#blank tag to keep out of searches

[adieutristana]

Hi hi hi! Was wondering if you could do a jinx x reader fic where instead of ekko saving her from blowing herself up it was the reader

Tyy <333

of course! thank you for the request <3

two out of three finals knocked out, then one more tomorrow and im free 💔

summary: fem! reader saves jinx from blowing herself up.

characters included: jinx

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation, mentions of poor mental health, s2 spoilers, (some) fluff at the end, reader does not have ekko's time traveling skills (sorry)

men dni.

jinx stands on a ledge, dark tears staining her pale cheeks. long, blue braids gone. her shoes taken away, nail beds raw. she stands, with one of her own bombs, pulling at the safety pin. testing her own fate with each pull growing stronger and stronger.

pulling, pulling, pulling.

until she hears your footsteps, slowly looking over her shoulder. jinx looks through you, her eyes so utterly blank and dull. she looks so… defeated. she’s out of energy and out of resolve. she doesn’t say anything to you, though, only turns back to the bomb in her hands. pulling the pin one more time-

until you wordlessly sprint towards her, throwing your arms around her in a way that miraculously didn’t throw her off her balance. clasping both hands over hers, physically restraining her from putting the bomb to use.

“please, jinx, can we talk about this?”

you plead, your eyes desperately searching for any kind of reason. her eyes are downcast, her face relaxed. too relaxed. her voice comes out in a soft yet exhausted whisper.

“leave me alone, (y/n).”

“no.”

jinx tries to wriggle her hands out of your grasp, her shoulders thrashing with the movements and face contorting. she’s impatient. she wants to do this and get it over with.

“you’re too late.”

she says, still trying to escape your hold. still grasping her bomb, desperately trying to find any kind of purchase. anything. she’s given up, she’s done. there isn’t a point.

“too late for what?”

you gasp, now in a full wrestle with your girlfriend. wrapped around jinx from behind, your hands over hers, sharp nails scratching your skin and jinx writhing. grunting. she’s so frustrated yet so empty, and it makes your heart ache inside your chest. with the loss of isha, being thrown in jail, losing almost everyone she had… you understood jinx. finding motivation to keep living was already difficult enough for her, but almost all of those things had been ripped away from her.

it rips you into pieces seeing your girlfriend like this. you’ve seen it all: her breakdowns. screaming and crying because voices and hallucinations won’t leave her alone. her trying to act as if she doesn’t care when she gets blown off by her sister. coming home with bruises and cuts from god knows where after a mission, or even worse, coming home an inch from death. but never have you seen jinx like this.

jinx’s knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, but your grasp is still strong.

“drop it, jinx.”

“no.”

“drop it.”

and to your surprise, she does drop it. you hoped to whatever was out there that this was the end of it, that she would give up. she would go home with you and finally tell you exactly what brought her to this point. stationery, the bomb falls on the floor, rolling away from the both of you and jinx staying in that kneeling position.

until she doesn’t.

“i’m tired of talking.”

she mutters under her breath, making her way to a ledge without so much as looking back at you. your senses are blown into full panic mode as you spring to your feet to sprint towards her, reaching for her braids to restrain her from stepping over- but they’re gone. your hand shot to the clasp of her top. holding jinx in place as if her life depended on it, probably because it did.

“jinx, baby, please. i know that things have been hard, you’re not happy. but you have to stay alive. for me, if nothing or nobody else. please.”

you plead. you circle jinx to stand in front of her, placing your hands on her shoulders gently. almost afraid that she’ll break if you handle her too harshly, especially after just restraining her to stop her from killing herself. your eyes are filled with tears just waiting to spill, your lips pressed into a thin line. and then you feel jinx begin to tremble.

like a bridge that's lost its foundation, shaking and threatening to combust. her breathing is getting quicker, her eyes are darting from place to place to place, but never once settling on you.

"jinx."

you squeeze her shoulders, looking into her eyes, desperately trying to get through to your girlfriend. there has to be something you can do, surely. how come nothing is working? you've already pulled out all of the stops, what more could you do? what, if anything, would be successful? the tears in your eyes spill over, but you don't make any sound. you can't. you have to hold it together for jinx's sake.

jinx swallows tentatively. quivering.

"i... i can't do this anymore."

"of course you can," you whisper. reaching up to cup one of her cheeks with your hand, but she jerks away.

"everyone i get close to dies. or they leave. mylo, claggor, vander, isha... will you be next?"

she asks, finally locking eyes with you. it's clear that it's a rhetorical question- jinx doesn't want an answer. she wouldn't be able to handle an answer, not right now.

“no. no. i’m not leaving, jinx- and i don’t plan on dying any time soon. please, listen to me.”

you beg her, still looking into her eyes, half-lidded and glowing pink. one hand coming up to try and cup jinx’s cheek again, and this time, she allows it. this is a good sign. you’re getting somewhere.

“i have to break the cycle. i have to do something to fix all of this,” she says. “i’ve done so much i can’t come back from. what else is there to do?”

“walk away.” you whisper.

“what?”

“walk away. you don’t need to die, jinx, walk away. go somewhere. take me with you. you can still break the cycle without doing this.”

your thumb is brushing her cheek, your own cheeks stained with dried tears.

“what is your death going to fix? if anything, it’ll cause more pain. zaun will be fine if you walk away, but could you imagine what would happen if you died?”

jinx looks down, and another tear falls from your eye.

“please, you have to stay. i’ll come with you. i’ll do anything. just please, baby, don’t die. i don’t know what i would do with myself if you did.”

you plead with jinx. desperation is obvious in your tone, her jaw quivering, threatening to cry herself. she’s spent.

you feel jinx’s hand slowly, hesitantly coming to rest atop yours on her cheek, and all she does is nod. slowly.

“let’s go home.”

you whisper, brushing a lock of hair from out of her eyes.

“what do i do from here?”

jinx asks, her voice low and unsure.

“we’ll figure something out. i promise.”

[ziminy]

I'll follow you until you love me

Having actor Gojo as your fan isn't for the weak

Tags: smut, mdni, f!actress reader, actor!Gojo, dark themed, stalking, obsession, jealousy, fan boy Gojo, mind games, lots of lies, manipulation, panties stealing, making out, fingering, oral (f receiving), drunk s(e)x, dubious content, people are shipping you and Gojo, fear play, just me going over the top again,

Author's note: thank you for 100 flowers 🤗 I been working on this fic for a while and was waiting for a specific occasion to post it.

Masterlist

The first time Gojo Satoru heard about you was a long time ago. He doesn't really remembers the details but he knows he was so done with hearing about you left and right.

Everybody was praising this new actor who appeared out of a blue, and it was getting on his nerves.

Nothing was known about you, you had no connections to the inside world, your name wasn't affiliated with any big names. It was like you were put on the big screen out of nowhere and lend a big role like the director was forced to.

And his feelings only got bitter the moment he met you in person. Walking into his set one day and greeting everyone left and right, remembering names of some crew members he didn't knew they even existed to begin with.

But the cherry on top was when the director, that was known for being a bit too eccentric, presented you with the biggest smile on. Praising you and talking about how the day is so much better with you there. And you, instead of trying to show off, being humble.

He didn't like it. The way you looked so sweet, how you would laugh at the poorly made jokes and how you left just as soon as you appeared, giving him no chance to actually learn something about you. But he does remember how you promised to buy everybody a drink next time you pass by and how you look forward to his movie.

Another one of his fans? Huh? He thought, being disappointed that you'd be much more easier than he hoped.

But he only ended up being disappointed once again, because a week later you appeared on his set one more time. This time with drinks just as you promised, and the biggest smile on your face talking about the role you're auditioning for and how the set is closer to his. Well, you weren't talking to him directly, but the director. But since you were on his movie set you were practically sets neighbors.

Full of himself, he went to you, expecting you to be excited and faint just from seeing him, since you said you were a fan. But instead you looked at him the way you looked at everybody else, the same business smile on that was basically your free pass card in life. Refusing his invitation to drink with him tonight, talking about keeping it professional and how you don't dare to accept since you respect him too much. Fearing that you might do something that would embarrass yourself in front of him.

It was a lie, he quickly noticed the way your face change as you left with your assistant. A blank expression on your face, that smile disappearing, not having to put an act on as you thought no one saw you. But he did, and it got him thinking, spending the next few days searching and looking at any media form that haves your name on it.

Were you actually pretending? Was everybody's sweetheart actually a liar? Did he actually found dirt on you? What is he going to do with this information? Surely you don't want everybody to know about about it, right?

But when he thought he had you, a scandal with your name all over it was the only thing everybody was talking about. How your company was mistreating you and how you finally managed to break ties with them. And it didn't helped that everybody on his set was whining about you not asking for help, and how they noticed your sudden demeanor but didn't said a thing.

Now you had people fighting over you to join entertainment companies. Biggest names arguing about which one was better for you, you even had his company begging you to join them. And now he was stuck with hearing your name once again.

It didn't stopped any time soon, because somehow, miraculously, you decided to sign a contract with his company.

It was like you decided to torture him, play with his mind and lead him on even if you clearly set some boundaries between the two of you. Were you playing hard to get? Because after all those nights awake he learned that you didn't get involved with anyone in the industry. You refused executives after executives, big actors and renowned directors. You would rather get banned from the industry than being known for giving any kind of services or being known as someone's partner.

He didn't knew if he was supposed to be proud or get mad at how stupid you were acting.

But it got him even more invested. And now you had him watching every single thing you appeared in. It could be a small role, you could just appear in the background for a second and he'll memorize the entire movie.

Soon he got bored of that, and he moved into interviews, appearances or just people speculations, the nda you sign or make people sign. He still remembers about that time you got a nobody as your partner and kept him around for a few months. Even so, it didn't changed a thing about his interest in you.

His room was filled with you, pictures, posters, stuff from movies you acted in. His whole house was like this in fact. His closet filled with stuff you wore, you could even find the same products you use in his bathroom.

And the less attention you pay him, the more obsessed he became. Spraying his bed with your perfume every time you went on a date with your little nobodies, sometimes even asking people from your sets about you, not daring to get to close to you so you won't acknowledge him, even if he's dying to get your attention.

Imagine his surprise when you first acted in the same thing. Well, not really because he auditioned for the same movie as you, trying for a role that had it's screentime at the same time as yours. But he didn't really expect to get it. Oh who is he lying to? He called the director and demanded to play by your side, talking about how he wants to try new things and putting a act on so nobody would rat him out.

Just as soon as the roles were revealed to the public, he even hired a few people to post about the two of you online. But he did got hit by surprise from the amount of people that actually shipped you two. It got him giggling and kicking his feet, staying up and reading comments about how you looked together.

And you seemed to feed into fans delusions, interacting with him more and putting on a more friendly facade, like you were actually friends behind close doors.

Even if it was fake, he liked it. The attention you gave him, the way you finally look at him right in the eyes with more than just your business smile. How you sit close to him at interviews, your legs almost touching. And how you would joke with him when people were looking, actually trying to get to know him.

The promotions ended sooner than he'd like, and now he was alone once again.

He should have let go of you, it been already two years since you two acted together, and he did in fact almost forgot about you. His house was finally you free, not a single thing that represented you in any way in sight. And he been clean for the past few months, finally going in public and acting like old him.

That was until a movie director contacted him, wanting him to be one of the main characters in this action movie he's making. And his costar? You. You would play his love interest. He can't really remember what he said after that, but he did ended up with the role, now reading the script with great attention, trying to picture how your scenes would be.

The romance scenes weren't enough, the fans would want to see more, he said while talking to the director, convincing him to add more. And that's how you ended up with some really unnecessary spicy scenes. Making out in the bathroom, somehow fucking each other on his bed, lots of kisses and the sexual tension should be felt the entire movie.

"Director, can I talk to you?" you said when you visit the set for the first time.

"Did something happen?" the older man looked at your concerned face.

"I received the new script." you said, holding the papers in your hands. "Are all the new scenes really necessary? It's supposed to be about fighting for justice, not a romance movie." well, you were right. But the white haired man happened to pay for the movie's budget out his own pocket.

"It would reach to a larger audience." but were the sex scenes really necessary? You looked at Gojo, trying to communicate telepathically with him. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine." the director said, ending the discussion there.

This wasn't just about you, it was also about your coworker and about how he feels. You had to pull him to the side and talk to him, you didn't want any hard feelings or to end up with a twisted relationship because of a stupid movie. "You sure you're alright with the new scenes?" you asked, looking at the tall man as he seemed to hold back something.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" he tried not to smile, happy at the way you seemed concerned about him and his well being.

"The change was out of nowhere and too drastic. I could talk to the director if you feel uncomfortable." you're so cute, he wanted to eat you whole.

"What about you. How do you feel about it?" he knew he went overboard, he blacked out when he made those changes after all. But he personally can't say that he regrets anything.

"It's just acting. Sure, I'm a little unhappy at the changes, but I'm alright with it if you are." god, he was dying to kiss you. He wanted to get to the parts where he could be closer to you, feel your skin against his and have a taste of your lips.

There were a few more weeks of filming until he got to the parts he wanted, and he was waiting patiently. Because he knew that once it started he'll get more than enough of you.

"That's all for today." the director said, finally announcing that it was the end of today's work.

"How about some drinks?" Gojo looked at you talking to your assistant before he looked at the director. "My treat." how could anybody refuse free drinks, especially ones that were payed by the white haired man.

You initially tried to refuse, looking at your assistant for a confirmation before you accepted. And that's how you ended in a bar with almost everybody on the set.

You let yourself to get losen for once, forgetting about the image you carefully builded and drank. You had your assistant there in case of anything, which you trusted a bit too much. But even so, you're just happy that you could drink, enjoy the company of others and feeling like you're just another person in there not just a big name actress.

And perhaps you enjoyed yourself a bit too much. Because people started leaving and you didn't felt like doing the same just yet.

It was just you, your costar, the director and your assistants in there in the end, it wasn't that bad.

"I'll call the car for us." your assistant let you know as they stepped outside for a moment.

"Our car is here." the director's assistant said, making the old man get up and leave. Now it was just you, your costar and his assistant that was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm kinda glad I'm doing this with you." you said, barely able to keep your eyes open. "I hear people talking about you all the time, and they all say how good you are." he stared at you with an expressionless face, still trying to think of what he should do next.

"Why don't we go outside for a moment? Take some fresh air." he wasn't prepared for a love confession just yet.

"Alright." you grabbed his arm, letting your body lean into his. He was sweating, his heart was beating so fast that he doesn't know what to do.

"T-then." he gulped, walking with you towards the back door of the bar. Good thing he reserved the whole place, because he doesn't know what he would have done if anyone saw you in that situation.

He placed you against the wall, sitting back next to you and letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

"Your hands are so big." you said, taking his hand in yours and comparing sizes. He was quiet, he just stared at you, his mind in a million places as he tried to figure out if this was some kind of hint or it was all in his head. "You're big in general." you looked up at him, blinking a few times and making him look away, a hand over his face as he tried to control his facial expression.

"It's nothing." he almost bite his tongue.

"I was a bit scared at first, but I'm glad we're in this together." seriously, are you trying to provoke him? "Let's work together in the future as well." if you weren't leading him on then he doesn't know what this is.

The way you look at him, and how you smile. It wasn't your work smile, you were genuinely smiling at him, heck, even your eyes were smiling. If this wasn't you telling him how much you want him then he really went crazy.

He lowered his head, taking another look at your face before he kissed you. At first it was something simple, just his lips touching yours for a second before he backed away. But the way you looked at him made him get closer. Those eyes of yours, having something that looked like sparkles in them. A fire that never seems to calm down, the heat that made him fall for you in the first place. Who can blame him that he kissed you again? Trapping your body against the wall, making you to wrap your hands around him, welcoming him in your warmth even more.

He let out a moan, looking at you with something lustful in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He looked dangerous, like he finally let go of that prince charming facade, showing you what he actually is.

You looked surprised, like you actually never expected him to act like that. Did you really thought that he's usually that sweet? How cute. He could play with you for a little longer, show you what he's actually capable of.

He bite your lip, looking straight into your soul as his kisses traveled to your neck. He sucked on your skin, placing a soft kiss on it before he sinked his teeth into it, making you to let out a gasp. He needed to leave his mark on you, because who knows when else he could.

He couldn't stay away from your lips for long, and now he's back on devouring you, filling the back alley with the sounds you make. "Come home with me." he tried to say, not wanting to get away from you.

You didn't respond, not because you didn't heard him, because trust me when I say you heard him loud and clear. It was more about what will happen after that, and your moral code. You'd rather die than get involved with anyone in the industry, and yet look at you still refusing to let go of him.

"Y/N, you're here?" you could hear somebody on the other side of the door. It was your assistant, probably looking for you to go home.

"Let go." you quietly moaned into his mouth. The door open, making you to push him away, looking at your assistant who had no clue of what's going on. "Is the car ready?" you felt like you sobber up, it's like you didn't touched a single drop of alcohol.

"It just arrived." your assistant looked at the actor next to you and then at you, not knowing if they should walk away or take you to your car.

"Alright." you left him in that alley, not even looking back at him for a single moment.

He had that look again, he's about to do something you'd both regret, or more like you won't like it. Because if he's shameless enough to do it, do you think he'd actually feel a little bit of remorse?

The next day you woke up with hundreds of text and missed calls, and your head killing you. And when you looked at your phone all you could see is people sending you the same article.

Two big stars making out in the back of a bar. Is this the start of a romance story?

Huh? What are these people talking about? Curious, and having no idea why people were sending it to you, you clicked on it. And you were welcomed with your name all over it, alongside Gojo's.

All you can do is cry. How drunk were you last night? You have to apologize to your costar. How could you have been so stupid? You can't believe yourself for doing such a mistake.

"Do not believe everything you see" you posted something on your social media. Trying to calm down the crowd somehow. You have to talk to your team about this since you have absolutely no idea how to handle it. For the moment it it was better to deny it then resolve this issues with Gojo's team.

Speaking of the wolf, you haven't checked on his social media yet.

You went on his profile, and instead of trying to take control over the situation he was putting more wood on the fire.

"Since everybody knows we don't have to hide anymore" you looked at his post in disbelief.

"???" you comment. Looking at your screen in disbelief at the way he was liking comments about how the two of you looked good together.

"Hi :)" he replied to your comment, making you even more confused. Was this a strategy for the movie? I mean, it wasn't a bad idea since you are his character's love interest.

Perhaps this was all an elaborate scheme that you weren't aware of just yet. That thought made you calm down. The internet was doing otherwise.

There were people who were genuinely happy about this, talking about how they knew it. Hell, you got other stars talking about how they always seen your interactions and they knew something more was going on. The fact that you didn't seen a single hate comment made you put questions, but who knows. You might see them sooner or later.

From that moment on, you didn't had a single peaceful time on set. Now you have people acting like your a married couple when nothing was going on between you and Satoru. But he seemed fine, in fact, he looked happy with the way people are treating you now.

He left his mark on you and you didn't even knew it. It was fine, even if you didn't looked at him as a potential partner, yet. It was alright. There was more than enough time. There's no rush, especially when he knows how to get rid of competition. Just like he got rid of your assistant for interrupting you at the bar, he can get rid of everybody that dares to get in his business.

"You're free later?" he came to you when you were on set, making people start whispering between themselves and giggle.

"Not really." you looked tired, if he knew you'd end up like this without an assistant he would have got you another one first.

"If you ever need my help let me know, I'll help you with anything." he means it, even if he looks like he doesn't. He will walk through fire if you tell him to.

"I'm just looking for a new assistant, don't worry." people were speculating that the assistant was the one who leaked about your so called relationship, but it was far from the truth. But the fact that they refuses to talk to you was confusing, even if it was your assistant who did that, why would they suddenly quit and go no contact? And what was more confusing was the fact that the only text from them was a screenshot of what you posted. Don't believe everything you see. What does that means? Was somebody bullying them? Then why wouldn't they tell you?

Now you couldn't help but be hesitant about chosing a new assistant. What if they end up having the same fate? Some people can be really mean and you don't want anyone to suffer because of you.

So, for the next few days you refused to even talk about your current situation. Only having your manager by your side and not trusting anyone that got too close near you.

He haves a limit, you should know that. How much longer he should wait for you to finally notice him?

This only made someone jealous, and a little angry. You don't want his help, even after what happened at the bar, you act like there was nothing you should talk about.

You should have went to him, jump in his arms and cry about how your assistant left you. But no, instead you chose to overwork yourself, still be the same kind actress that people loved and still giving him no attention.

So, he wrote you a letter. It was nothing more than his current thoughts and about his not so healthy love that was masked as 'admiration'. Shoving into your bag when no one was looking.

You were still on set when you were reading the letter, thinking it was made by one of the staff who happened to be your fan. You didn't really payed too much mind about it, finding it cute and putting it back where you find it after you were done with it.

Did you liked it? Should he write another one? Or did he went too overboard?

Do not believe everything you see, those were your own words and yet you were ignoring them. That letter did made your day, thinking that maybe you're just overthinking about your current situation. There were bad people out there, but there were also good guys. Why were you letting one bad incident ruin your mood?

A few days later you appeared at the studio with an unknown person next to you, you finally got a assistant. And this time you're planning on doing better than you did last time. Or so you thought.

You woke up with another letter, the same handwriting and the same sweet words written on it. This time was more about you than your so called fan, about how you should take more care of your health, how you got people worrying about you. But unlike last time, this letter had a signature on it, an S, nothing more, just a simple symbol.

How cute, S for secret, right? You giggled.

Do not believe everything you see. Really, do not. But for a moment you allowed yourself to be delusional, to think that the world wasn't that bad. I mean, even if there was someone who didn't appreciate you, you still had millions of fans and there are a lot of people who supports you.

And you decided to be more humanitarian, to step up your game and follow your costar's lead. One time after everyone was done with work you announced that you want to take everyone out for drinks, your treat. No one was crazy enough to refuse, especially you.

So, you called a friend of yours who owned a restaurant, the food is great, plus they also had a bar. And off you were.

Just like last time, you ended up all alone in that place with your coworker, laughing at his silly jokes before you finally got up to pay for tonight's feast.

"Your back?" you asked, feeling someone behind you and thinking it was your assistant. But to your surprise, it wasn't. It was the white haired man who seemed drunk, and maybe he was from the few drinks he had that night.

He leaned into you, trapping you between the empty receptionist desk and him. He kept looking at you, eyes half open as he seemed to want to say something.

Your mind was wandering for a moment, moving your eyes on his full lips before looking up at him. Every sane person would have done that, I mean, he was eye catching even in that state.

"You're alright?" you sounded concerned, and for a moment he actually thought you cared about him. You looked around the empty room for a moment, looking for any other people in there, but for his assistant more specifically.

"Don't leave me." he got his face closer to your ear, whispering in a low voice, and placing his hands on either sides of your body, trying to get his body more closer to yours.

"Come." you tried to get on of his hands away, so you could move.

"Where?" he only got clingier.

"Let's sit down. I'll get you some water." the last thing you want to see is headlines with your name all over them, talking about taking advantage of him when he's such a state.

"Noo." he whined, resting his head against your shoulder. "Don't want to." you sighed, looking around the room once again, trying to see if anyone from his team is still there.

"I got the bill ready." the cashier came back, only to freeze in place and look at you and your costar hugging, or what it seemed like a hug.

"I'll pay for it as soon as my assistant comes back." you said, trying to act like you're not being suffocated by this mountain of a man. The poor girl ran back from where she came from, leaving you alone with Satoru again. You sighed, you could only sigh as you put a hand on his back, making him break character for a moment as he jolted under your touch. "You can be such a big baby sometimes." good thing that you can't see him, because he was grinning from ear to ear.

"What happened to you?" your assistant finally appeared, looking at the scene you two were putting.

"He's drunk." you said as you rubbed his back with one hand, the other resting on his side, to keep him in place from falling. "Have you seen his assistant?"

"Not since the director left." your assistant got their phone out. "I'll give them a call." you're so thankful that you overcame your fears, because you don't know what you would have done alone in a moment like this. "They turned their phone off." you looked at the man in your arms and shook your head, disappointed at how this turned out.

"Call his manager, or anyone from his team." maybe he was the one who needed a new assistant, not you.

"No one is answering their phone." you understand that it's late at night, but who could just leave a big movie star like Gojo out here without a single thought about it. "What do we do? There's a hotel nearby, we could get a room for him there." that wasn't a bad idea. However, neither you or your assistant would look good if you leave him there. I mean, someone will have to get in the hotel with this world famous actor, who's face is known by everybody. He clearly drunk, and there would 100% be someone who will post something online about it and you'll get backlash for it.

"Let's take him to my place." that was the only option you had left. He started rubbing his face against you when you said that, letting out a groan and letting more of his weight into you.

"You're sure about that?" your assistant asked, not sure how to respond to what you just said.

"He'll sleep in a guest room. It's better than a hotel." your imagine had to come first after all.

So, without any more words said, you took him to your car. Even if he was heavy, he was surprisingly easy to move around. Well, he did followed every single of your move voluntarily, refusing to let go of you in any way possible.

That until you got to your house, dragging him inside when your assistant left, and leading him to a room relatively far from yours.

You pushed him in bed, taking off his shoes and trying to get him comfortable in bed. You didn't even dared to get close to his clothes, just putting the blanket over him and then leaving him in there.

You didn't even thought of taking advantage of him, you just wanted him sleep peacefully, to keep him away from anyone who might do something bad to him. After all, you knew damn well the industry you're working in, they'll eat him like wolves if they get their hands on him.

You're just helping out, you don't expect anything in return. But what a surprise to wake up with him in your bed in the middle of the night. He was on top of you, looking at the way the moonlight hit your face, and somehow wanting to bathe in your scent.

You could feel his hot breath on you, and it made you woke up. You didn't looked scared, even if he looked like he wanted to do things you'd rather not think about, you stayed calm. "Why did you leave me?" was he still drunk, or perhaps he was pretending to be? He was a good actor after all, you wouldn't be surprised if this was one of his acts.

He doesn't understands you. If you were the one who jumped in his arms like that he would have devoured you alive. But even after he made sure he could get some time alone with you, you still didn't payed him attention, at all.

"Go to sleep." you looked unfazed, not even taking him seriously.

"Touch me." he was really going to lose his mind. He was serving himself on a plate to you, and you didn't even dared to take a bite.

"You're drunk." you'd always try to do the opposite of what he's saying.

"I'm not." you knew he was pretending from the start too, didn't you?

"That's what a drunk person would say." you were getting on his nerves.

In a moment of panic, he took your hand in his, kissing your palm, closing his eyes and looking desperate as he tried to show you how he's feeling. You didn't even bat an eye, looking at him expressionless and like you didn't believed a word be was saying.

"Why don't you like me?" he had to confront you, or else this will take him nowhere.

"It's not that." he got the wrong idea, but it wasn't your job to explain yourself when he only understands what he wants to understand.

"Then? Why do you keep avoiding me?" you shook your head.

"I want us to keep it professional." you're making him laugh.

"We weren't professional when we kissed." that's another story. "So you just used me and now you'll let me hanging like this?" he really didn't wanted to listen to you unless you said something he wants to hear. "Make it up to me." what a fucker. "I want something in return for what you did." he's talking like he didn't started it last time.

"What do you want me to do?" you really can't believe him and his stupid demands. This should have been a payback for last time. Taking care of him even if he wasn't your problem to begin with.

"Kiss me." he was waiting for your response. "Like you mean it." you just said you want to keep it professional, but it's like he didn't even heard it.

"Can't I do something else?"

"Post a picture of us." that was even worse. Who knows what people would say if you do that. You'd really be branded as his, and it was a pain in the ass to deal with it.

You grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him closer to you, giving him a kiss that he'd remember. A wet kiss that it filled the room with sound, and your tongue in his mouth dancing with his. You even wrapped your hands around his neck, making sure he doesn't back down and take back his words.

He moaned, his hands trying to get under your shirt to feel more of your skin. But you didn't let him to do anything because you ended the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at him a bit angrily. "What now?"

"Bite me." kissing wasn't enough, he wanted you to eat him. Bite him, devour him in any way you could so that way you could have a piece of him with you.

"I'm not-" he kissed you, this time pinning your hands above your head so he could explore you more freely. Every time you tried to say something he'd bite your lip, making you groan and continued to kiss you.

"Touch me." he moaned, finally getting his mouth away from yours so you could breath. He took his shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room and taking one of your hands in his, placing it on his crotch so you could feel how hard he was. He looked at you, at the face you made and how you didn't looked happy to be in that situation.

"It's too soon." you still refuse to get involved with your coworkers? What does he haves to do to prove to you that he means every single word he's saying?

"Do you really not like me?" he wanted you to be at least a little interested in him. It was no fun if he's the only one with big feelings in there.

"It's not that." it's your moral code.

"Do you ever think of me?" you didn't respond to that, only looking down at your hands amd trying to avoid eye contact.

"I'm not ready." you finally open your mouth to say something. "If we do this then nothing will be the same. We still have work to do, I can't simply just do it." so it was because of work? He already knew that, but at least you didn't dislike him.

"I get it." he said, getting off you and sitting down in bed. "Just go to sleep."

"You can sleep here if you want, I'll go somewhere else." you tried to get out of bed, but he dragged you back.

"Just because we're not fucking that doesn't mean we can't sleep." he will not let this night go without doing something. And just being able to feel your body against his as he sleeps is more than enough. Trust me when I say that this will drive him crazy for many days from now on.

The way you stay in his arms, and how he's able to shield over you. You really have no idea what power you hold onto him.

Do you regret bringing him in? A little. You hate giving people false hope, and he seems to ignore all your signs of displeasure. He did grew up in this environment after all. Being rich and famous from a young age, he haves no idea how to react when people tells him no, he can't handle rejection. And it seems that he always got what he wanted.

He didn't had to put on an act if he wanted to be around you. You could be friends, if he wanted. But nothing more, you wouldn't dare to be something more than acquaintances. You just work together, and are signed under the same entertainment company. You were nothing more than cash cows. You were the biggest stars of your agency, and you seemed to be pushed under the spot light as much as possible. He must understand how you feel, no?

He in fact didn't. And unlike you, he had more control over his actions. You could even say that the agency was afraid of him. He did come from a big family of stars, he had so many connections that even he can't say for sure how much power he was holding. But it was no joke when someone says he's the strongest.

So how can you reject him like that? Leaving him alone in that bed without blinking twice. But perhaps it was for the best, because he could finally rearrange his thoughts and think of what he should do. Retreat wasn't an option, I mean, how could he step back when he basically was in paradise?

This place smells exactly like you, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue and making him salivate while bathing in your scent. Should he steal something? You shouldn't tell him twice, because he got up the bed and starting looking around the room. He should pick something small, that you wouldn't notice. And even if you do notice, what will you do? He's shameless, you'll only give him a reason to get off to later when he's alone.

He should get something practical, that would help him during hard times.

And that's when he saw it, your closet. Something in his perverted mind suddenly lit on, and he went straight for your panties. There's so many to choose from, so many colors and models. He wants to take all of them home, put them on display right at the entrance so he would be greeted by them every time he comes home. In the end he picked one of the prettiest pair you own, shoved it in his pocket and went back into your room.

He gained more than he expected. Perhaps he should play drunk more often.

He got his shirt back on and got out the room. You couldn't possibly just left him in there all alone. And he was right, because he found you in the kitchen, sitting peacefully and taking a sip of some unknown liquid from a cup. "You're up?" the way your voice was still husky, your hair messy and your shirt falling off your shoulder. You said you didn't wanted him and yet you're trying to seduce him, how does that come?

He didn't open his mouth, only getting closer to you and taking the cup away from your hand, drinking from it without a single worry of what it might be.

It was tea, not so sweet, still warm and somehow hitting just right. "If you wanted some you could have said so." you said, getting up and walking towards one of your cabinets, getting out another cup and pouring some tea in it. "Here."

"I'll drink from this." he preferred your half empty cup rather than a full one? What a weirdo.

"Do you want to eat anything? I still have some leftovers from yesterday. I also think I still have some jam left, we could eat it with toast." stop showing him your caring side. He really doesn't know for how much longer he can keep it like this. This moment felt too intimate, it felt like you two really hooked up last night, and it was messing with his head.

You take good care of him, don't you? Offering him some of the biggest clothes you own so no one would suspect a thing, giving him a ride back to the studio. And now acting like you don't even know him. Stop being so cute, it only makes him want to bite you.

"You're here today?" the director said, looking at the two of you who got there at the same time.

"Don't we need to be here for a costumes check?" you clearly remember your assistant telling you to come back and do a last minute fit check.

"It's tomorrow." the white haired man said, wrapping his arm around yours.

"Why didn't you told me?" he was enjoying this too much, all a smile as he was trying not to react at your expression.

"I thought you were taking me home." you didn't even knew where he lives.

"Just go, you love birds. You clearly have better places to be at." the director laughed, making you look in disbelief at him. Love birds? Who?

"Come on, let's go back." Satoru didn't let you say a thing and dragged you out of there.

All he needs to do at the moment is keep people away from approaching you. And it's not hard, at all. Just standing next to you, flash a smile and say something that could be interpreted in wrong ways. He doesn't even need to try to make people run.

"Seriously, why didn't you tell me?" you said when you got back to your car. "Now I look stupid." you looked so gloomy, he was going to eat the pout of yours.

"I thought you knew." he'll get you even more confused about things if it means he'll see you like this. It gave him a false sense of security, like you were finally accepting him.

You sighed, not wanting to let out your anger on him. "Let me drive you home." it would be bad if more people sees you together. And at this point you don't trust anyone to come near your home to get him.

What a joke.

The next day you woke up with people blowing your phone again, and another article of your name next to his, talking about everything you did in public. Your interactions at the bar, how he was spotted at your house where he didn't left until the next morning, and about how you always look lovey dovey at the sets.

The filming progress just started and yet there were already rumors all over the internet about how you two would end up being more than just coworkers by the end of that movie.

Who keeps writing this? Seriously, it was getting on your nerves. And the fact that Satoru kept feeding delusions to the fans wasn't helping.

All this hype around the movie wasn't supposed to be only about you two, the main cast. It was supposed to be about all the production. The set, the visuals, the acting and the script, everyone's hard work. You should have turned down the offer as soon as you heard who your costar would be. But you didn't see any of these coming, so who can you blame?

Things only seems to get worse, because when you stared filming again, you got assigned with a new task.

"So, we're filming what were doing behind the scenes?" you asked, looking at the small camera that one of your coworkers was holding and then at them.

"The director said it would be fun. Giving people a little preview of what's going on." well, it didn't sounded that bad. People seems to enjoy behind the scenes footage in general, letting them see a bit of the actors lifes.

"I see." if the director said so, then you guess you don't really have a saying in this.

"We started already?" the white haired man appeared next to you out of nowhere, resting a hand on your head and leaning into you.

"Satoru, say hi to the camera." the actor said, moving the device to his face.

"Oh right, Y/N." there was a hint of his evil plan in his voice, already knowing you'd be pissed with him. "Are my clothes still at your place? I think I forgot them there." you really couldn't control your expression in that moment, looking at him like he killed somebody.

"What?" your voice was shaking, still not over the fact that he would say something like that in this situation. "Why would they be at my house?"

"I changed there last time. I think I left the clothes on the couch before we left."

"Ohh~" the other actor said, making you to look at them, somehow begging them to not get the wrong idea. "I see you're busy. I'll let you be, I won't interact."

"No, wait. It's not what it seems." it was already too late. "Why would you say that?" because he knew the director loves drama, and this would end up being published sooner or later. He was killing two birds with one stone. Doing a favor for the movie's publicity and showing the world that he already been in places some wouldn't even dare of dreaming of.

"People love things like these." he wrapped his hands around you, resting his chin on your head. "Hug me, the camera is in our direction." if it was or not, he couldn't care less. He just wanted to feel your touch in that moment.

It only got worse and worse the moment you started filming the sex scenes. The scenes were like a reflection of your own actions in real life, because everything started with a drunk kiss at a bar. Then ending up in his apartment where you were eating each other in the hallway.

It was supposed to be acting, the kisses didn't even needed to be real and yet he's not even holding back, touching you in all kind of inappropriate places, groping you shamelessly like there aren't cameras all over the place.

He pinned you against the sturdiest wall in there, making you wrap your legs around him as he kept biting and kissing you all over the place. At this point, you don't think the editors would need any sonds effects for your scenes. Because you realized how filthy those sounds were, and loud. Every time you kissed it was echoing in that empty place, the small setting that was supposed to represent a house wouldn't be enough to muffle the sounds.

He bite your lip when he realized your head was in a complete another place. How dare you ignore him in moments like these. You couldn't run even if you wanted, because you'd have to come back to him and film everything from the start. Or perhaps he could make you screw up on purpose, to retake this scene so he could touch you even more.

"Wait." you tried to stop him when you felt his hand under your shirt, trying to unclip your bra.

"What?" he said out of breath, taking his lips away from you for a moment so he could look at you.

"Let-" you looked away, too embarrassed at the way he was looking at you, his pupils were dilated and he looked like he would really put his dick in you if it wasn't for all these people in there. "Let me do it." his lips were back on yours while his hands were trying to take your clothes off.

Both of your clothes were all over the place, and you know it would be a pain in the ass to pick them after. He was too focused on this, the way he looked like he couldn't see anyone but you, like you were really alone in his house.

That's the beauty of acting, no? How some could get so focused on the plot, acting like their character is supposed to and forgetting about the outside world. But he wasn't acting in that moment. Maybe you were, but he taking this very personally. And the fact that you were holding back moans, refusing to touch him more than necessary and trying to stay in your character was infuriating him. It wasn't his character that makes you feel good, it was him.

He ended up throwing you in the bed a little harder than he intended, his touch becoming rougher and his kisses even wetter than before.

Good god, it's good that the scene ended soon after you two got to the bed, or else you would have lost it. You're already soaking wet, you have no idea what you would have done if this kept going for too long.

The scene was perfect, as much as you're embarrassed about it, it was pure perfection. Not a single time did the director called cut, you didn't had to retake the same scene from another angle. Nothing was said about your so called acting besides that you were in complete sync.

He's taking revenge on you, isn't he? Because even now after you finished your scenes for today, he looked at you with the same hungry eyes. And you swear you didn't mean it, but it made your pussy clench.

You gave him a quick look, squeezing your thighs together for a moment when he looked back at you.

It was something that he never saw before, the way you act. That expression on your face, pouting and looking at him with this thing in your eyes that made him want to drag you somewhere far away from people. You needed him, didn't you? And he was going to help you if you asked him to. Because if he got you in that state, then he also had to resolve your problem.

But you didn't spoke to him, you just looked at him all needy for a moment, like you wanted his touch back on you and then left, leaving him with the worst bonner he ever got in his life. This, only to come back a few days later for your next scenes.

You were driving him insane. And there aren't enough interactions in the movie to take out his frustration on you. There are too little scenes, and sometimes he had to improvise when he was getting too lost in his feelings. A few kisses here and there, just a quick peak when you were in the background to give more life to the movie.

But you still didn't said a thing, acting like this was all part of the script, like you were payed to do so.

So can you blame him when he wrote you another letter again? This time more aggressive than the previous times. Talking about how you got him feeling, how he craves for your touch and it drives him insane the way you seem not to care. Give him attention, or act like you acknowledge him. And this time he left the paper in your dressing room, placed under one of your stuff where he knows you'll know it was meant for you.

Too bad he couldn't see your reaction when you read the letter, but he realized you weren't too happy about it. It got you acting paranoid again, he could see it in your eyes, your body language. How you need to have a bit of distance from anyone that tries to come too close to you, and how you seem not to trust people anymore.

It was just a letter, he didn't even wrote everything down. No, in fact, he held back a lot. Because if he did wrote his mind you would refuse to come back into the movie set ever again.

But that's your charm, I guess. How you don't hide your feelings, and how you try to not make it obviously that you're displeased with things even if it's written all over your face. You're a good actress, a very good one, and yet you don't act unless you're required to. You were the opposite of him, where he always haves a mask on, the same business smile as you. But unlike you, he doesn't mean an thing, this friendly facade.

You were genuinely a sweetheart, while he only acted as he sees fit. And in this moment he's so close on fucking everything up just to toy with you. Because he's at his limits.

It was time for another suggestive scene, the set being filled with less people than usually. The lowlights, the atmosphere and everything in there was a bit suffocating. But maybe because of how much you overworked yourself these days.

"Do you think the plan will work?" you asked, sitting on his couch and looking at the coffee table that was placed there by the staff members.

"Do we have any other option?" he said his line in a serious tone, his character was supposed to be stressed from all the unfortunate events that happened lately, but it seems that he too is stress. Well, everybody been working overtime lately, but the sooner you were done with this movie the sooner you could move on with your life.

"I wish we could resolved this peacefully, I'm tired of fighting." you sighed, looking at your fingers for a moment and then at him who was resting not so far from you on the couch.

"Come here." he pat his lap, his back resting against the couch and he didn't even wanted to move an inch from there. He was improvising again, he was supposed to get up and drag about bottle of alcohol into this.

You followed his instructions, not wanting to pretend to be drunk again, and somehow not wanting to act in that moment too. If he haves a better idea for this scene then you'll follow his lead.

So, you sat on his lap, legs spread on either sides of him and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands resting on your hips, moving towards your ass as he grabbed you and dragged you closer to him, your chest pressed against his as he placed you over his hard cock. You could feel him through his pants, and for a moment you stopped functioning, not knowing how to react to this.

"Well figure it out." he kissed you, his hands going under your shirt to make contact with your burning skin.

The kiss was so sloppy, both of you too tired to figure out a pace you should go at. Just touching, getting lost in the way your bodies seem to welcome each other openly. For a moment even forgetting where you actually are at the moment, and if the director wouldn't have said cut, you could have definitely escalated things.

What was going on in your mind? How could you let yourself so carefree? If you was just a bit more tired and at a state where you couldn't think properly, you would have definitely dragged him to your changing room and fucked him there.

And you woke up with another letter, even worse than last time. Talking about how your body looks, how he wants to get his hands on you, how you turn him on in the worst way possible.

The more you ignored those letters, the more they came. It got so bad, describing his fantasies, the way you appear in his dreams to haunt him like he wasn't haunting you right now. You had no idea who the sender was, because sometimes the letters would be sign as S, sometimes they would just be filled with nothing but filthy words and no signature. But you knew it was the same person from their handwriting.

You'd always wake up with them in places where there aren't many people allowed. And no matter how hard you're thinking about, you can't figure who it was. There were no cameras in this side of the studio, so you couldn't even see who was tormenting you.

"Why don't we go drinking tonight?" the director said one time before you were almost done with work fot that day. "We're almost done with filming, lets celebrate." after all these stressful days, you could use a drink.

It will be quick, go there, have a chat with a few people, have a drink and then go home. But just like last time, one drink turned into too many and you ended up in a corner of the bar with your costar who seemed to feed you even more alcohol.

He had his chin resting against his palm, looking at you with a smile on his face as he kept pouring more of that bitter liquor into your glass. "I can't drink no more." you couldn't even speak properly, hiccuping and moving left to right, like you were about to fall off your chair.

"One more won't hurt." the bar was still filled with people, so he had to keep himself in place.

"I got the car ready." your assistant came to your table looking at you and then at the white haired man. "I have to take her home, she's already too drunk." maybe he should get rid of this one too. It seems that all your assistants like to get in between his plans.

But perhaps he got a better idea. He took your glass, gulping down everything that was in it in a second before he tried to get you to the car. "Give me a ride too." he got in the backseat of your car, pretending to fall asleep after some time.

Your assistant tried to call anyone related to him, to come pick him up from your house because he seems too drunk to even stand on his own feet. But since no one was answering, they had no choice but to get him in your house, leaving him on the couch before they left.

It was always easy, so damn easy. He couldn't help but laugh. Drunk, him? He never got drunk in his life. Alcohol seems to have no effect on him.

He made his way to your room, getting next to the bed and looking at you sleeping. How dare you be so at peace when he's there? You were panicking all over the place last time he wrote you a letter, crying and refusing to talk to anybody if it wasn't for work. And now you act like you forgot about it.

He stood in place, looking down at you with an expressionless face as he can't think of anything at the moment. He got this far, so what? He could scare you more, give you a reason to hate him but at the same time all he wants to do is stand there all night and look at you.

He took his phone out, taking a quick picture of you before he put it back in his pocket.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, not far from where you're sleeping, looking out the window and then back at you. You had quite a nice view, no wonder you always seem to be in a hurry to come home.

Should he do something mean? Leave another letter in your home to see your reaction the next day. He could put it in one of your pockets and act like he doesn't remember anything besides going to the bar to drink. Maybe even leave the front door open and say some shit about hearing something while he was asleep.

But before he could think of anything more, you extend a hand, grabbing him by his shirt and trying to drag him closer. Like before, he just stood in place, looking down at you who seemed to pull harder. Were you mistaking him for the blanket or something? Unfortunately for you, he won't take off his clothes until you do so.

"Mm." you groaned, opening your eyes to look at the white haired man confused. "Ah.." you rubbed your forehead. "Fuck." that was the first time he heard you swear. "Come here." were you still sleeping? Because he doubts you'd react that lightly to him being there. But you were calling for him, and he wouldn't dare to say no to you. So he got in that bed, getting all cozy next to you and waiting for your next move.

For a moment you just touched him, moving your hand on his face, trying to feel something before it went lower on his body. He stood there, observing your clumsy actions and letting you do whatever you wanted with him. Your hands kept wandering, from his chest to his abs under his shirt, and now you were tugging at his pants, trying to see what you didn't got to see until now.

You were funny, the way you looked surprised whenever you discovered something new about him. "Don't do that." he said when you kept trying to get your hands in his pants.

"I want to see it." you pout, looking at him for a moment before you moved his shirt out the way, exposing his lower abdomen. "If you're as big as it feels." his heart skipped a beat, he couldn't help but cover his face with his hands. Do whatever you want, he'll hold back so you can explore as much as you want. "Ohh!" seriously, he can't even look at you when you make those faces. He was biting his lips so hard, he's afraid he might moan before you even touch him. "Why are you so big? Look at the size." his cock twitched, making you let out another surprised sound.

"Touch it." he said between his teeth, looking at you between his fingers and at what you're doing.

Your eyes moved on his, a serious expression on your face before your eyes went back to his dick. Can you even fit something like this inside you? The size was just ridiculous, but that didn't stopped you from touching it. Moving your hand around and studying like it was the first time seeing a cock.

He was bucking his hips forward in your hand, breathing heavily as he tried to keep himself from touching you. This was the first time you ever showed interest in him, he can't just fuck this up.

"How does it feel?" you asked, looking at the way he throws his head backwards, his chest rising and falling down.

Good, it feels so fucking good. He might go crazy from how soft your hand was. He moaned, not even being able to let out words, or think of a way to respond to you.

"I want that too." you took your hand away, making him to finally look at you as you took your clothes off. Now sitting on top of him, taking his cock back in your hand and trying to take him inside your pussy. But it didn't matter how much you're trying, it was impossible to get at least his head. It hurts, the more you try the more frustrated you became. "It doesn't fit." his dick twitched again. You're killing him, you're saying stuff he didn't imagine you to say, and it was killing him inside.

"I'll make it fit." he pushed you off him, pinning you down into the bed as he got in between your legs, placing kisses on your body as he went lower and lower, until he got to your pussy.

He loved the way you taste, it was better than he imagined. So much fucking better. It was no wander he was trying to devour you, I mean, who knows when he's going to do this again. So he might as well do it until he memorizes your taste.

Your hands went through his hair, tugging at it lightly as you let out soft moans, even cursing under your breath from time to time, letting him know how good you were feeling.

He pulled a few orgasms out of you, loving way too much the way your thighs wrapped around him, or how you're trembling, looking at him with teary eyes and you only seem to want more.

He'll give you more, he'll give you as much as you ask for, fuck, even more. He'll make sure to make you fit him, prepare you so good that you could only fit his cock from now on. He'll give you a reason to keep going back to him.

He got up from between your legs, sitting next to you as he got his hand back to your pussy, slowly pushing two fingers inside and making you gasp. "Is it good?" he whispered in your ear, feeling the way you clench around him. All you did was to nod, looking at him with big doe eyes and leaning more into him, to feel more of his warmth.

"Deeper." you said when he didn't went more than halfway through, moving his fingers at a slow pace that it left you hanging, almost giving you no friction whatsoever.

He kissed you quickly before moving his eyes back on your pussy, resting his cheek against your head. Be careful what you're wishing for, he'll go so deep that you'd feel him in places you never knew existed. It's already hard to hold back, but if you keep provoking him he might let his mind slip for a moment.

So, doing just as you asked him to, he got deeper, curling his fingers upwards and making you squirm. He kissed you again, this time taking no break as he kept bullying your insides, making your walls get tighter around him. How is he going to live without this? How can he go back home and act like everything is normal after this? That's why he couldn't help but move faster, in a irregular pace as he kept stopping from time to time only to go rougher. So you wouldn't get too used to him.

You were a moaning mess, and he seems to only want you to lose your mind, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, kissing you as he made you turn around so he could do it from another position. He wants to go even deeper, to get back at your words, for requesting unnecessary things when he was going to give you what you wanted anyway.

"One more, come on baby. Give me one more." for how much longer is he going to say that? He's starting to get on your nerves at this point. But in the end, he finally took his fingers out of you. Dragging you closer to him so your back could be pressed against his chest, one of his arms under you head as he kept your hair away from your face, so he could be able to look at you. "You'll fit me now." he whispered in your ear, dragging your hips back and grabbing one of your legs, spreading them apart as he start whispering more filthy words in your ear. "Look at how you're taking me in." he said, waiting for you to say something, but to his surprise, you're long gone into the dream world. Sleeping soundlessly in his arms, like you forgot that he was even there.

He can't believe this. You actually fell asleep. You really dared to fall asleep and leave him there after you dragged him in your bed. The audacity you had. He's going to make sure to give you a hard time tomorrow for this. So, he too fell asleep next to you. A bit hard to do so, but he managed somehow.

The next day you woke up with your head killing you. You shouldn't have drank that much, how could you have been so dumb.

You were about to turn around when you realized that someone was in your bed, a pair of muscular arms around you, and someone breathing into the back of your neck. Your heart stopped working, you froze in place as you saw your soul leaving.

"Morning." a masculine voice could be heard from behind you, and you feared that you knew exactly who it was. He pressed his body into yours, letting you know you were both naked, and feeling his hard cock pressed against your back.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run from there and not look back for a single moment. How could you have been so stupid, how could you just do that. Just how drunk did you got?

"Don't tell me you're planning on running away." he whispered into your ear, making you flinch. "You dragged me into your bed, put your hands all over me and now you're going to leave me after you used me as you pleased? I had no idea you were that type of person." you whined, because that's all you could do in that moment. What other explanation do you have?

"I can explain." he pressed his cock into you harder, making you yelp.

"Oh yeah?" one of his hands traveled on your body, now going up towards your boobs, making you gasp when he groped one. "You kept me up all night." you cried at his words. "Don't you remember the way you got on top of me? Trying to get my cock inside then crying about how big it is." you closed your eyes shut, trying not to let out another whine from remembering what happened last night.

"I'm sorry.." what else could you say besides that?

"You weren't sorry when you were telling me to go deeper." his hand went down your body, wanting to go in between your legs to spread them again, but you jumped out of bed.

"I'm sorry, alright. I have no idea what got into me last night." you were really planning on running? Don't make him laugh.

"So you really just used me then, huh?" he stood there, in your bed. Half his body being covered by the blanket while the other was all naked, his skin exposed to you and he didn't seemed to me ashamed at all by what happened.

But if you think about it, he was the one who got a bottle of a really strong liquor and dragged you to the corner of the bar, making you have a glass with him. "It's your fault too." his eyes wided, looking at you like he didn't expected to hear that. "I might have dragged you in my bed, but if you didn't liked it you wouldn't have stayed." he smiled, finally letting his mask drop as his body language suddenly changed. He looked more relaxed, a smirk on his face as he uncovered more of his body.

"Come here. Let's continue from where we were." you moved you eyes away from him, not daring to look in his direction as you could see his cock. "Don't be shy now. You weren't last night, so why should you be now?" you're not going to listen to his nonsense anymore. "You don't want me anymore? How sad." he looked at the way you were going to your closet. "I still want you though." you ignored him as you went to get dressed. But you couldn't even do that in peace because he got behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and resting his chin against your head. "You should wear that, it looks good on you." he pointed at some dress you had in there.

"I'm not going anywhere today." you want to be comfortable, not dress up for nothing.

"Then wear nothing. I like it when you have nothing on." you could feel that, since he made it sure to let you know he was still as hard as before.

"Here." you said as you picked some clothes that were clearly too big to be on your size. "You can wear this." now that's he's thinking about it, something doesn't add up.

"Why do you have male clothes in your closet?" who else wore these? And you dared to give them to him like it was nothing too.

"I like buying them since they're comfortable." oh, that was an option too. Why didn't he thought of that? I mean, it's been quite a while since you last been in a relationship, and he knows that since he always knows what you're doing. What if he's not paying attention to you one time and you get married? He can't possibly let you do that. That empty spot in your bed was reserved to him. "We needed to talk." you said after you got dressed, getting out your closet and walking outside your room.

"About what?" he knows this moment. You always make people sign an NDA before you get into a anything deeper. But what he doesn't like about your relationships is that it's almost never too intimate, you just go out, eat, spend some time together and then that's it. Did one of those fuckers left you disappointed and now you're avoiding contact with other people? How sad. But well, since you have him now you don't have to think about that anymore. He'll get you drunk on his dick, and he'll make sure you only have eyes for him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know if we can continue this." huh? That wasn't what you were supposed to say. "We still have to film the movie, and then the promotions. I don't want anything awkward between us."

"What about after?" you didn't said a thing, only looking down at your feet before looking at him. "So you did play with me, huh?" perhaps this was your revenge for making you feel weak. He can't believe you actually knew of his doings and you didn't said a thing.

"If you still feel the same after everything is done.." huh? What did you just said? You were actually going to give him a chance? The NDA still sounded better, and he'll sign it in a blink of an eye if you do hit him with one.

He thought that something would change, that you'd be more open to him. But no, you were still as distant as ever.

You were playing with him, weren't you? You were just playing dumb because you knew how he actually was feeling. Well, he too can tournament you. From that day onward he kept writing you everyday, placing the letters in really inconvenient places and watching your reaction from not that afar if he could.

He made sure to not let you rest a single moment while you were on the set. It did not lasted for long whatsoever, because the filming soon ended and the film was sent to editing, giving everybody a break until the promotions starts.

You skipped the party, lying about how you got a cold and you didn't want anyone else to catch it, so you stayed at home.

You still remember the day the trailer was published, the way your phone was blowing and how you didn't dared to even look at it that day. But when you did turned it on, everything was worse than you imagined.

The trailer opened with a scene of the city, then it got to the point of where the conflict started, and as you watched more, the more scenes from the movie were put in, the fighting, the peaceful times, and it ended with you and Satoru kissing against a wall. A big long scenes of just the two of you almost fucking in there, and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

The comments? You could smell them from a mile away. You could hear screamings and whistles, like you knew exactly what people were talking about. And you were right because when you opened that section you were met with people talking about you and your costar rather than the trailer itself.

"Was the last scenes necessary?" a comment said, and you couldn't agree more to it. But the replies under it said otherwise.

Your social medias? Filled with people purring about you and Gojo. And he seemed to enjoy this as he kept liking comments about the two of you. And now people were officially calling him your husband. He was the one demanding to be called yours, not the other way. Because you weren't his property, he was yours.

You tried to get out the house in god knows how many days, finally going to the agency to talk to your manager about the situation. Can't you calm it down somehow? And the answer was no. The media was responding so positively about this, you couldn't just say something about it when you were put in such a good light. I mean, look, there were so many people requesting for you appearance than any other times before. Your team was busy responding to phone calls and emails for you.

So many people wanted you in their movies, because if they get you they also get Gojo. Since he apparently, you have no idea when, said that he won't act in a movie unless you're there. And if you accepted a role, then they automatically get Satoru too. Killing two birds with one stone. Having two of the most hot actors, who happened to be a so called power couple, acting in their movie was a free pass to the most sold movie of the year.

But you didn't even looked at those offers, no matter how good they were. You don't want to get involved with him anymore, he was only going to bring you problems.

Instead of accepting any offers, you decide to make a quick appearance on some big show that only asked for you to participate. The first thing you heard today that didn't involved Gojo's name into it.

You were so happy to go there, all a smile and stress free knowing that you don't have to get involved with that guy any time soon.

Did you really think that it was going to be that easy? You just got there on the set and you were met with one of the questions you were trying to avoid.

"First of all, I'm a big fan." the host said when you sat down on the couch. "But I don't really wanna say much so your boyfriend won't get jealous." you awkwardly laughed. "How is he, btw?" you had no idea what to say.

"You know." you said, biting your lip and trying to think of an excuse. "We both been busy." you don't even know in what county is he right now.

"I'm sure you are." the interview went on, moving to other discussions and you managed to forget about the white haired man for a moment. "Hold on a second." the host said as they talked to a staff member. "So, um, I was informed about something. And, Y/N, we actually have a gift for you?" how sweet, you thought. Only to be welcomed with your costar on the set, making the audience clap. "What a surprise, right?" you smiled, putting on your same old business smile on as you tried to keep your composure.

"I was nearby and I was thinking why not paying a visit." he lied as he got closer to the couch.

"It's always nice to have you here." the host said. "Please sit down, I actually wanted to ask about the new movie you two played in."

"I'd love to but I'm kinda in a hurry." he leaned down towards you, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and messing with your hair for a moment. "You two have fun." he said as he got away from you. "I have to go now. I wasn't even supposed to stop to begin with." he waved as he left, making the audience sound way too happy about this.

"Relax, no need to be shy." the host said, looking at your expression. "We already saw the trailer, it's nothing we haven't seen already." you wanted to cry. "So, about the movie. Does it have more of those scenes or were we deceived with the trailer?" you'll make sure to pick a written interview next.

"I'm not really sure if I should talk about it.." you tried to change the subject.

"It's not like you're spoiling the movie for us. We're curious about you and your partner." and that's what you don't like.

"Well.." everybody's eyes were on you. "Let's just say that you'll see more." that was enough to make the crowd go crazy.

Because of that guy now you can't even deny that you two aren't together anymore.

You would have been alright with all of this if the nothing happened between the two of you, and if Gojo felt the same way as you. But he seemed to push the idea of something happening between the two of you to the public. It was driving you crazy because you didn't know how to react. You always told yourself that you won't get involved with anyone from the industry, that you'll make a few more movies and then retire, find someone simple and live an almost normal life.

But instead you're here, stuck with media actually approving of this non existent relationship.

You have to talk to Satoru next time you see him. But you never really got the chance to do that in private when the promotions started.

Interview after interview and it only looked like you were surrounded by more and more people. And he didn't wanted to talk to you when you tried to pull him aside, talking about how people will think something inappropriate about the two of you when he was the one who was saying stupid things in front of the camera.

Now it was the premiere, having to stay arm in arm with him the whole time. And he doesn't hold back even for a moment, letting his hands roam around your body and making the crowd go insane.

"Let's talk." you whispered to him, making him lower his head so he could hear you.

"What about?" he was playing dumb, he already knew what you wanted to say.

"Do you have some time later?" you said as you wrapped your arm around his, following his lead as he was guiding you around the red carpet.

"Who knows." he said that, but at the after party you managed to trap him in a corner not allowing him to go away before he had a talk with you. "There are people watching." a smile on his face as he said that, looking at your angry face as you had him pinned to the wall.

"I don't care. You're going to run again." look at how the roles switched. He had no idea you would actually try to confront him.

"Then." he wrapped his arms around you, looking down at you and grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want to talk about."

"People are thinking that we really are in a relationship." your current position wasn't any better either. People were giving you looks like you were being perverts in public.

"They are?" why was he acting shocked when he was the one feeding that idea to others.

"We don't have to pretend anymore." you said, but that only made him to drag you closer.

"You said you'd give me a chance after we're done with the movie." you said a lot of things that you didn't mean, why was this any different.

"I just said that I don't want people to think we're in a relationship. What do you not get?" snap at him more, he can't be any happier than he's at that moment. He leaned down, his face getting closer to yours and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Keep your promises, don't disappoint me." you huffed, turning your face in another direction only for him to turn it back towards him and kiss you on your lips. "Let's get out of here. It started to get boring anyway." why did you listen to him was a mystery, why you followed him to his car and back to his house was something you couldn't figure it out. And how you ended up in his bed? You can't really respond to that either.

He was kissing you, hands under your clothes and trying to get them off as fast as he could. Moaning into your mouth whenever you touched him, pushing his body into yours and trying to become one with you in a way or another.

How could you think that you could leave him? What would he do if he doesn't have you? What is he supposed to do from now on if he can't think about you 24/7? To even dare to think about abandoning him, he's going to punish you for this.

"Turn around." that stupid dress was in his way, he can't believe your stylist really made you wear this. What if there are fuckers out there who still dares to look at you even after he made it very clearly who you belong to.

Well, whatever. He'll make sure to get rid of that stylist of yours. Not a big problem.

He kissed your back as your skin became exposed to him. With a swift movement taking your panties off and throwing them somewhere easy to spot, to not forget to take them later.

You had to tell him to take his clothes off so you could catch a break, otherwise he would have took you there from how impatient he was.

You just stood there, at the edge of his bed, one leg over the other and looking at him trying to take off his tie faster. He really had to wear a fucking suit, now look at him, he was about to rip it off him. And look at you, you look so calm about this, enjoying seeing him struggle while he was losing his mind. "Undress me." he looked down at you, taking a few steps closer to you, and taking your hand in his and placing over his white shirt to unbutton it.

You might as well do it, you don't see why not. But the problem was him and his stubbornness. Kissing you, almost pushing you in bed while you were just trying to do as he said. It took a long time, and the task seemed to never end, but here you were now, with him on top of you and making you wrap your legs around him. No fancy party could make him miss this, in fact he couldn't even care about that damn premiere to begin with.

His hands were traveling on your body, touching you in some of his favorite places. You were so warm, he couldn't help himself. How you gasp whenever he's groping you, dragging you closer to him so he could feel you even closer, even if there was no more space left between the two of you.

"Put it in already." you demanded, but he wasn't going to just give it to you yet. What if you struggle like last time? He can't let you say such dirty words again or you might not be able to walk at all tomorrow.

"There's no rush." you can act as cute as you want, he's going to take his time with you. After all, you need to see how good he can treat you, make you feel so good that all you'll remember is his name. He kissed your forehead before he moved his eyes on his hand that was going in between your legs. "Look how wet you are." you were a bit embarrassed about it. "And you said that you don't want me." your body can be more honest sometimes, and he'll love to learn more about it.

He got some of your juices on his fingers, moving it around your clit to see the way your body tensed immediately. Weren't you a needy one? He kissed the side of your face before pushing two of his fingers in, paying attention to the face you were making and at the way you were sucking him in.

He moved his hand at a relatively slow pace, it was more about to make you feel the way you're taking him, how deep his fingers can go compared to yours, or anybody else. You can only feel like this because of him. See the way you're still so tight? That's because he wasn't there to stretch you out the way you needed.

"Keep your eyes open, alright baby?" he spoke to you in a baby voice, making you feel like he was mocking you. "Don't hide from me." can't he just fuck you already? Why was he playing around so much.

You did tried to do as he said, keeping your eyes open and trying to avoid eye contact with him because it made your pissy clench. This was so embarrassing, the way he was taking his sweet time and giving you almost no friction at all, and how he seems to enjoy this. Like torturing you was bringing him pleasure.

He didn't let you say a word and smashed his lips against yours, placing his palm against your clit as he finally started to move like he means it. Curling his fingers up so hard it got you squirming and letting out a few moans. And you never seem to stay in place, moving around and arching your back every time he was hitting something that makes you see stars.

You were a mess, the way you were so wet that your juices got on his bedsheets, and the noises your body makes were so obscene and loud it was hard to ignore.

He noticed the way you look at him, pleading for some mercy like you were at your limit about to break. But there was so much more in you, one orgasm wasn't going to stop him from giving you another. And he swears on his name the next one will be even mind blowing.

That's when he took his hand back to himself, making you sit more comfortably in bed before he positioned back in between your legs. This time he'll make sure you'll stay awake and take all of him, there was no other way.

You looked at his face and then at his cock, at the way he had his head at your entrance, almost pushing it in. You'll take him? Like, you're really going to fit him? "You can do it." he said when he finally pushed some of his cock in. "Fuck." he cursed under his breath. "I know you can do it." he let out a moan, throwing his head back for a moment before moving his eyes back on you. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed and the cutest pout you ever showed him. It was like you really had a death wish, to fuck with his feelings like this and making his dick twitch. If he couldn't control himself any better he would had came right there on the spot. "Too much?" he said as he kept pushing his cock all the way in, making you nod as your words were stuck in your throat. "That's too bad."

You won't see any sympathy from him. Does he even knows what that means to begin with? You're too delicious, and the fact that he could pull even more expressions out of you made him push you over your limits.

So here he was, moving in and out of you way slower than he wants, rubbing your clit with his thumb and observing you like the pervert he is. He was salivating, drooling over your weak form as you showed him your off guard self. His cock twitching every time you let out a moan, and making you jolt at the sensation.

"Does it hurt?" he asked as he kept looking down at you, moving his hips in the same old motion. You nodded again, eyes still closed and biting your lip because of how he made you feel. He'll make it hurt even more, don't think that you can rest yet just because he's going easy on you. Fuck, he wants to sink his teeth into you so bad, leave marks all over your body as he rams his cock in and out of you.

But then you looked at him, big teary doe eyes that had him seeing a flash before him. He almost came, like, he almost cum just because you looked at him. If you want him to keep it together you have to talk some sense into him, because he doesn't think he can recover from that.

"You can move." no, don't give him a green light. Torment him more, play with his feeling and edge him till he's losing his damn mind. Don't be so sweet to him, he'll end up locking you up if you do that.

He pressed his chest against yours, his mouth finding yours as he started kissing you like the most starved man on earth. He moved his hips without a warning, slamming into you like you were his toy, and yet demanding for your touch. He was pushing himself into you, trying to steal the air away from your lungs as he seemed more desperate with each thrust.

He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to snap at him and push him off, or tell him that's he's being too rough so he could stop being so delusional. But you didn't, only dragging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him just as needy as he was, both of you being a moaning mess. And not letting go of each other even after you came, wanting to feel even more. To cum again and again, and to be filled by him to the brim, even if you knew that would bring you some serious problems later when you finally come back to your senses.

The next day you woke up with a sore body, your skin aching all over the place, and barely being able to get up the bed.

That didn't stopped you from getting dressed with some clothes you found around the room, what you can only assume it was his since they were way too big.

You got out the room, in hope to find your phone or maybe the white haired man so he could get you back home. And now you were in the living room, looking around for your things. Instead finding a letter, that seemed way too familiar.

That handwriting, you could recognize it everywhere. And that damn signature, the fucking S.

It was one of the letters he didn't managed to 'give' it to you yet. And honestly, you don't know if you should be relieved or terrified because this one was worse than anything before.

You turned around, paper still in your hand and looking at the tall guy who had his back pressed against the wall. He was expressionless, no thoughts behind his head as he seemed to stare at you like he was looking into the void.

It was him, that damn son of a bitch. He played with you all this time and you had no idea.

"I made you breakfast." he said, not every caring if you found out about his doings or not. "Come while it's still hot." he let out a laugh at your expression. You never hold back, do you? Can you at least try to not look like your about to kill him?

[leonsgfpost]

note: Hi! this is my third official post, crazy stuff. Thanks so much for all the support, I didn't think my trash was any good 😭 Btw, I hope you enjoy this too. English isn't my first language, so sorry if there's a mistake. 💕

tags: smut, comfort, insecurities, Leon is so cute, Leon x fem! reader, doggy style, orgasms and more!

Leon loves you madly. He really does. So every time you ask that question, "Do you love me?" he answers honestly, just because he can't tear his heart out and give it to you.

This man is capable of lowering the moon if you ask him to, he would do anything for you. He is honest, he doesn't lie. He wakes you up with soft kisses, on his days off he hugs you as if you were the only thing that keeps him grounded. You are everything to him.

And it's not that you doubt him, but different situations in your past led you to be insecure, to a sour whirlpool forming inside you about it. About him. Even now, when he's balls-deep inside you.

"Leon, Leon-" You murmured between ragged gasps, feeling his chest pressing hard against your back holding you in place. Taking every thrust he gave you. "Do you love me-?" And that feeling inside you came again. You felt like crying. Maybe from the pleasure, or maybe from the overwhelming sensations.

For a moment you think he doesn't hear you because of his current state. Heavy breathing, eyes tightly closed, body sweaty and his mind blank every time he sinks down to touch that spongy spot inside you.

But he wouldn't miss a hair of yours.

"I love you, I do, dear.... More than anything." He affirmed again, because he would repeat it to you every time you want. And the question sounds unreal in his fucked up head, of course he loves you. You're the only person he can open up to, show that young man who died inside him in 1998. He even took the audacity to have hopes, dreams again. Because next to you nothing seemed impossible.

"I love you, I love you." He murmured in your ear along with the low moans he couldn't contain, not when your walls were sucking him in so good. And I'd be lying if I said not now he's the one who wants to cry. He'd kiss every part of your body, kiss you all over until he could make you forget everything. Just like he does when he's with you.

His hips try to keep his deep rhythm, while his arms search for a way to embrace you to keep him grounded. Your ass is smacked by his pelvis every time he plunges in, over and over again with ambition. The wet sound of your wet pussy is the complete opposite of the cute words coming from Leon's lips.

"You're the only one for me, you're everything to me...Oh, G-God-" Now he started to ramble, trying to get his whole cock inside you until he can fuck your brains out and make you forget.

"Fuck, I love you, baby-!" His voice was already shaking, but I didn't know if it was from the effort of pushing you or the effort not to cry over you like a fucking baby.

"C-Come on, say you love me too." His voice tried to sound demanding, but it sounded like a plea. A desperate plea to know that you loved him too, because he wanted to be loved. He needed it.

"I love you, Leon. I-I love you, I love you so much." You said obediently, your voice coming out choked from having your face buried in the sheets. Your hair was disheveled, little beads of sweat trickling down your back and trembling thighs trying to support your weight. And little tears began to fill the corners of your eyes.

Maybe he had already fucked your brains out.

And Leon's chest tightened, pushing his lips carelessly into your hot cheeks. He was always so sweet even when he was fucking you like you were a slut. His cock bullying your bruised pussy again and again, because he couldn't catch a break. You were the air he needed to feel alive.

You made him feel alive.

As alive as he was now, as his hips began to quiver and his thrusts became sloppy, feeling his cock contracting tightly inside your walls. He could lose his mind right now for you.

His fingers moved down to play with your painfully throbbing clit, you let out a high pitched moan and your walls tightened feeling the familiar euphoria explode inside you, your orgasm coming in a sloppy way. Your body immediately relaxed into the sheets, trying to recover, but Leon wouldn't slow down, not when he was so close too.

He released your clit to run a sticky hand up to one of your tits, kneading it as if it were his own anti-stress toy. He carelessly kissed your wet cheeks and his hips pushed all the way in, releasing all his seed inside you. His cock contracted and discounted with spasms, giving you all of him.

"I love you." He whispered weakly, hugging you and trying not to fall on top of you. His heart beating fast in his chest, beating for you.

Because Leon Scott Kennedy loves you more than anyone. And he would devote every day of the rest of his life to prove it to you, if you let him.

were there too many "I love you"s? haha, sorry! But I can't help but think that Leon really needs a lot of love.

Let me know if u liked this, thanks!! 🎀💗

bye, bye (💌)

[eu-nicola]

not yours part 3

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: cheating maybe (yes)

word counter: 8960

author’s note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @immyowndefender @tmlinsito

The days began to change subtly, as if something in the air had become different. Rafe was moving away from Sofia, but not in an obvious way. At first, they were small details that went unnoticed: messages that arrived late, plans that were cancelled with a vague excuse, and an increasingly frequent absent look.

Sofia, always sure of her relationship, tried to justify it. Maybe he was busy, maybe he needed time for himself. But with each passing day, the uneasiness grew in her, until she could no longer ignore it. There was something that didn't fit, a distance that wasn't there before.

One afternoon, while they were at your house, you noticed how his gestures had changed. His eyes no longer shone with the same confidence as before, and his hands nervously played with the cup of coffee. Although she tried to appear calm, the weight of doubt was wearing her down.

In silence, you listened to his words. She told you what had been going on: the distance, the excuses, the feeling that Rafe was somewhere else even when they were together.

Guilt settled in your chest. You knew that you had contributed, however silently, to that gap that now existed between them. Ever since that night when you almost crossed a line with Rafe, everything had changed. You had done everything you could to distance yourself, avoiding encounters, making excuses not to be around them. But the truth kept chasing you, and it seemed to be catching up with Rafe too.

Sofia tried to understand it, justify it, find a reason that would give her peace. But there was none. Rafe was distant because his mind was stuck somewhere else… or someone else.

“He’s always been so attentive to me,” she began, searching your eyes as if she could find an answer in them. “But now… now I barely feel him around.”

He asked you for advice, but you drew a blank. What could you say to him? The words seemed to get stuck in your throat, unable to come out.

You tried to comfort her. You told her that maybe it was a phase, that all couples go through difficult times. You assured her that Rafe loved her, even though your own words sounded hollow to you. Sofia wanted to believe it, and you wanted her to, because facing the truth would be too complicated.

You hugged her, trying to convey a security you didn’t feel. You knew she trusted you, that she always had. But this time, you felt like you were betraying that trust, caught between loyalty to your friend and the emotions that tied you to Rafe.

When Sofia left that afternoon, you were left alone, with too many thoughts running through your mind. Guilt invaded you once again.

Later that same night, your phone vibrated. It was a text from Rafe.

“Can we talk?”

You stared at the screen, hesitating. You knew the right thing to do would be to ignore it, to keep the distance you had tried to establish. But something inside you, that attraction you had been denying, made you hesitate.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you finally wrote, trying to maintain the firmness that was already beginning to fade.

The answer came almost immediately. "Please."

Your phone screen remained lit with Rafe’s last message. “Please,” he had typed. Just two words that echoed in your mind, like an echo that refused to go away. You tried to ignore it, to remember all the reasons why you shouldn’t get involved, but something in you gave in. Something always gave in when it came to him.

Finally, you gave in. You texted him a brief “Okay,” and before you could think twice, he replied with a clear address. “Come to my house. Sofia won’t be in tonight.”

Guilt crawled under your skin as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys. You knew you shouldn’t go, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own. You walked through the door of your house, knowing that at the end of this night, nothing would get better.

When you arrived at the mansion, the air was thick, heavy with unspoken words and repressed feelings. Rafe was waiting for you at the entrance, his intense gaze fixed on you from the moment you got out of the car. You didn't say anything at first, just walked in with a firm step, as if the decision to go there didn't weigh on you as much as it actually did.

The door closed behind you with a dry sound, isolating you from the outside world, leaving you alone with him and with everything you had tried to avoid. Rafe led you to the living room, but the silence you shared was too tense to be comfortable.

"Why did you ask me to come?" you finally said, breaking the silence, your voice a little rougher than you had planned. You didn't want to smooth things over, because this time he had to hear the truth.

"Because I wanted to see you," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He came closer, crossing the distance between you as if there was no moral or emotional barrier separating you.

You took a step back. "You can't keep doing this, Rafe." It’s not right. Sofia is worried, and you just walk away from her without any explanation. It’s wrong what you’re doing.

He frowned, but he didn’t seem surprised. He was used to people telling him he was wrong, but he rarely cared.

“It’s not that simple,” he replied calmly, almost as if he didn’t want to argue.

“Yes, she is,” you insisted, crossing your arms in front of you like a protective barrier. “If you don’t want to be with her, tell her. Don’t leave her hanging, wondering what she did wrong.” Don't be a coward."

Your words were harsh, but honest. You couldn't stand to see Sofia suffer because of someone who didn't have the decency to be honest with her.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. That look... that damn look that always seemed to pierce through you, read every corner of your thoughts.

"You think it's that easy?" he finally said, his voice low but laden with something deeper, something that seemed about to explode. "You think I don't know what I'm doing? But every time I'm with her, I only think about you."

Your breathing stopped for a second. You didn't expect him to say it, at least not so directly. You knew there was something between you, a tension you couldn't deny, but hearing it out loud made it all too real.

"That's not an excuse," you replied, though your voice trembled slightly. "Sofia doesn't deserve this, Rafe. She trusts you. She trusts me. We can't do this to him."

He came closer again, more determined this time, and you didn't pull away. His eyes searched yours, his face just a few inches from yours. You could feel his breathing, the heat radiating from his body, and your heart began to pound.

"I don't care," he murmured, with an intensity that completely disarmed you. "I don't care what I should do. All I want now is to be with you."

His confession fell upon you like a storm, dark and electrifying. You knew that at that moment you should walk away, get out of that house and leave it all behind. But your feet remained motionless, as if a part of you was also trapped in that forbidden desire.

"This... can't happen," you whispered, trying to hold on to the last shred of reason you had left.

Rafe raised a hand, gently brushing your cheek, and the contact made you close your eyes for a second. "But it's already happening," he said with a certainty that made you He shuddered.

You opened your eyes and took a step back, breaking contact. “No. I have to go.”

Rafe didn’t try to stop you this time, but the intensity of his gaze continued to haunt you as you walked away. Your steps felt heavy, as if leaving him behind required titanic strength. When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You knew the right thing to do was to walk away, but the desire you had tried to bury was awakening, and you couldn’t deny that something inside you was changing.

That night, when you finally returned home, you sat on your bed, your heart still pounding. You had distanced yourself from Rafe, but you knew that distance wouldn’t be enough to stop what was growing between you. And, for the first time, you realized that maybe you couldn’t control what you felt anymore.

The days that followed became a silent storm inside you. Every moment was a constant struggle between guilt, desire, and responsibility. You had managed to physically distance yourself from him that night, but the emotional burden remained, growing with every thought, with every furtive glance you remembered, with every heartbeat that quickened as you received his messages.

The hardest thing was being close to Sofia. You felt trapped in a labyrinth of contradictory emotions, having to be her support while your own stability was shaky. She trusted you, depended on you, and you did everything you could to be by her side. But every word of comfort you offered to her tore you apart a little more inside. How could you be a support for her when you yourself were on the verge of collapse?

You spent hours with Sofia, listening to her worries, her fears. Rafe had become distant, and she didn't understand why. He told you how things had changed between them, how every day he seemed further away, colder. And you knew it. You knew exactly why he was pulling away, and that knowledge weighed on you like a stone in your chest.

There were times when you wanted to tell her the truth, to confess what was going on, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You couldn't destroy her like that. So you stayed silent, nodded, and held her when she broke down in front of you, as if that was enough to keep her whole.

Until one afternoon, while you were at her house, Sofia surprised you with an idea you weren't expecting.

"I've been thinking about doing something special for Rafe," she began, with a smile that seemed forced but full of hope. "Something to help us reconnect. A romantic getaway, just the two of us. Something spontaneous, different."

Just hearing her talk about him that way made your stomach turn.

“Do you think that will work?” you asked, trying to sound neutral, even though you knew your voice betrayed some disbelief.

Sofia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I think we need to get out of here, away from everything.” Maybe a change of scenery will help us remember why we're together in the first place."

You nodded slowly, not knowing what to say. The thought of the two of them, together, trying to save their relationship, should have relieved you, should have given you hope that everything would go back to normal. But it didn't. Instead, you felt a knot form in your stomach.

"I want you to come with us," he said suddenly, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

The surprise took your breath away. "What?"

Sofia looked at you with an almost pleading expression. "Yes, I want you to come. I know you've been distant lately, and I don't know why, but I think being in a different place will do you good. We could relax, have fun like before.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, processing his words. Going with them… on a romantic getaway. Being a third presence on a trip that should be just for the two of them. It all seemed absurd, out of place.

"I don't think it's a good idea." "I don't think so," you finally answered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. "It's a trip for you two, I have nothing to do there."

Sofia shook her head quickly. "It's not absurd. You're my best friend, and Rafe appreciates you too. Besides, it could be fun. I don't want you to be alone, and I know you're not at your best either." This could help us both.”

Her words left you speechless. Maybe for her, your presence would be a safety net of sorts, someone to lean on if things didn’t go her way.

And you… you were trapped. You couldn’t refuse without raising suspicion, without her wondering what was really going on.

“Okay,” you finally said, even though every fiber of your being screamed for you not to. “I’ll go.”

Sofia smiled, relieved, and you forced a smile in response. As Sofia began to talk excitedly about plans, you could only think about what was coming next.

From the moment you accepted Sofia’s invitation, you knew exactly what was going to happen. You had tried to ignore it, to pretend that maybe things would be different, that you could keep the emotional distance you had built with so much effort. But reality haunted you, and with each passing day, that certainty became harder to ignore.

Days later, as you absentmindedly checked your phone, Rafe's message appeared like a shadow you couldn't avoid:

"I can't wait to see you on the trip."

Your heart stopped for a second. There was no formality, no context, just that message, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be eager to see you.

You didn't respond. It wasn't worth it. You would leave that message on read, buried among unimportant notifications, as if ignoring it could take away its weight.

And yet, you couldn't get it out of your head. Over the next few days, as you helped Sofia with the preparations for the trip, as you pretended to be excited about the getaway, that message was still there, latent, like a constant reminder of what awaited you.

Finally, the day of departure arrived. The chosen destination was a private island, a paradise hidden in the crystal-clear waters of somewhere not so far away. It was the kind of place only the rich and privileged could afford, with white sand beaches stretching as far as the eye could see, luxurious villas surrounded by lush vegetation, and a tranquility that seemed alien to the real world.

The plan sounded perfect. For Sofia, it was the ideal opportunity to reconnect with Rafe, to get away from everything that had been distancing them. For you, it was a gilded cage, a scenario where everything could go wrong.

You were nervous. You couldn't deny that the idea of ​​being so close to Rafe, sharing the same space, made you uneasy. Every time you thought about him, about his gaze, about the way he seemed to seek you out even when he shouldn't, a wave of anxiety ran through your body.

But you promised yourself that you wouldn't let it bother you. You wouldn't give it power over you. You wouldn't allow this trip to become anything more than what it was meant to be: a getaway with your friend, nothing more.

The day started early. Rafe picked you up with Sofia in his car, both ready to leave. Sofia was beaming, excited about the adventure that awaited them. You, on the other hand, kept a measured smile, trying not to let your thoughts betray you.

“Ready for a few days of paradise?” Sofia asked, with a smile that reflected all her excitement.

“More than ready,” you answered, with an enthusiasm that you didn’t quite feel. Your eyes avoided Rafe’s, who remained silent, driving with a calm expression.

The trip to the private port was short, but every second in that car made you feel as if the air became denser, heavier. Rafe didn’t say much, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

When they arrived at the port, a private yacht was waiting for them, ready to take them to the island. The luxury was overwhelming: an elegant vessel, with polished wood interiors, spacious rooms, and staff ready to attend to their every wish.

The trip on the yacht was as beautiful as it was uncomfortable. Sofia settled down on the deck, enjoying the sun and the sea breeze. You joined her, trying to relax, but you constantly felt Rafe’s gaze on you, as if he was waiting for something, as if the silence between you was a conversation in itself. 

When you finally arrived at the island, the place was even more stunning than you had imagined. The private villa was surrounded by palm trees, with an infinity pool that seemed to merge with the sea. From the balcony, the view was simply perfect: a clear horizon, the sky painted blue, and the sound of the waves like a constant melody. 

Sofia was delighted. “Look at this! It’s even better than I imagined.”

You nodded, pretending to be just as excited, while inside you tried to prepare yourself for what was to come. You knew you would be together, that you would share moments where the line between right and wrong would blur even further. And yet, you were there.

The afternoon passed in apparent calm. You swam in the pool, walked along the beach, tried to distract yourself with anything. But every time Rafe came closer, every time his presence became unavoidable, an electric current seemed to run through the air.

It wasn't the place, nor the time. It was him. It was what he provoked in you, that attraction that you had tried to deny but that grew stronger and stronger.

As night began to fall, you promised yourself that you would keep your distance. You wouldn't let anything happen. You wouldn't let it happen to yourself.

When night came, dinner was quiet, the table was set on the terrace, overlooking the beach and the moonlit ocean. The air was warm, and the sea breeze blew gently, filling the air with the soothing sound of waves breaking on the shore.

Sofia talked animatedly about the day, grateful for the trip she had planned. His voice had a mix of excitement and hope, as if this place could fix everything he felt was falling apart. Rafe, on the other hand, was more reserved, listening in silence, his gaze occasionally lost in the horizon or sometimes fixed on you for a few seconds that seemed eternal. 

You finished the last sip of your glass of wine when you decided it was time to leave them alone. Sofia had planned this trip to be with him, to reconnect, and you didn't want to be another obstacle. 

"I'm going to take a walk on the beach," you said in a casual tone, leaving the napkin on the table and standing up. You smiled slightly at Sofia. "I'll leave you two alone for a while." 

She looked at you with a mix of gratitude and relief. "Thank you." 

Rafe just nodded, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before returning to his plate. 

You didn't wait for an answer. You walked away from the table, crossing the terrace and descending the wooden path that led directly to the beach. The night air was cool and pleasant, and as you approached the sand, you felt each step take you a little further from the weight you carried.

The beach was completely empty, an endless stretch of white sand that sparkled under the moonlight. The sky was clear, and the stars seemed to flicker with an intensity you had rarely seen.

You walked slowly, letting your feet sink into the soft sand, enjoying the feeling of freedom that only this place could give you. The sound of the waves, the salty scent of the sea, the pleasant cold on your skin... everything seemed to conspire to offer you a moment of peace.

You stopped at a point where the shore met the tide, letting the water lap at your bare feet. You looked up at the sky, noticing the moon illuminating everything with its silver light. There was something comforting about its presence, something that made you feel less alone, less trapped in your own thoughts.

You had lost track of time on the beach, wrapped in that calm that you had needed so much. The sound of the waves, the reflection of the moon on the water, the coolness of the night... everything seemed to have conspired to stop the world for a while. You felt good, at peace, something you had not experienced for a long time.

You didn't know how much time you had spent there, alone, with your bare feet sunk in the wet sand and your gaze lost on the horizon. The world seemed so far away, and for a moment you allowed yourself to forget everything: the doubts, the tensions, the mixed emotions.

It was then that you heard footsteps behind you. Light, careful, as if the person approaching did not want to break the tranquility of the night. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was. You felt it before you saw it.

“Where is Sofia?” you asked, not looking at him, keeping your eyes fixed on the ocean that stretched out before you.

“Sleeping,” Rafe answered in a low voice, almost in a whisper that mixed with the sound of the sea.

His answer made you realize how long you had been there. Longer than you had imagined.

“Maybe I should go to sleep too,” you said as you slowly turned to look at him.

Rafe was standing a few feet away from you, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on you. There was something different in his eyes, something softer, less tense.

“Will you stay with me for a moment?” he asked, his tone calm but with a nuance that made you hesitate.

You thought about it for a few seconds. You knew that staying was risky, that the line you had tried so hard not to cross could easily blur. But there was also something in his voice, in his gaze, that made you give in.

“It’s okay,” you finally replied, turning back to the sea as he came over and sat down beside you on the sand.

Silence settled between you, but this time it wasn’t awkward. On the contrary, there was something comforting about that shared stillness, as if you could finally be together without the weight of everything around you. For the first time in a long time, the usual tension was gone.

You both stared out at the ocean, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between you. There was no need to speak, no need to explain. You were just there, in that moment, sharing a pause amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, without warning, Rafe reached out a hand and splashed some water towards you. It wasn’t much, just a few drops, but enough to make you turn your head and look at him in surprise.

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but unable to help a small smile.

Rafe smiled too, a genuine smile, free of the shadows he often carried. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten everything.

“I couldn’t resist,” he replied in an amused tone.

You decided not to be left behind. You quickly stood up and ran towards the water, wetting your hands before spraying a jet directly onto his shirt. Rafe stood up immediately, with an expression of mock indignation.

“Now you’re in trouble,” he said, advancing towards you while you retreated, laughing, with the water caressing your feet.

What followed was a game, an improvised battle on the shore, with both of you splashing each other, laughing as if you were children. The worries, the tensions, the doubts... everything was left behind in those minutes when there was only the two of you and the ocean.

Rafe seemed different, freer, more alive. And you... you felt light, as if you had finally found a respite in the middle of everything. Laughter filled the night, and for an instant, everything was fine.

Finally, you both stopped, soaked and panting slightly from laughter and exhaustion. Rafe looked at you, his smile still present, and for a moment the world seemed to stop again.

“Do you regret staying?” he asked quietly.

You thought about it for a moment, looking into his eyes, still feeling the tickle of laughter in your chest.

“No... not this time,” you answered, letting the peace of that moment envelop you once again.

After that little water fight, the breeze became cooler and calm settled between you again. You both remained silent, sitting on the sand, watching the sky begin to take on soft tones with the arrival of dawn.

Rafe stood beside you, relaxed but silent, watching the horizon. Despite the peace that surrounded you, tiredness began to take hold of you. The night had been long, and although the moment shared with him had been unexpectedly pleasant, your body was asking for rest.

“I think that’s enough for today… I’m tired,” you murmured softly, breaking the silence as you slowly stood up, shaking the sand from your hands.

Rafe stood beside you, with that carefree air he always seemed to carry with him. He didn’t say anything, simply nodded and began to walk beside you towards the house. The walk was quiet, accompanied only by the distant sound of the waves and the song of the first birds that announced the morning.

When they reached the house, they both climbed the stairs in silence, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the soft creaking of the wood. In front of the door to your room, you stopped, giving him one last look before saying goodbye. But before you could say anything, Rafe moved a little closer, leaning towards you naturally.

His lips brushed your cheek in a soft, brief kiss. It was an unexpected gesture, almost innocent, but it left you completely taken aback. The warmth of his touch was marked on your skin for a few seconds longer than it should have.

“Good night,” he murmured in a low, calm voice, as if it meant nothing.

You didn’t know what to answer. For a moment, your mind went blank, searching for some meaning in that kiss you hadn’t anticipated. But before you could say anything, Rafe had already turned around and started to walk away, walking down the hall as calmly as he had arrived.

You closed the door behind you, leaning your back against it, feeling a mix of emotions you couldn’t define. You had spent the entire night trying to keep things under control, reminding yourself not to cross any lines. However, that small gesture—so simple and yet so full of meaning—had shattered the apparent calm you were trying to build.

You brought a hand to your cheek, as if you wanted to check that it had really happened. The kiss had been brief, but the confusion it left in its place seemed endless. You didn't say anything, because at that moment, not even you knew what it meant.

When morning came, the sun shone brightly, illuminating the landscape imposingly as the fresh morning air swept through the palms of the tall palm trees surrounding the house. However, inside you, there was a palpable tension, as if everything that had dissipated the night before had returned to its natural state, denser than ever.

Rafe seemed as distant as ever, but now, every glance, every gesture on his part, caused a knot in your stomach. The kiss on your cheek seemed to have awakened something in him, although you didn't know exactly what.

You were all together in the kitchen, preparing breakfast while the sound of the coffee maker filled the space with its comforting aroma. Sofia was animated, chatting about trivial things, oblivious to what was really happening between you and Rafe. She seemed completely immune to the atmosphere that had changed between the three of you. You laughed with her, mechanically responding to her comments, but everything in you was distracted, focused on the small space you shared with Rafe. 

He moved around the kitchen with that same calmness as always, but there was something in his attitude that got on your nerves. He gave you fleeting glances, not with the same nonchalance as before, but as if he were evaluating something that he himself could not understand. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. 

Sofia didn't notice anything. She was absorbed in the conversation, asking if you wanted to go out to explore the place after breakfast, always so cheerful, so oblivious to the discomfort that was beginning to form a thick layer between you and Rafe. Sometimes, it felt like the friendship you and Sofia shared was cracking with each moment you spent alone with him.

You sat down at the table, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the air around you felt. Rafe finally broke the silence, speaking calmly, as if nothing had happened, as if everything was fine. 

The conversation continued as if nothing had happened. Sofia was delighted, oblivious to everything, and you simply tried hard to go with the flow. 

The rest of the day passed like a routine, but one that felt forced and artificial. You were with them, yes, but you felt distant, as if an invisible cloak separated you from Sofia and Rafe. 

When you found the atmosphere becoming uncomfortable or you felt trapped, you took the opportunity to escape. You went out to the garden or to the beach, walking aimlessly, breathing deeply to clear your mind. You needed those moments of solitude, those moments when you could calm your thoughts and get away from the chaos that formed when the three of you were together. 

Despite your escapes, Sofia seemed to be calmer, happier even. Her eyes sparkled as she talked about Rafe, and she enthusiastically told him how everything in the relationship seemed to be improving. The trip, apparently, was helping, as she said. Sofia's smile was easier to see, and the small tensions between her and Rafe seemed to have dissolved, at least in his presence.

At night, while Sofia and Rafe stayed in the house, laughing, or simply cozying up together in front of a movie or on the terrace, you left early. You didn't want to be there, you didn't want to be the spectator of something you couldn't control, that you didn't know how to handle.

Despite the apparent normality that Sofia and Rafe achieved in the moments they spent together, Rafe always came back to you, and no matter how much you tried to escape the tension that was brewing between the two of you, he found a way to get close again, as if there was something inside him that he couldn't ignore.

It was in those moments that you felt that strange mix of attraction and frustration, when he sought you out in those small moments of silence or in the casual exchanges that never seemed to be casual. You felt it in the way he looked at you, that intense gaze that you sometimes avoided, but that you couldn’t help but notice. Every time your eyes met his, the world around you seemed to disappear, leaving you alone with that warm but dangerous feeling that invaded your chest.

He did it without saying a word, just with his presence. Sometimes it was a simple gesture, like when he passed by you and his arm brushed yours, or when he asked you something in a low voice, just enough for you to hear. Other times it was more obvious, when he asked you to accompany him to a secluded corner or when, for no apparent reason, he stayed by your side for longer than necessary, as if he enjoyed the discomfort it caused. 

Even when you tried not to pay attention to him, he kept coming back. You saw it in his messages, the ones he sent with a disturbing naturalness, as if it were normal after everything that had happened. Sometimes you answered them, other times you simply read them and left them unanswered. But he kept looking for an excuse to get closer, always in those moments when you thought you had finally gotten far enough away. 

It was as if, despite everything that was between you, he couldn't stop coming back. And you, even though you tried to fight your own feelings, couldn't help but feel like he knew it too. He knew that, somehow, you always came back to him. And the worst of all was that, even though you tried to resist, you felt attracted too. 

The next day, it was one of those afternoons where the heat of the sun was beginning to wane, and the breeze coming from the sea made the walk more pleasant. You, Rafe and Sofia were walking along a path next to the beach, enjoying a landscape that seemed straight out of a postcard. Sofia, with her usual energy, was talking non-stop with Rafe. They walked slightly ahead of you, while you stayed a few steps behind, distracted by your phone, answering messages and scrolling through social media without paying too much attention to the conversation. 

You weren't really there. Or at least, that's what you tried to be. It was easier this way, less complicated. 

At one point, Sofia stopped to look at some stones that had caught her attention. He walked away a few meters, bending down to pick up a small shell that was shining in the sun. He took the opportunity to take some photos, always attentive to such things.

Meanwhile, Rafe didn't waste a second. He looked down at the ground and saw a small wild flower growing next to the path. It was simple, with white petals and a yellow center, nothing special, but enough to catch his attention. He quickly bent down and plucked it. At first you thought he was going to give it to Sofia, like any boyfriend would do at that moment. It was logical, what anyone would have expected.

But no. It wasn't Sofia he gave it to.

It was you.

Rafe turned slightly and handed you the flower with a disconcerting calm, as if that gesture meant nothing, but in fact it said everything. His eyes met yours for a brief second, a second that seemed longer than it should have been. He didn't say anything, there was no need. You looked at him, surprised, and he just smiled with that expression that seemed to challenge you, that seemed to know exactly what he was doing. 

For a moment, your mind went blank. You didn't know how to react. You couldn't reject it, but you couldn't openly accept it either. So you took the flower, your fingers brushing his for just an instant. The contact was as brief as it was significant. 

With the flower in your hand, you quickly looked over to where Sofia was, making sure she hadn't seen anything. She was still distracted with the shell and the photos, not paying attention to what was happening between you. Your heart was beating a little faster than normal, as if the simple act of receiving that flower was a secret you shouldn't share. 

Not knowing what to do with it, you put it in the back pocket of your shorts, hiding it, but not throwing it away. You didn’t want to get rid of it, even though you knew you should.

You continued walking down the path until you finally arrived back at the house. The sun was beginning to descend on the horizon, tinting the sky in golden and pink hues, creating a perfect atmosphere for a quiet afternoon.

Sofia was the first to propose that you stay outside, on the sand, to enjoy the sunset. You and Rafe agreed, and the three of you settled down on a blanket spread out near the porch. A small cooler with beers sat to one side, and you each took one to relax as the day slowly gave way to night.

The sound of the sea was constant, a soft murmur filling the air.

You sat cross-legged, the cold beer in your hands and the small flower Rafe had given you earlier resting on your knee. At first, you tried not to pay too much attention to it, but before you knew it, you started playing with it. Your fingers gently twirled it, bending the petals, as if you were absorbed in your own thoughts.

Rafe was sitting next to you, closer than you should be comfortable with, but the truth was that you had stopped caring about the closeness. Without saying anything, he looked away at you, watching as you manipulated the flower. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers with an attention that was not casual. It wasn't the flower that interested him, it was the fact that you had kept it. That small gesture meant something, even if neither of you mentioned it.

For her part, Sofia seemed completely oblivious to the subtle tension that was forming between you. She talked about how relaxing it was to be there, about how the trip was helping to disconnect from everything. You nodded and smiled when appropriate, but in reality you were caught up in your own thoughts.

The afternoon passed slowly, between scattered conversations and the constant opening of beers. When it was finally time to eat, they decided to stay outside. Rafe lit a small improvised campfire, and they ate there, with the cool night air beginning to envelop them.

After eating, Sofia was the first to suggest getting into the water. You thought the idea was a good one. There was something liberating about submerging yourself in the sea under the dim light of the night sky. You took off your clothes, leaving you in your bikini, and walked into the water. 

Rafe watched you from where he was sitting, his eyes following you in a way he hadn't done so openly before. It wasn't the first time he'd seen you in a bikini, but this time there was something different in his gaze. An intensity that wasn't there before, an attention that was now impossible to ignore. 

It didn't bother you. You could feel his gaze on you, but you decided not to give it any importance. You weren't looking for his attention, or at least, that's what you told yourself. You entered the water, letting the freshness of the sea envelop you, trying to disconnect, to forget for a moment everything that was happening. 

Soon after, Rafe joined you. He swam close, not enough to invade your space, but close enough that his presence was unavoidable. The moonlight was beginning to reflect off the surface of the water, and the atmosphere felt strange, almost unreal. Sofia, meanwhile, stood on the shore, laughing and playing with the waves that barely touched her feet.

Rafe watched you silently, as if he were debating something internally. But he didn't say anything. And neither did you. You just floated there, in that moment suspended in time, where everything seemed about to change, but nothing did.

It was close to 1 a.m. when Sofia decided it was time to go to sleep. She got up, drying her feet and shaking the sand off her legs before approaching you.

"I'm going to bed," she told you.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. You were tired, and that whole day had been confusing enough that you wanted to finally disconnect.

"Yeah, I think I'm going too," you answered, slowly getting up as Sofia called Rafe to join her as well.

He was sitting on the sand, his eyes fixed on the dark horizon of the sea, as if he were lost in some deep thought. He turned his head towards her, with a calm expression, and simply said:

“I'll stay a little longer.”

Sofia didn't insist. She smiled and disappeared towards the house, leaving only her footprints in the sand. You followed her with your gaze, with the firm intention of doing the same, of returning and closing the day. But when you took a step towards the house, something inside you made you stop.

You turned slowly, your bare feet returning to the cold sand, and without saying anything you returned to the water. You didn't want to think too much about what you were doing. The water was calm, a dark expanse that blended with the sky, and when you entered, the cold ran through your skin, waking you up completely.

Rafe saw you return. He didn't ask anything. He simply stood up and followed you, entering the water beside you. The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. There was a different energy, a tension that needed no words.

You felt him close, his presence inescapable. You wanted to ignore him, to keep your distance, but every fiber of your being was aware of him. His eyes searched for you in the darkness, and you, despite everything, avoided looking directly at him.

Until you couldn’t take it anymore. You felt his hand reach out to you, his fingers brushing your arm with a softness that was almost imperceptible, but enough to make you stop. You didn’t move away. You let him touch you because, deep down, you wanted him to.

Rafe approached slowly, the water barely reaching the height of his hips when he took you by the waist, with a firmness that you hadn’t expected, but that you didn’t reject. You stood still, your breathing getting heavier, the air between you getting thicker.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

You heard him, but you didn’t respond. Not because you didn’t have something to say, but because you didn’t want to break the moment. His words were a confession you’d been waiting for, even though you were afraid to hear them.

And then, without warning, Rafe kissed you. It was a kiss that didn’t seek permission, that didn’t hesitate. His lips found yours with a need you’d felt in yourself for days, but had repressed.

And you… you let him. Because you couldn’t take it anymore. Because you wanted it.

The kiss was intense, charged with everything you’d both been repressing. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The water surrounded you, cold and silent, but everything about you was fire, heat, desire.

After what seemed like an eternity, you parted slightly, your breaths mingling, your foreheads resting against each other. You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

They stepped out of the water in silence, their bare feet leaving small footprints in the wet sand. Rafe led you to a dark corner, out of reach of the light coming from the house, where the night seemed more private, more his.

He gently laid you down on the cold sand, his body leaning over yours, but with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. His eyes searched for you in the dim light, and you whispered to him:

“No one’s ever kissed me the way you do.”

These words pierced him. He had no answer. And he kissed you again, and you let him, once again.

The night became denser when the kiss ended. You slowly separated from Rafe, your lips still trembling from the contact, and your eyes, full of emotions you couldn't contain, closed for a moment as you felt silent tears fall down your cheeks.

You didn't want to cry, not like that, not in front of him. But you did. It was inevitable. Guilt and desire intertwined in your chest, drowning you.

Rafe noticed it right away. Without saying anything, his fingers gently brushed your face, drying one of those tears, as if that gesture could erase everything that was going through you.

"I feel bad..." you whispered with a broken voice, barely a murmur that the sound of the sea almost drowned out.

You regretted it. Not just the kiss, but everything that had led up to that moment. Of having let yourself go. Of having crossed a line that you swore you would never cross. Sofia was asleep just a few feet away, trusting you, him, and you had broken that trust.

“I shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have done this,” you added, your gaze fixed on the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

Rafe didn’t look away from you. You could feel his attention, that intensity that always seemed to envelop him, as if the rest of the world didn’t matter when you were around. He placed a firm hand on your cheek, gently forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t feel bad,” he said in a low, serious voice. “I need you more than you know.”

His words were simple, but heavy with weight. You stood still, your thoughts teetering between what was right and what you wanted. You didn’t want to hear that, but at the same time, you had longed for it.

“If this is what you want, I’ll leave Sofia. I’ll do whatever it takes.” His eyes searched yours, looking for an answer, a sign that you could accept what he was willing to offer you.

You shuddered at that. It wasn’t what you wanted, at least not like this. Sofia was your friend, an important part of your life, and you knew how much it would hurt her. The last thing you wanted was to destroy her, to take away something she still believed was hers.

“No…” you answered, shaking your head with a mix of firmness and desperation. “You can’t do that. I don’t want Sofia to suffer. She deserves to be happy.”

Rafe sighed, his frustration evident, but he didn’t let go of you. He moved a little closer, as if his words could convince you.

“You have to be happy too,” he replied with determination. “What about you? Why are you always thinking about everyone but yourself?”

You didn’t know what to say. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. You had spent so much time worrying about others, about keeping Sofia happy, about protecting the friendship, that you had forgotten about yourself, about your own wants and needs. But at what cost?

“I don’t know…” you admitted quietly, feeling each word cost you more.

Rafe leaned closer to you, his eyes locked on yours, his voice softer now, almost whispering:

“When we get back, I’m going to leave her. I can’t keep pretending. I can’t keep walking away from you.”

His words shook you. It was a statement you had feared and hoped for at the same time. Your heart was pounding, while your mind struggled to find an answer, a way out that wouldn’t hurt anyone. But you knew there wasn’t an easy one.

You stayed silent, letting the night breeze wash over you, while Rafe was still there, his hands still on you, his presence unwavering.

The next few days in that paradise you had longed for became a kind of torture. A sweet and bitter torture that seemed to have no end. Every morning, every afternoon, every night, Rafe found a way to get close to you, to seek you out with the slightest excuse. A touch of hands when Sofia wasn’t looking, a look loaded with meaning as you walked together, a stolen kiss in the shadows when the moment allowed it.

You couldn’t help it. He was constant, persistent. He knew exactly how to attract you, how to make you lower the defenses you had built up so much.

One afternoon, while you were on the terrace, watching the calm ocean, Rafe approached with something in his hand. Without saying anything, he placed it in your palm. It was a ring, delicate and beautiful. You looked at it, bewildered.

“Why are you giving me this?” you asked him with a lump in your throat, your fingers closing around the ring.

He didn’t respond with words. She just looked at you, with that mix of desire and determination that worried you so much, as if she were marking a silent promise. You didn't understand why she had it, or why she had given it to you, but there it was, in your trembling hand.

The days passed, and you felt more and more trapped. The sun, the sand, the sea breeze, everything that had seemed perfect to you before now suffocated you. You wanted to go home, return to the routine, to the family chaos, to anything that would allow you to escape this dilemma. Because at home, perhaps, you could separate from Rafe.

Not because you didn't want to, not because his kisses didn't burn your skin or his gaze didn't make you tremble. But because you knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

Sofia was still by your side, oblivious to everything, excited about this trip that she thought was saving her relationship. And every time she looked at you with a grateful smile, you felt the weight of your actions sinking you deeper.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn't seem to feel that weight. He looked for you every moment, as if nothing else mattered. As if he was sure that everything would end well, that when he returned, his life would change, with you by his side. But you didn't share that certainty. You couldn't.

But it didn't matter how much you wanted to deny it. It didn't matter how many times your reason screamed at you that you had to stop, that this wasn't right. Because at the end of the day, none of that seemed enough. You still loved Rafe.

You loved him with an intensity you hadn't felt before, a force that dragged you every time you were near him. It didn't matter how much you told yourself that you had to be strong, that you had to get away. Every time he looked for you, every time he looked at you with those eyes full of desire, you fell again.

His kisses were a trap you didn't want to escape from. His hands on your skin were an anchor that kept you in a place where logic and morality faded away. You liked how he made you feel, how he loved you, how he seemed so sure of what he wanted, of what he wanted with you.

And you... you wanted it too. You wanted it from the first kiss under the shade, from that flower you kept in the back pocket of your shorts. You wanted it from the first touch you shared in secret. You wanted him.

Rafe loved you too. He didn't say it in words, but he showed it to you every time he found a way to be alone with you. In every furtive glance, in every caress when Sofia wasn't there, in every moment when his lips urgently sought yours. He liked loving you. He liked the power you had over him, the way his thoughts revolved around you, leaving everything else in the background.

You knew it was wrong. You knew that every kiss you shared, every moment his hands sought you out, took you further away from what was right, from the loyalty you owed Sofia. But you also knew you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

Every night, when the world fell silent, you thought about it. About how you had crossed that invisible line and how there was no turning back. You were trapped in a dangerous game that neither of you seemed to want to leave. And even though a part of you felt guilty, another part—the one that flared up every time you were with him—didn’t want to let go.

Because in the end, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you should stop. No matter how much your reason screamed at you. You still loved Rafe. And the worst thing was that he loved you too, and that made it impossible to stop.

[strang3lov3]

strang3lov3’s masterlist

I do not give consent for anyone to copy, plagiarize, translate, post my work elsewhere, or put my work into AI chat bots.

all fics are f!reader and I’m a sucker for cream pies. Just pretend Joel/Roman are shooting blanks.

Updated 1/6/2025

Joel Miller

One shots

Lookalike - Joel finds your dirty mag and makes you get off in front of him.

Everyday I’m Shufflin’ - Joel is horrified to find out that you cannot shuffle a deck of cards, so he teaches you in a rather unorthodox way.

Cream (horny husband!joel x reader) Joel is insatiable. He convinces you to get it on at his aunt's house on Thanksgiving. He's also got a lot of dirty Thanksgiving jokes he thought of last year that he's been saving to annoy you.

Fighting Fair - Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Love Spell - (Sex pollen) After eating some mysterious berries, you and Joel spend a very memorable and unexpected Valentine’s Day together

Enjoy the Silence - You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position.

Chevelle - (virginity loss) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money.

Play Stupid Games - who woulda thought you could make Joel come by playing with his nipples?

Dirty Laundry - Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Click Here - You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.

Bite Me - You learn two things on a particularly boring patrol shift - Joel loves to bite and you love to be bitten.

Seeing Red - Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude.

On Display - You crave more than just Joel’s eyes on you, so he gives you an audience.

Safety First - While camping, Joel insists on thoroughly checking you for ticks. Safety first, after all.

Catnap - Joel interrupts your nap on his thighs.

Dinner and a Show - A corrupt FEDRA soldier catches you and Joel sneaking back into the QZ. He’ll look the other way, but you’re gonna make it worth his while.

Bad Habit - Joel helps you to quit smoking.

Bedridden - you knock Joel out with a blowjob to put him to sleep when he’s sick.

Scrub Daddy - QZ Joel visits you for a bath and a little extra.

Jingled Balls - What has four paws and ruins not only Joel’s Christmas, but his orgasm, too?

Series

Dark Daddy!Joel - one shots and a series involving Joel as your father figure who also fucks.

Comfort Zone - sleazy adult store owner!joel au/series Upcoming at some point. I had momentum and then got distracted so it’s on pause.

Lather (abandoned) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🚿🧼💦 part one, part two

Mall Rats(complete) Joel keeps track of you as you search your way through an abandoned mall. You don’t make his job easy. First stop is Victoria’s Secret. Masterlist

Can’t find something? Check my old fics.

Roman Roy

Because my Roman audience is so small, I have a taglist for him. If you leave me a kind/excited comment/rb/ask about my Roman writing I tag you on the next fic 🩷 you’re also welcome to send me a message/ask to join or leave it.

One shots

Invisible Line- boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Raise - Roman will increase your raise substantially, so long as you don't lose his game.

Indecent - Roman manspreads in the hot tub.

Dinner and a Show - Roman, a corrupt FEDRA soldier catches you and Joel sneaking back into the QZ. He’ll look the other way, but you’re gonna make it worth his while.

Dark But Just A Game - you and Roman play tag.

Tear You Apart - Roman hatefucks you.

My Treat - Roman gives you a special present for your birthday whether you want it or not.

Underfoot - you get off on Roman’s shoe.

The First Taste - Roman puts just the tip in (it’s more than just the tip)

Series

Stepdaddy!Roman -(incomplete) You have a weird thing with your stepfather.

Gyno!Roman - mini series coming soon Stalker!Roman coming at some point

-

Jack Delroy

One Shots

Downpour Jack gives you a ride home, pulls over during a storm, and fucks you in his car.

-

Ezra (Prospect)

One Shots

Lavender - Ezra gives you a pleasurable massage.

Rescue Mission - Cock pronouns. Uncle Ezra. Old man dick.

-

Frankie Morales

One shots

The Real Deal - Frankie demonstrates why exactly he’s less than impressed by your rose toy.

[starryal1na]

—❀ ‧₊˚. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔, 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒌

about: you and aventurine's first time making love ♥︎

genre: nsfw (18+ NO MINORS or AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS please, if i see you i will block you)

tags: afab reader, first time for reader, vaginal penetration, implied unprotected sex, handjob, petnames, kisses, handholding

words count: 1.4k

notes: i am nervous as hell since it's my first time writing nsfw and posting it is even more stressful for me (｡﹏｡") this was proofread by me but i'm not an english native so it's possible there are still errors remaining, i apologize for this and i hope it won't prevent you from having a good read <3

(divider by @/cafekitsune)

"Keep those pretty eyes on me," you barely hear the whispered tone directed at your ear as Aventurine brushes the tip of his lenght against your core, slowly entering your welcoming warmth.

"That's it, sweetheart", he mumbles against your swollen lips when you open your eyes to stare right back at him. The stretch between your thighs stings, but Aventurine is careful, keeping his hips still once he bottoms out.

Never breaking eye contact, you manage to bring one hand up to brush the softness of his bangs, leaving your palm on his flushed cheek. Aventurine leans into the gentle gesture, his hips slowly grinding into you. His Avgin eyes are as intense as ever as he searches for any sign of discomfort on your face. "You okay ?"

Brows furrowed in both pain and overgrowing pleasure, you breathlessly mutter a tiny yes as he shifts to kiss your nose. With your confirmation, his hand moves down to your thigh, gently spreading you wider for him. You bite back a moan as he slides out of you only to reclaim your damp core with his own arousal, groaning at your tightness.

"You're perfect for me, my precious gem. Taking it so well" his forehead bumps into yours as he begins languid thrusts, feeling you loosen up little by little. You end up struggling to keep your eyes on him as you feel yourself relax under his devoted care. You let go of his cheek to wrap your arm around his neck instead, urging him to come closer to you as your thighs tighten around his hips.

As your digits toy with the strands of hair stuck to his nape, Aventurine's own hands shifts from your thighs, one settling on your waist and the other finding your free one. Your fingers intertwine, palms pressing firmly together. You can't quite grasp whether it's the relentless buck of his hips or the gentle press of his hand but the atmosphere is becoming overwhelming. The burning pleasure in your lower stomach expands suddenly and Aventurine's heated stare, paired with his whiny breaths, is doing nothing to help your state.

Aventurine must have sensed the sudden shift in your demeanour. He smirks, nipping his way down your neck licking and biting at your burning skin. Your grip tightens on his neck, a silent encouragement that Aventurine is quickly picks up. He lavishes your neck with feverish kisses, his airy moans of pleasure muffled as he quickens his pace into your heat. Your own cries fills up the room, your head falling back as the soft expanse of your throat exposes itself to Aventurine's greedy mouth. He wastes no time, crashing his lips down along your collarbones before making his way to the side of your neck, then up to your earlobe he teasingly bites.

"I'm not gonna last baby", you whisper as your fingers tighten into his. Aventurine inhales sharply at your words, shivers running down his spine as the hand on your waist slides back down to your thigh.

"I'm not far too," he chuckles breathlessly as he picks up the pace to fervently pounds into you. Encouraged by your high pitched moans, he raises your knee higher to allow himself to dive deeper. The slight change in position works wonderfully, Aventurine noticing the way your thighs tremble around his slim waist. "There you go," he coos down at you, admiring your face contorting in pleasure and your flushed neck covered in lovebites. He smiles at your needy gaze, glancing lower to where you're both connected. "Do you need something more ?" he purposely teases. Leaving your thighs, his hand lay flat down between your lower abdomen and your pubic bone, breath hitching at the thought of his lenght being buried down there. When he hears you pleading, he obliges and slowly lets his thumb travel down to find your sensitive nub. "May I bet that this is where you want me to touch ? Am I right, beautiful ?"

You nod, sitting on one forearm to look down at Aventurine's thumb gently circling your nub. "F-fuck..." you mumble against his neck as you cling to him, arm still around his neck. Your hips raise up against your will, filled to the brim by your lover as he toys with your clit in slow yet precise movements. "Baby–" you bring yourself even closer, forehead bucking against his as your orgasm start to build up dangerously.

"My beautiful girl," his tone is strained, that tightness of yours driving him crazy as he feels himself getting very close as well. He rubs your swollen clit purposely, wishing to hear more of your pleads and to have you cum on his lenght.

The compliment makes your heart skip a bit, gasping and leaning into Aventurine's touch. You desperately crash your lips against his, licking your way into his mouth as he moans softly into the kiss. Tongues battling and moans threathening to escape from your closed lips, you feel Aventurine twitching inside of you, a sign he is on the verge of cumming.

The thought of him finishing inside of you suddenly arises in your mind, bringing you closer to the edge since it takes a few more flicks of his thumb on your clit to have you see stars and clamping hard on him. Your orgasm is so intense you don't make a single sound, eyes rolling back, mouth slightly open in silent whimpers and barely hearing Aventurine's praises. Your body trembles against his, and you slowly come back from your high, tiny moans leaving your mouth as Aventurine continue to fuck you through the remaining of your climax. "Mh you did so well" he kisses your temple, as he helps you lay down back on the sheets, pampering your face with kisses. His member twitches inside of you, reminding you he didn't reach his orgasm. Though you wanted him to cum inside, you mentally grimace at the thought of how sensitive it would be to have him moving into you right back.

"Can I ?" you flush as you gesture toward his lenght still buried in your heat. He watches you with wide eyes as he nods, allowing you to slide his cock out of you. Your flush deepens as you notice he is glistening with your arousal. Carefully wrapping your hand around him, you cast him a questioning look, silently asking if you can keep going.

"Go on," he gives you one of his usual smirk but you can tell Aventurine is trying hard to keep his cool, as he is very very close. His brows furrowed and he sighs contently when you begin to pump his shaft up and down. His body still hovers yours as he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one forearm beside your face and taking your free hand in his. You stare up at his Avgin eyes and kisses the side of his mouth. "Keep your beautiful eyes on me", you murmur, licking his bottom lip. Your words brings a smile to his face through his lusty desire to cum right there and now. He knows you used those on purpose, as a reminder of his earlier request. However, it carries a deeper meaning, as the color of his eyes has always been a source of discomfort for some people. You, on the other hand, cherish his Avgin eyes more than anything, complimenting them every chance you get. So, as the words leave his pretty girl's lips, he makes sure to maintain eye contact as requested.

Kissing your way up to his cheek, your hand quickens the pace on his leaking lenght, thumb teasing the tip and smearing the precum down his shaft. Aventurine's breaths turn into high pitched moans as he feels his lower stomach contract. His eyes are still on you as he lets go with a loud moan, painting your hand and your tummy with his release. He bucks his hips into your hand until he collapses against your chest, nuzzling his face between your neck and shoulder. His heart is pounding fast in his chest, just like yours, as you glance down at him with a tender smile that he warmly returns.

You swipe his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, the pad of your clean fingers tracing gentle patterns on his face. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your comforting scent before kissing one of the marks he left earlier. You both stay in each others arms for what seems like hours, savoring the warmth of your bodies and whispering "I love you"s in between soft kisses.

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

[zae-heeyyy]

Piquancy- II

Summary: You wake up in Arthur's room. Pairing: Arthur Morgan X Female Reader Word Count: 1,486 Tags: High honor Arthur, developing relationship, alcohol and intoxication, fluff, before the Blackwater Massacre

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A/n: Well, I got carried away with the story, and now I don't know how many parts there'll be. I split some things to give you about 1,500 words instead of 5,000. I'm having a great time writing again, and I hope you enjoy!

piquancy: a sharp or stimulating quality that provokes a strong, often intriguing reaction.

For six seconds, waking up felt weightless. You'd forgotten where and who you were, your mind mercifully blank of heartache, running, and lawlessness. In that tenth of a minute, your lifestyle of living out of tents, squatting in abandoned houses, and sleeping under the stars felt far away, like some other poor girl's life and not yours. The logical, constantly worried part of your brain stayed asleep, and only half your senses stirred.

Despite the fireplace long gone cold, warmth enveloped you from all around. Sunlight beamed through the window, illuminating dancing dust particles and kissing your skin while plush blankets shielded you from the lingering morning chill. Most of the warmth, however, emanated from the colossus of a man beside you. Arthur's heavy arm anchored you close. You were spooned against him, his chest molded perfectly into your back, and his long legs loosely tangled in yours. And at seven seconds, you were fully conscious. Heaven's floodgates opened, and you were swept away in the deluge of your life.

Getting out of the bed was like breaking through the surface after being plunged deep into the ocean; you didn't even realize you were holding your breath until you surfaced and both feet landed on the dry land of floorboards. Standing now, you glanced back at Arthur, still sleepily adrift in the sea of blankets.

Cognizant of every creek and groan of the worn wooden planks beneath your feet, you walked nimbly across the room. The ark to save you from the flood, the door, was just within reach. Before boarding, you looked back at the sleeping man with a crinkle in his brow. Worry always seemed to plague him, even in his sleep. Part of you wondered what would happen if you stayed, how he'd react to waking with you in his arms, but you didn't even get to finish the thought.

Distracted by your own yearning, you got swept away in the debris of cowboy left by the previous night's tsunami of liquor. The heel of your boot caught on his gun belt, dragging the damn thing–– and everything attached to– it across the floor. 

The rouse was up then, the room filling with the racket of scrapping metal. Arthur's cattleman fell from its holster, striking the floor with a jarring clatter. The gunslinger jolted awake, and his hand instinctively shot to his side, searching for the very weapon that caused the racket in the first place.

His shoulders relaxed when it dawned on him that he wasn't in danger and was, in fact, looking at the one person who brought him a semblance of peace. He rubbed his face with both hands, wiping away the sleep and keeping out the morning sun. The room was silent now as the two of you marveled at each other.

"You stayed?" Disbelief and hangover thickened his already deep voice. 

"You asked me to," you answered quickly, "said you didn't want to do anything stupid."

Your words hung in the air, and you cursed yourself for acting so frantic. Arthur pretended not to notice, throwing the blankets off himself and walking around to your side of the bed. You didn't realize you were frozen all that time, an iceberg finally being thawed by the heat of him next to you. 

"Hope I didn't say anything more stupid than usual," he said, bending to retrieve his revolver. Seeing his belt still tangled around your feet, he offered a supporting hand while you fished yourself free.

"Youu get touchy and when you're drunk," you mused, feeling the awakeness dissipate with his hand in yours. "And sentimental." Upright again, you dangled the belt in front of him.

He chuckled nervously, buckled himself back in, and put the gun back in its holster, "Yeah, that sounds about right. M'sorry if I– "he scratched at his beard, frowning and internally fighting to find the right words.

"Whiskey does that to a man," You joked, trying to ease the new tension between you. Arthur nodded slowly, then shook his head and turned his back to you as the memories of last night came crashing back. 

"Ain't an excuse." Shame cast a dark veil over his handsome face. "Ain't an excuse for me to do what I did. Say what I said. I mean––talkin' like that, actin' like that—" he settled back down onto the bed, clasping his hands in front of him. His jaw was clenched like you'd seen after a job gone wrong or a disagreement with Dutch. "You're too good— too sweet for me to treat you like some —"

"Arthur..." you cut in on his self-deprecating monologue, sat beside him, and laid a hand on his knee. He seized that opportunity to lace his fingers in yours.

And his gorgeous blue eyes sucked you in. You were swimming again, more like floating away in them. His eyes were water, and his voice lulled you like waves.

"Want you to know I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or self-impose, I just—" Then he stopped himself and tore his ocean eyes away from yours again. "I just let the liquor get the best of me."

Your face fell despite you willing it not to, and you started to retreat into yourself, a lump swelling in your throat. Of course, everything had been taken out of context with the effects of the liquor. You should've known better, should've known that's just how he is. He'd have danced with anybody; would've said the same things to the next woman helping him up the stairs. He didn't mean it; he never did when he was drunk.

And then his grip tightened a desperate urgency to keep your hands in his. He shook his head as if reading your mind and dispelled everything you'd thought to yourself.

"Wasn' too far gone though. Not gone enough that I don'tremember what I said—what I meant—it wasn't just the whiskey talkin'." How his rugged man could soften himself so much and take your breath away would remain beyond you. His thumb stroked your knuckles tenderly, his eyes bore into you, and he swallowed.

"I know better. If I want a lady, I gotta court her right. I might've been raised rough, but I got enough sense to know that much."

Your four hands seemed to have minds of their own, twisting together as if trying to close the distance between you.

"Oh, Arthur," it was barely a whisper. You didn't know what to say, but you scooted in closer to him.

"Ain't good at this kind of talk," he confessed, "but whatever I said, I meant it."

There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading, like he couldn't bear the thought of holding it in anymore, couldn't bear you not knowing how he felt. You placed your hand soft on his cheek.

"You are stupid," you teased, pressing your forehead to his. He returned a chuckle and locked his fingers around your wrist, needing desperately to feel your skin under the tips of his fingers. He had to make sure this was real––that you were real— that this was happening, and he wasn't still trapped in some drunken hallucination from the night before. Blood rushed to his head, turning his ears a bright vermilion. With his other hand, he caressed your cheek despite the self-doubt pumping through him. 

And then you were submerged again, his lips an undertow, dragging you beneath the waves as they cut the air from your mouth. Drowning wasn't so bad as long as you were drowning in him. 

And the kiss lingered, both of your hearts pounding in your chest. You could've just about melted into him, but you pulled away as the town clock struck eight, its chimes slicing through the moment. Your hand dropped from his face heavily into your lap.

"Should get back," you sighed. "Got chores to do and all. Don't want Grimshaw to lose her head. She ain't exactly a fairy godmother."

Arthur's shoulders lifted with amusement, and he brushed a piece of your hair out of your face with a contained smile.

"I'm sure they're handling things just fine without you. Take yer time getting back; get a meal, have bath, wash the night away. I'm sure that weren't too pleasent––sleeping beside me and all."

It was all too pleasant, and you wanted to do it again soon. But you were on your way. Arthur put his boots back on and walked you down the stairs to the hitching post. You tried not to squeal as he gripped your hips tight and lifted you onto your house.

"Come back tonight," he said, stroking the animal's muzzle. An edge of nervousness scratched at his voice once more. "Spend the night with me, for real this time."

You departed, the lingering warmth of a kiss he'd left on your hand still tracing your skin. And, of course, you'd return.

next

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

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You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

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“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Prologue: Before It All —jjk.

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❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 + explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, mutual hate ❥word-count: 2.4k ❥Series Masterlist ❥ || Next Chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list

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Your final together was tomorrow, after a month of painfully hard work it would finally be over. Except you hadn’t heard from Jungkook  this week at all. From what you can tell he seemed to finish all of his portion of the work. You on the other hand, due to some finals, were a little behind but you had no doubts that you would be able to catch up. 

Not hearing from Jungkook did have you somewhat concerned. 

You both were normal last week but this week radio silence. You had texted him just keeping him updated on the progress of your work. You choked it up to him probably being swamped with his own work, and his own projects for other classes. So you tried not too worry. 

You sent one more text, anxiety rising with each passing minute.

:hey sorry to text you again. I’m just checking in! I should be able to finish in the next hour or two, so don’t worry.

:we are going to kill this presentation in the morning.

May have been a touch late to texting someone, it was 1:30 in the morning. You didn’t care though, he had texted you at like two in the morning before. So, you figured he’d forgive you.

But the second you sent the text.

The lights and your laptop had switched off. You sat in completely darkness. Suddenly the emergency lights shown by your door. You turned on your flashlight. Your laptop was old so your power being out means that you don’t have a laptop to work on. You made your way to the hall where some others had gathered. Asking what had happened.

Your RA eventually came up to your floor and told everyone not to worry, they were going to have the power on soon and to stay in our rooms for now. That we would get some text updates. You decided to not panic yet, soon after you did get a text saying that their was a an on campus outage and the problem would be resolved soon.

“Seriously?” you muttered, going back into your room. You texted Jungkook again.

:hey sorry I swear this is the last one, power in my dorm is out.

:and you know how my laptop is, so I have to wait until the power comes back.

:still going to kill it tomorrow!

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, the power finally returned. You rushed back to your laptop, praying everything was still there. But when you opened your document, it was blank. Completely empty.

“No,” you whispered, frantically searching for any backup.

Your entire month of work was gone. You tried finding a previous version, but there was nothing. Not on your hard drive, not in your email, not even a single backup copy. Every word, every citation, every carefully crafted paragraph—vanished. Except... Jungkook might have a copy.

You grabbed your phone and called him, your fingers trembling. Voicemail. You called again, and it rang once before going straight to voicemail again.

“Jungkook, pick up. Something happened. I need you to call me back.”

Panic set in as you scoured every corner of your computer. Desperate, you even checked old drafts and random notes on your phone, but there was nothing. Your heart sank. You called Jungkook two more times, but there was still no answer.

You were going to have to start over.

You knew the material—you’d been working on it every day for a month—but rewriting it from memory was going to be a nightmare. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and started typing. Every minute felt like an hour, but you pushed through. Tiredness clawed at you, and your eyes stung from the screen’s glare, but there was no other option.

Five hours later, you finally finished. The paper was nowhere near perfect, but it was something. A B, maybe a C at best, but it was better than nothing. Exhaustion overtook you the second you hit save, and you collapsed into bed.

It felt like only a second had passed when your eyes snapped open. You scrambled for your phone, the panic setting in again.

10:05 AM.

Ten missed texts and three missed calls from Jungkook.

“No!” You leapt out of bed, pulling on the first clothes you found, emailing the paper to yourself while sprinting out the door. You raced across campus, nearly tripping as you weaved through students, your breath burning in your lungs. By the time you reached the classroom, the hallway was filled with students leaving.

You pushed through the door, your hair a mess, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Shit, no, no, please.” You spotted your professor leaving and tried to push your way forward, only to be blocked by Jungkook.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he sneered as you stumbled in, breathless and disheveled.

“Jungkook--” you began, but he cut you off.

“Where the hell have you been? Why weren’t you here?” His voice was icy, and he took a menacing step toward you, making you step back.

“I—I fell asleep!” You stammered, tears welling up. Your exhaustion was really hitting you, and you couldn’t hold them in, “Did you see my texts? My calls? My voicemails?”

“Texts and calls don’t mean shit if you’re not here!” he snapped. “You’re acting like you care, but you clearly don’t. You’ve been flaky this entire time.”

“Jungkook, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he cut in, voice rising. “Maybe you did this on purpose! Maybe you’ve been plotting to screw me over!”

The accusation hit hard. “Are you seriously accusing me of sabotaging you? I’ve worked my ass off for this project!”

Jungkook’s eyes were cold. “And where were you when it mattered? You think your excuses are enough? Friends don’t disappear.”

The recent reconciliation between the both of you now dissolving on the ground between the both of you. You both had taken huge strides to become friends despite your resistance.

“Friends don’t accuse each other of being petty schemers!” you shot back, the anger surging. “I’ve been working all night to fix this, and you’re just throwing all my effort back in my face!”

“Maybe I’m tired of your games,” Jungkook retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. “Maybe David was right about you. Maybe he was right that this is something you do.”

David, your ex-boyfriend. Who had manipulated so many people into believing that you were crazy, when he had cheated on you multiple times. What hurt worse? Jungkook knew all of this, knew that David was an asshole. Knew that David was an awful person who lied every time he spoke.

Now he was throwing it in your face, what the hell was wrong with him?

The sting of his words was unbearable. “How dare you! I trusted you to be reasonable. You said you believed me when it came to what David said about me. How dare you throw that in my face! I came here ready to explain, ready to make things right. But you’re too busy being a jackass to listen.”

“I may be a jackass but at least I can be relied upon.” he said quietly, almost dismissively.

The words cut deeper than any knife. “You know what? I don’t need to defend myself to someone who’s already made up their mind. You’re not worth the effort, since you are so quick to blame others. You’re just like David after all.”

You turned away, feeling tears spill down your face. You walked away, not looking back. You had to save your grades, even if it meant cutting ties with Jungkook for good. Didn’t really matter, you two didn’t know each other that well anyways.

You found your professor, explained everything through your tears, and showed him the evidence. He listened, though his sympathy couldn’t override the rules. He allowed you to submit your rewritten paper but couldn’t let you do the presentation. He promised to grade fairly but couldn’t guarantee a good mark.

You received a D. It was lower than you hoped but enough to pass. Jungkook, however, failed, delaying his graduation.

You felt a grim satisfaction, but the bitterness lingered. The loss of the friendship gnawed at you, even if you hated him. You’d never see him again, and you were more than okay with that.

That was five years ago now.

The memory lingered as fresh and raw as ever. You had moved on, grown, and carved out a space where Jungkook’s existence didn’t matter. That was until you became friends with Melanie, who in every sense of the word was your best friend. Though, because fate is a funny thing, she fell in love with Namjoon. Namjoon’s closest friend was none other than Jungkook.

That relationship kept you and Jungkook in each other's lives for longer than either of you had cared for.

Forcing the two of you back into each other’s orbit. That also meant facing Jungkook repeatedly, each time resulting in fights so venomous you wondered how Melanie and Namjoon put up with it. So many clashes over so many years, so many attempts by mutual friends proved futile in bringing the both of you together. Eventually, everyone gave up and just made sure to never have the two of you in a room together.

Now with Namjoon and Melanie’s engagement, a wedding loomed around the corner.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, mind still reeling from the past. The fallout from that final class had changed everything. Every time you saw Jungkook since then, it was an instant—words turned to daggers, and every conversation became a battlefield. Neither of you ever backed down; pride kept you both locked in a bitter stalemate.

“Just a heads-up,” Melanie said, breaking you out of your thoughts. She hesitated, eyes flicking away as if bracing for impact. “I know how you two feel about each other, but he’s Namjoon’s best friend.”

You knew what was coming, but you still grimaced. “Don’t tell me.”

Melanie sighed. “Jungkook is his best man.”

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up instantly. You had known this was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Of course, he is.”

Melanie’s living room felt unusually tense, the soft glow of the evening sun doing little to warm the atmosphere. Melanie had always been the bridge between you and Jungkook—constantly trying to keep the peace, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this time was different. You couldn’t just show up, exchange a few biting remarks with Jungkook, and call it a day. This was her wedding. This was the culmination of everything she’d dreamed of, and she deserved your best effort.

Melanie took a deep breath, her stern expression softening just slightly. “I know it’s a big ask, and I wouldn’t push it if I didn’t have to. But Namjoon and Jungkook—they’ve been through so much together. He’s not just a friend to Namjoon; he’s like a brother. And I need you both to make this work.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Melanie was trying to keep the peace, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had seen you and Jungkook tear each other down time and again. Seeing the tears you shed over the times he would hit the nail on the head, and say something that went too far. Held you back from starting a physical altercation with him.

Each encounter was more bitter than the last, and every argument chipped away at the thin veneer of civility you both clung to.

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady despite the resentment simmering underneath. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Melanie’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her eyes remained cautious. “Thank you. And I mean it, no half-hearted attempts. I need rainbows and kindness coming out of both of your asses.”

You laughed despite yourself, appreciating the way Melanie could still inject humor into even the most awkward of situations. “Got it. Rainbows and kindness. I’ll bring a whole damn unicorn if that’s what it takes.”

“Good, I don’t know what I would do if we had another new years situation.” Although it was years ago, that was probably the worst fight you and Jungkook had. The things that were said and the drink you dumped on him are very present in your mind. Made you laugh to yourself even but it definitely caused a bot of an issues in your group.

You shook your head, feeling a familiar pang of bitterness. “Yeah that was a really low moment for me. I think because of that things between us will never change. He’s still that same arrogant jerk who can’t own up to his mistakes. And I’m done pretending I care enough to fix anything.”

“People change,” she said softly, it was something she tried to convince you of many times. “But I get it. You don’t have to be friends—you just have to coexist.”

“That, I can do,” you said firmly. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for you.”

“Thank you,” Melanie said, squeezing your hand. “I’m so happy you accepted the role. I couldn’t imagine my wedding without you there.”

“For you? Anything,” you replied, your resolve hardening. You would hold onto your promise to Melanie, no matter how much Jungkook got under your skin. This wedding was about Namjoon and Melanie, not you and whatever animosity you harbored toward Jungkook.

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, but your mind was racing, already plotting ways to avoid Jungkook’s inevitable provocations. You pictured the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the reception—any scenario where the two of you would be forced to interact. You would keep your distance, smile politely, and not engage. If Jungkook’s presence was like a storm cloud threatening to ruin the day, you would be calm. You owed Melanie that much.

“When the wedding rolls around, I’ll keep up appearances and be civil and kind,” you said, trying to reassure not just Melanie, but yourself. “Jungkook might be the spawn of Satan, but as long as I don’t speak to him directly, everything will go perfectly.”

No amount of promises could erase the deep-seated anger you felt every time you saw his face. This time, though, you would have to bury it, if only for a weekend. You would smile through gritted teeth, hold your tongue when he inevitably said something infuriating, and pretend you were above it all.

You had months to prep yourself though. Plenty of time to make sure that nothing Jungkook could do could piss you off.

Nothing that weekend will surprise you.

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❥ || Next Chapter

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[fillinforlater]

The Pull

Randoms x Ning Yizhou (NingNing) & Kang Hyewon

Length: 1165 words

Tags: gangbang, hair pulling kink, rough, a lot of positions, sex, being a willing toy for men and women

TW: gangbang, the hair pulling is kinda rough, QUICKIE

Inspiration: the two pictures below

(A/N: just a short quickie I had in mind for forever now. Sorry if it's just bullshit, but I hope y'all enjoy it lol)

"Okay, what is this?"

Ningning is perplexed. She let her imagination run wild when Hyewon invited her over weeks ago, the premise: fun with multiple people. Now, multiple can mean a lot, like sharing a couple, something Ningning is already familiar with or maybe two guys for each of them. That's about as many as she can handle simultaneously. Come to think of it, Ningning remembers Hyewon telling her about having three guys and two girls on her at the same time, though—

"Don't tell me you expected more?" Hyewon laughs as she pushes herself through the tall and small and buff and slender frames of horny people around her towards her Chinese friend.

"Less," Ningning quietly hisses when she sees the twinkle in Hyewon's starry eyes. This woman is truly like the night sky: thrilling, even if you can't see it, drop dead gorgeous when uncovered and always happy to surprise her with a shooting star—or in this case, almost twenty willing people. 

"Oh, can my small Ning-ning-ie not handle a dozen men and half a dozen women?" Hyewon's laugh is loud and echoes amongst the crowd whose eyes are all focused on the two. Ningning can feel herself getting undressed, hell, she might as well be bare in their eyes, clothes already on the floor and Hyewon is the same. 

"You're crazy." She puts her arms on Hyewon's shoulders and looks past her. A wave of blankness washes over her head. Now she is the one undressing all those strangers before her, the men whipping out their hard cocks, small, large, thick; the girls with their hairy or shaved pussies, tiny tits or gigantic melons—she is equally scared and excited, so she needs this final push to get her into it.

"And you are crazy hot, Ning-ning-ie~ and your hair…"

Unwillingly, Ningning throws her head back in a guttural, deep moan that has the entire room in goosebumps of thrill and blind lust. Hyewon has both hands in Ningning's endlessly long hair, the blonde fittingly forming tails to tug. There are a million reasons Ningning loves Hyewon, but it's the way she pulls her hair that made her addicted to the older girl.

"Don't keep them waiting any longer, Ningningie~ they can and will pull it and fuck you good.

"Trust me."

The two women are swarmed, torn from each other's grasp and covered in hands. A palm on her back, barely worth the mention, another on her chest, too bad that there's fabric in the way, a long, manicured pointer on her thighs, Ningning holds her breath—she shrieks when someone combs her hair and tugs at whatever they can grab. The doubts and fears she had about this are all gone when more and more people try to get a stronger reaction out of her and pull at her hair.

"Those tails—fuck—were a great idea," Hyewon half moans, half laughs from the other side of the crowded room, amidst a crowd, her frame the toy of the crowd. Her dress is easily removed, unsurprisingly, she likes easy access. Ningning then sees her friend drop to her knees, mouth on a cock, fingers on other shafts and pussies, while a large, burly man roughly pulls her hair back.

"Do the same to me," Ningning begs to the first person she can see, a bald guy, twice her age easily. He nods and pushes her to the ground while the pointy, manicured nails from before are shredding themselves through her top. "My hair, oh God, fuck, yes!"

Though unable to see it—a girl has buried the Chinese woman's face in her hairy cunt—Ningning can feel strong pulling from all sides, relentless, reckless how some are rubbing their cocks on it as well. She searches for the hard clit, her tongue twirling it, like Hyewon has teached her in a private session, way before gangbangs even came into the picture. Some greasy guy forces her to stroke his tiny cock, she can feel him cumming, hear him groaning, imagine the pearly white all over her arm. Not a good spot to finish. 

"In my mouth, ahh." Ningning opens wide and the guy finishes on her lips until two other men decide to suddenly pick her up. The rest of his load lands on her tits, but Ningning has already forgotten about it, too big is the thrill of a stranger uncovering her ass and showing it off to everyone. 

"Fuck me standing," she screams in euphoria. "As long as you pull my fucking hair, I don't care!"

Today is Christmas for Ningning, because as the guy carrying her aligns his cock with her soaking pussy, another woman has her ponytail in hand and starts to play tug of war against herself. In Ningning's brain, the pleasure and pain clash shortly, but soon find a rhythm—the same rhythm in which her pussy is getting pounded. Each thrust rocks her world and now the tug can send her into bliss.

"Oh my God, I'm cumming, don't stop!"

Hyewon meanwhile gets spitroasted in a quite unusual way: two men try to get their semi-hard cocks into her mouth while a young lady shoves a large strap-on in her ass over and over again—she literally pushes it all the way in, just to pull it back out again. The sight of Hyewon's gaping asshole has a guy close. He jerks himself to completion and his spunk lands in Hyewon’s messed up and torn locks.

"I want to cum again, please!"

Ningning gets dropped, but this is nowhere near the end of her wish fulfillment. There is always someone else to fondle her assets, be it tits or ass, and of course, her golden strands. In another team effort, her ass cheeks get spread wide to reveal a twitching hole, always clean, relaxed and ready, especially after the height of an all time orgasm. A cockhead eases itself inside her. 

"Oh fuck!"

"Get her hair!" a strong willed woman shouts at two men who were somewhat awkwardly jerking themselves off at the ever switching sight. "You pull here, you pull over here, on the other side.  Fuck her hair for all I care, ruin her somehow."

The same woman is not only successful with her instructions, she also puts her foot on Ningning's cheek and has her head trapped on the floor, unable to escape the cock that is destroying her ass faster and faster. Ningning can feel her knees give up slowly, they tremble with the force of an earthquake followed by a volcanic eruption, because a final tug puts her over the edge again. This time her orgasm is messy, clear squirt lunges out of her cunt while incoherent profanities leave her mouth.

"Fucking, th-thank you, shit, oh Hyewon, ahhh, fill my dumb ass, c-c-cum in my hair, ahh!"

"You're welcome," Hyewon moans back, small body upright, a cock in her pussy, hickeys on her collarbone, a tongue in her ass, her hair pulled.

Of course it's pulled.

[rottiens]

I need to hear more about your detective sukuna thoughts pls

✮ cw. 18+, implicit violence and sensitive topics, it is implied that the reader is a foreigner, detective au. fun fact; toji is sukuna's boss in this au just because I want him to :3 | divider creds: cafekitsune.

Sukuna has a reputation for corruption, always finding excuses to shoot, harm witnesses and, of course, use handcuffs. His methods are not always orthodox, but they always pay off. That's why his boss usually turns a blind eye when Sukuna is in charge of a case, giving him the necessary immunity and resources he requests.

Murders, robberies, arms trafficking: these are just some of the cases the great Sukuna has worked on, finding solutions over a ten-year career, with all of those cases now closed… except one.

The surprise death of the president of one of Tokyo's most important companies shocked the country, filling the newspapers and front pages for months. The case was closed as a suicide, but Sukuna knew there was more to it, especially when his superiors insisted that there was nothing more to investigate and that he should no longer stick his nose where it was not called. That only made him, of course, more determined to probe where he was not called.

He has been working "undercover" for the past few weeks, though not under orders from his superiors, but under his own rules. Investigating witnesses, collecting documents, sniffing out clues like a bloodhound, and among all those things, there's always one thing in common: you.

He has been watching you. You charge and pass each object through the scanner with a neutral face and steady hands. You look like an expert in the field. The tag on your uniform says "Aiko," clearly a fake name. Sukuna had seen your name on the report now lying under his mattress. He knows your real name, age, hometown but that's all he could collect, no college record, a family to pursue, an ex-partner or any other previous job. The president's personal assistant with a blank background, living in one of the most humble areas of the city, far from magazines, newspapers, camera lenses….

Sukuna places the pack of cigarettes on the counter with more force than necessary just as the store bell chimes. It's just the two of you now.

"Just that?" you ask without looking at him. Sukuna searches your eyes silently until you hold his gaze. Exhausted eyes, painted the black of your dark circles under your eyes.

How long have you not slept? What is keeping you awake? The questions make him bite his lip, restraining himself from pulling out his notebook and starting the interrogation right there, curiosity eating him alive from the inside but he knows you still need one more push to go down. He finally gives in, shakes his head in affirmation and you tell him the price, the same one you've given him for the past few weeks with the same lifeless countenance as always.

Sukuna pulls his wallet out of his leather jacket, showing you a flash of his badge glowing in the darkness of his clothes. Sukuna sees you tense up behind the counter. You pick up your hands and hide them where he can't see them. He slides a wad of bills onto the wood along with a white card with his phone number and name in plain black letters.

You shake your head before he has a chance to say anything.

"I just want to talk," he says, still, his voice a little hoarse.

"I don't have anything to talk to you about." Your accent is good, but he can easily tell you're not from here.

"I just want to buy you a coffee."

Sukuna leans back on the counter, holding his jaw with his open hand as he examines you up and down. You lean back in the chair, almost as if you think he's going to grab you and force you to stay still. You are visibly trembling, and it all makes his adrenaline rush through his veins, he is drooling, his eyes slightly wide at the prey in front of him. What are you hiding, what do you know?

"Can you leave now?"

Sukuna realizes how easy it would be to handcuff you at this point. With a little effort, he'd leap over the counter, mount you on his broad shoulders, and haul you out the door to throw you in his truck. However, remember that it's Monday, the flow of people is higher at the beginning of the week, and it would be a hassle to have to shoot another civilian.

Sukuna stretches as he groans; all the imagination of the scene has exhausted him. So he runs a hand through his hair and shoves the cigarette box into his back pockets.

"Call me if you're bored. I promise it will be worth it," he comments with a smile that makes you visibly uncomfortable.

Then he walks towards the exit and, with a creak of the bell, the cold snowflakes that his stale presence brought to the place begin to fall on your head and arms, covered by the thin uniform shirt, making you shiver even more, causing your fingers and lips to become like ice cubes with the winter that the infamous detective leaves behind.

[mellowmusings]

coffee for your head | part 3

part 2

Azriel x reader A/N- highkey dead rn, wanna kms :) let me know if you wanna be tagged. my dumbass confused it with blessed mistakes first lmao Summary-After loosing his mate Azriel falls into severe depression barely living and eating at all, his entire life had fallen apart and even after a century of grieving he still couldn't pull himself up to the surface, but in his hole of self pity a ladder reaches down to him.

part 3- The healing The nights were still hard. Shadows curled restlessly around Azriel, whispering fragments of his past and pulling him toward the memories he couldn’t escape. He didn’t sleep much, haunted by dreams that left him cold and aching. But lately, there was something—someone—that offered a reprieve from the endless cycle of guilt and grief.

You.

It wasn’t as though you had come into his life and magically made everything better. The ache of losing his mate didn’t vanish overnight, nor did the guilt of allowing himself to feel something new. But your presence was steady, warm, and—most importantly—patient.

That patience was what terrified him the most.

Azriel noticed the little things first. The way you brewed his tea just how he liked it, even though he’d never told you. The way you left space for him at the dinner table but didn’t press when he chose to sit alone. The way you laughed—soft and sincere, as if the world hadn’t left its scars on you the way it had on him.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

The first time you sat beside him in the garden, saying nothing but letting your presence fill the silence, he found himself gripping his hands tightly in his lap. The urge to speak warred with the urge to push you away, to tell you that you deserved someone less broken.

But you didn’t ask him to speak. You just stayed. And something inside him cracked.

The journey wasn’t smooth. Healing rarely was.

There were moments when Azriel felt like he was suffocating, the weight of the past pressing down on his chest. He’d wake in a cold sweat, his shadows coiled tightly around him, and he’d remember her—his mate. Her laughter, her voice, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then he’d think of you. The way you smiled at him, the way your eyes softened when you looked his way. It was different, softer.

It wasn’t wrong, was it? To find comfort in someone else?

But comfort didn’t always come easily.

One evening, you had invited him to join you for a walk along the Sidra. It wasn’t unusual—walking had become one of the few ways Azriel could clear his mind. But that day, he was restless, his shadows unusually loud, their whispers biting at the edges of his thoughts.

“Come with me,” you said, your tone light, though he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, his voice sharper than he intended.

You blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t back down. “Azriel, you’ve been sitting in this room all day. A walk might help—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, the words cold and biting.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You stood there, your expression carefully blank, though he could see the hurt flicker across your features before you masked it.

“Alright,” you said quietly, turning to leave.

The door closed softly behind you, and Azriel sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The guilt was immediate, suffocating. He hadn’t meant to lash out, hadn’t meant to hurt you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know how to let someone in without fear of losing them.

He found you later that night, sitting by the fire in the House of Wind. You didn’t look up when he approached, your focus on the flames, but you didn’t tell him to leave, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.

You turned to him then, your eyes searching his face. “I’m not upset because you snapped at me, Azriel. I’m upset because you keep shutting me out.”

“I don’t mean to,” he admitted, his shadows curling around his shoulders like a shield. “I just—this isn’t easy for me. Letting someone in. Letting myself feel…” He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

You softened, your gaze steady. “I know it’s not easy. But I’m not asking you to do this alone. I’m here, Azriel. For as long as you’ll let me be.”

Something about the way you said it, so quietly but with such conviction, unraveled him. He sat beside you, his shoulders brushing yours, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself lean into someone else’s strength.

The fights were never explosive, but they were frequent enough to be a reminder of how much he still had to learn.

There was the time he forgot to meet you for lunch, lost in his own thoughts, and you had spent the afternoon pacing in worry.

“I thought something had happened to you,” you’d said when he finally returned, your voice tight with frustration.

“I didn’t ask you to worry,” he’d replied, defensive.

“No, you didn’t,” you said, your tone sharp. “But I do. Because I care about you, Azriel. And if that’s going to be a problem, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t say that.”

The tension hung between you like a fragile thread, but eventually, you both stepped back, your anger cooling. He apologized, and so did you, and the rift between you mended just a little.

There were also moments of quiet understanding, of small victories that felt monumental.

The first time he reached for your hand without overthinking it, you’d smiled so brightly he felt like the sun had come out just for him.

The first time he let you into his room, the space he had once considered sacred and untouchable, you had treated it with the reverence it deserved.

The first time he laughed—truly laughed—at something you said, the sound was so foreign to him that it startled both of you.

And through it all, you stayed.

It wasn’t until months later, as you sat together in the same garden where this journey had begun, that Azriel truly let himself acknowledge what he felt for you.

You were reading, your legs tucked beneath you, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow across your face. His shadows were unusually quiet, as if even they recognized the peace of the moment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you looked up, your lips quirking in a soft smile. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his voice betrayed him.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “You don’t have to say it, Azriel. Not until you’re ready.”

But he was ready.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face before it softened into something warm and radiant. “I love you, too.”

And for the first time in over a century, Azriel felt something he hadn’t thought possible.

Hope. Beautiful radiant hope.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3 @inkedinshadows @thesunloveschips

[pretzel-box]

Characters: Painter & Reader | ROUTE B is Painter's route!

Tags: Fluff, Heart to Heart, Romance, Confession

Words: 3,2k

Authors Note: I got impatient. But after this, updates will be strictly on thursday for both routes. Take this as a little preview for Painters Route.

Painter’s lips pressed against yours, warm and surprisingly soft. It was unexpected, sudden, and for a split second, your mind went blank. Time slowed, the sound of the rain outside the shop fading into nothing as his kiss lingered. You could still smell the faint trace of alcohol on him, mixing with his expensive cologne.

Your breath hitched as your hands instinctively gripped the edge of the counter, grounding yourself. The world felt off-kilter, spinning in a strange haze of emotions, confusion, and something else you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

He pulled back slowly, eyes half-lidded, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I—" He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His usual calm and nerdy demeanor was gone, replaced with a vulnerable uncertainty that you hadn’t seen in him before. His gaze flickered between your eyes, searching for a reaction, something to tell him whether he had just made a mistake.

You blinked, your heart still racing from the shock of it all. What had just happened? You’d come here for answers, not this. And yet, here he was, standing before you, looking both terrified and hopeful, his lips slightly parted as if waiting for a response.

But you didn’t have one. Not yet.

Your mind was still spinning from everything—Sebastian, Allison, the stream, and now this. Your emotions were a jumbled mess, and you weren’t sure which way was up anymore. Painter had been there for you, helping in ways you hadn’t expected, but this? This felt like it had changed everything in an instant.

"Painter…" you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. His eyes flickered with something—fear, perhaps, or regret. He shifted nervously, his fingers still brushing the counter beside you, unsure of what to do next.

"I’m sorry." he said softly, his voice shaking. "I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking. I just… you looked so lost, and I—" He ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink, or maybe I’m just tired of watching from the sidelines, but… I couldn’t stop myself." He had always been at the edge of the events, seeing you around but never managed to talk to you. He knows so much about you thanks to Sebastian and here you were, barely knowing him in return.

He looked down, guilt washing over his features as he continued, "You deserve better than this. You deserve better than some guy who can’t keep his feelings straight. I’m sorry."

You swallowed, trying to process his words, his apology, and the kiss that still tingled on your lips. It was too much, all at once.

"Why now?" you asked, your voice a little stronger this time. "Why say this now, after everything?"

Painter bit his lip, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again, filled with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Because…" He hesitated, the words hanging in the air between you like a fragile thread. "Because I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt anymore. Seeing Sebastian hurt you… it drove me crazy. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way, I know he’s my friend, but I care about you more than I realized. And I guess… I thought maybe, just maybe…"

He trailed off, unsure how to finish. The shop felt too small, too quiet, the only sound now the soft patter of rain against the window.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the pain in his eyes, the struggle. This wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment thing. He had been holding this in for longer than either of you probably realized.

And yet, you couldn’t help but think of Sebastian. His apology, his confession, the way he had broken down in front of you. The emotions you’d felt then were still tangled up inside, unresolved, confusing. And now here was Painter, adding another layer to the mess.

"Painter." you whispered, unsure of what else to say. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like a weight you couldn’t lift.

"I know." he murmured, stepping back slightly, giving you some space. "I know this is too much, and I shouldn’t have put you in this position. I just… I needed you to know how I felt. Even if it was the wrong time."

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed now. "I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted to be honest. You’ve been through enough, and I didn’t want to add to it. But here I am, making everything worse."

You shook your head, taking a deep breath as you tried to find your own footing in this whirlwind of emotions. "You’re not making things worse, Painter." you said softly. "I’m just… I’m confused. About everything. About Sebastian, about you, about what happened today."

He nodded slowly, his expression softening a little. "I get that. I do. And I don’t want to pressure you. I just…" His voice trailed off again, as if he didn’t know how to finish that thought.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. You weren't sure where things would go from here, but you knew one thing—that kiss had started something inside you, something you couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was a crush, or maybe it was something deeper. Painter looked almost divine in his suit, his messy silver hair catching the soft light, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

The way he looked at you, like you were his last lifeline, tugged at something deep within. There was no mistaking the tenderness in his gaze, and that alone made your chest tighten.

Maybe it was a stupid decision. Maybe it wasn’t. But before you could overthink it, you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It was softer this time, slower—an attempt to understand what you were feeling. His breath hitched against your lips, and then you felt him respond, melting into you like he had been waiting for this, for you, for so long.

His arms wrapped around you now, pulling you closer, but not with urgency—with care, as if he was afraid that you might slip away at any moment, like you were some fragile dream he wasn’t ready to wake up from. You could feel his grip tighten slightly, his hands shaking just a bit, and you realized that he was scared. Scared that this was too good to be true. That maybe you’d come to your senses and push him away.

But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into the warmth of him, letting your hands rest gently on his chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breath. For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of you in that quiet shop. The rain outside, the mess of everything else—it all faded away.

When you finally pulled back, your lips barely inches from his, you saw the way his eyes had softened, glowing with something more than just affection—hope. His breath was ragged, his cheeks flushed, and there was a flicker of disbelief in his expression as if he couldn’t quite grasp that you had kissed him again.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with hesitation but also a quiet plea. He needed to know if this was real, if you felt what he did.

You nodded, your fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his suit jacket. "Yeah." you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "I’m sure."

A relieved smile broke across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle just a little at the edges. He let out a breath he had been holding, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders ease as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"You don’t know how much this means to me." he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. His fingers brushed the back of your neck gently, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve wanted to tell you for so long… I just never thought you’d feel the same."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "I didn’t know either, honestly," you admitted, your fingers trailing up to play with the lapel of his jacket. "But now… I think I might."

His breath hitched again, but this time it was with a quiet joy, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you back into another kiss, deeper and more assured. It wasn’t rushed, but it held a kind of promise, a new beginning.

The kiss lingered, slow and warm, filled with the sweetness of a love that had been quietly blooming between the two of you. When you finally parted, he stayed close, his nose brushing yours, his lips curled into a soft smile.

“We should leave.” Painter whispered softly against your lips, and only then did you realize how late it had become. The quiet night outside seemed heavier now, and you suddenly wondered if Painter was even able to get home safely in his current state. He wasn’t completely out of it, but there was a fog in his eyes, and you could tell he wasn’t in any condition to drive.

“I’ll take you home.” you offered, gently placing a hand on his arm. He blinked at you, a small, relieved smile spreading across his face as he nodded.

"Yeah, I’d like that." he murmured.

The two of you left the shop, stepping into the night’s drizzle. The rain had slowed to a soft patter, and the city lights shimmered on the wet pavement like scattered stars. Painter stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours as you both made your way to the subway station.

Once you were inside the quiet station, the hum of the city felt distant. It was late, and not many people were around. Painter stood close, his silver hair a little damp from the rain, his suit still pristine but slightly crumpled from your earlier closeness. He leaned against the railing, waiting for the train, his gaze never straying far from you.

When the train finally arrived, the two of you slipped inside, finding a seat toward the back. The subway car was almost empty, the soft hum of the train and the occasional rattling the only sounds accompanying the quiet night. You both sat down, the dim light flickering overhead as the train began to move.

Painter leaned against you almost immediately, his head gently resting on your shoulder, as if he had been waiting for this closeness all night. You smiled softly to yourself, feeling the warmth of him as the train rocked beneath you. His breathing was steady but slow, a sign of the exhaustion weighing on him. You shifted slightly, letting him rest more comfortably, and he instinctively draped an arm over your waist, pulling you closer.

“Thank you…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here. For… everything.” he replied, his fingers tracing light patterns against your side, as if grounding himself in your presence. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth blooming in your chest at his words. “You’d figure something out. But… I’m glad I can be here for you.” you said quietly, resting your cheek against the top of his head. The train continued to glide through the tunnels, and you found yourself watching the blurred lights pass by outside, the world slipping away in the background as you focused on the soft rise and fall of Painter’s breath against you.

The city outside seemed like a distant memory, forgotten in the quiet bubble of the subway. There was something intimate in the way Painter clung to you, as if he trusted you completely in that moment. The barriers between you had been lifted, and all that was left was a simple, honest closeness that neither of you wanted to break.

After a while, you felt Painter shift slightly, his face turning so that his lips brushed the side of your neck. The touch was soft, hesitant, but it sent a shiver through you, and you glanced down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, his expression gentle but still a little hazy.

“I think I’m falling for you…” he whispered, the words barely audible over the hum of the train. His hand tightened around your waist, holding you just a little closer.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. But the feeling that had been growing inside you all night, the quiet, gentle affection, was too strong to ignore.

“I think… I’m falling for you too.” you whispered back, your fingers brushing through his silver hair as you held him close. It didn't mattered from where the feelings came from or if they were only temporary, Painter made you happy at the moment.

Painter’s grip on you tightened, his head nuzzling against your shoulder as if he needed to hear those words again. And for the rest of the ride, neither of you said anything more. There was no need. The quiet, shared understanding was enough, as you sat together, letting the city pass by outside.

When the train finally reached your stop, Painter reluctantly pulled away, blinking groggily as he sat up. You helped him to his feet, your hands lingering on his arm as the two of you made your way out of the subway station, the night air cool against your skin. He leaned on you slightly, still tired but smiling softly as you guided him home.

As you walked through the empty streets, your steps echoing in the stillness, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between you. Something real, something undeniable.

When you arrived at Painter’s apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback. The place was big—far bigger than you imagined. The minimalistic design contrasted sharply with the luxury of it all. The open space, high ceilings, and large windows that overlooked the city gave it an almost ethereal feeling, like you’d stepped into some kind of modern sanctuary.

But despite its elegance, it was Painter who remained the center of your attention. He still leaned on you, his exhaustion clear as you guided him inside.

Once the door clicked shut, Painter turned to you with a lazy grin. Without warning, he pulled you toward the bedroom, his arm slipping around your waist with an ease that made your heart race.

"Come on… just… let’s rest." he murmured, his voice low and slurred with exhaustion.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the sudden closeness, but you managed to keep your composure, pulling back slightly. “Wait. You’re soaked.” you said, glancing at his damp suit. “You need to dry off first.”

He blinked, as if realizing it for the first time. “Ah… yeah, guess I’m a mess.” he chuckled softly, swaying slightly as he stood there.

“I’ll help.” you said quickly, heading to the bathroom, after searching for it quickly, to grab a towel. When you returned, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his hands, watching you with those tired but adoring eyes.

You knelt down beside him, gently dabbing the towel against his damp hair, careful not to mess up the silver strands too much. He closed his eyes, letting you work in silence, his breathing slow and steady now. There was something intimate in the act of caring for him like this, something that made your heart beat just a little faster.

As you moved the towel down to his neck, your eyes landed on the open collar of his shirt. His chest was exposed, skin smooth and still slightly damp from the rain. You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard, but Painter didn’t seem to notice your nervousness.

"You’ll catch a cold if you stay like this." you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

With trembling hands, you undid the rest of his buttons, carefully peeling the wet fabric away from his chest. Your breath hitched slightly as you took in the sight of him—lean, toned, and so effortlessly handsome. His skin felt warm under your fingertips, and you could feel the heat rising to your face the longer you looked.

Painter watched you through half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice soft but still carrying that playful edge.

You quickly looked away, your face burning. “I’m just trying to help.” you mumbled, focusing on drying him off as best you could.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a shiver down your spine. “I know.” he whispered, his voice suddenly serious again. “I appreciate it.”

Once you had finished drying his chest and arms, you hesitated again, unsure of how to proceed. His pants were still wet, but you weren’t exactly sure how to… help with that.

“I… uh… I think you can handle the rest.” you stammered, your eyes darting away from his bare chest, still feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips.

Painter smirked, clearly amused by your flustered state. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it from here.” he said softly, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment before he stood up, wobbling slightly but managing to keep his balance.

You busied yourself with straightening out the towels and giving him some space, but every now and then, you caught glimpses of him from the corner of your eye. Even in his tired, slightly tipsy state, there was something about the way he carried himself that drew you in—something magnetic. It was impossible to ignore.

„You should dry off as well.“ He called out. „Feel free to take something from my clothes.“

When he returned, he had slipped into dry clothes, he wore a shirt but it was unbuttoned and left an excellent view on his chest and the lower parts of his abdomen right above his v-line, and his hair still slightly damp but looking more refreshed. He smiled softly at you, who also managed to change in the meantime, his expression warm and filled with something that made your heart flutter.

"And thanks for taking care of me." he said quietly, stepping closer until he was just in front of you. He didn’t touch you this time, but the closeness was enough to make your pulse quicken. "You didn’t have to… but you did."

"Of course." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m always here for you."

Painter’s smile widened, and before you knew it, his hand was on your cheek, gently caressing the side of your face. His touch was tender, comforting, and in that moment, everything else seemed to melt away—the rain, the exhaustion, the world outside.

He pulled you again, gently and with care till you landed on top of him on the bed. Your body was pressed against his as his hand stroked your back affectionatly, he was beyond touch starved.

„Maybe I should tell you something.“ His voice hums, inviting you to relax.

[vacayisland]

@!; I love you. Floyd / Reader

"Summary"! "I love you" I always had and I always do. "Tags"! Floyd's POV. angst/hurt. This was more experimental in my writing so please enjoy and I accept any feedback you might have <3

@storydays @chamille-trash @valvalentine69

Floyd stood in the crowd, surrounded by a hundred faces that he did not know. He stood under the starlight sky, silent and deserted as others' cheers flooded his ears and made him deaf. The lights from the stars, which could not shine as brightly as you, drowned his vision and made him blind. His voice was all but silent. His spirit all but drained as he stood there, not one with a crowd yet a husk in a body that he no longer knew was his. With a mind that tried to barricade the disappearance that tried to flood out in a crowd of faces he did not know. Floyd stood upon the crowd of faces that blurred, his eyes fixated not on them nor on you; For you shined too brightly for him to bear, too brightly for him to hold, too brightly for him to keep. Floyd stood upon the crowd of faces that didn’t care as the stars smiled down upon him with a taunting grin, a sickening grin that made his stomach heave and quelch. Floyd stood upon the crowd of blank faces, all screaming and shouting the name of a lover that couldn’t be, trying to remember how he ended up in this crowd. In this place, in this time, in this situation. His brain tried to search for an answer, any sort of sign from the sinister stars that did not help yet laughed upon his misfortune why? Why! He wanted to scream and cry out, shout until he could no longer do so, until he was hoarse and dead. Why did it have to be you, the one who was born with the kiss of the sun, who would rival the stars above you and make them envious, who could be everything and nothing at once. Who was he compared to you?

“Floyd this is madness!” Branch had cried to him once as he followed him, trying to convince him to change his mind, go back on the words he had just spoken, anything other than this. Other than this cruel fate. This cruel, cruel fate that someone should not bare let alone Floyd who has done so much for you! Yet Floyd would not listen, his heart set on the path he had chosen knowing it was the best for you; The best for a star that should not follow another that did not burn as brightly as you, who’s light had been dimmed far beyond repair. You deserved to dance with those who were like you, who burned as bright as you and who could dance alongside you without this gut stabbing remorse for even being near. No, no…. You shouldn’t be stuck with someone who is so burnt out that they will weigh you down, drown you until you're extinguished like a light that had never shone in the first place when you were the brightest of all. No, no… Floyd could possibly not do that to you. Never to you. For you were the light that lit his flame, burned his heart, and awakened his days. For you were the one dancing around his head, countlessly, as you sang songs above a love that Floyd desired for you and only you. A love he could not push you through. A love he could not burden you with, so what else could he have done other than to say… goodbye? “I wish we were to other people,” You used to dreamily say to Floyd upon summer nights, out on the cold green grass as fireflies danced around your heads like stars who had descended to grace you and only you. Never him, he didn’t deserve such beauty. “I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye, I wished I could stay by your side.” You had told Floyd with the dreamist of sighs, a smile upon your face that made him forget about the dancing stars and the moonlight sky. God you looked so beautiful tonight that it hurt Floyd, it hurt him so much. Countless men tried chasing you down, tried asking for your hand, tried to be yours and yet Floyd had always taken your attention.

Selfish; Is what chastised him in his mind as he watched your love-struck eyes mingle with his that did not deserve to gaze upon your beauty. Beauty that Floyd could not describe; could not justify into words as it left his mouth dry. You wished that you both were different people, in a different time, at a different place, but why? Floyd could never understand the reason why your heart burned like his for a man who could not live next to you. For a man who had fallen from grace and from heaven while you still danced above, singing with all that heaven has given you to bless the ears of this selfish, selfish man in front of you. “I do not wish the same,” Floyd had told you, his words coxed in honey to make you believe that his heart did not yearn as well for this time, that his heart did not beg for you to be with him constantly. Selfish, crude, monster-ish. The words rang in his head, banging against the walls and stabbing him through the heart over and over until he felt it bleed. Selfish. He had made you cry that night, tears running down your flushed cheeks like impure stains that should not have been near you. He shouldn’t have made you cry, you didn’t deserve to cry, yet he did so anyway. What a crude man, what a monstrous man to make a star cry.

To make you cry hurt Floyd more than denying his heart, which was broken and torn into pieces as he watched you leave with such disdain and despair that he was sure someone else could repair. Not him, never him; a selfish greedy man that stood upon the summer grass, who stood upon a crowd full of people he didn’t know, who once stood next to you and your heavenly throne. Selfish. Is a word Floyd never used lightly and he would be damned if he gave himself leeway this time, any time. Never has Floyd ever been so disgusted with himself like he had when he was around you, but it was never your fault; It could never be your fault, it was his own. A burden he carried that weighed him down until he could no longer stand it, thrashing about for a way to escape. For a way to stop the pain. Away. Away from you and away from what you two had become. Never again does he want to taint you with who he has become; diminished, a star with no light. How could you have ever stand being close to someone who could never burn as bright. And then he watched as he took your flame but all for a short time. You cried and screamed, shouting with frightening might one night, “You never loved me… You knew that I loved you and you used that!” Your brightness was now a flame, anger burned instead of beauty and Floyd was scared that he had soiled who you once were. “No,” He had barely croaked out, trying to watch his tone. Yet it was useless as your words were like a scorching stone. They bruised his hair, burned him with bruises too much to bare, and he sunk to the floor in despair. For he loved you so, yet knew you should never know. And now he stood, in a pit in his own despair, within a crowd with faces that could never compare. And you, you stood upon the stage with light so fair. And oh he loved you so, he would repeat the phrase a dozen or so times in his head for the only answer to ring back dead. For you had given him your heart, and he yours. “Be careful,” He had told you oh so long ago, “As you walk home.” For since that night, you had his heart captured and chained and you always gave it a start. For since that night, he knew who he loved and no one, yes no one, could ever replace that feeling he held all so dear. And you had been careful, just as he said. You had held onto his heart with the utmost care, with the utmost importance, and with the utmost love. You were tender and soft, you fed him love. Love that was simple and love that was fair, love that was sweet and could not compare. Love that was soft, and that will forever be there. Forever be there in the corners of his mind. Forever be there, as the stars turn him blind. He would never hope for this fate for you, as it’s too cruel to bear. He would hope you would forget about him and let time head its course, and like the stars patch the wound he had embedded upon your heart. He hoped you didn’t search for his face among the crowd or call out his name in the darkest of night. For you would see only a shadow and gain no response back and it would sully your heart, and he was sure it would make you sad.

Selfish.

The word came back to him, one last time, as he slowly existed the crowd of nameless faces, upon a dark summer night. He slowly backed away from his final chance to mend the heart you had gave to him, now broken and bruised and torn and cut. His final chance to make things right to tell you how much you’re loved.

“I love you, …” Would be the words that died on his lips that night, along with his heart and diminished light.

“I love you” Were the words he wanted to say as he wrapped you in a hug, as he hid you from the pain.

“I love you”, Never again would he burden you with the possibility of those words. For he was not the one to tell you them, he could not claim your heart.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I really do. For my heart was always yours, and your heart was always mine. We were stars, you see, at the start of the world. We were atoms next to each other, always compelled by force. I love you, I love you, oh I love you so. Please stay with me, let us make our hearts whole. I love you, I love you, I love you more… but the words died from his lips before he could even give them a start, a chance, a second of thought.

Maybe, if things were different.

Maybe in another life, if we were different people. Maybe you would be me and maybe I would be you. Maybe we would be lovers, maybe even friends. In every universe I’m sure I will find you and cure your ills.

Maybe I’ll finally get the courage to mend my weeping heart. Maybe I’ll finally get the courage to face the brightest star.

Making a wish is something I had told you to do before, “Maybe a wish my love,” I had said with a tease. Yet the shooting star had shot out too quickly, leaving you with a wishing dream. And now maybe it’s my time to look upon a shooting star and wish to tell you the words that were stuck in my heart:

“I love you,” Without a frightful start. Full and truly, with my whole chest and heart;

“I love you.” I always had and I always do. I was just too scared to tell you.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[chaconnewon]

dazed heart — l.hs

pairing: non-idol!heeseung & fem!reader word count: 1.7k tags: friends to lovers (?), masturbation(male recieving), sub(?)heeseung, kind of whipped reader, teasing if you squint, little nipple play, MDNI lmk if i missed something uwu. a/n: it's my first time writing something sort of excplicit, so i aplogise if it is something wrong. don't be afraid to tell me, constructive criticism are welcome !!!

The rain poured endlessly as you watched it fall through the window. Not like you didn’t like rainy days, in fact you loved them but today's plan was going out with your best friend, a little attempt to clear both of your minds, spend time together since your jobs kept you both bussy. But just a few minutes after your arrival at his house, it started raining.

Sure you could do something indoors, but your heart felt suffocated by his presence at his own home, cold weather making it more difficult for you to stay focused.

You have been friends with Heeseung a while ago, a friend from a friend. You were pathetically quick at catching feelings and decided to keep them to yourself. Heeseung was quite flirty with everyone, even you, and you couldn’t help but imagine how sweet his love must feel. Not thinking about anyone else, no other girls around him, just you and him, together. Sharing feelings and soft cuddles.

Sitting at his gaming chair you rubbed your palms above your thighs, chasing some warmth. You regretted putting those shorts on, searching out for a blanket.

‘’Need anything, pretty?’’

Not those pet names again… You looked at him. He was laying on his bed, scrolling through his social media. Heeseung was wearing some pants on top of his knees with a white t-shirt perfectly buttoned. The way his free hand was placed behind his head, gazing you over the screen made you somewhat flutter.

‘’I’m just feeling a little bit cold, but it’s fine.’’

Heeseung put his phone down, looking at you with furrowed brows.

‘’No, it isn’t. Do you need a blanket? Hoodie? Some sweatpants?’’

‘’I’m okay! Really. Don’t worry.’’

‘’Come here.’’

He patted an empty spot near him on his bed. You hesitated for a while. Was it okay to cuddle with friends? Was it okay to cuddle with someone you had strong feelings for? You didn’t want to ruin anything because of your awkwardness or how you could feel after that. The idea of being wrapped around his arms was so tempting, feeling his warm embrace your body, so close to him.

You let out a small sigh, standing from the chair and walking towards the edge of his bed. Heeseung gave you some space as he watched you with a soft smile spreading through his lips. How could you say no to him? He looked so cute when things turned out his way.

Cautiously you made yourself some space, and soon one of his arms was embroiled to your waist, slightly pulling you closer. ‘It’s just to warm up, Jesus’ you thought to yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. You just hoped he didn’t notice.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. God knew when you could be like this with him again, so you better take that opportunity. Even though you closed your eyes you felt his eyes glued on you.

You tried to act cool, ignoring the glance that made you shiver, but was useless.

‘’Is everything alright?’’

Heeseung took his time to respond.

‘’I just thought you looked very pretty.’’ 

JesusfuckingChrist.

You felt like you stopped breathing, sudden cold sweat running down your back. Was he flirting? Not that you cared but it was a moment sort of… intimate. 

‘’Must be the outfit i choose.’’ He chuckled, shaking his head.

‘’No — I mean always.’’

This time you couldn’t keep yourself together. With some hidden courage you looked up, searching for his gaze but Heeseung was looking at you previously. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed. 

You parted your lips as an intent to say something but nothing came to your mind. It was blank. Was even worse when you caught his eyes analysing your facial expression, your eyes one by one, reaching your lips and back again to your eyes. 

This flirty motherfucker. 

“Heeseung—“

“Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t think twice, taking his offer like your life depended on it. You nodded but before he could make any move, you readjusted your position for a better and comfortable access. 

Taking your time, you slowly made disappear any space between your lips, pressing on them. 

It lasted about a few seconds before Heeseung started to move them softly. There was no rush: his parents weren’t at home, and the heavy rain made the perfect atmosphere. You didn’t doubt before kissing him back, savouring his lips. They were as soft and sweet as you pictured in your head. 

Suddenly, somehow, you took the lead and straddled him, deepening the kiss a bit more. His hands were placed at your waist, caressing them with both thumbs. You broke the union between both mouths to kiss his neck. Hearing his breath hitch gave you the impulse to continue, to work his tender skin with your teeths and tongue. 

As your mouth began to earn soft gasps from him, your hands worked to unbutton his t-shirt. Opening it and slid it through his arms. 

Your lips went down his collarbone, making sure no inch of skin was untouched by your lips. His hand roamed your body, leaving soft sighs against his skin. You couldn’t believe that was happening, like a dream come true.  You were afraid that it was just a lucid dream, your imagination scaring you for leading into such an accurate scenario. But the way his body was softly moving under yours, claiming in silence for more of your touch made you feel more alive than ever. 

Your lips trailed down damp kisses, arriving to catch one of his nipples. You sucked and licked amused by the noises his throat left. Starting to feel aroused, your hips began to rock his, feeling his boner getting hard in no time.

‘’Y/n… ‘’ his lips let out a moan, his hands grabbing your waist.

As his hips were rubbing your clothing core, you detached your lips from him, looking up to meet his gaze.

The image was heavenly. Chest going up and down trying to catch his breath, cheeks with a slight blush on them, and his pleading eyes trying to tell you something, but he was a little bit shy to say it out loud. You could figure it out tho.

Your hands flew to the hem of his pants, looking once again to hip waiting for a response. When he nodded, you hooked the waistband and slowly pulled down. With a bit of his help, the bottoms were forgotten somewhere on the floor.

You couldn’t help but look at his erection, a small damp patch darking his underwear. 

‘’S--Stop looking, it’s embarrassing…’’

You chuckled, shaking your head. 

‘’Says who?’’

And before Heeseung could say anything, you grabbed his shaft around your hand and started to move it up and down. The fabric between his dick and your palm was making the move a bit restricted, but it didn’t stop you.

You saw him grabbing the sheets under both of you, holding back a few moans that were hard to retain. You didn’t want that, you needed to hear him. How good you were making him feel. 

You sped up your pace, making his body squirm as his lips parted to let out soft, kind-of-pitched moans. That kept you going, ignoring the wetness between your legs, just wanting to focus on him.

‘’Please p--please… take…’’

‘’Hm?’’

You knew. Heeseung knew you knew. And he wasn’t having it.

‘’Don’t test me, y/n.’’

‘’Oh? What’s with that tone?’’ you squeezed his tip, earring a loud moan from him. ‘’Watch out.’’

You were having the time of your life, having him at your service and there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do. Fuck, that submissive trait of him made you hornier. 

‘’I’m sorry just — take it out, please.’’

Enough of making Heeseung suffer. You nodded at his words, hooking the hem of his underwear and pulling down enough for his dick to come out, smacking his abs. Took you a few minutes to resume what you were doing. His tip was covered up with pre cum, so when you slid your hand all the way down, it was smooth.

No slow pace this time, just you jerking off your best friend like it was a usual activity between him and you. And it could be your frequent activity to do more often if he wanted, but now wasn’t the right time to think about that. The way your name left his lips made your head spin.

His eyes were closed, hands holding for dear life into his bed sheets that his knuckles were turning white. Oh, to engrave that image in your brain.

Soon his hips helped you out, bucking into your fist like he was fucking you deep inside. At that point, Heeseung could care less if the neighbours could hear him.

‘’Fuck! Just like that… feels so good.’’

His back was arched a bit, and even your arm was starting to feel numb due the lack of experience, somewhere inside you took strength to continue pleasing him. 

Your hand was moving up and down, the slick noises filling the room as you gave everything to help him reach his highest point. No inch of his dick was left unnoticed, sometimes you slowed your pace reaching his base just for coming back at his tip to stroke it with eagerness. 

Heeseung could feel a knot tighten on his abdomen.

‘’Fuckfuckfuck! D–Don’t stop please…! I’m s–so close!’’

It was fucking tempting to suddenly stop any move, only for him to cry and beg you to continue, that he was feeling so good for you to stop. But you were not that mean, right?

You sped up your pace a little more, all that your aching limb let you. Heeseung was just a few strokes away from release.

‘’God! I’m cumming! K–Keep going I’m cumm—’’

His words lingered in the air as the climax reached him, tensing his body.

As he told you, you kept your pace, helping him through his high. Heeseung’s back was arched, his hot seed dripping down your hand and reaching his abs. Mouth opened as quiet moans left his throat.

Gently, as his cock softened in your hands, you stopped your movements watching him come back to reality. He gave you a tired look but in his lips was a smirk.

‘’That was…’’

‘’...amazing, wasn’t it? I can tell.’’

He laughed, kicking you softly with his knee.

‘’ Wait, let me bring you some towels to clean this mess.’’

You caressed his thigh, leaving towards the bathroom. As you left, Heeseung sighed feeling complete, his heart pounding fiercly inside his chest.

[nanamis-princess]

My Muse

Synopsis: you are something to be admired

Genre: smut MDIR

T/w: gender neutral reader, sexual tension, mentions of getting hard (not reader) Gojo, geto & reader are in a poly relationship, cûck geto, choso works for an adult company, reader receiving head, reader gives Shoko head. If there is anything else lmk

A/n: this is my first time writing smut, very nervous okay bye🧍‍♀️

Photographer nanami x muse reader, painter geto x muse gojo x muse reader, illustrator chose x muse reader, sex painter shoko x reader

Photographer Kento who met you at an art exhibition and seen the potential of your beauty. Who introduced himself almost immediately after he spotted you across the room.

Photographer Kento who talked to you all evening as you walked through the exhibition. Who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself the whole night. Smiling at him softly “I never caught your name” you say walking along side him. Looking at you with a small smile “I apologize for not introducing myself, I’m Nanami Kento and yourself?” He asks. The naming sounding familiar, asking yourself where you’d heard it before and then it clicked. The art tags at the bottom of the photos in the exhibition, this was his art.

Photographer Kento who asked for your number by the end of the night and has been texting you every chance he gets. He decides to ask you over dinner at his house to be his muse. He gentle takes your hand, looking you in the eyes “I think you are astonishing and have so much potential” his eyes search yours to see if he’s possibly overstepped. When you nod smiling he smiles back.

Photographer Kento tested the waters with you in the beginning, making sure that you were comfortable. Who reminded you to take it at your own pace. The fan lightly blowing towards you, you posed in lingerie on his bed on your knees. Click. Click. Click.

Photographer Kento tries to be professional as possible at your next session. Trying to not let his eyes wonder for too long as he adjusts settings on his camera when you come out in just a black robe. Turning on his lighting as you take it off and get in position. your legs closed slightly covering your intimate part your left arm draped over your chest. You look at him with hooded eyes as he steps closer. His thoughts going a mile a minute of how he would pleasure you and what you’d taste like on his tongue. Click. Click. Click.

Photographer Kento takes a slight deep breath in as he feels his pants getting tighter. Who leans in his eyes flickering from your eyes then your lips before fixing a piece of your hair, just as he’s about to step back you grab his shirt tugging him to come closer. He kisses you with longing as your body meets him half way. When you both pull away for air a string of saliva is left between you two. Your lips slightly puffy from how lustful the kiss was. Kento’s thumb comes up to your lip to wipe the spit off the bottom when you kiss the tip of his thumb. Groaning lowly he keeps his thumb on your lip and lifts the camera back up, your eyes go from him to the camera. Click. Click. Click.

Painter Suguru looks up from his blank canvas as he ties up his hair looking at his lovers sprawled out on your shared bed. Waiting for the passion to strike, Satour’s hand between your thighs moving diligently to soon push you over the edge as his lips on your neck and your head throw back. Suguru picks up his brush and begins.

Painter Suguru’s eyes are filled with lust, his eyes flickered from you both to the canvas. For a moment he pauses taking in the movement of your bodies. You let out a muffled whine as satoru changes the pace and goes slowly “they are close toru, don’t tease” he purrs, working away at the canvas.

Painter Suguru and satoru practically have heart eyes as they watches you cum, a little smirk on Suguru’s face knowing Satoru’s next move. he peaks his head around the canvas as toru messily kisses down your body down to your heat before licking lightly looking up at you before going in fully.

Painter Suguru finds the noises both you and satoru make like music to his ears. The heavy breaths and whines coming from you as toru messily gives you head makes his cock leak precum in his shorts.

Painter Suguru desperately wants to relieve the ache of his cock pressing tightly against his shorts but stays focused on the canvas. Painting away as he captures both yours and satoru’s liking.

Painter Suguru bites his bottom lip slightly as you arch your back to meet toru’s mouth, you make eye contact with him and let out a soft whimper of his name. He stands up taking off his shorts & apron. He’s got the base of the painting down, he’ll come back to it eventually.

Illustrator choso who was so excited to tell you he got the job at this new agency that creates adult media. With your permission most of the drawings in his art portfolio were based off intimate moments with you.

Illustrator choso hunched over at his desk as you worked the night shift, thinking about the last time he was with you. He set his pencil down leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes & thinking of you. How good you looked underneath him last night, the sounds you made and how you call for his name. Feeling himself start to get hard he let out a huff before sitting back up to draw.

Illustrator choso who can’t stop thinking about what you look like just when your about to release. Like the other night when you got all shy and tried covering your face “don’t get all shy for me now” he groaned slowing down a little as he pinned your hands above your head.

Illustrator choso who loves the fact intimate moments with you are ingrained in his brain. He closes his eyes and reimagines those moments with you or brings up new things to try together.

Sex painter Shoko who brings up the idea over dinner with you. Her eyes lidded as she kisses your neck “it’ll be so messy sho” you say a little embarrassed. “But it’ll be so intimate and I want to see what we can create together” she whispers into your ear before kissing the shell of it.

Sex painter shoko who set it all up in her living room and has you laying on your back. The thin layer of plastic blotches paint onto the thin canvas beneath you both. She crawls on top of you slowly and kisses you deeply. Grinding herself slowly into your lap as you find yourself melting to her touch.

Sex painter Shoko who lustfully rubs your body as before she gently caressing your sex while keeping eye contact. Your body presses colors together as she works away the stress from you. She slips down between your legs as you watch her. Her eyes slightly hooded as she looks up at you while giving you head. Her thighs clench together slightly hearing the sounds slipping from you.

Sex painter Shoko who loses herself when flip her over gently and you go down on her. Her hands rest on your head and her body slightly twitches. The colors all splotching together beneath her. All the stress and pent up tension washes away once you bring her to release. You guys hang the painting of beautiful colors over your bed.