#but like the thought of being in a bathing suit around them terrifies me

[w0nderland]

.

[harryhighkey]

let you go

hi! - this is lowkey the last part of my frontman x reader series!!

thank you so so so much for all the love on this series I have had the best time writing it!!! I love my version of In-ho fr and I'm glad others did too!!

lowkey the last part because I'm not fully done with these characters yet but this series is done, does that make sense? lmaoo basically end of series but not end of them !!

please let me know what you think!!!!!! happy reading!!

a frontman x reader series - masterlist to series here

Waking up felt like bliss.

The bed you were sleeping on was the comfiest bed you had ever slept on, the sheets around you were so soft against your skin, the pillow your head rested on curved against your neck and skull perfectly.

You sighed at how comfortable you felt, your eyes still closed as you were still in that limbo between being asleep and awake. You couldn't remember the last time you had such a peaceful sleep. All the aches and tightness that had gathered up in your body over the past days had left from your rest in this bed of luxury. Did this mean that the games were over?

The games.

Your eyes sprung open at that thought, suddenly you were snapped wide awake.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar, the room all black and sleek. You sat up in the bed, the sheets falling from your body at the movement. That's when you realised you were out of your Player 183 outfit. The blood stained green and white outfit had been replaced for a clean black shirt that had a baggy fit on you. You pushed the sheets from you further and saw that black sweat pants dressed your bottom half. They also looked baggy but the drawstring had been done up tight to keep them on you.

Just as you were wondering who had dressed you, you then noticed the clothes weren't the only clean thing. You yourself realised how you felt so clean and fresh. The slightest smell of soap still lingering on your skin.

Who bathed me?

The relaxed state you had been in while waking up was quickly changing. Your breath quickened as you started to panic, you had no idea if you were still in danger or not.

In a rush, you jumped up from the bed and went to the door. You were terrified as your hand gripped the handle, you didn't turn it yet, you had no idea what was on the other side. What if another sick game was waiting for you? You pressed your ear against the door, it was silent. You took in a deep breath and attempted to turn the handle.

It was locked.

"Fuck." You said out loud. You tried again, but it would not budge, you were trapped in here. Once you stopped trying to turn it, you heard a noise on the other side, your heart beat faster as you leaned in again. You could hear someone walking right towards the door.

Frantically you turned back around, frightened tears filling your eyes as you looked for somewhere to hide. Your quick scan of the bedroom came up empty. You heard a key going into the door handle, you had to act fast.

The next second, you were scrambling under the bed. As the door opened you clamped your own hand over your mouth, not wanting to make a sound.

You watched black boots take a few steps into the room and shut the door once they were in. The boots walked around the bed, you kept your eyes trained on them, the only other thing you could see of this person was the ankles of the black suit pants they wore.

"You can come out now." He spoke, that same authoritative voice you had come to know so well the past few days.

Young-il?

"Come on, pretty girl. Weren't you so much more comfortable on top of the bed?"

It was definitely him, but you had no idea what was going on. Why was he dressed differently too? Why were you both in this room? How had you made it out of the fight? You were trying desperately to piece together your last memories of the fight between the players and the guards, but you were pulled back to reality by the man kneeling on the ground. You watched with wide eyes as he leant down and finally, you could see his face.

You were relieved it was him, but he looked different like this. Dressed in all black, his hair pushed back. He was the one who had been comforting you when you felt exactly like this these past few days, but right now he half looked like a stranger.

You hadn't said a word but he was gathering all he needed to know from your body language. He saw how scared you were, cowering in on yourself under his bed. Slowly, he held out his hand to you. "Let me help you out from under there." His voice came out harder than he meant it to. While you had been sleeping, he had to go back to being the Frontman, and he had to do to gain control back from the players. It had been intense. You frowned at his tone, and he knew he had to bring back the man you knew him as, the man he wanted to be for you. So he tried again, softer this time. "It's me, baby, you don't have to be scared."

Your eyes shifted from his and to his hand, remembering all the times you had held it, all the times that same hand had helped you, comforted you, guided you, lifted you, caressed you, touched you. Cautiously, you placed yours into his, your fear easing a little at the familiar feeling of his hand engulfing yours, grateful that still felt the same.

He aided in pulling you out from the under the bed, sitting you down on the side of the bed where he sat beside you, his hand never letting go of yours.

The silence between you both was deafening, you had a thousand questions going through your head, you weren't sure where to even start.

"You're safe now, you're out of the games. For good." He told you, one of your unspoken questions answered.

In-ho had become a master at reading body language, you were being guarded right now but he was concentrating on any micro expressions you might offer up. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto a few strands of his slicked back hair that had fallen forward from when he had knelt down just then. Those strands of hair made him seem more like the man you had come to care for. He noticed you looking, he squeezed your hand in his, wanting to prompt you to talk.

"You look different." Was all you could manage to say, you slipped your hand out of his and as much as he wanted to grab it again, he let you have your space. You scooted back up to the headboard, leaning your back against it and gathering your legs to your chest as a makeshift guard.

He needed you to come back to him, to open up, to let him in again, so he tried to keep things light-hearted. "So do you." He gestured to the clothes on your body with a smile. You looked down at yourself in the black clothes that didn't belong to you.

"Who's clothes are these?"

"Mine."

"Who dressed me?"

"Me."

"Who bathed me?"

"Me." He answered your questions honestly. You snapped your gaze to his, eye contact locked with one another. Your face was screwing up, you felt exposed. Subconsciously, you wrapped your arms around yourself and pulled your legs in tighter. He could see you thinking the worst, he couldn't have you thinking of him like that. "I didn't do anything else other than wash you. I thought you would rest much better feeling fresh and clean. I would never touch or do anything like that to you without your consent." His words were serious.

He wasn't wrong, you had enjoyed a very deep sleep. That lead you to another thought. "When did I even fall asleep? I don't remember getting here." You were thinking out loud. You remember saying bye to Dae-ho. The bullets flying. Running with Player 001. Him kissing you. Him drugging you.

In-ho kept his face still as you suddenly froze. You were piecing it together, you were remembering. You were trying your hardest not to react now that it was coming back, but he was a master in unspoken human language.

"(Y/N), anything I did was to take care of you-"

"Stop." You cut him off, lifting one of your hands and holding it in front of his face. You looked back to him, a frown etched into your face. You focused on his eyes, they were still the same. You still trusted them. Slowly, you lowered your hand. "What was in the needle?"

"Just a bit of general sedative, it was only meant to knock you out for a couple of hours."

"How long was I out?"

"11 hours."

"What?! Why was it so long? Did you give me more?!" You were instantly angered, he had to diffuse this.

"No, no. You must have been exhausted from the games, you were deep asleep. I kept checking on you to make sure you were okay. I didn't try to wake you, I figured you needed the rest."

"I've been here the whole time? In this bed?"

"Yes. Except for when I bathed you, I did that then put you to bed."

"I was completely knocked for that?"

"Yes." He continued to answer you honestly, if your constant questions was going to keep you here with him, he was glad about that, so he would continue to answer.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Bathe me."

"I-"

"No." You cut him off again. "Show me. I need to know how you did it. Show me here what you did."

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was so thick between you both that you were almost panting. You knew there was other things you should be asking him, he knew it too.

He shifted first, removing his heavy boots, discarding them on the floor and then moving across the bed until he was sitting beside you. His back leaning against the headboard with his legs outstretched. You kept your eyes trained on him, as he did with you.

"I was like this, but, if you want me to show you..." he looked down at the empty space in between his legs and then back to you. "I had you in front of me."

Your eyes trailed down his position on the large bed. Against your better judgement, you crawled to the spot in front of him. Once you were sat between his legs, you leant back against him. His solid chest felt familiar against your back, like you were back in your tiny bunk. He wrapped his arms around you, despite everything, his touch still comforted you so you relaxed against him.

"We were like this?"

"Yes."

Silence fell between you both as you tried to picture it. You found yourself wishing you had been conscious for it, to experience being so intimately close to him. Was that wrong? You weren't sure he was the man you thought he was anymore.

You needed to distract yourself from those thoughts. "Where are we?"

"My bedroom."

You looked around the room again, searching for clues that told you more about him, desperate to find something that showed you he was still the man you had grown close to. There was nothing super defining, the room was so minimally decorated.

Who was he?

You wouldn't find out unless you asked. But you were terrified of an answer you already knew.

"Young-il-"

He cut you off. "In-ho."

"What?"

"My name is not Young-il. It's In-ho. Hwang In-ho."

Suddenly his hold wasn't comforting, you tensed up, tears blurred your vision, you hadn't even known this man's real name. What if it all had been fake? You tried to get up but he tightened his hold around you.

"Let me go!"

"No."

"Yes!" You thrashed against him, but your strength was no match for his. At one point you had freed one of your arms but all you'd managed to grab was a pillow that just as much hit your own head as well as his when you swung it back to get him with it. Before you could grab anything else, he pinned your arm back under his in the hold he had around you. You tried arching your back but he would twist his arms further around you. restricting the space you had to move.

You tried to wiggle, squirm, kick, turn and flail out of his grip, but it was no use.

You collapsed back against him with a sigh, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"Are you done?" He spoke with a clenched jaw.

"No." Stubbornly, you began tossing and turning again. In-ho's patience was wearing thin, his fingertips started to dig into your sides. However when you stopped and flinched, yelping out an "ow!" he relaxed his fingers, remembering how you had been hurt during Mingle and it was right where he was pressing into you. He saw the bruises that were painting your skin when he had you in the bath, how could he hurt you knowing they were there?

You'd found it unintentionally, his weakness. Your chance to escape was so close. "You're hurting me!" You cried out, his heart ached at the thought, he had sworn to do the opposite of hurting you, he was meant to keep you safe, unharmed.

The second you felt his hold loosen, you broke free. You didn't spare a moment before you leapt up from the bed

"(Y/N)!" In-ho reached out for you but you were already opening the door and making a run for it.

You ran through a black hallway until you were in a much larger room. You didn't stop moving as you looked for a doorway, knowing In-ho was only steps behind you. Upon spotting it, you sprinted.

"(Y/N), stop!"

"No!" You yelled back, your hands landing on the door handle but when you went to twist it, it didn't move. "No." This time your no was defeated. You were faced with another locked door. You were trapped.

You hadn't left the games at all, this was just another one, a different kind. A game where your heart was playing against your head. Your heart wanted to run right back to the man who had trapped you in this room, if he didn't care about you, you would be dead by now. But your head said to find a way out, he had lied to you, you couldn't trust him.

You turned back to In-ho, he had stopped chasing you - knowing you couldn't get out - instead he had taken a seat on the luxurious couch in the centre of the room. His eyes locked onto yours as he took a sip of the dark liquid in the glass in his hand.

You broke the eye contact first, distracted by an object that was resting on the table beside the couch. Your breath hitched in your throat as you walked closer, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you lifted it.

It was a mask, all black, you could see a distorted looking face made out of geometric shapes within it.

"Do you like it?" In-ho dared to ask, seeing you hold it in one hand while your other traced the lines along it.

You looked back to him then. "Let me out, In-ho." You said his name with distaste.

He shouldn't have but he smiled, he liked hearing you finally say his name even if it was said with spite.

Your temper was reaching it's boiling point and acting on an impulse, you brought the mask up and threw it right at his face with all of your strength. His reflexes were quick though, he brought his hands up in front of his face to block the impact. The mask smashed the glass that was still in his hand. Pieces of it went flying, one of which was right to his face, leaving a cut to his cheek.

As he lowered his hands from his face, it was his temper that had reached a boiling point now. You stepped back as he stood up, you were terrified of what he would do. He noticed and it annoyed him more.

"Stupid girl," he started with an insult, "you should know by now that I won't hurt you." His voice was laced with anger. "The taking of your life would have been an easy one. Instead, I chose to keep you alive, which proved to be a much harder task." He brought his hand up to his own face to apply pressure to the cut, blood beginning to pool and threatening to spill down his skin. "It seems I can't have the same trust in you, though." In-ho was a master manipulator, he wanted his words to make you feel guilty.

It worked.

Before you could say anything, he picked up his mask and took quick steps to the door, using a key to unlock it.

"Wait!" You yelled as he opened it and stepped out, you tried to hurry over to it before it was closed, but you weren't quick enough. The door was locked again.

-----

You didn't know how much time had passed since In-ho had left. You just knew it had been a long time and you had gone through a range of emotions.

First it was anger, you pounded on the door, screaming at the top of your lungs, throwing things around. Next came claustrophobia, sure the area of this apartment was large but you were locked in here. That lead to the hyper alertness, familiarising yourself with every inch of this space. You'd found certain things that told you more about him, - In-ho - you'd said his name out loud again and again, getting used to saying it in place of Young-il. Fear filled you when the door opened and guards walked in, but they didn't say a word as they brought in food and drinks on a bar cart for you then quickly exited. Seeing the guards confirmed you were still somewhere close to where the games were taking place, that lead to you feeling concerned for the people you'd grown closer to in there. Were they still alive? Were the games still taking place?

The games. The all too familiar panic surged through you as the haunting memories you had experienced filled your mind, all of the terror, the sounds of gun shots, the hundreds of dead bodies, the blood, death, death, death.

You lost the ability to take in a complete breath, each time you attempted to do so it would only make your airflow more uneven. You tried putting your own hand against your chest, the same way Player 001 had done when he calmed you down from feeling this way. Your trembling hand didn't have the same magic touch.

What you didn't know is that In-ho had been keeping an eye on you from the cameras hidden so up high you didn't spot them. He was busy keeping an eye on the contestants now that he had officially resumed his role as Frontman, but he was never so busy that he couldn't watch over you, as well.

He'd observed you going through each emotion over the past several hours. This was the worst one for him to see because of the guilt that consumed him. In-ho as the Frontman kept these games going, the games that had done this to you. His own trauma from his own experience of being a contestant had turned him into the Frontman, he couldn't let yours turn you evil, he had to keep you good. You were his last shred of hope.

-----

You hid yourself away in the bed, you cacooned yourself in the luxury sheets and blankets, you weren't even that cold, you just wanted to shield yourself with something. Much like a young child who was experiencing a loud storm for the first time. Tears spilled down your cheeks, whimpers sounded out, your body shivered, you weren't sure how you ever going to get used to dealing with the terror you had experienced.

You were facing the doorway when In-ho walked in. Scared eyes meeting concerned ones. You knew it was wrong but you were so relieved to see him. He knew that was wrong too.

For tonight, you both would ignore that fact. "Please hold me." You cried out and it was his turn to feel relief. All he wanted to do was hold you and comfort you, but he needed you to let him in first.

Once he joined you in the bed, his arms came around you to pull you against him and you tangled your legs with his.

"Deep breaths, remember?" In-ho told you, moving his hand to your chest and holding his open hand against it to soothe you. You listened and with your eyes locked on his, you tried to take a full one in, the air got hitched in your throat more than a few times. "Again." In-ho commanded, nodding with each breath you took until they finally evened out.

Laying there with your heads on the same pillow, this felt like the man you had known, but he was different now.

"Was Young-il real?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho didn't know how to answer. It was an act to begin with, but his feelings for you were the most true thing he had felt in a long time. "Yes and no." You frowned slightly and averted your gaze from his and he felt you make the slightest shift away from him. "Everything between us was real."

You sighed and then silence fell between you both. You were still having that internal battle in your mind of if you could accept all of him now. What you didn't know is that In-ho had been having his own internal battle and he'd made the decision for you.

"I'm going to let you go, let you leave." He announced. Witnessing you still experiencing the affects of the games even though you were out and safe, he knew you needed to not be around any reminders of it at all if you were to properly heal. Him included. He knew the risk of this, that you could go out and report what had happened, but that had happened before, barely anyone got taken seriously. He was willing to take that risk for the sake of your mental wellbeing.

"What?"

"In the morning, you'll leave. I'll arrange it for you, you'll get home safely. Your debts have already been taken care of. You'll be completely free of anything that happened here, I promise you."

You were in shock, some sort of relief washed over you, but you were indifferent to it. You were hearing what he wasn't saying.

"I won't see you again?"

"No."

You couldn't deny the pain in your heart at the thought of that.

"Leave with me?"

"I wish I could, but it's not that simple for me, baby."

The glimmer of tears appeared in both your eyes as you looked at one another, your bottom lip wobbled and In-ho's gaze shifted to it. There was something he had to do just one last time.

When he leant in to kiss to you, you clung to him. Your heart swelled at the feeling of his lips on yours. The taste of salt snuck in as a few tears fell between the kiss, you weren't sure if they were yours or In-ho's.

In-ho pulled back first, but he quickly left another chaste peck to your lips. "I have to go." He said simply, he was breaking his own heart and he knew the longer this goodbye was drawn out the worse of an affect it would have on him.

"No-" You reached out for him as he started to get up from the bed, you managed to grab one of his hands.

He turned to look at you with a sad smile, bringing your hand up to kiss it, too. "Stay in here tonight, have a good sleep, you're safe in here. A guard will knock on the door in the morning, you answer when you're ready, they'll wait for you. And then you'll be taken home."

He went to turn away but you tugged on his hand. "In-ho," how bittersweet you were finally calling him by his real name so sweetly, but he wouldn't hear it again after tonight. "Can you rub my head until I fall asleep?"

He knew he should have said no, just like he should have the first night when you asked him the same thing, then none of this would have happened. But he was greedy when it came to you, how could he deny his pretty girl this last request?

"Yes."

[faghubby]

Discovering cock

I opened the bedroom door to see my friend naked. He was getting changed I had not even thought about it. I figured he had used the bathroom. But there he was naked.

"Dude do you have a different suit I can borrow" he asked holding up my spare bathing suit. I couldn't help but notice his cock swinging between his legs. "These are too short" he added. I was wearing the only other suit I owned.

"I guess we could swap" I told him. I grabbed the suit he was holding and went to leave.

"Bruh where you going?" He asked confused. I kinda felt embarrassed. But realized I was being silly. I took off my swim trunks in front of him. And tossed then to him. He bent to put them on and I just stood there watching. His cock was so big I felt myself stirring.

"Here" he smiled pulling the suit down exposing his cock again.

"Mark, what the hell" I shouted.

"Stop" he said like he was ordering a dog. And took the two steps to stand next to me. He grabbed my hand and guided it to his cock.

"That's what you want isn't it?" He said. I was unable to look at him I just held his growing cock. My own dick throbbing as it stood straight up pressing against my stomach.

"You look like you're going to burst just from holding my cock" he said softly his breath now in my ear.

Suddenly there was a banging on the door. "Let's go guys" Kelly my sister yelled.

"Yeah hold on" I shouted releasing Mark's cock as I did. He pulled up the swim trunks and as I bent over to put on my spare his hand grabbed my ass. I jumped almost falling over. He handed me the towels to hold in front of me so no one would notice my erection. As we went to get in the car. I noticed Kelly checking Mark out. Even though Mark was a year younger then her. I felt jealous. Really I wa jealous of my sister checking out Mark. What the hell was wrong with me. Kelly drove, we picked up her friend Jenny on the way. And headed to the beach. It was about an hour drive. He stopped at a gas station close to the beach. And Mark kinda took me into the bathroom. I didn't have to go. But he guided me to a urinal.

"Hold it for me" he said. I looked around terrified. But we where alone. I reach over and held his dick while he peed. After as I washed my hands he pressed up behind me.

"You are such a little gay bitch" he whispered in my ear. I tried to push him away. But he was way bigger then me.

"You want me to make you do it don't you, make you go gay for me" he hissed his tounge darting in my ear. Before he let me go. I rushed back to the car hoping no one saw my erection.

On the beach Mark started flirting with Kelly and Jenny alot. They all rubbed lotion on each other. I spent the whole day hiding my erections. We where leaving and Jenny made some kind of joke about me being shy.

"Paulie, 19 and never been kissed" Kelly told them laughing. Mark jokingly grabbed me.

"Come on now give me a kiss" he laughed. Once again I got hard. As the girls laughed. But didn't notice. But as we continued to the car Mark grabbed my ass. I ran ahead to the car. Mark offered to drive home. The girls taking the back seat. Where soon asleep. Mark grabbed my hand and guided it towards his crotch. I panicked looking back at the sleeping girls. But didn't move my hand. Instead rubbing his thigh and feeling the edge of his cock. For almost the rest of the trip home. Only pulling back when Kelly woke up. Both Mark and Jenny slept over. Mark slid into my bed naked. He pushed up behind me. I felt his cock against my thigh. But just as he did the door to my bedroom opened. Someone kept over to the bed. I pulled away from Mark but played like I was asleep. I heard Jenny giggle. To something Mark did. He got up and went with Jenny. But as he got up he quietly ran his hand across my ass. I heard him sneak into Kelly's room. Curiosity got to me and I snuck out and listened at the door. I could clearly hear not only Mark and Jenny but Kelly as well. Fucking and sucking was all I could guess at.

I rushed back to my room and jerked off. Finally getting the relief I had wanted all day. I didn't stop till I came twice. Then cleaned up and fell asleep. I don't know how long I was asleep but I woke to Jenny's tits pressing into my back as she played with my dick.

"I never had a virgin" she whispered in my ear. But even as she played with me I couldn't get hard. After jerking off twice.

"You don't like me?" Jenny teased.

"No, it's just I um" I stuttered.

"Played with yourself" Jenny teased. "Where you thinking about me?" She continued. "Well such a shame" she giggled and slipped out of the bed. I was so embarrassed I didn't even turn to peek at her naked body. I fell back to sleep. When I got up I headed to the bathroom to find Mark coming out of Kelly's room. Mark had fucked both of them last night I thought in awe. Rather then mad that he had slept with my sister it made me jealous. Was a jealous of Kelly?

Mark grabbed my ass. "Jenny give you a ride?" He asked.

"No, the little pervert wore himself out before I got there" Jenny answered from the kitchen with a smile. Kelly joined us she wore just a thong and tee shirt that didn't quite cover her ass. I was embarrassed seeing my sister like that. Mark grabbed her ass as well and again I was jealous. Not of Mark but my sister. Was I gay? Did I want Mark? I tried to focus on Jenny. Jenny also just wore panties and a tee shirt but her panties covered her ass. Jenny had made us all breakfast. We sat down to eat. And I felt Mark's hand guide my hand to his crotch. I couldn't breathe. What if Jenny saw? But I didn't pull my hand away. Instead my finger traced the outline of his cock. Thru his shorts. After breakfast Mark got up and took Kelly's hand and led her to the bathroom to shower. Jenny just smiled.

"Well guess you got dishes" she told me. And went back to Kelly's room. Kelly and Mark finished and Jenny jumped in the shower. By the time it was my turn the water was ice cold. I didn't look when I got out but Jenny was doing her hair.

"Smaller then I thought" she giggled. As she rubbed against me as she left the bathroom. Kelly drove Mark and Jenny home. Before they left Mark pulled me into my room.

"I might keep Kelly out all day, and the house has to be cleaned up before your parents return tonight" he stated I knew this. They had been away all week. And the house was a mess. "So I would appreciate it if you help your sister out and do her chores" he said his hand cupped my face. Then slid down my neck and shoulder. I bit my lip. His hand pushed me back against the wall and lightly pinched my nipple. I leaned forward and kissed him. I wasn't gay. But I wanted him.

"Good boy" he smiled. "You will do this for me then?" He asked. I nodded. "Make sure Kelly's room gets done too" he told me. Then grabbed my ass. And left me standing there my dick straining in my shorts. Suddenly I was home alone with a whole day of cleaning to get done. I got to work right away. I did the dishes and started laundry. Annoyed I had let myself get trapped into doing all of this cleanup. When I got a text from Mark.

"Do you like this?" It said. It was a mannequin in a pink thong stockings and lacy bra. I didn't answer. He then set me a dick pic. His cock rock hard in his hand he must of been in a public bathroom.

"How about this?" He sent. I just responded with a embarrassed emoji. From his other messages he and the girls where out shopping. I went into Kelly's room to gather more laundry. In the middle of the floor was a pink thong like the one Mark had sent a pic of. It was dirty I picked it had realized it was covered in dry cum. Mark's cum! I gathered up all her clothes and carried then. To the laundry room. I held up my sisters dirty thong to my nose and breathed in. This was so wrong they where my sister's dirty panties. I tossed themmin the washer. And jerked off. Wondering what Mark tasted like, had Kelly sucked his cock, and swallowed his cum, had Jenny. Where Jenny's dirty panties here? I went back to Kelly's room to look. I was naked. Stroking and teasing my cock as I did. I didn't find Jenny's panties. Instead I opened up Kelly's drawer and pulled out a pair of Kelly's clean panties, they where soft, I rubbed myself with them. I put the panties on and rubbed myself thru them. Thinking about Mark and his big cock. I didn't want the sensation to end. Instead I teased myself over and over. Stopping to do chores to calm myself. Then teasing myself again. It became a game I wouldn't touch myself until I finished cleaning something. Then denied myself again until I finished the next task. A few hours passed before I couldn't take it and filled Kelly's panties with my cum. I took them off and curious I tasted my cum from her panties. Suddenly ashamed again I tossed them in the washer. But went and put on another pair of Kelly's panties. I had cleaned the whole house. Then started to wonder about mom's things. I went into my parents room I had not entered their room in years I thought as I snuck around afraid I would get caught even thought no one was due home. Opened my mother's night stand and found a purple vibrator. I picked it up it was big I thought. I played fiddled with it. Turning it on and adjusting the settings. I held it against myself my dick got hard. I thought about Mark's cock rubbing against mine. Then I bought it to my mouth and sucked on the tip. I would suck Mark's cock like this. I told myself. I thought I heard a noise and quickly put the toy back and rushed to ,y room sliding on shorts over the panties. It was nothing. I had finished the whole house. Even folded all of Kelly's laundry. But I kept the pink thong hiding it in my room. Maybe I could wear it for Mark one day. Kelly didn't come home instead had waited till late and gone to the airport to pick up our parents. So when they came home Kelly was even more surprised at the job I had done cleaning up.

I didn't hear from Mark for a few days, till he called and told me he pick me up in 20 minutes. Excited I put on Kelly's thong I had stolen under my shorts then met him outside he pulled up. I jumped in his car. His hand immediately grabbed mine and I reached over and teased his cock thru his loose shorts. I slid my hand up his pants leg as he turned down an old dirt road. Parking at the end.

"Go ahead faggot" he smiled. I was scared but pulled his shorts down pulling his cock out of his shorts. I couldn't look at him instead I took the head of his cock in my mouth. "Such a good slut" he told me. As he just laid back and let me please him. I didn't know what I was doing but I just listened to his moans and breathing. I tasted his precum in my mouth. Then he tensed and came all over my face. The first shot was in my mouth but I gagged. Then the next hit my cheek then my eye. Four maybe five spurts of his seed spilled across my face. I sat up. But Mark was still hard.

"Show me your ass, I bet it's as fine as your sister's" he told me as he opened the door. And led me out thru the driver's door.

"Mark, I" I started but he pushed me over the hood of his car. He yanked down my pants and laughed. He already had some kind of lube. As he pulled the thong to the side and worked a finger in.

"You are mine now bitch" he told me. He worked in a second and third finger. Precum stained my panties. He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his big thick cock. It hurt and I wimpered as he worked it in. But soon the pain changed to desire and I welcomed his long deep thrusts. He didn't stop until he pumped his second load into my ass. He then pulled out and wiped his cock on my shorts.

"You are mine now, I am going to need you to suck my cock everyday" he told me. His hand smacked my ass. I pulled my shorts on there was a large stain of shit, lube and cum on them. As well as the cum leaking out of my ass. Dried cum in my hair and on my shirt. He drove me back home. I snuck back into my house hoping no one would see me. I showered cum kept flowing from my ass. I saw Kelly's razor in the shower. I didn't think I just grabbed it and shaved my pubic hair off. I shaved my ass as well. When I finished I wanted to put panties back on. But Kelly was home. I found myself in the laundry room. My mother's panties hanging on a rack to dry. I noticed a black pair lace sexy. These where mom's? I thought about her wearing them for dad. Their vacation away, did mom suck dad's cock. Did she take it in the ass? I was disturbed thinking about my parents this way. I shoved the sexy panties into my pocket. I was rock hard as I returned to my room. I put on my mother's panties. Then put my shorts back on. I resisted playing with myself. The next morning Mark called again. I rushed outside and jumped in his car. My hands down his shorts before he even turned the corner. He drove me back to his house. I stripped down to mom's sexy panties before he even made it into his room. I was on my knees sucking his cock. Befuore he said a word. I tried very hard to suck more of his cock, I fondled and licked his balls. Before he came. Mark pulled my hair making me stand and bent me over his bed. He again fucked my ass. With a fury. He suddenly pulled out and shoved his cock back in my mputh. I could taste my ass and the flavored lube he had used. As he pumped his seed into my mouth.

"Such a dirty fucking whore" Mark laughed at me. He didn't let me get dressed instead had me just wear my mother's panties. He sits and watches TV. He hints that I should clean up. Make myself useful. So I clean up his house. Wondering when his parents or brother are expected home. As I finish up he pulls me onto his lap.

"You love cock don't you?" He asked. I nodded. Wanting him to fuck me again.

"I invited Gerry over" he told me. I started to panic but he held me on hos lap. "It's okay you can suck his cock too" he told me. I was nervous trying to get away. When there was a knock on the front door then it opened and in walked our friend Gerry, he was actually a year behind us in school. I couldn't look up.

"Paul go show Gerry how much you love cock" he told me. Letting me get up. Gerry sat down on the couch and spread his legs. Without looking him in the eye I crawled between his legs and ran my hands over his crotch. He let me pull his shorts and boxes off. His cock throbbing it was shorter then Mark's but just as thick. I took it in ,y mouth and was soon sucking it down gagging myself. Until he grabbed my hair and held me as he fucked my face then pumped his load down my throat. Gerry then just got up and left. Only then did Mark drive me home.

"You like being my whore?" Mark asked. I couldn't look at him just nodded. "Good you are going to service alot of my friends" he told me. His hand reached over and squeezed my hard dick. I came right then pumping my cum into my mother panties.

Wednesday and Thursday where just him and me once again in the woods then at my house when everyone was out. Friday he had me suck two other guys I kinda knew. But again they where younger seniors in high school I thought. One of them named Ian took a turn fucking my ass. But he did use a condom.

"My little faggot whore, never even kissed a woman have you?" Mark teased after they left and he had me ride his cock. I told him how Jenny had played with my dick.

"Never again, you will never let a woman touch you like that ever" Mark told me. Mark left me alone for the next three weeks, I did notice him pick up Kelly several times. Again I was jealous. But I Aldo found myself going thru not only Kelly's room but my mother's as well, I tried more things. Trying bras,stockings, pantyhose, even a few dresses on. In one of my sessions I even shaved the rest of my body hair off. I found my sister's vibrator and shoved in my ass, bit in my mother's things I found, several dildos, plugs, even furry handcuffs. I tried them all. Before Mark suddenly called me again. I invited him over I got all dressed up in none of Kelly's short dresses.

Mark arrived with Zack he had me suck Zack cock first. I had never seen a black cock never less and uncircumcised one till I sucked Zack. They laughed how Kelly was also their whore just not when she was on her period. Then they used me. Kelly also didn't let them do anal. But I fucked and sucked 7 different guys, that used both me and Kelly for thier pleasure. Over the next couple months Kelly learned about me. She also helped me dress up, and buy my own underwear. Mark bought me a chastity cage, because the guys didn't like my little dick getting hard for them. He told me he would keep mype locked during just my week. But he rarely unlocked me.

By the end of the summer it was impossible to hide that u was a sissy from anyone, my parents at first where upset but soon excepted me. Thinking I was dating Mark. They liked Mark. Jenny helped me get my nails done for the first time.

Everyone knows I am a little gay whore. Except my parents who believe I am going to marry Mark. Who spends more time selling my sister then fucking me.

[selfindulgenceisthekey]

A/N: I haven’t finished the initial meeting, but this came to me randomly and I did this entire one shot on my phone, in one sitting. So here you are, I suppose! :)

Despite how attached to your hip Eimi was, you two found yourselves enjoying different rooms and different people. You found comfort in the galley, being able to sit and relax while still seeing outside. Eimi, to no surprise, spent all the time she could in the aquarium, face pressed to the giant tank to watch the fish swim around.

She also appeared to enjoy Chopper and Usopp the most, listening so attentively whenever Usopp told her stories, and she and Chopper were almost like two peas in a pod as time went on. Luffy appeared to be entering her realm of favorite people, as you’ve seen her joining them playing on the lawn, her silent laughter warming your heart.

Admittedly, you were enjoying your time around Robin, Zoro, and Sanji. There was something about Robin, her smile, her eyes, that made you feel fuzzy. Something about the soft look you’ve witnessed whenever she was helping catch you up on your missed education reminded you of your mother from oh so long ago. Zoro was quieter, and whenever you felt overwhelmed he always seemed to know. Sitting with him in silence was a comfort. Sanji had worked along side of you to help get yours and Eimi’s strength up, learning your likes and dislikes. You enjoyed being in the kitchen with him, tasting different foods to learn more about your palette.

All in all, these few months had done numbers for both of you. Sometimes you still found yourself worrying whenever you fell asleep, terrified you’d wake up back in your old room, the soft pink walls of your tomb that haunt you.

The scent of dinner broke you free from those thoughts, and you were back in the present. The sun was lower, orange hues dancing on the wood of the ship. Luffy, Eimi, and Chopper were playing tag, and you had a feeling the two were running slower so Eimi could keep up. Her face was bright, glee in her eyes.

When she saw you looking, she sent you a toothy grin, changing course to rush to where you were seated.

Nami had insisted you, her, and Robin sit in the sun while it had been up. Chopper had echoed how the sun would help boost your vitamins, and Sanji had put an iced cold drink in your hands. It was probably the most relaxed you’d ever been.

Eimi crashed into you, burying her face into your chest, panting.

“You having fun?”

She nodded, pulling back to sign at you, her little hands moving quickly.

They’re slow, I kept winning!

“That’s my girl,” You ruffled her hair, grimacing at the sweat that you felt, “We’re taking a bath after dinner.”

She scrunched her face up, shaking her head at you. I don’t want to.

“And I don’t want you to smell stinky,” You poked her nose.

Before she could respond with more than a pout, there was a shout that dinner was ready. With your pushing, you got Eimi and Luffy to wash their hands before entering the galley.

“You are truly a miracle worker my dear,” Sanji gushed at you, and you felt it was far more praise than needed for just getting someone to wash their hands.

You thanked him though, and Luffy pouted at the two of you, his sulk pausing as he caught sight of the meal being moved to the table.

It was a baked fish of some sorts— large and smelling absolutely amazing. Usopp had tried teaching you the different types of fish kept on board, but after meeting your blank gaze called it a day.

Sea creatures were more Eimi’s strong suit.

Speaking of the young girl, you watched as her happy look faded as she stared at the fish being placed on the table. She’d eaten fish before, the only foods you found she hated were brussel sprouts, bananas, and beets. She’d appeared to have enjoyed everything else.

Everyone was moving to their seats, and you moved closer to Eimi, “Are you okay?”

She looked up from the fish to you, then back to the fish. Slowly, a few others noticed her upset demeanor. Robin and Franky had quieted their conversation to look over, and Usopp seemed to have taken note of his little friends sad face.

The next thing you knew she was up and out of her seat, racing out of the galley. She moved so fast if you hadn’t known her for so long you would have suspected she’d eaten some sort of devil fruit.

There was a pause after that. Sanji had stopped scolding Luffy for trying to sneak food off the plates before everyone was seated, Zoro had opened his eye, Nami and Brooke’s discussion had stopped. Chopper looked worried, and Jinbei echoed that sentiment.

You didn’t stop before you were after her, worry and concern in your chest. Why was she so upset? What happened? She was having a good day, she’d been having fun out on the lawn.

You watched her turn into the aquarium, and rushed after her. A second later you heard the footsteps of the crew, but paid them no mind. Eimi was there, pressing her hands against the tank, eyes scanning the water frantically.

“Eimi,” You called out to her, moving closer, “Why did you run off?”

Blue!

“W-What?”

She stared at you, eyes filling with tears and soon she was silently sobbing. You panicked, rushing forward to grab her, holding her to your chest.

“Hey, hey— what’s the matter?”

She just kept signing the word “blue”, tears wetting your shirt.

“Is she okay?” Luffy was crouched by the two of you, his hat pushed back to peer at you both.

“I- I don’t know,” You felt overwhelmed at her tears, at your inability to understand why she was freaking out.

“What’s she keep saying?”

“Blue?”

Robin moved closer next, crouching to be by Luffy, one of her hands gently brushing through Eimi’s hair.

“Eimi, talk to us, what’s the matter?”

She pulled back from your chest, her tear stained face breaking your heart. She pointed to the fish tank, signed Blue and Gone.

“Blue gone?”

She nodded, a new wave of tears falling. You glanced at the tank, before you felt the thought click into place.

“Eimi… have you been naming the fish?”

She nodded again, pressing her face back against your chest, bringing her hands up to wipe at her eyes. You had to stop what felt like a startled laugh from spilling out.

“Was… was Blue made into dinner?”

You heard a few murmurs behind you, it sounded like the crew was slowly realizing why Eimi was freaking out.

“Oh honey,” You stroked her hair, feeling a mixture of relief, amusement, and sorrow.

She wasn’t hurt, that was good. But she was now getting attached to the fish that were caught to be eaten. And was, in a way, experiencing the first death of a pet. In sorts.

“I’m sorry Eimi,” The crew was closer, Sanji stepping to stand behind where Luffy was still crouched, “I didn’t know that the fis— that Blue was your friend.”

She just sniffled, but her tears appeared to be slowing down. Luffy shifted, waiting for her to look up before he caught her eye.

“It’s okay to be sad about Blue, Sanji didn’t know he was your friend.”

She hiccuped, but appeared to be listening, golden eyes locked onto his.

“If you think about it— all the fish in here are apart of the crew! We all have a job here, and their job is to be our food!”

“You rubber idiot,” Nami hissed at him, trying to keep her voice quiet, looking seconds away from smacking him in the head.

The others looked torn at what he was saying, and admittedly, you weren’t even sure how you felt about his explication. He continued, not deterred.

“Blue wanted to make sure you had lots of yummy food that will help you grow big and strong! And since Blue was so big and strong, he wanted to pass that to you, and that’s why he made sure Sanji chose him for dinner.”

You were looking at the captain, sure your face was some odd mixture of awe and horror as he spoke. But in some way, it was working. Eimi’s tears were slowing down, and she pulled back on your lap, hands moving. He watched her, before his eyes flickered to you.

I’ll be big and strong?

“Uh— she asked if she’ll be big and strong.”

He grinned, his usual chuckle echoing through the room, “The strongest! Just like Blue wanted you to be!”

She seemed to absorb his words, her cheeks still damp, but a determined look on her face now. She wiped at her face, and you didn’t have to heart to try and get her to go wash up again.

I’ll eat dinner, and be big and strong!

You repeated her words, and Luffy’s grin grew. He stood up, stretching his arms to grab Eimi from you, tossing her in the air before catching her.

“That’s the spirit! Come on— let’s get there first!”

He is an off with her in his arms before anyone could protest, shouting some challenge as he did so. Usopp, Chopper, and Franky raced after him, clearly egged on by this. You stood up, brushing whatever dirt may have tracked on you off.

“That was… interesting.” Nami spoke, an unsure smile on her face.

You chuckled, not bothering to hide your laughter, “I think this is the closest she’s ever been to having a pet.”

“Oh my,” Robin covered her mouth, a small smile there, “I do hope we don’t have a repeat next time our cook prepares fish for dinner. Of course we could forgo any meals with fish, but without such an easy source of protein I fear we may all end up looking like Brooke.”

“I wouldn’t allow it to get that far!” Sanji defended, clearly distressed at the idea of his crew not finding some other source of protein.

“I doubt it’ll come to that,” You hoped that soothed his worry, “I’m more surprised that Luffy’s words got through to her.”

“Our captain sure is a surprising man,” Robin winked at you with that, leaving as your amused smiled turned into a small look of confusion at her reaction.

“What’s so special about a dumb fish?” Zoro’s question was clearly more to be under his breath as he left, unfortunately for him, Sanji had heard, a kicked aimed towards the back of his knee.

“That fish was special to Eimi, mosshead!”

“I know that! I’m just asking why?”

The two began bickering as you all filed back to the galley. Nami just sighed, sending you an exasperated look.

“They’re like an old married couple,” You giggled at her words, grateful neither of them heard her.

Back in the galley, you were surprised to see that Eimi wasn’t in her usual spot next to you. Instead she was in Luffy’s lap, her plate already made, and everyone was clearly waiting for the rest of you. Luffy looked like he was fighting off straight up drooling. You were grateful, you already had to get her to wash off the sweat on her body, you didn’t wish to add his drool to the list.

The two of you made eye contact over Eimi’s head, and his look of hunger vanished, sending you a bright smile. You smiled back, unable to help yourself as you took your seat, everyone piling food on their plates before digging in.

You watched Eimi, whatever hesitation she may have had gone as she ate. Several times she flexed her arms, and Luffy would respond brightly, commenting he could already see her muscles growing.

[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 32

Words: 2.8k

Sorry it took me ages to post, I wanted to add to this chapter but I didn’t like how it came out so I had to edit it 🖤

Y/N makes an interesting discovery…

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

Sleep's wrapped around you like a warm comforting blanket but you can already feel it slipping from your grasp. You chase after it, burying your face in the pillow, reaching for the sheets to pull them tighter around your frame. Your crappy little single bed's never felt so comfortable... or so roomy and spacious come to think of it. You elongate your limbs as you roll over, the soft feel of the brushed cotton sheets smooth against your skin.

That's when it hits you. You're not in your own bed at all. You're in Van's.

Your eyes snap open quickly, panic gripping you as you take in the rumpled sheets and empty space next to you and the bright morning sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains. You weren't actually planning on falling into a deep sleep last night when you were snuggled up in Van's arms. You'd assumed at the time that he was inviting you for a quick post-shag cuddle before he sent you on your way. You certainly weren't expecting to stay the whole night. You're terrified at the thought of Kathleen arriving home unexpectedly early.

You glance around, noting your shoes and clothes in a neat pile on the floor by the bedside and you can't make up your mind whether Van's just being helpful or if you've out-stayed your welcome and it's a blatant message for you.

Thanks for last night... now get dressed and fuck off... Nice…

You're full of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He'd carried you to bed last night like you were something precious and taken such tender care of you. Surely he wouldn't be so callous and cruel as to send you on your way without even saying goodbye this morning?

And where the fuck is he anyway?

Your stomach's tying itself in knots at the sickening thought of being discarded like a used up worthless piece of rubbish and your heart lurches with the realisation of how much that notion hurts. This wasn't part of the plan. It was only ever supposed to be a bit of fun, a risky sexual adventure to satiate your promiscuous side and explore new kinks. You weren't supposed to feel like this.

You hoist yourself upwards with the intention of getting out of bed, wincing as every muscle and fibre in your lower body protests at your sudden movement. You were joking last night but this morning you really do feel like you've been hit by a truck. Severely. It's a good ache though. The best kind of ache there is.

After yesterday's events you should be glowing with smug satisfaction whilst you re-live your wild encounter, not crippled by uncertainty whilst jealousy weaves it's way around your rib cage like thorny brambles clutching at your heart. Why did you have to go and spoil things by catching feelings for the one man who could never give you any more? You need to pull yourself together and fast, snap out of this bitter mood and come back down to reality.

You've been so preoccupied with your thoughts that your ears only just tune into the sound of running water, the pitter patter noise of a shower emanating from the adjoining en-suite bathroom.

The thought of Van in there right now, naked and slippery under the spray makes you feel some kind of way but you're hesitant to tiptoe in there and surprise him. This brand new landscape of uncharted territory you're entering into in your relationship with Van has robbed you of your usual brazen confidence. It doesn't help that you're worrying that you must look a complete mess with your sleep-tousled hair and not a stitch of make-up on. The baggy over-sized band tee that you'd slipped into last night doesn't appear as cute and alluring in the unforgiving morning light. You're starting to fret, clutching the covers up tight around your body when the bathroom door swings open and Van strides out wearing nothing but a fluffy white bath-towel and a sexy little smirk that practically has you melting into a puddle on the bed-sheets.

"Ahh... sleeping beauty arises at last," he grins, coming to a stop right in front of you. "Didn't think you were gonna wake up. Thought maybe I'd gone and worn you out for good last night."

"Never. I can't be satisfied remember? That's what you said." You look up at him, a sweet smile laced with suggestion before you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for his response. Even if you can't have all of Van you'll settle for the parts that he's willing to give.

That's all you really want after all, you tell yourself.

He's a fucking vision half-naked like this, all damp and dewy and flushed from the heat of the shower, little beads of water glistening on his pale skin like jewels, his damp hair pushed back. You let your gaze slip lower, taking in the smattering of dark chest hair that trails down his lean body, further down to his slender waist and the jut of his hips hidden temptingly beneath the towel. You've only been awake for all of five minutes and your mind's already dwelling in the gutter, your body craving him in the most obscene way. You can't control yourself around him, the craving so addicting. You're a junkie with a habit that you just can't kick.

"That pretty little mouth of yours is gonna get you in big trouble if you're not careful young lady," he warns, his hand moving to lightly grip your jaw as he swipes his thumb against your lip to free it.

"That's kind of what I was hoping," you reply, giving him your widest, most innocent doll-eyes. You quickly rise up on to your knees and reach for his hips, gently tugging on the towel but to your surprise he stops you, a hand placed over yours.

"Fuck," he mutters with frustration, his smile fading fast. "We can't do this, not now. Not this morning. There's... uhh... things I need to do. I have an early meeting at work for one..."

You feel like you've just had a bucket of cold water tipped over you.

A likely story...

So he's not even going to be upfront with you. The least he could do is be honest with you and tell you straight. You're a big girl, you don't need to be treated with kid gloves. You snatch your hand away from his like his touch scalds you.

"You don't have to make excuses, I know how this works. I'll just get my stuff and see myself out. I won't make a fuss or out-stay my welcome. I won't make things awkward for you."

You move to scoot yourself forward on the bed but Van stops you, gripping your shoulders, resisting when you try to shrug him off.

"Hey, where ya going? I'm not kicking you out, that's not what I meant at all. I can drive you back to campus when I'm dressed. I do have an early meeting but there's no immediate rush."

When you keep your eyes cast downwards he cups your chin, tilting it up, more of that same fondness you glimpsed last night radiating off of him. "Last night was incredible... you're incredible. I meant every word that I said. I'd love to see more of you, spend more time with you, get to know you better... the real you… not just these games we’ve been playing.”

His words are sweet but they don't fill you with hope, it's the opposite. You've had enough disappointing experiences with the male species to know exactly how they operate. You're positive he's only telling you what he thinks you want to hear, sugaring the pill that he thinks you'll struggle to swallow. You need to get in there first, put up your defences before he strikes the inevitable blow that's sure to be coming.

"You don't have to say that to try and make me feel better, I know this is just sex and I'm okay with that." You force a smile, hoping it looks genuine, watching him carefully as you speak again. "In fact I'm more than okay with it. I'm really not looking for anything more than that anyway."

"You're not?" He sounds surprised, and you'd even go so far as to say disappointed if you didn't know any better. You're not falling into that trap again though, you've been caught in that one way too many times before. It's so much better this way.

Nevertheless you're still surprised to see a deep furrow creasing his brow. His hand falls away from your chin and he runs it through his hair, pushing the damp strands back that have fallen over his face. You falter for a second, but quickly recover.

"God no, of course not, not right now. And if I were it wouldn't work anyway would it? Even if you weren't engaged..." you pause. Did he wince slightly at the word? "... you're my Professor, I'm your student. It's not like we could have a normal relationship is it? You said so yourself before. It's too risky, you could lose your job."

He just looks at you for a moment, his expression hard to read as he reaches out to you once again to push a lock of your unruly hair behind your ear, smoothing it down so carefully, so gently, so unlike him.

"Of course, of course... you're totally right," he nods, slowly like he's getting used to the idea himself. "We've got a good thing going here, haven't we? We certainly don't wanna complicate it. Hell... things are complicated enough..."

He mutters the last line under his breath and you wonder if it was an errant thought that just slipped out, meant more for himself.

"I think you should wear the blue shirt today," you say quickly in a keen attempt to lighten the tone, nodding towards his wardrobe. "I always thought you looked particularly sexy in that one!"

The smile reaches his eyes now, and you mirror it as he steps back, maintaining it until he turns, stepping towards the wardrobe. You watch him longingly as he unabashedly drops the towel, grabbing a pair of boxers and stepping into them. He smirks when he catches your eye in the wardrobe mirror as he straightens up and you giggle, slipping down off the bed and announcing that you're going to use the bathroom to freshen up.

You can finally breathe as you finish up and wash your hands, taking in your dishevelled appearance in the mirror over the sink. You comb your fingers through your hair and splash some cold water on your face. You've still got that freshly fucked look about you but there's something else there that displeases you, an air of resigned sadness that dulls your sparkle.

Pull yourself together Y/N, you tell your reflection silently. You can't risk falling for him. It's so much better this way.

And even if it's not you don't have a choice. What did you really expect when you started your torrid affair? Hearts and flowers and being romanced and wooed when you'd propositioned your practically married Professor in such a brash and overtly sexual way?

You need to start buying into what you've just been selling to Van. This is simply sex, nothing more. Hot, passionate, thrilling, adventurous intense sex. The sort that leaves you breathless and glowing and so alive, your body his to use and fuck and pound and devastate in every conceivable way. God, just the thought of it sparks a shock of warmth between your thighs.

You smile to yourself as you turn around and lift up the shirt to see the the pretty purple bruises blooming like violet flowers on your bum and inner thighs. Physical memories of your sordid fuck that you proudly bear. You almost wish that they were somewhere more visible so you could show them off.

Look what he did to me.

Parade them around to show the world that you were his and his alone. Except you're not...

For fuck's sake Y/N, you chastise yourself exasperatedly. Get over it will you?

"I'll have to grab breakfast on the go today but I'm making tea. D'ya want one?"

His voice outside makes you start and you jolt lightly in surprise, swiftly dropping the shirt back to cover your thighs even though he can't see you admiring yourself on the other side of the door.

"Err... yes... yes please. I'll be out in a second," you call out, checking the mirror once more before you pull open the door, hovering in the doorway.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs are heavy at first but recede gradually until they fade away, replaced by some muted clatter from somewhere downstairs. It sounds far away and you can hardly believe that he's left you alone. Excited curiosity prickles your nerves as you step back into the bathroom, quickly glancing around to search more thoroughly for signs of Kathleen. The toiletries and cologne on the unit by the bath all look manly and a solitary toothbrush sits in a glass on the sink. Shaving products litter the shelf just above. You frown. It's like she's not been here at all. There's no way a pretty little feminine thing like her wouldn't leave an obvious trace, you're sure of it.

You dart back into the bedroom, your bare feet silent on the plush carpet, crossing quickly to the wardrobe and pulling open the door, rifling through the hangers to confirm exactly what you'd thought at first glance. All the clothing is Van's.

Rather than your brief search satisfying your intrigue it only bolsters your curiosity. Surely they must live together if they're engaged? Or maybe they did live together and she moved out? What if they've gone and broken up? You need to know more.

You can't help but cast your mind back to seeing Kathleen down by the river a few days ago, the awkwardness with which she'd probed you about Van's mood that morning. The fact that he'd stayed out all night and not gone home after he feared you'd been caught together.

You can't help but think how much more of the large house you've not seen, what secrets from his personal life and relationship you could uncover if you had access to it. A million and one possibilities are clamouring inside your head, all wanting to be heard and you can't quiet them.

It's wrong on so many levels but when did you ever take the morally right path? You're certainly not traversing it as you tiptoe stealthily out of the bedroom and down the corridor like a trespasser, slipping inside the next room that branches off from the hall. It's another bedroom but as soon as you enter you know it holds no answers. It's simply but tastefully furnished, the decor light and airy but it looks too sparse to be well lived in... a guest bedroom perhaps. You duck out of the room and pause, pressing your back to the wall to steady your quick nervy breaths and listen. The distant rumbling sound of a kettle close to boiling point travels up the stair-case. That should buy you a few more moments of exploration time but you'll need to be quick.

The next door along the hall is closed and you press your ear to the door before you open it, not really expecting to hear anything but filled with caution all the same. You can only imagine what Van's angry reaction would be to you snooping around his house. He was livid enough when you'd joined up to Kathleen's class. The temptation is too strong though so you carefully push open the door and peer inside.

It doesn't take a genius to work out that this space is usually occupied by Kathleen, there's an array of cosmetics and beauty products on the vanity table, a pair of heels sitting on the floor near the wardrobe that's closed but you don't have to take a look inside for further confirmation. There's items of her clothing strewn all over the bed, pretty dresses and skirts and cami tops, wisps of silky lingerie. It looks like someone was sorting through clothing, choosing and discarding outfits, selecting things to wear... or maybe packing for a trip.

To say that you're stunned and intrigued by the revelation that Van and his fiancée seem to have separate bedrooms is an understatement. Maybe their outwardly perfect relationship isn't so perfect after all.

You step back quickly, being careful to quietly shut the door and then you start to make your way down the stairs.

[dexter-and-hospes-story]

Beginning

(May 25th 2:37 pm)

(an orange cat sits on a window sill sun bathing. Then all of a sudden. A small mouse walked from out of the wall the cat almost immediately noticing the mouse gets in a position to pounce on the small rodent. after a couple of seconds, the cat leaps at the mouse. the mouse noticing, narrowly escapes and began to run the cat following suit. After 5 minutes of the cat trying to catch the mouse, the mouse disappears into the wall through a small hole. The cat try’s to scratch at the wall with hopes to get the mouse out but to no avail. Then out of boredom the cat turns around and jumps onto the bar next to it. the cat began to walk across the bar coming to a halt after a random stranger in a red jacket and made of smoke started to pet it.)

Aww you’re adorable

(the cat began to purr and laid down on the bar next to the stranger. a drunkard next to him began to laugh hysterically he didn’t know why but it was annoying to say the least. The man was that of a lizard man)

[huh that’s interesting, I know I hop dimensions but I’m surprised I haven’t seen a lizard man… I have seen unicorns, very interesting.. I wander what unicorn meat tastes like. Does it taste like cotton candy. Or does it tastes like horse meat but a little sweeter? Is it sweet at all? What does regular horse meat taste like?]

Drunkard: hey you got a staring problem kid?

huh? What? (honestly being lost in thought made him forget he was even looking at the drunkard to begin with)

(a second man sitting at one of the tables behind him stands up and walks towards the man pulling a gun out and taking it to his head)

Drunkards friend: we got problem here?

(He turned to the man) ya know I wouldn’t really do that if I were you

(before the drunkards friend could say anything, his head was blown off splattering purplish blood and pieces of brain and skull fragments across the bar and onto the stranger only leaving his bottom jaw in tact the body fell onto the bar and slowly slid down painting the side of the bar in purple blood. This scared the cat away to the other side of the room and out the door)

Aw cmon hospes you got blood and brains all over me and scared my friend (he frowned and began to wipe the blood and guts off of himself)

(the man was a tall man about 6feet tall wearing a cowboy hat and a lavender button up shirt. He had two double barrel shotgun on his waist, he proceeded to put the one he was holding away and sit down next to the stranger.)

and you gotta be more careful who you pick a a fight with Dexter

(Dexters brow furrowed at this.) I wasn’t picking a fight.

what ever (he looked at the terrified bartender) hey there partner mind pourin me some whisky please

(the bartender nodded their head grabbed a glass and started to pour his drink)

thank ya kindly sir (he then tipped his hat to the terrified bartender)

(the bartender shacking, looking like he’s about to piss himself gives a very silent but still audible “no problem” before waking to the other side of the bar)

(Dexter gave the bartender a soft apologetic look and mouthed the word “sorry” before turning back to the stranger) you know we could’ve handled that without killing him

Yeah well he was threatening your life (he proceeded to drink the whole glass of whiskey) we should leave before someone else attempts to kill us l as well (he mumbled something under his breath though it wasn’t all that audible)

(Dexter gave a loud sigh) I guess so

(they both got up out of their seats but before they could leave the drunkard from before who was to stunned to speak at first walked up to them)

Drunkard: HEY HOW COULD YOU, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

he was picking a fight and threatening my life which (he points to hospes) unless you want to lose yours I’d suggest to back off thanks

(they then walked out of the door leaving the man quivering and scared)

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Many thanks to @buckets-and-trees for putting this one on my dash.

Something @witchywithwhiskey is SO well versed at is environment building? I don't feel like that's the correct phrase, but I also can't come up with the right one lol. I'm not as good with words as they are :P But the entire opening of this story is so full of vibrant, rich sensory detail that I saw the whole thing play out like the opening credits of one of my beloved Hallmark / Netflix romance movies. Gritty sandy sidewalks, the sound of waves being a soundtrack to the walk, feeling her bathing suit digging into her skin and her thighs chafing (as a fat gal, I know that one well) under her dress. It was all just SO VIVID because the descriptions are so well written and I love being immediately immersed in Brambleberry Cove (how cute is that for a seaside small town name too, btw).

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

When I tell y'all I screamed into my pumpkin pillow at these lines because ... I struggle so much with describing emotion, no doubt because I am not good at feeling or processing it myself, right? LOL but this description of feeling safe and comfortable and the revelation that THIS is what coming home feels like...refer back to the GIF cuz omgggggggggggggggggg. So good.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

All of the physical description of Steve is TOP TIER but I love this moment being observed because it's one of those times where I feel like canon Steve comes through in someone's characterization of him. Steve being inherently good at noticing and respecting how shy or nervous people are - especially kids - and knowing how to ease that? Yes. All the yes. That is so Steve Rogers.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

This makes me giggle because I, too, would be TERRIFIED of talking to THE Steve Rogers - let alone a Steve Rogers I had grown up with - but my nosy ass would want to know EVERYTHINGGGGG I'd missed with him lol

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

THE WAY I WOULD POOF INTO THANOS DUST IF THAT VOICE CALLED ME BY THAT NICKNAME, GOOD LORDT.

Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

It's crazy to me lol cuz I am someone who will deny deny deny how I feel to my own detriment. But I'm reading about this person who actually ALREADY KNOWS HOW SHE FEELS from every observation she's had about Steve since she entered Seaside Scoops ... but I guess only subconsciously? But it's so funny to see the juxtaposition of her thoughts and feelings but then her logic coming in and trying to be like, I don't know why I am feeling these feelings. YES YOU DO, MISS, YES YOU DO.

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile.

Having been in this position myself (and going through it again now in Q4 of 2024), I so badly want to hug her because she feels as though she has to hide how she's really doing and really feeling. But oh man, do I get it.

Steve is also still drawing in this 'Verse cuz the Seaside Scoops mascot is a shark Steve drew FOR HER back when she knew him originally and I THINK THAT IS SO PRECIOUS! I kind of want to commission someone to actually draw it now, hmmmmmmm.

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

I want to die at how cute he is cuz this Steve still can't take a compliment, still has a memory like a steel trap, and a habit of making people feel special with his thoughtfulness. There's intimacy in someone knowing your order of anything, really ... ice cream, coffee, meal at the corner diner. And it's noticing deets that REALLY resonates with me and makes me melt as a reader *screams into my pumpkin pillow again*

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

*sing song voice* hate thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis lol I don't know why on earth she didn't keep up her promise to stay in touch and stay friends with Steve but it makes me want to step on her stubbed toe >:P I get that "life happens," but as someone who felt like the one always following up with friends when they went off to live another life, I just ... he deserved better.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

It's the continued reference to elements that remind me of the town and the summertime to describe him that I am so enjoying.

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say?  But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye.  Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well.

The longing? Is killing me. It's delicious but she KEEPS TALKING HERSELF OUT OF WHAT'S GOING ON which makes me want to again, stomp on her stubbed toe lol

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

"There was no other reason."

Me:

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

EW, GURL, EW. Thank you, Bucky, for saving her from that and calling Steve.

The fact Steve is driving her home in his truck and there's reference to the salty sea air as well as the smell of the leathery interior of his truck is once again SO GOOD. I was immediately inside that truck, staring at Steve's profile myself, feeling what I also imagine is a not-so-smooth ride cuz I'm imagining an older truck lol Again, the sensory detail work is top notch.

She is BLITZED and saying all her inside thoughts out loud which at first makes Steve laugh but then when she talks about how he looks different but the same cuz his eyes are the same and the bump in his nose is still there and his lips are soft and full ... oof! The mood SHIFTS. Cuz he's like, yeah nobody else even saw those things BUTTERCUP *swoon* and in her drunkenness, she's all indignant and says well then they never really saw YOU, Steve and I am SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG cuz OMG GURL JUST SAY YOU LOVE HIM ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But Steve's response made me have to jump up out of my bed and take a lap around the couch cuz

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

THIS. IS. A. ROMANCE. MOVIE! I'm TELLING you! It has all the correct beats!

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

All of this makes me think, ok we are about to get INTO it but everything takes a TURN. Cuz we find out they already had sex once. I guess it was both their first times and Steve, bless his heart, finished in 3 seconds. Because of that, he asked Bucky if it counted cuz he wasn't sure, and homegirl is PISSED at this revelation for some reason. It's a WILD turn.

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

The way I legit sat here clutching my pillow like ... not knowing what to do for a good 30 seconds after reading this. Cuz of course she has to be DRUNK to reveal exactly how she feels about him, right? But that she is so VEHEMENTLY ANGERED by Steve inadvertently almost taking away "credit" or whatever? It's insane! Like, what more do we need to know she is IN LOVE WITH HIM?!?!

But crazily, we don't get into THAT conversation, they continue arguing about their first time lol! He insists she deserved better, she reveals he went down on her and gave her 3 orgasms which ... way to go, sir lol

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again. “You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

The way I expected him to HIT THE DAMN BRAKES and them to go off a cliff at this point because THAT IS THE REACTION THIS CONFESSION DESERVES!

Instead, he tells her he thinks about her too so she undoes her seatbelt and almost makes him crash lol but he pulls over then REFUSES to give into the gorgeous woman literally BEGGING HIM FOR JUST THE TIP because ... Steve Rogers will not do that with someone who is drunk which is SO GEE DEE STEVE ROGERS it makes me wanna hug him and then kick him in the shins lol

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected.

Nothing like when a kink comes out of NOWHERE to slap me in the face. LORDT.

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch. When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.” 

Damn him for making nobility so hawt but also vocalizing how much he actually WOULD LIKE TO BE PHYSICAL WITH HER cuz straight up rejection could hurt if he didn't add that in.

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

That whole section is just deliciously written.

What follows and I will not quote because y'all NEED TO GO READ IT FOR YOURSELVES is SUCH a ride. Because Steve won't pursue anything physical but he tells her, he holds no qualms about her pursuing her own pleasure...while in his lap...WITH HIS HAND AROUND HER THROAT.

THENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN THEN THENNNNNNNNNNNNNNN he starts dirty talking and CHEESE AND RICE, Y'ALL! Better have your own pillow or sound absorbing something to use when reading this section cuz it is soooooooooooooooooooooooo

Cuz then SHE also starts voicing FILTHY thoughts and the give and take between the two is so incredibly fire. *fans self* I was literally sweating.

Eventually things wrap up and gentleman that Steve is, he takes her back to her rental and hangs out to ensure she gets in bed ok.

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”   For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession.  “Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

THIS IS A ROMANCE MOVIE, YOU GUYS, I'M TELLING YOUUUUUUU. The way it so vividly plays in my mind.

I know not to be that reader that demands more or anything like that, but in the A/N it was expressed that this was an idea that has been with the author for a while and they just don't know if they will ever get to flesh it out completely. But I feel like we have 2 really full acts here ALREADY so there only needs to be one more ... it's such a rich setting, Steve is such a fully developed character already, and their relationship and this being second chance romance (which I am SO obsessed with right now) ... it's just something I REALLY REALLY enjoyed. Beautifully done, and actually because the almost sex is as hot as it is, it's actually a movie that has to be done for PASSIONFLIX so we don't get fade to black lol

@witchywithwhiskey this is a masterpiece and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for writing and sharing. As someone trying to write my own second chance romance, I feel like a lot of this is a master lesson in how to do it WELL. And of course thanks again to Aspen for putting it on my dash to begin with. It's one I know I'm going to revisit often (and have a few times already).

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[pudimsuki]

Bakugou + pool + nsfw☺️

Pool fingering | Bakugou x reader

Hi, hope you like it ❤

Warnings: NSFW (18+ content), fingering, public place, jealousy, swearing cause it's our blasty boy, haha.

You knew you shouldn't test your luck with your hotheaded boyfriend. Of course you knew. But you did that? Well…

You’ve been teasing him all morning. Class 3-A went for a day off at the pool, planned by Kaminari and Mina, and you decided it would be a great idea to mess with your explosive lover.

First was the too-small bikini you decided to wear. Then you didn't pay much attention to him. Bakugou hates it when you don't pay attention to him. And to complete the package, you were spending way too much time with the other boys, even offering to put sunscreen on them.

Bakugou was fuming. You could tell even with your back turned to him. The way he threw daggers with his gaze at you wasn't the slightest bit subtle. The only reason he still hadn't done anything was his enormous pride, but to say jealousy wasn’t eating him alive would be a big fat lie.

He knew you were doing that on purpose. Oh, he fucking knew.

The way you bowed when talking to Kaminari, or the way you rubbed Kirishima's chest “oh so innocently” when you said he was getting stronger with his new training routine, being especially louder to make sure he would hear it.

He was getting tired of that little game you were playing. But it's when you went to that half and half bastard that he loses his shit.

“Todoroki-san, can you help me put on sunscreen? I can’t reach my lower back.”

The heterochromatic boy blinked at your question, surprised by the sudden request, but as soon as he held the bottle, Mina appeared at your side, whispering in your ear:

"Hope you know what you're doing, cause here comes the bomb."

Before you could react or respond, you felt your arm being gripped by a hand you knew all too well. Bakugou squeezed your arm, pulling you away from a stoic Todoroki who still held the filter in his hands.

“The fuck are you doing?” He growled in your ear.

You turned to face him, battering your eyelashes. “Nothing, Katsu.”

“Don’t play dumb now.” He said, red eyes burning yours. “You’re coming with me.”

You felt a shiver go up your spine, but chose to keep the facade.

“But Katsuki, I wanna swim.”

“I don’t care.”

You pout. “I wanna go to the pool.”

His jaw clenched at your behavior; you were walking on thin ice with him.

“And besides”, you proceed. “Everyone’s here, we can’t just leave now.”

He knit his brows, annoyed, but after a few seconds of deliberation, a mischievous smile came to his lips.

“You wanna go to the pool?”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, you knew where that smile came from. “Uh, I guess so.”

“Great, then we go to the pool. You've spent way too much time with these extras.” You blinked, surprised at how easy it was to convince him, but followed him as he led you to one of the corners of the bluish pool.

The cold water was a balm for the hot summer day, and you felt every pore in your body quickly getting used to the change in temperature.

"Hey man, are you going to play?" Kirishima yelled at Bakugou, raising a water polo ball.

"Nah, I'm fine. I’ll play the next round."

Kirishima just shrugged "All right."

"Are you sure you don't want to play?" You asked, knowing your boyfriend's competitive nature.

Bakugou just wrapped an arm around your waist, leaning against the wall of the reservoir, keeping some distance from the others who were already gathering to form teams for the game.

"I have other things in mind." He spoke close to your ear, his voice showing signs of his earlier irritation.

You grinned. "Aw, Katsu. Did you get jealous? That's alright, everyone knows I'm taken."

"Oh, they know. But I think you need a little reminder."

“Yeah? And what are you planning to…” You stop mid sentence, gasping. “Katsuki, what are you doing?” You inquired, feeling him run two fingers up and down your clothed sex.

“Playing with what belongs to me. Got a problem with that?”

He rubbed harder, making you squirm your legs.

“Katsuki, not here.”

“You’re not the one making the rules here, sweetheart.” He growled, holding you in place with his strong arm, your back glued to his chest. “I think you need a little punishment for being such a fucking brat.”

With that said, you felt his hand go inside your bikini panties and moaned at the direct contact. The movement of water making you extra sensitive.

You try to pull away from him, eyes wide at your classmates who are playing absentmindedly not far away.

"Don't you dare leave here. It'll be worse if you try." His voice was angry. Oh boy, you were in serious trouble. "Now this is what's going to happen. You're going to stand here like a good girl while I play with you and you're going to control your fucking voice. Your moans are for my ears only, got it?"

You just nodded quickly, holding his arm for support. You knew there was no escape the moment Bakugou put something in his head.

You stifled a moan as you felt him circling your clit slowly.

"Tell me, how funny it was to tease me, uh?"

Bakugou squeezed your little bundle of nerves between his fingers. Hard. You whimpered, shifting your legs. “Sorry Katsu.”

"Sorry Katsu." He mocks, mimicking the tone of your voice. "I should spank your ass so everyone could see my handprints through that tiny thing you call a bikini."

Any answer you could think of caught in your throat, replaced by a loud moan as Bakugou thrust two of his thick fingers at once into your tight hole.

"Didn't I tell you to control your voice?" He ranted, knuckles deep inside of you. "Or do you want everyone to listen to you, uh? Do you want them to see you purring like a little kitten with just my fingers?"

“N-no, I don’t.” You manage to babble, even with his thrusting starting.

He pulled his fingers out almost completely and thrust them back in tightly. You bite your lip, trying not to make any noise, but he could clearly hear your muffled cries.

“(Y/n)-chan!”

Your eyes widen when you hear Ochaco's voice. For a terrifying second, you think she's aware of your "lewd acts" in the water, but the giant smile she wears makes your worries slip away. In fact, from that little distance, everybody thought he’s just being weirdly affectionate and hugging you, even though he wasn't much of a PDA man. That is, at least for the time being.

You held your boyfriend's wrist, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he started to thrust with more vigor.

"Answer it." Bakugou ordered in your ear.

"Stop." You mumble, almost desperately.

"If you don't answer her, she'll move closer. You don't want her to see how tight you get around my fingers, do you?"

Your walls contracted involuntarily, causing Bakugou to giggle behind you.

"(Y/n)-chan?" She called again and you noticed with horror that she actually started to approach.

"Ochaco!" You said, too loud to sound normal. "H-hey."

She smiles at you, still oblivious to your boyfriend's steady hand turning you into mud. "Me and the girls are going to buy ice cream. Do you want to come?"

"Uh- I..." That could be an easy way out of the current situation. Bakugou couldn't say no in front of Uraraka, but a slight squeeze on your waist told you better not to test the waters with him. "I pass, s-sorry.”

"Oh okay." She said and you thought she was going to leave, but she frowned at you instead. "Are you okay?"

"Excellent!" Again, too loud. Bakugou chuckled softly. "I'm great."

"Oh, it's just... Your expression looks a little pained."

"Oh" you replied, self moan self surprise. "The... The water! The water is cold."

“Really? I think it’s…”

"Uraraka-san!" Mina yelled from afar. You almost closed your eyes in relief. "Let's go!"

"I’m going!" With that, she said goodbye quickly and left. You breathed, releasing the moan you had been holding back.

"Holy shit,” Bakugou laughed. “I don't know if round face is too slow or if you're just a good actress."

You, on the other hand, were too busy paying attention to the movement of his fingers to laugh.

He fastened his pace, making you close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder. You whimpered when you felt him hitting a spot that made you see stars. “Katsu, please.”

“What?” He asks above you. “You're gonna cum, princess?”

He could feel you were close, your walls tightening around the double digits. You started to feel a knot form in your stomach.

“Tell me who do you belong to.”

“You, Katsuki. I’m yours.” you cried, not really caring with anything but the feeling of his digits right now. You hoped that the loud laughter and shouts of your friends as they played covered your voice.

“Good girl.” He said, voice deep. You could feel his hard cock pressing your ass behind the fabric of both your bathing suits.

You didn’t last longer. Bakugou was quick to cover your mouth with his hand when you came. The noise you made would definitely have alerted someone closer. You closed your eyes and breathed in as he withdrew his fingers from inside you, your juices mixing with the water.

The boys called Bakugou to play the second round, but he declined by saying he wasn't in the mood. You blinked at him, still coming back from your high, wondering what he would do now, but he just kissed a spot behind your ear before whispering.

“We’re finishing this in the changing room.” He announced. “Guess It’s my turn to be pleased.”

Now, we love a jealous Bakugou, don't we?

Thank u for reading and for the support!

Angie ❤

[any comments will be answered with my main account: @angie-1306]

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[gojology]

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

   Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

    You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

    Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin. 

    You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately. 

    It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone. 

    “Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?” 

    You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

    Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes.     “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.” 

    He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

    “W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often.    “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

    The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it. 

    For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated. 

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

   The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

   But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:    

   Was he too out-of-date?    

   The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

     And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

     What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

     Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t. 

     So why did you like him? 

     Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth. 

     He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

     Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

      “Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

     “Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense. 

    “What has gotten into you?” you murmur. 

    “I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-” 

    “No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside.      Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that.       You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work. 

   Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours. 

    Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.” 

   This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that? 

   “Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.” 

   Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go. 

   But he never did. 

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hi! Have u done any pregnant Hanji and overprotective daddy Levi already?? Yep i think im craving for more domestic levihan family, im sorry 😭

Im a bit new here in the community, and when i read ur works, i fell in love with it already, thank you for existing!!! 💖💖💖

Hello anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed my other fics :3 Sorry for the very long wait for this one, I've been struggling to find the time/motivation to write lately, but I'm feeling a little better and I figured I'd get to work on some of my prompts. Starting here!!

It ended up a little less domestic and a touch more angsty than I had originally planned, but only for a moment--happy endings all round! 

Warning: this does start off with non-graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting, I hope that doesn't bother you!

Hange had been feeling unwell for days.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence—Hange tended to wake up feeling nauseous some days, most often when she'd neglected to eat a decent meal the evening before—but this was the fourth morning in a row now, that Hange found herself bent over the toilet bowl in the early hours of the morning, heaving up nothing but acid and empty air. 

She retched until her stomach ached. There was nothing left to bring up, but her gut still rolled unpleasantly and there was a telling tremor under her tongue that warned her it might be best to stay in the bathroom a little while longer. She settled heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

It didn't make any sense. For most of the day, Hange felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but that was only to be expected after spending half the night every night on the bathroom floor. Tonight, no doubt, would follow the uncomfortably familiar routine: Hange would dry-heave a little longer, until the queasiness abated enough for Levi to convince her to come back to bed, and then she would toss and turn, too warm beneath the bed clothes, until she could fall into a restless sleep. She'd wake up feeling a little groggy, a little bleary, unreasonably hungry, but after a coffee and some breakfast she would feel well again. Perfectly normal.

Like clockwork, Levi appeared in the doorway just as Hange had flopped herself back over the toilet. She felt his palm, cool and soft, press against the back of her neck. Hange gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, braced her elbows on the toilet bowl, letting out a groan of discomfort as her stomach twisted, threatened to revolt again. Levi's thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

Sure enough, she brought up nothing more, but she gagged plenty, and found herself gasping for breath by the time she leaned back against Levi, aching and exhausted. His lips pressed into her damp hair.

Levi was as silent as always. His touch was pleasant, his presence welcome. Hange needed the hand he offered to pull her to her feet, needed his reassuring grip at her hips as she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out. Her quaking knees felt unstable beneath her. 

He lay facing her after they got into bed. Hange was sprawled out atop the covers, shifting restlessly to find the coolest patches on the bed. Levi watched her for a moment, then said, "This isn't normal."

Hange only grumbled.

"You said you'd book an appointment with the doctor."

Hange grumbled again. Levi ticked his tongue and rolled to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Call tomorrow."

"If I didn't know better," Hange said sluggishly, "I'd say you were worried about me."

He scowled and rolled onto his other side, his back to her now.

"No, just sick of waking up at half four every morning to drag you back to bed."

Hange managed a small, wicked snicker, but shuffled across the space between them and pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck.

"Must be dreadful," she said. Her voice sounded raw, hoarse. She buried her nose into his hair and took a long, deep breath. Levi grunted, but reached back and pulled her arm loosely over his hip. He knotted their fingers together loosely.

"Call them, Hange."

Hange gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I will."

**

Hange prided herself on being a reasonably intelligent person. She had two degrees, was working towards her doctorate, and already had her name on a small handful of peer-reviewed research papers. She spoke multiple languages, read dissertations for fun, kept a (in Levi’s words) disgustingly realistic human skeleton in a box under the bed for study purposes, and had spent the better part of the last 26 years of her life studying human biology and physiology.  

How she had not predicted that she might be pregnant was almost unfathomable. 

She left the doctors office in a daze with an appointment card and several pamphlets in hand. She had been referred hastily to a midwife and the hospital would soon be sending out a date for an ultrasound—“As soon as possible,” the doctor had said, “since you’re not sure how far along you are.” 

The thing is, Hange had been on the same birth control pill for years now. Forgetful as she may be about many, many things (like eating, and bathing, and washing the dishes and taking out the garbage and and and), Hange was religious in taking that damn pill at the same time every single day. She had never missed it, not even once. Without a regular cycle, Hange had no way of predicting when they had conceived, and the doctor was eager to make sure no essential landmarks in her antenatal care were missed, if they could possibly help it.

The thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous now, in hindsight. The sickness was one thing, but now that she thought about it, there were a whole host of small oddities that Hange could easily attribute to pregnancy. Lethargy, and bloating, heartburn, and she had been peeing more than usual—Hange groaned, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She should have suspected, at least. Should have put the pieces together sooner. 

But, stupid and naive as it may be, she hadn’t thought it possible. Why worry about it, when Hange had taken consistent precautions to avoid it? 

She felt queasy the entire bus ride home. 

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of having children. One day, maybe. When she had finished her doctorate, got herself a steady, well-paid job. When she and Levi had moved out of their tiny, cramped apartment into somewhere bigger, somewhere more suited for a family. 

And god. Levi. 

This was something they’d never really talked about. For his part, Levi never seemed all that interested. He was good with Hange’s nieces and nephews, and Erwin’s son adored him, and he hadn’t showed any express dislike for children, but—well, tolerating other peoples little brats and raising your own are two very different things. 

What if Levi didn’t want the baby? What if he did? Hange wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted to do about the whole situation—what if she didn’t want it? What if, after some reflection, Hange decided now wasn’t a good time? Could they even afford a baby right now? Hange’s money was tied up in her education, while Levi was just making ends meet at the office. They got by well enough with just the two of them, but add in a baby? A whole other person, entirely dependant on them for support? Hange could barely feed and bathe herself, some days, never mind responsibly care for a child. 

By the time the bus pulled up near the house, Hange felt more distressed than ever. Levi, at least, was at work until the evening, so she had a few more hours to herself to mull everything over, but the entire situation made her stomach clench and churn unpleasantly with every new thought. 

The prospect of having a child was terrifying. The prospect of not having this child was nauseating. 

Levi had left the flat in pristine condition when he had left for work, but Hange barely had the energy to feel even a little guilty as she shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, leaving both strewn about the floor. She dumped her bag and made her way sluggishly through to the bedroom. 

Levi had made the bed. The sheet was stretched flat over the mattress, the pillows perfectly fluffed and set against the headboard. Hange’s nightshirt, one of Levi’s old, baggy shirts, too stretched and threadbare for him to wear, had been folded neatly and left on her side of the bed, her slippers lined up smartly with the bed frame. For some reason—hormones, she told herself—her eyes watered, and a lump swelled in her throat. She sniffled pitifully as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the shirt, clambering into the bed and tugging the sheets until the cocooned around her. 

Hange passed the rest of the day tossing and turning in bed. She tried to nap, but her mind was too restless, occupied with thoughts of the baby, with the concept of having to tell Levi when he came home. She could try to lie, say the doctors had done some blood work, that she was waiting on the results of some test or other, but Levi knew her too well. She could never lie to him, and her despondent state would give her away before she had the chance to say anything. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time she heard Levi’s keys in the door. She felt exhausted, head aching with all the thinking, considering, weighing up her options; with running over every possible outcome she could imagine. Keeping the baby, getting rid of the baby, Levi not wanting the baby, Levi leaving over the baby—every scenario she could imagine was worse than the last. There was only one idea that she had hardly dared entertain, in fear of disappointment if things didn’t work out. 

She heard Levi call out for her, but gave no answer. She listened, curled up in a ball on her side, as he shuffled around, no doubt picking up her coat and shoes from where she had abandoned them. And then he made his way towards the bedroom, steps soft on the plush carpet. The bedroom door creaked open. 

“Hange?” 

She made a small, warbled noise under the bedclothes. Levi came to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand found the curve of Hange’s hip. 

“How was it?” 

Hange made another noncommittal sound. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sheets, but didn’t dare show her face just yet. She wasn’t ready. She had never prepared for this conversation, never even imagined it before today. It was too soon. Not enough time to rehearse. 

Levi’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, before dropping to the mattress behind her. He leaned over her, and she felt his lips press warm and gentle to the point of her shoulder. A fresh wave of tears poured over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her face. 

She tried to be quiet, but something—the shake of her shoulder, perhaps, or the shudder of air as she tried to take a steadying breath in—gave way to her crying. Levi moved off the bed, but Hange felt his fingers prying lightly at the sheets, pulling them down until he could get a good look at her face. He was kneeling by the bed now, face level with her, and he looked at her with worry pinching deep creases between his brows. 

“Oi, what’d they say?” 

Hange bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her damp cheek on the pillow. If Levi was bothered by her using their bedding as a tissue, he didn’t show it. He simply looked at her, eyes darting over her face, searching. It occurred to Hange then how this must look to him. She had gone to the doctors due to unexplained, violent sickness, and now she is in bed, hours later, still crying about whatever news she had received. 

“I’m fine,” she said. Levi’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained pinched, frowning and concerned. Hange wanted to tell him quickly, simply, like ripping off a plaster, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth, but her throat constricted painfully. 

Eventually, she said, “my bag. There’s some stuff in my bag. Have a look.” 

Levi gave her a somewhat quizzical look, but stood, dropping a quick kiss to her temple before going to fetch the bag, and dipping his hand in to fish out the contents inside. 

Hange watched with her breath held and her stomach clenched as Levi pulled out the handful of leaflets and turned them over, looking at each one in turn. His eyes widened fractionally as comprehension dawned on him. His lips pressed into a thin line. Leaden weight settled in Hange’s gut. She curled into a tighter ball, pressing the bedsheets over her mouth and nose, waiting for him to gather himself enough to say something. 

After a moment, he spoke. 

“That’s all?” 

Huh? “Huh?!” 

Hange disentangled her arms from the sheets and sat up, staring at him. Levi moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, a scowl back on his face, though there was an intriguing flush high on his cheeks as he whacked her lightly on the top of the head with the leaflets. 

“Stupid four-eyes,” he said, exasperated. “Crying like that. I thought you were dying.”  

“I’m pregnant.” Hange said the word slowly, carefully, in case Levi had somehow misunderstood. He had the audacity to look at her like she was stupid.

“I can see that.” 

“And you have nothing more to say about it? That’s all?” 

Levi shrugged a little at her. Aside from the small patches of colour in his cheeks, Levi seemed wholly unfazed by the revelation. 

“It’s just a baby. We can handle a baby.” 

“That doesn’t terrify you?” 

Levi scrutinised her for a moment, before he said, “are you scared?” 

“Yes? Yes! How are you so calm? We can’t afford a baby—we don’t have the time for a baby? Where will they going to sleep? We don’t have a spare room. Can we get time off work to take care of a baby? How will we pay for childcare when we can’t be around?” 

“Hange,” Levi said, putting a stop to her rambling. He watched her with a pinched stare. “Do you not want it?” 

Hange had spent the majority of the day mulling over this same question. Staring a family was a huge, life-changing commitment, something that required  careful forethought and planning. They had not had that luxury. Hange was pregnant now. She had doubts and fears, more than she could ever express, but the idea of simply having a baby—of having this baby—wasn’t upsetting. In the small, brief moments she had allowed herself to imagine a future where she and Levi were parents, where they weren’t wanting for money or time, where things were well, she felt happy. Giddy. The prospect was almost exciting. 

“It’s not that,” Hange said earnestly. “I do—I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—I do want it. But I just—we had no time to prepare. We have no savings, we have no space, I’m a mess. How are we supposed to take care of a tiny person? Babies are hard work, Levi.”

“You’re already hard work.” 

Hange laughed weakly, and wiped at her face again. Levi pressed a kiss to her raw cheek. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Hange leaned into him, sighing quietly. 

“Is this the kind of thing we can just figure out?” 

Levi hummed, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers skimmed up beneath Hange’s shirt, splaying over the small of her back and pulling her closer. 

“Why not? We’ve done a good job bullshitting our way through everything else.”  

Hange laughed lightly and bumped the side of her head against Levi’s.  

“This is different, Levi. This is a person. A tiny little person who is going to need me and you to do everything for them. What if we can’t do it? What if we mess up?” 

“Hange.” Levi pulled back a little and his hands came up to grip either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “Stop. I know all that. But if you want the brat, and I want the brat, we’ve got no choice but to get on with it.” 

“I know, I know, but—wait, you want the baby?” 

Levi maintained eye contact with her, but it seemed to take a concentrated effort to do so. The flush of his cheeks deepened a little and his lips quirked at the corners. No doubt to compensate for the show of emotion, he pulled his face into his customary frown. 

“It’s fine,” he said. Hange fought the urge to roll her eyes and caught his hands as he lowered them from her face, pulling them into her lap. 

“Are you saying that because it’s already too late, or do you want to keep it?” 

Levi’s face took on a look of constipated strain. He curled his lip as though in distaste, then hooked a hand around the back of Hange’s neck and pulled her face to his abruptly, smacking a kiss to her lips. He let his forehead settle against hers and stroked his thumb over the hinge of her jaw. 

He fought to keep his tone neutral, but Hange could hear the happy tremor in his voice as he said again, “It’s fine.”

For the first time since hearing the news that day, Hange allowed herself to feel excited. To accept the idea that she and Levi were about to start their own bizarre little family. That Levi was still with her felt incredible enough, but to know that he was pleased—it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hange gave a wet laugh and kissed him again. 

“Are you allergic to looking happy?” Hange asked as they broke apart. Levi clicked his tongue and pulled back to flick her square between the eyebrows. She laughed a little louder and leaned to wipe her runny nose on his shoulder. Levi muttered under his breath, but didn’t push her away.  

“Okay,” Hange said, after a moment. She sat back and pushed her hair back from her face. “Okay. We’re having a baby, then.” 

Levi’s rubbed the smile from his lips with the back of his hand, nodding. “We’re having a baby.” 

Hange sunk down to flop back over the pillows. Levi looked down at her, head tilted, chewing the inside of his lip. Hange reached up to brush his fringe off his forehead, warmth spilling in her chest when he held her hand close and turned to kiss her palm. 

She smiled a little playfully, and freed a leg from the sheets to dig her toes into his ribs. 

“If I’d known you wanted kids I would have been significantly less stressed, you know.” 

Levi quirked a brow at her. 

“I’ve told you that before.” 

“No, you haven’t.” 

“I have. At your sisters wedding.” 

Hange racked her brain, searching for the conversation. She remembered the occasion, and she remembered that she and Levi had somehow ended up babysitting Hange’s family brood. She remembered Levi, wrestling to keep her youngest nephew on his lap while the eldest, still only five or six at the time, was clambering up the back of his chair, sticky hands tugging at Levi’s collar. Hange fought hard to recall more of what was said, but could remember nothing at all of Levi announcing that he had wanted one of his own. 

“You said these brats aren’t so bad,” Hange said slowly. 

Levi nodded at her. Hange waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, only looked at her like there was nothing more he needed to say. 

“That’s it? That’s your idea of telling me you want kids?” 

“The hell else could I have meant?” 

Hange dug her toe at him again but Levi caught her foot this time, pushing it firmly down onto the mattress. Hange reached for him with both arms instead, curling them around the back of his neck and tugging him down quickly. He toppled over her with a quiet oof, and Hange rolled them quickly, straddling his waist and dropping her weight down onto him. 

“That is the kind of thing you say clearly, Levi! These brats aren’t so bad—you’re ridiculous!” 

Levi wrestled with her arms a little longer before giving up and bringing his hands instead to rest low on her hips. He watched her with a curious expression on his face, something open and soft, and then his eyes roved down to her abdomen and his thumbs brushed inwards, beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking over her lower belly. 

This time, he didn’t fight his smile. 

He reached up and pulled her down by the neck, and kissed her soundly. Hange melted against him, welcomed the press of his tongue between her lips, shuddered pleasantly when he nipped at her bottom lip. She went with him willingly as he rolled them both over, nudging a knee between her legs and settling his weight against her. 

She was spreading her legs to make space for him, when he paused suddenly, and pulled back, leaning over the bed and scooping through the discarded back of leaflets. Hange, winded and dishevelled, watched him incredulously as he flicked through the contents of one, then tossed it aside and opened another. 

“What are you doing?” 

Without looking up, Levi replied, “Checking.” 

“Checking what?” 

“I wanna know if we can still—” he waved a hand between them, and went back to searching. 

“We’ve been—” Hange mimicked his gesture, “—up until now anyway.” 

Levi looked up at her, looking mildly horrified. He held up one his open leaflet and said, “You’ve been drinking alcohol, too. You’re not supposed to do that. And look, here—you’re not supposed to overwork. You’ll have to take on less hours at the university. And you’ll eat. Proper damn meals. Every day.” 

Hange flopped back against the pillows, eyes rolling, watching as Levi picked up each new leaflet in turn, pointing out every little adjustment that Hange would have to make. 

“This one says you should get eight to ten hours sleep per night. Every night. And not so much coffee, the caffeine’s bad for the baby.” 

The baby. It sounded surreal. It sounded ridiculous. Levi shifted to sit against the headboard beside her after opening the chunky little What to Expect While Expecting volume Hange had been handed while leaving the doctors. He seemed thoroughly engrossed, and seemingly unaware when one of his hands reached out to pull Hange’s hair free of its ponytail and sink into her hair. She hummed happily as his nails scraped over her scalp. 

Things were still scary, and Hange was still uncertain about how this whole adventure might turn out. But Levi was still with her, and Levi was happy, and that—

—Well, that was good enough. 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: NHS non-fatally qi deviates. How do NMJ and the others take that?

ao3 

Untamed

It had always been something of a behind-closed-doors debate – a chicken-and-the-egg problem, what came first, what was the cause and what was the symptom.

Was the Nie sect’s atypical cultivation method the reason behind the notorious Nie temper? Or were they born with the temper, and the cultivation method merely built upon that? Which one was the reason for their clan’s tendency towards early qi deviations?

Nie Huaisang usually threw his money on the “blame the cultivation style”, almost entirely for the sake of pissing off his brother.

He was starting to think, though, that he’d been wrong.

Aituan wasn’t even anywhere nearby, after all, when he started bleeding out of his qiqiao, his qi disordered and violently raging inside of him and still somehow, somehow not enough to assuage the rage in his heart, in his head –

“Nie-xiong! Nie-xiong! Nie Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang turned with a snarl, but Wei Wuxian was already holding up his hands in surrender, Jiang Cheng quickly following suit a second later, and in the end he wasn’t really angry at them.

“I’m pretty sure you’re done,” Jiang Cheng said cautiously. “You’re – you are done, right?”

“I dunno,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “I don’t think Wen Zhuliu is entirely paste yet – there’s still a few bones Nie-xiong hasn’t crushed down into dust…”

“Shut up.”

“I will not.”

The familiar bickering was soothing, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a tough day – like arguing with his brother about silly things, scoring a clever point and getting one of his brother’s rare smiles. Nie Huaisang felt his shoulders relax a little, and he lowered the stick –

“Why am I holding a stick?” he asked blankly, looking down at it. He didn’t remember picking it up at any point. “And why is it…uh…”

“Covered in the blood and guts and possibly brain matter of your enemy?”

Nie Huaisang swayed, suddenly light-headed. “…that,” he agreed, voice weak.

He slowly became aware that there was something squishy and wet under his feet, soaking into his shoes, and he very carefully did not look down.

“What happened?” he asked faintly. “What did I – actually, on second thought, don’t tell me.”

Jiang Cheng’s expression was a strange mix of being impressed with him and pitying him, and honestly Nie Huaisang preferred the pity. No one was impressed with him, not ever, and in retrospect he rather liked it that way, if the alternative was…

“You defeated the Core-Melting Hand in one-on-one combat,” Wei Wuxian said. “Congratulations.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“Don’t you remember?” Jiang Cheng said, blinking at him. “He said something about your brother, and you suddenly lost it –”

Nie Huaisang remembered, suddenly, and he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as his vision flickered red around the edges again, and he imagined he could hear Aituan shouting his name from thousands of li away. How dare that man, that stone-face bastard who looked so long-suffering and yet underneath it all was so cruel and unfeeling – how dare he say such a thing about his da-ge –

Nie Huaisang had been angry the entire time he’d been here at the indoctrination camp.

Really angry, not the silly little temper tantrums he usually threw back at home or the occasional shouting matches he had with his brother to vent steam. He hated it here. He hated the fact that he was here in the Nightless City, the one place his brother had always refused to bring him no matter how embarrassingly impolitic it was, the place Sect Leader Wen had murdered his father over a stupid dinner table conversation. He hated the fact that his brother had tried to protect him, and failed only because he’d gotten distracted by Meng Yao of all people.

(He hated the fact that he’d had to learn that fact from one of his retainers, weeks too late and him already gone to the Nightless City, too late to apologize or make it up; hated the fact that the last words he’d said to his da-ge on the subject were cruel ones, blaming him for sending away his friend, when in fact his friend had torn off his face to reveal something dark beneath. He hated that his brother had just taken those cruel words from him, suffered under his accusations, without defending himself from them, because he blamed himself for – for what? For being just, the way he was supposed to be?  For protecting him?)

He hated the Yin metal, the vile corruption he could feel for all that they were in a different part of the palace. He hated Wen Chao making them memorize and recite, which he was terrible at, and he hated him for making them do it outside in the hot sun and the hot earth until he fainted from heatstroke, his weak golden core insufficient to protect him the way the others did them.

He hated Wen Ruohan, he hated Wen Chao, and he hated, hated, hated Wen Zhuliu.

Most of the boys at the indoctrination camp had gotten the idea that he wasn’t that bad, for all that he was terrifying, because he always looked so bored about everything, like he was having to fulfil all of this as a torturous duty instead of a pleasure, but he’d been the one to carry Nie Huaisang back inside after he’d fainted and he’d said some things about his brother then, when Nie Huaisang was too weak to do anything, and today he’d come by, watching Nie Huaisang struggle to set up the small tent he’d been given for their travels, and he’d said them again…

“He wanted to steal my brother’s cultivation,” Nie Huaisang said through numb lips. His hands were clenched, quivering with rage that was impossible to bury down in his heart – was this how his brother felt all the time? No wonder he was so straightforward about most things; forget scheming, it was amazing he could even think. “He wanted – he didn’t even think of him as a person. Just dirt beneath his feet, fruit ripe for the plucking, some animal he could slaughter as a prize to give to his wretched master –”

He’d even said, today, that they could use what was left over as a corpse puppet, and chuckled when he thought of what the great Chifeng-zun would have thought of that.

Nie Huaisang had been angry ever since they’d arrived, full of bile and choler and rage.

His family never did handle their rage well.

“You had a minor qi deviation,” Wei Wuxian said solemnly, looking at him. “You’re still bleeding – your eyes, your nose, your ears…We need to get you to a doctor.”

“We need to hide the body before anyone finds it, that’s what we need to do,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We can do both! Multitasking!”

He was very lucky to have such good friends, Nie Huaisang thought to himself, and toppled over.

He woke up back in the sorry excuse for a camp, with Wen Qing acting as his doctor and Wen Ning as her assistant, taking care of him (it had taken an embarrassingly long while before Nie Huaisang remembered their names, for all that they’d come to lessons at the Cloud Recesses, too, both of them, and even though they’d all gone on a whole mission to the village with the goddess statute together afterwards, but in his defense he was really bad at memorizing - anything), and while Wen Qing kept herself nice and professional, Wen Ning kept shooting him extremely impressed looks that Nie Huaisang didn’t think he deserved.

He hadn’t actually defeated the Core-Melting Hand in one-on-one combat, no matter what Wei Wuxian said. He’d launched a surprise attack at the back of a man who wasn’t expecting it, because no one ever expected anything from Nie Huaisang.

“You have remarkable arm strength,” Wen Qing said (she had looked amused when he asked about her name, blushing with shame), sounding casual but clearly fishing a little. “It’s hidden by your thin frame, and even further minimized by your choice in clothing, but actually you have significant muscle there.”

“Saber practice,” Nie Huaisang explained. “Sabers are heavier than swords, and rely more on brute force. At home, you train a lot with heavy things even before you get your own saber, just to make sure you can wield it properly – you have to have a good arm.”

He’d been barely mediocre by his sect’s standards, and even that level he’d only achieved through years of nagging, threatening, and occasional bribery on his older brother’s part. He shouldn’t have been able to win, but Wen Zhuliu hadn’t even been looking at Nie Huaisang when he’d said what he said, hadn’t seen the moment he’d snapped and attacked, his disordered qi giving him extraordinary strength even as it turned against him to destroy him internally, and if there was one thing that saber style taught you it was not to let someone who’d fallen to your blade get up again.

(Had his brother brought out Baxia against Meng Yao, before deciding to let him go? He couldn’t help but wonder – it was bad luck if he had, a severing of the relationship in an unfixable way, but he wasn’t sure his brother would be strong enough to resist trying to repair it if Meng Yao ever came back. Where was Meng Yao, anyway?)

Attacking a man from behind wasn’t really honorable, he thought glumly, and he thought he understood for the first time why his brother was so strict about such things: it didn’t feel good to have done it this way. It felt like cheating, made every approving gaze feel like a lie, like something he didn’t deserve.

“So what happens now?” he asked, and Wen Qing shrugged a little helplessly. “Does, uh…”

“Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi are hiding the remains,” Wen Ning volunteered. He looked way too cheerfully when he said ‘remains’. Possible budding mass-murderer? Or maybe he’d just been a doctor’s assistant for too long. “Wen-er-gongzi hasn’t noticed yet – he’s still with Wang Lingjiao.”

“But he will notice,” Nie Huaisang said.

“As long as he doesn’t blame any of you, does it matter?” Wen Qing said.

“…if you have an example of Wen Zhuliu’s handwriting, I can probably forge it to look like a note saying he was summoned back by Sect Leader Wen.”

Wen Qing and Wen Ning exchanged looks he didn’t quite understand, but they brought him what he needed, and by the time they got trapped in a horrible underground cave with a gigantic man-eating Xuanwu the next day, Wen Chao still hadn’t figured it out, though he’d been in an awful mood the entire time.

“Why are you sitting down?” Jiang Cheng scolded him even as he dashed around fighting Wen sect soldiers, and see, this was why Nie Huaisang didn’t ever fight. It only made people expect him to do it more – Jiang Cheng hadn’t scolded him at all for hiding behind things before…

Before.

“Leave him alone,” Jin Zixuan said. He hadn’t been there, so he still looked disdainful and dismissive; it was amazing how much of a relief that was. “He can’t help anyway.”

“But –”

“My head hurts,” Nie Huaisang said plaintively, and it had the benefit of being both true and working very effectively to get Jiang Cheng to head as far away from him as possible in a sudden rush. After a while, he got up and picked up one of the swords some unfortunate Wen sect retainer had dropped.

“I have no idea what I’m doing with this,” he said, very seriously, to yet another unfortunate Wen sect retainer, before lifting it and bringing it down, saber-style, the way his brother had all but beaten into his head.

That one didn’t seemed like he was expecting it, either, even though Nie Huaisang was right in front of his face and everything.

It felt a bit better, though – Aituan didn’t like the Wen sect one bit, he thought a little muzzily, and wondered why he’d thought that, since after all Aituan was all the way back at home – and he was a little less ashamed to stand with the rest of them as they tried to figure out a way out of the cave.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he said to the Lan disciple who picked up a bow and was trying to aim it at the Xuanwu. “You’ll miss.”

The Lan disciple glared at him.

“Not as bad as I would, mind you,” Nie Huaisang said, looking at it. He felt as though he was standing behind a pane of glass and nothing could touch him - not pain or fear or anything, anything but rage. “I’d probably miss the turtle entirely. I’m just saying that it’s angry now, so the shot’s a lot harder to make; maybe five people could make that shot.”

“Lan-er-gongzi could make it.”

“Yes, well, Lan-er-gongzi isn’t human,” Nie Huaisang said, quite seriously, and the Lan disciple’s lips twitched. “Seriously, don’t waste your time – or your arrows. If you’re anywhere good enough at archery to even think that you could make that shot, you need to keep them to protect me.”

“Are you in need of protection?”

“Oh, always,” Nie Huaisang said blithely, the way he always did, then paused and grimaced. “Most of the time, anyway. I got sick, earlier.”

He was pretty sure the Lan disciple didn’t understand what he meant by sick.

“You don’t really want me to protect you,” the disciple said, frowning. “Do you?”

Nie Huaisang wanted everyone to protect him. He never wanted to fight again in his life.

But the Lan disciple looked like he was a little pleased to have been asked, like no one had ever asked him before, and Nie Huaisang suddenly felt a sudden stab of empathy hitting him straight in the heart.

“I do. I’m pretty sure all the other Nie disciples here are short-range fighters –” His brother had sent as few of them as he could manage, and only sent any at all because he wanted someone there to keep an eye on Nie Huaisang. To protect him. “– and they’re mostly hotheaded idiots –” That was definitely true. “– and I really, really don’t want to end up in another situation where I get sick again, because my brother will never forgive me. So I could use an archer.”

“…okay,” the Lan disciple said. “I’m Su She.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. “I promise to apologize to your sect later on for taking up your time.”

He managed not to be sick the entire journey home.

Maybe it was an aberration, he thought, maybe –

When he got home, his brother was holding Aituan in his hand instead of Baxia – she was in her sheath on his back – and he rushed over to him at once, presenting the saber to him before he did anything else; confused, Nie Huaisang accepted his saber, wondering if he was going to need to go practice or something, and the second his hand wrapped around the hilt –

Oh.

Oh.

His head abruptly cleared, the fog he hadn’t even realized was there finally lifting, the rage draining out of him and back into Aituan – not an especially angry saber, as they went, but still a Nie saber with all that entailed. His qi finally, finally straightened out, stabilized, and he felt like he could breathe again, his mind free and clear now that he had a saber in his hand.

Like all the other Nies before him.

Doomed.

And then he was in his brother’s arms, being held tight.

“Oh, Huaisang,” his brother said, and his voice sounded raw and broken, almost as if he’d been weeping. “I never wanted this for you.”

Nie Huaisang hugged him back.

“It’s okay,” he said, and the buzzing in the back of his head that was Aituan agreed with him. He’d been there the whole time, ever since the first incident; it didn’t matter how far away from each other they were. “It was a small one, it passed, it’s fine…”

It wasn’t fine, and they both knew it – Nie Huaisang might not know the details of all their clan secrets, but he knew enough to know what it was he was so carefully not knowing – but what was there to say?

It was still his family. It was still his heritage.

(He wondered what Meng Yao would say, if he knew. He wondered if he would pull his saber back the way his brother had, if Meng Yao ever betrayed him.)

“At least I can help fight now,” he said, joking, and his brother glared at him.

“Not a chance,” he said. “You’re going to go somewhere safe. You can go with –”

“Su She.”

“– with Su She back to the Cloud Recesses; it’ll be more secure there than here.”

It was about what Nie Huaisang had expected.

“Okay,” he said. “But not now.”

His brother’s eyes flickered down to his saber. His lifeline.

“No,” he said. “Not now.”

[a-lockman5]

Things were different now Pt. 3 - Happy to Help {Devi and Paxton}

A/n: as usual, I don’t own these characters, but I love them. This continues to follow the timeline I initially wrote so it does not coincide with season 2 at all. Paxton is a 17 year old with feelings, not a 10 year old before puberty… I hate proofreading so if it’s awful, apologies. Umm… so sorry it’s a year late.. and honestly, I kinda hate parts of it, but here we are nonetheless. Hope you like it!

Warnings: fluff, angst, phobias, I think that’s it.

Part one, Part two

Don’t forget to check out my Masterlist!

“Hey, baby,” Ben greeted her in a sing-song voice.

“Morning, Ben,” Devi replied as Ben laid a kiss to her cheek, and took the seat next to her.

“Why didn’t you come by for breakfast this morning?” he asked.

Devi felt her eyes grow wide momentarily. She had been going to Ben’s for breakfast before school all last week, telling her mom they were studying. It wasn’t a formal date though, and she hadn’t thought to plan an excuse. “Uh…” she scrambled, feeling the room close in as people filled the desks behind and on her other side. “I’m not feeling well,” she lied. “I overslept.”

She averted her gaze from Ben to dig a pencil out of her backpack from where it sat on the floor to her right. When she tried to unzip her pencil holder though, it got stuck and she flung it, one-handed, onto the floor. As she reached down to grab it, the person sitting next to her reached down to help too, and when she looked up, Paxton was grinning back at her.

“Morning, Vishwakumar. Long time, no see.”

Devi tried to swallow past a large lump in her throat. “Morning, Paxton,” she returned hesitantly, noting his hair was still damp and that it added curl to his hair that usually he used product to tame.

Devi had her first swim lesson with Paxton that morning before school. It’s not that she was hiding it from Ben, her boyfriend. It was just that she didn’t feel ready to tell him about it… so yeah, she was hiding it from him. Not because of Paxton though! She was hiding it because of her.

Not even Devi’s mom knew how afraid she was of being in the water since her paralysis was triggered. Prior to that, she loved swimming. It was the only sport she was at all inclined to and she even considered trying out for team sophomore year until she went crazy and lost her legs.

She tried to move past it. Well, kind of. Her physical therapist thought aquatic therapy may help strengthen and facilitate the functional return of her legs. Instead, it resulted in her screaming and hyperventilating in Dan’s arms as he struggled to get her back to the lift out of the pool. Devi begged Dan not to tell her mom about her newfound fear and promised she would discuss it with Dr. Ryan. Her physical therapist agreed, and Devi never mentioned it to anyone again. Until Paxton.

“You want to swim?” He repeated back, puzzled as they sat on the couch in the garage. “I’ve seen you swim.”

“When?”

“Your freshman year…” he trailed off as realization dawned on him.

Devi didn’t know Paxton had any idea who she was until she propositioned him at the beginning of school this year. He remembered her from the year before? He remembered her before she lost her legs?

“Yeah… I haven’t been able to since…”

“So when you fell in the pool at Gross’s party…?” Paxton filled the silence for her.

“I’m really glad you pulled me out otherwise it would have gotten way more embarrassing,” she admitted.

She saw his jaw clench before his next question, “Why didn’t your friends help you?”

“Um…” she took a deep breath to muster the courage up to tell him, “they don’t know… nobody knows.”

And then he gave her that same deep, calculated look. The look he gave her when they were in his car so many weeks ago. The look he gave her before they kissed. Before he kissed her.

He agreed instantly after that. And things went mildly well that morning. She wasn’t able to get in the water, so instead, she sat next to the edge of the pool and watched Paxton swim for awhile and then they talked.

She was surprised by how patient Paxton had been with her especially since she dragged him out of bed earlier than necessary. He told her it was a process though, and he agreed to help her through it. Her heart felt full when he said that. She probably would have read too far into it in the past, but things were different now.

Devi knew she would have to tell Ben eventually that she was spending so much time with Paxton, but she just didn’t want him to overreact. He knew how much she had pined for Paxton before they started dating, and even though she and Paxton were friends only now, it wouldn’t change the threat he posed in her boyfriend’s mind.

you and PHY seem awfully chummy - Fab

Devi looked over her shoulder at her friends after reading Fabiola’s text message. Both Fab and Eleanor were giving her pretty pointed looks, and Devi just responded with a grimace and raised eyebrows. This whole friends thing sounded so easy with Paxton when they were sitting on his couch in the middle of the night. No one else was around, no one could pass judgment. Things were going to be a little harder in practice.

Fortunately, class was pretty uneventful. Mr. Shapiro started a new unit, they went over the lesson, and they were dismissed. Devi gathered her things quickly and hurried out of the room without waiting for her friends, her boyfriend, or Paxton. Of course, Paxton was her friend, so she didn’t know why she listed him in his own category.

“Hey,” the object of her musings appeared beside her locker.

Devi jumped at the sound of his voice, but managed to somewhat recover. “Hey, what’s good, playa?”

Paxton smirked at her with warm eyes. “Just wanted to check on you now that it’s been a couple hours.”

“Oh! Honestly, I feel good. Watching you actually helps me calm down,” she said before realizing how it sounded. “I mean, not that I just watch you, but I mean, watching you swim… it’s nice to see how you glide through the water… it’s like a white noise machine.”

“Right,” Paxton replied slowly after a beat. “Well you should come by today after school. I have an idea.”

She nodded as he walked away down the hall. Before Devi’s imagination could get the better of her though, her friends replaced Paxton in her line of vision.

“What is going on?” Fabiola asked bluntly.

“Yeah, are you and Paxton hooking up behind Ben’s back?”

“What? Of course not!” Devi was outraged. How could they think she would do that? “Paxton is my friend.”

“Since when?”

“Yeah, last thing we knew, you went there for dinner for his sister and it got hella weird,” Eleanor added. “What gives?”

Devi had not shared the one on one conversations she and Paxton had with her friends. Sure, the initial apology after dinner would probably be okay. Having a drink with Paxton in the garage at 2 o’clock in the morning after catching him in his underwear with an erection? No, there was no good way to relay that encounter.

“Um..” Devi hesitated. She couldn’t tell them the truth now after hiding her fear for so long, and then telling Paxton before telling them. They’d think she was a bad friend. “I’m tutoring him,” she lied. “Yeah, he’s got to get his grades up to meet the minimum for Stanford swimming to offer him a scholarship so I’m helping him.”

“Does Ben know?” Eleanor asked as Devi’s phone pinged in her pocket.

She pulled her phone out and read the message from Paxton, don’t forget to bring your suit ;), and she felt her cheeks heat up. “No,” she told Eleanor absentmindedly. “No, he doesn’t know.”

“Well, are you going to tell him?” Fabiola prodded.

Devi shook herself out of her daze and really heard her friends’ questions. “No, not right now. You guys know he would freak out if he knew Paxton and I were spending time together no matter how platonic. I’ll tell him eventually but everything is still so new, I don’t want to wreck it.”

Her friends’ judgment was evident, but Devi couldn’t let that bother her. Paxton was helping her confront one of her deepest fears, and she didn’t need to feel guilty about that. Instead, she chose to focus on making the most of her time with Paxton and enjoying their friendship while hopefully ridding her of her phobia.

Devi knocked briefly before letting herself into the Hall-Yoshida garage. It was empty and so she dropped her bag and plopped down onto the couch. It was almost funny, Devi thought. Things were so different now. A few months ago, she was terrified entering this space. She’d freaked, cut her leg open and bolted. Even the last time she’d been here, she’d tried to quietly reflect and calm her nerves after having one of her sexual fantasies manifest in the form of actually seeing Paxton Hall-Yoshida in his underwear with a boner. Now, she just comes right in and —

“Make yourself at home,” Paxton’s voice broke her from her thoughts.

She intended to make a sarcastic retort, but was caught off guard by him being in swim trunks already, and not the tight spandex trunks he wore for the swim team. No, these were normal, red and black trunks. They were entirely less revealing, outside of showing off his muscled chest, but they weren’t a uniform. Something about Paxton being voluntarily half naked and not bleeding from the hand had Devi looking at him dumbly from across the room.

“Devi, you good?” He asked cautiously, coming to sit next to her.

Her gaze trailed down from his collarbone to his pecs, to his abs, to his… her eyes grew wide as she realized she was openly ogling him. She snapped her eyes back to his to find him grinning at her.

“Everything okay?” He asked again. She nodded dumbly in response. “Good. Why don’t you go change? I have an idea that may work to start.”

“Okay, I’ll go change in the bathroom and meet you back here?”

“Nah, just come out to the back yard.”

Completely disrobed in the bathroom, Devi had another decision to make. Two suits. She brought two bathing suits with her both that morning and in the afternoon. She hadn’t even bothered to change before class that morning because just entering the aquatic center was enough to bring her near hyperventilation. She couldn’t do that again, and to be fair, if Paxton had a pool, it was news to Devi. And she asked him to help her swim. If that’s what she really wanted, then she needed to trust Paxton and let him help her. That meant she had to choose: black, Speedo one-piece or bubble gum pink bikini?

“Why’d you even bring both, Devi?” She asked her reflection.

She wasn’t sure she was ready to answer that question. She knew things were different now. She was dating Ben, and Paxton was her friend. That was her choice… it was just a much easier choice to make when she and Paxton weren’t speaking to each other. If she was honest, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Paxton since their middle of the night encounter last week. He was right when he said they had come a long way. She had come a long way, becoming more comfortable around him, and seeing him on an equal level versus the Adonis pedestal she placed him on in the past. Then he became real.

Paxton became more than the unattainable sex god that riddled her darkest fantasies. He became someone she could talk with, laugh with, open up to. He became her friend. Her friend that was still a sex god that riddled her darkest fantasies… these were the thoughts that had her leaning toward the far more revealing bikini for their lesson that afternoon.

She had a boyfriend though, a boyfriend she very much liked. Sure, she and Ben were unkind to each other in the past. He had routinely referred to her by a boy’s name, called her unfuckable, and yeah, he started the rumor that she faked her paralysis freshman year. She played her own role in their antagonistic relationship though, and all that was behind them anyway. Ever since his party, Ben had been much nicer to her. Of course, that was including when he tried to kiss her while still dating Shira… but obviously, that was because he had feelings for her that when he was sober, he wasn’t ready to confront yet. He had been there for her like no one else had. He deserved a good girlfriend. That was Devi’s last thought on the subject before donning the black athletic one piece.

The first thing Devi saw when she stepped onto the patio made her heart catch in her throat. A hot tub. It was too big. It was too much. Too much. She couldn’t get in a hot tub. It was already way too hot, Devi thought, feeling the air get thicker around her. Her throat felt constricted and she wondered how anyone was as able to breathe in these conditions. It felt impossible.

“Devi! Are you okay?” She heard Paxton ask faintly.

Her head began shaking back and forth frantically, but she didn’t feel like she was the one controlling it. Instead, it was moving of its own accord, and her voice didn’t sound like her own when she said, “I can’t get in the hot tub.”

Two strong hands grasped her waist and physically turned her so her back was to the offending item. It was then she saw Paxton. His eyes searched hers desperately before a hand came to cradle her face. She immediately felt herself relax into his touch just enough that she could take a breath.

“Hey, you’re okay. I got you,” he cooed. “I know you’re not ready for that, and that’s okay. Just take a deep breath.”

She still felt like she was gulping for air, but her body melted into his as he pulled her in for a hug. They just stood like that until she could regain control of her breathing. When she did, Paxton gently released her and Devi was honestly surprised by how disappointed she was to not be in his arms any longer.

“You good?” He asked cautiously. She nodded sheepishly. “Cool. Let’s get away from this so you can see what I have set up for you.”

She nodded again and let him take her hand to lead her deeper into the backyard. When she saw it, she couldn’t believe the relief that flooded her.

“A slip n slide?” She huffed out.

“A slip n slide!” He dropped her hand to raise his arms victoriously. “I looked up some stuff about phobias and I think it’ll help. It’s called exposure treatment. We’ll start slow and work your way up.”

“You researched phobias?”

“Well, yeah,” he nodded. “And I’ll be here for you the whole time.”

Devi felt herself smile. Paxton really took the time to try to figure out how to help her. No throwing her in the deep end of the pool, but actually holding her hand through this. Being by her side while they figured it out together. She couldn’t believe how lucky she felt to have him in her life at that moment.

It wasn’t a very fancy slip n side, most likely he’d had it in the shed since he and Becca were kids. It was still in good shape though and he’d placed it over a decline at the end that allowed for pooling of water. He had the hose running and ready, but when they stepped up to the start, it became infinitely more intimidating.

As though he could sense her apprehension, Paxton said, “how about I go first, and then you can try?”

She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat in order to respond. When she wasn’t successful, she nodded. Paxton gave her a weak grin, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. It was probably a measure of reassurance, and it worked for a moment, but the minute his touch was gone, her nerves settled in again.

“Okay, so you want to get a running start so you go faster through the slide,” he told her, taking four to five steps back. “You ready?”

“Ready,” she choked out after a beat of silence.

Paxton took off, and dove smoothly onto the track. Devi felt her anxiety melt away as he slid down the track on his stomach. It was almost like watching his perfect strokes through the water, and something about watching him made her forget her fear. Then he crashed into the small wading pool at the end of the slide, and just like that Devi’s breath was stuck in her throat again, and it felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped over her head.

When Paxton stood up, he immediately sought her gaze for eye contact. Just as quickly, he seemed to notice how her panic rose again.

“Devi,” he called down to her. “You can do this, okay? Don’t think about the water, just focus on me.” She could feel how wide her eyes were and her mouth was starting to dry out as it hung open, but Paxton’s encouragement started to wear her down when he said, “Come to me, Devi. I got you.”

She took a steadying breath and barely nodded before stepping a few paces back like Paxton had. Paxton continued to cheer her on and beckon her to his open arms as she fought her body to cooperate with her. Finally, after another deep breath, Devi let out a guttural scream, her war cry, and ran toward the slide. She slid onto her stomach much like Paxton had and did not have the good sense to close her mouth until it was filled with hose water. It got her choked up again and it was difficult to catch her breath, but just as quickly as she started, she was plunged into the wading pool. Before she had a chance to panic-swallow more water, Paxton’s strong arms hauled her to a standing position and she collided with his chest in a tight hug.

“You did it!” He whispered triumphantly. “You did great, I’m so proud of you.”

“I did it,” she breathed, arms clutched tightly around his shoulders as though he would disappear if she let go. “I did it,” she repeated, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Devi and Paxton worked with the slip n slide for three more weeks, and it was amazing how quickly she was improving. Each time, Paxton was there to catch her at the end of the slide, and she grew more confident with each trip.

“So do you have plans this weekend?” Paxton asked, passing her a towel.

“Probably just studying for the history test,” she replied, drying her hair gently.

“With Gross?”

They hadn’t talked about Ben at all during their sessions. She had also skirted the issue of spending so much time with Paxton by telling her boyfriend that she’d been assigned a new student to tutor. She didn’t tell him it was Paxton. Things had been calm the last few weeks despite how crazy the first months of the semester had been. If she was honest, she hadn’t spent much time with or thought much about Ben that week at all. Things were going so well with Paxton and their sessions that she spent most of her time looking forward to the next time she’d be in his backyard in her bathing suit.

“Uh.. I don’t know. Probably him, Fab, and Eleanor, I guess,” she told him. “Or by myself. I don’t really have anything planned.”

“Would you…” he trailed off quietly before finding his voice again. “Would you maybe want to study here… with me?”

Devi felt herself smile. “Sure, I mean, my friends think I’m tutoring you anyway so that would make sense.”

“What?”

She breathed through another smile at how his brow furrowed, but rolled her eyes at herself before answering him. “I had to have a reason for why we’re talking so much more at school… so I told them I was tutoring you.”

Paxton’s head dropped as he huffed out a laugh. “You’re really good at lying, huh?”

“No! I just… get nervous about how people will react to stuff so sometimes it’s just easier to say something else.”

He nodded. “Well, you better tutor me then. ‘Cause if I fail this test, your whole story falls apart,” he said taking a step closer to her.

“Maybe you just don’t listen to me,” she grinned.

He took another step forward, this time into her personal space. “Impossible,” he countered, “have you met you?”

Devi’s smile grew before she realized how close Paxton really was to her. It wasn’t his actual proximity. They’d been closer physically than ever in these recent weeks, but something felt different that time. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and there was electricity in the air. He seemed to feel it too, and shook himself free before taking the towel back from her. That only allowed him to take in the full view of her from top to bottom, forcing Devi to close her eyes so she didn’t feel the full force of his gaze.

She heard Paxton swallow, then clear his throat, and then he took a step back. Devi chose then to meet his gaze, and found the same calculating look she’d now seen a total of three times. He had a depth she hadn’t previously credited him with. Now that she’d seen it, it was hard to ignore.

“Uh.. yeah, I think we could study together.”

Paxton grinned crookedly at her. “Cool,” he licked his lips before changing the subject. “Why don’t you go ahead and change, and then I’ll take you home.”

“That’s okay, I can I walk.” Devi said quickly. “I mean, I’d like to walk. Helps me clear my head.”

“Oh.. okay.”

Devi didn’t feel like she took another breath until she was shut in the bathroom of the Hall-Yoshida residence. Was Paxton really flirting with her? Did he really check her out like she thought he had? She’d been so wrong about so many of their encounters in the past, but… he did kiss her. Paxton Hall Yoshida was her first kiss and it was only a couple months ago. Maybe he really liked her. Maybe they —

A text message on her phone cut off her internal rambling. When she read it, her breath caught in her throat again:

Why are you at Paxton’s?

Fuck. Ben.

How could she forget about Ben? Here she was going down the Paxton rabbit hole again when she had Ben, her actual boyfriend. Things were different now though. She wasn’t sure exactly when they changed, but she knew they had.

She quickly typed out a response and then changed into her dry clothes.

***

“So Paxton is the student you’re tutoring?

“Uh.. yeah, kinda,” Devi told Ben. “Paxton is my friend, but I am helping him study.” It wasn’t technically a lie anymore now that they’d made plans for Saturday.

“Anything else you want to tell me?”

“What are you accusing me of, Ben?”

“Obviously, I’m the only one committed to this relationship. You’re still just drooling over some dick that wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

Devi scoffed, as the wind left her sails. She knew Ben would be hurt, and she expected him to be jealous that she was spending time with Paxton. She didn’t expect him to say Paxton wouldn’t want anything to do with her. She didn’t expect him to imply that she wasn’t good enough for Paxton. Like Ben was doing her some great, big favor by dating her. Once a UN, always a UN, she guessed.

“You know, I came here ready to explain myself, ready to apologize. Maybe you’re right though. Maybe you’re the only one committed to this relationship. God knows, I don’t want to be in a relationship where it’s okay to talk to me like that.”

Ben’s eyes widened, and Devi watched the color drain from his face. “No, Devi, I didn’t mean” —

“You didn’t mean to, not accuse me of cheating on you, but instead, accuse me of so desperately wanting to cheat on you that I would be the lap dog to a different guy?”

Devi really thought Ben deserved an explanation. That was why she went to his house. She realized though, she didn’t owe him anything. Ben had been the constant ignition to Devi’s insecurities. She thought that would stop when they became boyfriend and girlfriend, but no. Instead, he wanted to keep them together by making her feel unwanted by anyone else. She knew better though.

“Devi” —

“You are seriously the textbook ‘nice guy,’ aren’t you?” She air quoted. “Well, I don’t need any of that. I think we’re done here.”

Ben is canceled.

Devi felt oddly satisfied when she sent the text to Fabiola and Eleanor. She thought she would feel guilty after their encounter, but honestly, she felt liberated. Ben had been there for her when no one else was, and he showed that he cared about her. Still, when confronted with the idea that she may want to spend time with someone else, he immediately turned on her. Red flag. Big red flag.

Her friends immediately made plans to have a sleepover at Eleanor’s the following night. They wanted all the details. When Devi happily supplied them, they encouraged her as enthusiastically as she expected.

“Yes, girl,” Eleanor cried, giving her snaps when she told them she wouldn’t let Ben talk to her that way.

“You’re a strong, independent woman, and you don’t need some small little white boy trying to keep you down,” Fabiola bolstered.

“Thanks, guys. That brings me to my next problem though.” And for the first time, she told her friends about when she and Paxton kissed, how her mom had yelled at them the next day and called Paxton stupid, and how he’d left her a voicemail because he’d come to see her while she was in Malibu with her family. They were shocked to say the least.

“So what’s your problem?”

“Wondering exactly how long the pole is that Paxton would touch you with?” Eleanor asked suggestively.

Nope, that is definitely not the issue, Devi thought as she recalled seeing Paxton in his underwear. No, she knew exactly how big a tent that pole could support. The question was, was she misinterpreting their relationship?

“No… I mean, do you think he could like me?”

“Well, he definitely liked you enough to kiss you, but you also chose Ben over him,” Fabiola recapped. “That’s a tough blow.”

“But he wants to spend time with Devi anyway,” Eleanor argued. “I mean, you guys have study sessions almost every afternoon.”

“Right,” Devi trailed off as she considered her encounters with Paxton since she and Ben started dating. How he’d been respectful of her relationship, never once putting Ben down or asking why she had decided to go out with him. She thought about what a good friend he’d been of late with their sessions. She thought about how close she felt to him, and how she wasn’t exaggerating their closeness like she had at the beginning of the school year. She didn’t need to dress up or fabricate the things he said or did to her anymore. Everything was really happening.

“Do you want us to come tomorrow and assess the situation?”

Devi considered Eleanor’s offer, but finally shook her head. “No, I think this is one I have to sort out myself.”

***

“Alright, who coined the term ‘Cold War’ in the British press in October 1954?” Devi asked, looking up at her companion.

“I don’t know… Russia?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, George Orwell. You’re right, my reputation as a nerd and the best tutor in school is on the line.”

“Shut up, this stuff’s hard. We’re not all Devi Vishwakumar,” he bumped her with his elbow.

“You’re smart too though. How did you know all that stuff about Hinduism or phobias?”

“That’s different. That’s interesting stuff.”

Devi felt her cheeks heat up, and chose to stare at her textbook. Would Paxton find those things interesting if they weren’t directly related to her? Was it his way of saying that she was interesting or important to him? She chanced a glance toward him to see him was also very deliberately staring at his book. She briefly wondered why before he looked up sharply and slapped his knee.

“I guess we have a lot to get through then if we’re going to save your rep. Better get to it.”

“Yeah… for sure,” she said slowly before continuing to quiz him.

A couple hours, some poptarts and pizza rolls later, they had significantly improved Paxton’s knowledge of the subject matter. They both were thrilled with his progress.

“Okay, let’s come full circle,” Devi said. “Who coined the term ‘Cold War?’”

“George Orwell… in the British press… in 1954,” he finished sitting back in his chair confidently.

“Yes! Good job, dude. You picked up on this stuff, no problem!” She smiled.

“Well, you’re a good teacher,” he smiled back, leaning forward.

“You’re a good student,” she told him, biting her bottom lip and leaning forward towards him.

Paxton glanced at her lips briefly before licking his own. She thought, this was it. He was going to kiss her. Instead, Paxton blinked, his eyes staying closed a little longer than normal, and sighed before scooting his chair away from the table.

“Uh.. my parents won’t be home from work for a few hours, and Becca is at a friend’s house if you want to hangout some more,” he suggested, rubbing the back of his neck. “We could drag the slip n slide out?”

Devi smiled. “Umm… I think I’m ready for the next challenge.”

“Yeah?” Paxton asked disbelievingly. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I want to try.”

“Alright,” he smiled with a nod. “I’ll get changed and we’ll head out there.”

Once Devi was closed in the bathroom again, she pulled her suit out of her bag. Pink bikini, don’t fail me now.

After a quick change, and plucking any stray hairs, Devi opened the bathroom door to see Paxton waiting on the other side. Her confidence faltered as he took in her appearance. His brow nearly disappeared into his hairline, and she noticed him swallow before exhaling slowly.

“Is this okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally okay,” he responded, finally meeting her eye. “I, uh, wanted to walk you out so we could avoid as strong a reaction as last time… We’re in this together, right?”

She nodded, appreciating his support. Together.

It seemed like such a good idea before. Before she was standing in front of a large container filled with water. Water that she would have to submerge herself in.

Already drowning in her own fear, Devi didn’t hear Paxton talking to her until she felt him take her hand.

“Hey, Devi,” he called, waving his other hand in her face. “Can you hear me?”

She blinked longer than usual to clear her head before finding his gaze again. “Yeah, sorry. I was just spiraling.”

“Listen, you don’t have to do this right now. There’s no pressure, okay?”

“I know,” she nodded, licking her lips apprehensively. “I want to do this. You won’t leave me, right?”

He smiled. “We’re in this together, Vishwakumar.”

With that, she carefully made her way up the steps, and stepped into the hot water. Paxton held her hand the whole way. The best part of using the hot tub? The heat further distracted her from her fear that she didn’t even realize Paxton was touching her for a moment. It wasn’t until she was sitting down and should have been relaxing that her anxiety began to spike again.

“Hey, breathe, okay? I’m right here,” Paxton’s hand slipped from hers to wrap around her shoulders.

Without thinking, without meaning to, Devi dropped her head into the crook of Paxton’s neck. Her arms clung to his waist desperately, willing her breathing to level out. She felt Paxton’s other arm come around to encircle her, and it had the very calming effect she assumed he intended. As her breathing returned to a normal pace, Devi found she felt almost sleepy. She felt warm, not because of the water, but inside. It was like her body was humming, like everything was fuzzy. She let out a deep sigh of relief, and felt Paxton shift slightly against her.

“Are you okay?” He whispered. She wondered if he could feel how peaceful things were in that moment. No, he probably just wanted to make sure she hadn’t passed out.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “This helps.”

“Yeah? Like watching me helps?”

“I can’t explain it, and I know it doesn’t make any sense especially because I’m such a disaster when we talk,” she rambled before taking a steadying breath, “but watching you, touching you, calms me down.”

Paxton took a shaky breath, and Devi pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes were closed, cheeks flushed. She loved seeing him like this. Vulnerable, as though she affected him as much as he affected her. This time, she thought, I’ll kiss him.

Before Devi could lean forward, Paxton abruptly put space between them. One hand remained on her shoulder, but his head was hanging his eyes were closed.

“Devi,” he started before letting out a long sigh, “I am trying so hard. I mean, I love spending time with you and I want to be here for you. I want to be a good friend to you, but you’re killing me.”

“What?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he replied emphatically. “I don’t really know why, but you do. And all this,” he gestured between them, “feels a lot like cheating, and I’m not down for it.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” the words came tumbling out, “no, no, no. No, that’s on me. Paxton” —

“Devi, I like you,” he cut her off. “Not in the ‘I want to reinstate our sex agreement’ way, but like, I really like you. I hate studying! But you make it fun. I love the way you spit out that first five thoughts that pop into your head at any given moment. I love that you trust me to tell me your deepest fear that no one else knows, and I love that we’ve been able to work through it together. I don’t know if I can do this anymore though.”

“Sorry I didn’t interrupt, you really seemed like you were on a roll, but,” she paused to take another deep breath, “I don’t… have a boyfriend anymore.”

“What?”

“Things are different now. I broke up with Ben two days ago, and… I really like you too. I never wanted just sex from you. I just never thought we’d be here right now.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

She shook her head, shyly looking down at the water. Her bottom lip found it’s way between her teeth, barely suppressing her smile. She felt his hand slip from her shoulder and snake it’s way around her waist. She looked up as he pulled her body into his so close that their breath mingled.

“Should we make another toast?” She asked nervously.

His forehead pressed against hers as he laughed. When he regained his composure, he looked in her eyes warmly. “Later.”

And for the second time, Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s lips were on hers, and it. was. electric. Somehow, it was even better than the first time. She felt everything else melt away, and it was just the two of them floating through space. Nothing else mattered for that moment. She wasn’t sure when she ended up in his lap, but she wound her arms around his neck all the same before her hands found his curly hair. Under other circumstances, she may have worried that her own hair had become so frizzy that he wouldn’t find her attractive. She realized though, she didn’t have to worry about that. No, as Paxton gripped her hips tighter, she knew very well that he was attracted to her.

This was everything she ever wanted, except it was better. Paxton’s hand came up to cradle her face as his tongue massaged hers in a way that made her spine tingle. Devi was so engrossed in having the greatest moment of her life, she didn’t hear the back door open.

“Wooooo!” Becca hollered as they jumped apart. “Finally!”

“Becca, get out of here!” Paxton yelled, splashing his sister. She laughed, making a comment about being safe as she went back inside.

“So… your sister’s home,” Devi said. They sat awkwardly for a moment before both breaking into a fit of laughter.

“Yeah, mood ruined, I guess.”

“Well, I know one thing: this is the happiest I’ve felt in any body of water in a year.”

He huffed out a laugh, eyes finding his lap before meeting her gaze again. “Happy to help.”

<< Part 2

[clarissalance]

Wolves

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!Reader, Diluc, Crepus

Warning: minor swearing, cheesy flirt, dry humour

Summary: All men are wolves.

A/N: Muahaha I have came back and brought you the blatant cheesy flirt. Welcome to the first lesson of flirting with Kaeya. Lol, guess who is coming next? 

Also, I’m planning to write a wind-trace fic because the game is so fun. (p/s: I waste 3 hours playing it) Guess who is in it? 

Okay, the first fic for my lover boy. Please give Kaeya a lot of love!! (*￣3￣)╭ 

Another beautiful day, another day of wasting the lovely weather to stay inside the study room, bury your head into the pile of books next to you. You let your eyes wander to the window again, gazing rays of light fleeting through the window, golden hues on the wooden floor. Tiny specks of dust accumulate overnight, fluttering around the curtain. Outside, the chirping birds bathing under the sun, casually chilling on the window. Oh, how you wish you would be able to relax like those carefree animals.  

“You might burn the birds crips the longer you stare at it.” Startled by the quiet voice, your head snaps toward the blue-haired teenage direction, and you can’t help but scowl at his statement. You can’t be the only person in the room who wants to go out and play. Knowing Kaeya, he’s definitely trying to find an excuse to end the class early. 

The only person who is diligent, hard-working, and does not have thought about leaving this room is the young master Diluc. The young man is sitting opposite you, eyes burning holes on the thick textbook. 

Archon, how can a 16 years old overly enthusiastic person like him enjoy the excitement of reading Descartes philosophy? Maybe he is the only child in Mondstadt, no, maybe in the whole Teyvat who enjoys something torturous like that. Shivering at your own thought, you shift your chair closer to Kaeya, giving Diluc a terror gaze.      

“Aren’t you going to finish the essay?” Pointing at the half-full parchment on the table, you ask. “ Diluc and I already finish it.” 

“ Oh, how do I know? How am I suppose to understand Kant and Descartes theories, and then link them to deductive and inductive reasoning?"  Kaeya lets his finger running through the silky blue hair and pulls them out of frustration. On the other side, Diluc shoots him a glare, annoyed by his brother complaint. 

 “How did you guys do it?” Kaeya asks boredly, his finger pokes the quill. 

You put your hand under your chin, beaming him charmingly.  “ You know Kaeya, it is something I call improvisation. Words just flow out of my tip.” Under your lashes, you can see his cheek dusting pink. Cute! 

“ Just read the books, and you will get it.” Diluc unhelpful adds. 

Both of you stare at red-head incredulously. Is he being serious? 

Like always, Kaeya knows he can not take your advice to heart. One is a genius, and the other is just pure luck.  

Suddenly, the door is burst open, and you quickly shove your feet into the shoes, eyes darting to see the intruder. Internally, you hope that person is not lady Elizabeth, your etiquette teacher. Your blood runs cold at the thought. You can already imagine her sharp tones commenting how horrendous and un-ladylike your act is. 

“How is your study going?” A deep, strong voice booming from the back, and finally, you get let out a breath. Diluc looks up from his book, beams brightly at the man. 

“ We are done with homework, father. These are just extra reading.” Well, for the record, these are his extra readings, not yours. And Kaeya hasn’t finished his 2 feet scrolls of essay yet. 

Master Crepus nods in satisfaction. “ If that is finished, you kids can take a break. The young lady from the Gunnhildr family is here with her father. Maybe you can give her some accompanies.”  The middle-aged man directs the words at you, maybe feeling guilty for leaving a young lady like you in his two sons care. 

Your parents left you in the Ragnvindr care every Summer because of their hectic schedules and frequent business trips at this time of the year. In addition, your mother says it is essential for you to have good relationships with the heir of Ragnvindr and his brother. “Maybe you will need their help someday.” She left it vaguely. 

“ Are you guys going to drink again?” Kaeya suspiciously questions, his eyes glinting with playfulness. 

“ Hey, what’s wrong with men having a drink together?” Crepus defensively retorts, notices how Diluc gives him a disproving gaze.

“ When you guys grow up, you would enjoy it too.” The three let out opposing noises, clearly not having the same idea as him. The man waves dismissively return back the topic. 

“ Let’s come down to greet the head of Gunnhildr first.” He heads toward the door, down the hallway.   

“And be nice to the young lady, boys.” The master emphasizes the phrase, his eyes pinning at the guilty-looking Kaeya and the absent-minded Diluc. Finally, he exits the room, not forgetting to close the door. 

“ Father says as if we don’t treat people nicely.” Kaeya pouts, right after Crepus footstep drifting away from the study. “ The workers never complain anything about our behaviours, right Luc?” 

Sitting next to him, you can't help but let out a snort. He dares to say that? Kaeya raises eyebrows at you, annoyed by your shaking shoulder. The boy in red has a blank face, maybe not interested. 

“ First, you guys ignore me for 2 weeks when I just came here.” You burst out in laughter, recalling back at the very first memory when you just arrived here.

“When I tried to approach, you both avoided me like the plague.” Your whole body is shaking vigorously, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. This is too hilarious! Somewhere in between, you can spot Diluc burning cheek. 

“ Haha, and haha-later,” You can hardly breath, laughter bubbling up. “Adeline told me your reason is ‘It's b-because she doesn’t have a willie.' ” Dramatically air-quoting, you even imitate their stuttering childish voices. This earns you a pointed glare from Diluc and a smack in the arm from Kaeya, but a good laugh is always worth it. 

Both of them freeze on their tracks, faces puff red as tomatoes, steaming almost coming off their ears. If the young heir is to wear a red suit, you are sure he can blend in well with the mansion roof. 

Diluc shifts stiffly in his chair and abruptly stands up, heading toward the exit. Maybe he is too embarrassed at the mention of his dark childhood. 

“Where-haha, are you going, Luc?” You are still in the middle of your giggling, noticing how Diluc is dashing to the door. Letting out a coughing fit, he quietly mumbles. 

 “ I'm going down to greet the Gunnhildr family.” His figure vanishes right behind the door, not letting you tease him further. Outside, the painful sound of Diluc tripping on his own feet make you almost fall off your chair. You have too many good laughs today. 

“Right, I-I should get going too.” Next to you, the blazing Kaeya remembers to dig a hole and hide. His hand slams hard on the table and the youthful teenager stands up, gracefully heading toward the door. Maybe he wants to avoid becoming another joke.  

" Ah, wait-" You follow instantly, but the moment you stand up, something slips, and the next thing you know, the ground is shaking, and you see the ceiling is getting further. 

Your first instinct is to grab the closest object, and then close your eyes, waiting for the painful impact with your head. Clench your jaw tightly, and you hold your breath, hoping it will hurt less if you tense your body. 

Right after tensing up, you feel someone just grab you by your shoulder, and your feet step on something bumpy. And then, your head makes an impact with something hard. A grunting is followed. 

Heart hammering in your chest, you cautiously peek, expecting yourself to see the ceiling, but instead, greet with an unusual sight. A pair of dark colour trouser paired with leather shoes. On top of it is your feet, loosely wore low heel is stepping on that leather shoes. Shit, you stepped on Kaeya. In a panic, you rush down from his painful sore feet, but your head jams in his ribs. He just let out another woeful sound.   

This time, you carefully keep your position in place, slowly remove each foot one by one, moving away from him. Craning your neck upward, you finally meet his gaze, his eyes are full of concern and uneasiness, spooked out by your sudden incident.

 “Did you hit your head hard?” Kaeya asks you nervously, his voice laced with anxiety. He must have been terrified when you slip. You shake your head, hands grabbing his shirt.

" I should be asking you that. Are you okay?" You give him a worrying gaze, your fingers running along his ribs, checking if your stone head broke anything. " I didn't break anything, right?" Hesitantly, you look into his deep blue eyes, noticing the diamond shape. Has he always has this in his eyes? 

Kaeya snorts inelegantly, shakes his head. " Your head is hard as a rock, but that much can't break my ribs yet." This earns him a hit on his arm. 

"Hey! I'm trying to be considerate, and this is how you treat me?" You jab him, hand purposely smack his chest, but he doesn't budge an inch. How strong is this guy? This time, you put all the force on your arm, slapping hard on his chest again. The young man in the blues shoot you a shit-eating grin, clearly not faze.  

 "How is my chest feeling?" He pokes, his palm engulfing yours. 

" Too hard for my liking." You give him a complex look, trying to escape from his tight grip but fail miserably. You wiggle your hand again, shaking off his iron clad. Why is he so strong? 

While you are attempting to flee from his firm grasp, the young man leans down, face an inch away from you. Flushing at the sudden closure, like usual,  you avoid his burning gaze. You hold your breath when your noses almost touch. What is this rascal doing again? 

" You shouldn't be touching men like that." Kaeya opens his mouth, saying something completely out of nowhere. You tilt your head in confusion, while your eyes travel down, you notice your hands still on his chest. O-oh, so he is saying about this. 

" I  don't normally touch random people." You mumble defensively, your eyes lower. " I was checking for your injury."

"They will misunderstand." Kaeya cuts in right after, not accepting the excuse. But why would they misunderstand? You are just being nice, right? 

Like he can understand what is going inside your mind, Kaeya reminds you.

"All men are wolves, you should be more be careful with them."   

You give him a confusing look. 

Kaeya is not one of them, right? 

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and moves back, allowing you to savour your personal space. Just right after your throbbing heart finally calms down, he brings your tight-griped hand in his to his face. Your meet with his alluring look in his eyes. It is pulling you in, telling you to give in the temptation. Plump lips brush your knuckle teasingly, he blows a warm breath on the back of your hand. He gives you a saccharine smile.

" And if not be careful." His husky voice ringing in your ears, the numbing spark runs along your spine. "They might devour you." 

[undead-merman]

Yo this is the person who asked about Monster Dia and Barb, I just want a monster that suits them best.

Alright, I’ve got Barbatos as a Naga and Diavolo as a Dragon

Obey Me Headcanons (Monster Edition) 🐲Diavolo🐲 and 🐍Barbatos🐍 as Yanderes GN - Reader SFW 

Diavolo

Appearance

Diavolo is a proud dragon. He stands much taller than most in the Devildom. His large human figure stands at ten feet tall.

His skin is covered in dark maroon and gold scales, most of them centered around his face, chest, and legs. His legs resemble a dragon’s more than a human’s with three wide toes and long black talons.

He has a long prehensile tail as well tipped with a tuff of black fur and lined with large black plates sticking up dangerously.

His horns and teeth are long and fearsome, his fangs always manage to hang out of his mouth and his smile can be just as lovely as they are terrifying. His horns are always adored with gold accessories, usually in the shape of: golden skulls, torn wings, and blood red rubies.

In his True Form he stands taller then any building in the Devildom and with a wingspan capable of casting a whole city in darkness.

Diavolo’s build is much bulkier in this form, mostly seen around the jaw, and wings. His wings contain rougher and sharper scales and contain some of the black plates his tail has.

His Hoard and His Breath

Diavolo’s bed chamber also doubles as the Royal Treasury. Since his draconic nature craves hoarding wealth he has a need to sleep amongst the treasure.

Every morning he spends his first hour of awakening, sitting amongst the hoard, fiddling with gems and Grimm in his clawed hands, immersing himself in the candle lit room of wealth. Afterwards, he gets up to drink tea with breakfast while reading the R.A.D Newspaper.

He gets anxious and grumpy if he can’t be near his hoard for too long. Barbatos has to help make time in Diavolo’s schedule for Hoard Breaks.

Whenever he pleases, he’s able to breath massive plumes of black hot fire and streams of red lighting. Everything in its wide path is reduced to ash. It gets wider the angrier he gets, and it’s believed that if he truly was ever to get enraged, he could destroy the entire Devildom.

Spending Time with You

Diavolo is captivated with you to the point of obsession, needing you by his side at all times, though knows you need some freedom. Despite his instinctual anxiety of you having autonomy, he knows he could easily dispose of anything should it ever threaten his position with you. Anyone who makes you doubt him, or try to lure you to their side, he would make sure there is no trace of them left.

You are often given gifts, his form of courting you even if you’ve already tied the knot. Gifting you outfits and jewelry made from the finest gold and purest gems. He does this because he now considers you the center of his hoard, the paragon of his wealth, treasure and triumph. He wants to coat you in beautiful fine things.

He enjoys you touching the scaly parts of his body. It feels nice to have your soft warm skin on his cool scales. If you're not against it he’d enjoy you grooming him, it's relaxing.

He loves to have paintings of you made in different beautiful outfits in graceful poses amongst fantastical locations. He likes to sit with you as you pose for the artist and just talk. He adores this special time with you.

You’re the one in existence that has the right to join him in his hoard, and he thoroughly enjoys the time he spends with you in his hoard, which feels more complete with you amongst the jewels. If he had it his way, he would forget about everything except you and his treasures.

His Dark Tendencies

He has such a deep infatuation with you that he would do anything to have you. Though he doesn’t want to force the feeling onto you, instead he does it in secret, keeping up the perfect prince image for you as much as possible.

If he sees someone he deems a threat, he’d make sure they’re taken quietly and dealt with far away from you so there's no possibility you could ever see it.

Sometimes if they’ve made him angry, he’ll take the perpetrator to a private hunting ground so he can hunt them down and eat them himself, making sure not even the bones are left.

He had a wing built onto the castle just to house the thousand portraits he had made. He’s slowly overtime made it into a museum dedicated in all of your splendor. Glass encased objects of random things you had given to him, ranging from birthday presents to random cans of vending machine black tea.

He has stolen a few of your clothes, a uniform jacket or tie. He likes to fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

Diavolo doesn’t punish you at all, you can do no wrong in his eyes, only others can mislead you. He wants you yourself to fall in love with him, you have to learn by yourself how much of a perfect match you are.

Misc. Stuff

Despite being a Dragon with such fierce fire, Diavolo loves to fish in a sized down version of true form.

When he gets too excited his tail wags like a dog’s. He’s been known to have knocked over a few things with his tail when you or Lucifer came to a party or ball of his.

His eyes turn reptilian like in his humanoid form when he gets upset, or when he wakes up in the morning and is processing everything. It takes him a few moments of just staring at the ceiling to figure out he’s awake.

He has given the brothers a ride on his back as a dragon a few times, but sometimes he had flown a bit too fast making them fly off.

Barbatos

Appearance

His body is long and slender, reaching forty feet long. His scales are flat and smooth, black with a teal iridescence to them. If you look at them closely you can see a triangular pattern on his back in different shades of gray and black.

His tail however splits at the end perfectly in two symmetrical pieces.

His tongue is forked and long but he hides it well, however he does have teal coloration on the tip. Barbatos also has a few scale patches on his cheeks and just along his spine to his back hairline.

Barbatos has long perfectly trimmed claws that are sharp as a razor and grown out just far enough to start curving.

Being Cold Blood

Barbatos has to deal with the annoyance of being cold blooded, if he doesn’t heat himself in a nice warm place often enough he becomes lethargic; however no one has ever seen him resting let alone warming himself, people wonder how he always manages to be ten steps ahead of everyone while being cold blooded.

His secret is Diavolo, as he exudes a warm presence simply being near him provides enough heat to keep active for an entire day; and a pot of warm herbal tea to help jump-start his day.

He’s a type of Naga to use constriction against his prey, he has fangs but no actual venom. When he gets angry at the Little Ds you can find him constricting them and giving them a cold smile while scolding them.

Spending time with You

Barbatos just finds you so captivating and pure, he wants you in his arms. He wants to protect something so soft and warm, compared to him.

He loves to wrap his tail around you, around your waist, around your shoulders, he likes it even better if he can wrap it arounds your body completely just feeling the warmth of you on his skin.

He has a habit of spoiling you by bringing you everything you ask for. He always has breakfast in bed for you, he likes to bring you your clothes and always gets the chair or door for you.

He enjoys spending time in the garden with you, sharing a cup of tea and light pastries. Light rainy days are always his favorite just the sight of you in the green glow of the garden, the plump droplets catching the starlight above.

He likes to see you relaxed and happy, it makes his heart feel light and makes him proud to see how content you are. Sometimes he likes to lay with you and place fresh flowers around you and just admire you. He just loves looking at you.

His Dark Tendencies

He gets jealous fairly easily but he tries to not let it show in front of you. Just you smiling in front of someone else is enough to make his scales rise in anger.

He makes sure to find them and threaten them to stay away from you and says it while constricting them so much that they begin turning blue. All of his bottled up anger from everything that has happened, even events that don’t involve the victim, are being let out on them. Harshly and slowly.

He’ll very rarely punish you, if you go out of your way to escape from him he’ll make sure to chain you up and make you beg for him to take care of you, if you don’t you’ll be left alone without food or water.

He has a slightly sadistic want to make you cry. It looks so cute and beautiful to him, like the rain from the garden is dripping from your lovely eyes.

Misc Stuff

Most Nagas aren’t afraid to hunt pests, meat is meat, but Barbatos has a delicate palate and the thought of eating rats makes him ill. He also has a sensitive stomach so he can’t eat too much or anything too hot.

He loves to relax in hot baths but he never has time anymore helping with Diavolo and the Seven Demon Lords.

He likes to wake up early in the morning, put on an apron and start making pastries fresh that morning. Every morning is something new and always delicious.

I take NSFW and SFW check out my pinned post for my rules on requests Take Care - Stay Spooky