and again.” You couldn't stop yourself from rambling on, knowing deep down that it was useless and that the life you so desperately wanted is, and forever will be, just right outside your reach.

You both know it is impossible, Toji's ego forbids him to do anything else for a living then what he does currently. He loves fighting, he loves killing, he loves his job. But at this moment, the idea of it sounds too tempting, too good to pass up.

You need him to claim you completely and what better way to make sure everyone walking the street knows you are his, than getting you pregnant. Everybody would know you are his woman, that is carrying his child while Megumi is dragging him to the slides on the small playground around the corner for the nth time. A happy little family. Him getting you pregnant again, sounds like exactly what you need right now!

He loved the way you were completely rambling on right now, letting every thought that came into your mind escape out of your mouth without shame. You were always so sweet and caring, but the way you desperately wanted a little girl made something deep inside of him twist in a way he couldn't describe.

He shifts behind you, his body hovering over you until his chest is flush against your back and his lips are at your ear again, his voice is coming out in a low growl. "You know I can't do that baby. You know it's impossible.”

You bury your face into the cushions, gripping them tightly in your small hands. You don't even notice that you started crying desperately somewhere through your rambling, only coming halfway to your senses when you let out such a loud and desperate sob that it shatters Toji's heart to pieces.

If he isn't going to give you another child, then you need him to fuck that thought out of your head, make your brain go fuzzy and turn you into a stupid, dumb little slut, like he always knows how. So you press back against him, hoping he would understand the silent message.

It is obvious how much you still wanted something that he knew he couldn't give you. He hates it and he hates himself for letting it get this far. For letting things become even more complicated. But instead of doing something against it, he leans down and kisses the base of your neck softly, his teeth dragging against the sensitive skin before he spoke up softly. "Just for tonight, baby. I'll make you forget all about it.”

“Still need you.” Tears are still escaping your red and puffy eyes and one of your hands comes to the back of his neck to pull him closer into you. You could feel his breath against the shell of your ear, making the small little hairs on the back of your neck stand up and he just held you like that for a few moments.

His huge frame against you from behind, pressing you down into the mattress with his bodyweight, his body basically completely covering yours from behind. You looked so small, so helpless beneath him like this. It made him have to fight so hard to not just give in to what you wanted.

Toji whispers sweet nothings into your ear, whispering things like how you are such a good girl and how he always wants to take care of you. How much he misses you and Megumi and how much he wishes things would be different. His large hands slowly roam up and down your back and sides before coming around to your front, over your stomach.

His touch was always so uncharacteristically gentle with you, especially in situations like these where he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, make you feel good and show you just how much he loves you.

He places another soft kiss on the side of your neck before his arm that is placed under your waist, lifts your hips up just a bit to slot himself against you.

Toji was always for the tears. A night for him only ever ends successfully when he's reduced you to a crying, blabbering mess that's incapable of grasping even one coherent thought. But this, seeing you so broken down over a man like him who would never be good enough… it broke his heart to see you like this and he needed to get your mind out of the gutter, doing what he does best besides killing.

He pushes himself inside in one slow fluid motion, reveling in the feeling of your tight warm walls around him. The moment he fills you up completely, uniting the two of you and making you one, you let out a gasp, holding your breath right after.

He lets out a low groan against your skin when he fills you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you even closer to him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he starts to move against you in shallow grinds, giving you a moment to try and get used to his size. His arms tighten around you, his own way of anchoring himself so he doesn't go too fast and rough with you.

With the two of you like this, the world feels right again. It always feels the same, like coming home. Like this is how it should have been from the start. You missed this. Missed him so much.

You are still trying to calm down from your emotional outburst, your breathing coming out in rags as your body starts to naturally respond to the feeling of him inside your snug gummy walls. Toji reaches out to you with one of his big hands, grabbing one of yours and intertwining your fingers together.

He holds your hand tightly in his own as he continues to slowly and gently move against you, his large body enveloping your entire frame. He was doing his best to keep himself calm, not wanting to overstimulate you even more and knowing you're still sensitive, not only from the multiple previous releases but also in your emotional state right now.

This, right now, is something different, not like the usual times he came for late night visits in the months before. Not the fuck between missions. This was more intimate. This was making love to each other like you two haven't done in a long time.

He presses sweet kisses against your skin, his breath hot against your ear as he responds to you. "I missed this too, baby. Missed having you like this.”

At his words you let out a needy whine, pressing back into him and trying to match his rhythm, working together with him in practiced ease to bring both of you the pleasure you crave.

He groans softly against your skin as he feels you press against him. It was like you were desperate for more, to be as close to him as possible. Like being connected in this way wasn't enough for you, you still needed more of him. And he certainly needed more of you as well.

One of his large hands comes up to your chest, gently cupping one of your breasts as he presses himself back into you deeply once again, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place, wanting to keep you close to him and make you feel safe and protected.

You let your head fall back onto his shoulder, his lips immediately planting soft kisses across your temple and the side of your face, hips slowly picking up the pace just a little and the hand that was gently cupping your breast, started teasing and groping at it.

It all feels so good. You try to hold out a little longer, not wanting to let go so easily and let go of this moment already but with how sensitive you still are from earlier, it was a difficult task. The pleasure slowly but gradually builds up inside of you again, making your hips buck into him more desperately.

He continues to kiss your face, nibbling gently on your earlobe as he feels you starting to become close. It was like he could never get enough of you, like nothing he did could satisfy the way he wanted more of you.

Toji feels your hips buck up into him and he groans against your skin again, his hand moving to your hip to keep you still. He continues his slow pace, his fingers teasing your nipple as he spoke up in a low and commanding voice. "You're being so good for me baby. Just hold on for a little longer.”

You are frantically shaking your head yes. Your hands desperately clutching around his muscular arms above your chest, your nails digging into his skin.

“Together. Want to come together. You close? Can't hold much longer.” Your voice was strained, ruff from screaming in anger, pain and frustration as well as pleasure during this evening. Still, you need him to finish as well and you need him to do it with you, begging him to tip over the edge with you countless of times without even realizing it.

He groans deeply against your ear when he feels you clutching onto his arms, feeling the way your nails are digging into his skin and hearing your strained voice in his ear and feeling your body starting to tremble beneath him made his control slip just a little more.

His lips find their way to your neck again, leaving bites and marks against your skin as he whispers against your ear.

"I'm close baby. Just a little longer… You can hold on a little longer, right? You're a good girl, huh? Be a good girl for me and wait a little bit longer, please.”

Toji let's go of your waist, making you fall head first into the cushions again, because you really couldn't keep yourself upright without his strength holding you up right now. One of his hands finds the small of your back, having you arch in that beautiful way that always makes him reach even deeper, makes him hit all the right spots and makes your vision go black. Gripping your hips tightly for leverage, he is basically pounding you into the mattress, purposefully hitting that one special spot inside of you that only he seems to know how to find.

At this point in time Toji is practically losing whatever control he has left, just needing to feel you and touch you in any way that he could. Hearing your cries and moans beneath him and feeling your body trembling from the pleasure he was giving you felt amazing and he was getting lost in it completely.

He shifted his own hips, desperate to be as deep inside of you as possible and he groaned deeply against your ear. "Baby…let go for me.”

It had your back arching even more and your head spiraling as you cum around him on command with your body trembling from pleasure, squeezing him tight in the grip of your convulsing muscles around him.

The way you cum around him felt incredible, like usual, and he groaned deeply against your neck as he felt you squeezing him. It was becoming too much and just a few more seconds later he was coming right alongside you with a loud groan.

His entire body stills completely when he has the tip of his head buried as deep as he possibly could, right against your cervix and spurting hot, white strings into you. He practically collapses on top of you shortly after, just barely catching himself with his arms to not end up fully pinning you under him.

"Good girl...such a good girl, baby.”

After you two catch your breath, Toni helps you slip inside your pajamas. Your body was aching all over from the intensity, your muscles sore and the marks he left on every part of your skin are already blossoming.

Once you are nice and comfortable in your pajamas, he helps you lay back down on the bed, he immediately lays down beside you and pulls you close again, wanting you to settle comfortably against him. He wraps both of his arms around you, holding you to his chest as he tangles your legs together before he speaks up softly. "How are you feeling baby? Not too sore now, are you?”

“I'm good.” You slur the words out in a tired mumble. “They will remind me of tonight when you're gone in the morning.” You are tracing his chest softly with your fingers, your voice sounding sad at the outlook of him being gone tomorrow.

There was no denying that he was going to leave again. You both know that, as much as you wanted to deny the truth. He would be out on his missions again, not coming over for weeks, if ever coming back. Not seeing you or Megumi.

Toji lets out a small sigh as he listens to you talk and he couldn't ignore the sadness that was lacing your voice when you spoke about him leaving in the morning. He hated leaving you and Megumi just as much as you hated being separated from him, but he had no choice. Or at least that's what he likes to tell himself.

He holds you even tighter against him, his fingers running through your hair gently and he pressed a gentle kiss against the top of your head before responding to you. "I know baby, and I'm sorry. But you'll be okay, you always are.”

“I know. I'll take good care of him, I promise.” You are referring to Megumi who would grow up without a father.

Toji follows your line of sight and your eyes are fixated on the picture frame by the bedside table, that he didn't even notice until now. It was a photo of the two of you, taken by Shiu right after the two of you started dating. You looked so happy. Toji holds you in his strong arms, looking down at you with a small smile while there is a huge smile plastered onto your own. It was the only picture of just the two of you that you owned.

He noticed the way your eyes are drawn to the picture and he looked over at it himself with the memories of the past like a stabbing pain in his heart. And just like you, the first thing he noticed was how happy the two of you looked together. You looked so radiant in his arms and he was looking down at you like you were his entire world. He was never like that with anyone else, never looked at anyone else the way he looked at you.

He felt a pang in his chest when he saw the picture but he tried to ignore it as he spoke up in a calm voice. "You kept that...?”

“Of course I did.” You whisper, shuffling around a bit to get more comfortable in his arms. “Always look at it. Every day. Reminds me of you whenever I miss you. Never makes me forget about what we had. How happy we were.” Your voice was getting quieter and your eyes flutter shut, when the physical and emotional exhaustion finally catches up and you slowly succumb to sleep.

You would never tell him or anyone else, but that picture was the only thing you could look at to remember better times while crying yourself to sleep.

He held you close against him even tighter as he listened to you speak, his heart clenching in a way he didn't understand at your words. Hearing how you never forgot about him and how that picture reminded you of him every day when he wasn't there...it was almost more than he could stand.

He continued to run his fingers through your hair gently as you drifted off and fell asleep in his arms. He only pulled the blanket around you both and made sure you were comfortable before speaking up in a low voice.

"Sleep well princess…”

When you wake up the next morning, Toji was gone. The bed feeling cold and empty when you sit up, clutching the sheets tightly. It was to be expected, even in the past he never stayed. You notice the picture of the two of you, that was sitting on your bedside table just a few hours ago, gone. Leaving you with nothing left of him other than the marks and bruises on your skin and those will fade far too quickly. Tears start to build up both from anger and sadness and you couldn't believe he was just gone, taking everything with him.

You are brought back to reality when the door peaks open, Megumi padding inside the room with his favorite stuffed animal clutched tightly in his hands. It was a gift from his father for his first birthday, that he missed because of another mission. Megumi made his way over to the bed, climbing up using all his strength and cuddled up to you, trying to console you to the best of his abilities.

“Daddy won't be coming back again, will he?” It broke your heart. He was so small, he shouldn't have to try to be strong for you. It should be the other way around.

You hold his head tightly against your chest, speaking in a whisper. “No buddy, I don't think he will.”

Toji wasn't a good person, it was going to be better for all of you with him gone. You just wished things could have been different. But maybe in another life.

[sunkissed-poet]

thinking of high school sweetheart!kirishima who can’t help but stare when you giggle with your friends.

a/n || fem! reader, no war au, two oblivious idiots in love with each other,

high school sweetheart!kirishima when others make you laugh instead of him. dammit. he wish he was the one making you smile. but for now, as your classmate, he wants to respect your boundaries as he watches you from afar. you snap him out of his daydreaming by greeting him with a nonchalant and effortlessly cheeky grin. “eijirou, whatcha thinking about? hmm?” you say, poking his cheek. the sudden touch made blood rush to his face. “you, pretty girl,” he laughs. he then freezes. an uncomfortable sensation washes over him as he realizes he said what he was thinking. he slowly turned to you, watching your smile drop. “eh?” you say with a confuse look, leaning on his desk. he mumbled a few sorries, but before he could say anything else, mina dragged you away.

high school sweetheart!kirishima when your attentions shift to others. “y/n! we have training with aizawa sensei! did you seriously forget? you usually remember,” mina smirks. before dragging you away she froze, looking at kirishima’s reddended expression and then at you. you couldn’t help but contain your smile. “WHAT?! he confessed to you already? it’s just like what you were daydreaming earl-” kirishima’s tensed body relaxed as he smirked. around you, he was soft. he felt secure, and stable. in a world where he had to constantly fight against villains, you were his comfort. and sure, he felt ashamed of it at times, and he would never admit it to himself. he likes you. no, he loves you. he loves your precious grin, your undeniable kindness, and loyalty to your friends. you were a sweet, genuine girl he could trust. you were someone he wanted to spend the rest of his days with. maybe he was stupid for thinking this. after all, he was just in high school. but if it wasn’t going to last, so be it. he had to take his chance.

high school sweetheart!kirishima when he gathers the courage to talk to you, his longtime crush.“y/n, can we talk?” mina paused as you started at kirishima, nodding your head sheepishly. you two were somewhat close, talking now and then. in your eyes, his bravery and strength was something to be admired. but more than that, you valued how he treated others. you didn’t feel left out. he made sure you were included, that you felt wanted. you were too scared to make a move, after all, what if he didn’t feel the same and it was just the delusions again?

high school sweetheart!kirishima who is scared of rejection, knowing he’ll always love you. you forgot kirishima was still waiting for your response, shaking your head. kirishima frowned, thinking you shook your head to his question. “ah, no! i didn’t mean it like that,” you rubbed your head nervously. by this time, mina had already sauntered off elsewhere, giving you two some much deserved privacy. there it was again. your subtle, yet adorable movements that made his heart pound. he led you outside of school grounds, leading your soft and delicate hands to a secluded area with a gingham blanket draped over a small patch of grass.

high school sweetheart!kirishima who awaits your response to his (indirect) confession.“y/n, do you trust me?” kirishima asked, the anxiety building up in his chest for years started to swell, just like in a classic rom-com movie you two would often watch together. “do you trust me?” he finally asked. you paused for a moment, racking your brain as you tried to find a proper response. “duh, why wouldn’t i?” you laughed. he turned his head to you as you settled your gaze on the sunset, falling cherry blossoms obscuring your vision before you turned your head towards your (potential) lover. “no, really. i need to know y/n.” at this point, your hands were intertwined with his. you didn’t even realize. it just felt so… so natural. “y/n? how come you’re so quiet? am i saying something wrong, if so i’m really-”

high school sweetheart!kirishima who couldn’t be happier to call you his. “please stop talking, idiot.” your grinned, leaning in for a kiss. before you could, his lips met yours first. for once in his life, kirishima felt that he had a chance. maybe it wasn’t as grand as becoming a pro hero, but beautiful moments like these were something he would cherish forever. his slightly grown out red hair brushed against your collarbone. you leaned it for another kiss. “greedy, are we princess?” he laughed, matching your bright personality he adored so much. “shut up and kiss me. i’ve been waiting so long for this moment…” you playfully nudge him on the shoulder. “why wouldn’t i? sweetheart.”

note: this is def a story you told your grandkids! >_<

[scared-of-relationship]

The World 5 Headcanon - Blue Lock

Took me a while on World 5 one because nothing about them is sfw headcan- I mean, it took me A WHILE because I actually need to re-read more about them hehehe

Cw: Reader considered fem on Leonardo Luna, sorry~

> Leonardo Luna

May I preach before I start? Thank you.

There's a HIGH CHANCE that he did NOT realize the way he talks may hurt/offend others. Like genuinely. (check chapter 90 slowly)

I think in this case, you or anyone near him have to tell him to stop (like Loki did), or maybe tell him that things he say may hurt/offend others.

He may not wanna accept what he said does, or he might he in denial, but if you're close enough with him, surely he'll listen.

No, he is NOT and WILL NOT do something againts your will. Sorry I have to bring this up, because the amount of fanfic I've read on him in Ao3 that makes him a literal 🍇ist is INSANE.

He enjoys, and he will take you to fancy expensive dinner for first date.

He likes eat anything that blends well with wine.

He like eat anything with wine as beverage.

He's a very wine person.

He enjoy introducing you to a lot of things in Spain. Like the dances, food, culture, though he doesn't give you high hopes that Spain is the same as the old Spain we know with bull and all, he still enjoy introducing part of him to you :')

Is he a jerk? Yeah, you can SENSE that from miles away. But is he a jerk to you? No, he's quite the gentleman.

And you'll come to notice he's a gentleman to woman that is... Well that deserves that kind of treatment.

By that, I mean, he doesn't look like a man who fond of woman who's a mess. By that, I mean, he seem to have a type in woman who looks... Genuinely, sophisticated.

He has also has a type in woman who doesn't like him. "I like the thrill" he said, until he genuinely didn't even get a date with that woman. (That woman ended up dating Dada Silva)

Will he have a committed relationship with someone soon? Well he definitely has a committed relationship with Football. Hehe

I mean, he will have a relationship that he will keep for the rest of his life, but at 26? I don't think so, at 30 however? He will, possible chance he would.

He is... It's really easy for him to show or express his feelings.

But it's never genuine, or at least to him. He never really tell anyone how he felt, until you.

And, for some reason you always know when he lie about the way he feel.

Maybe he is used to... Please everyone with the way he talk or feel.

And his sarcastic remark, its his way of keeping him safe. He is so used to do that, it become his personality.

> Adam Blake

Oh boy, Adam Blake.

Man, this man holding me on choke hold- by that I mean literally.

Is he bisexual? I'm not sure, he probably has been... Question that himself.

Aren't we all hate this jerk? Yeah, well I don't!

Trust me guys, he is actually quite a softie on the inside~

Tease him a few times, and he'll be flustered mess.

Tease him a few more times and you'll be- [NSFW Content is not Available]

Oh god, where were I... Oh yeah! He is British, like he is CONDENSED British.

He surely enjoys those back bacon, sausages, eggs, fried or grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, black pudding, baked beans, and toast or fried bread. (ty google)

A tea with a splash of milk, remember a SPLASH of milk, not too much, not too little.

He's the type of guy who likes to show off his strengths.

At some point, he would just pick you up, and chuckles as you are sitting on his shoulder and he flex his arms.

Do NOT insult his beard, "It took me so long to grow and kept it this soft."

If you don't like the feeling of beard on you and HE KNEW, oh boy (in Mickey Mouse voice), you must run.

Must I say he is a pain in the ass, arrogant, egoistic jerk when he's in field, but after match he's a huge cat.

Is he a dog person? A cat person? He genuinely don't care, whatever you like, he like.

I genuinely could not NOT see him as a Tsundere (someone who acts cold, blunt or mean to hide their real feelings) .

Unlike Leonardo, it's not easy for him to show his feelings at first, but if you slowly pursue him, he'll soften.

> Dada Silva

SILVA! I'm sorry as an author, I actually have some of [NSFW CONTENT] Idea about him that it drives me to wall.

Anyway, he actually quite gentle and nice guy!

You'd be surprised on how such a softie he is towards you, and kids!

He has such a dad personality too, and he os actually quite a loving person despite being a superstar football player.

He definitely play with Lavinho from time to time. Did you know he ever throw Lavinho across the field for fun. Yeah, for FUN.

He loves to flex his physique, tryna' make sure you know that too lmao.

He'd be those who suddenly pick you up and sit you on his shoulder while he flex his arms.

He's quite cutie when its just you and him.

He's quite loving and caring with you. He enjoy spend time with you.

He's quite a gambler right, so ever since you, he have found a way to reduce his gamble addiction.

By buying you things he thought you'd like. It doesn't matter if you ended up dislike it, to him it felt like a gamble to know whether you like it or not.

Point plus is to get to know you more by things you like and don't.

It fascinates him on how much you enjoy other things than your current job.

He personally isn't used to do other things than his own job, like football. He's been playing that for years it is now hi occupations until god knows when.

So he actually yearns to be good at other things other than football.

And when he met you, he start to enjoy other things than Football.

Things that you enjoy as well, like if you like cooking, he start to enjoy cook and eat whatever you make. You paint? He start to try doing painting even though he ended up making a mess of himself. You enjoy studying? He suddenly enjoy studying anything, as long as its with you.

He quite the romancer, ngl. Like he know damn well how to string your heart to bow and treat you somewhere nice.

> Pablo Cavasoz

This guy quite childish.

Or so you thought! Ha! He is alright actually.

He is quite, okay? Likes yeah he thinks he's pretty, cute and all, but he actually is.

Plus, he is actually quite nice to you.

Not in a weird way to, he likes to share his thoughts with you, he also seem to be comfortable with anyone.

Quite the physical touch, like he need to touch someone after every match, like just hug his teammates, pat their shoulder.

He's actually average height, every male around him is just too tall.

He collect like, Pokémon's plushies for fun.

He will say shit like "Oh yeah so my cuteness jave companions" and you'll go "Whatever you say, sweetheart"

As much as you thought he'd bring the "I'm the cutest football player". He mostly do that to either act cute for fans, or just piss his teammates off.

At this point, his cute acting was so world wide, everyone not surprised he does that, they even would also go along with him and say "Oh yeah, who's the cute little baby~" And it'll just flustered Cavasoz than anything.

I CAN see him being carried around like a sack of potatoes by Silva too.

I also see him as a gamer, I think he's a DOTA player.

Idk he gives me the vibe

Maybe play Final Fantasy too if not busy with his Football career

Could see him being a cat person, and I could also see him as this homebody person at holidays or vacations

Will find your hand attractive for some reason (It's just his way to ask you to caresses him or sumn)

> Julian Loki

Loki's one is already written on the link above. Maybe a little extra about Loki imo:

Between all these four, Loki is the most *sane*

And the most polite (because everyone is older than him)

Cavasoz victim in his way of saying "I'm thinking cutest! Right Loki?" And Loki can't help but nods

Luna's guardian, especially in Japan, just incase he said anything stupid to locals.

Blake's also guardian, because this man is uncontrollable when he's drunk, especially drunk in Japan.

He's thankful that Silva's is the second sane person in the group.

He swear he'll never travel with these best in the world football player. He was thinking everyone who's the best on the world supposed to be sane like him but he's wrong.

© Blue Lock and its characters are created by Muneyuki Kaneshiro and illustrated by Yusuke Nomura. I do not own any rights to the original work; these are all fan-made stories created for entertainment purposes.

[cowboygenesis]

11: super silver haze | kylo ren x reader

part 11 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: TONS of explicit language, loud arguments, smoking (weed) (like, a lot). word count: 6.6k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: holy shit you guys. this was a doozy, but we're finally climbing the precipice and inching toward the long-awaited CLIMAX. literally kicked my feet and giggled writing this, so ya'll. i pray i did this scene the justice it deserves. please let me know what you think, and as always, thank you so much for reading and supporting me ♥

Now Playing: Sunday Sermon - Booker T. & the M.G.'s

The room rolls with warmth, heavy with the scent of grape juice and resin. As you exhale, a thin stream of smoke flows through the dimness, rippling with technicolor.

“And what?” Poe utters lazily as you hand him the joint, his dark waves kept neat with a headband. “ He said no?”

“Dude, are you even listening?” Finn reprimands from the kitchen, shaking a pot against the stove. The smell of artificial butter fills the room, making your mouth water. “He said—”

“Not like this.” you cut your friend off, sinking into your velvet beanbag with an exasperated sigh as you recall those forbidden words. You’re uncertain if it’s sentiment or just the high, but the pit in your stomach makes you nauseated the second you’re reminded of the party.

You flip your head to the side, lazily meeting Poe’s gaze. His lips curl into that usual, half-hearted smile while he ponders your predicament.

“Such a romantic,” he finally shrugs, and you can’t quite tell if he’s being serious or not. His smile drops, and he looks at you in question. “Can I say that?”

You roll your eyes and tug at the strings of your sweatshirt. The broad hood contracts, trapping your scowling face within. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Finn echoes as he reenters the living room, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. He sets it down on the low coffee table before joining you and Poe on the ground. When you peek your nose out to eye the men’s curious faces, you realize you’re not hungry anymore.

“I think I’m over it,” you finally sigh, leaning back against the beanbag as your friends begin shoveling into the kernels.

Poe snorts, chewing thoughtfully as you withdraw from your hood. “You’re absolutely not over it.”

“Uh-huh,” you scoff at his denial, mindlessly taking the joint from Finn’s hand when he passes it your way. Only a charred nub is left, but you bring it to your lips, anyway. As you inhale, you cringe at the heightened burn settling in your throat. “I want to be.”

The man quirks a brow, picking unpopped kernels from his palm and flicking them into the plastic trashcan. “Do you?”

The question settles into your swirling gut like a weight, making you groan in displeasure—because, after all, you don’t know the answer.

After finding out the story behind Sienna, you thought you had it all figured out. Kylo’s arrival, his inexplicable moods, and why he refused to be anything but a massive pain in your ass.

Except you knew that wasn’t all. This innocent crush you developed on your best friend’s older brother eventually blossomed into something completely untameable, and now? You felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You craved the lingering gazes, the teasing, his bold touches. You wanted to be around him, become the object of his attention. But you didn’t love him. It was a strong, terrifying word that neither of you were ready for.

But you did hate him.

You hated how he’d treat you like a confidant, only to pull away just as you found joy in the position. How he smiled so wide, then scowled with twice the force.

You hated how he made you feel wanted, just to choose the other woman.

“When is he moving out, by the way?” Finn pipes up, knocking you out of your rumination. When you turn toward him, he gives you a raised brow. You must have been scowling.

“I don’t know,” you utter quietly, relaxing your expression to calm any suspicion. “He’s not made any progress.”

“Wait,” Poe shakes his head in confusion, leaning over the coffee table to reach for the rolling papers. “Remind me why he’s crashing at yours in the first place?”

You sigh, toying with the beanbag’s loose threads as your friend fills his plastic grinder. “He’s moving. Or, he wants to move.”

“Can’t blame him one bit,” Finn groans, leaning back against the front of the couch. “Can you imagine living with your ex after finding out they cheated? Seeing them every day?”

“It’s so much worse than that,” you explain, earning looks from your two friends. You bite your bottom lip, gaze dropping to your lap. “He walked in on them.”

Finn stops mid-chew, while Poe’s jaw drops in shock. He quirks a brow at you as if disbelieving in the disrespect. “Dude.”

“Yeah, dude,” you laugh joylessly, crossing your arms. The image of Kylo’s sunken features plagues your mind, replaying that same conversation like a hellish mantra. You’re unsure if the pit in your stomach comes from anger or sympathy.

“But, I mean…” Finn trails, scooping another handful of popcorn. “In their own bedroom, too?”

Your lips flatten, glimpsing into the distance mournfully as you nod. The two men shake their heads in joined disbelief.

“Christ,” Poe mutters, continuing with his new joint. “No wonder the guy’s such a jackass.”

“Poe,” Finn reprimands, making his friend raise his hands defensively.

“Sorry, but it’s true!” he utters dramatically, gesturing toward you with bud-stained digits. “No matter how bad you’ve had it, you don’t just… You don’t just get to shove your grief onto other people. That’s not how it works.”

A silence follows, filled only by the muffled sound of 90’s hip-hop emitting from a small JBL speaker.

You want to be mad, but inexplicably, you’re not. The pit in your stomach expands, blooming into something soft around the edges and gooey in the center. You know it’s not hatred.

“Oh, god,” Poe gasps dramatically, making you meet his gaze with confusion. “You don’t blame him.”

Your eyes widen, matching the frustrated scowl lining your features. You shake your head in denial, but it comes a second too late for authenticity. “Poe—”

“I think you might even be empathizing with that motherfucker,” he trails loudly, watching your lips tighten once more. You’ve got nothing to say in defense, and your friend catches onto that immediately with the emerging curl of his mouth. “Holy shit, don’t tell me—”

“Stop,” you groan, rubbing your face into the meat of your palms. “I’m serious, Poe, I can’t handle this shit ri—”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to make any progress,” Finn cuts you off, making the two of you stop your bickering and face him with quirked brows.

You sigh, curbing your frustration before speaking again. “Go on.”

“I think he means that—”

“What I mean,” Finn gruffs out, shooting a sharp scowl toward Poe, “is he wants to stay.”

The latter nods severely, eyes wide as he speaks through a mouthful of kernels. “With you.”

You scoff, head shaking as you scan their expressions. Somehow, the conversation has sobered you up enough to realize they’re not fucking with you.

“Nonsense, I mean—that makes no sense.” you chuckle sardonically, hands twitching at your sides. “Right?”

The two men look at each other knowingly, then you.

“I don’t know,” Finn shrugs, tapping to the rhythm of the song that plays. “He’s hot and stacked. I don’t see how he’d have an issue finding something suitable.”

Poe scoffs, licking the joint shut at last. “I couldn’t couch surf for this long.”

Just as you’re about to speak, Finn cuts him off with a burst of disbelieving chuckles.

“Dude, except you have,” he reprimands. “Remember your Eurotrip? Berlin?”

Poe sucks his cheeks in with a hum, thinking for a moment before facing his friend with a pointed finger. “Don’t talk to me about Berlin.”

You sigh, leaning into your beanbag once more. Your friends’ conversation melts into the background, letting you clear your mind.

“He rejected me,” you finally shrug, voice low. “Plain and simple.”

“In his defence,” Finn purses his lips, placing the plastic bowl to the side. You watch him shift onto the couch, hands locked. “You could interpret those words in a dozen different ways.”

“I haven’t seen him since the party,” you sigh in exasperation, flailing a hand in the air. “He’s completely MIA.”

Poe nods in acknowledgment, placing the filter between his lips and palming the floor for his lighter. The other man focuses on you, eyeing the nervous way you drum your thigh.

“Does Rey know?” he finally questions, making you knit your brows. As if.

“He doesn’t tell Rey anything. When he leaves, it’s a compl—”

“No, I mean,” Finn cuts you off softly, swallowing thickly as he ponders over an appropriate way to address the concern. Poe watches him curiously, burning the tip of the rolling paper off.

“Does Rey know about your…” The man on the couch begins anew, fiddling with his digits. “Problem?”

Poe scoffs between inhales, motioning toward you lazily.

“It’s not a problem, she’s just horny.”

“Ugh,” you scowl, feigning nonchalance as your cheeks burn red at the bold statement. If only it weren’t true. “Stop saying that.”

“What?” he taunts, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he curls his lips into a devilish smirk. “Horny?”

“Alright,” you raise your palms defensively, quickly rocking your way out of the beanbag. As you stand, the two men glance up at you with worry. “I’m out.”

“Hey, I was kidding!” Poe cries out, shuffling to stand up. He does so haphazardly, swearing under his breath as he loses balance and stumbles into Finn’s knee.

“It’s not that,” you explain quietly, the weight of your anxiety knocking all humor out of the situation. “I promised Rey I’d take her suit to dry cleaning. She’s got some company event next week.”

While spending quality time with friends was generally a great way to get over a dumb crush, you suddenly dreaded needing to answer more pressing questions. You needed air, stat.

“Is she out of town?” Finn questions, his sudden interest making you smile joylessly.

“For a few days,” you nod with a shrug. “Seeing family again.”

Poe mutters something under his breath as he finally stumbles upwards, meeting you with a wild grin. “So it’s just you and Kylo at ho—”

“Zip it,” you warn smoothly, pointing a digit his way. “I’m so serious.”

“Alright, alright!” the man raises his hands in a dramatic display of defeat, sighing to steady his posture. His face shifts into something more sympathetic, dark eyebrows high on his forehead. “Want me to drive you?”

“You’d be a health hazard in your current state.” Finn scoffs from the couch, earning a lazy eye roll from his friend.

“At least I have a license.”

“I’ll take the subway,” you reassure with a polite smile, approaching the foyer to grab your jacket from the hangers before another argument erupts. “It’s chill.”

Poe trails after you, one hand in his pocket while the other wields the joint. “Suit yourself, baby.”

You whip your head toward him with furrowed brows and a smile, head tilted as you slide your shoes on. Even in the most off-beat moments, you’re reminded of Kylo Ren. “Is that a Jersey thing?”

Poe quirks a brow, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to interpret a foreign language. “I’m not Jersey.”

You shake your head with a tart chuckle, reaching to pat your friend’s stubble-riddled cheek. You lean back, issuing Finn a quick wave. “See you.”

You hitch your bag on your shoulder and walk out the door, hearing Finn snickering from inside. “Stay safe, you two!”

“Don’t make me come back in there!” you yell back half-heartedly, earning another fit of giggles from the two men before the door finally slams shut.

As you descend the staircase, your smile shifts into a deep frown.

୨ৎ

You watch the pristinely ironed pantsuit with narrowed eyes, peeking at you behind a thin layer of protective plastic. It hangs from the curtain rod, swaying in the soft breeze like a business-casual ghost as you lean your back against the balcony railing.

You inhale the bittersweet resin, letting it warm your lungs before hurling it into a swirl of smoke. The Meters play softly from inside the apartment, elevating your approaching high.

If it were any other circumstances, you’d reprimand yourself for choosing another joint over sobriety. But today was special.

You were mourning the death of your fixation.

On your treacherous way home on the subway, you thought about facing Kylo again. It was there, squeezed between two other passengers at rush hour, that you had reached an epiphany.

Even now, it makes your throat burn with acid as you strain your eyes against the doorway of your home.

While you haven’t seen Kylo in over twenty-four hours, something primal made you feel like the meeting was approaching steadily. Then, once it was time, you’d finally tell him your feelings.

You’d tell Kylo Ren you hated his guts.

You twist around, resting your elbows against the cold balustrade. Your quaint neighborhood lies just below, humming with occasional passersby. In the distance lies the heart of the city, looming brightly over the watercolor-stained horizon.

As you puff smoke through your teeth, the front door clicks open.

Your jaw tightens, eyes wide when you realize you’re left no time to prepare. The sun has just begun to set, meaning he shouldn’t be home for another few hours. You bite worry your lip between your teeth. This wasn’t at all according to—

You hear the rustle of keys being tossed onto the console in the foyer, followed by the deep sigh of a man shedding the weight of the day. He starts with his shoes, shoving them off by the wall. Then comes the hefty leather jacket, tossed haphazardly against the couch’s headrest.

Your eyebrows furrow, fingers curling tightly around the joint as you lift it back to your chapped lips.

Soft, measured footsteps come from the living room.

You exhale, watching the smoke billow into the air against a backdrop of blue and orange. The next breath, you hold.

The footsteps stop at the balcony doorway, replaced by a single, quiet hum. It’s all too familiar, and while you’re severely tempted to face him, you know it’d be a bluff. So you persevere.

“Good evening,” he calls smoothly. You’ve barely gone a day in its absence, yet the sudden reappearance of his hoarse baritone is enough to send a crisp jolt down your spine.

You extend your stiff arms against the balustrade, trying to remain natural in your silence. You think he’ll keep going and make a nasty comment about your half-hearted outfit or your drug habit, but he doesn’t.

Kylo stands there in silence, looming. You imagine he’s leaning against the doorframe with a hellish smirk, awaiting your next move.

But you’re so, so tired of the games. And this time, you want him to know.

“When’d you get so stuck up?” you bark out, head shaking to amp up the hostility.

Naturally, Kylo chuckles at your antics. The low, reverberating sound heats your skin and boils your blood, until you realize what you had planned to do.

Just as you’re about to twist toward him, the footsteps pick up again. You still in place, breath quickened as you feel his presence loom over your flank in a few, short strides.

You force your head forward, deliberately dodging his gaze when he arrives in your peripheral. Despite the blurry image, your heart thrums at the umber silhouette framing his porcelain mein.

Your nostrils flare as he leans against the balustrade, matching your position while maintaining an appropriate distance. Somehow, that very fact makes you all the more frustrated with him.

Pine fills your nose, and you clench your jaw. Instantly, your fog-addled brain is flooded by visions of the sidewalk, a half-finished bottle of whiskey, and Kylo’s lips so achingly close to yours.

And then comes the aftermath, with Sienna’s vixen smile and Kylo’s dreadful rejection. For a moment, you think you might hurl. That ought to prove a point, at least.

Then, you feel something brush against your knuckles. The movement is brief, and before you can turn to look, Kylo’s picking the joint from your fingers.

You whip your head toward him, breath catching in your throat at the sight.

The joint hangs loosely from his plush lips, trapped behind a bittersweet smile. The ember glows as he inhales, cheeks hollowing to drag the smoke out. His eyes remain locked on yours like two dark pools of oblivion, flickering over your face before he exhales. The scent of burnt resin and pine tar lingers in your nose, its warmth hitting you like a sly taunt.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I don’t remember offering.”

Kylo hums, tipping his head back.

“Are you avoiding me?” Kylo questions instead, his tone low and devoid of substance. Your eyes roll at the implication, already exhausted at having the blame pinned on you. If you knew better, you’d tear the joint from his hand, tell him to fuck off, and storm off—but instead, you dig your nails into your palms with a labored huff.

“Avoiding you?” you scoff as a trickling burn settles in your chest. “Some nerve you’ve got.”

He takes another long drag before passing the joint back to you. You take it from his hand slowly, prudent enough to keep a distance.

As you place the filter between your lips, you realize it’s still moist. You know you shouldn’t lose your mind over such a meaningless, juvenile thing, but the sensation makes you tense your abs with something indescribable.

“So you aren’t?” the man continues, and you sigh. Even if he’s just asking to torment you, you know that the quickest way out is through.

“No,” you mumble lowly, settling your gaze into the distance without a particle focus. “I’m not.”

Your answer is stern and simple, but seems to satisfy Kylo just enough for him to hum in acknowledgment. You feel him shuffle at your side, shifting his weight deeper against the balustrade.

“Are you upset with me?”

“You sound like a needy child,” you scoff again, but his question gets you thinking. While you wouldn’t use that particular word to describe your severely complex feelings toward Kylo, it’s a good place to start. “I’m always upset with you.”

He hums again, craning his neck to look at you. “Why?”

His voice is flat but not as empty as before. The lack of his usual dry humor lacing the edges makes you feel like there’s a semblance of authenticity to the question, yet you can’t bring yourself to give him that same courtesy.

Your eyes flicker toward him, taking in his lazy smile and lax eyebrows. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

He scoffs this time, nostrils flaring. “I think you like it.”

The accusation, albeit frivolous, carries stones into your stomach. You inhale sharply and turn away again, fists clenched tight as you brace to lie your way out.

“Then you’re wrong.”

Yet again, Kylo doesn’t trail on. The silence stretches taut, pressing against your ribs like a tightening vice. You feel his gaze on you, but he offers little else—no quip, lazy smirks, or lazy provocation. Something in your chest caves at that.

Your jaw clenches, and before you can stop yourself from turning the conversation petty, the words tumble out like sand. “How was it?”

Kylo’s fingers flex against the railing, lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line.

“The party,” you elaborate, pressing harsh emphasis on the words. You can’t hide the bitterness in your voice, no matter how hard you try to fight it. And he notices.

“Why are you asking?” he shifts toward you.

Your stomach shifts at his bellicose nonchalance, voice snappy when it comes. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, head steady as he fervently chases your gaze. You don’t give in, so he continues. “Maybe because you enjoy torturing yourself.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, finally shifting your attention toward him. As usual, there’s little for you to go off besides the occasional twitch of his lips. “Just drop the games.”

He huffs, inching his gaze away momentarily. You watch his lips tighten, and he finally faces you with a frown. “Is this about—”

“Why’d you say that?” you cut off, but the regret settles in almost immediately. Your nails dig into your palms, eyes narrowed as you curse yourself for following your curiosity. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“What?” he questions quietly, slowly, like he’s giving you a way out. And despite everything you’ve sworn yourself to abandon, the next words fall from your lips unprompted.

“On the curb,” you croak, feeling your throat run dry. You’re unsure if it’s the weed or the bubbling whine threatening to rise to your mouth. “Why’d you say that?”

His breath is shallow like he’s just taken a hit to the ribs. His knuckles are white where they grip the railing, and for a second, you think you see something split behind his eyes. But it’s gone in a blink, swallowed up by that same infuriating restraint he’s been showcasing since the dawn of his arrival.

Your chest rises and falls, your own breath just as unsteady. The night air feels suffocating now, dense with the buzz of tension that’s been meandering between you for far too long.

"Say something," you demand, voice sharp and crackling.

Kylo shakes his head, bringing a palm up to rub his face. His eyebrows furrow microscopically, leaving small divots in his pale forehead.

“You were drunk.”

Your throat tightens, a bitter smile emerging at the curve of your lips. “And you weren’t?”

He doesn’t need to answer. Kylo had been drinking, sure, but not like you—not in a way that made his actions foggy or excusable. He had been coherent, steady, and calculating as always; whatever happened that night hadn’t been a mistake of impulse. There was no convenient excuse, no haze of intoxication for him to hide behind like you have.

And the worst part? He didn’t owe you anything. He never had.

“Not like you,” he mutters. His chin drops, gaze flickering downward like he can’t fully bring himself to look at you, as if facing your expression might be worse than whatever this is simmering between you.

A shaky breath flutters past your lips as you stare at him, blinking against the strain plowing through your chest.

In some perfect, utopian world, this would be comfortable. You’d get a clean rejection—a firm: ‘No, it meant nothing’, and that would be that. You’d nod, finish your joint on the balcony, then disappear into your room to cry for a reasonable amount of time for someone grieving their heartbreak. Kylo wouldn’t follow.

Things would settle—return to normal.

Or at least, as normal as they were before any of this ever saw the light of day.

But as you watch him now, your stomach knots with something sharp and agonizing curling beneath your ribs. Your eyes track over the little scar beneath his eyebrow, the dim smudge of stubble along his jaw, and the way his hair falls in reckless waves you want to touch, if only to see if they’re as soft as you’ve always imagined.

This is your moment. Your chance to let it die here and pretend none of it ever mattered.

And yet your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to move like it did. The words slip out before you can stop them.

“And if I wasn’t drunk?”

Kylo turns toward you, his expression breaking open with the first raw reaction you’ve seen from him all evening. His brows twitch upward, eyes widening just slightly at the bluntness of your words.

“What?”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, inhaling deeply. The joint in your fingers has nearly burned itself out, forgotten in the poundage of your conversation. A trim loss in the grand scheme of things, you think.

“If I wasn’t drunk that night,” you repeat, voice enduring despite the wildfire bursting in your stomach. Every syllable is carefully weighed before you release it into the air between you, smoke curling from your lips as you watch Kylo’s countenance flicker between flippant, indistinguishable emotions. “Would you have done it?”

Finally, you’d learn whether Kylo Ren’s glances, touches, and his infuriating, insufferable behavior toward you had ever held any merit. If you’re particularly unlucky, he’ll return your advances. You’re unsure of what happens, then.

You stare into each other silently, breaths mingling. Anxiety prickles your stomach, coursing through your veins like a silent harbinger of doom.

Kylo’s eyes darken, filling with something you can’t fully interpret, before they inexplicably narrow with scorn. You taste bile.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Your stomach drops.

You think it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Kylo’s always been a bastard with cruel words, knowing exactly where to stick the knife to make it bleed the longest; yet something about this particular dismissal feels like a death toll.

The pang in your chest weaves through your lungs, squeezing and tugging like a serpent. A scoff tumbles past your lips before you can stop it. You lower your head, shielding your eyes before they can betray your falsified mein. “Right.”

You hear the sharp exhale he lets out at your tone, stepping from one foot to the other. When you finally glance up, his face is turned toward the horizon, the ascending evening sky casting its glow over his features. Warm, golden hues spill across the sharp planes of his face, bathing him in the coming of spring. Your heart swells.

And somehow, it’s that quiet pang of adoration that sets you off most.

Without another word, you pluck the spent joint from your fingers, flicking it into the plastic cup on the table.

“Is it because of her?” you ask steadily, watching the ember fizzle out in the shallow pool of water.

Kylo stiffens at the sharp edge in your voice, his jaw tightening as he angles his head toward the sky. You watch the muscles in his throat shift as he swallows thickly, face cast in light and shadow.

“No,” he finally croaks out, voice low and treacherous as your heart threatens to give out. “No—No, I was—”

“Then why?” You cut him off impatiently, voice breaking under the heavy weight of his ignorance. Pulled in too many directions at once, your chest aches with the pressure pulse of a frenzied drum against your ribs. “Why do you keep doing this?”

Kylo inhales sharply through his nose, fingers clenching into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze locked somewhere in the distance, and judging by the way his nostrils flare, you know he’s just as furious as you are.

“It’s complicated.”

A bitter, disbelieving laugh bubbles up from your throat at the banal excuse. “Why? It doesn’t have—”

“But it is.” his voice is unyielding now, laced with a cold that prickles your skin.

You watch him with parted lips, his eyes flickering over your features with something you pray isn’t contempt.

He huffs, leaning his stiff shoulders against the railing.

“You don’t fucking know me.”

The words punch the air from your lungs, making you inhale sharply. You swallow, trying to fight the emerging sting behind your eyes as the self-pity within you shifts into a trembling fire of disdain.

"I just want the truth,” you mumble, voice flattening with impatience.

He looks at you with curiosity, but the tone of his reply simmers with an undeniable edge of contempt. "I gave you the truth."

"No,” you reply through a joyless chuckle, head shaking at his apparent stupor, “you gave me scraps. You gave me riddles and half-answers and the bare fucking minimum."

You watch his lips press together, eyes unmoving as a looming shadow. His secrecy has always driven you mad, but now? It feels like you’re at your wit’s end.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his dark curls. They cascade down his neck, a stray lock falling into his face to frame the acerbity of his mein. "I told you it's complicated."

Your stomach twists, urging you to push harder. He wouldn’t get to play with you like that without a proper explanation, even if it meant the end of your non-friendship.

"Bullshit!” you hiss, voice laced with venom and an essence of doubt. You pause for a beat, surveying him through half-lidded eyes and taking in the lackluster expression painting his face. Your forehead pulsates. “You’re a coward, Ren."

His eyes snap to yours, dark and perilous at your daring proclamation. He scavenges your body from head to toe, sizing you up like a predator does his prey.

"Careful."

"Or what?" you spit through a scoff, pushing off the balustrade and raising your arms in a losing battle. "You’ll push me away?”

His jaw clenches. You catch his nostrils flare, fingers twitching.

“Because news flash, Kylo.” you trail bitterly, voice edging toward a strained yell. He watches you with surprising patience, dark pupils mirroring the brilliant sky. “You already fucking did."

His throat bobs as he swallows, body going wooden like he’s pushing himself to keep still. His fingers twitch again—like he wants to grab you, shake you, do something to break this damned tension once and for all.

Instead, he lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You act like I had a choice.”

Your jaw tightens, watching him with utter incredulity. While your belly rumbles with anger, you know that to a certain extent, you can’t deny his words. You don’t know much beyond the fact that he was cheated on and forced to live with his estranged sister. You’ve never known the details of his situation, or what keeps him coming back to the woman who irrevocably betrayed his trust.

He’s right.

You don’t know him.

Yet, that can’t keep you from probing for answers.

“Didn’t you?” you utter breathlessly, making his lip curl just enough to infuriate you further. He shakes his head, shooting you a cold scowl.

“Right, of course,” he scoffs, folding his arms as he faces you, “You know everything.”

You exhale in disbelief, planting your fists against your hips. “I know enough to know you’re being a fucking idiot about this.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, looking off to the side like he’s trying to physically restrain himself from saying something much worse. “Sure you do.”

“Oh, fuck off, Kylo,” your laugh is sharp and humorless when it leaves your lips. “You love talking in circles, don’t you? Like if you’re vague enough, you can get away with whatever the fuck you want.”

He finally turns back to you, empty expression betraying his otherwise razor-sharp tone. “God, why do you have to make everything about yourself?!”

Your arms drop to your sides as a sore chuckle escapes your throat. “Right. Because this has nothing to do with me.”

He shakes his head wildly, regurgitating a strained, joyless chuckle amidst the spread of his arms. “No! It really doesn’t!”

Your mouth cracks open at his careless expression, tone dropping an octave in a challenge. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he continues asceribly, shifting side to side. “You’re always so fucking dramatic. Not everything is about you and yours! And—and if you’d just—”

“Oh, I’m dramatic?” Your voice pitches higher as you gesture wildly between the two of you. “You’re the one who starts shit and then gets pissed when I have the nerve to bite back!”

Kylo’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his patience wearing thin with every word you utter. You hear him mumble something before facing you with a strained gust. His sudden calmness scares you more than the initial storm.

“I start shit?”

Kylo takes a step forward, and instinctively, you take one back. You can feel the cool metal of the balcony railing pressing into your lower back, but you refuse to let that stop you. You wouldn’t back down from this, even if it meant getting your ass handed to you.

You cross your arms over your chest, chin lifting defiantly. “Yes, Kylo. You do.”

His eyes flicker over your stance, his lips twitching slightly like he’s resisting the urge to smirk—like this is all just some fucking game to him, while you’re over the precipice of losing your mind.

“You always do.”

He cocks his head, expression flat but demanding. The sardonic smirk emerging at the corners of his lips is hilariously ironic, like he’s proving your point without trying.

“Anything else?” he huffs with fabricated lethargy, striking you with a sharp glare.

Oh, fuck no.

Your breath shudders as the turmoil bubbles over, burning your throat as the words spill out.

“Yeah.” You exhale sharply, hands clenching into tight fists, though you’ve got nothing. Your body trembles with adrenaline, urging you to spit acid in any way you can. “Would it kill you to treat me with human decency?”

Kylo scoffs loudly, tilting his head back like the idea alone is too much for him to entertain.

“Right.” He takes another step closer, eyes hooded. “Because you’re such a sweet, innocent angel.”

Despite the venom lacing his tone, his choice of words makes your thighs squeeze. It’s an instinctive reaction that makes you shake your head, lips parting in utter disbelief.

“At least I try.” Your voice is sharp, eyes burning into his. You push forward, ignoring the heat rising in your body. “But—but every time I want to be a friend, you—”

“God—Will you fucking stop that for once?” Kylo snaps, cutting you off with harsh, unfriendly laughter.

Your brows knit together, lips hanging ajar at his hasty defiance. Your eyes scan across his features, taking in the odd glint in his eyes. Everything around you simmers with heat.

“What?”

He shakes his head incredulously, raking a hand through his hair again. When he speaks, his voice is tighter than ever, loud and final like a stray bullet.

“Trying—trying to act like we’re fucking friends.” He gestures vaguely between you, devoid of tenderness. He meets your gaze, eyebrows low on his forehead as he hisses your name. “We’re not friends. Never will be. At best, we tolerate each other, and even that comes with its shitty fucking surprises.”

Your heart slams in your chest, pulsating in your ears. Your mouth moves before your brain has the chance to catch up, filling the buzz of your sermon with unforgiving bite.

“God forbid someone gives a shit about you.”

Kylo’s expression blackens. His whole body stiffens a margin, towering above you like a rage-filled statue splayed in hues of orange and red. His scowl says it all. You know you’ve hit a nerve before he even utters.

But then he leans in, barking through gritted teeth and a labored breath:

“I don’t fucking need you to.”

Your breath catches harshly, scraping your vocal cords. You force yourself to hold his gaze. Heat and electricity simmer between you, raising the thin hairs at the back of your neck.

You moisten your lips, meeting the man’s gaze with half-lidded eyes. Pressure builds within your chest, fluttering through your arms and legs like a powerful, undeniable current.

“Good,” you start quietly, toying an ill-tempered smile against your lips, “Because I don’t.”

You take a step forward, straightening your back and sizing him up. He watches keenly, nostrils flaring as you poke a digit into the firm plane of his ribs. Kylo’s breath stutters, his chest rising and falling in quick, erratic beats.

You lean in, your voice faint, razor-thin, and laced with a fatal malignancy.

“I fucking hate you, Ben.”

Birds cry into the setting sun, cars honking in the distance while Shuggie Otis croons through the speakers inside. A soft spring breeze blows through the balcony, tousling Kylo’s dark locks as he peeks at you through dark lashes.

A bitter smile curves at the edge of his mouth, taunting you as always.

“Say it again.” He murmurs, unhurried and nearly cruel.

Your pulse slams against your ribs, matching the beat of percussion. His eyes are locked onto yours, dark and penetrating with this simple, impossible dare.

You swallow thickly, shifting your digit into a full palm. It lingers against his chest, sinking into the rhythmic thrum as you furrow your brows, bearing a fearless step closer.

You flare your nostrils, pushing up slightly onto your toes.

“Kylo,” you trail quietly, his breath hot and moist on your cheeks. You part your lips, trembling, preparing to nail the coffin shut forever under the slow, percolating flicker of his eyes as they survey your eyes, cheeks, the parting of your lips.

He hums. Your heart roars beneath your ribs, pleading in agony.

“I hate y—”

Kylo’s lips crash hungrily onto yours.

His hands gently clamp around your jaw, fingers threading into your scalp as his mouth slants over yours for easier access. The air between you vanishes, swallowed by the sharp, heady collision of lips and teeth scraping in a desperate dance.

The taste of him floods your senses with resin, smoke, and something hauntingly sweet and tender that you lap up with discomfiting greed. He nips at your bottom lip, pulling and kissing.

Your fingers curl into the soft fabric of his shirt instinctively, nails scraping against his chest as you push up against him—desperate and thoroughly enraged at the audacity of his measures.

A groan tumbles deep within his throat, low and sultry as it vibrates against your tongue. His grip tightens, pulling and all-consuming, like he wants nothing more than to brand you with his touch.

And for a moment, you think you’ll let him.

“Kylo,” you mewl, feeling his large hands roam over your cheek and neck. It snakes to your waist, inching under your tank top and splaying over the small of your back.

“Shh,” he hushes, his mouth sloppily ghosting along your jaw, then down the column of your throat. His teeth graze against your skin, lips chasing the mark with something almost worshipful. His palm slides higher beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing your ribcage, coaxing a shudder from your body as he holds you tightly against the railing.

You whimper softly, throwing an arm around his neck and leaning your head back to grant him access.

You should stop this, you think—push him away. But instead, your fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, greedily wanting to feel more of him.

Until something shifts.

You’re caught up with his hold on you; like a porcelain doll, delicate and too precious to allow a break. His breath stutters when his lips brush over your pulse like he’s breathing new life, unraveling something irrevocably powerful.

It feels like giving in.

And suddenly, your resolve crumbles into nothing. Your body washes over with palpitating regret, urging your breath to catch at his tender nipping as he bucks his hips into yours.

Your hands flatten against his chest. “Kylo—”

He slows, lips lingering near your collarbone. His breath is heavy and warm against your skin as you give him a push, eliciting a soft moan from his plush lips.

A second passes. Then another.

He pulls back, dark eyes searching yours, obscured by something mildly animalistic. His grip loosens, sliding away from your body like he’s afraid of what he might do if he lingers.

The space between you stretches with a crackling silence. The city beyond hums with life, but all you can hear are your heavy breaths intermingling, lingering with the taste of each other.

You take a step back. Your throat tightens with the thousand things you want to say.

“I can’t,” is all you can utter, the whisper barely audible over the pounding in your ears.

Kylo exhales sharply, running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. His lips are swollen with the semblance of your kiss, eyes burning with a plunging, living fire that penetrates your heart like hot daggers.

He calls your name. The word is sweet and languid on his tongue, lined with the kind of softness you’ve never been the fortunate prey of. His hand tenses mid-air, fingers flexing at the devastating sight of your gaze sinking away from his.

And then, without another word, you turn and slip inside, leaving him alone in the woeful finale of your favorite song.

[bktempted]

Master's games. He’s got this new rule now, and it’s wormed its way into your brain and your body, turning you into a twitching, needy mess. You can only touch yourself if you’re pleasing him at the same time. It's simple. Hand on your cunt? Your mouth better be wrapped around his cock. Fingers teasing that throbbing ache between your legs? You better be grinding against him like some desperate animal while you do it. No exceptions.

It started simple enough. He’d smirk, lounging back on couch, “Go ahead, pet. You wanna cum? Earn it.” At first, you thought you could outsmart him — play it cool, keep your dignity. But that lasted about a day. Now? Now you’re a fucking wreck, and he knows it. Your clit’s a traitor, pulsing every time he so much as shifts his hips, and your hands itch to dive down your panties the second he’s in the room. But you can’t. Not without him.

Yesterday was the breaking point. You’d been squirming all morning, thighs pressed together so tight it hurt, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your thighs. He was just sitting there, scrolling on his phone, dick half hard in those stupid gray sweats. He knew what he was doing to you. And you snapped. Dropped to your knees right in front of him, voice all shaky and pathetic, “Please, Master, can I… just let me suck you off, I need it, I can’t take it anymore.” He didn’t even look up at first, just raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Go on then.”

So you did. Yanked those sweats down, hands trembling, and took him in your mouth like it was the only thing keeping you sane. Because it was. The second your lips closed around him, hot and heavy on your tongue, you shoved your hand between your legs, fingers slipping against the slick mess you’d been trying to ignore all day. It was instant. Your whole body lit up, a whine bubbling out around his cock as you rubbed yourself stupid, chasing that edge you’d been denied for hours. He groaned, fingers tangling in your hair, and that just made it worse. You were drooling, gagging, a total slut for it, and you didn’t care. All you could think about was how good it felt to finally touch, how his taste was flooding your head, how you’d do anything — anything — to keep this going.

Now it’s a routine. You’re hooked, a junkie for his dick, and he’s loving every second of it. This morning, you woke up already aching, sheets tangled around your legs, and you didn’t even hesitate. Crawled over to him before he was even awake, tugging at his waistband with this pitiful little whimper. “Master, please, I-I need you, I can’t wait.” He cracked one eye open, looking at you like the smug asshole he is, and just nodded. That was it. Permission. You dove in, mouth on him, fingers scrambling to your clit, and it’s like a switch flipped. You’re moaning around him, hips bucking against nothing, so wet it’s dripping down your thighs, and all you can think is how you’re never getting out of this. You don’t want to.

He’s turned you into something unrecognizable. You’ll beg now — fuck, you’ll grovel. Last night, you were on your hands and knees, ass up, practically sobbing, “Let me — just use me, any hole, I’ll be good, I swear.” And he did. Grabbed you by the back of the head, fucked your ass raw while you fumbled with yourself, cumming so hard you nearly blacked out, his cock still twitching inside you. It’s humiliating how much you crave it, how you’ll trade every shred of pride just to feel that rush again.

Today’s no different. You’re pacing, antsy, that dull throb between your legs driving you up the wall. He’s in the kitchen, sipping coffee, like he’s not the reason you’re a walking disaster. You can’t take it anymore. You stumble over, drop to your knees right there on the tile, hands already reaching for his belt. “I-I need it, just a little more, fuck me again, please…” Your voice is a mess, high and frantic, and he just chuckles, setting the mug down.

“Again? You're a greedy little whore,” he says, but there’s no bite to it — just amusement, pride in what he's turned you into.

[hershelwidget]

TWO MORE TO GO

Caleb and Darwin have arrived!

Finished these two in record time! I also had them in more dynamic poses to make up for how out of character the other two were (cough cough Beast)

Caleb possesses the Gup-C, while Darwin has the Gup-D! Much like the two before them, they borrow some design points from their main drivers, but it is a lot less obvious now.

Face closeups!

(oh whoops lmao i didn't think darwin would be so close- ah well)

Next up is Emma and Felix! They will be the last of these for a while... At this rate you'll at LEAST get snippets of Emma's design by the end of the month.. I am struggling very hard with Felix :(

[militaryapple]

I'LL GIVE IT ALL TO YOU.

synopsis. caleb finds out you’re sleeping with other men. other men who look like him. if you wanted him so badly why didn’t you say so? it’s fine, he’ll just fuck the sense back into you.

cw. fem!reader, praise, edging, overstimulating, calebs a big meanie, reader fucks around and finds out, breeding, idk I need him so bad.

add ons. guys I'm so tired OH DONT GAG ME I FORGOT TO FIX THE SYNOPSIS THIS WAS MADE AT LIKE 11 AM BABES

wc. 2.2k

caleb has always had tabs on you. whether you liked it or not. he needed to know what you were doing, who you were with. it was just.. a safety precaution - well that's what he told himself anyways. he knew your friends , the people you worked with , even going as far as learning who your neighbors were. he could only thank his position as the fleet's colonel for letting him get this information. he was originally going to plant a chip in your phone and learn about both your social and personal life but this just made his little watch-sessions a little easier than what they had to be.

and so caleb thought he had nothing to worry about, truly. he knew where you were at all times and have been in your life for a decent amount of time there should be no one new. well - anyone that poses a threat to him anyways. it's not like you could hide anyone from him anyways.

is what he thought, so so foolishly.

it wasn't until you started spending your time at different places. unknown places at that. caleb took note of each and every house you were in. he took note of the people who lived there. man after man after fucking man. he didn't want to think the unthinkable, how you could be so stupidly whoring yourself out for perverts? one night fucking stands? this wasn't like you, far from you. it wasn't until he looked closer at the men you were fucking, and jesus.

they looked somewhat similar to caleb. it only engulfed him with rage. his heart hurting and pounding. if you wanted him so badly why haven't you spoken to him? talked to him? why were you going around trying to find scraps of him while he was already here for you? with you? arms open and ready for you whenever you were ready for him? that's when caleb decided he needed a bit of time off from work.

caleb made his way home. door opening as he scanned the living room for you. he sat down on the couch, still. he was going to talk to you about this little issue you had. it was gonna be fine, right? he talks to you, you tell him and this could all be swept under the rug. it wasn't until hours later, he heard the twist of the door and the creak of it opening.

just like when you both were in high school, every time you snuck out you would try to slip in silently. though you were never really silent, and caleb was the first to catch you back home before gran. what made you think this time would be any different?

he hands clenched as he stood. caleb didn't think about changing out of his uniform, hell he couldn't think about anything. all that filled his mind was anger. pure. fucking. rage.

"welcome home." he said, it was almost bittersweet. you looked at him, with a sheepish smile. waving. "hi caleb, didn't expect you home." was all you were able to muster out, and that was before caleb took a step closer to you. he watched as you twist and turn, looking for an escape. anything to help you leave, but that wasn't happening. not with him. not now.

"where were you?" he asked, his gaze shifting from you to your body. the clothes you wore tolling him more than enough.

"out." you said softly, you gaze averting his. "with a friend."

caleb scoffed, grabbing your arm and pushing you on the couch as he leaned down. you felt like you were being interrogated, which in theory, you were. "bullshit." he snarled. "you wouldn't be out for hours at some 'friend's' house. nonetheless a friend named fucking jacob. do you think I'm dense, pip-squeak?" caleb was angry, his hands balled up. his body shaking. every movement made him want to die, he could smell the foreign musk, the way you attempted to fix your hair. it was the only time he couldn't bear to be near you.

"he looks just like me." he scoffed. "just. like. me." he moved away from you. in a situation like this, you would've blown up at another guy. yelling at him on how he was able to even find out what house you were in, but it was caleb. of course you couldn't hide anything from him. how stupid could you be trying to anyways?

you couldn't say anything, you wouldn't dare. you lowered your head, but caleb wasn't taking that. he grabbed your chin tilting your head upwards to face you. "don't do that pip-squeak. if you wanted me - craved me, fucking needed me , why didn't you say anything? I'm here. in the flesh." his words piercing through you. oh how he hated being mean towards you, your wavering lips was all that he needed to see before he eventually got down. your head lowering so you could make comfortable eye contact with him.

calebs hands moved from your chin to your cheek. "come on pips," he huffed softly. "you're being reckless for no reason. instead, I'll show you how much I want you, how much I missed you, yeah? you don't need those other guys. after all, they can't beat the real thing." he snickered softly, and you could only nod your head in approval.

"ah-ah, say it. I need a verbal answer." caleb wanted to make sure what he was doing was okay, was right. he wanted to make it known that after tonight, there were no more caleb 2.0's. no more 'casual friendship'. that there would be more than what the two of you already had.

"please show me caleb."

he tugged on your skirt, pulling it down your leg as he rubbed small circles on your panties making you groan. he was being mean. really mean. you grabbed his arm, "caleb, don't tease me. your hands are cold - ah, your gloves." you whined. caleb could only chuckle. "you think you can tell me what to do right now baby? really? just shh and enjoy what I'm giving you."

you groaned, he was slow, too slow. your heat dripped as you twitched and squirmed. caleb used his evol to keep you down, leaning in and placing small kisses around you neck. "do you know how long I've had to restrain myself?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"how many times -" kiss. "I've had to get off thinking about you?" kiss. "I've held myself back until you were ready." kiss. "and you've made it so so difficult baby." kiss.

each word sent a shiver down your spine, teasing you and handling you. caleb looked over at you smiling. "i think you're ready, don't you?" he said softly.

caleb leaned in towards your aching cunt. staring at it like he was starving. he grabbed his hat before placing it down on the side of the couch. "grab on my hair if its too much 'kay baby?" he rubbed your thigh. you nodded in agreement as a smirk laid on his face. Caleb dug in. he licked your cunt making you mewl. your hands searched for something, anything to do.

caleb sucked on your pretty clit, groaning as he tasted your sweetness. he used his free hand, making his way up your body. finding your hand and making sure he intertwined both of your fingers.

he was starved. he placed sloppy kissing on your lips. his tongue finding any to go deeper in you. you felt hot, fuzzy. he made you feel so fucking good, other men were useless compared to him. he was right, nothing - nobody compared to how he made you feel.

and right now he was making you feel fucking divine.

the feeling of calebs tongue on your click made you shiver in ecstasy, it wasn't until moments later you used the hand on his head to pull him back. oh did he look absolutely pussy drunk off you.

your juices flowed off his chin while he licked his lips. the way he looked up at you in pure bliss. oh god did you love this man. "you look so cute, and you taste perfect." he said softly, going back and licking the juices he neglected. you shook and grabbed more of his hair.

"caleb 'm gonna -" you whined, bucking your hips up as he used his hand to hold you down. the other still holding your free hand. caleb hummed in approval, giving you the signal that you could finally let out the release you were holding in. caleb suckled for a moment before moving back, admiring the mess he just made of you.

he got up, his evol lifting you as he sat down in the spot you were once in. his legs spread before placing you in between them. his fingers pushing your panties over before they made their way inside your cunt. your hips buckled at the feeling, caleb grabbed your waist with his arm bringing you back down.

"its okay baby, you can take it." he coos "I know you can, 'gotta make sure you can take me , hm?" you moaned as his fingers stretched you. the sensation of his gloves curving as he hit every spot of your gummy walls. you clenched and twitched between him, making him plant soft kisses on your face down to your neck. "cmon you can take it. stay still, if you don't get through this you wont be able to take me." he reassured you. how big was he?

caleb pushed another finger in. hushing you and kissing you while tears strained down your face. oh he was being mean. "caleb - please 'm gonna cum again" you cried. in response he moved his arm that was holding you down. now using one hand to pump his fingers in you and another to move in little swirls on your clit. you throw your head back in pleasure.

"aren't i the best? making you cum twice? jacob couldn't do that, could he now?" he hummed in your ear, you whined in approval. caleb moved his hands out of you. "since I'm feeling generous, I'll let you ride my cock. but in return.." his voice trailing off as he moved his finger to your belly.

"I'm gonna make you into a mother." he coo'd in your ear, nibbling it. "so I can show everyone who you belong to. to show that you don't need other men. I'm here." caleb planted a kiss on the back of your neck.

it didn't take caleb any time before he was unzipping his pants, pulling on the fabrics waist line and pulling out his cock. "I need you to relax for me, you're ready." he said, pulling you up by your hips and straddling you down on his hard on. oh god, did he feel good.

your cunt dripped all over his base. he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "look at you, messy girl. we haven't even started yet you're already dripping all over me." he grunted adjusting himself a little more.

caleb rocked your hips. he whined for you "mhm that's it, work those hips for me." he moaned. he loved the feeling of pumping his inches in and out of you. the 'pop' noise your cunt and his cock made as he slid out and back in.

your cunt was brimmed to the top with cock. so full it made you think of only him and you. fuck, you were lewd. you couldn't even form a sentence, the only sound coming out of your mouth being moans and pants that were increasingly getting faster and faster.

"gonna come again? come on come with me its - ah okay." his voice was raw and rasp. his gloves dug into your skin as you made a mess on both his cock and his uniform. he didn't care, he was going to clean his uniform this week anyways. it was a sign to let people know that he was yours, and you were his.

caleb still fucked you deep. he caused your toes to curl up and your legs to lift to help him massage every part of you. clit and all. he grunted as he slammed into you, his rhythm leaving and now becoming messy thrusts. "I'm gonna come inside baby, okay? yeah? I'm gonna make you a mommy. oh fuck" he groaned.

"gonna make you bear all my children. fuck fuck" his hips stammered. "just me 'n you 'kay?" you clenched down on him. your back arched as your hands made their way to his thighs gripping tightly.

caleb bit down on his lip, not wanting to hurt you. both of your breaths steadying before caleb moved his head in your neck. he didn't dare pull out, all of his sweet cum would leak out, and you wouldn't want that right?

"I told you," he heaved "I'm better then some lousy rip-offs pip-squeak." he panted heavily. you nodded in approval. he knew that you wouldn't go to any more one night stands. still, there was a long way to go. he still hasn't made you a mom.

and he was going to make sure you bore his children.

[muffinlance]

Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.

Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.

---

Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--

Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and

and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.

Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.

Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.

“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”

---

She choose her own.

...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.

Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--

Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.

“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.

The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.

---

He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.

---

“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.

The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.

“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”

Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.

Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.

There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.

He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.

“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”

---

They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--

They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.

And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.

“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”

Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.

---

Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.

---

Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.

---

It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.

Oh. They were going hunting.

“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.

The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.

“I can hunt,” he scowled.

He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.

---

“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.

She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.

“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.

“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”

“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.

“Is it,” said Kanna.

---

Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).

Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.

“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.

“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”

---

Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.

---

Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.

The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.

“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.

“...No.”

“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”

She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.

---

Elsewhere, the war continued.

The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.

The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.

The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.

---

Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.

[pseudowho]

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

[demonic0angel]

Justice League Dark being all worried because an ancient and magically powerful pharaoh is going to awaken to his past life memories soon and could usher in a new age of darkness if he isn't stopped.

Tucker, said pharaoh, gains his past life memories and magical power, and ignores it in favor of continuing his internship at Wayne Tech.

Part 2

Wonder Woman frowned. “What are you saying?”

Constantine growled. “I’m saying that if we don’t find this thing fast…. It could bring in a new age of darkness. And trust me, you don’t want to find out what that could mean.”

Wonder Woman turned to Zatanna. “How dangerous is this thing? And how did this happen?”

Zatanna shook her head, also looking worried and confused. “I’m not entirely sure. However, Constantine and I did some spells and we talked to some other psychics, who have all said the same thing. Someone out there in the world will soon gain their past life’s memories and magical power, and with it, they will have the knowledge and capabilities to bring death and chaos to this world. We need to stop them.”

Wonder Woman nodded. “Tell me what we need to do. We must stop this person before anything could happen!”

————

“Wait, but didn’t we already know that you’re the reincarnation of a past pharaoh?” Danny said, staring at him in bafflement through the screen. “This isn’t anything new.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “I know! Like damn, couldn’t I have given these powers in high school?”

“Still wouldn’t get bitches though,” Sam said dryly, not even looking up from where she was trimming her plants.

“Hey!” Tucker complained.

Danny smirked. “Maybe you could say he’s a…. Late bloomer?”

He chortled as they both groaned. Sam picked up her flowers and placed them under her desk to protect them from Danny’s awful puns with a shake of her head. Tucker just gave a long sigh.

Tucker was sullen. “I mean… it’s cool and all, but I don’t need them, y’know? And for some reason, I have voices in my head telling me to start the apocalypse now.”

Sam and Danny stared at him with varying degrees of unimpressed and concern. “Well? Are you?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tucker snorted. “Hell no. You know how much I get paid at Wayne Enterprises? I get paid buckets for only an hour a day to write up some software and then I can spend the rest of the time on games. There’s no way I’m going to waste my time on Armageddon when I can make money.”

Danny beamed. “That’s the spirit! Do you want me to come over to exorcise the voices in your head? They’re probably like… ghosts or something, right?”

“Nah, it’s alright. Jazz is going to come over to help. And if it’s insanity from drinking Gotham water, then she’s definitely more qualified than you guys.”

Danny nodded. “Makes sense.”

Sam chuckled to herself. “Who knew that the world could be saved with a billionaire’s money? Oh, wait, I did because—!”

Both boys groaned and settled in for another rant about the ethics of billionaires. Not that they disagreed, but still.