#but man. this is exactly what I mean when I say I feel like the least important/loved one in a group/family/whatever

[rissouu]

I KNOW IM YOUR FAVORITE, gojo satoru ཐི♡ཋྀ

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ in which: he may be your ex, but that doesn’t mean you can just move on.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ wc: 2.9k words.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ warnings: lots of angst, dark content (not really), sexual content, pussy!drunk gojo, stalker!gojo, heavy possessiveness, mentions of violence, pet names, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, baby trapping (but y/n wants it), gojo sucks ur feet for literally 1 second, yandere gojo (ehh), cunnilingus, overstimulation, toxic!gojo (barely), ex!gojo, and etc.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ notes: okay look this shit is very freaky, and it’s loosely based on the song hold me down by daniel caesar! and gojo is a stalker y’all, this is your only warning babes.. please leave now if you’re uncomfy! he is kinda crazy in this but in a lovingly way.. y’know? not proofread either so not too much on me!

when you walked into your apartment you couldn’t help the exaggerated giggles you let out. it was embarrassing actually, acting like a school girl in junior high all over again. the reason for your happiness was pretty simple— you just had your first date.

your first date since you broke up with your ex, gojo.

that was about a year ago now.. a year since you and the love of your life parted ways. up until recently you’ve never had the guts to put yourself out there again, always scared that one day you’ll just end up hurt again.

but your whole view on dating changed when you met this guy at a grocery store. he offered to pay for your entire cart, and it was well over $300 worth. you found the gesture sweet, and from there you two exchanged numbers.

he was no gojo of course, but you had to move on at some point. it’s already been a year, if gojo didn’t reach out yet, then maybe that meant he’d moved on too.

well.. so you thought.

you were so caught up in the excitement from how well your date went, you barely even realized you were still in pitch black.

“fuck i got so distracted i forgot to turn the lights on.” you chuckled to yourself, flipping the light switch on and hanging your purse on the door.

you didn’t know why but you had a feeling you weren’t alone, like someone was watching you— or better yet breathing right down your neck.

the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear the drop of a pen. but something felt off about your apartment, and you were never one to ignore your instincts.

just as you were about to retreat and run out the door, a familiar voice had you stopping in your tracks.

no. fucking. way.

“where were you?” the achingly familiar man smiled, trying his best to hide the dangerous aura oozing from his body. he knew exactly where you were, and always have. you didn’t know it yet— but he’d been watching you for a while now. ever since you dumped him which was more than a year ago now.

technically it was stalking.. but he didn’t like to call it that. in his mind, he was more of a guardian angel— just making sure you’re okay and still breathing.

how else would he check on you since you blocked him on everything else?

the white haired man was sitting on your couch with his head tilted— clearly waiting for an answer although he already knew where you were to begin with. it was pretty easy to keep tabs on you.

you stared at him, a small frown forming across your face. you were feeling weak in the knees. the first thing you wanted to do was jump on him and tell him how much you missed him.

but you knew you couldn’t do that, not anymore. the two of you just didn’t go together, or at least that’s how you felt a year ago. you couldn’t get back with him, you wouldn’t. no matter how much it hurt.. it was better than dealing with his unstability.

“what are you doing in my house, gojo?” you folded your arms— staring back at him with the same expression he was giving you. that’s what he loved about you, you weren’t easy.

with the blink of an eye, he was up from the couch and coming closer towards you. the man easily towered over you so to say he was intimidating was an understatement.

instead of answering your question he just stared at you with a blank expression— and you did the same exact thing. this was common with you two, just staring at each other in silence until one of you dared to speak up.

about five minutes later, gojo finally cracked. you silently praised yourself for being able to last longer than him.

with a low chuckle, he shook his head— slightly licking over his lips. “i think im the one asking the questions here, hm? so answer me.”

you scoffed at his arrogance, seems like some things just never change. “i was on a date if you must know, now get the hell out of my house.”

as soon as you got your words out he couldn’t help but to laugh. honestly, gojo didn’t even know what was so funny, maybe it was the way you said it.. you really thought you held some type of authority?

“and now you’re laughing at me? what’s so funny?”

that only made him laugh more, truth be told gojo wasn’t even trying to laugh, but you trying to be somewhat “mean” was taking him out because you were nothing like that.

you were one of the kindest people he’d ever met, so this little act you had on was amusing to him.

“shit, im sorry!” he clutched his stomach, letting one last chuckle out before continuing. “it’s just.. you really think im falling for this little act of yours?”

your face was quick to scrunch up— finding every bit of his words disrespectful. but it was gojo, so what could you really expect? his bluntness would probably be the death of him.

“excuse me? need i remind you, we are not together anymore gojo!” your voice came out a lot shakier than you’d hoped for it to. what the hell was going on with you?

“well clearly i know that, or else i’d go and kill that fucker you were out with tonight.”

throwing your hands in the air you muttered a strand of curse words, it’s impossible to get through to someone as hard-headed as him. “please just see yourself out.”

before he could respond, you walked off toward your room. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him or his childish antics, he’d already managed to ruin your entire mood. all this did was remind you why you keep your heart locked away— because of arrogant assholes like him.

“there’s no need to be rude, y’know? i just wanna talk to my favorite girl.” gojo followed you to your room— just like you knew he would. god, he’s so annoying.

it looked the exact same as the last time he was here except for the empty wall where the pictures of him used to hang. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest heavy, and heart pang in sorrow. could you really have been done with him for good this time?

“whatever, just don’t get on my bed.. i don’t know where you’ve been.”

‘stalking you’ he chuckled to himself before completely disregarding your request, and plopping down on your bed anyways.

you decided not to scold him for doing exactly what you said not to do. that’s just who gojo was, no one could boss a man like him around.

you weren’t even being serious either. in hindsight, you really did enjoy having him around. as much as you hated to admit it.. it reminded you of the old times, when it was just you and him against the whole world.

“i missed you, y’know? you just up and left without a word.. and next thing i know im blocked.” even though he tried to hide it you could hear the pain in his voice. losing you was like losing a piece of him too, he couldn’t stand it. he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel.

the only reason the man was able to keep it together was because he was watching you, ensuring you weren’t completely out of his life.

it sounded crazy. hell— it was crazy, but when it came to you he’d do anything.

“i know.. & im sorry for the way i handled that. i just felt like we needed to move on, try new things…”

“i don’t want to try new things!” he scowled, quickly sitting up from the bed to face you. “i want you.. just you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

the air was thick, and the room felt like it was caving in. your body was practically on fire listening to him say the words you’d been craving to hear.

“and about that date of yours..” he cooed, running his hands up your thighs and slowly spreading them. “we won’t be worrying about him anymore, will we?”

that little date was never a threat to gojo to begin with. both you and him knew that, but he took manners into his own hands just to mark his territory.

gojo made sure to corner the poor guy as soon as your date was over, and needless to say.. a few threats were all it took. you should be happy he didn’t do worse, it ran across his mind to kill the poor guy at first.

“i..if we do this then no more bullshit okay?” your soft hands gripped his chin as you forced his beautiful blue eyes to meet yours. “none of that childish stuff this time. we’re both grown so we need to act like it, we’ve had a whole year to fix ourselves.”

every time the two of you got back together it turned into complete chaos. gojo wasn’t the best man out there, and you weren’t the best woman. both of you had your own flaws regardless, but you two needed each other.

that was well established the first 10 times you guys broke up, and unsurprisingly you always ended up back in each other’s skin.

gojo’s gaze on you was heavy, almost as if he was trying to study your every breath and blink. all of the dumb, childish expressions on his face from before were far gone.

“yes princess, whatever you want.” he softly spoke as he sunk his head into the skin of your stomach, littering you with soft kisses. “i’ll do whatever you want..”

gojo spoke so gently— his voice softer than ever as he pushed you on your back, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

you stared at him intently, waiting to see what he would do next. one thing about gojo was he always had something up his sleeve, and part of you knew where this was headed.

when his rough hands gripped the waistband of your flimsy skirt, you didn’t complain. actually you found yourself wanting more, longing for more.

“y’gonna let me get a taste baby? missed her s’much,” soft lips trailed up your thigh— leaving small bite imprints on the flesh. this was his way of staking his claim on you, marking you as his and only his.

you couldn’t stop the shaky sigh that fell from your lips, or the silent nod you gave to your ex-boyfriend for him to continue.

the grin that spread across his face was taunting almost, and intimidating. when that skirt of yours was out of the way, gojo moved on to the black-lace panties. his personal favorite.

“so what, you wearin’ these for other people now?” the fucking nerve of you, he couldn’t believe this. to stoop that low.. well that just won’t do. it seems like he had a few things to correct now that he was back. “fuckin’ answer me. be a good girl for me, yeah?”

your eyes locked with his and all you saw was silent fury, you could tell he was pissed. “not wearing them for anybody toru. just didn’t have any clean ones,”

a lazy grin covered his face at the remembrance of his old nickname, the way it fell from your lips so softly always managed to send heat straight to his dick.

he finally got his girl back.

faint kisses to your cunt had your legs shaking in anticipation— and the soft gasp that left your lips did nothing but egg gojo on as his tongue met your aching clit.

“pussy’s still fuckin’ pretty as ever,” with a low voice his eyes were closed shut, in hopes to savor every last bit of you. when his hands came up to your thighs he couldn’t resist the urge to spread them even further.

the man wanted to explore every inch of you since it’s been so long. so so long since he’s spent some personal time with that pretty pussy of yours.

“w..wait- fuck toru!” you whined when his lips found their way to your pulsing clit, folding his tongue up and down the gooey slit.

his assault to your pussy didn’t stop there. next his thumb was sliding down your sticky folds, not stopping until it was past your tight walls.

your mouth fell open at the intrusion. his thumb wasn’t long but it was thick, causing a bigger stretch than you’d expected.

“so good. taste’s s’good princess,” gojo mindlessly babbled, every word sending vibrations straight to your pussy.

gojo felt like he was out of his body. out of his mind, and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. just what the fuck were you doing to him?

finally fed up with the throbbing ache in his pants he latched onto your clit for a third time, giving it one last kiss before pulling away.

the man couldn’t wait any longer— he needed to be inside you, and he needed it now. before you knew it he was sliding off his sweats and everything underneath it, leaving him completely exposed.

your pussy throbbed just from the sight of him.. you didn’t know how much longer you could wait either.

“don’t worry mama, im ready for ya’.” a low chuckle left his throat when he saw you were just as desperate as him. “you ready for me?”

his blue eyes met your low ones when he slapped his tip against your folds. next he was sliding inside of your pulsing hole with ease, forcing your mouth open.

“o..oh my gosh!“ you winced at the familiar stretch, your walls involuntarily clenched around his dick— trying to push him out.

“n..no- fuck. none of that, y’hear me?” gojo whimpered at the feel of being squeezed, he couldn’t even move you were squeezing him so tight.

the man hovered over you, lips grazing your ear as he coaxed you. “let me in baby, you can do it. i know you can,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around your neck and resting it there.

his words of encouragement had you opening up quicker than he expected, and with every second he was inching deeper into your pussy. gojo felt like he was in a dream— or better yet, on cloud 9. after all that time you still feel the exact same, heavenly.

his strokes were gentle at first, but they sped up when he realized how long he was away from you. a whole year.. never again.

“n..never ever gonna let you keep this shit from me again.” gojo groaned with an edge in his voice that you couldn’t recognize.

your shaky hands wasted no time sliding under his shirt, feeling on the happy trail that covered his v-line. “not gonna take it away toru, ‘s all yours!”

gojo grinned at your words as he pressed onto your lower stomach. with his free hand he gripped onto the back of your thighs and brung your freshly done feet up to his mouth.

his lips wrapped around your toe— eyes locking with yours as he sucked on it. his strokes only got deeper, and you whimpered at all the different sensations at once.

“‘m not gonna pull out,” he admitted as he switched from sucking to leaving small kisses on your foot. “gonna cum so deep in this pretty pussy. never gonna leave me again.”

you were so out of it. drool everywhere, hair messy, tear stained cheeks.. anything gojo said went in one ear and out the other. the man could do whatever, you didn’t care.

“mm yes, don’t pull out. want it s’bad, fill me up please!” small whines filled your throat when you felt a familiar pressure in your abdomen, your pussy wrapping around him even tighter than before. how was this even possible?

gojo’s pace got faster, strokes sloppier.. he was slowly but surely losing all the sense of control he once had before. “f..fuckk ‘m gonna cum toru, so close!”

you gasped when his thumb flicked your clit, looking up at the blue eyes that never left your frame. your legs shook in overstimulation and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it in.

“let it out mama, you’re okay. gimme all of it- shit.” he hissed as his dick twitched at how tight you were squeezing. “fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna be such a pretty mama. s..such a pretty wifey, all f’me.”

you threw your head back as chills covered your entire body. the both of you were completely out of touch with reality, not caring about anything but the feeling of one another.

“‘m cumming toru! mhmm ‘m cumming,” you exclaimed, bringing your hand to his stomach. it wasn’t long before the built-up pit in your stomach finally snapped, coating his dick in a ring of your juices.

gojo was close behind you, a whimpering mess as his stomach tightened. before he knew it he was filling you up— spilling his load inside of you, not a drop to be wasted.

“f..fuck yeah. take it mama, it’s all yours. all for you.. gotta give you everything.” he chanted praises as he gave you one last stroke, pushing his cum even deeper into you where it belonged.

your voice was shaky when he called you, so shaky that at first you thought you wouldn’t be able to respond. but even so, you did.

“you’re never leaving me again, understand?” the edge in his voice was back, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach do flips.

“yes toru, i understand.”

if there’s anything you learned from this at all.. it’s that you could never leave a man like gojo satoru.

©rissouu 2025 (this one’s for dulce y’all so thank her, it took me forever *sigh*)

[sanni276]

*Tim and Kon sitting on one of the couches in Titan's Tower*

*Kon suddenly turning to Tim*: Tim my best bro, you need to help me.

Tim: Sure. What's going on?

Kon: There is this guy I really really like but I just don't know how to tell him because everytime I flirt with him he thinks I am just joking and whenever I ask him to go out, just the two of us he answers me with: "Oh! This and this friend will love that! We should totally all go together.".

Tim internally freaking out: He likes guys? He likes a specific guy? Wait, does this mean I could have a chance with him? No, that's stupid he already said he likes someone else. Does this mean that I'm not even an option when Kon likes guys? No why am I only thinking about what this means for me? I am a horrible friend and-

Tim externally: Well what exactly do you like about him?

Kon *with a soft smile*: Everything. He's smart, somehow handsome and pretty at the same time, he is strong and good at fighting and sometimes he does things that just infuriate me and we argue but he is probably the best thing that ever happend to me and if he asked me to become supervillains and take over the world with him I would so without a seond thought.

Tim *literally crying on the inside because he's pretty sure he could be all of these things if he tried*: Then tell him that. After that say something like "I really like you and wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me sometime" If he still doesn't get it after all that then he is probably just not interested in you but too nice to outright say it.

Kon suddenly seriously looking Tim in the eyes: Tim, you are smart, somehow the most handsome and prettiest man i have laid my eyes upon at the same time, you are strong and and so good at everything you do and Rao you infuriate me sometimes but I wouldn't change anything about you for the world because you were there every single time I needed someone and I'm afraid ou are my favourite person and that I would sacrifice everything for you. You are my biggest weakness. My Kryptonite. I really really like you, and wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me sometime.

Tim: Yeah. Just like that. I'm sure whoever this mystery guy is will instantly fold. Sorry Kon, I think you're gonna have to excuse me now because Bruce wants me back in Gotham.

*Tim runs away to cry in his room and then mope about his crush for the next 2-17 buisness days*

Kon left behind head in his hands: Dude...Just tell me if you don't like me.

Kon is completly convinced that Tim knows how he feels since he is literally the best detective in the world (Yes. Even better than Batman) and there is absolutely no way he didn't get Kon's confession. Tim does infact not know.

Much to the infuriation and pain of everyone that somehow knows them it takes them another three weeks to realize their feelings are mutual and in fat not unrequited.

Except Cassandra: She had guessed the date excactly right and she won a lot of money. (there was a betting pool)

[acynicalsweetheart]

DOWN IN A HOLE

pairing: dad!jimmy x fem!reader x uncle!curly

word count: 2.4k

dead dove do not eat: 18+, daddy-daughter incest, pseudo-incest, mild dub-con, coercion, daddy kink, breeding kink, age gap, double penetration, anal, sex, implied/referenced rape, very brief jimcurly cameo

author's note: wow this sucks LMFAO. umm first attempt at writing jimmy… assholes r not my typical area of expertise so. take it with a grain of salt. feel like he has an uncharacteristically big mouth here LOL. did not mean to make it this long it was originally a drabble… read cws + any interaction/feedback appreciated as always!!

“Jim... isn’t she your daughter?”

Curly’s dumbfounded, jaw dropped to the floor, standing in the middle of the dank motel room not knowing where he should look to remain respectful—Jimmy or his own flesh and blood in a flimsy lingerie set. 

Not exactly what he had in mind when Jimmy said he had a gift for him. 

This is all too fucking wrong, Jimmy’s your dad, you’re one thin and translucent piece of underwear away from standing completely naked in front of both of them, he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder like he’s your pimp. He wants Curly to fuck you. 

It’s sick and twisted and morbid and Curly’s dick is hard. 

“Yeah, so?” Jimmy pinches your cheek and you flinch ever so slightly, put on your best forced smile. “Never once said no to taking daddy’s dick, did you, baby?” 

You shake your head. 

(It’s a blatant lie—Jimmy remembers the bloodfest on the sheets your first time, the way you screamed dad, no and dad, stop at the top of your lungs. The way your face contorted, ugly sobbing turning your eyes swollen and puffy like your cunt, his cock coated in all sorts of questionable fluids by the time he was done with you.)

“See? All good here, man.” He says, shaking you a little by the grip on your shoulder. 

“Jimmy, I...” Curly pinches the bridge of his nose, rubs his forehead like he’s trying to assess if this entire thing is a dream or not. Would help alleviate the guilty boner in his pants by a little if it were. 

He peeks at you through the cracks of his fingers. 

“Come on,” Jimmy’s scowl returns in a second, gesturing to your body. “You’re really gonna reject her when she’s right in front of you? Thought you were better than that, Curly.”

It’s so wrong—Curly’s known you almost as long as he’s known Jimmy. He’s watched you grow up, babysat you, let you crash at his place, showed up to every one of your graduations because Jimmy couldn’t. He hung out with you just last week, for God’s sake. 

Curly’s dick twitches like it’s trying to escape his pants and fuck you on its own. 

Jimmy shrugs, starts undoing your top and letting it drop to the floor. He gropes your tits and bile burns in the back of Curly’s throat like ethanol. “Well, if you don’t want a piece, then you’re free to watch. Shame you gotta break my girl’s heart like this.”

“Jim, I’m not trying to—“

Jimmy pinches your nipple mechanically and you whine, stand there and take it like it’s a daily occurrence. “She’s been asking for you, you know.”

Curly falters, his heart dropping straight down to his ass, “she has?” 

“Yeah, won’t shut up about Uncle Curly’s dick, how much she likes you,” Jimmy scoffs, “how she wants you to take her second virginity.” Second virginity? 

“Really?” He smooths his hair back, sheepishly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck like a schoolgirl. 

Jimmy whispers something to you, sends you off to where Curly’s standing with a tap on the ass. You reach out for his hand to place it on your breast and he cups it gently, sneaking glances at Jimmy from behind you in case he changes his mind.

You speak for the first time tonight, “Uncle Curly.”

“Sweetheart,” he lowers his voice, “are you sure you—“

The bottoms of your lingerie set fall to the floor silently, sheer fabric sticky with what is presumably your slick. Curly gawks like an idiot, cheeks flaming hot, eyes raking up your legs until they meet your pussy. 

He thinks he hears Jimmy snicker in the background. 

You keep your eyes on Curly as you saunter to the bed, getting on all fours and arching your back low, spreading yourself open for your dad and your proclaimed uncle to behold. 

“Uncle Curly...” he makes eye contact with your spread holes, your pussy drooling onto the sheets, leaking down your thighs. “It’s okay, I want this,” you say with the enthusiasm of a sex ring traffickee. 

Fuck it. 

He looks over at Jimmy, takes a deep breath and complies. 

Stupid ol’ Curly. Falling for each and every one of his lies like he falls for gambling scams, and Jimmy’s the broke one here. 

Jimmy’s been in all of your holes. There isn’t a single square inch of your body that doesn’t have his fingerprints burned into it. What can he say? Jimmy made you so he owns you, simple as that. Took your anal virginity approximately a week after he took your actual one. The look on your face is welcomely ingrained into his mind, looked like you were one second away from biting the dust. 

You could be his sister, his mother, a clerk at the store or a street whore for all he cares—Jimmy would fuck you all the same. 

Curly should be grateful that Jimmy’s offering him a sweet piece of meat, his meat. It’s not every day somebody, let alone the grandiose Curly, gets an opportunity to stick his dick in Jimmy’s daughter. 

(More so every three days, when he needs some cash for a pack of smokes he’ll pimp you out to whoever. They pay higher when you’re dressed in white and wearing pigtails. Sick fucks.)

He lets Curly play with your pussy until enough’s enough, shedding his clothes and maneuvering you on top of him. Front to front with Jimmy ‘cause he doesn’t want you giving Curly your puppy eyes and making him all sappy, start feeling bad for you. Invoke some sort of saviour complex. 

The only saving you need is Jimmy’s dick—daddy knows best. Daddy fucks you the best. 

He’s simply being a good friend to Curly.

You shower Jimmy’s face in kisses and he whips his dick out, grabbing the fat of your cheeks till it spills past his fingertips. Gives you a couple spanks for good measure, makes you moan. 

“Such a filthy little slut, aren’t you? So wet for dad,” Jimmy slaps his tip against your entrance, sticky noises echoing throughout the room. You tilt your head as your breath hitches, looking at Jimmy like he forgot something. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “and Uncle Curly.” 

Who is still fully fucking clothed by the way.

Wagging your ass at Curly, you giggle and look back at him, very likely giving him fuck-me eyes. It works, ‘cause he seems to get the hint that he should undress. This is exactly why Jimmy needs you facing himself and nobody else. 

Jimmy’s dick is harder than a rock, it’s not gonna sit there and watch you and Uncle Curly like some miserable third-wheel. The drop of pre running down the length of his shaft is all he needs to force himself into your tight cunt with a single push of his hips. 

“Daddy...” You whine like it hurts and Jimmy grins, makes him feel nostalgic.

The mattress dips when Curly gets on the bed, big ass fucking horse thighs trapping you and Jimmy beneath him. Nevermind the horse thighs, Curly has a fucking horse cock. Yeah, this is the first and last time he’s ever catering to your whims. 

Jimmy keeps thrusting up into you like he’s got something to prove. 

Curly’s cock pokes and prods at your tighter hole, takes a good minute for him to begin sliding inside and you yelp like you’re being impaled. Curly can’t be that big, you’re just putting on a show like Jimmy told you to. 

“Mm,” your teeth sink into your bottom lip, so pretty Jimmy’s grateful Curly can’t see your face right now. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby.” Please. Curly wishes you were his baby. 

He feels Curly’s dick moving against his inside of you and it’s all very unsexy, but Jimmy will be damned if he’s gonna empty his balls elsewhere. Men have needs. Sometimes those needs happen to come in the form of fucking one’s daughter and Jimmy is completely fine with that. 

“Oh my,” your eyes flutter shut, pressing back against him, faking it till you’re making it. “Uncle Curly, you’re so big...”

Fondly, Curly chuckles, “I guess I am.”

You’re really laying it on thick, Jimmy didn’t tell you to do that. 

“Dad’s bigger, baby. Can’t you feel it?” He shoves your face into his neck, stretching you open with his pistoning hips like it’s the first time all over again. Your squeals come out muffled, voice vibrating against his skin. 

The way his tip bumps your fleshy cervix with every trust should be enough proof. Curly’s pace is slow and soft, he’s not even all the way in yet. Or maybe Jimmy really is bigger. 

“C’mon, Curls,” Jimmy pants, voice almost a growl as he tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his dampening body. “No time to be a pussy, you’re in her ass.” 

“Not a pussy, just... starting out slow.” Curly says calmly, gentlemanly—to no avail ‘cause you’re already cockdrunk. 

“Fuck her harder.” It’s a dare, a challenge, or a simple suggestion. He’s giving pointers to a significantly more well-adjusted peer. Jimmy says and Curly does nonetheless, he wonders if Curly would backflip off a building if Jimmy told him to. 

Finally, Curly picks up his pace, fucking your ass the way it’s meant to be fucked. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room and for a moment, Jimmy is okay with this entire thing. 

“My girl likes it rough, dontcha, baby?” Jimmy asks, drilling himself as deep as he can go into your pussy. All you do is moan and whine—nonstop ‘cause they won’t let you have a second of air. “Yeah, you do.”

“Daaaad!”

“Fuck, dirty girl,” Jimmy grunts into your hair, hand on the back of your head forcing your face deeper into his neck where you’re making a mess of spit and snot and tears. “You like dad’s cock that much, huh?”

He doesn’t ask about Curly’s cock, if Jimmy wants to know if you like Curly’s cock then Uncle Curly will have to ask you himself. Seems too preoccupied with holding back his moans, though. 

Your whines come out choppy, muffled by Jimmy’s neck, every jackhammer into your sloppy cunt and ass punching the wind right out of you.

“That’s right,” Jimmy makes eye contact with Curly, fucking you even harder to assert dominance, dick-to-dick and ball-to-ball with his best friend. Your walls clamp down around him, “so go on, cum on it. You know you wanna.”

You shake and thrash in his hold, legs twitching as you mumble incoherently. Jimmy feels your body go still, gushing bursts of squirt all over the place, soaking everyone and everything in sight—orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. 

He fucks you through it. 

You must’ve been squeezing real tight around Curly as well, ‘cause he falls on top of you and Jimmy, hands gripping the sheets next to Jimmy’s head like they’re the ones fucking. Curly’s mouth is hanging open, panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. A drop of his sweat lands on Jimmy. 

It’s disgusting how much he looks like a fucking playboy bunny, straight out of a raunchy magazine page. For a second, this intrusive image passes through Jimmy’s head—his dick buried to the hilt inside of Curly instead of you. 

He feels his balls tightening and he wants to kill himself right then and there. 

“Gonna take daddy’s cum?” 

“Such a good girl, sweetheart,” sunshine boy chimes in, like he’s been reading Dirty Talk 101 during the time they’ve been two-manning you, “take it, take both of our loads.” 

“Y’hear that? Gonna take Uncle Curly’s load deep in your ass, huh?” Jimmy keeps his noises down in his throat, struggling to not groan at the way you have a fucking death grip on his dick. “And daddy’s in your pussy?”

Yes, yes, yes—

Jimmy fucks you hard, rough, mean. He keeps going till he shoots his cum deep in your cunt, till he feels Curly stiffening up, following suit with his orgasm and a loud ass fucking moan while he’s at it. Grand exit. 

Curly presses a quick kiss to your head before pulling out of you with a sloppy pop! and flopping down next to you and Jimmy. 

Jimmy stays inside of you, feeling his own cum dripping down his length. You’re lying boneless on his chest, mascara ruined, staining your cheeks—face the perfect aftermath of a good, thorough fucking. 

You and Curly gaze at each other lovingly, reaching out your hands to intertwine your fingers like Jimmy isn’t right there. He’d cuck Curly here and now if his nicotine addiction wasn’t wearing him out. 

You all stay like that for a while, panting and wondering what you’re supposed to make of this. 

You’re out like a light, naked and alone in bed with two thick, white creampies dripping out of your holes, soaking the sheets. 

They step outside, Curly shuts the door carefully and Jimmy lights a cigarette, shoe against the wall as he leans on it. 

Curly’s hands are shoved in his denim pockets, curls still damp and sweaty as his head hangs low. He tilts his head back then, watches Jimmy smoke for a minute.

“So,” Curly breaks the silence between them, speaking over the chirps of the cicadas in the night. “That was... uh...”

Is he going to acknowledge the fact that they fucked Jimmy’s daughter or the subtly homoerotic undertones of it? 

“Don’t talk,” he blows a cloud of smoke straight into Curly’s face when he opens his mouth, makes Curly stifle a cough and Jimmy a chuckle. “Gonna need some money to get out of town for a while.” It’s part true and partly ‘cause Jimmy let him have a go at you. 

“Yeah.” Curly rubs his chin thoughtfully, reaching for his wallet and plucking out a few bills, “yeah, of course.”

Jimmy grabs the cash, crumpling them with his sweaty hands as he walks off. He cranes his neck to salute Curly goodbye, gets a nod back and that’s that. 

Trucker cap on and pick-up engine revving, he takes off. To where? Jimmy doesn’t know. Away. Crawl out of one hole and into another. You’re Curly’s responsibility for the moment. Checked in on his behalf.

Jimmy knows Curly won’t tell. 

[thebunnednun]

Not On My Watch!

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Spice 18+, Wc: 20K+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: Katsuki can't sit still after seeing a video of you, his WIFE, getting her feet massaged by another man.

Tw: Sweet then spicy, lots of making out, pet names smut, free use, slight body worship, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, sexy slave mention, (both f! & m! recieving/giving), vaginal fingering, pussy play, multiple orgasms (both), ass play, groping, biting, creampie, dumbification, slight breeding mention, predictor and prey, anal, spanking, petnames - mdni (like my whole tumblr), cursing, dirty talk, care and love is given.

You've been warned.

When I say aged up I mean mid 20's early thirties.

Inspired by this short, Give her some love too plz, she's so funny<3

Read the note below afterwards. Lets get into it.

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. You stirred slowly, the warmth of the covers cocooning you in a comforting embrace. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, you became aware of the quiet hum of the world outside. Stretching lazily, your hand reached out to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty.

A small, knowing smile crept onto your lips.

The sheets were cool to the touch, a clear sign that Katsuki had left early. Yet, the faint scent of his caramel lingered in the air, and you were certain you’d been given a kiss goodbye before he slipped out for his shift. It was just like him to leave quietly, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest after the rough night you’d had.

You and Katsuki have been married for just shy of a year, a whirlwind romance culminating in a partnership that felt as natural as breathing. Life as a pro hero was demanding, but the rough shift you had last night was enough to leave you craving a bit of solace and pampering. Your body ached in places you’d forgotten could ache, and your mind was still clouded with the remnants of exhaustion. 

Glancing around the room, your gaze drifting over the familiar details that made up your shared space. The nightstand on his side held a few scattered items. His phone charger, a half-empty bottle of water, and the book you'd convinced him to start reading—though he'd grumbled about it, he was already five chapters in. On your side, a small vase of fresh flowers brightened the room, a surprise Katsuki had brought home just days ago.

The bedroom was a reflection of your life together—simple yet filled with thoughtful touches. The neutral tones of the bedding were offset by pops of color from the pillows and the soft throw blanket draped over the chair in the corner. The faintest scent of lemons drifted from the open window, mingling with the crisp, clean air of the early day.

You sighed contentedly, sinking back into the pillows for a moment longer. The day stretched ahead, filled with the promise of relaxation and self-care. You fumbled around the sheets for a moment before finding and scrolling through your phone. The girls had recommended a new nail salon that recently opened downtown, promising it was the perfect place to unwind. It sounded like exactly what you needed. With a few quick taps, you shot a text to Katsuki.

Princess Peach: I’m heading to the new nail salon the girls told me about. It's my day off, so I'll meet you after your shift. I love you!

You leaned back against the pillows, waiting for his reply. It didn’t take long.

Teddy Bear: Fine with me. Send the amount when you’re close to done. 

Teddy Bear: Love you too.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. Even through the screen, his gruffness had a way of making you feel cared for. You could practically hear the way his voice softened just at the end, a rare tenderness he reserved only for you. You stretched languidly under the plush covers, the scent of fresh sheets wafting through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

The soft cocoon of the bed beckoned you to stay, but the promise of a new day lured you from its embrace. Stretching luxuriously, you swung your legs over the edge, a smile curling on your lips as your eyes landed on the familiar pair below—your favorite bunny slippers, perfectly placed right where Katsuki knew your feet would touch the floor. The sight of them warmed your heart, a simple yet thoughtful gesture that never failed to remind you of his care.

Slipping your feet into the plush slippers, you padded across the room, the cool hardwood floor transitioning to the soft rug beneath your toes. You reached for your robe—a cherry red one that you loved—draped neatly over the armchair by the window. Wrapping it snugly around yourself, you headed towards the bathroom, the early morning light spilling in through the windows casting a gentle glow across the room.

The bathroom mirrored the tranquil elegance of the bedroom, with its sleek marble countertops and soft, ambient lighting. You grabbed your toothbrush, applying a dab of minty toothpaste before brushing your teeth. The refreshing burst of mint awakened your senses, each stroke a familiar routine preparing you for the day ahead.

Finished, you made your way down the hallway, the sound of your slippers muffled against the polished wood floors. The house was a sanctuary of calm and order, and as you moved through it, the faint scent of caramel and lemons drifted through the air, a delightful blend that made you breathe deeply, savoring the homey aroma.

Descending the luxury staircase, each step a smooth glide, you were greeted by the sight of your home sparkling clean, every surface gleaming under the morning sun. It was as if the house itself had been rejuvenated overnight. You reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left, stepping into the large living room. The space was a testament to your combined tastes, a harmonious blend of comfort and style.

Every detail had been meticulously curated. The soft, oversized couches adorned with plush throw pillows in your favorite shades; the coffee table, a sleek bookshelf holding a few well-loved novels and a vase of fresh flowers; the walls lined with art pieces and pictures that shared stories of your adventures together. The curtains and blinds had been drawn open, allowing the sunlight to pour in through every window, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. The light danced across the floor, creating shifting patterns that added an almost ethereal beauty to the scene.

You took a moment to bask in the tranquility, the serene atmosphere filling you with a sense of gratitude. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the love and care that filled your home, that you felt truly at peace.

Leaving the living room, you made your way to the heart of the house: Suki’s kitchen. This space, unlike the others, was a reflection of Katsuki’s meticulous tastes. Every element, from the colors to the layout, bore his signature style and passion for precision.

The kitchen was a modern marvel of design and functionality. The counters were crafted from sleek black and white marble, their polished surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of the high ceiling lights you had insisted upon—strategically placed to prevent anyone from bumping their head. The deep oak wood cabinets, a rich contrast against the lighter counters, lined the walls, offering ample storage space while adding a touch of rustic warmth.

Appliances gleamed in their stainless steel glory, each one carefully chosen for its efficiency and aesthetic appeal. There were double ovens built seamlessly into the wall, perfect for Katsuki’s ambitious culinary endeavors. Two large sinks sat on opposite ends of the room, each with a state-of-the-art faucet, allowing for the kind of multitasking that your husband thrived on. Off to the side, a pre-kitchen area was tucked away, an extension for more intricate prep work or storing additional cookware.

The pantry was a thing of beauty, fully stocked and alphabetized, a testament to Katsuki’s need for order. Every item had its place, and the fridge—oh, the fridge—was a sleek, modern design that allowed you to see inside without opening it, displaying its contents like a prized collection. It was stocked to perfection, everything arranged just so, with little notes stuck here and there, a system you both found oddly satisfying.

As you moved through the kitchen, you couldn’t help but remember the construction phase. The flurry of contractors and delivery teams bustling about, bringing in appliances and asking a stream of questions. Each time, you’d simply pointed to your scowling husband, letting them know it was his call. His initial gruffness was often met with hesitation, but you knew better. He might have stomped around, inspecting every detail with a critical eye, grumbling under his breath, but you stayed by his side. Your presence eased his social anxiety, allowing him to communicate on creating the space he had envisioned.

He was your gremlin, your wonderfully stubborn, exacting gremlin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Every detail of this kitchen was a testament to his love for perfection, and standing here now, in the heart of your home, you felt a wave of affection for the man who had poured his heart into making this space a sanctuary. A small smile played on your lips as you noticed the neat plate left on the stove, a thoughtful note from Katsuki propped up against the fridge.

Use the toaster oven to reheat your food so it doesn’t ruin the taste. See you soon. - K

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing over the words before you reached for the plate. Despite Katsuki’s well-meaning instructions, you decided to eat the food lukewarm, not wanting to lose the initial burst of flavor. A little mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you purposefully smudged a bit of syrup on the microwave door,(The very one you had to fight tooth and nail for!) Knowing he would sense something amiss in this kitchen before he even stepped through the door and would get worked up until he realized what happened. 

Breakfast satisfied and your mind already envisioning the day ahead, you sauntered back up the stairs and into the bathroom. The warm water cascaded over your body, washing away the remnants of fatigue from the previous night's shift. You reveled in the tranquility, the gentle hum of the water a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

Wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel, you padded over to the walk-in closet, your eyes lighting up at the sight of your favorite two-piece sweat suit. The soft fabric hugged you comfortably, a perfect blend of style and ease. You grabbed your purse, the anticipation of a pampering session at the new nail salon buzzing in your veins.

Today was your day, and you were ready to indulge in it fully.

You grabbed your Juicy Couture purse from its spot by the door, the soft leather gleaming under the light as you slung it over your shoulder. A moment of contemplation followed as you pondered which car to take—your sleek options lined up in the garage, a reflection of both yours and Katsuki's tastes. With a playful smile, you decided on the pearl white BMW, its elegant curves and smooth handling making it the perfect choice for the day.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you reveled in the luxurious feel of the leather against your skin, the familiar hum of the engine purring to life beneath your fingers. The drive to your favorite café was quick and leisurely, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the streets. You pulled into the drive-thru, placing your order with a smile, and soon enough, a perfectly crafted drink was in your hands, the aroma rich and inviting.

With your drink in the cup holder, you headed toward the upscale salon and mall area, finding a convenient spot in the parking lot. Leaning back in your seat, you sipped your drink leisurely, the peaceful ambiance of the morning settling over you. The salon, with its chic exterior and promise of indulgence, awaited just beyond. Savoring the last few moments of quiet, you allowed yourself to relax fully, the anticipation of the pampering session making the day feel all the more luxurious.

Omg, the girls weren’t lying. 

The salon was a haven of tranquility, a serene escape from the relentless pace of hero duties���a sanctuary where the burdens of the day could be set aside, even if just for a while. As you stepped inside, the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, instantly easing the tension in your shoulders. The interior exuded understated elegance, with soft, muted tones that created a calming atmosphere. The decor was a harmonious blend of chic and cozy, featuring pastel walls, plush chairs, and ambient lighting that bathed the room in a soft, inviting glow. Every detail was thoughtfully curated to evoke a sense of peace and relaxation.

A warm smile from the receptionist greeted you, and soon you were escorted to a luxurious chair. As you sank into the plush seat, a technician approached with a menu of beverages. You selected a refreshing iced cherry soda, the vibrant hot pink drink a perfect complement to the tranquil surroundings. The cool, sweet flavor was a delightful contrast to the warmth of the spa treatments awaiting you, a sensory experience that promised rejuvenation.

Settling in, you allowed yourself to be enveloped by the calm ambiance. The gentle hum of quiet conversations and soft music provided a soothing backdrop as you prepared to indulge in this well-deserved moment of self-care.

The experience was nothing short of divine. The nail technician's gentle hands worked wonders, massaging your tired fingers and shaping your nails with meticulous care. You found yourself recording snippets of the process, a habit born from those middle school days when you and Denki had decided to try your hand at becoming influencers. Despite the demanding life of a pro hero, you still cherished these moments of creativity, sharing slices of your life with a loyal following.

The soft hum of conversation, the soothing music, and the indulgence of the pampering session left you in a state of bliss. You felt rejuvenated, every muscle relaxed, and a newfound energy coursing through your veins.

As you shifted to the pedicure station, you were greeted by a young man with a friendly smile. His easy demeanor put you at ease as you settled into the comfortable chair. When you asked for a cute French tip, he nodded confidently, assuring you he could handle it. You leaned back, savoring the calm atmosphere, a book open in your lap as he got to work.

The salon was mostly empty, allowing for a tranquil silence to settle over the space. You alternated between reading and capturing small moments on your phone, careful not to distract the young man too much. His focus was intense, and his movements were precise, a testament to his skill.

However, it wasn’t long before you noticed something… different. 

His hands moved with expert precision, but the way he was massaging your feet felt more akin to a deep tissue massage than a standard pedicure. His fingers pressed into the arches of your feet, kneading away tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. The strength in his grip was undeniable, and you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his company t-shirt as he worked with dedication.

A blush crept up your neck, and you quickly switched your phone’s camera to record your reaction. Your face, caught between flustered and perplexed, filled the screen. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the slight widening of your eyes and the subtle twitch of your lips betrayed your surprise.

"Y’all, why is this man rubbing my feet like I don’t have a husband!"

Is what you captioned the video with a playful smirk before sending it off to the girls' group chat, hoping to share the humorous moment with your friends. With a sigh, you set your phone aside and tried to focus on your book, determined to relax despite the unexpectedly thorough massage.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that in your haste, you had accidentally sent the video to Katsuki.

Who, unbeknownst to you, was just finishing up his morning shift. 

The locker room buzzed with the usual post-training banter, laughter echoing off the walls as the group of friends wrapped up their routines. Katsuki was methodically stowing his gear, his face set in a determined scowl as he prepared to clock out for his half-day. The hum of casual conversation filled the space, Denki lounging nearby with Katsuki's phone in hand as he played Crossy road.

A notification lit up Katsuki’s screen, and Denki, ever the curious one, leaned over his chair with a sly grin. "Hey, man, that’s from your wife!" Denki said, his eyes gleaming with intrigue as he caught a glimpse of the video thumbnail.

Sero and Mina, not ones to miss out on the fun, sidled up next to Denki. "Oooo," they chorused teasingly, exchanging grins as Mina leaned closer to get a better look. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, slamming his locker door shut with a decisive clang.

"Don’t be weird," Katsuki growled, his voice low and edged with annoyance. 

His sharp eyes narrowed as Kami opened the message, the video playing in his hand. The sight of the young man’s hands on your feet, combined with your flustered expression and teasing caption, sent a surge of possessiveness through him.

Katsuki’s lips curled into a familiar scowl, the kind that sent shivers down the spines of villains. The familiar itch to protect and assert making his steps quicker as he made his way out. He knew you were at the salon, enjoying your day off, but now he had a sudden, burning need to make his presence known.

He grabbed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, but not before Denki pulled his own phone out and made quick work of showing the video to Mina.

She squealed in delight, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "She’s at that salon! The one we recommended to her!" Mina said, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Kirishima, who had been tying his shoes nearby, perked up at the mention. "Do they do pedicures?" he asked, his tone curious. He caught the raised eyebrow from Sero and held up his hands defensively. 

"Hey, good foot hygiene is important for men too!"

Sero snickered, but nodded in agreement. "You got a point."

Katsuki, meanwhile, was grumbling under his breath, his patience thinning with each passing second. The thought of someone else touching you, coupled with the playful video you’d sent, made his protective instincts flare.

"Mina, where’s the salon?" he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent.

Denki, ever helpful, fished out the name from the video you’d posted on your story before she could ask why. He sent it over without missing a beat, the group watching with mild amusement as Katsuki’s scowl deepened.

"I’ll see you all tomorrow," Katsuki barked, his tone leaving no room for discussion as he turned on his heel and strode out of the locker room. Kirishima’s brows shot up, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Whoa. He never says goodbye like that," he remarked, glancing at the others.

Sero crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Something serious must be happening," he mused, nodding toward the door Katsuki had just stormed through. Mina clasped her hands together, her grin mischievous. "Whatever it is, you know Bakugo’s gonna handle it in his own way." Denki snickered, slinging an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. "Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. Hope the salon survives Katsuki’s visit."

“Maybe he’s finally gonna take care of those dogs of his.”

“Es un animal con ropa puesta.”

The group shared a laugh, each one picturing the storm that was sure to unfold with Katsuki on a mission.

—

The hum of the salon was soothing, a gentle rhythm of soft chatter and the occasional clink of tools as the nail technicians worked their magic.

You were reclining comfortably, your attention drifting between the subtle aroma of the lavender-scented air and the meticulous artistry unfolding before you. The young nail technician was expertly applying a baby pink French tip to your nails, each stroke so precise it felt as if he’d spent a lifetime mastering the craft. A small crowd of other technicians gathered nearby, watching with quiet admiration as he worked.

You were mid-way through admiring his steady hand when the faint chime of the doorbell caught your ear. At first, it barely registered, your focus lingering on the soft curves of the polish being applied. But then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots hitting the tiled floor reverberated through the salon, and a shift in the atmosphere had you glancing up.

There, framed in the doorway, stood your husband, Katsuki Bakugo, in all his formidable glory. His sharp gaze, intense and unwavering, locked onto you instantly. The tight grey T-shirt stretched over his sculpted frame and dark grey jeans—no doubt a product of Best Jeanist's influence—fit him perfectly, accentuating his powerful build. A black jacket thrown over his shoulders completed the look, giving him an effortlessly cool demeanor. His expression, however, was anything but relaxed.

Your heart skipped a beat as you waved at him, a warm smile lighting up your face. "Hi, pookie!" you called out, your voice sweet and affectionate.

"Hi," Katsuki grumbled, his deep voice softened only slightly as his eyes remained fixed on you. He spared a brief glance at the young nail technician, whose confusion was evident as he turned to face the towering figure now standing behind him. The technician quickly returned to his work, muttering something about the session being almost done and how it was a pleasure working with you.

You thanked him for the lovely design, your eyes twinkling with appreciation before turning back to Katsuki, a pout forming on your lips. "Come here," you beckoned, wondering why you hadn’t yet been wrapped in one of his warm, grounding embraces.

Katsuki didn’t hesitate. In a few swift strides, he was by your side, his arms encircling you as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, fervent kiss. The world seemed to blur at the edges, your book, Juicy Couture purse, and phone almost slipping from your grasp as his intensity overwhelmed you. His lips were demanding yet tender, drawing out a soft sigh from you before he pulled back just enough to plant two more kisses on your now-flushed lips.

His hand smoothed over your hair, his touch gentle and grounding. "Ya wanna get your hair done too while I hit the grocery store?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with a softer undertone meant only for you.

You blinked up at him, nodding slowly. "Do you have a specific style in mind?" you asked, curious about his sudden suggestion.

Katsuki shrugged, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "I love your natural hair. If ya wanna go for that, do it. But if yer thinking about something different, go for it." His tone was casual, but the sincerity in his words made your heart swell.

You chuckled softly, recounting that the two of you had an event later in the week. "Maybe I should get a blowout," you mused, already imagining the sleek, polished look.

Without a word, Katsuki pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket and slipped it into your purse, his actions swift and without fanfare. "Get whatever ya want," he said simply, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of affection and determination as he settled into a nearby chair, crossing his arms as if staking his claim on the moment.

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you as you savored his gesture. Katsuki had a way of making you feel cherished and understood, even in the simplest acts. The salon might have been an oasis of calm, but with him there, 

It felt like home.

The nail technician returned with a bottle of lotion, his demeanor professional yet gentle as he began applying it to your feet and legs. The soothing motions were a balm for your tired muscles, and you sighed softly, leaning back into the plush chair. Your slightly rolled-up pants exposed just enough for the technician to work efficiently, but the moment Katsuki’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, you knew things were about to change.

Katsuki shifted in his seat, his gaze locked on the young man’s hands as they moved over your skin. His fists clenched, the tension radiating from him like an impending storm. Finally, he stood, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the technician, who glanced up in surprise.

“Move,” Katsuki ordered, his voice low but unmistakably firm. He didn’t give the younger man time to argue or even process the command before reaching for the bottle of lotion himself.

The nail tech stepped back, his face flushed with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. He mumbled a quick, “Of course,” before retreating a few steps, his eyes darting nervously between you and Katsuki.

Your face heated up as well, caught between amusement and mortification as Katsuki squirted some lotion into his hands, his movements precise and purposeful.

He knelt in front of you, carefully lifting your foot onto his knee, your leg almost touching his clothed chest, and began massaging the lotion into your skin with a familiarity and expertise that only he possessed. His fingers worked magic, kneading away the stress and tension with firm but tender strokes. His ears turned a deep red, betraying his effort to maintain a stoic facade, and he resolutely avoided meeting your gaze.

You bite your lip, your heart pounding in your chest as his touch sends waves of warmth through you. 

Katsuki was thorough, his concentration evident as he ensured every inch of your foot and leg was cared for, before moving to the other leg. His broad hands made the task seem effortless, and yet you could see the faint tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

When he finished, Katsuki reached for the little foam flip-flops, placing them delicately on the floor. He gathered your book, purse, and phone, his actions smooth and efficient. Then, with a gentleness that contrasted with his earlier intensity, he took both of your hands in his, helping you to your feet and guiding you into the flip-flops.

He handed you your belongings momentarily before excusing himself to wash his hands at the nearby sink. You stood there, still somewhat dazed, before turning to the young nail tech with a smile. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a $25 tip, handing it to him with a sincere thank you. He bowed deeply, his face still tinged with color as he expressed his gratitude.

You waddled over to the reception desk, the soft padding of the flip-flops muffling your steps. The receptionist greeted you with a warm smile, and just as you were about to pull out your wallet, Katsuki was there, his platinum black card already in hand. He passed it to the receptionist with a quiet, “Here,” and added a $10 tip to her as well. You smiled, pulling out another $30 to tip the first nail tech before expressing your thanks for the excellent service.

As the receptionist and technicians wished you a good day, you turned to find Katsuki already holding the door open, his gaze softening as he reached for your purse and book. You handed them over without hesitation, your heart fluttering at the small, protective gestures that were so uniquely him.

Before you could take another step, Katsuki scooped you up effortlessly, one arm beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. He held you close, his familiar warmth seeping into you as he stepped outside into the crisp early afternoon air. His stride was purposeful, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection as he carried you toward the car, every bit the overprotective, loving husband you adored.

As Katsuki carried you towards the car, he maneuvered effortlessly, balancing you with one arm as he reached for the passenger door handle with the other. The door swung open, but before he could set you down, your hands found their way to his head, fingers threading through his ash-blond hair in that tender, familiar way only you could manage.

Your soft touch was magic against his scalp, a soothing caress that sent waves of warmth radiating through his body. Katsuki felt the tingles ripple along his nerves, the sensation making his breath hitch as his knees threatened to buckle under the blissful spell you wove. His face, pressed against your tummy for a fleeting moment, grew hot, a telltale flush that you felt even through the fabric of your clothes.

Carefully, he placed you inside the car, the motion deliberate as he tucked you into the seat, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary. You felt the heat emanating from him, a gentle reminder of his vulnerability in your presence. He leaned over to buckle your seatbelt, his fingers brushing against you with the lightest touch.

You cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms, and leaned in, brushing your nose against his in a soft Eskimo kiss. Katsuki closed his eyes, leaning into the tender gesture, returning it with a gentleness that made your heart ache in the best way. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before making his way around the car to the driver’s seat.

As he slid into his seat, you seized the moment, quickly applying a layer of your favorite strawberry lip gloss. The sweet scent filled the air as you prepped yourself for what you knew was coming. The instant he buckled in, you pounced.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a deep, fervent kiss that left him momentarily stunned. Katsuki’s eyes widened in surprise at your sudden burst of strength and passion, but he quickly melted into it, his lips moving against yours with an equal hunger. He let out a low, muffled sound of approval, his hands finding your waist as he unbuckled your seatbelt, giving you the freedom to shift closer.

You moved fluidly, swinging a leg over to straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips as you settled into his lap. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back and gripping your waist firmly, as if grounding himself in the moment. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with your own as the kiss deepened, both of you lost in the electrifying connection.

Katsuki leaned back into the seat, pulling you with him, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted his head to better meet your lips. His breath was hot against your skin, mingling with the faint taste of strawberry from your gloss. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, a subtle reminder of the strength he held, though in this moment, he seemed entirely at your mercy.

Fucking delicious. 

The world outside the car faded away, leaving only the cocoon of intimacy you shared, every kiss, every touch a testament to the deep bond between you.

Katsuki’s grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your sides with a possessive fervor that sent a thrill shooting through your body. His lips moved with urgency now, a heady mix of passion and need, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your hands, still cradling his face, slid down to his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, a reminder of the raw power he carried so effortlessly.

You arched your lower back, pressing yourself closer, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest. The sound vibrated against your skin, stirring something primal within you. Katsuki's hands roamed lower, one slipping under the hem of your shirt to splay across the bare skin of your lower back, his touch hot and electric. He pulled you even closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps between fervent kisses.

The intensity grew as you shifted in his lap, your hips rocking against him, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Katsuki. His hands roamed freely now, one sliding up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he gazed at you with a heat that made your heart race. The other hand slipped lower, gripping your thigh with a firmness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, laced with desire. The raw honesty in his words ignited something fierce within you, your body responding instinctively as you leaned in to capture his lips once more, your kiss deeper, more demanding.

“I know!~”

Katsuki shifts beneath you, his hands sliding under your thighs as he lifts you slightly, adjusting your position to press you against him even more intimately. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding in time with yours, the air between you thick with unspoken need.

Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently, and he groans, the sound low and primal, sending a ripple of excitement through you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing just enough to send a delicious jolt of sensation, before soothing the spot with a gentle flick of his tongue. The contrast was intoxicating, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Goddamn, baby, you’re perfect," he whispered, his lips trailing along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your body arching into his touch, every nerve ending alight with sensation. His hands moved again, this time slipping under your shirt, his fingertips tracing the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your body.

"Suki," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and anticipation. His name on your lips was all the encouragement he needed as he claimed your mouth once more, the kiss deep and consuming, as if he wanted to devour every inch of you. His hands explored with a confidence and familiarity that left you dizzy, your body responding to his touch as if it were second nature.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Katsuki, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten as the heat between you intensified, leaving you both breathless and utterly consumed.

So you decided to have some fun. 

You pull back, your hands gently but firmly pushing Katsuki back into the chair. His deep vermillion eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and confusion flickering across his face. He stays still for a moment, trying to process your sudden change in demeanor, before narrowing his eyes and attempting to rise again.

So you push his big bodied ass back down. 

Katsuki blinked, still dazed as he found himself pressed back against the seat, your hands firmly on his chest. His eyes search yours, flickering with a mix of confusion, frustration, and something else—something sad. His lips parted as if to speak, but you beat him to it, your voice soft yet teasing.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, your smile playful as you gently pushed him back again when he tried to sit up. His brows furrowed, and he blinked at you, clearly perplexed by your sudden shift in mood.

“Hah?!” he finally managed, his tone edged with irritation, though the confusion remained.

His reaction is sharp, but there's an undertone of bewilderment as he searches your face for answers, clearly unprepared for your unexpected move.

You tilted your head, keeping your smile intact as you poked his cheek gently. “Why are you acting more gremlin-ish than usual? Does this have anything to do with that video I accidentally sent you?”

His gaze sharpened, and he scoffed, turning his head away from you. “Tch, no.” His arms crossed over his chest in a defensive gesture, a barrier between him and the vulnerability you were nudging at.

“Come on, Kats, don’t be like this,” you coaxed, your fingers continuing to poke and prod his face, knowing you were one of the few people he’d ever let touch him like this. You press your first fingers into the soft squish of his apple cheeks before gently tracing over his scar. Katsuki’s jaw tenses, but before you can push further, his hand shoots out, swift as a viper, snatching you up in one fluid motion.

With surprising ease, he shifted you beside him, laying you down in the cramped space of the driver seat, pinning you with his gaze as he hovered slightly over you. His voice low, eyes scanning your face as if reading your every thought.

“Ya wanna go home now or get yer hair done?” 

You pouted, your hands resting on his chest and forearms. “Why can’t you just communicate when it’s obvious you were a little jealous?”

His thumbs pressed into the soft spot on your hip, a subtle reminder of just how dangerous this territory was. His smirk, however, was sharp and knowing.

“You wanna tell me now, or get nothing when we get home?” you teased, your voice a playful challenge.

His eyes narrowed, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he leaned forward. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, try it,” you dared, your grin widening as you watched him wrestle with himself. His gaze flicked back to you, hesitant but defiant. Finally, he huffed, the blush deepening.

“I didn’t like that other man touching all over my wife,” he admitted, his voice gruff, the words almost sticking in his throat.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up. “Katsuki, he wasn’t touching all over me,” you corrected gently. “And I’m not letting up until you look at me.” Reluctantly, he met your gaze, his blush not fading as he sighed. 

“Hi,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice light, affectionate. Leaning up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close. 

“You’re such a cute baby girl when you’re jealous.”

His groan was immediate, a low, rumbling sound as he let his head fall onto your shoulder. “That killed it,” he grumbled, his hands finding your waist as he flipped you over onto him. “You’ve got two choices—here  or yer hair appointment.”

You giggled, pressing your palms against his chest. “Katsuki, we can’t do ‘that’ here.”

“Why not?” he challenged, his fingers tracing the smooth skin of your back and stomach, his hands hot against you.

“For one, it’s public,” you pointed out, shivering as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his mouth continuing its path, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.

“And two,” you continued, your voice breathy, “someone could see us and make a report.”

That, at least, made him pause.

He huffed, frustrated, before burying his face in your neck, his arms tightening around you in a possessive hug. You stroked his hair gently, your fingers threading through the soft strands. “Aw, you big baby,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

His lips curled into a faint smirk against your skin. 

“Hey! No pinching!” you squeaked, feeling the mischievous squeeze on your butt.

“You make it too easy,” he teased, his voice low and warm, his hands settling into a gentler hold as he nuzzled against you, content to bask in your presence despite the lingering frustration.

You pulled back from the kiss, gazing into Katsuki’s eyes, your heart swelling with affection. “You make my life easy,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of gratitude. “Thank you for always taking care of me and being such a good husband.”

A warm smile tugged at Katsuki’s lips, and before you could even process, he was kissing you again. This time, it was more tender, more loving. His left hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle as he leaned into the kiss, his lips molding against yours with a careful, almost reverent pressure. You felt his right arm snake around your waist, pulling you closer, securing you against him, not an ounce of space between your bodies.

Your fingers naturally found their way to his chest, resting over his quickly beating heart. You could feel the steady, fast thrum beneath your fingertips as you traced the spot, watching as he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You sank down into his lap, moving slowly, deliberately, your body settling firmly against his. You tangled your fingers into his soft, spiky hair, feeling the strands between your fingers as you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into the feeling of him beneath you. Your breath evened out, and you let your forehead rest against his, the space between your hearts closing as you intertwined your left hand with his right. You could feel the steady pulse of his heartbeat in his fingertips, and it matched the rhythm of your own.

“Thank you for lettin' me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice hushed and almost reverent.

You stayed like that, your foreheads touching, breaths mingling as time seemed to stand still. You couldn’t help the small, contented smile that tugged at your lips, your fingers lightly tracing the veins running through his hand. There was something so intimate in that simple gesture, in the way you could feel each other’s pulse, the unspoken connection that ran between you. The world outside felt far away, and in this moment, it was just you and Katsuki.

“Awwww!”

The sudden, loud chorus of voices from the outside made both of you freeze, and your hearts skipped a beat. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you both turned toward the window, where the unmistakable faces of Denki, Mina, Sero, and Kirishima were pressed up against the glass, their exaggerated expressions of glee clear even from here.

“OH, YOU GUYS ARE TOO CUTE!” Denki shouted, his grin practically stretching ear to ear, his thumbs up in the air as he made obnoxious “heart” hand gestures.

Mina’s hands were pressed against the glass, her face lighting up as she made kissy faces toward the two of you. “I’m literally dying!” she squealed, fanning herself dramatically. “You two are so cute, oh my god, you’re giving me life!”

Sero, ever the playful one, was pretending to wipe away fake tears, looking utterly overwhelmed. “Look at them! El verdadero amor nunca muere! My heart can’t take it!” he moaned melodramatically.

Kirishima stood behind the others, arms crossed over his chest, his smirk wide and proud. “Yo, that’s my bro! Keep it up, man!” He gave Katsuki a thumbs up, completely unfazed by the fact that you both were clearly caught in a very private moment.

You froze, caught between the shock of being interrupted and the heat that was rapidly rising to your cheeks. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from Katsuki, who had gone completely still, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter, his jaw tightening in that way that meant he was fighting off embarrassment.

You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him like a wave, and you couldn’t help but giggle despite yourself. “Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into his, trying to stifle the laughter that bubbled up. You could feel Katsuki’s face burning against your skin as he growled low in his throat, his body tense beneath you.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiots!” Katsuki barked, though there was an unmistakable, embarrassed edge to his voice. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Denki wasn’t backing down, though. “Oooooh, looks like the big guy’s shy now!” he teased, clearly loving the situation.

“Shut it, stupid,” Katsuki snarled, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of fondness behind his irritation.

You could feel Katsuki’s heartbeat beneath your palm, still racing, as you pressed your lips to his cheek, giving him a soft kiss to reassure him. He huffed but relaxed just a little at the touch, clearly more annoyed at being caught than truly embarrassed.

“Stop staring at us, you perverts,” you called out, though your voice was tinged with laughter. “You’re gonna ruin the moment!”

Mina stuck out her tongue and waved dramatically. “We’re not the ones ruining it,” she teased, her hands still framing her face as she fluttered her lashes at you both. Kirishima gave another hearty laugh. “Hey, don’t worry, man, you two have been together forever, you deserve all the ‘aww’s’!” He threw Katsuki another heart, making the other man growl under his breath.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” you said with a smile, gently pulling away from Katsuki, though his arms tightened around you, not quite ready to let go.

The others backed away from the window, still waving and making kissy faces at you, leaving you and Katsuki in your little bubble of quiet tension. His hands finally released their hold on your waist, but his fingers lingered for a second, as if unwilling to fully let go. You turned to him with a grin, brushing your lips against his jaw.

“Home now?” you teased, voice full of warmth and amusement, feeling that familiar pull between you both, even with the entire world watching.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss you one last time before you both settled into the car, determined to leave behind the embarrassment and bask in your shared warmth.

—

"Well, that’s how it would've gone if you hadn’t lied and basically stranded me at the salon while you were grocery shopping," you say, shaking your head slightly. "And picking up cute sweaters, thinking you'd surprise me, but you know—"

Katsuki frowns, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly not understanding the full depth of your reasoning. "What, you steal my stuff because it’s your duty now? What the hell kinda logic is that?"

You give a playful shrug. "Yeah, pretty much. It's literally my job now as your wife to steal your clothes, and I can only give them back when they no longer smell like you."

You finish rubbing lotion onto your legs and arms, your movements slow and deliberate as you prepare for bed, the soft scent of the lotion mixing with the lingering fragrance of the shower. Katsuki’s eyes are locked on you, studying every motion with an intensity that almost feels like a heatwave in the room. After a beat of silence, he tilts his head slightly, as if trying to gauge whether you're serious or messing with him. 

He doesn’t quite seem convinced, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stares at you with that familiar intensity, his gaze flickering as you move around the room. Then, without missing a beat, he breaks the silence with a casual, 

“Wanna get sweaty together?”

The words hang in the air for a moment, his deep voice making your heart skip. You freeze for a split second as you carefully wrap your hair in the silk scarf, the cool material sliding over your fingers as you look at him through the reflection in the vanity mirror. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the playful glint in his gaze, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Sweaty? I— Oh!" The heat that suddenly swirled in your lower stomach caught you off guard, the warmth curling low as his smile turned sharp, wicked even. You could feel his gaze on you from the bed, intense, like he was savoring the tension in the air.Katsuki shifted on the bed, his voice held a teasing edge when he spoke again, every word dripping with intent, 

"I saw what you did to my microwave, you little shit."

Your stomach flipped as your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t even need to ask what he meant. You knew exactly what he was referring to. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze in the mirror. 

What were you supposed to say?! There was no point in trying to justify it. 

You did smear syrup all over the microwave.

Knowing it would work your clean freak husband up. 

But before you could even process a response, your feet were already moving before your brain could catch up.

You threw yourself out of the vanity chair, your body a blur of action. You didn’t even glance at him as you bolted for the door, the room instantly filled with the sound of your hurried steps echoing through the hallway. The soft padding of your bunny slippers barely made a sound, but your heart was thundering in your chest as you dashed past the hallway, dodging furniture and glancing back over your shoulder.

Katsuki’s laughter, low and knowing, rumbled from behind you, the sound growing louder as his footsteps followed close behind. He was coming for you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You could hear the shift in his tone—hungry, playful, and definitely too cocky for your liking. 

He was enjoying this, you realized.

‘Think fast, think fast!’ You glanced wildly around, and then, on instinct, you jumped. You sailed over the stair railing, landing with a soft thud on the other side. The movement was fluid, practiced, but the rush of adrenaline made it feel like the world had slowed down. The next few seconds were a blur of frantic footfalls and the sound of your breath catching in your chest.

You didn’t have time to scream or laugh—it was all pure instinct now as you dashed through the house. 

Every step was a race against him. You darted from one room to the next, flipping on every light you could reach, as if trying to outsmart him with a maze of illumination. You tried to drown out the sound of his voice, calling out to you, teasing you.

"Where’d you go, huh? You think you can run from me?" Katsuki’s voice bounced off the walls, deep and full of that teasing edge. His footsteps were much closer now.

You couldn’t let him catch you just yet, not while you still had a chance. The house felt too large, yet too small, and you knew the only way to stay out of his grasp was to stay one step ahead. You could hear him, but he hadn’t quite found you yet.

With a quiet gasp, you pressed yourself against the wall, slipping into the narrow space between the large sectional and the wall. 

The living room was eerily silent now, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the slight rustling of your robe. You held your breath, eyes darting from the shadows of the room to the hallway beyond. 

‘Stay quiet, stay still, don’t even fucking breathe’ you told yourself, the anticipation thick in the air.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Your heart was hammering in your chest, each beat loud enough that you thought he might hear it, but then you heard it—the subtle sound of his footsteps, faint at first, but growing louder as he circled the room.

"You think you can hide from me, huh?" Katsuki’s voice was low, predatory, and full of amusement. 

"I’m gonna find you, little bunny. There’s nowhere you can hide."

You felt the hairs on your neck stand up as the anticipation crept into your veins. He was so close. You could practically feel him, his energy filling the space, even if you couldn’t see him. His presence was like a heat wave moving through the room.

And then it happened.

A loud thud, and the creak of the floorboards beneath his weight. His voice, sharper now, echoed in the space. "I know you're here, damn it. Don’t make me come get you."

You tensed, knowing your time was running out. He was near, but you had one more move left. You didn’t wait. You took the chance. You shot out from your hiding place, darting for the sliding door before he could reach you.

But it was too late.

With a speed that seemed to defy logic, Katsuki was on you in seconds. His large hand gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You gasped in surprise, your heart racing as you felt the heat of his body press against your back.

“Yer gonna have to do better than that,” he growled in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

With his other hand, he pulled you roughly into his chest, his muscles flexing with the effort as he forced you into his embrace. You could feel his heart beating just as wildly as yours, and despite the playful teasing, there was a fire in his touch that made your pulse quicken.

Katsuki’s lips pressed to the side of your neck, his voice a soft, dangerous murmur. “You can’t outrun me, babe. Now... what’s this about dirtying my stuff?”

“You didn’t even want the microwave!”

The two ‘love taps’ on your ass that followed told you that wasn't the point.  

You swallowed, feeling the playful, mischievous tension shift into something much more intense. You could feel the smirk against his skin, his chest still rumbling with amusement. He wasn’t going to let this go easily.

"I guess you’ve caught me," you murmured, your voice breathless. "But you still haven’t figured out what you’re gonna do about it, have you?"

His response was a low, satisfied chuckle, his grip tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. "Oh, I’ve got a few ideas," he murmured darkly, and just like that, you knew this game was far from over.

The tension in the air shifted once more, as Katsuki grabbed your waist as you tried to dart past him, guiding you toward the kitchen with a firm hand ont he small of your back. His grip was strong, commanding, as he led you to the microwave.

"Get to work," he grumbled, his voice low and filled with that same playful authority. The mess you’d made—smeared syrup on the microwave—was now your responsibility to clean up. You could see his smirk from the corner of your eye, clearly enjoying the little game he'd forced you into.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting as you grabbed a rag from the counter and began wiping the sticky mess away. It wasn't exactly what you'd had in mind for a fun evening. You sighed dramatically, your body language exaggerated as you huffed.

"This wasn’t what I had in mind, you know," you muttered under your breath, clearly disappointed.

Katsuki glanced up from the apple he was casually biting into, his deep eyes locking onto yours as his lips curled into a teasing smile. "What did you have in mind?" His voice held that same playful edge, but there was something beneath it—a hint of satisfaction in knowing that you'd been caught, and he was making you work for it.

You scowled, wanting to retort, but all you could do was finish the job, swiping the last of the syrup away with a little more force than necessary. Katsuki’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the heat of his attention despite his nonchalant chewing. He enjoyed this too much—seeing you all riled up and a little annoyed. You could tell by the stupid sexy small grin playing on his lips.

Finally, when the job was done, you straightened up, wiping your hands on your robe. Katsuki pushed off the counter and walked past you, his voice casual as he asked, "You ready for bed now?"

The suggestion of rest was tempting, but you weren't done with him just yet. You rubbed your hands together slowly, grinning mischievously inside as you felt the heat rise between you again. Katsuki turned to face you, already half-expecting something more, but his brow furrowed when he noticed the way you were acting.

"Is the house too cold for you?" he asked, the softness in his voice indicating he was already thinking of ways to keep you comfortable. "I’ll turn up the heat."

But before he could even take another step toward the thermostat, your hand darted out, warm and quick. 

The palm of your hand landed with a firm smack against his ass cheek, the impact loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Katsuki froze, his eyes narrowing in shock, but before he could fully process it, you did it again. A quick, sharp tap to the other cheek—once, then twice—your hand connecting with his firm, muscular backside.

He whipped around, his eyes flashing with the same fiery intensity you knew so well. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, a growl barely concealed beneath the words, and his chest rose and fell with a deep breath, clearly trying to control the surge of heat that ran through him.

But before he could respond or chase you, you darted away, sprinting down the hallway with your heart racing. The adrenaline from the earlier chase was still pumping in your veins, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, knowing that you were in for it now. You could already feel the change in him—a shift from playful to downright determined, and that meant trouble for you.

His voice, sharp and commanding, followed you as you ran through the house. 

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!" 

There was no sweetness in his words anymore, just the promise of payback, and you knew he meant it.

You could feel it before you even reached the hallway corner—the heavy thuds of his footsteps as he chased after you. He was pissed, but there was a certain gleam in his eyes that told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you couldn’t stop the thrill of it all. You were playing with fire, and Katsuki was more than ready to burn.

The panic you felt as you scrambled into the prep kitchen and opened the pantry was only tempered by the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You threw the door closed behind you with a soft, but hurried click, and you quickly scaled the shelves, barely keeping your balance as you shoved yourself into the corner. It was dark, cramped, and smelled faintly of spices, but it was perfect for hiding—for now, at least.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, biting back the urge to laugh at your own antics. Playing this game with Katsuki was dangerous, and you knew it. But what could you say? You were addicted to the thrill, to the way you could tap dance on his nerves like this, driving him crazy. It was a game, one you both knew well, and hell, you’d earned it. As his wife, it was practically your constitutional right to rile him up a little.

Your eyes darted around the small, dark pantry, and your breath slowed as you listened carefully for any sound of Katsuki. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, faintly, you heard the echoing crackle of something in the distance, the unmistakable sound of soft explosions. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what it was—Katsuki was out there, his quirk flaring. You barely had time to register the thought before you saw a faint glow from under the pantry door, the light from his explosions spilling in through the cracks as he tested the area.

For a moment, the kitchen went eerily silent. The door swung open, just enough to let in more light, and you could hear his heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate. He wasn’t using his quirk anymore, but his presence was palpable, a tension in the air you could practically taste.Eventually, the door closed again, but you didn’t hear any footsteps leading away. 

You swallowed, holding your breath, wondering if he was waiting for you to give yourself away. What if he was just outside the door, waiting for you to slip up? The thought made your pulse race again, and you crouched down lower, hoping to stay hidden just a little longer. The quiet was agonizing as you waited, counting each second, your heart thudding in your ears.

Gently, you climbed back down from your spot and tiptoed to the center of the pantry doors. You couldn’t see any feet from under the door and when you peaked through the crack, no one was there. Even the door to the prep kitchen was close, moonlight streaming in from the window. 

Then, just as you began to relax, a shiver ran up your spine, and you swore you could feel him looking at you, his gaze burning through the air. It was a wild thought, but your instincts told you it was true. You hadn’t heard him move, but you felt it—the knowing presence of Katsuki, so close yet so far. You froze, barely daring to move as you waited for him to make his next move.

And then it came.

A soft whisper, just behind your ear, as warm lips brushed against your ear. 

"Is he gone yet?"

Your breath hitched, and you barely stifled a scream. 

He had been right there the whole time, lying in wait, ready to strike. You gasped and immediately bolted, stumbling out of your hiding spot as you tore down the pantry shelves, your heart pounding. 

"Katsuki!" you screamed, the sound of your voice only fueling the chase. 

He tricked you! 

And now, you were going to pay for it.

You ran back into the kitchen, your legs moving faster than they should have, but you weren’t about to let him win. You spun around the counter, ducking and dodging as you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps closing in behind you. Katsuki was hot on your heels, laughing darkly as he taunted, 

"You're not gonna outrun me, sweetheart!"

Your heart was racing as you darted around the kitchen, taking sharp corners and swerving around the island. It felt like an endless game of 'ring around the rosie'—only you were the one spinning in circles, desperate to keep your distance while Katsuki's laughter echoed all around you. The kitchen, your familiar battleground, was now your prison, and he was closing in.

Desperation filled you, and in a moment of inspiration (or maybe pure panic), you grabbed the nearest fruit basket. You swung it at him with all the force you could muster, and it hit him square in the chest, sending apples and oranges scattering across the floor. He paused for a moment, surprised by your impromptu attack, but the shock didn’t last long. A smirk spread across his face as he shook his head and turned back toward you.

“Nice try,” he growled, already moving after you again.

You shrieked and turned on your heel, racing toward the hallway. The next place to hide? You didn’t know yet, but you weren’t about to make it easy for him. You heard his footsteps pounding after you, his growls of annoyance growing louder with each step.

"Leave me alone!" you shouted, looking for any way to escape. "You're impossible!"

You dart into the home movie theater, your feet skidding slightly on the smooth hardwood floors as you crouch low between the rows of seats, hoping to lose Katsuki in the dimness of the room. The large space feels like a maze of plush chairs and hidden corners, perfect for slipping away unnoticed. Your pulse is pounding in your ears as you press your back to one of the seats, holding your breath, trying to calm the frantic energy running through you.

For a moment, all is silent, the only sound the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Then, without warning, the room is flooded with light as the giant movie screen flickers to life. You jerk your head up in alarm to see Katsuki standing at the front of the room, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

He’s leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a predator waiting for its prey to make a mistake. The screen behind him casts a glow, making his features look sharp and dangerous—his vermillion eyes twinkling with amusement.

“You can’t hide forever, princess,” he calls out in a sing-song voice, and your stomach flutters in that wicked, dangerous way that only he can manage. It’s almost scary how much his presence affects you, but you can't stop the heat rising in your body as you feel his gaze locking onto you.

You throw the remote at him in a frantic attempt to distract him, and it hits him square in the chest. He chuckles darkly and catches it mid-air, his eyes still never leaving yours as he steps toward you. “Nice try,” he mocks, his voice low, full of dangerous amusement. 

“But you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

Before you can react, you turn and bolt out of the theater, running as fast as your legs can carry you. His footsteps echo behind you, the sound of him chasing you growing closer and closer. 

“Why don’t you wanna be a good wife, huh?” 

His voice rings out, teasing and laced with that underlying heat that makes your skin tingle. 

“Come over here so I can show you just how much of a bad girl you’re being.”

You let out a squeal of laughter and fear, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about how relentless he is, how playful yet serious, that makes you feel like a mixture of excitement and nervousness all at once. It’s almost overwhelming, the way his words make your heart do summer saults.

In your panic, you dart into the gaming room, thinking you can slip past him in the narrow space between the arcade machines and shelves of consoles. But the moment you step into the room, you realize your mistake. You’ve backed yourself into a corner, and you can already feel his presence behind you, drawing closer.

A low growl of frustration escapes his throat. 

“Really? You think this is gonna save you?” he grumbles, his voice rich with amusement as he stalks toward you, closing the gap faster than you can react. You try to dash around one of the desks, but he’s already there, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back with a force that leaves you breathless.

Before you know it, you’re pressed against the cool surface of a console, the light from the television screen casting strange shadows over your bodies. Katsuki’s face is inches from yours, his warm breath mingling with yours as his eyes burn with that teasing, wicked glint.

“Gotcha,” he growls softly, his lips curling into a smile that’s anything but sweet. You feel a surge of heat rush to your cheeks as you fight to catch your breath, the rush of adrenaline still pumping through you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says with a mock sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek. “Otherwise, I’d just let you keep running.”

But you’re trapped now, nowhere to go but back into his arms as he pulls you closer, his grip firm but playful. The game has changed, and you can feel it in every heated second that passes between you two.

You feel a mischievous spark flicker in your chest, a playful impulse bubbling up as you glance at Katsuki. Thinking quickly, you decide to act on your not-so-good thoughts and fake a cough, knowing full well that he wouldn’t deny you something as simple as water.

You cover your face against his shoulder, a dramatic cough escaping your lips, each one exaggerated and “delicate” as you turn to him, trying your best to sound like you're struggling without actually being in distress. You hold the coughs in just long enough to make it sound convincing, then pull back just slightly to give him a soft, pleading look.

“Kat,” you manage to whisper, your voice intentionally weak as you try to act as demure as possible while clearly playing him. “Could you get me some water? Please?”

His gaze softens for a moment, the protective instinct flaring up in him as he reaches over without a second thought, clearly not seeing the slight mischief in your eyes. His hand brushes your hair away from your face gently

As soon as the cough escapes your lips, you can see the flicker of concern flash across Katsuki's face. His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn't call you out. He knows you too well to fall for a typical trick, but when you fake a few more delicate coughs, turning your face into his shoulder and pretending to weakly gasp for air, he seems to soften. His scowl deepens, but he’s already scanning you, making sure you're actually okay.

"Kami, you're really something else," he mutters under his breath, but there's no bite in his tone. Instead, it's replaced with a reluctant tenderness as he hoists you up into his arms with ease, just like he’s done so many times before. The moment your body presses against his chest, you feel the warmth of him radiate through your own clothes, and you can’t help but smile, knowing you’re getting exactly what you wanted.

He carries you into the kitchen with a determined stride, like he’s on a mission. You’re basically cradled against him, the motion smooth but with that underlying power that only Katsuki can bring. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the way he smells, the comfort of his presence making everything feel secure, even if you were the one to initiate this little ruse.

Once he sets you on the kitchen counter, it’s all business. 

He turns around, reaching for the fridge and pulling out a ice cold water bottle, which he hands to you with a soft, "Here." His expression is serious now, a slight frown still lingering on his face, though it’s softened by the concern he can't hide entirely.

"Thank you," you murmur sweetly, taking the bottle and uncapping it with a soft twist. You sip from it generously, enjoying the coolness of the water that soothes your throat. All the while, you notice his gaze never leaves you, a little too intense for casual observation. The way he looks at you, like you're both an annoyance and a treasure, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you take another sip, Katsuki silently starts picking up the apples and oranges you’d thrown at him earlier. The way his muscular arms move, the tension in his back and shoulders as he bends down and reaches for the fallen fruit, has your thoughts wandering. For a split second, you can’t help but compare him to Jason, imagining what it would be like if Katsuki were to flex those powerful muscles with the same intent—though you know that Katsuki would never harm you.

He stands there, staring at you with his hands resting firmly on the counter. 

The muscles in his forearms flex as he leans in slightly, clearly waiting for you to acknowledge him. But it’s the way his eyes lock onto you, his expression serious but not without a hint of that playful edge that makes your heart beat faster. He stands so close, the heat of his body radiating toward you, and you almost swear you can feel the smoldering energy between you two, even without touching.

You take another sip of the water, but this time your gaze meets his, and you can't help but smirk. "You look good like that," you tease, unable to resist the playful glint in your own eyes as your gaze roams over him, savoring the way his muscles move with every action, every twitch of his body. It’s almost as if you’re daring him to take the next step.

Katsuki smirks back, his eyes darkening slightly. "You think you're so cute, don't you?" His voice is low, the undertone of desire thick enough for you to feel it in your bones.

But you're not done yet.

"You know, I am," you reply coyly, swinging your legs slightly on the counter, letting your robe ride up just a little. You watch the way his eyes flicker to your legs, the change in his expression that makes your stomach twist in excitement.

Katsuki clears his throat and leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he growls, "You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart." He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, his vermilion eyes smoldering with a mix of amusement and desire. 

"You better be ready for the consequences."

And just like that, you know this little game of yours has taken a sharp turn. The air is thick with tension now, each second passing like an electric pulse between you both. But you’re not backing down. 

Not this time.

You seize the water bottle, chucking it at your husband again as his eyes narrow and he hits the ground in time, your pulse quickening as you dart off the counter and up the stairs, hoping your lucky stars are shining brightly tonight. The sound of Katsuki's curses and frustrated muttering echo from downstairs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. ‘

"Oi, you little brat, don’t think you’re getting away that easily," his voice growls, a mix of exasperation and amusement lacing his words. "I swear to god, when I get my hands on you—"

The sound of Katsuki's curses and frustrated muttering echo from downstairs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. The dim light from the hallway barely reaches the corners of the room, and with a quick glance around, you make a beeline for the space under the bed. You slide underneath, curling into a tight ball, trying to control your breathing as your pulse continues to throb in your ears. You’re nearly holding your breath now, hoping that the darkness of the room and the soft carpet will hide you long enough for him to give up the search.

‘He’s not chasing me,’ you think, laughing under your breath as you curl up into a tight ball, barely able to contain your giggles. The dim light from the hallway barely reaches you as you stay perfectly still, heart racing with excitement.

The silence stretches, just as you're starting to think you might actually get away with it, but then—crackle—the intercom crackles to life. Katsuki’s voice filters through, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is dark and heavy with intent, cutting through the quiet of the house like a razor.

"Okay, little girl, have it your way," he growls, the sound of his explosions echoing faintly in the background, a sign that he’s still searching. "If you can hide for another 10 minutes without pulling any of your dirty tricks, the rest of the night can go your way."

You pause, the breath you’d been holding catching in your throat as you listen more intently. 

You don’t dare make a sound, your body tense beneath the bed, the room feeling colder as the challenge sets in. Katsuki’s words ring through your mind, and you can almost see the smirk on his face, even though you’re hidden in the shadows.

Then, the briefest of pauses. You could hear his explosions falter as if he was waiting for your response, but you stay still. His next words are low, full of weight, and deliberate as they slide from his mouth.

"If I win..." He drags it out, just enough to keep you on edge. 

"You’ll be my slave. Your choice."

Your stomach flutters with both anxiety and excitement, your pulse spiking at the dangerous proposition. 

Slave—his word lingers in your mind, and despite the heavy weight of it, there’s an undeniable thrill in the challenge he’s laying before you. The heat rises in your cheeks as you realize what’s at stake.

Another pause, and then his voice filters through again, darker this time, as though the stakes are raised even higher. "I’ll give you five minutes to come back and apologize. Otherwise..." His voice lowers to a growl, the chill of it making your spine straighten. 

"You better hope I don’t find you, princess."

Your breath hitches, the finality in his words sending a shiver through you. Every muscle tenses as you lie there, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the silence of the room. The space underneath the bed suddenly feels even tighter, as though the weight of his promise is closing in on you.

You’re caught between two choices—stay hidden and push your luck, or face him and risk the consequences. Your hands grip the floor beneath you, the texture of the carpet digging into your fingers as you think, weighing the choices, feeling the pressure of every second ticking by.

“BOOM!”

Something gets knocked over somewhere down the hall, and it stops your heart. You strain your ears and catch a noise. It’s Katsuki, his voice low but unmistakably annoyed, filtering through the walls.

You can hear the smirk in his tone, the barely restrained menace, and it sends a thrill straight through you. You feel a rush of adrenaline as the challenge settles into your chest. ‘A slave, huh?’ The thought makes you bite your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. 

But you can’t let him know you’re enjoying this.

You curl further beneath the bed, trying to keep as still as possible, your body pressing against the cool floorboards as you listen intently to his voice. His words ring in your ears, an irresistible mix of dominance and playfulness. You can practically feel the heat of his glare from here, even though you’re tucked away in your hiding spot.

“Ten minutes, huh?” you whisper to yourself, still not daring to move an inch. “Guess I better make this count.”

You hold your breath, willing yourself to stay silent, as you hear his footsteps grow closer. It’s eerily quiet for a moment, and then—footsteps, loud and deliberate—Katsuki’s on the move. He’s clearly taking his time, perhaps savoring this moment, knowing that you're somewhere just out of reach. His footsteps stop right outside the door to the guest bedroom.

“I'm coming for you, princess,” he calls through the door, voice low and menacing. 

"Seven minutes... Time’s ticking."

You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear the quickening of your pulse. You can hear him walking around, at a deliberate pace, as if he's trying to cover every inch of the house. He's playing this game with the same ferocity he brings to everything—no hesitation, no mercy.

Your eyes flicker to the clock on the nightstand. Time’s slipping away, and you can practically feel the heat of his presence outside the room, waiting for you to make a move.

His voice suddenly filters through again, but this time, it’s even more teasing, drawing you in like a magnet. "I hope you know, I’m gonna find you. You’re not getting away with this, bunny."

Your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s close, and the clock is ticking down. 

You have to make a decision—will you continue hiding, hoping your luck will hold, or will you face him and take what’s coming? Either way, you're in this now, and the thrill of the chase is too intoxicating to back out of.

You wait for another few seconds, then slowly, carefully, you begin to crawl out from under the bed. The floor creaks beneath you, but you ignore it, moving as silently as you can toward the door. You hear his footsteps again, and they’re louder now, meaning he’s getting closer.

You quickly slip out of the guest bedroom and dart down the hallway, trying to keep your steps light. The adrenaline courses through you, and you feel a sudden, almost overwhelming desire to make him chase you a little longer.

But suddenly, just as you round the corner, you stop. 

You press yourself into the wall, holding your breath.

His voice rings out from down the hall, low and rough. "I'm getting close, little girl. I can feel you. You’re not gonna hide much longer." The challenge has shifted. The ball is in your court now. You might just be able to outsmart him... or you might end up surrendering to his demand, not knowing which would be more satisfying.

Your pulse races as you slip through the room, making your way back to the shared bedroom, your footsteps light but hurried. The house feels bigger now, emptier, as if the space is closing in on you.

Once you reach the door, you pause, a brief moment of hesitation before you push it open, slipping inside. 

The familiar scent of the room—of Katsuki, of home—wraps around you like a comforting blanket, but tonight, there’s no time for comfort.

You quickly climb into the bed, burying yourself beneath the thick comforter, the soft fluff of pillows surrounding you like a fortress. You pull the blankets tight around your body, cocooning yourself under layers, your body hidden from view. For a moment, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the game, the thrill not yet over.

You glance at the clock, counting down the minutes in your head. You can feel it—the frantic pace of the house around you, the subtle pressure building as the time slips away. ‘At least three more minutes,’ you think, your breath steadying as you listen to the muffled sounds of movement downstairs.

But then, suddenly, it all stops. 

The noise, the footsteps, the low muttering of Katsuki’s voice—all of it vanishes. 

A dead silence fills the air, so complete that it almost feels like the house has emptied, the stillness pressing in on you. You hold your breath, eyes wide in the darkness beneath the covers, your mind racing as you try to process the sudden absence of sound.

Had he given up? Or was this part of his plan? 

The unknown lingers in the air like a thick fog, and you lie there, still, not daring to move, every muscle tensed. You can’t tell if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake, or if he’s biding his time for something else.

The quiet stretches on, and it feels heavier now, as though Katsuki is just outside, watching, waiting.

You stay as still as possible, your heart pounding so loudly you swear it might give you away. Every inch of your body is frozen in place, breath shallow as you try to listen for any sign of movement, any clue as to what Katsuki is doing.

Then, out of nowhere, you feel it.

Arms wrap around you suddenly, pulling you into a firm hold. Your heart leaps in your throat as you gasp, the air squeezed out of you in an instant. A hand presses firmly over your mouth, stifling any sound that might escape, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. The pressure of his hold leaves no room for escape, your body effectively trapped against his, pressed up against the hard muscles of his body.

You stiffen, but the strength of his grip is unmistakable. The hand on your waist pulls you even closer, locking you in place, and you can feel every rigid line of his body against you. His warmth, the familiar scent of him—it all envelops you, but it only makes the tension sharper, the reality of your situation crashing down.

Katsuki’s body is solid behind you, his breathing steady but low, as though he’s been waiting for this moment, patient and calculating. You can feel his  strength, that palpable aura of control he always carries, and the way his muscles tense beneath your back as he holds you firmly in place.

For a long moment, neither of you move. 

The stillness between you two is thick, broken only by the ragged beat of your heart in your chest. He hasn’t said a word yet, but the way his grip tightens slightly, possessive and unyielding, tells you everything you need to know. He’s won this round, and he’s not letting go anytime soon.

"Did you really think you could hide from me that easily?" His voice comes low, a hiss vibrating through the air, right next to your ear. It’s a whisper, but it feels like a command, and the way his breath brushes against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

You remain motionless, your mind spinning as you try to process what comes next. 

Katsuki’s grip around you tightens, but instead of the usual sharp dominance, there’s a surprising gentleness to it. His hand on your mouth lifts ever so slightly, his thumb brushing your lips in the softest of motions. For a moment, you’re left breathless, caught between confusion and something more electric that stirs under your skin.

You remain still, heart hammering in your chest, as you feel him pull you even closer, his chest pressing harder against your back. His breath is warm against your ear, and then—unexpectedly—his lips brush against your skin. The kiss is feather-light at first, a tentative press of his lips against your temple, as though testing something, gauging your reaction.

You freeze, the sensation catching you off guard. His lips are soft, too soft for the fierce, fiery hero you know him to be. It’s a contrast you’re not used to, and it disorients you. The kiss lingers for a moment before he pulls back slightly, but only enough to whisper in your ear.

"Don’t move," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, as if speaking to someone fragile. His hands move then, his fingers trailing softly down your mouth, a stark contrast to his usual forceful touch. They’re gentle, almost reverent, as if you were something delicate in his grasp.

You feel the faintest press of his lips again, this time on your neck, where his breath sends a wave of warmth across your skin. His lips trail lower, his kisses soft and careful, almost as though he’s rememorizing the shape of you, the way your body responds to his touch.

Your mind races, trying to process the tenderness, the way his hands glide over your body with such care. 

He’s checking you, almost methodically, like he’s making sure you’re okay, as if this entire moment is more about keeping you safe than playing any kind of game. It’s bewildering, disorienting, and just as you’re about to say something, you realize—it’s not just your arms and neck that he’s gently caressing.

He’s checking every inch of you, his hands roaming down your body with a soft, almost protective touch. When his fingers reach your ankles, you flinch slightly, but he’s too gentle, too careful. He slides your slippers off one by one, his movements so fluid you almost don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. He continues his exploration, his hands inching up to your legs, your sides, his lips grazing across your skin as he checks every part of you.

But then you feel it—your robe, the one you’d been wearing only moments ago—is gone. It’s not just slipped off, it’s completely vanished, and the realization hits you like a cold wave. ‘When did he…?’ You don’t even remember him removing it.

Panic surges for a fleeting moment, but the overwhelming gentleness of his touch leaves you frozen in place. The confusion only deepens as you feel him inspect you, feeling each shift and breath of your body, as if making sure everything is just right. His hands linger for a moment on your hips, giving a soft squeeze, before sliding back up your torso, every movement deliberate but tender.

His lips press another kiss to the side of your neck, and this time, there’s an almost loving quality to it—soft and warm, like a promise or reassurance. You finally manage to gather your thoughts, your voice barely a whisper when you ask, 

"Katsuki… What are you doing?"

His hands freeze on your skin for a brief moment, and you can almost feel the pause in him, the weight of your question. He pulls away slightly, enough to look at you, but his hands never leave your body. His gaze meets yours, and the softness in his eyes contrasts with the fierce intensity you’re used to.

“ ’m making sure you’re okay,” he answers, voice still gentle, but it carries a seriousness to it. 

You swallow hard, the conflicting sensations in your chest only growing. His usual fiery nature is subdued now, replaced by something softer, something you’ve never seen from him. His fingers run softly over the edge of your collarbone, a silent question hanging between you both.

And then it clicks—the tenderness, the way he’s inspecting every inch of you, the robe and slippers that vanished without you even noticing. He’s not just searching for a game to win anymore. This is something different, something deeper, and you're left unsure if you should be relieved or even more confused than before.

"Turn this way for me, Peaches."

And that’s when it hits you.

Your blood ran cold. Katsuki never, ever called you Peaches in a normal context. It was a nickname reserved for moments right before things got… nasty. The kind of nasty that involved a lot of heated touches and breathless whimpers. Your muscles seized, a full-body freeze that left you rigid as a statue. All the exhaustion from the gaming session vanished, replaced by a shy, anticipatory buzz that thrummed beneath your skin.

Your mind scrambled, trying to piece together the last few minutes.

When you didn't move, his frustration was palpable, even if it was masked by a layer of concern you couldn't quite place. He reached out, not violently, but with a surprising gentleness in his grip, his calloused fingers curving around your upper arm and turning you towards him. His touch sent a jolt that unthawed your frozen limbs.

His brow was furrowed slightly as he scanned me, his gaze lingering on your shoulders, your arms, your ribcage. The intensity in his eyes wasn't lustful, not yet— it was searching, concerned.

"You didn't hit the floor too hard, did you?" he finally asked, the gruffness in his voice softer than usual. "I saw you stumble." Your breath hitched. ‘You’ve been worried about me?’ You hadn't even noticed. Your mind had been so focused on the teasing nickname and its implications that I’d completely missed the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I… I'm fine," You stammered, the tension slowly releasing its grip, though a different kind of nervous anticipation still simmered within.

Katsuki didn't seem fully convinced, his crimson eyes narrowing as he continued to assess you with that sharp focus. Then, he did something unexpected. He reached out again, but this time, his hands didn't just grip your arms. They slid down your forearms, to my wrists, and then to your hands. He took them in his, his own calloused fingers engulfing your much smaller ones.

The warmth of his skin seared through the thin fabric of your flesh. It was a small gesture, but the intimacy of it sent a different kind of shiver down your spine this time. It was a shiver of warmth, of comfort, and a growing awareness that maybe, just maybe, Peaches could mean different things in different contexts, and Katsuki was far more simple than you gave him credit for.

The tension in the room is thick as Katsuki’s lips near, his body heat radiating from the shadows like a controlled storm. The moonlight spills softly through the balcony doors, casting gentle beams across the floor and bed, painting everything in silvery hues. The only other light comes from the low, moody glow of your vanity, creating a calm contrast to the intensity of his presence. His face stop right in front of you, but you keep your eyes closed, pretending to remain focused on your own breathing.

"Yer not foolin’ me, Peach," Katsuki growls softly, his voice warm with amusement. He dips down in front of you, just within reach. His hand slides slowly up your calf, brushing against your smooth skin, sending a ripple of electricity through your body. His fingers gently graze your legs, rubbing them tenderly as though savoring the feel of them under his touch.

"Ya know," he says, his tone low, "’m gonna learn how to do nails." He pauses, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your inner thigh as he leans in, soft lips brushing against the tender skin of your knee. 

“That way, ya never have ta go back to that damn salon with that shithead.”

His lips leave a gentle kiss on your knee before resting his warm cheek against it, eyes narrowing as he meets your gaze with that sharp, intense look of his. 

“You’re my wife now,” he murmurs, almost as if it’s a promise. 

“I’m gonna take care of you. Always.”

You let out a soft breath, the heat rising in your chest as his words sink in. There’s something about the way he’s holding you, not just physically but emotionally, that makes your heart race. Katsuki is possessive, protective, and you can feel it in every inch of his touch, every word he speaks.

His hands gently grip your legs as his lips travel slowly up, kissing his way higher and higher, each kiss deliberate and full of affection. Your eyes flutter open as his warm breath fans across your skin, a chill running through you only to be quickly washed away by his heat. He pauses for a moment when he reaches your knees, his lips brushing softly against the skin there before his voice rumbles out again, teasing, yet affectionate.

“‘s the matter, Peaches?”

"We both have work tomorrow," you murmur, the words almost slipping out before you can catch them. “We can’t—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to the top of your knee, lingering there just a little longer than necessary. "I own the agency with you, babe," he says against your skin, his breath hot and soothing, sending a tremor through your body. 

"I can make arrangements. I’ll always make arrangements for you."

Your body shivers under his touch, a mix of excitement and anticipation building with every passing second. His kisses are relentless, moving up your legs, up your thighs, and over the soft curve of your hips and stomach as he inches closer to your lips.

A small laugh escapes you, but it’s laced with affection and playfulness. "It’s gonna be cold tonight," you say, voice barely above a whisper. He grins against your breastbone, the corners of his lips curling upward. 

"I’ll warm you up," he promises. His lips are now against your voice box, trailing upward slowly, stopping just shy of your jawline as he waits for your next move. You hesitate for a moment, remembering your freshly blown out hair. 

"I just got my hair done..." you say softly, a small tinge of concern flicking across your thoughts.

Katsuki pauses, his movements stilling entirely as if he’s considering the possibility of ruining your new style. 

Then, without a word, he reaches up, his strong hands gently pulling the silk scarf from your head. Your hair spills around you like a fan, soft and flowing, a stunning contrast to the harshness of the world outside. He picks up a few strands of your blow-out, his fingers lightly running through them as his lips land on them, kissing the strands with a reverence that surprises you.

With a tender smile, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, the very roots of your hair, then moves down, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your eyes, nose, and finally stopping at your lips. His lips linger there for a second, his breath mingling with yours as he pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft, almost vulnerable.

“I know,” he murmurs, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, firm and warm, as he pours everything he feels into the kiss. You melt into him, hands finding their way into his hair as you pull him closer. The world outside fades away as he deepens the kiss, kissing you like he can’t get enough, like this moment is something precious he wants to keep forever.

And you let him.

Katsuki’s kiss deepens as you respond with equal fervor, your bodies pressed close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. His hands trail down your sides, gripping your waist and pulling you closer, his mouth moving hungrily against yours as though he’s starved for this closeness.

The soft fabric of your tanktop shifts under his touch as he tugs it down slightly, exposing your skin to the cool air, only for him to warm it up instantly with his hands. His lips leave yours reluctantly, his breath ragged as he moves down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin. His teeth graze the pulse point just below your ear, and you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of heat straight through your body.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," Katsuki growls, his hands sliding up your back to unclasp the delicate straps of your bra. The motion is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every inch of you. 

“Can’t believe yer all mine."

You shiver as the fabric of your bra falls away, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He kisses his way down your collarbone, his hands now skimming over your curves, feeling the heat of your body under his palms. He leans in, capturing one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine.

"Mmm, yer so responsive," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your chest to tease the other nipple. He takes the now-hardened tip into his mouth, sucking gently as his hands trace shapes on your stomach and hips. His touch is electric, making you moan as you arch into him.

"Katsuki," you whimper, your head falling back against the bed. "You're killing me."

He chuckles darkly, flicking his tongue over the tight peak. "I haven't even started, Princess," he promises, moving to lick and nip his way lower.

Your breath hitches when his hands move lower, tracing the waistband of your booty shorts, fingers teasing the edge before sliding beneath them, his touch so light it sends a shock of pleasure through you.

Katsuki’s lips find yours again, the kiss urgent now, his tongue demanding as it moves with a fierce intensity. You can feel his pulse racing as your hands wander to his chest, your fingers sliding beneath his shirt to feel the heated muscle underneath.

His lips trail down once more, this time stopping just above the waistband of your little shorts. His eyes meet yours, burning with desire, before he presses another kiss to your stomach, his hands sliding down your legs to lift them over his shoulders.

"Is this what you want, baby?" Katsuki asks, his voice low and rough, filled with promise. His lips graze your inner thighs as he waits for your answer, teasing, giving you just enough space to feel the need intensify.

"Say it," he demands softly, his voice a seductive growl. "Tell me you want me."

“I want you.”

“Good girl.”

You let out a soft gasp as Katsuki's hands slide up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. With a quick tug, he pulls them down, exposing your lacy panties to his hungry gaze. He leans in, pressing a hot kiss to your clothed sex before pulling back with a smirk.

"Mmm, you're already so wet for me, aren't you?" he purrs, his fingers tracing the damp fabric. "I bet you've been thinking about this all night, haven't you? About what I'd do to you if I caught you?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, biting your lip. Katsuki chuckles, low and deep, as he slowly slides your panties down your legs. You lift your hips to help him, your heart racing as he tosses them aside.

"Fuck, look at you," he growls, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "So perfect, so fucking sexy. I'm going to make you regret running from me."

He leans down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand slides between your legs. His fingers tease your entrance, dipping in just slightly before pulling back.

"Beg for it," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please," you whimper, arching into his touch. "Please, Katsuki, I need you. I need your cock inside me."

"That's my good girl," he praises, sliding two fingers deep inside your aching pussy. "Fuck, you're so tight. I can't wait to stretch you out on my cock."

He pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more, as he works you closer and closer to the edge. His hands slide underneath your body, pushing your legs further apart as he kneels between them. He takes a long look at your pussy, still wet from their earlier encounter, before leaning in and running his tongue along your slit.

"Mmm, so tasty," he murmurs, lapping at your juices like a starving man. "I could drink you from here to the next life."

His tongue circles your clit, making you gasp and squirm. Katsuki chuckles, one hand reaching up to cup your breast as he continues his slow assault. His other hand slides between your legs, spreading your folds wider for better access.

"So fucking ready for me," he purrs, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub. " 'm going to make you regret being a brat."

And with that, he dives in, licking and sucking your throbbing clit as his thumb presses deep into your cunt. Your hips buck off the bed, desperate for more as your moans fill the room.

"Fuck, Katsuki," you cry out, arching into his touch. "Don't stop."

But he does, pulling away with a smirk. "Not this time," he says simply, standing up and tugging off his clothes.

How could you refuse that?

He's magnificent, his well-toned body glistening with sweat and covered in the evidence of your arousal. You trace your fingers over his chest, your breath catching as he sucks in a sharp breath.

His chiseled physique, a testament to countless hours of training, was on full display, each contour accentuated by the soft light. His skin glowed, a perfect canvas that drew your eyes to the powerful muscles flexing as he moved. He was a force of nature—fiery and captivating.

You couldn’t help but admire the way his tousled hair fell over his forehead, framing those sharp, penetrating eyes that held a mixture of confidence and mischief. He caught you staring, a smirk playing on his lips, the corners curling just enough to send a thrill down your spine.

"You like what you see?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

You nod eagerly, your fingers trailing down his abs and lower. Katsuki lets out a shaky breath, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. With a sultry smile, you lean back against the bed on all fours, every inch of you drawn towards him. 

“Just appreciating the view,” you replied, letting your voice drip with flirtation. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken desires as he stepped forward, closing the distance.

“Yeah? Think you can handle all this?” he challenged, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. The heat of his body was intoxicating, igniting a fire deep within you. You could feel the power of him—bold, unyielding, yet protective.

“Only if you let me,” you whispered, your hands inches from his member, hearts racing in synchronized rhythm. But he holds you down. You whimper, trying to push back onto him, but his strong grip holds you steady. 

"Not yet," he murmurs, his hands gripping your wrists. "Lemme enjoy this."

As the tension simmered in the air, Katsuki’s smirk turned playful yet wicked. In one swift motion, he reached around, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand connected with your ass, a sharp slap that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

“Didn’t expect that, did ya?” he chuckled, his voice low and teasing, clearly reveling in the reaction he’d provoked. The sting was both shocking and exhilarating, igniting a fiery rush of desire that pooled deep within you.

Before you could respond, he pulled you closer, flush against his yummy abs, his hands exploring the curves of your back with undeniable confidence. With a deft hand, he slipped beneath your left cheek, fingers brushing against your most sensitive spots. You gasped, the sensation sending shivers down your spine as he found the sweet spot between your folds that made your breath hitch.

Katsuki’s fingers moved with purpose, teasing and exploring, building a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure cascading through you. “Ya like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he worked his magic, pushing you closer to the edge.

You could feel your body responding to his every touch, a delicious mix of desire and lust coursing through your veins. “More,” you managed to gasp, craving every ounce of his attention.

The way he dominated the moment, fully in control yet so attuned to your needs, made your heart race. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, whispering promises of pleasure as his fingers continued their tantalizing dance.

"Peaches," he growls, his voice low and rough. "You haven't come for me yet."

He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, and you cry out. "Please, Katsuki," you beg, your body aching for his release. "Need it."

He laughs, a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. "You'll have it," he promises, "but first, you're going to feel me inside you."

You could feel every taut muscle of Katsuki’s abs pressed against you, his warmth enveloping you completely. The way he moved, fingers dancing expertly, sent shivers cascading down your spine and ignited a fire deep within you. Each thrust of his fingers felt like a direct connection to your very core, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Your hands roamed over his bare hips, tracing the rugged contours, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. The sensation of gripping him, holding onto the solid strength beneath your fingers, made your pulse race with excitement. You could sense the power he exuded, a blend of raw masculinity and confidence that only fueled your desire further.

As he continued to work his magic, you pressed your body closer into him, feeling the rhythm of his movements sync with the rapid beat of your heart. Each curl of his fingers coaxed delicious sounds from your lips, soft gasps and breathy moans that hung heavily in the air. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, the world around you fading away, leaving just the two of you in this electrifying moment.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent another surge of heat coursing through you. His breath was warm against your hair, adding to the intoxicating frenzy building inside you.

You could feel the tightening coil of pleasure building within, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. “Kats..,” you whimpered, unable to contain the need that bubbled within you. Your fingers dug deeper into his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going, to take you higher.

He responded with a fierce intensity, his fingers moving faster, deeper—each thrust igniting a new spark of ecstasy that left you gasping for more. The way he controlled the pace, teasing just enough while driving you wild, was maddeningly exquisite.

“Let go,” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that resonated in your very being. You surrendered completely, giving yourself over to the waves of pleasure that washed over you, losing yourself in the blissful connection between your bodies. "That's it, baby," he coos, his lips trailing down to your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

His words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you through your orgasm until you're boneless and spent.

"Fuck, that was cute," he growls, pulling his fingers from your dripping cunt. "But we're not done yet. I'm going to make you scream my name all night long."

He stands, quickly shedding the covers before grabbing your hips and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. You look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes widening as you take in his massive cock.

"K-Katsuki," you breathe, your pussy already throbbing with need again. "Please..."

"Shh," he soothes, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds. "I've got you, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

And with that, he slams into you, filling you up in one hard thrust. You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as he starts to move, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes.

"Yes, fuck!" you moan, pushing back against him. "Harder, Katsuki! Fuck me harder!"

He obliges, his hips snapping against your ass as he fucks you with wild abandon. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts mixing together in a filthy symphony.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he groans, one hand reaching around to rub your clit. "So fucking tight and wet. You were made for my cock, weren't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, feeling another orgasm building already. "Only yours, ‘tsuki! I'm yours!"

"That's right, baby," he growls, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "This pussy belongs to me. Now come for me one more time. Milk my fucking cock." His words send you spiraling over the edge once more, and you scream his name as you come, your pussy spasming around him. Katsuki follows shortly after, burying himself deep as he fills you with his hot seed.

You both collapse onto the bed, panting and sweaty, as the aftershocks of pleasure fade away. Katsuki pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves. "But don't think we're done yet. I'm going to keep you up all night, making you pay for running from me."

You shiver at his words, already feeling the heat building in your core once more. With Katsuki, you know it's going to be a long, fucking night. You try to pull away, your arms trembling as Katsuki holds you in place. 

"N-no, please," you beg, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. "I can't take anymore. 'S so much."

But Katsuki just chuckles darkly, his grip tightening on your hips. "Too bad, Peach," he growls, his cock still buried deep inside you. "You're not going anywhere until I say so. And I'm far from done with this tight little pussy." He starts to move again, his thrusts slow and deep, as if he has all the time in the world. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his, even as your muscles protest.

"Fuck, look at you," Katsuki purrs, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulls your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. "So desperate for my cock, even when you're begging me to stop."

He bites down on your neck, marking you as his as he fucks you harder, faster. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"I'm going to ruin you," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll never want anyone else. You’re all mine, mind, body and soul." 

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as a part of you recoils at the thought of belonging to anyone. But it's hard to think straight with Katsuki pounding into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. "I want it..."

"That's it, baby," he praises, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "Beg for me. Beg me to fucking ruin you."

You do, your voice rising in pitch as the pleasure builds and builds. Just as you're about to come undone, Katsuki pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"W-what?" you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why did you stop?"

He smirks, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "Because I said so," he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your stomach. 

"And because I want to watch you fall apart for me."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eats you out. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste you."

His tongue is relentless, teasing and stroking your most sensitive spots until you're shaking and writhing beneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent. Then, finally, he climbs up your body, his cock sliding home once more.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "But we're not done yet, Peaches. Not by a long shot."

And with that, he starts to move again, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. You cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you meet him thrust for thrust. It's hard to imagine anything feeling better than this— Katsuki above you, surrounding you, claiming you as his own. But as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, you know that there's no going back.

He's going to ruin you, just like he promised. 

And God help you, but you don't want it any other way.

Katsuki pulls away, leaving you cold and aching on the bed. He stands over you, his eyes dark with desire and something else— a hunger that makes your blood run hot.

"You've been a bad girl, haven't you?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "Running from me, teasing me all night. You need to be punished."

He reaches out, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed. You gasp, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he flips you over, bending you over his knee.

"Count," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack. "And if you stop, we start over." You cry out, your body jolting at the sudden impact. But you quickly remember yourself, gritting out a shaky, 

"One!"

Katsuki smacks your ass again, harder this time. You count off another, your voice rising in pitch as the heat builds on your skin. He spanks you over and over, each blow landing on a different spot until your entire ass is blushing and stinging.

"Please," you whimper, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts."

" 'S supposed to," Katsuki says simply, his hand rubbing circles on your sore flesh. "You need to learn your lesson, bunny. You're mine, and you don't get to run from me." He flips you over again, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them apart. You whine, trying to close your legs, but he's too strong.

"No," he growls, holding you open. "You don't get to hide from me. I want to see every inch of you."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your slit before diving in deep. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he eats you out like a man starved.

"F-Fuck, you taste so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he laps at your juices. "I could do this forever." He brings you to the edge, his tongue teasing your clit, before pulling back at the last second. You keen in frustration, your hands fisting in his hair.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "I wanna cum."

"Beg for it," Katsuki demands, his breath hot against your sex. "Beg me to let you cum on my tongue."

You do, your words tumbling out in a rush as you plead for release. Finally, mercifully, he grants it, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent.

But he's not done with you yet. He flips you over once more, his cock sliding in with one hard thrust. You cry out, your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, as he starts to move.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips snapping against your ass. "So tight and wet and perfect."

He fucks you hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"You're mine," he growls, one hand sliding up your spine to grip your hair. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice breathless with pleasure. "All yours, Katsuki."

"That's right," he praises, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "And I'm going to fucking own you. You'll never want anyone else, ever again."

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as a part of you recoils at the thought of belonging to anyone. But it's hard to think straight with Katsuki pounding into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You whimper, your hands scrabbling at the sheets. 

"I can't...I can't take anymore!"

But Katsuki just chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tightening. "Oh, I think you can," he purrs, his voice rough with desire. "And you will. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, until the only thing you remember is my name." And with that, he starts to move faster, harder, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his as the pleasure builds and builds. His left hand finds your own and threads your fingers together before his thumb rubbing and pressing into that spot on your hand. Call you crazy for focusing on that, but it only adds to the crazy pleasure ringing out in your body. 

Just as you're about to come undone, Katsuki pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting. You whine in protest, your body aching for his touch.

"Kat," you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why’d you stop?"

He smirks, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "Because I said so," he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. 

"And because I want to watch you fall apart for me."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eats you out. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste you. Never gettin’ tired of my fucking pussy."

His tongue is relentless, teasing and stroking your most sensitive spots until you're shaking and writhing beneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent. Then, finally, he climbs up your body, his cock sliding over your sensitive folds once more.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "But we made a deal."

And with that, he starts to move again, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. You cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you meet him thrust for thrust. It's hard to imagine anything feeling better than this— your husband above you, surrounding you, claiming you as his own. As he brings you closer and closer to the edge, you know that there's no going back. You’d never want another. 

Katsuki holds you down on the bed, his weight pinning you in place as his cock slides in and out of your dripping pussy. You arch your back, trying to take him deeper, but he just chuckles darkly.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "Always so desperate for my cock." You whimper in response, your body aching for more. But Katsuki just pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ahh!" you cry out, reaching for him. "Fuck you!"

He smirks, slapping your hand away. "Not yet, baby. You haven't earned it."

He flips you over onto your stomach, your face pressed into the mattress. You feel his hands on your ass, kneading the soft flesh, before he brings his palm down with a sharp smack. Katsuki loves the way the globe ripples, he could watch it all fucking day. You yelp, your body jolting at the impact. But before you can catch your breath, he spanks you again, harder this time.

"Get ready," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "’m gonna tear this ass up."

You count off each blow, your voice rising in pitch as the heat builds on your skin. You gasp and squeal as you feel his teeth meet your soft flesh while he plays with it. Squishing, squeezing, making it bounce in whatever direction makes his dick happy. Your round ass is pulsing by the time he's done, but you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Please Daddy," you beg, your hips bucking back against him. "I want it."

And it almost works, the motion of your cute ass sending a hungry twitch straight to his cock. 

Almost. 

"Not yet," Katsuki says simply, trailing his fingers down your spine. "I want to play with this tight little ass first." You feel his fingers probing at your back entrance, and you clench instinctively. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your stinging flesh.

"Relax, baby," he coos, his voice suddenly gentle. "I'll make it feel good, I promise."

He works a finger inside you, slowly, gently, until you're pushing back against him. Then he adds another, scissoring them inside you as you moan and writhe beneath him. "Fuck, you're so tight," Katsuki groans, his breath coming faster. "I can't wait to feel this tight ass around my cock."

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty and aching. You hear the sound of a bottle popping open, and then his slick fingers are back, working your asshole open.

"I'm going to fuck this ass," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "And you're going to take it like my good little slut."

You whimper at his words, your body both terrified and excited by the prospect. But before you can respond, he's pushing inside you, his cock stretching you wide. You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as he starts to move. It's a slow, steady pace at first, but it quickly builds to something harder, faster.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his hips snapping against your ass. "Take it, baby. Take my fucking cock." Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his as the pleasure builds and builds. Just as you're about to come undone, he pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting once more.

"No," you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

He smirks, flipping you over onto your back. "Because I wanted to see your face when I fuck this ass," he growls, lining himself up with your entrance. Katsuki pushes back inside you, his cock sliding deep as you cry out in pleasure. He starts to move again, fucking you hard and fast as he pins you down with one hand on your lower back.

"Fuck, I love this ass," he groans, his hips slapping against your reddened flesh. "I'm going to fucking ruin it."

You can only moan in response, your body shaking with pleasure as he pounds into you. Just as you're about to come, he pulls out once more. Katsuki pushes your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide open as he slides back inside your dripping pussy. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation.

"Fuck, look at you," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he starts to move. "So fucking needy and sensative. So perfect, all fucking mine."

You can only nod in response, your body his for the taking. He fucks you hard and fast, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Katsuki leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he grinds against your clit with each thrust. "Come for me, Peaches," he purrs, his voice rough with desire. 

"Let me feel you come on my fucking cock."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you through the aftershocks until he's buried deep and pulsing inside you.

"Damn," he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. "You're mine now, baby. All mine."

You can only nod in response, your body spent and satisfied. And as he pulls out, you know that there's no going back. You belong to Katsuki.

Restless, Katsuki pushes you onto your knees, his hand fisting in your hair as he guides your face towards his hardening cock. "Open up, slave," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want to please your Master."

You obediently part your lips, your pretty pink tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock as he slaps it against your cheeks. You moan at the taste of him, your pussy already dripping with need.

"That's it, good girl," Katsuki praises, pushing his length past your lips. "Take it all like a good little fuck toy." You relax your throat, letting him slide in deeper as your hands grip his thighs. He starts to thrust, fucking your face with long, deep strokes that make you gag and choke around him.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he groans, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you struggle to take him. "I'm going to use all your holes tonight, slave. Your mouth, your cunt, your ass. They all belong to me."

You whimper around his cock, the thought of being used so thoroughly making your body ache with need. Katsuki pulls out, slapping your face with his slick shaft.

"Crawl to the pillows," he orders, releasing your hair. "On your hands and knees, ass in the air. I want to see that pretty little pussy dripping for me."

You scramble to obey, presenting yourself to him like the submissive slut you are. Katsuki climbs onto the bed behind you, spreading your cheeks wide as he licks a stripe up your dripping slit.

"Mmm, so wet," he purrs, his fingers circling your clit. "So desperate for my cock. Tell me how much you need it, slave."

"I need it, Master," you whimper, pushing your hips back against his face. "Please, I need your big cock stretching me open. I need you to fuck me hard and make me scream." Katsuki chuckles darkly, pressing a finger into your aching hole. "Nasty little Peach," he scolds, pumping his digit in and out. "You'll get what I give you when I give it to you and you’ll love it."

He removes his finger, leaving you empty and wanting. Then, without warning, he slams his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one hard thrust. You scream out, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion. Katsuki doesn't give you time to adjust, pounding into you with brutal force as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Yes, fuck!" you scream, your pussy clenching around him as he rails you into the mattress. "Harder, Daddy! Use me harder!"

Katsuki obliges, snarling as he hammers into you with wild abandon. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts mixing together in a filthy symphony.

"You're mine," he growls, one hand fisting in your hair and pulling your head back. "This pussy belongs to me. Say it."

"It's yours, Master," you sob, your body shaking with pleasure as he fucks you within an inch of your life. "All yours! Please, don't stop!"

Katsuki laughs darkly, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. "I'll stop when I'm fucking done with you," he promises, pounding into you even harder. "And trust me, bunny, we're far from done."

He keeps fucking you like a beast in rut, using your body for his own pleasure as you writhe and moan beneath him. Just as you're about to come undone, he pulls out, flipping you onto your back.

"Suck my cock," he commands, straddling your face and pressing the head of his shaft against your lips. "Get it nice and wet for that tight little G-spot of yours."

You obediently part your lips, taking him into your mouth as you suck and slurp around him. Katsuki groans above you, his hips rocking as he fucks your face.

"That's it, Peach," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "Get it ready for me."

He pulls out, wiping your spit off his cock before lifting your legs over his shoulders. You feel the blunt head of his shaft pressing against your asshole, and you tense instinctively.

"Relax," Katsuki soothes, rubbing circles on your lower back. "Let me in, slave. Let me claim this pussy." You take a deep breath, forcing your muscles to relax as he slowly sinks into you. It burns, stretching you wide open, but the pain quickly morphs into pleasure as he starts to move.

"Fuck, so tight," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eases in and out. "I could live in this pussy, baby. I'm going to fucking ruin it."

He picks up the pace, pounding into you with deep, hard thrusts that make you see stars. Your body responds instinctively, clenching around him as you moan and whimper beneath him.

"Yes, Katsuki!" you scream, your nails raking down his back. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Katsuki complies, his hips snapping against yours as he uses your hole like a vice. He leans down, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss as he fucks you into oblivion.

"That's my good little fuck toy," he praises between kisses, his voice rough with desire. "Taking my dick so well. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be used and filled and fucked until you can't think straight."

You can only nod in response, your body shaking with the force of your impending orgasm. Katsuki feels it too, his thrusts getting harder, faster as he chases his own release.

"Cum for me," he demands, reaching between your bodies to rub hot tight circles around your clit. "Cum on my fucking cock like the desperate little slut you are."

Your final orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki follows shortly after looking into your eyes, burying himself deep and pulsing inside you as he fills you with his hot seed. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting and spent. But even in the afterglow, Katsuki's grip on you never loosens.

"Mine," he growls possessively, nuzzling into your neck. "All fucking mine."

The two of you finally stop, breathless and glowing with happiness. Katsuki tugs you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a protective warmth. He gently nuzzles against your cheek before pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and laced with concern.

You nod, a giggle bubbling up as you snuggle into his neck. His hands trail over your body in comforting strokes, a loving rhythm that makes you feel cherished. "I'll take you to get your hair fixed tomorrow," he murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I still think it looks nice. Even when you're all sweaty and fucked out." A teasing glint sparkles in your eyes as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. 

"You're such a good husband, Suki. Makes me wonder what you'd be like as a dad," you tease, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

Katsuki's eyes darken with a mischievous glint, and before you know it, you're on your back again, your knees draped over his shoulders. His grin is wicked, but his touch is filled with adoration. 

“What—!”

"Ya know somethin’? I wouldn’ be a good husband ‘less I gave in to all of my wife’s wishes," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. 

"So have it yer way, my love."

SO this was my first time writing a full length smut. How'd I do?

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had is baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and lives, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[ctrlhope]

Lily pleaseeee share your favorite ot7 hybrid fics, i can’t find any 😭😭😭😭

OMGGGG BB YOUVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE OKIEEE I LOVE OT7 FICS REAL BAD

I’ve been reading hybrid fics p much since I started reading bts fanfics so… I can hook u up dastardly style 🤩 links under the cut <33

so before I start listing ima be so fr and say I like most of my hybrid fics verryy formulaic. i p much only ready hybrid bts x human reader and I really enjoy the whole plot of ‘y/n inherits bts and doesn’t know what to do!’ Or ‘y/n sees 7 hybrids at the shelter who need help and doesn’t know what to do!’. It feels sooo chicken noodle soup to me and it feels good for my soul <33 so I hope these fics feel like chicken noodle soup for u too and that you love them as much as I do <33

Series

Abundance ✰ @angelicyoongie

HYBRID CLASSIC FICCCC actually one of the first hybrid fics I think I ever read?? Def the first hybrid ot7 which is kinda crazy 😭 perfect chicken soup for the soul <33 probably the basis for the way I like hybrid fics I read formatted now!! you can really see how the authors writing grew with this fic. Was the fic that made me fall in love with hybrids, actually. I love all of her work so bad man [last updated: 10/4/24]

Trouvaille ✰ @spookyserenades

on my main recs list for a REASON!!! MODERN OT7 CLASSIC FIC!!! if you like the slowest of burns… you’ll enjoy this fic heavily. once again my favourite chicken-soup style so I can’t help but recommend it <33 I have… so many words id like to say about coyote jimin and hoseok… but I will remain silent for my own dignity 😔love all of her work terribly <33 [last updated: 8/17/24]

SeVen Uncaged ✰ @/missing_min_meowmeow (ao3) and @/polaritae (ao3)

two part series (first half completed, second half not) detailing the difficulties of adopting 7 hybrids reader was completely unprepared for 🙂‍↕️ YESSS MA’AM!!! LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!! I love how this fic goes into the details of how difficult mentally and physically this kind of change would be for the hybrids. I love the characterisation of each of the boys. I LOVE IT!!!! pls give this series a chance it is so definitely worth it even though it’s unfinished. A love it terribly, in its entirety. I LOVE FLAWED CHARACTERS!!! [last updated: 9/11/23]

Restitution ✰ @/cloudtea (ao3) @cloudteawrites (tumblr)

like I said I REALLY like fanfics where reader comes into a bunch of hybrids and has to deal with the consequences 😭 that being said, this has exactly everything I love in a hybrid fic, I absolutely love the concept, and the stories of where each of the guys came from before. THIS is exactly what I mean when I say a chicken soup fic— warm and comforting. Hopefully the author will come back to it someday <33 it’s so good even though it’s just the beginning [last updated: 4/19/21 — permanent hiatus]

Loving You Isn’t Hard to Learn ✰ @/arduouslove (ao3) @arduouslove (tumblr)

MANNN ITS SO WARM AND COMFORTING!!! like,, i know i keep saying chicken soup and IM SORRY BUT THATS WHAT THESE ARE FOR ME!!! I absolutely adore the concept of a motel for hybrids to go when they need help. And I really love the development we’ve seen so far between Hoseok and jimin. Another fic that was left at the beginning, but truly lovely. Another one I hope the author updates again someday <33 [last updated: 03/07/23]

Still Life ✰ @/king_myg (ao3)

OKAY NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THIS IS ACTUALLY LIKE,,, ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HYBRID FICS IVE READ!! The concept behind it is just so,, intriguing. It’s a yandere fic, so it has that edge to it but the way jungkook just *is* is so…. No you actually just have to read it to understand. I love this fic sooo bad actually. And Yoongi who pretends not to be a hybrid… and!! I really can’t express in words how exciting this was for me to read. I can’t wait to see how the rest of the guys relationships develop with the reader. [last updated: 5/22/24]

Home Calls the Heart ✰ @anonnie-in-wonderland

verryyy cute ot7 fic <33 the first chapter just feels very warm and soft. its adorable how tae wants to 'adopt' a human for his family even though he doesn't quite understand the repercussions of it [last updated: 12/17/22]

About love ✰ @mochiimac

One of my favourite tropes of reader coming into hybrids and them all hating each other right off the bat!! The writing style feels so safe too <33 [last updated: 04/24/3]

A Hundred Percent Human ✰ @/wrienne (ao3) @wrienne (tumblr)

Another CLASSIC ot7 hybrid fic!! I remember reading the first few chapters before I took a break from fanfics back in the day. Each of the characters (bts memebers) are so interesting and I love the personalities the author made around them as well as all the world building they did within the fic. The class system was so interesting to me and TAEHYUNG??? God, such a fun and dynamic story!! Highly recommend you check it out [last updated: 7/24/23]

Daddy’s Money Makes the World Go Round ✰ @/That_Author (ao3)

SOOO warm and comfortable. Guarddog Namjoon rlly just wants to keep the reader safe even though her parents are mean. Their relationship (as well as the rest of the guys that come into the home) is just SO sweet n gentle <3 [last updated: 10/28/22]

Oneshots

Secret Story of the Swan ✰ @purpleyoonn

one of the few yandere fics on the list and oh so sweet <33 the way they gently lure reader is so 🥺 and she gives in easily to their charms 🥺 v cute little oneshot <33 love her a lot

Beastly Gods ✰ @lemonjoonah

A CLASSICCCCCC one of the only (other) yandere fics on this list. mostly taehyung x reader w/ implied ot7 x reader ++ drabbles featuring ot7 x reader. I love this fic so much actually you don’t understand. It holds such a special place in my heart PLS READ IT!!

Tangled Hearts ✰ @writersrealmbts

Adorable look into readers life with 7 hybrids <33 truly love how this fic played out and the interactions the members had with eachother and the reader. ITS JUST REAL CUTE OKAY!!!! Makes me all soft nd gushy!! Very cute <33 i love it.

To Be Read / Currently Reading

Kindness ✰ @/angelaronin (ao3)

Stray Cat Strut ✰ @/typhloticharuspex (ao3)

Meritocracy ✰ @/saylilirose (ao3)

The Dog Days are Over ✰ @/mintedmango (ao3)

Redamancy ✰ @/dalgi_jungoo (ao3)

A Sweet Change ✰ @/kagsii (ao3)

Peculiar Pack ✰ @/dollremi (ao3)

If anyone has any reads I didn’t mention comment them or message me them!!

** I’ll update this as I read more / find more fics I’ve read in the past that I enjoyed!! By no means is it complete, these are just the fics I’ve read/reread recently nd enjoyed <33 Currently going through my tumblr likes to see if I’ve missed any <33 ✰ last updated: 01/19/25

Main Rec List | individual/poly hybrid rec list (coming soon)

[xogiulianna]

BACK TO THE BASICS

no matter how hard you try - you always let hamzah back in

contains : ex bf hamzah (he’s kind of a dick), oral (f receiving)

this was the longest it’s been without hamzah showing up at your doorstep. it'd been almost two months, he hadn’t texted or called like he usually did, claiming that he missed you and just had to see you.

you like to believe that you’re a strong-minded person. you and hamzah broke up, and you live perfectly fine on your own without him. you don’t need him at all.

yet - somehow, he always finds a way to worm himself back into your mind, your heart, your bed.

he didn’t give you any signs this time, but there he was, standing at your front door, a smug look already adorning his features.

you immediately shake your head when your gaze lands upon him, not wanting to believe that he’s actually here again.

“no- no. i can’t do this anymore, hamzah.” you immediately dismiss him before he even speaks.

“what d’you mean?” he says, feigning confusion. “just wanna see you, it’s been a while.”

“i know it’s been a while,” you retort, eyeing him up and down. “it should stay that way.”

he scoffs, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. he glances off to the side, lightly shaking his head as if he can’t believe that you’re not immediately letting him in.

“i know you don’t mean that.” he says lowly, the tone in which he speaks piercing right through you like a knife.

your heart clenches in your chest - he’s right. you don’t mean it. you miss him. you just don’t want to admit it to him, or even yourself. he has a hold on you, subconsciously.

you want to keep a strong front, but deep down you know that hamzah is the only person who can break you down piece by piece.

“c’mon. i miss you.” he adds, rather bluntly.

“no, i- this isn’t how breakups work.” you murmur, your gaze softening.

you two had come to the decision that your separation would be mutual, but you both knew that you didn’t truly want it to happen as much as he did.

“this isn’t about us breaking up,” hamzah says, taking a step closer and leaning against the doorframe, a hesitant hand reaching out to touch your waist. “that doesn’t matter right now.”

his eyes move to meet yours, assessing your expression for any hint of refusal before fully snaking his arm around your back, his hand coming to rest in the curve of your waist on the other side of your body.

you can’t help but partially melt under his all-too-familiar touch. your eyes rake over him - his disheveled curls, the cocky ease in his posture, the grin plastered on his face. you hate that he still looks exactly like the man you fell in love with in the first place.

you’re torn between shoving him away and slamming the door in order to keep your dignity, or giving in to what you really want and letting him win again.

“of course it matters, hamzah,” you say, putting on a harsher tone. “you can’t keep doing this. you act like i’m just sitting around, waiting for you, all the time.”

“i know you’re not,” he quickly replies, lacing his voice with sympathy. “but that doesn’t mean you need to shut me out when i do wanna see you.”

“and what about my feelings?” you reply. “you only care about what you want.”

“only thing i want right now is you,” he says huskily.

“it’s not that simple.”

“maybe it is.”

his words hang in the air, suffocating your mind. the atmosphere felt heavy with the weight of his presence, his words seeping into every crevice of your brain.

you stare at him for a long moment. he tightens his arm around you, sending a chill up your spine.

“it’s not.” you finally reply.

“okay,” he huffs, cocking his head to the side so it rests on the inside of your doorframe, his face only inches from yours. “but you opened the door for me. i think that means something.. y’coulda just ignored me, no?”

you can’t come up with a good response for that. he has you beat. you saw him through the peephole and still chose to open the door.

you decide to just ignore the fact that he definitely knows exactly what’s he’s doing, persuading you to let him lodge his presence back into your life.

ignorance is bliss, right?

and the smirk that crosses his lips when you start backing up into your apartment, bringing him with you - god, it was more than enough to make your knees weak.

“don’t think this changes anything,” you mutter, reaching past him to shut the door behind the two of you.

“sure, baby.” he replies smugly, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs. he sinks his fingers into your flesh, picking you up effortlessly and holding you against his chest, your arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him.

he makes a beeline straight to your bedroom, laying you down gently on your bed like he’s done countless times before. you were a sucker for this twisted routine you two have developed.

he stands between your legs at the edge of the mattress, towering over you.

“god, how could i not miss you?” he mutters, seemingly to himself. “so pretty, all spread out like this.”

you stare up at him, brows knitted together as you watch him shamelessly eye you, his gaze filled with equal amounts of adoration and lust.

“hamzah..” you breathe out, your breathing tipping into an uneven pattern as you anticipate his next move.

“c’mere,” he chuckles, grabbing your calves and tugging you to the very edge of your bed. “wanna taste you again, beautiful. can i?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

you nod, your hands going to undo your pants but a harsh grasp landing around your wrist makes you immediately pause.

“no,” he says, roughly jerking your hand away from the button of your jeans. “you need to say it. you have to tell me you want this.”

“i do,” you whisper. “i want this - i want you, hamzah.”

he parts his lips, exhaling harshly as he sinks down to his knees, slotting his head between your thighs. his hands replace yours, effortlessly undoing the button and zipper on your jeans.

he glances up at you, his lips tugging into a sly smirk at the sight of you above him. your chest heaving, cheeks flushed, face all screwed up - looking so eager for him.

“always so beautiful, aren’t you?” he whispers, chuckling and shaking his head as he tugs down both your jeans and panties, letting them fall into a pool of fabric on the floor.

his gaze darkens at the sight of your newly exposed core, his breath hitting your inner thighs and making your stomach twist with anticipation.

his hands slowly travel up your legs, fingertips grazing your skin all the way from your ankles to the tops of your thighs. his insufferably unhurried pace makes you feel bothered and needy.

“hamzah, please.” you exhale, fighting the urge to just tug on his hair and force his mouth right where you want it.

he grins up at you devilishly, hooking your legs over his shoulders, taking a firm hold on your legs to keep you in place.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes flitting over your features. “almost turned me away when i showed up, but now you’re begging f’me.”

he trails sloppy kisses up the inside of your thigh, making you whine. “c’mon,” he says into your skin. “ask nicely one more time, angel.”

you bury your hand in his hair, your other arm propping yourself up on your elbow so you can watch him. “please, i need to feel you.. fuck, i can’t wait anymore.” you plead.

he glances up at you, the words escaping his lips before he can think twice.

“tell me you missed me.”

your heart pounds in your chest, your lips hesitating to form the words that your mind wants to say so badly - but you just can’t give up the last ounce of dignity you were holding onto.

“hamzah, please don’t.” you manage to say, almost inaudibly. “don’t do this right now.”

his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, his breathing getting heavier.

“fine,” he huffs. “i’ll just have to make you fuckin’ realize it.”

the words you were about to respond with are whisked away into a sighing whimper as he suddenly trails his tongue along your folds, stopping at your clit and pressing a kiss to it.

you watch his eyes flutter shut, a soft groan rumbling in his chest as his warm mouth envelops your mind, body, and spirit.

“oh- oh, my god,” you moan, your jaw hanging slack. you suddenly can’t seem to hold yourself upright anymore, and your back meets the plush surface of your comforter when you collapse down onto it.

your legs begin to involuntarily twitch as hamzah gets completely lost in your taste, his lips and tongue working overtime to do exactly what he wanted - make you truly realize what you’d been missing.

he lets go of one of your legs, letting it fall limp against the edge of the bed. he drags his fingers up your skin and to your entrance, circling the hole. he focuses on your clit, his nose pressing against you as his tongue swirls around the sensitive nerves.

he pushes two digits inside of your aching pussy, your walls contracting around them, pulling him in.

mindless whines tumble from your lips like a waterfall, your brain no longer having the capacity to form a coherent sentence.

hamzah always finds a way back in.

you feel his lips quickly form a grin before immediately going back to stimulating you, his fingers now curling up inside of you to hit the perfect spot, his mouth and hand working in harmony to bring you closer to release.

he knows you’re weak, he knows you’re giving in - so he repeats himself, just to get the answer he wants.

“fuck- now say it. tell me you missed me.” he rasps in between small kisses and licks on your clit.

this time, there’s no hesitation. drunk words are sober thoughts, and you were definitely drunk on him.

“oh, shit- fuck! yes, i missed you.. so much..” you cry out, your back arching up off the mattress.

“there’s my girl,” he murmurs, letting go of your other leg and pulling his fingers out of you, sucking them clean of your juices. “i fuckin’ knew you did.”

he pulls you even closer to the edge of the bed, practically folding you up and pressing your knees into your chest, pinning you down firmly. “gonna make you feel so good,” he growls. “just like i used to.”

he delves his head back down, eating you out with double the intensity. heat floods your stomach, tension building rapidly.

hamzah is absolutely intoxicated, getting lost in the familiar reactions your body always has. he knows you better than anyone else ever will.

“hamzah, i.. i’m..” you fumble your words, trying to alert him of the fact that your restraint is slipping away.

“i know, baby.” he purrs, sloppily kissing your dripping cunt. “y’can let go. cum for me.”

with a few more strokes of his tongue up your slit, you’re suddenly trembling uncontrollably releasing against hamzah’s mouth with a high-pitched moan while he sucks at your most sensitive spot, hightening every sensation.

he hums in satisfaction, licking up every little bit of wetness that leaks out of your twitching body.

with a final kiss to your puffy clit, he pulls away to look at you and nearly finishes in his pants at the sight.

his gaze darts across your entire frame, taking in the glow of the sheer layer of sweat that now coats your skin, your twisted look of pleasure, your heaving chest and the baby hairs stuck to your forehead - it was the view he thought about every night since the breakup.

staring up at him, gasps escape your parted lips as you try and regain composure after your mind-bending orgasm.

he wipes his chin, ridding his face of the residue your arousal left.

“fuckin’ perfect, every single time.” he breathes out.

“this still..” you try to speak but end up whispering brokenly as you try to clear your mind. “..doesn’t change anything.”

he smirks.

“you said that last time.”

a/n: sorry for lowkey dipping on you guys for like a month but hopefully i’ll get some ideas and start writing again! thank you for so many notes on my last hamzah fic :)

xo giulia

[joemama-2]

wc: 1098

“Hey,” you hear from beside you. Your head swivels to your left, immediately spotting the bright grin the pink-haired man sports beside you. Head tilted slightly and leaning against the bar top by his forearm. You spare a brief glance at it, noticing the veins that run up along his flesh, the hint of muscles that peek out from beneath his white shirt. “You all by yourself?” He asks in a friendly tone, getting himself comfortable in the seat next to you.

On instinct, you want to decline. However, it’s a Saturday night, you’re at a bar, a little tipsy…so where’s the fun in that? “Maybe.”

He chuckles, his eyes fixated on your features. Almost too fixated, like he’s actively forcing himself not to look anywhere else. (The way your ass perks out from the way you’re sitting; that dress doing nothing to hide it) “Maybe. Does that mean I can stay?”

“Depends.” You swivel the remnants left of your drink in your glass.

“On?”

“If you make it worth my while.”

His eyebrows raise slightly, but his grin widens, revealing a dimple that only adds to the charm of his boyish features. His honey eyes exhibiting a tiny gleam from beneath the dimmed lighting. “Guess I better start working for it, then.” He straightens, gesturing to the bartender with a casual wave. “Another for me, and…” He pauses, tilting his head toward your glass. “Whatever the pretty woman here is drinking.”

The bartender nods, already turning to prepare your order, and Yuji swivels his body to face you fully, resting his elbow on the bar. “Alright,” he says, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the countertop. “What does ‘worth your while’ mean, exactly? Drinks, conversation, bad pick-up lines?”

You hum thoughtfully, pretending to mull it over. “Well, you’re off to a decent start. But I don’t think a drink’s going to cut it.”

“Oh, I see.” He leans in just slightly, enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne—something clean and fresh, like citrus with a hint of spice. You feel a familiar warmth pool in your gut, having to hold your body back from instinctively leaning in. “You’re the type who needs to be impressed. Alright, fair enough. Let’s skip the small talk, then.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

He grins, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his eyes. “Well, I could tell you I saved a cat from a tree once, but that’d be too cliché, right? Or that I know how to make a killer pancake from scratch.”

Your lips twitch as you try to stifle a laugh. His humor feels enticing and intimate. “And you think pancakes are impressive?”

“Only when you’re craving them,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to suggest he’s enjoying this far too much. “And trust me, I make the best pancakes.”

The drink arrives in front of you, and you take a slow sip, letting his words linger. “Alright, pancake master,” you say finally, setting your glass down. “Consider me intrigued. But I’ll warn you now—flattery’s not going to work on me.”

“Oh, I’m not flattering you.” He smiles, leaning back with an easy confidence that feels entirely unforced. “I’m just stating facts. But if you’re intrigued…” He shrugs lightly, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of determination. “I must be doing something right.”

“Or I’m just being nice and humoring you,” you add on, lifting the glass to your pink lips. His gaze is laser focused on the action, watching you tilt your head back and shift your eyes closed. Seeing your throat bob up once and then back down as you consume the burning liquid. Darting his tongue out to run across his lower lip, clearing his throat subtly and shifting in his seat.

His awkwardness is cute, you think to yourself.

“That’s fine too. I don’t mind.” He ends up saying, resting his cheek against his palm and ignoring the heat that crawls up his neck.

For some reason now, you’re looking at him in a different light. His cologne is pulling you more in by the second, his casual, confident demeanor that’s not too cocky, his spiky hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it, and the way his hand is itching closer to yours. He’s wearing a thin, gold chain around his neck that coincidentally houses a small charm of your first initial.

Huh.

“What’s your name, pretty?” He asks, voice tilting in a curious manner.

You find yourself instantly obeying, telling him your name. The alcohol you’ve consumed is making your skin feel flushed, or maybe it’s the way his smile grows more genuine, his thick fingers gently running over your smaller ones. Weaving them together before feeling across your rigid knuckles. “You know, that happens to be my favorite word.”

“What is?” Your head tilts, turning your hand the other way so he could massage the lines of your palm.

“Your name.”

The laugh that falls from your lips is automatic. “Cheesy.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with cheesy?”

Pulling your hand away, you stand up from your barstool. Overestimating yourself because as soon as your feet hit the hard floor, you’re feeling your body sway backwards. The man works quickly, faster than you could react. Strong arm wrapping around your waist, keeping you tethered to his chest. He looks down at you, eyes flashing with concern.

You’re meeting his stare, the intoxicating scent of his feels more invading than before. But you’re welcoming it this time, head tilting up to nose at the side of his neck. All the while he’s silently bending his head down so you could get a better sniff, smiling to himself with the tip of your nose pokes at a sensitive spot.

After a couple seconds, your arms wrap around his neck. “God, I told you not to wear this. You know what it does to me.”

He laughs in your ear, pulling his other arm around your waist. “It’s not my fault, you know I love Sauvage.” You grumble as he leads you away from the bar, over to a booth. “So, you lost.”

“Shut up.”

He pulls you down to his lap, tapping lightly at your ass then squeezing, now taking the time to admire your assets shamelessly. “What? It’s true.”

“You almost lost. I saw it in your eyes.” You tell him, lips pulling down into a frown.

He leans forward slightly and places a quick kiss to them. “You know I can’t help it. Your ass is a siren’s call to me. Can I bite—”

“No.”

[georgiapeach30513]

How I'm Looking At You, Part 7

Summary: It's time to raise a barn

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, degradation, sex in public, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Your eyes roam over the tall expanse of the man in front of you.  No day has ever made it clear just how different Ari is to the Amish men than today.  You’d always fancied the men in your community as strong, hefty men that built their bodies just from daily work.  

But Ari Levinson.  

Ari was built by something celestial.  Every cord of his muscles were sculpted by God, himself.  Rippling and sweaty, and just want you want to curl up with at the end of every day.  Have his arms pull you in close, and keep you right with him. 

Barn raisings are nothing new to the community.  But that man, your man, barking out orders to the Amish men that weren’t pulling their weight is entirely new.  Thankfully you can blame your heated skin on the summer sun because your warmth spreads from your core all the way to the tips of your toes.  You stop mid-walk to watch him roll up his sleeves, and wipe his brow.  Watching as he pants, leaning over with his hands on his knees as he glares at the men that are less than him. 

“Don’t you work for him?” Ruth saddles up beside you, staring at what’s yours.  You didn’t wonder if he was yours, he is.  Plain and simple, that man belongs to you, and one day he was going to claim you in a more traditional sense.  

“I do,” you answer.  Your voice cracks, and she turns to look at you.  Her eyes narrowing at you.  “He’s quite sufficient.” 

Ruth recently got married.  Several years younger than yourself.  She’s not a prude to the ways of women and men being alone together.  Not like the much younger girls who just wanted to provide children for their husbands.  “Your parents allow you to be alone with him?” 

“I’m not alone.  There’s three men that work for him,” but you and Ari have the house to yourself.  You didn’t care to talk about all the ways that Ari had tasted you.  It wasn’t any of Ruth’s business. 

“Four men, and you,” she hums, clicking her tongue.  It runs all over your nerves.  She’s annoying.  You bet that she didn’t even know what coming was.  You doubt that her husband would have his tongue inside of her like Ari’s has been in yours.  Doubtful that she was able to soak her husband because he knows exactly how to reach inside of you, and pull out an orgasm that is otherworldly.  Did she even know what an orgasm was? 

“I guess your parents are used to disappointment.” 

“I guess you are as well,” she furrows her brows.  Her icy stare looks your body up and down as she glares at you.  You know she feels disappointment every time her husband pumps twice inside of her before he’s crawling off, and she hasn’t finished. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Hmm, maybe you should ask your husband about his activities with the boys,” her husband, Samuel, may not work for Ari, but he is friends with Jacob.  No doubt the town harlot has entertained him as well.  They probably have gatherings of claiming to pleasure her, when all they succeed in doing is getting their dicks wet.  Ari calls that little dick attitude.  

“Do you think you’re too good for an Amish man?” Now that’s a funny thing to say to you.  “You were courted…”

“Attempted,” you remind her.  Her tongue clicks in her mouth.  It isn’t bragging.  You weren’t interested in any of them.  

“Just how many men came to your door wanting to court you?” 

She’s a nasty piece of work, and pissing you off.  You want to shut her up, and walk away.  That way you can spend your time in the now raised barn, with the music.  “A lot more than you had.  Was it just the one?” She glares at you.  “Must be miserable to know you were number two.” 

Holding your nose in the air, you turn and walk away from her.  That was surely a sin.  And should she mention it to anyone, you could be punished for that.  Men want what they can’t have.  You weren’t up for sale, like so many of the women here are, and the men in the community knew that, and wanted you more because of it.  

You are you.  You didn’t want an Amish man then, and you definitely don’t want one now.  Your father is a rare breed that cares more for your happiness than the expansion of his family.  You’re thankful for that.  

You hate it here.  Each day that passes, you’re reminded more and more of just how much you hate it.  The judgemental stares of the women, and worse, the hungry stares of their men.  It’s like the people in your age bracket know the secret that you and Ari have been keeping.  Feeling as if you’re carrying the pleasure he gives you like a badge that everyone can see.  

You also notice the way too young gaggle of girls, twittering and pointing at Ari.  At what is yours.  He is yours.  He is all yours.  Every ounce of his tanned body is yours.  Every freckle that is sprayed across his chiseled face.  You shouldn’t feel jealous, but seeing everyone noticing Ari makes you want to take him down to the ground and kiss him.  Ferally claiming him, so they quit gawking at him.  You yearn even more for him.  

You go to a table, and retrieve a lemonade.  Trying to keep your eyes on Ari as he steps up to your parents.  He smiles, extending a hand for your father to shake, and your heart swells with pride.  He’s being as cordial and Amish as he can be.  Smiling at the right times to your mother, and she beams at him.  His charm captivating them both.

And then he nods his head, flicking his hat as he makes an immediate step towards you.  “Your parents have given me permission to dance with you for the rest of the day,” if he shows himself dancing, there will be others that will try to get his attention.  They won’t enjoy you taking up all of Ari’s time, and all Ari cares about is taking all of your time. 

Being here is showing everyone in this fucking community that you are spoken for.  That when you disappear, you hope that they realize that you are with him.  And he is going to take the best care of you.  He wasn’t going to hide you away from the world, while you dreamed of a life that wasn’t here.  No.  He’s going to give you the world.  You didn’t even realize just how much Ari is worth.  And you didn’t care.  

He spins you around the barn.  His smile reaches all the way to his eyes as the two of you dance around.  Feeling every bit of the princess in your books as he shows you off.  Faces and voices smear together, and you only see Ari, and feel him as you revel in the fact that you are openly with him.  For the first time truly being able to be with him, while every female in this community stares enviously at how much Ari is into you.  

Reaching behind your back, you reposition his arm, “You’re getting too low,” you remind him.  He rolls his eyes, pulling you even closer to him, “Careful.  There is a bit of acceptable behavior.  And everyone is watching us.” 

“Let them,” of course he didn’t care what anyone said.  Deep down he understands the precarious dynamic you have with your community.  You didn’t agree with their methods either, but you still live here.  You still have their rules to follow.  Out there, people wouldn’t even care if he captured your lips with his as he slows down to just swaying to the rhythm.  Kissing you like his life depended on it.  

But this isn’t normal, and he won’t have you leave your community labeled a whore because you dare to fall in love.  Yes, he can say it, he’s falling.  Finally giving himself the time to fall.  But you weren’t like any of the women he’s dated or fucked.  You are someone special entirely.  

“I think I need a drink,” You breathlessly tell him.  He wishes he was the one that made you sound so exhausted.  Not because of dancing either.  He wishes that the movement of his body is the reason that you sound like that.  “Would you like something?” He shakes his head no, watching you carefully as you retreat.

Leaving his side should not have been an open invitation to other women to ask for a dance, and yet it is.  You glare at them surrounding Ari.  Giggling.  They always giggle when a man they fancy is in their midst.  But the touching — that is what infuriates you.  Those are your arms to touch, and you don’t care much for sharing him.  

Not spinning around gives you the ability to listen in on the gossip, and the men don’t like their daughters, sisters, and even wives touching Ari either.  You hear one mentioning that they were going to have to put their wife in her place.  Smiling and winking at his friend.  Gross.  You doubt that the men here possessed the ability to treat a woman the way that Ari treats you.  Nor do you enjoy hearing about it.  

The only one you want to hear disgusting things from is the man that is politely refusing a dance over and over again.  None of the women have ever seen a man quite like him.  But you don’t like them touching him.  Looking at him the way they are.  They look like rats digging through a dumpster.  They’re disgusting, and going after — while he’s touched you, you’ve never so much as touched him.  Not like the books have said.  

Your mind reels with the crazy jealousy that is building up in you.  A rage settles into your stomach because he is yours.  Nobody else’s.  They don’t deserve him.  

Hmm, you set down your glass, and spin away from Ari.  Walking out of the barn.  He’s kept his eyes on you the entire time, and when he sees you leave, and not head back to save him from the fucking giggles, it frustrates him.  “Can you excuse me,” he says, barging past their onslaught of attempts to keep him to stay.

This is dangerous territory.  Leaving the confines of chaperones to follow you outside, and alone.  It doesn’t sound too bad.  For him.  But he dares any asshole to make a smart ass comment about you with him.  His strides are long, and with so much purpose as he seeks you out.  And finds you off by a shed, leaning up against the building with your arms crossed over your chest before walking to the opposite side, and blocking the gathering from you.

He rounds the corner, making a show of his eyes looking over your body in this stupid dress, “I didn’t want their attention,” he says, stopping too far away from you.  You turn your head to the side, looking up at the sky.  “I see.  So you ran away from me because of your jealousy.” 

“I’m not jealous!” 

“No, why would you be jealous?  There’s nobody here that I want to taste besides you,” he says, stepping closer.  He holds onto your chin, and lets his thumb paint over your mouth.

“You say such things.” 

“And what?  They bother you?” You’re not entertaining that thought.  He sighs, but his mouth turns up into a cruel smile, “No, words don’t bother you, do they, Darling?  You wouldn’t mind me telling you that from the moment I arrived all I have thought about was pushing you to your knees, and watching you gag on my cock.” 

“And yet, you’ve never done that,” his brow cocks up, and his smile is sinister as his eyes roam over your hidden curves.  “Instead, you’d claim me in almost every way that a man can claim a woman apart from shoving your cock in my pussy, and coming inside of me,” he clears his throat, watching you.  “But I have never claimed you.” 

Ari pushes his thumb into your mouth, and you circle your lips around him, sucking on the appendage.  Looking up at him so innocently, and he knows you’re anything but innocent. 

“Get on your knees,” he grunts out, and you stare at him shocked.  “I didn’t stutter, Darling, get on your knees,” you still make no movement.  The easiest way for him to figure out where your mind is at is to pay attention to the current book in your rotation, and the current one has a lot of dirty talk.  He is sure that you’re leaving them laying around to where he can pick it up, and see just what filth you’re reading at the time.  “Darling, get on your fucking knees, and take out my cock.” 

Ari crowds you on the side of the shed.  He lays his hand above your head as he leans in closer.  His nose caresses the side of your neck as he inhales your scent.  He rolls his hips into your body, and you yip at the feeling of his warm and throbbing bulge on you.  “Do you even know the things that you do to me?  The ways that I have to come up with to not get hard in front of everyone?  You are a drug to me, and I can’t get enough of you.” 

“Will you fuck me?” Oh your pretty little pout will get you everything that you want.  But he isn’t fucking you for the first time here.  It would be too quick, and he wants you to be able to moan, whimper, and scream out of him.  But he will let you get on your damn knees, so he can fuck your pretty little mouth.  

“Oh, I will enjoy fucking you, and coming right in here,” he taps over your mound, and his smile spreads wider on his features.  “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so hot and bothered right now, baby.  Does thinking about the ways I will claim you turn you on that much?” You pout up at him again, nodding your head.  

“Well, how about I come in here,” his thumb caresses over your lips, and he adds pressure, pushing past the velvet petals.  “Let me fill this pretty mouth full of my cum, and watch you swallow every drop.  Or would you prefer me coming on your tits, and cover them back up, while we walk back to the barn.  Our little secret of you covered in me.  But even knowing I’m in your belly is enough for me.  These boys here can never make you feel as good as I make you feel, huh?” 

“Ari, I wanna suck your dick,” you whimper, starting to sink to your knees.  You undo the safety pins on your dress, and pull the dress apart.  Letting each arm come out the top before your tits are revealed.  He gives each nipple a hard pinch, and flashes his eyes towards his pants. 

“Take me, Darling,” he could just about blow his load from staring at you alone.  The ultimate curiosity.  You’re so timid as you rub your hands over his outline.  Bashfully going to his button, and you undo him.  “Oh, there’s a good girl.  Discover my cock,” you gulp.  Your eyes flicking between Ari, and the present you’re allowed to unwrap. 

“Darling,” you gaze up at him.  Your eyes wide, and pupils deep pools of lustful questions.  “Baby, you do whatever you want.  You won’t be wrong,” Ari’s thumb traces over your lips again, and you choose to suck the appendage into your mouth yourself.  Sucking on his finger while his mouth gapes open.  “Enjoy yourself,” he whispers, pulling his thumb out.

You don’t know how that changes anything, and yet it does.  You want to discover him, and feel him.  Feel his pleasure radiating from his cock and into your mouth.  “Not that I want to speed this up, but just remember I have you on your knees with your tits out when your entire community is partying it up in a barn.” 

“I’d prefer you mounting me,” you feign confidence as you reach your hand into his pants.  Whimpering as your fingers circle around his cock.  He’s pulsing.  Hot.  Heavy in your grip.  You aren’t sure how you’re going to fit him in you, but you’ll be damned if anyone else ever tries again.  Bringing his length up to the surface you smile up at him.  “It’s pretty.” 

He’s gorgeous as he beams down at you with so much pride.  You give his leaking tip a kiss, and moan at his taste.  This is what a man tastes like.  Musky.  It is all Ari, and you want to commit this scent and taste to your memory.  You’ll never get this chance again.  Your lips learn his curves as you kiss up and down his member.  Flattening your tongue, and following the throbbing on his cock.  

“God, you’re so beautiful,” his voice is broken as he tries not to explode all over your face.  You’d look gorgeous painted in his cum.  You’d look gorgeous on your back while he pumps you full of cum.  His mind is racing in all the ways he sees you with his cock.  Your sweet little smile up at him as you grip the base of his length has him nearly losing control. 

“Like this, Darling,” he groans, wrapping his hand around your own.  “Grip me tight.  Oh fuck yeah,” he moans as you copy him.  “Take me in your mouth,” you turn around, looking behind you before gazing up at him.  Listening to the distant revelry of your community.  Deciding you and Ari are truly alone before taking a deep breath.  

“Eyes on me,” you stare up at Ari through your lashes, and open your mouth wide.  As wide as you can make it before you let his spongy tip push past your lips, and you close your mouth around him.  Giving him a hard suck before you take more of him.  He fills your mouth so much your cheeks have a delightful sting that you become addicted to.

“Holy shit,” Ari moans.  Mouth falling open as he stares at you.  You want to make him proud, so you don’t stop until you're gagging at him touching the back of your throat, and your eyes fill with tears.  Gazing up at him with so much innocence, and yet you have his cock pushed all the way back in your throat, “Good god,” his voice is silk, while your lungs scream for air that you don’t want to give them.  

“You better breathe,” he says before you pull yourself off him.  Oxygen fills you up so quickly that it stings.  Burns so much, but the way that he is gazing at you makes you crave more.  So you inhale his cock, and start bobbing on him.  Eyes staying on him as you hollow out your cheeks.  

Listening to the books, you twist your hand, fisting him in sync with your movements, and his sounds — the sounds he makes sends slick pooling to your core.  Drool drips down his shaft, and you use it to lube up your hand and squeeze tighter.  He chirps.  Squeaking out some odd noise of pleasure, and you go harder.  

“Fuck.  Me,” he pants out.  Ari’s pants fall to the ground, and with your free hand, you cup his balls.  Fondling him gently, and you smile over his cock.  “Yeah.  Just like that.  You’re my fucking slut aren’t you?” 

“Mhmm,” you gurgle, and start bobbing on him faster.  You would be whatever Ari wanted you to be.  Just as long as you can have him just like this.  

“Such a pretty fucking cock slut.  I’m going to have you so stretched and full of me.  Going to have your cunt molded to my cock.  Fill you up with cum, until,” your movement stutters a moment as you stare up at him.  Nothing is moving, and you nod.  “You want me to fuck a baby in your belly?” 

It sounds magical, and yet you’re not fully sure.  It’s too soon because you just want Ari to show you all the ways that he can make you come.  You want him to devour you and destroy you.  But eventually, you want his baby in your belly. 

“Breeding kink does not mean we have to have a child.  It just means you are just a cum dumpster.  You always want me to fill you up,” yep.  You move over him again.  You weren’t ready for a baby, but the idea of Ari keeping you filled with him, you love.  Being able to feel his warmth seep out of you while you walk around still playing the innocent Amish woman.  

The idea of walking around filled with Ari makes your head spin.  Walking out onto the porch with those stupid boys working, knowing that Ari was fucking you senseless, and left you with a piece of him inside of you.  There’s something primal about having him inside of you.  He feels it, too.  “You were born to be filled with my seed,” he grunts as his hands grab the back of your head. 

“I’ll make you walk home with me dripping — FUCK!” he screeches, and you feel his balls tighten.  “I’ll be dripping down your leg,” yes.  Yes.  You want him all over you, and as deep as he can go.  “Claimed.  Filled.  With.  Me,” he growls, and makes the prettiest sound as his head tilts back, and he stares up to the heavens.  He explodes into your mouth, and you whimper at the fullness of him.  You suck down as much as possible.  Slurping as you swallow, but a bit dribbles out your mouth, and he sighs.

Ari’s eyes stay on the mess as it drips from your chin to your exposed tits, and he yanks you up to him.  Desperately he paws at your dress, rucking it up, and lifts up one of your legs.  Too quickly his hand goes between your thighs, moves aside your panties, and he sinks two thick fingers into your warmth.  Pushing them in and out of you like a mad man, while your body starts to go limp.

Ari holds you tighter to him as he fingers you.  “Ari,” you’re so weak.  Your body is overstimulated with everything.  The taste of him.  The soreness in your throat.  The sensitive nub that Ari is playing with.  “Ari!” 

“Shh, you better keep your cock sucking mouth quiet.  I’d hate for someone to see you stretched over my fingers,” your slickness drips down into his hand, and he moans at your wetness, “I’d just go ahead and let them see your cunt filled with my cock.  Let them hear your words when I split you open for the first time,” his words.  The way they make you feel so dirty, and still adored at the same time.  Ari would.  He would not care for people to see him fuck you.  You can’t even be sure that you would care.  

That’s the space you're in right now.  You don’t care.  All that matters is him.  Ari.  And the way that he is pounding into.  The way that he slams your mouth against his.  Kissing you, while he swallows your sounds.  Needing you to writhe with pleasure more quietly.  But your pussy is noisy.  Squelching loudly, and your feet lose purchase, and you start slipping as pleasure encapsulates your body.  

His arm wraps around you tighter.  Holding you up as you succumb to your orgasm, and you scream into his mouth.  Pulling your mouth off his as your chest heaves.  “You’re so fucking pretty when you come,” you only feel pretty with him.  

“I’m going to squat down, and clean you up with my tongue.” 

“Ari, no,” you whisper, but he sinks anyway.  Slinging your dress over his head, and his tongue flattens on your split.  His hands move up to your tits where he tweaks your nipples.  His laugh rumbles on your sex when you start grinding on him.  “Ari,” nobody has ever said his name the way you do.  The ability to sound so desperate, and needy.  Nor has he wanted to hear his name come from anyone the way he does you. 

“Ari, I’m going to come again.” 

“I wish you would,” he chuckles again.  Slurping up your honey.  He kitten licks your clit before his lips suck the little nub into his mouth, and you press your hands onto the shed.  Biting on your lips as he sucks you.  His hand fucks into your body again, and you start convulsing.  It’s wrong to think of such, but he is a god with his mouth.  And you lose all sense of where you are as you come undone again.  

“Thatta girl,” Ari says on your core.  He takes his hand under your dress where he spreads your velvety lips apart.  “You seriously have one of the prettiest pussies I have ever seen.” 

“That’s enough,” you groan, and waddle off him.  He sure is proud of himself sitting on the ground, and you angrily pull your top back on.

“Why’re you in such a rush to get dressed?” 

“Why are you in such a mood to talk about someone else’s pussy?” 

“Mmm,” he’s got to make a note to stop doing that.  You have a jealousy issue, regardless of whatever you say.  “What if I called one of my friends, and…” he growls.  The idea of you fucking anyone but him pisses him off.  You don’t belong to any other loser.  You belong to him.  

“Can’t even say it, hmm?” What the fuck are you even talking about.  “You don’t like the idea of me on my knees, while one of your friends fucks into me,” no.  He hates that idea.  “You don’t like thinking about someone coming inside me.” 

“That’s enough,” you laugh, reaching into his pocket for a safety pin as you start to do up your dress.  “What’s so funny?” 

“I’m not the only one jealous here, Ari.  I don’t want another man, but I would appreciate it if you quit reminding me of the fact that you have had other women,” do you feel the way he does when he thinks about another man having you?  Do you really feel this anger thinking about anyone touching him?  Feeling him?  Pulling sounds out from him?  

Because the idea that anyone could even just see you the way he does makes him angry.  It makes his skin crawl, and he wants to scream, “Ari, you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous,” jealous isn’t exactly the word because you haven’t had a man.  “I’m possessive.  And you belong to me.” 

“I like that word.  Possessive.” 

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” Smirking, you shrug.  You liked Ari being possessive.  Couldn’t wait for him to own you.  

“We should really get back to the party before people realize that we’ve been missing,” you’re right.  He really shouldn’t push with you too much.  This could go so wrong for you.  He didn’t want a dramatic exit, but something like getting caught sucking his cock, would do just that.  You’d be shunned.  Labeled as a whore because you dare to do something that is natural.  He didn’t trust these little boys in men’s bodies here.  Didn’t like it at all.  

It’s still not the harvest season, so he has to wait.  

“I think we should go on a proper date,” he hums, and your fingers tickle along on his own before he weaves his fingers in yours.  Holding you like this, even though it is simple, makes him swell with pride.  You belong with him, “I think we should leave the house real early.  Leave little man in charge.  Ride out of here.  Have a dress for you to wear.  Take you dancing.  Maybe dinner on a boat.  I don’t know, whatever you wanted.” 

“You’re the expert.  And yes, I will go on a date with you.  And I think  I would like to stay out later than I’m supposed to,” glimpsing the community in the distance, you drop his hand, and run up ahead.  “It’s up to you.” 

“You little minx,” he says under his breath as you walk back into the crowd.  He’ll spend the rest of the night watching you, and asking you to dance.  Let everyone here get a look at just how happy the two of you make each other.  Nothing fake, but real.  The most real thing he has ever felt.  You hope they are all envious of just how he makes you feel, but also, how he’s going to drop to his knees and make you happy.  And he will.  He’ll risk it all.  Because you are worth every bit of it. 

You’re everything.  And that’s exactly how you make him feel. 

Next

Masterlist

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[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Geo has officially become my second favorite character in Tkatb. As an asexual person writing about another asexual-coded character, I have to say—he makes me feel seen. It’s like he literally can’t take his eyes off me (and let’s face it, with Geo, that’s more intense than romantic).

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

But let’s be serious: I love him platonically. Sorry Brittany.

So, of course, I’ll share my headcanons about Geo, some shared by other fans, and even a few from the game’s lore. And no, before you ask, I won’t be writing about Sol in this “Type of Boyfriend” trope. He’s the obvious main choice in the game, and countless talented writers have already explored that lane. 

Geo, however? His quiet, unsettling stares deserve its moment in the spotlight.

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off? 

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down! 

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe. But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them. 

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter. 

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too… 

The kind of observant where he notices *everything*. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead. It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.  

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And that’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to change him, just kind of… stuck around. 

Geo doesn’t do well with people who push or pry, so the fact that you respected his space but still showed up? Yeah, that got to him. Even if he’d never admit it out loud.

What’s wild is that he notices everything. Stuff you didn’t even realize about yourself? Yeah, he’s clocked it already. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way you twirl your hair when you’re stressed, or even the exact date you mentioned something offhand weeks ago. It’s almost unsettling how much he takes in, but it’s also one of the ways he shows how much he cares.

He’s not the type to constantly shower you with compliments or grand gestures, but his quiet, steady presence speaks volumes. Geo’s the guy who will fix something for you before you even realize it’s broken or offer exactly what you need without you having to ask. 

And when he does open up or say something heartfelt? You know it’s real because he doesn’t just say things lightly.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Okay, let’s get real—Geo is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked up in a box somewhere with a “Do Not Disturb” sign slapped on it. But here’s the thing: when Geo cares, he cares. Like, no half-measures. 

Once he lets someone in—which is a feat on its own—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And let’s be honest, why would Geo want anyone else? He’s not the type to hop from person to person—when he chooses you, he chooses you.

I’m pulling his asexual card here because it just fits. Geo isn’t about flashy romance or grand declarations. For him, love isn’t in the words or PDA—mind you he HATES PDA—it’s in the quiet, consistent ways he shows up for you. He wouldn’t just call you his partner; he’d treat you like you’re the most important person in his life, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

And the way he shows his affection? It’s all in the details. Geo is hyper-observant—he probably knows you better than you know yourself. 

Again, he’ll pick up on the smallest things, like how you take your coffee or tea, the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, or how you’re always talking about that one book or game you’re obsessed with. And he’ll use that information to make your day in ways that feel effortless.

Expect random, thoughtful surprises. Maybe your favorite snacks just happen to appear on your desk when you’re having a rough day, or you’ll find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see in your bag without him saying a word. He’s not going to make a big deal about it either—he’ll just shrug it off like it’s no big deal, but deep down, he’s paying attention to every detail that makes you you.

Geo’s love language is subtle, sure, but it’s also steady and reliable. 

You won’t always see it coming, but you’ll feel it in the way he’s always quietly there for you, no matter what.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s hella protective—like, protective to the point where you know he’s got your back no matter what. But don’t think for a second he’s the clingy or overbearing type. Nah, that’s not his style. 

He’s more of a silent sentinel kind of guy, keeping a close eye on everything while letting you do your thing. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That trust speaks volumes. He knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to baby you or hover like some overprotective shadow.

But let’s get one thing straight—if someone crosses the line with you? Game over. Geo might seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to defending you, that sharp tongue of his comes out swinging. 

And let’s not forget the fact that he’s an archer. I’m just saying, if someone pushes too far, they’d better pray they’re not anywhere near a target. He wouldn’t need to say much—one cold glare, one well-aimed shot at a bullseye, and everyone around would get the message.

What’s even better is that Geo doesn’t make a scene about it. He’s not the type to start unnecessary drama or puff up his chest to prove something. He’ll shut down any nonsense with a few carefully chosen words or, if it comes to it, an intimidating presence that leaves no room for argument. 

He’s protective, yeah, but it’s in this quiet, no-nonsense way that just makes you feel safe without feeling suffocated.

And honestly? That balance is rare. He’s like your personal bodyguard without the need for the over-the-top theatrics. It’s not about control—it’s about making sure you know you’re valued and looked out for. 

And for Geo, that’s everything.

✑ A Hidden Heart

Geo’s not the type to be up in your face 24/7. Nah, for him, it’s all about quality over quantity. He’s perfectly fine with spending an hour sitting next to you in total silence, maybe reading or just walking side by side. 

You don’t even have to talk—he’s not big on words anyway. It’s the connection that matters to him, not the setting or how much time you spend together. 

To Geo, a quiet moment shared between just the two of you means more than any loud party or over-the-top date night ever could.

Now, let’s talk about Geo’s bluntness. We all know he’s sharp-tongued, unfiltered, and way too honest for his own good. It’s kind of his thing. But when it comes to you? That edge softens, and he tries—tries being the keyword here—to rein it in. He’s still going to tell you exactly what he thinks because, let’s be real, that’s just who he is. 

But with you, he’ll make the effort to phrase things more gently. You’re one of the very few people who gets that version of him, and let’s be honest, that’s kind of special. You get to see the side of him that’s not all sharp remarks and icy glares, the side that actually cares.

And while Geo might seem like this stoic, broody guy who doesn’t let anything faze him, he’s secretly a total softie when it comes to you. Again, he’s not going to smother you with hugs or drown you in words of comfort when you’re upset—that’s not his style. He’s not like Crowe T-T.

But he’ll be there. 

Sitting beside you when you’re crying, quietly handing you tissues, letting you lean on his shoulder without a word. He listens, like really listens, and you can feel his presence grounding you even when he doesn’t say much.

It’s not that Geo doesn’t care—he just shows it in his own way. A quiet walk, a softened tone, a steady shoulder to lean on. With Geo, love isn’t loud or flashy. It’s steady, subtle, and completely genuine.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well… Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation? 

So… Compliments? Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet. 

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside. And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service? 

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day. 

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package. 

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though. “Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special. And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking. And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked? 

That’s how you win this man over. 

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him. 

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship. 

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts? 

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside? He’s lowkey impressed. Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like, “…You actually get me.”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick. When the gift reflects his personality and interests? 

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket? 

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth 

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it. 

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause. 

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal. 

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously. This man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad. He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive. He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred. You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony. Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, but he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like. It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire. He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason. You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about “proper application techniques” while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying his skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach. Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.”

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at it. His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation. You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his. 

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it. “You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is. 

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it. 

✑ So Damn Competitive

Don’t let Geo’s stoic, “I’m too cool to care” vibe fool you—this man is surprisingly competitive. Like, you’d think someone who’s all about calm and control wouldn’t get riled up over a board game, right? Wrong. The moment you pull out a board game or even a deck of Uno cards, you’re witnessing a transformation. Same too…

Geo doesn’t just play to win—he plays to crush. He’s not loud about it, though. Oh no, Geo’s trash talk is subtle but devastating. “That’s an… interesting move,” he’ll say, his aquamarine eyes glinting with quiet smugness as he places his piece exactly where it’ll ruin your entire strategy. And let’s not even get started on trivia night. This man has an encyclopedic knowledge of random facts, and he’ll flex it in the most deadpan way possible.

But here’s the best part: Geo will let you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. He’ll subtly fumble a move in Jenga or conveniently “forget” the answer to a question during trivia, all while keeping that unreadable poker face. If you call him out on it? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’ll say, completely straight-faced, as if he didn’t just let the tower fall on purpose.

The funniest part is how petty he can get when he doesn’t win. Like, say you beat him in a cooking challenge (because your pancakes were objectively fluffier). He won’t throw a fit, but you’ll catch him side-eyeing your plate like it personally offended him. “Your syrup-to-pancake ratio is off,” he might mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

But his competitive streak isn’t all bad—it’s actually kind of adorable. If you’re struggling with something, Geo will quietly make it his mission to help you improve. 

Trying to get better at a sport? Let’s use Kyūdō, in other words, the Japanese martial art of archery. It started as you’d expect—Geo, all serious and instructor-like, standing behind you to adjust your posture, his hands steady as they guided yours. “Hold it like this,” he’d say, his tone calm and precise. You could tell he was in his element, and honestly? 

He’s kind of hot when he gets all focused like that.

At first, you weren’t great. The arrows went everywhere except the target and Geo’s quiet sighs of exasperation were hilarious. But instead of getting frustrated, he’d patiently explain what you were doing wrong, occasionally muttering things like, “It’s not that hard,” under his breath.

But then something shifted. One day, it just clicked. Suddenly, your arrows weren’t just hitting the target—they were landing dead center. 

Every. Single. Time.

Geo’s reaction? Priceless. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his aquamarine eyes narrowing as he watched your shots. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Except it wasn’t luck. You kept getting better. So much better, in fact, that you started beating him.

The first time it happened, you expected him to be annoyed. But instead, he just stared at the target, then at you, and said, “You’ve been practicing without me.” (Spoiler: You hadn’t.)

From then on, Geo challenges you to little games—first one to hit three bullseyes, trick shots, you name it. And every time you won, you’d catch that subtle crease in his brow like he couldn’t quite believe it.

But despite his bruised ego, Geo was secretly proud of you. You’d catch him smiling—just barely—when you weren’t looking, and if anyone else tried to challenge you? Oh, he’d brag like crazy. “She’s the best shot here,” he’d say, completely deadpan, like he wasn’t lowkey sulking about the fact that you’d surpassed him.

Watching Geo try to outshoot you while pretending he wasn’t bothered was half the fun, you know it’s eating him up inside. “Good game,” he’ll say, his tone perfectly neutral, while internally plotting his revenge for next time.

 It’s all part of the charm, though. 

✑ You’re His Safe Space

Okay, I know—Geo and PDA? They’re not exactly besties. He’s not the guy to be all over you in public; in fact, he hates it.

Holding hands? Brings too much attention.

Kisses in front of people? Absolutely not.

He’s got that whole “reserved and composed” thing going on, and the idea of being openly mushy in front of others? Yeah, hard pass.

But here’s the plot twist: when it’s just the two of you? Total cling mode.

When Geo’s guard is down, he’s secretly so affectionate it’s almost like a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Imagine this: you’re just minding your own business—maybe reading, scrolling on your phone, or binge-watching something—and out of nowhere, you feel his arms snake around you. He doesn’t say a word; he just pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder or burying his face in your hair like it’s his personal safe haven.

It’s his way of saying, “You’re my peace,” without actually having to string the words together. Subtle? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Geo isn’t heartless—not by a long shot. He cares so much, he just doesn’t always know how to package those feelings into neat little boxes with bows on top. He’s the type to skip the love letters and dramatic proclamations and go straight to showing you how much you mean to him.

Actions over words, always.

And okay, let’s be real—some of us can relate to that. Maybe feelings aren’t the easiest thing to express, so we see a bit of ourselves in Geo. It’s not that he’s cold or distant; he’s just navigating his emotions in his own quiet way. And when he finally lets his guard down? That’s when you see his true colors.

After pulling you close, Geo turns you around, his hands lingering gently on your arms. His touch is feather-light, deliberate, as though he’s giving you a moment to realize what’s happening. He pauses, his fingers brushing against your lips in a way that sends a quiet thrill down your spine.

His eyes lock onto yours for a heartbeat—then they drop to your lips, lingering there just long enough for you to feel the tension in the air. When his gaze meets yours again, there’s something unspoken in his expression, a question he doesn’t need to say out loud: Is this okay?

And then, he leans in. It’s not rushed or overly dramatic; it’s a simple, slow movement like he wants to savor every second. His lips meet yours softly at first, testing, then growing a little firmer as he presses closer. It’s the kind of kiss that says a thousand things he wouldn’t dare put into words—trust, vulnerability, and a quiet kind of devotion he’s still figuring out how to show.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and steady as he lingers there for a moment. It’s like time stops, and nothing else matters except the two of you in that little bubble of intimacy.

Geo’s not about grand gestures or big, romantic speeches. But this? This is his way of telling you everything. His actions speak volumes, and each small touch, each lingering look, is filled with a kind of tenderness that words could never capture.

And maybe that’s the most Geo thing about him—he doesn’t need to shout his love from rooftops or drown you in cliché romance. Instead, he gives you moments like this. Moments that feel raw, honest, and entirely yours. Moments where he silently tells you, “You’re my world,” without ever saying a word.

Trust me, it’s worth the wait.

✑ Flaws? There’s a few…

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer. Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way. 

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell. Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him. 

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances. Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good. 

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P. Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with. 

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Lastly, Geo’s got walls on walls. He’s not about to open up to just anyone, and even once he does, it’s a slow process. He’s constantly watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions. It takes someone special to get through that, and even then, he might still keep certain things locked away.

So, What Does This All Mean?

Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him. His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

At the end of the day, Geo’s trust issues are a double-edged sword. They make him fiercely loyal to the people he *does* trust, but they also mean it takes a long time for him to get there. 

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that? That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope. 

But would we want him any other way? Not.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay, let’s get this out of the way again: Geo has serious trust issues. And honestly? Can you blame the guy? He’s been through (we don’t know about) so much that his walls aren’t just up—they’re basically a fortress complete with a moat, a drawbridge, and probably a dragon or two guarding the gate.  

Here’s the deal: nobody really knows Geo. Like, we know he’s loaded, he’s ridiculously good with a bow, and he has a death glare that could probably stop traffic. But beyond that? Nothing. It’s like his life story is classified information, and we’re all just stuck guessing what’s in the classified files.  

So anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building. Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars. 

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy. 

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk. And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends.” Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, what does that mean for literally anyone else? Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger. What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: in the game, he’s not super complicated to figure out. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain. He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

We’re starving for answers!

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── ·

[genderqueerdykes]

complaining about whiny Amab people is literally all that post is. "You don't have to fall into a sassy gay man stereotype" way to misgender and stereotype transfemmes.

I used to follow you and it makes me feel so unsafe knowing how much disdain you have for TMA people.

hello, i am a trans woman. who are you even referring to? "TMA people" is not a cohesive group of people, that doesn't mean anything. that's literally everyone. literally everyone can be affected by transmisogyny. that is not a group of people, that is quite possibly almost literally everyone. there is no cohesive group of "TMA people". like who are you even talking about here? cis gay men? effeminate cis men? feminine trans men? genderfluid people? intersex people? like who are you referring to exactly?

if you seriously think that pointing out genuine, dangerous behaviors in other people is "disdain" for them, then i don't think my blog is for you, anyway, so you are better off unfollowing. disliking someone's actions and behaviors is not the same as disliking them as a person.

this is the exact reason why i'm speaking up about issues within the transfeminine community. people seriously have gotten to a point where you literally cannot criticize transfems and trans women without being told you hate all trans women and transfemmes. this line of thinking is the exact reason why i'm writing these posts and answers. this is not okay. this is why trans men and mascs are terrified to speak because if they ever dare to say ANYTHING about transfeminine behavior, they're told they hate trans women instantly.

trans women and transfemmes are not immune to criticism. we just aren't. we've created this extremely dangerous echo chamber where Trans Women And Femmes Are Right About Literally Everything All The Time Forever And Are The Only Ones Allowed To Talk About Anything! which has fostered an environment where people tell literally everyone else to shut the fuck up about their own identities and only let transfemmes and trans women speak.

transfemmes and trans women also have to accept criticism when it comes to how we interact with other trans people. we are not special.

we do not deserve to get to walk and talk over other people. criticizing specific transfeminine behaviors does not mean you "hate" or "disdain" transfemmes. what, trans women and transfems are allowed to sit around on this website all day long and shit talk transmascs and trans men and loudly and proudly proclaim that they hate trans men, and nobody cares about how they """hate TMES""" but the second someone criticizes a trans woman or a transfemme about how they literally treat other people as subhuman and that's hating someone? trans women who literally hate trans men don't get called out for being violent and shitty, but a trans woman pointing out that other trans women are literally abusing people is "disdain for trans women?"

we seem to think on this website that criticizing tranfemmes = hating them and it's the most unhealthy thing i've ever seen.

if we create and environment where transfemmes and trans women can never be criticized, ever, we're setting ourselves up for disaster, which is quite literally where we're at now. you have to snap out of the mentality that you have to listen to every. single. thing. a transfeminine person or a trans woman says without questioning it and just accept it as fact. trans women and transfemmes can be wrong sometimes. trans women and transfemmes can be assholes sometimes, too.

what we're doing right now is pushing the idea that if you EVER criticize a transfemme or a trans woman, that you're evil and hate trans women. you are the exact reason why i am speaking up about how transfemmes and trans women are not poor defenseless little waifs who can never hurt anyone else ever. trans women are not inherently harmless because we're women. criticizing a BEHAVIOR does not mean you hate the person- you hate their actions. internalize this. stop getting instantly emotional and offended the second you see an ounce of criticism. that's not a good knee jerk reaction to have. you are terrified of open, honest conversation if that's the case.

i'm not sure how else to say it, but supporting and loving transfemmes and trans women does not mean letting us literally hurt other people and get away with it scott free. supporting trans women and transfemmes does not mean allowing us to do literally whatever the hell we want when it comes to how we treat and address others.

please feel free to unfollow if you don't like that i'm pointing out that transfemmes and trans women are literally people and are literally not immune to being assholes deserving of criticism. if you seriously think that, you are part of the problem right now. reassess how you think. "TMA people" isn't a cohesive group of people. who are you even talking about? that's such a massive group of people, i'm not even sure you're aware that "TMA people" isn't just trans women and transfemmes.

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 3) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

Leila isn't trying to make it a whole thing, but that date with William? That man took her to this cute little restaurant tucked away in a corner of Paris where nobody would recognize him, ordered wine that probably cost more than her rent, and spent the whole night actually listening to her talk about her family back in Georgia. Not once did he make her feel like she was just some thick girl he was trying to get with – instead he treated her like she was actually interesting, like her stories about her mama's cooking adventures were the most fascinating thing he'd ever heard.

And when she found out he was half Cameroonian? Maybe Yolanda had a point about her having a type because these West African men were really out here testing her resolve. The way his accent got thicker when he talked about his family, the way he understood exactly what she meant about certain cultural things without her having to explain... it was nice. Really nice.

He didn't try to kiss her at the end of the night, even though she maybe (definitely) wanted him to. Just kissed her hand (which should be corny but somehow wasn't) and said he'd love to do it again soon. She'd gone to bed thinking maybe this could be something.

But then Sunday morning happened and somehow everything else felt small in comparison.

"Avant de commencer l'entraînement," ("Before we start training,") Didier's voice carried across the morning meeting room, "J'ai une annonce à faire." ("I have an announcement to make.")

The room went quiet – well, as quiet as a room full of French footballers can get, which means Marcus was still whispering something to Mike that had them both stifling laughs.

"En l'absence de Kylian," ("In Kylian's absence,") Didier continued, holding up the captain's armband, "nous avons besoin d'un nouveau capitaine." ("we need a new captain.") "Aurélien Tchouaméni."

The room erupted. Leila's never seen someone look so surprised and honored at the same time, like Aurélien couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"Notre nouveau capitaine!" ("Our new captain!") Marcus shouted, starting an impromptu chant.

"MON CAPITAINE!" Jules was the first to reach him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Tu l'as mérité, mon frère." ("You earned it, my brother.")

"Finalement, quelqu'un va peut-être réussir à le faire sourire," ("Finally, someone might succeed in making him smile,") Cama teased, doing an exaggerated salute. "Oui, Capitaine!"

The whole team picked up the salute, turning it into this ridiculous ceremony that had even Didier trying not to laugh.

"Je suis honoré," ("I'm honored,") Aurélien finally managed to say, voice thick with emotion as Didier handed him the armband. "Je ne sais pas quoi dire..." ("I don't know what to say...")

"Dis-nous qu'on va défoncer Israël!" ("Tell us we're gonna destroy Israel!") Mike called out.

"Et qu'on peut manger la cuisine de Leila ce soir!" ("And that we can eat Leila's cooking tonight!") Marcus added, which started a whole new round of cheering.

Leila couldn't help but clap and cheer with them all – because this was huge. This was her boss becoming captain of the French national team at twenty-four. This was history.

***************************

The Bridge's studio setup is way more casual than Leila expected, all warm lights and comfy chairs arranged in a circle like it's just bros hanging out – which, technically, it is.

"Ma puce, mon café?" Aurélien calls out as she's setting up his notes, and she pretends not to notice how Sébastien raises his eyebrows at the pet name.

"You have two hands that work perfectly fine," she responds, but she's already heading to get his coffee because she knows exactly how he gets without his caffeine fix before filming. Two sugars, splash of cream – the man drinks coffee like he's trying to hide the fact it's coffee.

"Ah, c'est comme ça maintenant?" ("So that's how it is now?") Jules grins as he walks in, followed by Ousmane and Thomas.

"Elle fait la grève," ("She's on strike,") Ousmane adds with a knowing smile.

"Can y'all not?" Leila mutters, but of course they can't because they live for chaos.

"What’s going on?" Thomas asks, settling into his chair while the makeup artist touches up his face.

"Nothing–" Aurélien starts, but Jules is already diving in.

"She's dating Wilo."

"I am not–"

"Wilo?" Sébastien perks up like he's just been handed gossip gold. "As in Saliba? Mon dieu, this is better than what I planned for the show."

"Speaking of the show," Leila cuts in desperately, "maybe we should focus on your actual topics? Like the Champions League? The national team? Literally anything else?"

"But this is much more interesting," Sébastien grins. "Tell me, how does our new captain feel about his PA dating his teammate?"

"We are NOT discussing my dating life on YouTube," Leila says firmly, handing Aurélien his coffee with maybe a little more force than necessary. Some splashes onto his notes and she automatically reaches to wipe it, just as he does the same. Their hands brush and she pulls back like she's been burned.

"Ooh, as-tu vu ça?" Thomas stage-whispers to Ousmane. "La tension!"

"I'm about to show y'all some tension with these coffee cups," Leila threatens, making them laugh harder.

"Non, non," Ousmane agrees solemnly. "We'll just discuss how our captain gets jealous every time someone looks at his PA. Like yesterday at training when Giroud asked her about American football..."

"I was not jealous," Aurélien protests. "I was concerned about her getting distracted from her duties."

"Her duties of watching you run laps?" Jules asks innocently.

"Her duties of maintaining my schedule–"

"The schedule she has memorized?" Ousmane adds.

"Y'all really want me to poison your dinner tonight, huh?" Leila threatens, but they just laugh harder.

"See? This is why I need my own Leila," Sébastien says. "Where do I find a PA who cooks?"

"You don't," Aurélien's voice carries that edge again. "She's one of a kind."

The room goes quiet for a moment, and Leila busies herself with absolutely nothing important on her tablet.

"Okay!" The producer calls out. "Five minutes! Let's talk about the actual show content?"

"Oui, oui," Sébastien nods, suddenly professional. "First segment about then national team dynamics with our new captain, maybe some stuff about Jules and his fashion sense…."

"Maybe one about a certain PA?" Thomas asks hopefully.

"Including nothing about any PAs," Leila cuts in. "Unless y'all want to explain to Didier why half his starting lineup got food poisoning before a match."

"She wouldn't really..." Thomas starts.

"She absolutely would," Aurélien, Jules, and Ousmane answer in unison.

"Ma puce," Aurélien calls softly, and she looks up to find him watching her with that expression that makes her stomach do stupid things. "My notes?"

She hands them over, careful not to let their fingers brush. "Try not to start any international incidents this time."

"Une fois," ("One time,") he protests. "I say one thing about Premier League defenders..."

"You said they tackle like they learned football from YouTube tutorials," she reminds him.

"Was I wrong though?"

"That's not the point! Twitter was a nightmare for days."

"This is why you're my favorite," he says, and something in his voice makes her look up. "You keep me in line."

"Someone has to," she manages to say, stepping back as the cameras start rolling.

She watches from behind the scenes as they dive into football talk, the banter shifting into serious discussion about tactics and pressure and what it means to wear the captain's armband. Watches how Aurélien leads the conversation with natural grace, how he makes everyone feel heard while still keeping things moving.

"Et maintenant," ("And now,") Sébastien grins near the end, "Les fans veulent savoir - est notre nouveau capitaine single?" ("the fans want to know – is our new captain single")

Leila's head snaps up from her tablet.

"Non," Thomas jumps in before Aurélien can answer. "Son cœur appartient à son P–"

The water bottle that flies across the room and hits Thomas square in the chest is definitely not thrown by Leila.

"Cut!" The producer calls after they wrap the final segment, and Leila releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. They managed to get through the whole episode with only minimal chaos, though Thomas kept trying to sneak in comments about "certain PAs" until she started keeping a steady supply of projectiles within reach.

"That was fun," Sébastien grins, stretching as they all stand. "We should do this again. Maybe next time with Wilo as a guest?"

"Don't you have a dinner to prepare?" Jules asks quickly, shooting her a look that clearly says 'get out while you can'.

"Oui, about that dinner," Thomas perks up. "What exactly are you making?"

"If one more person asks me about dinner," Leila cuts in, gathering her things, "I'm making y'all eat protein shakes instead."

"You wouldn't," Ousmane gasps dramatically.

"Try me."

"Ma puce," Aurélien's voice is softer now that the cameras are off. "Need a ride to the store?"

And that's... new. He hasn't offered to drive her anywhere since The Comment™️.

"I can take her," Jules offers with fake innocence. "Since you probably have captain duties and all."

"I can drive my PA to the store."

"Your PA?" Thomas raises an eyebrow. "Just okay PA or...?"

The second water bottle that hits him is definitely from Aurélien this time.

"I'll wait in the car," he tells her, ignoring the knowing looks from everyone else.

As soon as he's out of earshot, the chaos erupts:

"Girl, if you don't get in that car–" Ousmane starts.

"But what about Wilo?" Thomas asks.

"Capitaine is clearly in his feelings–" Sébastien adds.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Jules announces. "Let her breathe."

Leila takes a deep breath, gathering her professional dignity around her like armor. "I have a dinner to cook for twenty something grown men who act like children. I don't have time for... whatever this is."

"This," Sébastien gestures vaguely, "is prime content. The captain and his PA?"

"There is no 'captain and his PA'," she insists. "There's just a PA who's about to feed half of the French Football Federation because she makes poor life choices."

"Speaking of poor life choices," Jules grins, "your man's waiting."

"He's not my–"

A horn honks outside. Twice.

"La patience de cet homme," Thomas laughs. "Vraiment incroyable."

"I hate all of you," Leila announces, heading for the door.

"But you'll still feed us?" Ousmane calls after her.

She doesn't dignify that with a response.

The car ride is... weird. Not tense exactly, but full of something she can't name. Aurélien keeps opening his mouth like he wants to say something, then closing it again. She pretends to be very interested in her grocery list.

Two hours and way too many bags later (because apparently she's feeding an army now), they're back at Clairefontaine and the kitchen is already buzzing with energy and she directs her very enthusiastic sous chefs – Michael and Cama, plus some actual kitchen staff who keep looking at her like she's either genius or crazy for attempting this.

"This is not 'season to taste'," she swats Cama's hand away from the seasoning. "This is 'season to kill'."

"But it needs more–"

"If you say 'spice' I'm demoting you to dish duty."

The thing about cooking while Chief Keef is blasting through Clairefontaine's halls is that it really sets a specific type of mood. Leila can hear Marcus and Mike singing "Don't Like" at the top of their lungs, probably driving everyone crazy, but she's too focused on making sure Cama doesn't turn her greens into chemical warfare.

Michael, who’s undoubtedly the sous chef MVP, is quietly following her instructions to the letter. There's something zen about the way he moves through the kitchen, precise and focused like he's preparing for a match instead of helping prep chicken.

"You're good at this," she tells him, and his answering smile is small but genuine.

"My grandmother," he says simply. "She taught me that cooking is meditation."

"YOUR GRANDMOTHER DIDN'T HAVE TO COOK FOR HANGRY FOOTBALLERS!" Marcus's voice carries through the door, followed by the opening beats of "Love Sosa."

"The meditation is about to turn into medication if they don't calm down," Leila mutters, but Michael just laughs softly.

The kitchen staff has gone from skeptical to impressed, watching her coordinate this whole production like she's done it her whole life. Which, honestly, she has – just usually for family reunions, not professional athletes who probably cost more than her entire hometown.

"It's almost ready?" Mike pokes his head in, looking like a hopeful puppy. "Because we're dying out here."

"You've eaten today," she points out. "Multiple times."

"But not your cooking," Marcus appears behind him. "And now the whole place smells like heaven and we're suffering."

"You're not suffering," she rolls her eyes. "You're being dramatic."

"I AM suffering," Mike insists. "Look at me, I'm wasting away."

"You literally had lunch two hours ago."

"That was before we could smell the mac and cheese," Marcus argues. "Now we're starving."

She's about to throw something at them when Michael quietly says, "The chicken's ready for the second batch."

"See?" She points at Michael. "This is why he's my favorite. He actually helps instead of just complaining."

"Favorites?" Marcus clutches his chest. "That's cold, Lei. Ice cold."

"You know what else is getting cold? This food, if y'all don't let me cook in peace."

"But–"

"OUT!"

They retreat, but not before Mike tries one last time to steal a piece of chicken. She catches him with her wooden spoon – years of defending food from hungry cousins have honed her reflexes.

"The quiet ones always got jokes," Cama laughs as Mike runs away clutching his hand dramatically, then yelps when she catches him trying to sneak a taste of the greens. "How do you even see everything?"

"I have eyes in the back of my head," she says seriously. "My mama installed them when I started cooking."

"They're getting restless," Michael notes as another song starts shaking the walls. She's pretty sure she can hear Jules trying to teach Marcus and Mike the words, which is... a choice.

"Let them be restless," she says, putting the finishing touches on the mac and cheese (extra cheese on top because she ain't playing). "Good food takes time."

The kitchen settles into a rhythm after that, just the sounds of cooking and the distant bass of whatever song Marcus and Mike have moved onto now. Even Cama calms down enough to actually be helpful, following her instructions with only minimal attempts at creative seasoning.

"This is nice," Michael says after a while, quiet enough that only she can hear. "Reminds me of home."

"Yeah," she smiles, understanding exactly what he means. There's something about cooking with people who get it, who understand that food is more than just fuel. It's love, it's family, it's...

"FANCULO!"

The Italian curse makes them all jump as Cama nearly drops an entire tray of cornbread.

"What happened?" Leila spins around, heart racing.

"The cornbread!" he looks devastated. "I almost... it almost..."

"But you didn't," she soothes, trying not to laugh at how genuinely distressed he looks. "The cornbread is safe."

"I would've had to leave France," he says seriously. "Change my name. Start a new life."

"Because of cornbread?"

"Have you met my teammates? They would never let me live it down."

He's not wrong. She can already imagine the chaos if anything happened to the cornbread. These grown men really out here ready to riot over some baked goods.

"Speaking of teammates," Michael says casually, too casually, "our captain's been pacing outside the door for the last ten minutes."

"He what?" She turns so fast she almost knocks over the hot sauce.

"Mhm," Michael hums, that knowing look back in his eyes. "Every time someone walks by he pretends he's on his phone."

"That's..." she doesn't even know how to finish that sentence.

"Interesting?" Cama suggests with a grin.

"Complicated," she corrects. "Now focus on not dropping any more cornbread."

"I didn't drop it!" Cama whined.

"Almost dropped it."

"So," Michael says after a moment, quiet enough that only she can hear, "we're really not going to talk about it?"

"About what?"

His knowing look rivals Jules', but he just goes back to prepping chicken.

"Nothing," he says. "Just thinking our new captain might need to work on his game off the field too."

She chooses to ignore that, focusing instead on finishing up everything. The food looks good – really good. Soul food isn't meant to be fancy, but there's something beautiful about it anyway. Something honest.

"Time to feed the children," she announces, and both Michael and Cama snort at her description of their teammates.

"They're going to lose their minds," Cama predicts as they start plating everything.

He's not wrong. She can already hear the excitement building in the cafeteria, the mix of French and English and various other languages all carrying the same message: finally.

"Ready?" Michael asks as they prepare to head out.

She looks at their work – all this food made with love and patience (and only minimal threats of violence).

"Ready."

The whole team is there, plus coaching staff, plus what feels like half the FFF. They've pushed tables together family-style, and someone (probably Marcus) starts a chant of "Speech! Speech!" that gets picked up by everyone else.

"Y'all are doing too much," she laughs, but Michael gently pushes her forward.

"I'll translate," he says, and she sends up a prayer of thanks for this man's whole existence.

"Okay, okay," she holds up her hands and the room quiets down. "Listen. Where I'm from, food is how we show love. It's how we celebrate victories and comfort each other through losses. It's how we welcome family – blood or chosen."

Michael translates as she speaks, his French making her simple words sound almost poetic.

"Today we're celebrating our new captain," she continues, and the cheers that go up nearly shake the windows. Aurélien, sitting at the center of the longest table, ducks his head but she catches his smile. "And tomorrow we're gonna beat Israel's whole ass."

The roar that goes up at that almost drowns out Michael's slightly more diplomatic translation.

"Everything is Halal," she adds, "and yes, there's dessert – banana pudding with vanilla ice cream because I'm not a monster."

She nods to the servers who start bringing out the dishes, and the way these elite athletes' eyes light up at the sight of proper soul food would be funny if it wasn't so endearing.

"Bon appétit, mes amis," she finishes, and immediately gets swept up in a group hug from Marcus and Mike that nearly takes her off her feet.

"An angel," Marcus declares as he squeezes her. "A motherfucking angel."

The room fills with the sound of comfortable chaos that reminds her of Sunday dinners back home. She catches William's eye across the room and he gives her a warm smile that makes her cheeks warm.

But then she feels it – that familiar weight of attention – and finds Aurélien watching her with an expression that makes her breath catch. He's looking like something out of her most inappropriate dreams, and...

"Your plate," Michael appears at her elbow with food he's made up for her. "Can't let the chef go hungry."

She tears her eyes away from Aurélien, forcing herself to focus on her food and not on how their new captain keeps glancing her way like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

For the first few minutes, the cafeteria vibrates of pure, unadulterated appreciation – the kind that makes a cook's heart sing. These professional athletes, who probably have personal chefs on speed dial, are absolutely demolishing their plates. Bradley's over there drowning his chicken in hot sauce like he's trying to prove something, while others are just making these little sounds of joy between bites.

"I'm going to marry you," Brice announces suddenly through a mouthful of mac and cheese, breaking the reverent silence like a hammer through stained glass.

The table erupts in hoots and hollers, and Leila definitely doesn't miss how Aurélien's fork freezes halfway to his mouth.

"It's a joke," Brice adds quickly, though his eyes are twinkling. "But this food? Magnifique."

"You can't just propose like that," Khephren shakes his head with mock solemnity. "There's a process. Parents first."

"Exactly," Ousmane nods with all the wisdom of someone who's been in this position before. "Gotta do it properly."

"And don't forget the bride price," Ibou adds, which sets off a wave of groans like he's just announced extra training.

"They don't do that in America, bro," someone calls out, which starts a whole debate about marriage customs in different countries.

"Speaking of America," Mike cuts through the chaos with surprising grace, "you're from Georgia, right?" At Leila's nod, he continues, "Do you know where your peoples from? Like which country in the motherland?"

"You can't just ask her that," Jules protests.

"Why not?" Mike shrugs, all innocence. "I'm just curious."

"Slavery happened," Michael says quietly, taking a casual sip of water.

"I know that happened," Mike responds, "but you know some Black people in the US do one of those ancestry.com tests. You know, to find their roots."

"I did one," Leila interjects, and suddenly she has the undivided attention of some of the most expensive athletes in Europe, all of them looking at her like she's about to reveal the secret to scoring hat-tricks.

"And?" Marcus prompts, gesturing with a chicken wing that probably violates several of their nutritionist's rules.

"You guys really want to know?"

The chorus of "yes" comes in various accents and volumes, but the enthusiasm is unanimous, and they're ready to put their food on pause – and considering how they've been eating, that's saying something.

Laughing, she pulls up her phone, scrolling through her gallery for that screenshot from her college days. "Okay, this is from my Cultural History & Heritage class, so... I'm 65% Ghanaian..."

The applause that breaks out would make you think someone just scored a World Cup winner. Ousmane's practically glowing with vindication.

"I knew you were Ghanaian! You're feisty," he declares.

"And that forehead," Ibou adds, making her touch it self-consciously.

"What's wrong with my forehead?"

"You got that West African forehead," Marcus explains through a grin. "It's still cute though!" he adds quickly, like he's just remembered his mama raised him right.

She's doing her best impression of a confused goldfish when she continues, "10% Western Bantu Peoples, 14% Beninese." Her eyes flick to Jules, who's wearing the kind of smile that suggests he's already plotting something.

"You and JK are cousins!" Cama announces with the excitement of someone connecting invisible dots. "The family reunion's gonna be lit!"

"9% French Guiana," she pushes on, "8% English, and the rest is Dutch."

The reaction to the English and Dutch parts hits like they've just heard she's part alien. Eyebrows shooting up across the table like they're trying to escape.

"Slavery," Michael says again, and the word lands like a weight, heavy with centuries of history.

"Right, right," comes the collective murmur, before Marcus breaks the moment by declaring he needs thirds "to honor all those ancestors."

"More cornbread, ma puce?"

She turns to find Aurélien holding out the basket, something soft in his expression that makes her heart do stupid things.

"I'm good," she manages to say.

"You sure? You've barely eaten."

"Just happy everyone else is enjoying it."

His response is cut off by Marcus starting a debate about whether Ghana or Benin has better jollof rice, and suddenly the whole table is taking sides in what's apparently a long-standing West African rivalry.

"Ghana obviously has the better jollof," she says quietly, just to watch Aurélien's eyes narrow in betrayal.

"Et tu, ma puce?" He shakes his head like she's personally wounded him. "Non, non. Cameroon's jollof is superior. This is just facts."

"Please," Ousmane cuts in with the confidence of someone about to start a war, "Nigerian jollof clears both. This isn't even a debate."

"Bullshit," Marcus declares. "Ghana invented jollof. You can't beat the original."

"Being first doesn't mean being best," Aurélien argues, and suddenly it's like they're discussing tactical formations instead of rice. "Cameroonians perfected it."

"The delusion," Ousmane sighs dramatically. "This is why you need a Nigerian wife. To show you what real jollof tastes like."

Leila tries not to think too hard about why that comment makes something twist in her chest, but then Aurélien's saying, "I don't need a Nigerian wife when I have–" before cutting himself off abruptly.

The table goes quiet enough to hear a fork drop.

"When you have what?" Jules prompts teasingly.

"When I have... more important things to focus on," Aurélien finishes lamely. "Like tomorrow's match."

"Mhm," Michael hums into his water glass, sharing a look with Jules that speaks volumes.

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that, but Leila can't quite shake the weight of that unfinished sentence. Can't quite ignore how Aurélien keeps sneaking glances at her like he's trying to read something written in a language he doesn't understand, but that's a problem for another day.

Match day arrives bright and crisp, the kind of weather that makes footballers' eyes light up. The usual pre-match routines take on extra weight today – this isn't just any game, it's Aurélien's first as captain, and you can feel it in the air at breakfast. Even Marcus and Mike are quieter than usual, energy focused instead of scattered.

But before they can get to the match, there's the small matter of getting to Budapest. The morning after her soul food extravaganza has these grown men acting like they've discovered the secret to eternal happiness.

"I swear," Marcus is saying as they wait in the private terminal, "I haven't slept that good since I was in the womb."

"That's called the itis," Leila explains, watching their confused faces with amusement. "When good food puts you in a food coma? Yeah that’s what it is."

"Whatever it was, we need it before every match," Mike declares, and several others nod enthusiastically.

"That's too much to ask," Aurélien cuts in, that protective edge creeping into his voice.

"I'll help cook again!" Cama volunteers immediately.

"NO!" comes the unanimous response, making him pout.

"After what you tried to do to those greens?" Michael adds quietly. "I think not."

The conversation halts as they board their plane, and Leila thought she knew what luxury was, but this private Airbus is on another level. It's all cream leather and polished wood, with business class seats that look more like individual living rooms. Each pod has its own entertainment system and enough space to lie flat, making her regular flight experiences look like public transit.

"First time on the team plane?" William's voice is warm as he slides into the seat next to her, flashing that smile that still makes her stomach flip.

"That obvious?"

"You're looking around like you just discovered Narnia."

She catches Aurélien watching them from across the aisle, his jaw doing that thing it does when he's thinking too hard.

"You should come to London after the break," William continues smoothly, either not noticing or choosing to ignore their captain's attention, "There's this amazing Nigerian restaurant I want to show you."

"Oh?" she tries for casual. "Just for the food?"

His smile turns soft. "Among other things."

Someone – definitely Jules – clears their throat loudly, and Leila suddenly finds the safety card fascinating.

"The restaurant's near Emirates," William adds. "I could show you around, catch a match..."

"You trying to convert her to Arsenal?" Bradley calls from behind them. "Nah, she needs to see a PSG match instead."

"Please," Mike scoffs. "Milan is clearly superior."

And just like that, they're all arguing about their clubs like they weren't just praising her cooking five minutes ago.

"Think about it?" William asks quietly while the others debate club merits.

She's about to answer when Aurélien's voice cuts through: "Leila, I need you to review the post-match schedules."

"Now? We just took off."

"Oui. Now."

William just shakes his head but his smile is knowing. "We'll talk later?"

She nods, gathering her tablet and trying not to analyze why their captain suddenly needs to review schedules he definitely already knows by heart.

**********************

The Puskás Aréna is something else entirely when they arrive – all modern glass and steel but somehow still intimidating as hell. Leila's back in her element, running through pre-match routines she's got down to a science by now. Water bottles positioned just so (because Michael swears the angle affects his performance), extra shin guards for Marcus (who she's convinced loses them on purpose at this point just to watch her scramble), and that specific pre-wrap that Mike treats like it's made of gold.

Aurélien's different today – you can see it in how he carries himself, that armband not just a piece of fabric but a crown. He moves through the locker room like he's been doing this his whole life, stopping at each player with exactly what they need: a quiet word with Jules, some complicated handshake with Cama that looks more like interpretive dance, a firm nod to William that carries weight she can't quite read.

The match itself? Pure poetry. Whatever that soul food did to them, it's working overtime because they're moving like they've got cheat codes enabled. Aurélien's commanding the midfield like he was born to it, every tackle clean enough to eat off of, every pass finding feet like he's got GPS in his boots.

Six minutes in and Cama's already making statements, finding the back of the net with the kind of finish that makes you question physics. Before Israel can even process what hit them, Nkunku's doubling the lead in the 26th minute, celebration looking suspiciously like a TikTok dance she's definitely seen Marcus teaching everyone.

Israel manages to pull one back, but these boys aren't about to let their captain's first match be anything less than spectacular. The last five minutes turn into a highlight reel – a goal in the 87th with a strike that probably broke the sound barrier, and then Bradley putting the final nail in the coffin just two minutes later, making it 4-1 with the kind of casual elegance that shouldn't be legal.

The final whistle just confirms what everyone already knew – this French team, with their new captain and apparently their new pre-match soul food ritual, is something special.

4-1. Four different scorers. And one very proud PA trying not to look too obvious about it.

*******************************

The rowdy chaos outside her hotel room tells Leila exactly what's about to go down. Post-match celebration means clubs, means someone's definitely about to drop stupid money on bottles, means Marcus will absolutely end up shirtless at some point, and means these boys are headed out to dance a little and find someone who's down to fuck. Instagram models will materialize like they've got professional athlete radar, the elevators about to get more action than a fashion week runway.

Her mind cannot handle the aura Aurélien has right now especially after winning his first match as captain; she knew what type time he was on and it wasn't going to be anything saintly. He loves a win more than anything and the only other thing that can top that is going out with the boys and bedding some girl.

Thank goodness she never heard him getting busy - that may scar her to the point of needing therapy but she read some things on gossip blogs (she didn't know if it was true or false) and the way they talked about him having humongous dick energy not to mention the stamina—

A knock on her hotel room door pulled her out of her thoughts and she hurriedly fixed her bonnet and glasses before looking at the peep hole and to her surprise it was Jules.

The hell?

"I know you know it's me," he says and Leila let out a groan silently debating on whether or not she should let him in. He knocked again, this time harder.

"Okay, relax." She said then opened the door. Jules eyes scanned over her body.

"That's how you going to the club, Leila? A bonnet and muumuu?"

And she squinted at him like he had three heads. "Huh?"

"You're coming to the club."

"I most certainly am not," she says, already trying to close the door, but Jules is faster, wedging his foot in the way.

"You really gonna let Wilo go to the club without supervision?" he asks with that smirk that means trouble. "When there's gonna be all those Hungarian baddies there?"

"Wilo is a grown man who can do whatever he wants," she says, but something must show in her face because Jules' grin gets wider.

"Mhm. And I'm sure Auré has nothing to do with you hiding in your room?"

"I'm not hiding, I'm being professional."

"Professional?" Jules actually laughs. "Ma puce, you're our age. You think the FFF expects you to sit in your room in a bonnet while we celebrate?"

"The FFF expects me to—"

"To what? Pretend you're not twenty-four? Come on. Get dressed. The car leaves in twenty."

"Jules—"

"Either you come willingly or I'm sending Marcus and Mike to get you. Your choice."

The threat of those two showing up at her door is enough to make her pause. They'd probably live-stream the whole thing, and then she'd have to explain to her mama why she's trending on French Twitter.

"Fine," she sighs. "But I'm not staying long."

"Sure," Jules says in a tone that suggests he doesn't believe her at all. "Wear that black dress you brought."

She narrows her eyes. "How do you know what's in my suitcase?"

"I don't. But you're a Black woman on a work trip – you definitely packed a just-in-case outfit."

"I hate that you know that."

His grin is entirely too satisfied. "Twenty minutes. And Lei?" He pauses at the door. "Aren't you curious what your captain's going to say when he sees you in something other than work clothes?"

Before she can throw something at him, he's gone, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

She looks at her reflection in the hotel mirror, bonnet and all, and lets out a deep sigh.

"Lord," she mutters, already reaching for her suitcase, "give me strength."

Because Jules isn't wrong – she definitely packed that black dress. Just in case.

The black halterneck dress has been sitting in her suitcase like it's been waiting for this moment, all dangerous intentions and "maybe I will act up tonight" energy. She holds it up, already questioning herself because this hem is definitely living its best thigh-high life. But then again, if she's about to get dragged to a club by a bunch of football players, she might as well look like she meant to be there.

The over-the-knee boots are her compromise with herself – wedge heels because she refuses to die tonight trying to channel her inner Instagram baddie in stilettos. Her silk press is still hanging on by a prayer and whatever magic Theresa put in that heat protectant, so at least that's one less thing to worry about.

One last glance in the mirror has her reaching for her silver metallic Diesel mini purse (her one designer splurge that she justified as a "work expense" because technically she does need to look put together around these millionaires).

A knock at the door has her rolling her eyes. "It has not been twenty minutes—" she starts, yanking it open, ready to tell Jules exactly where he can put his timeline.

Except it's not Jules.

William's standing there looking like every bad decision she's ever wanted to make, already dressed for the club in a fitted black Amiri shirt that's doing criminal things to his shoulders.

"Oh," she manages, suddenly very aware that this dress is doing exactly what it was designed to do. William's eyes do a slow sweep from her boots all the way up, and listen – she might need to text Theresa a thank you for this silk press because the way he's looking at her right now?

"Jules said you needed an escort to the club," he says, voice a little rougher than usual. "But I'm thinking maybe we should skip it."

She tries to remember how to form words like a professional. "Skip it?"

"There's this rooftop bar..." he starts, then stops as voices carry down the hallway – she catches Aurélien's distinct tone among them and something in William's expression shifts.

"The rooftop bar?" she prompts, pretending she doesn't hear the footsteps getting closer.

William steps closer, just inside her doorway. "Much quieter than the club. Better view. And we could actually..." he pauses as the voices get louder, "talk."

The way he says 'talk' definitely isn't suggesting conversation about the weather.

But before she can respond, another voice cuts through:

"Ma pu—" Aurélien's voice cuts off abruptly, and Leila watches something complicated pass across his face as he takes in the scene – William in her doorway, her in this dress that's definitely not PA-appropriate, the energy crackling between them that definitely isn't professional.

He's already dressed for the club too, looking like he stepped out of a GQ spread in all black everything, that captain's confidence still radiating off him. For a moment, nobody moves.

"Capitaine," William says easily, not moving from his spot. "We were just discussing alternate plans for tonight."

"Alternate plans?" Jules appears behind Aurélien, taking in the situation with raised eyebrows. "Non, non. The team celebrates together. You know this."

"I was thinking—" William starts, but Aurélien cuts him off.

"The van's leaving. Now." There's something in his voice that doesn't invite argument. "Both of you."

Leila catches Jules hiding a smile behind his hand, and she really might have to fight him later.

"After you," William says to her, finally stepping back, but his hand finds her lower back as they head toward the elevator and she swears she hears something that sounds suspiciously like a growl from behind them.

The rented van's already bumping with French trap music when she climbs in, Marcus and Mike immediately letting out wolf whistles that would absolutely get them slapped by their mamas.

"OH? Okay Lei! I see how you coming tonight!" Cama's eyes go wide. "This is not PA behavior!"

"Nah for real though," Marcus grins, "who told you to show up looking this good? We trying to play it cool tonight!"

"Cool?" Mike winks at her. "Ain't nothing cool about this. Now we know why Jules was so pressed about you coming out."

Bradley's already pouring shots in the back, passing them around like they didn't just play 90 minutes of professional football. "To the baddest in the van!"

"Hold up though," Khephren raises his glass with a smirk. "You really just been hiding all this under them work clothes? That's foul, Lei."

William's hand is still somehow finding reasons to brush against her knee, while Aurélien's watching the whole scene from the front like he's plotting multiple homicides. The bass is hitting hard enough to cover whatever Jules is saying to him, but judging by their captain's face, it's nothing he wants to hear.

"Another round?" Bradley calls out as Gazo's latest hit has everyone trying to rap along.

"No, I’m good. Thanks," she says.

The club is exactly what you'd expect when rolling with the French national team – all VIP treatment and bottle girls already lined up like they got a notification that fine athletes were incoming. Security parts the crowd, leading them straight to the section.

"You good?" William asks as she slides into the booth next to him, his hand finding that spot on her lower back again. Before she can answer, Marcus is already ordering bottles like he's trying to buy out the whole club.

"Dom, Clase Azul, and whatever our PA wants because she blessed us with that soul food!" he shouts over the music.

"And that dress," Mike adds, earning himself a look from Aurélien that could freeze hell.

The first bottle of Dom arrives with sparklers because of course it does – these men don't know how to do anything lowkey. Bradley's already got his phone out, documenting everything for his Close Friends story while Cama starts pouring shots like it's his job.

"To our captain!" Someone calls out, and more bottles appear, more sparklers, more everything.

"And to our angel," Khephren adds with a wink in her direction. "Feeding us like kings!"

She catches Aurélien's expression in the strobe lights, something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watches William lean in to whisper something in her ear. The music's too loud to hear what Jules says to him, but whatever it is makes their captain knock back his entire drink in one go.

"Dance with me," William says as Rema's voice fills the club, and Leila immediately starts shaking her head, pushing her glasses up her nose like they'll shield her from his request.

"Oh no, I don't—"

But then he does that thing with his tongue, running it across his lips in a way that should be illegal, and her brain short-circuits for a second.

"Come on," he grins, already standing and holding out his hand. "One dance."

Before she can protest again, he's leading her down from their VIP section to where the dance floor is pulsing with Afrobeats. She catches Aurélien's expression as they pass – something dangerous flickering in his eyes as he watches William's hand on her waist.

"I really don't dance," she tries one last time, but William's already pulling her closer, moving to the beat like he was born doing this.

"Everyone dances to Afrobeats," he says in her ear, his accent wrapping around the words. "Just feel it."

And maybe it's the shots, or maybe it's the way his hands feel on her hips, but she finds herself starting to move. The rhythm catches her, William's smile grows wider, and suddenly she remembers – she does know how to dance. She just usually doesn't do it in front of half the French national team.

But tonight? Tonight feels different.

The thing about dancing with a professional athlete is that they know exactly how to move. William's got this natural rhythm that makes it easy to follow his lead, his hands steady on her hips as she finds her groove. The beat switches to "Calm Down" and suddenly they're moving like they've been dancing together forever.

"Look who can dance after all," he murmurs in her ear, pulling her a little closer as she rolls her hips. The shots are definitely helping with her confidence, but it's the way he's looking at her that's really doing it – like she's the only girl in this packed club.

She catches glimpses of the other boys joining the dance floor – Marcus already shirtless (called it), Mike with some girl who looks like she models for Fashion Nova, Cama doing some complicated dance routine that has everyone making space. But she keeps feeling that weight of attention from above, knows without looking that Aurélien's watching every move, every time William's hands slide a little lower, every time she moves a little closer.

"You've been holding out on us," he says against her ear. "All this time in training and we never knew you could move like this."

A particularly bold turn has her back pressed fully against him, and oh – apparently footballers really do have incredible stamina because that's definitely not his phone in his pocket. His thumb traces her jawline, tilting her face up to his, and the look in his eyes makes her mouth go dry.

"I think," he says, voice rough in a way that sends heat straight through her, "we should get out of here."

The reasonable part of her brain, the part that remembers she's technically working, tries to speak up. But then his lips brush her ear and that part of her brain short circuits completely.

"I've got a suite," he continues. "Much quieter than here. Better view of the city."

She knows what he's really saying. Knows exactly what that invitation means. Knows that tomorrow she'll either have the best story for Yolanda or the biggest regret of her career.

From somewhere behind them, she hears Mike shout something that sounds suspiciously like "GET IT, LEI!" She's going to have to fight him later.

William's still waiting for an answer, his body moving against hers in a way that's making thinking very difficult. His hand slides up her spine, leaving fire in its wake, and really – what's the worst that could happen?

Besides losing her job, her dignity, and whatever's left of her heart that isn't already tied up in another footballer who thinks she's just okay.

The music shifts to something slower, something that has William pulling her even closer, and she's about to say yes to everything he's suggesting when someone bumps them hard enough to break their bubble.

"Désolé," Aurélien's voice cuts through the music as he moves past them toward the bar, not sounding sorry at all. Bradley is right behind him, shooting them an apologetic look that seems more amused than anything.

But William's not letting this moment slip. His fingers turned her attention back to him like their captain didn't just try to body check them on the dance floor. "So? That view I mentioned..."

Maybe it's the shots. Maybe it's the way he's looking at her. Maybe it's how Aurélien didn't even acknowledge her when he passed. Maybe it's all of it, mixing with the bass and the heat and the way William's fingers are drawing promises on her skin.

"Show me," she says, and his smile turns dangerous in the best way.

He leads her through the crowd, hand firm on her lower back. They pass the VIP section where Mike lets out another wolf whistle (she's definitely fighting him tomorrow), where Marcus is too busy with his own conquest to notice, where Cama's eyes go wide before he bumps Jules' shoulder with a knowing look.

She catches one last glimpse of Aurélien at the bar as they head for the exit, watches him knock back what looks like straight whiskey while Bradley says something in his ear. His eyes meet hers for just a moment, dark and intense and full of something she can't name.

But then William's guiding her toward the door, and she decides that's tomorrow's problem.

Tonight belongs to different choices.

**************************

The Uber ride is charged with enough electricity to power all of Budapest. William's got his hand on her thigh, thumb tracing circles that are making her brain malfunction, and listen – she might need to text God an apology real quick because the thoughts she's having right now are absolutely not church-appropriate.

He's definitely feeling those shots, all loose limbs and heated looks, but she's right there with him – everything's got that soft-focus feeling that makes bad decisions feel like destiny. The way he's looking at her like she's something to be devoured is doing things to her heart rate that can't be healthy.

But underneath all that liquid courage, panic is starting to set in. Because this man definitely thinks he's about to get the kind of experience his usual conquests provide, and she's over here having never gone past first base. Her virgin self is really about to try to play in the Champions League with no practice, and that's not even counting the fact that this man is built like he was carved from marble.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmurs, leaning in close enough that she can smell his cologne mixed with expensive liquor. His lips brush her ear and – oh. OH. Maybe this is how she dies. At least it's a good way to go.

The hotel appears way too quickly and not quick enough. William helps her out of the car like the gentleman he is, but his eyes are pure sin as they head for the elevator.

Her heart's doing double-time now, a mix of want and worry that has her pressing her thighs together. Because she wants this – wants him – but also? She's seen the gossip blogs. She knows what these football players are working with. And her inexperienced self is really about to—

The elevator doors close and William presses the button for his floor, and suddenly everything feels very, very real.

Lord help her.

It took no time before William got her pressed against the mirrored wall, one hand braced beside her head while the other plays with the ends of her hair. They haven't even kissed yet but the anticipation is thick enough to cut.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, eyes tracking over her face like he's memorizing it. "You know that?"

The elevator dings at his floor and suddenly they're playing this game of trying to walk down the hallway while staying as close as possible. His key card takes three tries to work because he's too busy pressing soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth that's trying not to smile too wide.

Then they're through his door and everything shifts. His hands find her waist, pulling her close as he backs her against the door. The first press of his lips against hers is gentle, questioning, like he's asking permission yet when she sighs into it, fingers curling into his shirt, gentle goes out the window.

Listen. LISTEN. William Saliba can KISS. She's got her back against his hotel room door, his hands cupping her face like she's precious while simultaneously trying to steal her soul through her mouth. Everything's hazy with want and Clase Azul when his lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her knees weak. One of his hands slides down to her hip, thumb finding skin where her dress has ridden up, and the noise she makes should be embarrassing but he groans in response like she's driving him crazy.

His mouth is doing ungodly things to her neck, the kind of things that make her understand why people write songs about moments like this, when reality crashes back in.

"Wait," she manages to breathe out. "I should... I need to tell you something."

He pulls back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and intense in a way that makes her forget how to breathe. His thumb traces her bottom lip and for a moment she forgets what she was going to say.

"What's wrong?" His voice is rough in a way that does things to her insides, accent thicker than usual.

They've somehow migrated from the door to the middle of his suite, the city lights of Budapest twinkling behind them through floor-to-ceiling windows. His hands are still on her waist, thumbs drawing circles on her hips that make it hard to think straight.

"I've never..." she starts, then stops, trying to find the words while his mouth is doing devastating things to her collarbone. "I haven't..."

He pulls back again, and this time understanding dawns on his face slowly, his eyes widening. One hand comes up to cup her cheek, and she leans into it despite herself.

"Wait. You're...?"

She nods, warmth rushing to her cheeks that has nothing to do with his kisses or the shots still buzzing through her system.

"But you're twenty-four," he says like he's trying to solve a complicated math problem. His other hand is still on her waist, thumb still moving in those maddening circles. "And you look like... I mean, how has nobody...?"

She shrugs, suddenly finding his gold chain very interesting. "Just never happened. Never felt right with anyone."

His fingers catch her chin, tilting her face back up to his. The heat in his eyes has been replaced by something softer, something that makes her heart do different kinds of flips.

"We can wait," he says, thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Until you're ready. No pressure."

"You sure?"

His answering kiss is gentle now, all sweet promise instead of consuming fire. "Some things are worth waiting for."

They end up on his couch, trading lazy kisses that slowly build and ebb like waves. His hands stay respectfully above clothes even when hers wander a bit (because listen, those footballer abs are a gift and she's only human). They talk about nothing and everything – about growing up in France, about her friends in Georgia, about how nervous she was her first day as a PA.

It's nice. More than nice. The kind of nice that makes her wonder if maybe...

But it's getting late, and her willpower is seriously testing its limits with the way he keeps looking at her like she's something precious. She should go. She needs to go.

"I should head back," she murmurs against his lips.

"Mhm," he agrees, but kisses her again anyway.

Ten minutes and several more "I should really go" kisses later, she finally makes it to his door. He pulls her in for one last kiss that nearly changes her mind about leaving.

"Think about what I said," he says. "About London."

"I will."

She's still floating on cloud nine when she rounds the corner and nearly collides with them – Aurélien and what looks like this evening's conquest. The girl's exactly his type – all curves and confidence, the kind of ass that probably has its own Instagram following. They're wrapped around each other like they can't wait to get behind closed doors, and the sight hits her like a bucket of ice water.

Their eyes meet over the girl's shoulder, and something in his expression makes her stomach drop. She tries to slip past quietly, already planning how many miles she'll need to run tomorrow to forget this moment.

"Good night, Leila."

She freezes mid-step, the sound of her actual name falling from his lips feeling like a slap. Not 'ma puce'. Not his usual pet name that makes her heart flutter. Just Leila.

His hotel room door clicks shut, and she stands there in the hallway like someone just pressed pause on her whole world. In the eight months she's known him, through every up and down, every early morning and late night, every moment of casual intimacy and professional distance, he's never once called her just Leila.

Never once until now, when she's standing in a hallway wearing another man's kisses while he takes another woman to his bed.

The universe really does have a sense of humor.

A cruel one.

………….tbd

[sparks-and-smoke]

Chapter 3: Helping Hands

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3385 Summary: Steve asks Sam if he can volunteer at his work. Getting his shoe in the door with someone special. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: smut, oral (male receiving), grief, loss, angst, mental health, PTSD, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Soulmate AU. A/N: Fun Fact, readers last name is Darnell in this because it mean "unknown or secret" This went through a couple different variasons so if tense is weird I'm sorry. English IS my first language. I just suck at it. Beta read by the ever lovely. @voice-of-velhart

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The guilt he felt asking Sam to help him was second only to his driving need to see you. He might have given the parameters of what he was doing more thought if it didn't seem like a necessary evil. To lie to one of his only friends. To manipulate him into getting Steve into your personal space. It was verging on vile and he knew it. His conscious was eating him alive, but he didn't know what else to do.

"I'm honestly surprised you even have time to volunteer man. Doesn't all that SHIELD shit keep you pretty busy?" Sam had been talking but Steve wasn't listening. Preoccupied with the sweat forming on his palms and the shake in his fingers. Every step they took brought him closer to you. Closer to either setting things right or ruining his life.

"Ah, yeah well. Everybody needs a sense of community right? I'm just trying to find mine. You try making friends with a bunch of spies and secret agents. Not exactly confidant material." He kept his tone light, his usual polite air covering his intentions. In all truth he was only half lying. He really wouldn't mind spending time with other combat vets. Though his faith in the VA as an institution was weak at best. "Besides you're the one that encouraged me to come."

Sam scoffed, giving his friend the side eye. "I suggested group sessions. Not volunteering in the housing division."

But she is in the housing division. It's an easy in. Steve only shrugged, "I find peace in helping others."

They made their way across the campus. Being greeted by the occasional coworker, or passersby. Voices murmuring as they trailed off to the building on the far end of the green. It was sinking in that there was a high likelihood he couldn't do this unrecognized. There was really no avoiding that, but… How would his sweet girl react to meeting someone the way he was now.

You had always been fiery and confident in their day, something that drew his pensive personality to you like a month to a flame. But had time changed that.. What if being near someone who had been genetically modified scared you or made you uncomfortable. He couldn't handle a rejection before this even began. He couldn’t begin to know what he would say or how he should act. Should he charm you, or should he stand off and let her come to him? Did he even have the restraint?

How had he done it the first time? That was the problem wasn't it. Because the first time around you had picked him. Sure he was bigger now, conventionally more attractive but he was still the same introverted knot-head he had always been. You had been the one to approach him then, you were the one asking questions and making his ears burn when you called him handsome. He had no clue how you found it charming then, he highly doubted it would be charming now. He needed to be smooth, he needed to be charming and friendly and not like the nervous desperate fool he felt like right now.

They made it to the large red brick building on the far side of campus and Steve was starting to feel exposed. Like this was a bad idea. He found himself fidgeting, smoothing back his hair and adjusting his jacket. Petal had always like him in brown leather. Hopefully that was still true now..

"Are you good? You got somewhere to be?"

Sam's retort pulled him from his grooming. "Yeah maybe. Who knows. I've always had a thing for a cute nurse."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure. Says the man that has turned down every opportunity I have shot your way for months now."

"Maybe you just don't know my type." Sam just rolled his eyes as he help open the door. They went about their tour. Meeting the orderly and getting the weekly schedule and where they could use help with activities and outings. Steve payed the closest attention to Monday-Thursday when he knew you were working. He did his best to remain respectful and give the orderly his full attention as he spoke up his eyes were constantly roaming looking for that distinctive head of hair…

As they walked Sam held most of the conversation to make up for Steve's apparent daze. They walked into a small hallway with a few doors, each leading to different departments. Nursing, mental health, physical therapy. They passed a door that led to a small garden where veterans sat, chatting on benches, and another one that looked like a rec room. A massive almost gymnasium like structure with open sky lights and an open floor. Clearly, most of the building funding had gone toward places like this.

Steve gave a low whistle hand in his pockets as he looked around, his body spinning slowly as his gaze wondered. "They didn't look like this when I was serving…" He stopped in his tracks. There you were. Off at one of the tables talking to an elderly man in a wheelchair. Your hair pushed back with a headband.

The world melted away. Not only was it you, and you were gorgeous as ever, but you looked so much happier than he left you in the 40's. You were healthier, more relaxed and calm in conversation with the man. You were happy here; without him. His heart squeezed painfully, but it was OK. You were happy.

He had the sudden urge to leave, to tell Sam to go and that he would come back another day… and then he heard you laugh. A real laugh for the first time in seventy years. He whipped back around, his eyes wide and locked onto you. All other thoughts faded, all he could see was you.

Steve was frozen, it was like his very being had short circuited. Finally your eyes caught his and his heart stopped. It was like a shock of electricity through his body. In that moment it was as if the war never happened, as if you had never lost each other at all. But just like that your gaze passed over him and you returned to the man, as if you hadn’t even seen him. Maybe you didn’t. But Steve knew he couldn’t move, was completely frozen watching you.

Sam gave him a nudge, “You OK brother?”

But Steve didn’t answer. His soul hurt so much he felt unable.

You could feel eyes on you, they were impossible to ignore. Glancing over to the doors you could see Sam Wilson and your head nurse talking to another tall man that seemed roughly familiar but you couldn't really place, maybe he was a family member or a vet here? Or a vet himself just here to provide company which was encouraged in the therapy sessions…

Either way it didn’t seem like the blonde was listening. Because he was staring out into the room with a look that could only be deceived as heartbreaking. Somewhere between hope and devastation.

His gaze locked on yours and you gave an encouraging smile. Trying to be warm as the man's face drained of color. Was he looking for someone? had he just been given bad news? You rose to her feet deciding to check on him when Lt. Nelson tapped your hip.

Leaning down you listened to what he had to say. "I served with him. That's Captain Steven Rogers, I would know him anywhere. I haven't seen him since Italy…"

“Do you think so?” You knew the name. Hell, everyone knew the name between the Smithsonian exhibit and the coverage in the news and tabloids it was a household name. Steve Rogers, Captain America, The world mightiest hero. It wasn't the craziest thing you had heard from a resident today. But, it wouldn't be the first time the Lieutenant had mistaken a visitor for someone from his glory days, and while you would never correct him. You tried not to encourage it either.

Superhero’s don’t come here, was you're first thought, but you didn't have the heart to say that, instead you told him. “Well why don’t I go say hello, and maybe you're right.” Rubbing Mr. Nelson’s shoulder warmly before watching over to Sam and the stranger.

You came closer and closer until Steve could see you clearly. All the details he had forgotten were there, the way your nose scrunched when you smiled and the way your eyes would sparkle with happiness or mischief. It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and beg her to remember him.

But then you were in front of them, you eyes on Sam, a soft smile and he felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under him again. “Sam! Long time no see, whose you're friend?"

Sam slung an arm around Petal, giving you a warm hug. Which you returned with a gusto that Steve knew all too well. Those hugs were warm, and snug, and you always lingered just long enough to make you feel important and safe..

"This is my friend Steve. He was hoping to come hang out with you and the old dogs a few times a month, ain't that right Cap?"

Steve shoved down the green monster rising in his gut at the hug and plastered a lopsided smile on his face. "That's right." he stated dumbly, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

"Oh, well that's nice of you. Were you in the service sir?" Their it was again. Sir. Not Steve or Stevie, but sir. The title you give to a respected stranger. Felt like fish hook in the gut. You were trying to be polite but all it did was make him want to evacuate his stomach on the checkered tiles.

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat with a smile. "Yes, a captain in the army."

”Nice to meet you Captain,” you held out your hand to shake Steve’s. He took your hand, savoring your grip and your soft skin on his hand. He felt that soft wave of recognition buzz over his skin. One soulmate touching another, it wasn't the electric rapture that overcame you the first time you touched you're other half. It was that old familiar whirring under the skin that came with every contact with his girl. His eyes shot up to see if you recognized the feeling. Nothing

“The pleasure’s…” He had meant to to come off suave but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try again, “The pleasure’s all mine.” He felt like an idiot and his chest felt like might swing open and the contents would fall out, but he knew he had to be strong.

When you responded with a welcome smile, he felt maybe everything might be alright. He tried not to notice how perfectly your hand fit in his, though his brain instantly comparing the sizes and the way his palm dwarfed hers. Your handshake was warm, and he could have held you forever, but you took your hand back far too soon.

“Come on,” you said, smiling and lighting up the room. “I’ll show you around and we can discuss volunteering a little.”

Steve and Sam followed you, looking around as you introduced them to a few of the veterans that were sitting and chatting around. You seemed to know them all, giving nicknames to each one with a loving, familiar smile. Steve wasn't surprised by how easily you could make anyone feel like they were a friend. You had always been that way, Like when your eye's landed on someone you were actually seeing you and not just a face. you smile lit the room and he was so enchanted he let his guard down. Talking to vets and being recognized, if you were shocked you didn't show it. You just let him become part of the goings on.

You left the Captain to talk to Mr. Nelson. Smiling to you're self when they pulled out the checkers board and you made you're way back to Sam.

"So… THAT is Captain America?"

Sam laughed, watching the interaction between the Captain and the old vet.

“He’s a good guy, a little outdated and hard to get to know… but don’t let him intimidate you, he’s a marshmallow on the inside and he can be…charming… on occasion.”

"He seems.. melancholy?" you search for the word. Sad didn't seem right but there was this vague sense of otherness to Steve that almost comes off him in waves.

"Wouldn't you be? The man lost everything he's ever known. Was woken up only to be thrown into another fight… He probably needs therapy. But I think you would be hard pressed to get a man like him in a session. So, community is gonna have to do for now."

You consider that for a moment as Steve's gaze meets yours one more time. He does seem a like happier now that he is here. But you still see that flicker of something indescribable whenever he is left to his own thoughts. You may not know combat but you knows that feeling. That lost drifting feeling that settles on the bones after soldiers come home. You had seen it in the eyes of a least a hundred men.

You wished he would let Sam actually help him.

Steve did his best to focus on the game with the Lt. He really did. But when his petal was standing right there in your cute pink scrubs who could blame a man for being distracted.

"She is a cutie, let me tell you what." Nelson murmured with a smile as he took another of Steve's pieces.

Nelson gave him the look of a man that had a keen nose for bullshit. "Nurse Darnell. You've only been looking at her like she is made of sugar for the last 20 minutes."

Steve chuckled, trying to play it off. "She is very attractive yes."

"Then why are you wasting time talking to an old fart like me."

"I don't know if your aware of this pal but I am just as much of an old codger as you are."

Nelson shakes his head, his deep baritone laugh rumbling in that old smokers chest. "Naw, you may have been born the same year as me son, but you're still a young man inside. I know you feel out of place. But we all did when we came home."

Steve knew what he was saying was right, and that Nelson was trying to give him an out to go and ask his petal out. But Steve was still scared to death. "I don't know if I am ready for all that."

"You'll never know if you don't try son."

When Steve pushed up from his chair Sam and petal where no where to be found. He searched the room and came up empty. "You looking for me?"

Her warm voice trickled down his spine and made him smile. "Yes, I was. Do you have coffee in this place."

"Do we have coffee?" You sounded almost indignant. "You are aware this is a VA correct. And that we service exclusively military personnel and veterans… Yes we have coffee. Stiff enough to float a brick on."

Steve smiled at that, the grin lighting up his face. We are talking, she's talking to me… "Just how I like it."

You lead him off to the little coffee bar in the corner of the rec room, the one that is attached to the kitchen where all the meals are served, "Here we are." You pump a mug full out of a carafe and hands it over, "might be a little cold. Hopefully not."

"I'm sure it is just fine." He assures and takes a sip, it was in fact cold be he could not give less of a shit as long as you keeps talking to him. "It's perfect."

"Mhhm…" you looked like you didn't believe that for a moment but didn't say anything. "So how are you finding modern living, Captain Rogers?"

"Steve, please." He did his best to keep the pleading from his voice but if you called him Sir again he was gonna throw something. "And I'm… I'm finding it. It's different from home but most places are. And its better then the trenches so I guess I'm fine."

"I feel like there is a major difference between 1940's Brooklyn and the trenches Mr- uh Steve." You seemed to catch yourself. It was just one more reminder of how he had lost everything and even now with you right in front of him he was lost.

"Well yeah, but I have to find the good where I can. The food is good, the cars are fast, information at your fingertips anywhere and everywhere. The future isn't so bad…" He was rambling. And he knew it. But he didn’t know how to stop the words. You, his sweet girl, were right in front of him. And he could touch you. He could pull you into his into him, hold you close and sweep you off you're feet like he should have been able to 70 years ago if he hadn't been a fool. Taste your pretty lips again. Hear you say “I love you” with that laugh at the end, like always did.

It was taking every ounce of dignity and strength he had not to do it.

"What do you hate about it?"

That broke him from his daydream. "I'm sorry what?"

"What do you hate about the modern world? When I first moved from New York to DC i hated the way people talk. Back home everyone talks fast and straight to the point. No one sugar coats anything and you know precisely where you stand. Here, everything is niceties and small talk. It still drives me crazy sometimes, but I've gotten used to it." You swirl the tea in your mug. "So, what drives you crazy? What can't you stand."

He wanted to say he could not stand the distance between them. The fact that you did not know him. That the love between them was gone. That they had spent so much time apart, years where they could have been building a family together.

“Too much choice.” He said with a smile as he tried to hide the sadness in his eyes. “Back in the 40’s there were about 2 radio channels, you had one ice cream place to go to and movies were 15 cents a pop. People have hundreds if choices now. It's pretty overwhelming. Everything, is buzzing and moving and changing constantly. I can't keep up.”

She hadn't expected that answer but it made sense. "You'll like it here then. Our own little bubble her at the living center. You can stop in for a change of pace whenever you want."

The way you said 'our' and 'you' gave him a jolt of hope. "So, I can come back and help out when I can?" he asked casually.

"Oh, of course you are more then welcome. It benefits everyone don't you think? Plus I can always use the extra hands." You say and give him a grin that makes his whole day worth it.

Steve thought the grin on his face was permanent, he did not even notice his cheeks starting to ache. There was a warm feeling in his chest and he felt a calmness wash over him the longer he was in you're company.

"You got a pen I can borrow Pet?" He said as an idea came to mind.

You pulled an ink pen out of her breast pocket and handed it to him. "Sure."

He took the pen and took a napkin and quickly jotted down his number. "Here," he hands her the napkin back with a lopsided boyish smile, "for next time, you know, when I can help out."

Captain America just gave you his phone number on a napkin. You couldn't help but grin at how cute and old fashioned that was. He looked so boyish and shy, you just had to tease him. "Just for work?"

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor @littlestxli @otterlycanadian @moviegurl2002

[crystallinecardinal]

“The strings are wrapped around you,” or, a discussion about Truthless Recluse, Pure Vanilla, and an idea of an awakening

One of the things I’ve been hung up on ever since finishing A Game of Truth and Deceit’s story is the fact that the things Truthless Recluse says does not feel exactly in character for Pure Vanilla. I’m sure this is the point. You’re supposed to get that feeling out of hearing him, Gingerbrave even directly points it out.

So, other than the corruption, why the so sudden change? Why is he suddenly turning against everyone? And most importantly, how is he supposed to get out of it?

Or, a CRK analysis/theory of sorts regarding Beast-Yeast episode 7, as well as how episode 8 might go, split into sections below the cut.

1 - An Introduction

I will start off by saying that before this update came out, I was one of the people adamant that Pure Vanilla was not going to end up corrupted. Not because I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, but because I couldn’t see a reason why.

For as much as Shadow Milk could break him, dig into his biggest fears and insecurities and make them appear real, there wasn’t a reason to me for him to suddenly turn against everyone on his own— not when those around him had consistently helped him, bringing him out of what might have been the worst dips of his bad mental state. Not unless Shadow Milk was able to really manipulate him into it.

Then again, I knew what Shadow Milk could do. I knew he could control the will of other cookies (seen with the faerie cookies), and disguise himself in another form (see: every time he impersonates the Light of Truth). I also knew Pure Vanilla would be vulnerable to him, both with the bad mental state, and by the fact that the first time they encountered each other, he was already struggling. The right strings being pulled could just make him snap.

And then, I saw Truthless Recluse. And I lost my mind.

So, the point of all this. I had been TERRIFIED before this update how Pure Vanilla would fall. I thought he’d have his sense of self broken, all his emotions toyed with, sure, but I wasn’t ready for a FULL CORRUPTION. Then I got to thinking: it’s been a pattern this happens, right? In the Ancient vs Beast chapters, they encounter each other, fight in some way, and the Ancient somehow loses their connection to their respective Light. They only awaken after, picking themself back up from the brink of defeat. And we already know Awakened Pure Vanilla exists, so that leaves the question: how do you help him? How does he come back from where he is now? How does he awaken if he’s already been “defeated?”

That’s what I’m here to discuss.

2 - The Spider-Man meme problem

So! Fortune Teller. That guy.

Almost everyone I saw took one look at him in the trailers and KNEW he was Pure Vanilla. Had to be. The voice was the same, appearance the same, motifs the same, the character design was a pretty big giveaway. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, yknow. It’s probably a duck.

And that presumption was right! Fortune Teller is Truthless Recluse, and by extension, Pure Vanilla.

How can that happen, though? If Pure Vanilla talks directly to Fortune Teller, how can they be the same? Luckily, the game decides to answer this question on its own!

So, if this is a space the future of the past (the present) and the future of the present (just the future) can both exist… that means Fortune Teller, and by extension, Truthless Recluse, are likely from the future. Not only because we’ve seen PV walking around in the present, but because we KNOW how TR talks about PV like he’s dead, as well as because of a fun little quote from Shadow Milk!

“In the end, you will become me.”

This is what I’m going to be building the rest of this off of. Stick with me here.

3 - What’s that, puppet boy??

Lies. Manipulation. Deceit.

These are the things Shadow Milk lives for. But any good snake, any good spider weaving a web, knows that the best lies have a hint of truth to them. This is what I intend to dissect.

It feels... a bit strange to think that Pure Vanilla could become someone like Shadow Milk. And yet, the signs are already there. He isn't honest with himself, tells white lies in the hopes that it may make someone feel better rather than the cruel truth, and his mental state is already in a horrid place. Of course, none of these are particularly bad things, they're human, and I can't blame him for any of it. But they're also all undeniably things that could lead him to snapping. What's the point doubt is all that's left? What's the point that he delves into the comfort of the lie of fantasy? What's the point that reality is too much agony to bear? Is that not how the Fount of Knowledge became the Master of Deceit, finding that cookies enjoyed the sweet lie more than the cruel truth?

“In the end, you will become me.”

And so, he just might.

So, consider. If present and future can both at once in Shadow Milk's domain, if Fortune Teller is not merely an illusion, then who's to say Truthless Recluse isn't who Pure Vanilla is destined to become?

The best lies have a shred of truth. This is our (hypothetical) truth. If nothing changes, if Pure Vanilla falls to Shadow Milk's games, lets himself be broken, plays the role he's had laid out for him ever since he was young (once again, if we choose to take that as truth and not an illusion), then his fate is sealed.

"Despair follows in your footsteps... A river lies on your path. Cross it, and you will face unfathomable dread. Turn back... Turn back before it is too late. Turn back before the cold flames of doubt swallow you whole."

That river is fast approaching, if it hasn’t already.

4 - Finding truth, breaking strings

Let's circle back to one of my first points.

"Then I got to thinking: it’s been a pattern this happens, right? In the Ancient vs Beast chapters, they encounter each other, fight in some way, and the Ancient somehow loses their connection to their respective Light. They only awaken after, picking themself back up from the brink of defeat. And we already know Awakened Pure Vanilla exists, so that leaves the question: how do you help him? How does he come back from where he is now? How does he awaken if he’s already been ‘defeated?’"

Is episode seven not still following the same formula, yet iterating on it in its own unique way? Pure Vanilla comes directly into contact with Shadow Milk, and tries to defend himself the most he can. However, he's a lot more vulnerable than the others this time around— after all, lies and truth cannot exist without the other. They're not entirely opposites. After having his sense of self shattered, Pure Vanilla falls from the Spire. Somewhere, he loses his connection to his Light of Truth. Enter: Truthless Recluse.

We know Pure Vanilla will eventually be awakened (see: dev commentary), so how does he leave the state he's in? How do you come back from falling so far?

This is where our "Truthless Recluse is a future version of Pure Vanilla" idea comes in handy! To put it simply: he hasn't become him yet. Not in reality. The present Pure Vanilla has fallen somewhere deep, deep down, into the darkest abyss... And has yet to come back. It sets a perfect scene to trick those closest to Pure Vanilla to believe the lie wrapped in truth of his ‘death,’ doesn't it?

It also solves our characterization problem from the very beginning of this post. I never said he immediately becomes Truthless Recluse. Given that in this interpretation, TR is what PV will eventually become, it provides a reason for Truthless Recluse to say the things he does, and act the way he does. Maybe Pure Vanilla wouldn’t have said or done those things, but to Truthless Recluse, that part of himself has long been dead.

So. Where does Pure Vanilla find his truth?

It could be a lot of things. However, one of the main things I've seen reiterated is just how much Shadow Milk toys with the mind. Right now, Pure Vanilla likely believes his entire life is a lie. Not once has he had free will. Since birth, he has been a marionette on strings, a plaything for a being beyond everything he ever knew. Every action, every decision, it was just part of an Oscar-worthy performance. Everything he may have once defined as himself is null.

And even worse: there's no one to drag him out of it this time. White Lily is gone, off on her own mission. Gingerbrave and his friends have Truthless Recluse to deal with. The Light of Truth is silent. Everyone, everything he may have depended on isn't there. It's just him, the Other-Realm, and eyes that have been watching for his entire lifetime.

To get out, he has to break the strings. Just as he once awoke from his prison when he needed to confront his past, he can do it again. But this time, it isn't going to be while he hides under another identity, it isn’t going to be while telling himself a lie. Outsmart the snake, remember, remember, remember. Hold onto the love, the care, the things that are true. No amount of deceit can change how he once felt. They say the heart is true. Maybe that's the key out.

To put it more simply: no matter what it ends up being that causes it, he needs to realize himself that he is in charge of his own destiny. The truth of the question "who am I" is "whoever you want to be." It isn't an question that can be answered by someone else. You only become fully truthless, only fully wall yourself away from everyone if you choose to do so. It isn't fate.

And so, in the end, I think Pure Vanilla will awaken. By proxy, if my entire idea here were to be true, Truthless Recluse would cease to exist. Paradoxes are funny that way. There's no way for that ending to exist if it's no longer the future that lies ahead.

5 - A conclusion

I have absolutely no clue what's coming in episode eight. I'll say that upfront. I have no clue, and it terrifies me. I love Pure Vanilla, I want him to make it out of this, but I know he won't make it out unscathed. The tragedy could stay, it could just be for this episode, it's unclear. We just have to wait until episode eight goes live.

Regardless, I want him to struggle. I don't think it makes sense for him to get out of this easily. Not when he considers himself pathetic, not when he can't trust the voice of the Light of Truth, not when he's been questioning himself. Let that doubt sink into him. Let him rebuild himself, piece by shattered piece. It makes for an emotional story, and makes me like Pure Vanilla even more as a character. Maybe that's just the Omori fan in me, but I love delves into characters' minds like that.

It may not be anything like what I've discussed here, but I'm very excited to see what Devsisters does. This is all I'm going to be thinking about until then.

[ilostthewar]

When it comes to our 141 boys, who’s the best at cooking? No trigger warnings for this one.

You know it’s Kyle, YOU KNOW ITS KYLE. LOOK AT THIS MAN. He learned to cook growing up and his skills kinda just naturally grew. He definitely used it as a flirting tactic in his fuck boy era, but I imagine he really does enjoy cooking. He gets to play music and vibe around the kitchen, it’s relaxing in a unique way he often isn’t allowed. He can be a little boujie when he wants to be, and he enjoys making different cultural and ethnic dishes he doesn’t get to have on base. He also enjoys the plating and picking good drinks to go with them. Definitely posts pictures of his meals when they turn out the way he wants. Soap will inevitably comment “I’m on my way”, and then an hour later Soap posts a picture of him in Gaz’s house eating his food, way too excited about it and Gaz is in the background glaring at him cause Gaz gave him specific instructions on what drink to bring, and Soap comes over with the same bottle of scotch he always does.

Next, surprisingly, Simon. I imagine when he was younger he didn’t care at all. He would probably steal MREs and just horck em down because sustenance was sustenance, whatever was cheapest and easiest. Very much a bottle of ketchup, 3 beers, and a gun in his fridge type guy. As he gets older, and after therapy that he swore he didn’t need, he probably succumbs to it and tries. Realizes he needs to put effort into the whole “being alive” thing, and cooking just happened to be the thing he tried, especially since as he gets older he realizes he can’t force down half a pizza at 2am and not get heartburn. It’s medative for him, honestly. It’s a low stakes task for him to accomplish, keeps his mind and hands busy. There are clear steps to follow, maybe a video if he’s really confused. And at the end, he’s made something good that he gets to eat. It doesn’t always look the best but he always feels oddly proud about it. He’ll complain if anyone is in the kitchen with him, he hates that shit, actually. But he does like presenting something he made and watching other people enjoy his work. He will stare at people while they eat, and forget to eat himself at first, cause he’s trying to figure out if they actually like it or they’re lying. Unfortunately, it just looks like he’s glaring at you… he will pack you left overs to take with you.

Next is John, what can I say. He’s pretty okay at cooking. He’s not fucking anything up horrendously and most of his food comes out good enough. It simply wasn’t a skill he put a lot of effort into when he was younger. However, there are a few dishes that are his speciality that he nails every time and if his goal is to impress, he pulls them out. Also, he’s out here barbecuing. He’s such a fucking guy about it, too. Stands by the grill, has a whole marinade/seasoning situation that he insists is secret, he stole it off the back of a bbq bottle. Does NOT want anyone to mess with his meats, he’s in control of the grill, don’t touch, his control freak comes out. However, if you linger nearby too long you get dragged into a conversation about “protecting the integrity of the meat” whatever the fuck that means.

And at the bottom is poor Johnny. To be fair, it’s not exactly his fault. One of his issues is that he gets distracted easily, especially with cooking that requires wait times between steps. When he’s at home and his brain is allowed to relax he’ll walk away and then get caught up with something else and come back and remember he was supposed to be toasting the nuts, not burning them. He always wants to experiment with cooking and unfortunately it doesn’t always work. He takes the instructions as a suggestion and ingredients as suggestions, throws in seasonings where they aren’t needed or decides to pull something from the cabinet and toss it in. I think he’s the king of “I don’t know why but it works” combinations, and others will try to turn their nose up at it until they try it, and then they have to admit he was right. I do believe he is GREAT at being a kitchen partner. Give him a little task to do and he’s having a great time, does have a habit of always being in the way, but part of that is because he’s so fucking bulky. The funniest part is he is hilariously great at baking, cause that’s just chemistry and art and he’s great at both of those.

[chloe-spade]

Fight for What You Love: I See London

London.

London.

LONDON.

Noah should've expected so much whenever he was in a new place around the world, and London was somewhat on his to-do list, but not while they were trying to avoid Jack the Ripper while doing stupid challenges. Luckily for him, they were on the stretcher, for which Tyler happily volunteered.

"Quick tie him down before Alejandro shows up and makes me do it just because I'm shorter," groaned Noah.

"Aw, why don't you like Al?" Owen spoke up, tying Tyler down. "He's great."

"I don't trust the guy," Noah answered, hands on the wheel. "He's like an eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil."

"Hm, dirty?"

"Slippery," Noah corrected. "Think about it, Owen. He's like Heather only with social skills. And trust me, I've seen that first hand."

Tyler's anguish screams cut their conversation short, even though Noah hadn't started it yet.

"Stop," Tyler begged. "Stop! It's too much! Stop!"

"You do realize that we haven't started yet, right?"

Tyler gets up and looks around before sighing in relief. "My bad, it's cool. I'll go silent. Sweaty yoga-ish monk style."

Noah rolled his eyes and started to turn the wheel.

"Well, if we are going to talk about our friends," Owen chuckled as he looked at the side. "Like you and Cody?'

Noah blushed as he pulled on the wheel, which caused Tyler to react in surprise.

"..What about him exactly?" Noah muttered as he carefully started to turn the wheel. "Well, I guess I could say that he's simple but goofy and funny to be around…most of the time. And we had a couple of accidents during the World Tour."

"Like Al made you think of Cody when you kissed that fish-"

"NOT THAT."

"Hehe, sorry, but it seems to me that you love Cody," Owen teased. "Like a massive ton!"

"Hey, just because I kissed his stupid ear during Island does not mean I love him," Noah rolled his eyes. "It's unrealistic that I have a crush on him."

"But you have that look. I know the look," Tyler intervened. "It's the look of love."

"Says that whose girlfriend forgets he exists every 5 minutes," scoffed Noah. "Like come on. Even if I did like Cody, he likes Gwen, remember?"

"Oh…no, he doesn't," Tyler commented. "I mean, when's the last time he tried to look cool in front of her."

"Every day if he wasn't smothered from that freak." Noah chuckled. "She is so freaky that I can't believe Chris even lets her participate. Poor Cody, I know I wouldn't treat him like that."

"Oh my god, he said it," Tyler gasped, looking up at Owen. "He compared himself."

"I don't think he noticed." Owen whispered back. "But let him talk. I think this is the only time he's talking about his feelings for Cody."

"I would've liked this if I wasn't be stretched out right now," Tyler groaned. "Does that mean I own you 28.98 Candian Dollers?"

"You bet, buddy."

"Shouldn't you be quiet?" Noah asked Tyler, glaring at him.

Tyler shuts up after that, but Owen decides to ease Noah into talking again.

"Come on, little buddy, I want to hear you talk about Cody more," Owen urged. "I think it's a good way to let your frustrations out."

It made him oddly bitter, and that was new for Cody. He never felt bitter before, especially towards a girl he liked. Yep. Liked.

Noah continued to talk about it until the hatch opened, revealing a new clue for them to read.

☕

Cody groaned as he took care of his burned hand. But it wasn't surprising. What did he think would happen when he fell asleep during the day in Jamaica? He should've known better, but man, he was tired for many reasons, which made him feel bad. In the most sociable words Cody could think of, Sierra is a massive pain. He still goes by what he said when he tried to eliminate her, but the other girls had him apologize for something that wasn't his fault.

Cody didn't know how a crush could disappear so quickly, but it did. He enjoyed it while on the World Tour, but her joining Sierra in an attempt to get her back on her feet made Cody very sour. It was so sour that he backed off and hasn't tried to make any moves, which Gwen overlooked.

During that time, he felt stuck.

But all that changed when he remembered catching Noah during their Yukon Trip, causing an accidental kiss. But Cody took it in good faith and joked about it.

And now everything between them made so much sense! He didn't think much about it, but Noah seemed nicer to Cody, and unlike Owen, he barely gave him nicknames that many considered demeaning—the stares, the laugh at Cody's sucky jokes while at Economy Class. Everything started to make sense, and now he has to find a way to tell Noah.

Cody.

Cody likes…

Cody likes Noah now.

Or did he want to?

Was it because of Sierra? Mostly.

He wants to. But he was scared.

Why?

But did he care that much? No.

He's sick of trying to bend to people's expectations, and there was no more bullying.

This was Cody's choice. And he needs to do it.

"The Ripper's Most Natural Place has two levels that make up the space," Noah reads, then scoffed. "Sure…easy peasy."

Especially since Sierra was the one that got them caught by Jack The Ripper, so there's that.

☕

Things couldn't get any worse for Noah. Tyler was so silent that they forgot, which led to his capture. Owen was making a fool of himself, which isn't bad when they were on the plane, but not during the challenge.

"Double Decker Bus?" Own answered as he took a dog off his arm.

"Yeah," Noah acknowledged. "So there is a brain in there. You've been holding out on me."

"Holding Out?" Owen gasped. "I told you I smuggled some wieners off the plane!

Noah chuckled as he started to walk away, with Owen following. Going to the night with the stars out and a killer on the loose who could capture them at any moment was scary, but as they approached the Double-Decker Bus, bag in hand, they entered the Bus, hoping that the clue was right.

As they entered the Bus, they noticed how empty it was. But that wasn't unusual, but it made things extra creepy.

"Here, Ripper, Ripper, Ripper," Owen whimpered as the friends tip-toed forward. "We have a lovely bag for you."

Noah didn't have to say much as he felt the Ripper's hands around his mouth and swooped up above Owen, but Owen noticed when he heard the doors of the driver seat open and Noah's unsettling screams.

But Noah watched as Owen released the dogs, who imminently attacked Owen. But once one of the dogs found the sausage, Owen kicked it into the Ripper's hands, and all six dogs attacked him, and that's when Owen bagged him up.

"Alright Owen," Noah cheered.

"Who's the Ripper now?" Owen proudly grinned as he farted in the Ripper's face. "Oh, Noah, let me get you out."

"Sweet, everyone's ok!"

"No! Wait until the air clears!" Noah screamed.

☕

Once the teams boarded the plane, it was a relief to see that everyone was alright. Noah was concerned about why Alejandro wasn't happy that they had won and was just glaring daggers at Noah.

"Yep, everyone's fine," Heather confirmed. "You guys were so stupid to be worried."

Everyone glared, so Heather shut her mouth, which Noah was glad about.

"But it was reasssuring to see that someone was concerned," Alejandro spoke, glaring at Noah completely.

"You…You were watching everything?" Noah asked, now feeling a sense of dread. "Well, that's awkward."

"Like an eel dipped in grease," Alejandro repeated, his eyes narrowing down some more.

"Where I'm from, that's a compliment," Noah chuckled nervously, though he knew Alejandro saw right through him. "Tough Neighbourhood and all that."

Noah cleared his throat. "But hey! We caught the Ripper type guy!"

Owen unbagged the Ripper, who looked disheveled after the dogs attacked. His wrinkles curled when he frowned, looking over the teens who watched him.

"Old Man Jenkins?" Everyone gasped in unison.

Chris stoically stepped forward and grabbed the old man's head, revealing another shocking face—a face that everyone thought was eliminated in the very first episode.

"Ezekiel?" Everyone gasped again.

"Found him living in the cargo hold," Chef explained. "Found him homeschooling with the rats."

"I was gonna let him back in the game if he avioded getting captured." Chris added. "But since he could not."

He was booted off the plane. But there was still a question that lingered around.

"Who did Courtney and Gwen catch?" Heather asked, looking at their full bag.

"Well, Chris wanted a crinimal," Gwen started, looking down at the bag. "Well, ok, we didn't catch the right one. But.."

When Gwen removed the bag, Noah and the others' eyes widened at the sight of the green-haired delinquent. Everyone didn't even know his location, and he was right back on the plane once again.

"Duncan?"

"You brought me back here?" Duncan groaned, annoyed. "Ugh, where the stupid exit again?"

Duncan was ready to leave until Chris stopped.

"Uh, uh, uh, not so fast, quitter," Chris spoke, stopping Duncan. "Thought you could skip out on the game, eh? Thought we wouldn't find you, hmm?"

"Um, you didn't. We did." Gwen corrected, with Courtney nodding in agreement. "Sorry."

"And that's why Team Me is Super Hot is our winner!!" Chris announced. "That means that Team Amazon is going to the elimination room. Don't be late."

Everyone gasped in surprise.

"And Duncan, since you just came back, you join Chris is Really, Really, Really, Really hot!"

"…what kind of team name is that?" Duncan cringed. "That name is stupid."

"Blame the stalker," Noah chuckled, pointing at Sierra. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Cody groaned as he entered the restroom. His hand was still burned, and he felt his heart beating so hard, considering the camera situation when they were captured. Watching Noah, who is just as stoic as a soldier, admits to having feelings for Cody made Cody feel very warm. He was so lucky that Sierra was arguing with Alejandro during that time. He had to get it out of his chest, even if it was in the confessional.

"Ugh, whatever," Duncarn rolled his eyes and walked past them.

☕

Gwen was the one who got eliminated. Heather, Sierra, and, to her shock, Cody were the main ones who voted, but she accepted and jumped.

"Uugh," Cody groaned again. "I feel all fuzzy inside, like I drank too much pop…." he paused when he realized the camera. "…Cause Gwen is gone! Obviously! Stinks we lost Gwem…and the challenge."

Cody looked down and sighed.

"…Is it wrong that I'm glad we lost?" Cody finally asked. "I-"

He jumped as he heard the door open, and Noah was there. He didn't look quite surprised, which Cody was grateful for.

"Oh crud- I didn't lock the door?!" Cody gasped, still in shock.

"The lock's broken-who's surprised." Noah replied sarcastically, looking at Cody. "How's the hand doing?"

"Not much better," Cody boasted. "Why? You have something to say bout it?"

Noah chuckles and carefully grabs his hand. "Maybe I do? Is that a bad thing?"

Cody laughed and looked down at his hand. "Ow…Hey, you know that hurts."

"What are you going to do about it?" Noah teased, a playful smirk on his face that made his eyes sparkle.

Cody felt a rush of energy coursing through him as he looked at Noah, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. This is your chance, his mind urged, the two thoughts intertwining with each other. You must kiss him, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life!

The moment's warmth enveloped them, and the tension hung thick in the air as Cody's gaze lingered on Noah's lips, making it harder to suppress the instinct pushing him closer.

Cody gulped, put his free hand on Noah's cheek, and pulled him forward for a kiss. Noah didn't even object as he lingered closer, hands carefully intertwined. Nothing could stop this moment, and they were so in the moment that they didn't know that Tyler watched with bated breath, now witnessing the moment of love.

Cody was with the one he truly loved.

What's the worst that can happen?

(au belongs to @fight-for-what-you-love who gave me permission to write this)

[markleessodalite]

What Scares Them About Love: NCT Dream

Haedcanon: what are the dreamies most scared of when it comes to falling in (or out of) love?

content: mentions of general insecurity, but nothing specific... i don't think there's anything specific to warn about here but lmk if i miss something!!

Mark:

 Mark is scared of being a fool for love. Mark likes to think of himself as a clever guy, quick on his feet, nothing and no one can get the better of him. On the other hand, though, he knows how he gets when he’s in love. Its like any finesse or composure he has flies out the window as soon as that certain someone appears. Yeah, its cute and charming, a usually cool and collected guy suddenly becoming a bumbling, rambling mess– unless a lovesick Mark lands in the hands of the wrong person. Mark knows he’d be so easy, too easy to take advantage of if he’s in love. And he’s terrified of being the fool who gets his heart played with, just because he was too dumb to notice the game.

Renjun:

Renjun is scared of not being enough. So much of his life is already under scrutiny, the very nature of his career is dependent on millions of people watching his every move, every performance, every look on his face at every second. You might think that with him being judged so often, he would become immune to it– but its different when Renjun is in love. People talk about love making you feel light and secure, safe, like nothing in the world could hurt you now. For Renjun, love just makes him remember all the things he’s insecure about, and all the ways someone might be dissatisfied with him. He’s scared of wanting to be everything for someone, but not being able to amount to anything.

Jeno:

Jeno is scared of exposing himself. He’s most comfortable when he can keep others at arm’s length, and there’s a very, very select few people in his life who actually get to see Jeno’s true self. Yes, he’s a member of one of the most popular idol groups, he performs to thousands of people on a regular basis who completely adore him, he posts a selfie that he took two seconds to snap and the comments are flooded with praise and affection. But he's in control of all of that– he knows exactly what to say and do to get the exact reaction he wants from others. When it comes to love, its an entirely different story. He knows that for a relationship to truly grow, he must show his true self to someone. And he knows that when he shows his true self, his most vulnerable insecurities and transparently naked thoughts, he loses all control over how that someone thinks of him. Jeno is so afraid of someone seeing him in such an exposed state, and deciding that they don’t like what they see.

Haechan:

 Haechan is afraid of effort. Not in the sense that he’s lazy– in fact, its the exact opposite. Haechan might just be the busiest man on the planet, and he puts an extreme amount of care and effort into everything he does. He’s constantly moving, constantly thinking, he’s not sure he even knows how to stop moving or thinking. But there’s only so far he can stretch himself without tearing apart at the seams. So really, what Haechan is afraid of is giving what little of himself he has left to somebody, and it ends up not being enough. He doesn’t have enough time, enough focus, enough energy to really give to someone. His biggest fear about love is losing it altogether because the effort he puts in just isn’t enough.

Jaemin:

Nothing about love scares Jaemin. The only thing he’s afraid of is seeing his love story end. Jaemin is a romantic at heart, he loves the very idea of love, and love truly means something very special and important to him. So, he doesn’t give his love easily to just anybody. He’s picky, because to him, his love story is meant to be the only love story he’ll experience, and it’s supposed to last until the end of time. He’s built to love someone until his last breath; he is not built to suffer through love fading, to go through a break up with someone he thought he’d be with forever, to watch everything he hoped and worked for dissolve into dust. When Jaemin’s incredibly high standards prevent him from finding someone, its not because he has an aversion to love. Jaemin is just terrified of what happens when love ceases to exist.

Chenle:

Chenle is afraid of backing down. Chenle is a prideful man, confident and sure. So confident and sure that he’s sometimes uncompromising, and a successful relationship is all about compromise. Chenle is perfectly aware of how important compromise is, yet there’s just something in him that refuses to let go, refuses to give up, refuses to compromise when he knows that he’s in the right. In a way, Chenle knows that a potential roadblock on his journey to love is his tendency to sabotage himself. He’s not just afraid of conceding defeat, he’s afraid that his stubbornness will be the death of his love.

Jisung:

Jisung is afraid of what love might mean for him. Jisung is still so young. Not to mention with how busy he is, how much stuff he has going on in every aspect of his life, how he’s still trying to fit into his own skin and figure out who he is… he just knows that if he were to fall in love at this stage in his life, it wouldn’t last. It would result in some sort of heartbreak that would change him in some way, and Jisung is terrified of what that change could be. He doesn’t want to become someone hardened and bitter, he doesn’t want to be heartbroken and sad all the time. He’s so scared of feeling all the emotions that come with love and the end of it, that for him, it seems better to avoid it altogether.