#even though i feel there is still more i could talk about

[retiredteabag]

I’m listening to you

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

Synopsis: You stop talking because you assume they aren’t listening… how silly of you, but how do they react?

my masterlist

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Satoru

It would probably be like any other day, he had probably just come back from a mission, laying across the couch and you would be in the kitchen making a snack board as you talked about numerous different things.

The conversation would shift through a multitude of topics as one thing would then reminded you of the next.

As you were getting the chips, you would explain the drama at work after that you would go and get some hummus while you explained the love life of one of your coworkers thereafter you would be reminded of a friend of yours from high school while piling up some cheese cubes.

Throughout all of this, there were very few breaks in your speech. When you finally came to the living room, Satoru would be facing towards you, with his head slightly tilted back on the armrest and his feet dangling off the other edge.

You could see him, just not very well. His blindfold would also be on, not an uncommon occurrence, but it would still be hard for you to see the slight changes in his facial features that typically depicted his emotions to you.

After awhile, you might start to wonder if he was feeling tired from the mission or if he just wasn’t paying attention. It’s okay, getting distracted happens to everyone sometimes.

Your words would taper off.

Believe me when I say it would not take this man any longer than say…five seconds for his head to raise and voice to pipe up,

“Well what happened next?”

And with a grabby hand he would add,

“Aren’t you gonna share those?”

Turning to point at the snacks in your lap.

For such a chatty guy, you would be surprised by how much he enjoyed just listening to others. Especially if it meant listening to you.

Nanami

Let’s be realistic here, this man would never take his undivided attention away from you.

That being said, the situation would be a little bit different with him. You guys would probably be out for coffee. Maybe the both of you had been busy for a while and felt the need to make a day out of catching up.

You know that embarrassing feeling when you get the notion you’ve been talking too much? It would be something like that.

You would have been gesturing and looking around the room while you talked about this and that. Unbeknownst to you, he would have hearts in his eyes while he listened to your ramblings.

That sudden itch would get to you though, the notion that, maaaaaaaaybe you have been talking about yourself too long.

One quick look at your man caused a shiver to run up your back at the eye contact.

There would be a pause in your speech, and he would nod at you to encourage more words to spill fourth, but now you were all flustered.

You would trip over your words, stuttering every so often before eventually apologizing.

“What is it, dear?”

He would ask, after a moment of you trying to collect yourself, he would assume that you had simply lost your train of thought and remind you of the topics you had been previously sharing.

You would thank him even though that wouldn’t have been the issue at all.

How could you not get shy when he was looking at you like that?

Choso

This would have to occur after a long day. Either during nap time or before you both went to bed.

He would be laying his head on your chest as you played with his freed hair. Talking about stuff you had seen online, talking about your plans for the next day, talking about what you were planning to eat for lunch tomorrow, the list could go on.

Every so often he would hum or nod his head. But after a while, you would look down and see that his eyes were closed.

It wasn’t hurtful, or embarrassing. It has been a long day for the both of you, and he was probably just tired. He often fell asleep easily when you combed through his hair with your nails. So you wouldn’t be offended as you go silent.

After you stop talking, though, he would grab your free hand and fiddle with your fingers, saying,

“I like those tacos too… we should get lunch together!”

You would giggle and tug on a lock of his hair, “I thought you were asleep.”

He would spin around onto his chest, chin pressed slightly into you while he looked up at your eyes through those big, long, lashes of his, “But you were talking to me?”

Sukuna

This man :| he would get offended if you insinuated that you could possibly be boring him.

Of course, it would be his fault, too. He would complain and whine all the time about how uninterested he was in your life. Griping that he had better things to do than just sit around and listen to you talk.

But don’t misunderstand, there was nothing he desired more than to watchyou speak about things that impassioned you.

But perhaps one of those instances you would take to heart, he was a busy man after all. It’s not like he had all the time in the world to listen to you yap about nonsense.

So after a long while in his chambers, you would just kind of go silent. ‘Allowing’ him a little time to himself.

Just earlier that day, you would have been telling him a story about one of your fellow workers at the estate. Sukuna had rolled his eyes at the incompetence of his staff as you giggled on about how a man got his hand stuck in a jar full of fertilizer.

You would take his disinterested countenance to assume that he was bored with you. For someone so ancient, he did have an attention span fitting to the times.

He always told you not to make assumptions about him, but after him asking you on several occasions, “and why are you telling me this?” You couldn’t help or conclude that he wasn’t all that interested.

I’ll tell you now. As much as he would like to pretend that was the case, it is far from the truth.

He would frown while laying on his bed. “Why did you stop?”

You would spin around, slightly surprised that he had even been paying attention. “Oh I just thought maybe I was boring you…”

That would cause him to sit up, scowling in your direction, “Did I say that?”

“Well…”

“Did. I. Say. That.”

“…no?”

Undeniably, sassy, he would splay out his arms in a “see??” type of motion. Waiting rather impatiently for you to continue on so he could relax to the sound of his lovers soothing voice while pretending to be impartial to it all.

Toji

This prick.

He wouldn’t do a thing lol

This man would let you assume he isn’t listening, let you think he’s off somewhere else, let you think he’s checked out.

But that could not be more wrong.

Maybe he’s eating his lunch, or watching tv, or texting someone. Whatever the case, there’s nothing he’s more locked into than your words.

In fact, it would take you a while into your relationship for you to realize this, but sometimes you would have to be careful around Toji because once you said something, this man would remember it forever.

You probably wouldn’t even think about it when you stopped talking, deciding to put your efforts into something else. But Toji would notice.

He wouldn’t bring it up though, not for days. But eventually he would crack the conversation back again, flipping the newspaper over and avoiding your eyes.

You would spin around on him, wondering how he even knew the things he was talking about. Then it would hit you.

“Wait… you were listening?”

He would scoff, elbows on the table, finally looking at you over his reading glasses. “Excuse me?” He would point an accusatory finger at you and set down the paper. “Was I listening?”

You would gape at him open mouthed, “Well… how was I supposed to know?”

He would roll his eyes in the most dramatic of fashions, getting up from the kitchen table to stroll over to you. “Please,” he would groan, grazing a knuckle over your neck,

“You’ve always got my attention.”

Yuuji

One might think this would happen early on in the relationship but I would argue this situation would happen after years together.

Why? Well, Yuuji is a super excitable guy, he also just loves talking to you. You both make a great pair because the two of you always converse in a way suitable to each other.

For example, sometimes you’d interrupt one another, never in a rude way, but in a way that shows passion about the topic at hand. That would bring on a whole new discussion and keep the conversation flowing.

Yuuji was a great listener when he needed to be but mainly he was a great conversationalist. Neither of you needed to do heavy lifting when you talked. It was great!

After awhile though, the two of you would become more and more comfortable around one another and more accustomed to the way you spoke.

That’s why it was so weird to see him less active in a conversation. He wasn’t interjecting with his little agreements or experiences. He would still be looking at you, but it was different.

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he might just be uninterested in the topic so you would get all quiet, focusing on something else until he spoke up.

“No, keep talking.”

Grinning at you, he looked just like he always did.

“You’re not bored?”

He would squint, confused at the notion, “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you just seem a little quiet I guess.”

But he would just smile at you, “I don’t know what it is… but recently I’ve been liking just admiring you.”

He would say things like that out of the blue all the time by the way.

“Yuuuuujiiiii” you would groan.

“What? Doesn’t mean I’m not listening!”

Megumi

Inversely to Yuuji, this would happen with Megumi early on in y’all’s relationship, likely pre-relationship when the two of you were just getting to know one another.

Megumi wasn’t really shy at all, he was more reserved, even though you weren’t all that talkative, he could still unintentionally make you feel like a blabbermouth at times.

The two of you would probably have been out on a walk together, or maybe in the cafeteria getting lunch, wherever, you would have been sharing some piece of yourself with him.

It would also probably have been a long time since he had spoke up. Sometimes he wouldn’t even give listening cues so it’s not too unusual to suppose that he was checked out.

Megumi was NOT checked out though. He was filing every little word you said away into his brain, and thinking of the best way to respond to you.

You might not know this though, so after awhile you might get all shy, suddenly looking off, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Embarrassed that he hadn’t heard a word, that’s when he would turn to you,

“I’m listening.”

Simple as that.

Reassuring but not overly affectionate.

He would do it in public and in private. If you were in a group and he could tell your confidence was slipping he would jump in to let you know that he cared about your thoughts and opinions.

And like in this instance when it was just the two of you, he might reach over to grab your hand, letting you know,

“I’m still here.”

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[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind is filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

do you have any kinks?

pairing: daddy!chan x fem reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: daddy kink, breeding kink, pet names, oral (f.receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

an: the pictures i chose for this banner.. are just pictures ive been obsessing over. they’re my favorite pictures atm. need him so so bad. okie here 🤲🏻 have this. love you.

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

“can i ask you a question?” you had just taken your shower, your hair still slightly damp. chris was reclined on the bed, one arm behind his head, one hand holding his phone, wearing nothing but his boxers. upon hearing your question, he tossed his phone onto the bed beside him.

“of course. you can ask me anything.” he smiled. but you were still nervous. you had been dating chris for a few months now, and things were going great. he had been spending the past few weekends over at your place. and today, this saturday night, was no different. you really did feel like you could talk to him about anything. but still your stomach churned with anxiety.

“do.. you have any.. kinks?” you couldn’t look at him, instead opting to search through your dresser for your favorite pajamas. he was silent for a moment, though it felt like an eternity.

he cleared his throat, embarrassed by your question.

“you don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable.” you blurted out, grabbing your pajamas and slamming the dresser drawer closed. you were starting to rethink this conversation, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. but you couldn’t ignore the way you felt. couldn’t ignore your desires. couldn’t ignore the way he treated you.

you spared a nervous glance in his direction. he was smiling at you, his ears were a little red, but mostly he was just enamored by you. he chuckled. “i don’t mind to answer. like i said, you can ask me anything.”

you dropped your towel, leaving you bare before him for a moment, only to slip your pajamas on. his cock twitched, but he ignored it. focused on the conversation. “i guess.. i don’t have any kinks? or maybe i do and i don’t know about them?” he thought about it some more and couldn’t come up with anything. “why do you ask?”

you tossed your used towel into the hamper and nervously climbed into bed next to him. “uh.. no reason.” you said, pulling the blanket up over your body and laying back onto your pillow.

he sat up, looking over at you. “suuree.” he said. he knew you were lying. you wouldn’t just ask that for no reason. he wondered what made you think of such a question. “do you?” he asked.

“do i what?”

“have any kinks.” he clarified. “you.. don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

you were silent. contemplating whether or not you wanted to be honest with him right now. should you just blurt it out and get it over with? like ripping a band-aid? or would he think you were weird, and should you keep it to yourself..

“it’s.. nothing.” you said, cursing yourself for even starting this conversation in the first place.

“i understand if you don’t want to tell me yet.” he reached for your hand, which was holding onto the blanket for dear life. he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “i would never judge you though. i’m very open minded.”

he snuggled under the blanket, his body next to yours. he held his arms out, inviting you to lay in your favorite spot. you turned over, your head against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. you could hear the thumping of his heart in your ears. he gently grazed his fingertips up and down your arm, lazily tracing designs into your skin. a long while had passed. so long that you thought he may be asleep, though you didn’t hear his signature snores.

your arm that was wrapped around his middle, squeezed him tightly, in preparation for what you were about to say. “i want to call you daddy.”

it fell out of your mouth, in a not so graceful way. you squeezed your eyes shut, hugging his body tightly, afraid he may push you away.

but he didn’t.

instead, you heard a low hum radiate through his chest.

“you have a daddy kink?” he asked. you couldn’t tell by his tone if he was excited by your confession, or disgusted.

“i.. guess?” your voice was quiet. though he could hear you just fine in the silent room. “it’s been on my mind recently.”

his fingers continued their trails along your arm. “what’s been causing you to think that?”

you took a moment to think about your answer. “uh.. i think about it when you call me princess.. and when you do stuff for me.. like that time you helped me brush my hair.”

“i see.” he said. it didn’t feel dismissive. it just felt like he understood and was formulating his next thought. “but isn’t a kink.. something sexual?” he asked. “what you’re talking about isn’t sexual.”

“well i think about it when we’re having sex too..” you confessed.

he made a hmph sound. “well that’s disappointing.”

your heart sank. disappointing? he hated it. he thought you were gross.

“i.. im sorry.” you said, your voice mousy. “just forget i said anything.”

he squeezed you tighter. “no, no baby. i don’t mean i’m disappointed that you think about that.” he explained. “i’m disappointed that you can think at all while i’m fucking you. i’m not doing it well enough.”

you huffed out a laugh. “oh you’re doing it well. believe me.”

he giggled, rocking your bodies back and forth. “oh yeah?” he teased.

you looked up at him, giggling too. “yeah.”

he leaned down, pressing his smiling lips to yours. his giggles died down, and his tongue slipped into your mouth.

it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, for his panting breaths to be mingled with your desperate ones. kissing chris was one of your favorite things to do. maybe it was his lips, so plump and kissable. or maybe it was his skill. he clearly knew what he was doing. you didn’t like to think about how many girls he may have kissed before you.

he turns you over so you’re on your back again, and he is hovering above you. his kisses travel down your jaw, down your neck. his beautiful hands slowly found their way under your shirt. his index fingers finding your bare nipples. he pushed the material up, exposing your chest to him. he latched those kissable lips around one of your nipples, sucking and licking on it gently.

your right hand found it way into his hair, not tugging or pushing, just feeling him. trying to ground yourself by touching something with texture. when he was done with your breast, he migrated down further, his lips and tongue exploring your tummy. he looked up at you through his lashes as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. he was looking at you for approval. you silently lifted your hips off the bed, aiding him in removing your shorts, permission granted.

his fingers found your folds before his lips did. his middle finger dipping in gently and playing in your arousal. “look at your little flower, baby..” he cooed. “so messy for me..” his lips followed shortly after, finding their way to your clit, his tongue taking long strokes across it. your eyes closed and your head fell back as you focused on the way he was making you feel. he loved to watch you while you were like this. loved to see you feel good because of what he was doing to you.

he carefully guided two of his long fingers inside your drippy hole. he slid them in as far as you would allow it, and he curved them upward, gently thrusting. the moans and whimpers falling from your lips were music to his ears. the sweetest sound he had ever heard. he would do anything to have you make those noises. he wanted to record them so he could listen to them whenever he wished.

“please..” you whined. your glassy eyes looking down at him, his tongue working quickly against your bud.

“please what, princess?” he said, his breath warm against your skin.

“need you..” you breathed. “please.”

“need me?” he played dumb. he shoved his aching cock against your leg, grinding against you so you could feel how hard he was. “need this, baby?”

you squirmed underneath him, nodding frantically. “please.. please..” you begged.

he slowly removed his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his lips. he sucked them clean, groaning at the taste. you felt you may explode. spontaneously combust. no one had ever made you feel the way that he does. no one had ever turned you on so much.

he pulled his boxers down, his cock springing free. he kicked his boxers off the bed, and knelt in front of you, spreading your legs. “ready, princess?”

you nodded, your big puppy dog eyes begging him to please just fuck you already.

he ran his tip up and down your folds, tapping it against your sensitive clit before finally sliding inside of you. you took him in easy. he had prepped you well. “fuck.. baby..” he exhaled. his hands gripped your hips harshly as he began to thrust. his slow and gently demeanor didn’t last long once he was inside you. he couldn’t handle himself anymore. it was no time at all before he was pounding into you, tapping your cervix with each thrust.

“fuck..” you moaned. “feels so good da-“ you cut yourself off, suddenly overthinking things. the D word almost slipped out. you clamped around him, seizing up at your mistake.

“relax for me, princess.” he said, rubbing your skin gently with his fingers. you exhaled a long breath, relaxing your body.

he started fucking you again, quickly working up to his previous pace. “feel good baby?” he asked.

“yes. yes.. so good.” your hands explored his muscled body. your fingertips brushing over his abs and his pecs and his biceps.

“mmm” he moaned. “say it.”

you were nervous again, but he didn’t slow down. wouldn’t let you clamp around him.

“say it.” he ordered.

your eyes were focused on where your bodies were connected, how easily he slipped in and out of you. how much of a mess you were making of the both of you.

“look at me.” he growled. your eyes quickly snapped up to meet his. “you’re okay. i’ve got you. say it.”

you continued to stare into his beautiful brown eyes, but your mouth refused to move. your vocal chords refused to make the sounds. you were scared. but you didn’t know why anymore. you didn’t want to be scared anymore. you just couldn’t make your body listen. there was too much going on.

“princess..” his tone shifted to one of warning now. “say it or i’m going to stop.”

“no! please..” you begged. “please don’t stop.”

“then say it. be a good girl for me and call me by my title.”

“fuck..” your breathing was ragged, your orgasm on the edge of release. “daddy..”

his eyes rolled back, his head leaning to one side before straightening again, his tongue in his cheek. “again.”

“daddy..” it fell from your lips easy now. you loved the taste of it in your mouth. “daddy.. gonna cum.”

“you’re gonna cum on daddy’s cock, baby?”

“yes, please. fuck, daddy, please.” your body was on fire, every nerve tingling.

“i.. fuck. i have a confession to make.” he grunted. “i do.. have a kink.”

your pleasure ridden mind was trying to process his words.

“do you wanna know what it is, sweet girl?” he asked, his thrusts getting sloppy. “wanna know daddy’s kink?”

you nodded, gripping his biceps. “please tell me, daddy. please.. fuck.”

“i’ve got a breeding kink.” he growled. “wanna fill your little pussy up baby. can i do that?”

you were nodding before he even finished his sentence. “gonna let me pump my cum into you? hmm? can’t.. fuck.. can’t waste a drop.”

“yes please daddy.. please cum in me.” his eyes looked wild now, sweat dripping off his face and onto your chest. “please daddy, fill me up.”

his grip on your hips tightened, sure to leave a bruise. “cum with me, baby.” he panted. “cum with daddy.”

and with one last thrust, he stilled inside you. your orgasm crashed over you as his cock twitched inside you, filling you so full, it leaked out around his balls and onto the sheets.

he slumped on top of you, his head on your shoulder, his lips against your neck. he placed soft kisses there. you ran your fingers up his back, then to his hair, trying to brush the sweaty strands out of his face.

“was that okay?” he breathed against your skin, out of breath. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay.” you nodded and smiled. “are you?”

he raised his head and looked at you. he looked completely fucked out and you supposed you did too. “i’m so okay. better than okay.” he giggled, kissing you quickly. “we should have had that talk a long time ago.”

he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you. he went to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you up. he gently wiped at your sensitive skin, careful to not overstimulate you. the D word came to mind again.

“i’m thinking it again.” you said quietly.

“thinking what, baby?” he asked, still cleaning you, making sure to get every drop of your shared release.

“thinking about calling you daddy.” you confessed. his hand stilled and he looked up at you. “how can i not when you take such good care of me?”

he smiled, finished his cleaning, and then kissed the tip of your nose. “you can call me daddy whenever you want to, princess.” he said. “i love it.”

“really?” you asked, your heart beating fast.

“really really.” he kissed your lips before throwing the washcloth into the hamper and cuddling close to you. he pulled your body against his, kissing the top of your head. “i love taking care of you. it would be an honor for you to call me daddy.”

you smiled. you were so incredibly happy. so proud of yourself for starting the conversation. your heart felt so full. you cuddled close to your daddy, nuzzling your face into his chest. your eyes closed, heavy with sleep that was about to pull you under. and you thought the next conversation would have to be about the L word.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Oh oh I can tell you how I handle this!

First, I must acknowledge that epithets are hard. When writing in a specific character's POV, you have to be careful about describing another character only using descriptors that they would use or it'll feel awkward and weird. (I don't generally think about my sister's height relative to mine and therefore wouldn't refer to her as "the tall one" or even "the taller one", for example, unless it's relevant in the moment. Talking? Not relevant. Her hitting her head on a ledge that I missed? Relevant. That wouldn't be true of someone I just met. If you're tall[er than me] I'm probably noticing it and don't have other ways to differentiate you from other strangers.)

Luckily, I don't usually have to resort to epithets in writing, because readers can generally follow pronouns and support way more proper name uses than you might expect! Pronouns by definition are placeholders for proper names. Where writing gets confusing is when it feels like the pronouns are floating free and unmatched. Reconnecting the proper noun and the pronoun is all you need to reset.

Within a paragraph, use a proper noun enough to be clear. Vague, I know, but it really is an art instead of a science and largely comes down to personal taste. Refining your personal taste can help a ton, and one way to do that is to look at works by people who you feel write these kinds of scenes clearly and cogently. I'm going to use my own writing as an example, just to make it easy for myself.

Structuring your writing so the subject is fairly consistent will help a ton, as will "checking in" with a proper noun when it feels like you've checked in on the other person more recently.

[alt: The muscles in Bruce’s face, Jason realized, were good at going completely still when surprised. That was useful. He had said intervened like Jason had done it on purpose, throwing himself into this nightmare to save Bruce instead of acting like a petulant, stomping child. He had just a moment to wonder if the look from Bruce was meant as gratitude or as an apology when Bruce turned his attention back to the others. “It should reverse in a few days.”]

In the snippet above, because I'm moving tightly between two he/him characters, I use their names just enough to stick into place who's being reference at any given point. If I had wanted to be extra careful, I could have changed "He had just a moment to wonder" to "Jason had just a moment to wonder."

Over multiple paragraphs, when you're sticking with one person, reconnecting (or what I mentally refer to as "checking in") can happen once a paragraph and really shouldn't be needed more than that.

[alt: He really didn’t have much of note to say. Dick narrated his way through the canned goods and the dry goods, making jokes about Wally’s Skittles stash and the cans of Spaghetti-Os Roy demanded be kept on hand but no one else ever touched. He talked about a TV show he had been watching and made a joke that elicited a hrmm from Bruce that would have been a laugh from anyone else. And the more he talked, the more he remembered little stories from his week that he had tucked away with a mental note to tell Bruce.

At last, though, Dick had finished his final story and let the call lapse into a pause that stretched into silence. He bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with the rolls of gauze, stacking them into pyramids outside the gutted medical kit. He could never tell with Bruce whether the silences were contented or an interrogation technique, the patience of an investigator applying pressure to a reluctant witness. In the end, it didn’t much matter.]

But really, truly, the TL;DR of it all is you don't need as many epithets as you think; as long as you don't go crazy with your subject and object switches and check in on your connections regularly, you can lean on pronouns way more than you think; and readers can handle way more uses of names than you might suspect.

Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets

[slxtarchive]

𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐍 ꩜ 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you and your best friend billie had your monthly sleepover consisting of a movie night and slurpees… she might’ve slurped sum else too.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. no but inspired by a request i got for madz

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. SMUT ! oral f!receiving, fingering, scissoring, talks of finding yourself kinda, confusing and conflicting feels, basically relatable content [ especially for me ] a little deep on this one.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. the synopsis i cannot — anyway, this was inspired by a madz request i got! tried making a divider, i got the inspiration from pinterest

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 3.6k.

“so i’m thinking like three different chips, maybe two candies and… slurpees?” billie smiled excitedly. “we have to go all out since we didn’t have a sleepover last month!! c’mon, ill pay.” she moved forward super close to you practically touching your nose.

you rolled your eyes moving forward as your foreheads touched narrowing your eyes. “okay.” you said, quietly laughing with a grin on your face.

you and billie have always been super close. you spent practically every day together and if it weren’t for your parents you’d have a sleepover every week.

most people at school thought you two were a bit too close but you both never gave your friendship a second thought, well, you didn’t give your friendship a second thought. billie though, growing up she found herself thinking about you as more than just a friend but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind with fear of messing with your friendship — which she would never put in jeopardy.

you grabbed your snacks and slushees deciding which ones to get. billie insisted you picked them all out before you headed back to her house.

this time you both were in the living room because her parents were out of town. so, you both set it up a little more dramatically than you usually would in her room. you brought the couch cushions together to make a makeshift bed with a bunch of fluffy blankets. then, billie brought out a bowl and platter for your chips and a spot to set down your slushees.

after a few minutes of setting everything up, you finally sat down and began to decide on a movie. “what are we feeling?” she questioned, scrolling through netflix.

you looked at the rows of movies showing up on the screen before something caught your eye. “fear street…” you read. “it’s horror, and — oo it’s a trilogy! fear street 1994, 1978, and 1666.” you looked toward her excitedly.

she pressed her lips together trying to stifle a laugh. “so i’m guessing your choice is that one?" she hovered over the movie.

you nodded, "yeah we can watch all three. movie marathon!" you sang out.

she obliged putting on the first movie of the trilogy. throughout the movie it was good, you both commented on how crazy the storyline was and how cute the main characters were until one particular scene came about.

you sat on the couch legs crisscrossed practically mesmerized by the scene before you. you became overly aware of billie’s shoulder next to yours, the room heating up around you.

the scene was short but it still clouded your mind for the rest of the movie — your thoughts running a mile a minute.

by the time the second movie was wrapping up, you felt the energy in the room shift. the air felt charged somehow — heavy — with something unspoken.

the third movie started, bringing its scene to the start of the storyline all the way back in 1666. two girls who both had a secret attraction to each other but couldn’t act on it because of the views of their village.

you felt for the girls, in a way that you didn’t know you could feel. the scenes continued and as more scenes passed — the more the story made sense. every scene was important but there was one particular scene that stuck with you even more.

your fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket that covered your and billie’s legs as the scene unfolded. the two girls had gone out into the empty woods together after a fight had broken out. you didn’t pay much attention to the dialogue of the interaction — you paid more to the energy shift between them.

you eyes were fixed on the screen as the two girls, deena and sam, shared an emotional and deeply tender moment.

your breathing hitched and your chest tightened, a strange warmth spreading through you that you couldn’t explain. you had seen many romantic scenes before — but this one felt… different. it felt so real. it felt like something you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

what pulled your eyes away from the screen was when you moved your gaze over to billie, whose face was lit by the glow of the tv screen. her expression was unreadable, her lips slightly parted, her focus locked on the screen. you quickly turned your head back moving your eyes away from her, your cheeks flushed.

by the time the movie ended, you couldn’t sit still. your mind was racing and your body was tense. the silence between you both was deafening, interrupted by the ending credits song starting.

billie finally broke the quiet. “that was so good! holy shit.” she smiled, before looking at you.

you cleared your throat a bit trying to shake the thoughts from your brain. “yeah.” you whispered, your voice not sounding too convincing.

billie noticed the shift in your energy quicker than anything. she moved her posture to face you before speaking up. “you okay? you’ve been quiet since—” she stopped herself, before softening her gaze. “since that scene.”

you stiffened, your fingers twisting the blanket with anxiousness. “i’m fine.”

she tilted her head, unconvinced. “yn.” she knew you better than anyone in the world including your parents and yourself.

you sighed, knowing exactly what she was thinking. your chest rose and fell unevenly. “it’s stupid.” you mumbled, bringing your knees up to your chest.

“it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you yn.” billie’s eyebrows furrowed.

you hesitated, your throat feeling dry. “it’s just… that scene. it made me feel… weird? i… don’t know why. it’s like… it hit me in a way i wasn’t expecting, and now i can’t stop thinking about it.”

billie stayed quiet in response to your confession. her eyes scanned your face searching for some kind of telling.

you noticed the longing stare she gave you. “it’s not just the scene…” you whispered, your heart twisting and churning. “it’s you..” you confessed in realization. “sitting here with you i—” you stopped yourself, not wanting to say things you might not know the truth of.

you shook your head trying to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. you swallowed harshly, “i don’t know what’s happening to me, bils.” you admitted.

billie’s heart pounded as the air surrounding her became thick. she found the courage to reach her hand out toward you, brushing your hand. “you’re not alone.” she said softly.

you looked up, your eyes searching hers. “what do you mean?”

billie took in a shaky deep breath. “i… i felt it too — during that scene.” she bit her lip nervously. “and i have felt it before, with you.” she looked you into your eyes.

your heart practically stopped right then and there. you wanted to speak but you felt like all the words you thought of and wanted to say, that they couldn’t make their way out of your mouth.

billie spoke up, noticing the trouble you had been having. “i would’ve said something but i’ve just been too scared to say anything because i don’t know if you’d… if you’d feel the same.”

your breathing hitched, your pulse roared in your ears. “you’ve felt… felt it?”

billie nodded avoiding eye contact with you, “yeah. and it’s confusing and scary, and it feels like my chest is about to explode every time i try n think about it. but…” she stuttered her hand running through her hair, “but it also feels good. like it just — just makes sense.” she finally looked up to look into your eyes.

the space between you both felt smaller now, the air filling with tension. your gaze flicked to billie’s lips, then back to her eyes. “i don’t know what to do with this feeling…” you whispered with a conflicting feeling.

her hand moved to cup your cheek, her thumb softly brushing against it — the touch sending electricity through your veins. “we don’t have to know. not right now, okay? we can just… feel.”

you leaned into her touch instinctively, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it. slowly, billie found her forehead pressing against yours, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

the moment hung there, suspended, until you tilted your head, your lips brushing against hers. the kiss was soft, tentative, their movements slow as you both felt your way through this unfamiliar territory.

billie’s hand slid to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling their way through your hair. your hand gripped the blanket over them before hesitantly moving to rest on her waist, pulling her closer.

you felt the kiss deepen, not rushed but full of quiet intensity, a mixture of nervousness and something unspoken that somehow had always been there, waiting to rise up to the surface.

when you both pulled away, you stayed close to each other — your noses brushing together and breaths shaky.

“is this okay?” billie whispered up against your lips.

you nodded, your fingers brushing against her side. “yeah, it’s… it’s more than okay.” you licked your bottom lip moving closer.

she nodded, building up the courage to kiss you once more but stood there admiring the way you looked angelic in the tv glow.

your eyes moved all over her face before you made the move to kiss her. your lips molded with each other softly and passionately with more need this time.

you liked it. the feeling of her lips on yours. your skin touching hers. it felt so good — so right. you could taste the faint flavor of cherry from the slurpee on her tongue as the kiss became more hungry. she slipped her tongue into your mouth again before she pushed you onto your back. she then straddled you still never letting your lips disconnect.

you felt hot and needy in between your legs and felt the same thing between hers. the small gasps that came from your mouth showed billie that you enjoyed what was happening but she still wanted to your thoughts on what she wanted to do next.

her hands moved from your face all the way down to your chest then your lower stomach. “we’re just feeling right?” she gulped, out of breath.

you didn’t register what she meant but responded with a slow nod. “mmm — yeah? yeah… we are.”

she took another deep slow breath before moving down your lap and moving her hands to the waistband of your shorts. “and if you like… what i’m doing — i could keep going. if you don’t, i could stop.” you still didn’t get what was going on until she trailed her fingers inside a bit, beneath your underwear as well.

you took a deep breath leaning back on your elbows trying to calm down. your mind immediately went to the movie scene, the way you felt — the way it made your body feel. you felt needy for that in the moment. the way you felt all uncomfortable but a good uncomfortable, as if there was an itch you wanted to scratch. that’s exactly how you felt right now with billie making a move toward that kind of thing.

just to be sure you wanted to ask. “stop… stop what exactly?” you questioned, still looking down at her.

she smiled softly before tugging down your shorts a bit. “just… stop me from tasting you.” she still pulled down your shorts slowly looking up at you waiting for your response.

the only response you had, had to do with your body. the fact that you nodded while wanting to clench your thighs and soothe that feeling down there showed you that this is what you wanted. your only worry would be that this would change everything, something you didn’t want to happen but at this point — you couldn’t stop yourself.

she pulled your shorts down before taking them fully off leaving you in your underwear. she noticed the damp spot in between your legs. “you’re sure?” she asked, her tongue touching her lower lip.

your chest moved up and down as you tried to build the courage. you let out a breath, “yeah, i’m… i’m sure.”

she nodded before moving to take off your underwear. she tugged them down the same she did with the shorts and tossed them to the side giving you a full view of your pussy. you felt exposed and quite nervous so you closed your thighs. she giggled shortly, bringing her hands up to keep them from closing. “it’s okay..” she whispered through the low light.

she moved your legs away from each other so she could see you again and moved her head down. your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest when you felt her give one lick. your body reacted instantly as your back arched slightly and your breathing stopped abruptly. she looked up at you before taking another lick — the eye contact doing something insane to you.

she slowly got more comfortable with it starting to suck softly on your clit. your hand found its way to her hair tugging on it and trying to pull her closer. “fuck—” you moaned as her tongue dipped into your entrance then brought your slick up to your clit.

she sucked and moved her tongue around picking up her pace before speaking up. “tell me if… if it feels good. tell me what feels good. wanna make you feel good.” she blabbered taking your clit again into your mouth and sucking on it harshly.

“that — that feels really fucking good. i’m… oh fuck bils.” you moved the hair out of her face again to see her actions on your clit. “yeah, jus’ like that…” you moaned throwing your head back.

she nodded against your pussy harshly pushing her tongue on you. the mix of her saliva and your arousal adding to the squelching wet sounds.

she brought her fingers up to slowly inch inside you providing more feeling and pleasure. she hummed against your clit as her fingers thrust inside of you. you couldn’t help but move your hips up to meet her tongue, practically trying to ride her. your eyes clenched shut, “fuck billie… i feel so — oh fuck..” you couldn’t get your words out.

billie felt you getting closer and closer wanting to bring you to that state of ecstasy. she licked, sucked, and slurped everything up before letting it fall onto your clit and doing it all over again until you came undone on her tongue.

you tried to catch your breath as billie brought her face away from you and up to face you, her hand wiping your slick from her chin. she licked her lips, “so… did you— did you like that?” she asked, shy and nervous.

your eyes were filled with lust as you responded. “mhm — i… i loved it.” you nodded before getting on your knees in front of her and taking her hands in yours. “let me make you feel good too?” you looked at her lips before leaning forward and capturing them in a kiss.

she whimpered against your lips as she felt your hands touch her waist. billie couldn’t wait for you to take off her clothes so she did it for you, removing both her shorts and underwear leaving you both bottomless. “i… can we try something?”

you were practically hypnotized by her so you nodded eager to hear what she had to say.

she sat back against the couch armrest with her legs wide open. she touched herself a little bringing the arousal from her entrance to her clit. “want you to… rub yourself on me, please.” you gulped, trying to figure out how exactly she wanted you to do it. “you just—” she started sitting up and pulling you closer. “put this leg over mine and rub yourself onto me.” she tapped your right leg. “do you want me to show you first?”

you nodded pressing your lips together not wanting to do anything wrong. she obliged your request pushing you back onto you laying flat on the couch. your head wasn’t elevated or anything so it was hard to see what she was doing but you felt her lift your right leg up and push it back against your chest, then she made her way on top of you. before you knew it, she placed her own pussy on yours.

she fixed herself so she was right on top of you then started moving slowly. your mouth fell open at this new sensation. you looked up to find billie already staring at you. “how does it feel?”

you poked your tongue. “it feels really good.” your head moved back as your eyes fluttered shut. you felt so hot and sweaty, you wondered if it’d be okay to take off your shirt. you felt your adrenaline take over so you decided to do it anyway. you took it off and tossed it off the couch before unclasping your bra and doing the same with it as well leaving you topless.

billie’s moved her hips faster and harsher upon seeing you feel more comfortable with her. she decided to avoid making you feel alone she took off her own shirt and bra leaving her in her bare skin. your hands rested on her hips trying to push her to move faster. “please, faster bils. feels so good..” you whined softly.

billie nodded. “c’mon, you try.” she said lying down on her back. you felt that feeling of edge simmer so you hurriedly tried to move your legs mirroring what billie was doing. you looked at her for reassurance as you moved your legs over hers. “yeah, that’s good.” she nodded.

you brought yourself down pushing over her trying to find that specific spot that made your legs feel like jelly. you looked at billie trying to read her expression as a way to help you that you found her sweet spot too. she bit her lip moving her hair away from her face. she hummed with pleasure as you moved your pussy over a particular spot.

you smiled lightly, trying to repeat that action over that same spot. “yeah yn, just like that, please.” she moaned resting her hands on your hips. “such a pretty girl.” she purred, her face contorting as you grinded over her own pussy. the wetness in between making the smallest noises. that feeling you felt earlier was coming back almost becoming too much.

your hand rested over her leg that was off to the side and resting against the side of her chest. you moved with passionate eyes on that amazing feeling that was coursing up through you. “oh shit bils… i’m — i’m gonna cum.” you cried out, the pleasure blinding you.

she moved her head to the side clenching the couch. “me too yn… fuck — keep moving like that, please. jus like that.”

desperate spurts of moans escaped your throat as you kept your hips moving faster and harsher. you were right there you just needed a little push.

you looked down at billie to see her eyes fluttered closed with her lip between her teeth. that look on her face, the fact that it was you that was making her feel this good brought you right where you needed. you felt that feeling spread from your pussy throughout your whole body. “shit— i’m cumming!” you cried out.

billie only responded with a low guttural moan, grabbing onto your thighs as she came undone beneath you as well. her thighs shook as she cried out head thrown back against the couch with a blinding wave of pleasure crashing through her.

after the minute of whimpers and whines had passed, you had collapsed on top of billie, breathless and exhausted.

you didn’t know what to say. you both were a bit quiet for a moment before billie spoke up, breaking the silence. “this changes things, right?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

you nodded slowly, “yeah.” swallowing harshly you continued. “but i don’t think it’s a bad thing.” you admitted, mostly to yourself.

billie nodded, “it’s not.” her quiet voice was so soft. “it just feels different.” her thumb rubbing circles over your skin.

you agreed, your nerves still swarming inside you but billie was able to calm you down. “yeah, it is different.” you moved the blanket so that it covered you both, your naked skin in contact with hers.

billie shifted slightly still feeling unsettled. her movement was slow like she didn’t want to freak you out or startle you. she reached for your hand lacing them together, “are you okay?”

you hesitated, your eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. “i think so… it’s just a lot. i didn’t expect this y’know? i mean, i’ve always felt close to you but this — it’s new and kinda scary.”

billie gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “it’s scary for me too.” she admitted. “but that’s okay because we don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

you looked up and made eye contact with her finally seeing her face in full. “you make it sound so easy.” you whispered, feeling her so close.

she chuckled cuddling closer to you. “its not simple but if we have each other and we promise to always be there and be honest with each other, we’ll be okay.” her hand rested on your cheek.

you nodded leaning into her soft touch. “one step at a time.” you stated.

billie smiled. “exactly, so first step, how about we finish these snacks and instead make this a date? another movie?”

you looked in between her eyes before nodding. “i’d definitely like that.” you spoke softly. in response, she leaned down and pecked your lips softly.

© 𝐬𝐥𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞

[elryuse]

불장난 Playing With Fire

Yuna X Male Reader

Tags : Ex Girlfriend Yuna, Teasing, Kissing, Pretty Toxic And Slightly Weird Romance, Fluff, Pregnant? Marriage?

Words : 8,557 Words

You always thought the first time you met Yuna would be burned into your memory forever. The sparkle in her eyes, the way her laugh could fill a room, and how effortlessly she made you feel like the only person in the world. That was before. Before the lies, the heartbreak, and the shattered trust. Now, every memory of her feels distant, like a faded photograph buried in the back of your mind. You’ve tried to move on, to live your life without the weight of her betrayal pressing down on your chest.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

It’s an ordinary evening when you see her again. The streets are busy with the hum of traffic, and the golden glow of the setting sun reflects off car windows. You’re standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change, when you catch a flash of fiery red out of the corner of your eye. You glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

It’s her. Yuna.

Only, it’s not the Yuna you remember. Gone is the soft brown hair that used to fall in gentle waves down her shoulders. Now, her hair is a striking, fiery red, cut shorter, framing her face with an edge that screams confidence. Her figure, once curvier, is now more toned and petite, as if she’s carved herself into something entirely new. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a simple black dress, and her boots click sharply against the pavement as she crosses the street.

Your instinct is to look away, to pretend you didn’t see her. After everything that happened, the last thing you want is to reopen old wounds. But then, her eyes meet yours, and you know it’s too late.

“...Y/n?” she says, her voice softer than you expect.

You hesitate, debating whether to respond. “Yuna,” you finally say, your tone neutral, guarded.

Her lips curve into a small smile, but there’s something behind it—something you can’t quite place. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” she says, stepping closer.

You take a step back without meaning to, creating just enough distance to feel like you’re still in control. “It’s a big city,” you reply. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

She tilts her head, studying you like you’re some puzzle she can’t quite figure out. “You look good,” she says, her eyes scanning you briefly. “Different, but… good.”

You resist the urge to scoff. “Thanks,” you say curtly. “You, too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She grins, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, the hair’s new. And I’ve been working out more. Needed a fresh start, you know?”

You nod, though you don’t really know what to say to that. The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. You take a step toward the crosswalk, hoping she’ll take the hint and let you go.

“Y/n, wait,” she says, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. The contact sends a jolt through you, and you pull back instinctively. Her smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say firmly. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Come on,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “It’s been, what, a year? Can’t we just… I don’t know, catch up? As friends?”

Friends. The word feels bitter on your tongue. You shake your head. “We were never just friends, Yuna. You know that.”

Her expression softens, and for a moment, she looks like the Yuna you used to know—the one who could make you smile no matter how bad your day had been. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “For everything. I know I screwed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

You feel your chest tighten, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “You don’t get to say that,” you say, your voice low but firm. “You don’t get to miss us when you were the one who destroyed it.”

She flinches, and for a brief moment, you think you see tears glistening in her eyes. But then she straightens, her fiery hair catching the last rays of sunlight. “You’re right,” she says, her voice steadier now. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’ve changed, Y/n. I’m not the same person I was back then.”

You want to believe her. A part of you—some small, foolish part—still wants to believe that the girl you fell in love with is still in there somewhere. But you can’t forget the pain she caused, the way she broke your heart and left you to pick up the pieces on your own.

“I’m glad you’ve changed,” you say finally. “But that doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t mean we can go back to the way things were.”

She nods slowly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I get it,” she says. “I just… I just wanted to see you. To tell you I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Finally, you sigh and take a step back. “Take care of yourself, Yuna.”

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there on the sidewalk. As you disappear into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time you’ll see her.

And deep down, you’re not sure if that thought scares you—or excites you.

The knock on your door is sudden, sharp, and entirely unexpected. You freeze mid-sip of your morning coffee, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of your apartment like a knife. Three rapid raps, followed by silence. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall—it’s barely 8 AM. Who the hell could that be?

Setting your mug down cautiously, you make your way to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. And there she is: Yuna.

Your ex-girlfriend. The woman who shattered your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces years ago. She stands there, radiant as ever, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, her lips curved into that familiar smirk that used to make your stomach flip. Now, all it does is twist into knots.

“Hey,” she says casually, as if it’s totally normal for her to show up at your doorstep after all this time. “Long time no see.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Of all the people you thought might show up unannounced at your door this early in the morning, Yuna was not on the list. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice more curt than you intended.

She shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe like she owns the place. “I live next door now. Figured I’d come say hi.” Her tone is light, almost playful, but there’s something in her eyes—something burning, intense, calculated. It makes your skin prickle.

“You live… next door?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. This has to be some kind of joke. Or a nightmare. Either way, you don’t like it.

“Mhm,” she hums, nodding. She steps past you into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, her floral perfume lingering in the air as she moves. It’s the same scent she always wore when you were together, and it hits you like a punch to the gut. “Saw your name on the mailbox the other day. Small world, huh?”

“Small world, my ass,” you mutter under your breath, closing the door behind her reluctantly. “This isn’t a coincidence, Yuna. What are you really doing here?”

She turns to face you, her expression softening as she takes a step closer. “I told you. I’m your neighbor now. And… maybe I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between the two of you. “Yeah, actually. It is. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since—” You cut yourself off, the memory of what she did still raw, even after all this time.

Her smile falters, and for a moment, she looks genuinely remorseful. “I know, Y/n. I know I hurt you. I was stupid, selfish, and I regretted it the second it happened. You have no idea how much I’ve beat myself up over it.”

“Not enough, apparently,” you snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “If you had any respect for me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She flinches at that, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. But then she squares her shoulders and meets your gaze head-on. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I know you probably hate me, and maybe you should, but… I needed to try. To see if there’s any chance we could start over.”

You stare at her, your mind racing. Start over? After everything? She can’t possibly be serious. And yet, the look in her eyes tells you she is. Dead serious.

“Yuna,” you say slowly, picking your words carefully. “We’re not the same people we were back then. And even if we were, what you did… that’s not something you just ‘start over’ from.”

She nods, swallowing hard. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. But… can we at least try to be civil? As neighbors? Maybe even… friends?”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. Friends. Yeah, right. Friends don’t do what she did. Friends don’t destroy trust the way she did. And yet, looking at her now, with her wide, pleading eyes and perfectly pouty lips, it’s hard to stay mad. Harder than you want to admit.

“I don’t know, Yuna,” you say finally, sighing. “This is… a lot.”

“I get it,” she says quickly. “And I’ll give you all the space you need. But just… promise me you’ll think about it, okay? Think about us.”

Before you can respond, she steps forward, closing the distance between you. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you—and part of you wants her to, despite everything. But instead, she simply brushes her fingers lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then she’s gone, slipping out the door as quickly as she came, leaving you standing there, confused, annoyed, and—damn it—curious.

Over the next few days, Yuna becomes impossible to ignore. Every time you leave your apartment, she’s there, whether it’s in the hallway, by the elevator, or even at the gym. She’s always polite, always friendly, but there’s an underlying tension that neither of you acknowledges. A tension that grows thicker with each passing day.

Tonight, though, she crosses a line.

You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she knocks on your door again, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a coy smile on her face. “Hi,” she says sweetly. “Thought you might want some company tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding the spatula in your hand like a weapon. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” she replies, pushing past you into the kitchen. “Smells amazing, by the way. What are we having?”

“Steak,” you say automatically before catching yourself. “Wait, no. I’m having steak. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

She grins, setting the wine bottle on the counter and grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer like she belongs here. “Oh, come on. You can’t eat all that by yourself. Besides, we need to talk.”

“About what?” you ask warily, watching as she expertly uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses.

She hands you one, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels far too intentional. “About us. About… what happens next.”

You take a sip of the wine, mostly to buy yourself time to think. “There is no ‘us,’ Yuna. Not anymore.”

She leans against the counter, her body language relaxed but her eyes intense. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always been an ‘us.’ Even when we weren’t together, even when I screwed everything up… there was always something between us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words stick in your throat because… god damn it, she’s right. There is something between you. Something electric, magnetic, undeniable. And it’s been there from the moment she showed up at your door.

But you can’t let her know that. Not yet.

Instead, you set your wine glass down and turn back to the stove, flipping the steak with more force than necessary. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Yuna.”

She laughs softly, the sound low and sultry. “Maybe. But you’ve always liked danger, remember?”

Your grip tightens on the spatula. Remember? How could you forget? She’s reminding you on purpose, and it’s working. Memories flood your mind—her hands on your skin, her lips on yours, the way she used to whisper your name in the dark.

“Dinner’s ready,” you say abruptly, plating the steak and handing her a plate. If nothing else, maybe eating will shut her up.

But as the two of you sit down at the table, the tension only grows thicker. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh sends sparks flying. By the time you finish eating, the air between you is charged, crackling with unspoken desire.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yuna says, standing up and moving closer to you. “It was… delicious.”

She’s not talking about the food, and you both know it.

You stand too, your heart pounding in your chest as she reaches out, her fingertips grazing your jawline. “Yuna,” you warn, your voice husky.

“Yes?” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to yours.

“Don’t—”

But before you can finish, she closes the gap, her mouth crashing into yours like a tidal wave.

And just like that, you’re lost.

Her lips are warm, insistent, and achingly familiar. The moment she kisses you, a flood of memories rushes back—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises, the way her body fit perfectly against yours. But this isn’t that time. This is now, and despite everything, your body betrays you. Your hands instinctively move to her waist, pulling her closer as if they have a mind of their own.

Yuna deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A soft moan escapes her throat, muffled by the heat of your mouths colliding. Her fingers weave through your hair, tugging gently but firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her breath hot and uneven, “I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a confession, raw and unfiltered. You want to push her away, to remind yourself of why you shouldn’t be doing this, but her touch is magnetic, her presence intoxicating. Your resolve wavers, crumbling under the weight of her longing.

Her hands slide down your chest, fingertips tracing the contours of your muscles through your shirt. They pause at the hem, slipping beneath the fabric, skin meeting skin for the first time in what feels like forever. Her touch ignites something deep within you, a hunger you thought you’d buried long ago.

“Yuna,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire, “this isn’t—”

She silences you with another kiss, harder this time, more desperate. Her nails dig lightly into your sides, leaving tingling trails in their wake. When she finally breaks away, her eyes lock onto yours, blazing with something you can’t quite place—need, remorse, or maybe both. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” she breathes, her voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can respond, she sinks to her knees, her hands moving to the button of your jeans. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound deafening in the quiet room. This is wrong, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers, but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the way her fingers work deftly to free you from the confines of your clothing.

Her breath hitches as she takes you in, her gaze lingering for a moment before she leans forward, her lips brushing against the tip of you. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your hips jerking involuntarily. She smirks up at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Still sensitive, huh?” she teases, her voice low and husky.

You don’t have time to respond before she takes you fully into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your length with practiced ease. A groan escapes your lips, your hands tangling in her hair as she moves with a rhythm that leaves you dizzy. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, barely audible over the sound of her sucking you deeper, harder.

She pulls back momentarily, looking up at you through hooded lids. “Do you remember how much you used to love this?” she asks, her voice dripping with sultry anticipation. Before you can answer, she’s swallowing you again, her lips pressing tightly around you as she works her way down your shaft.

Your knees buckle slightly, the sensation overwhelming. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she bobs her head, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The wet sounds fill the room, mingling with her soft sighs and your ragged breaths. It’s messy, desperate, and utterly consuming.

As her pace quickens, so does the ache building in your core. You’re close, too close, and the realization makes your grip on her hair tighten. “Yuna, I—”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Instead, she hums around you, the vibrations making your entire body shudder. Her eyes meet yours again, and there’s a challenge in them, daring you to let go. And you do, unable to hold back any longer.

With a strangled groan, you release, her name tumbling from your lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. She takes it all, her tongue lapping at you greedily until you’re completely spent, your legs trembling beneath you.

When she finally pulls away, there’s a hint of mischief in her smile, along with something softer, more vulnerable. She stands slowly, her hands resting lightly on your hips as she looks up at you. “You always did taste so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind reeling from what just happened. There’s a part of you that wants to pull her into your arms, to feel her warmth against you. But there’s also a part that feels conflicted, torn between the past and the present, between what you feel and what you know you should do.

Yuna seems to sense your hesitation. She steps closer, her body pressing against yours, her lips brushing against your neck. “I meant what I said,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ve missed you. More than you could ever know.”

You swallow hard, your hands hovering at her sides, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Yuna".

She leans back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes searching yours. “Don’t think too much about it,” she says softly. “Just… let me make you feel good. Like I used to.”

Her hands slide up your chest, pushing your shirt off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as she traces the lines of your body. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” she admits, her voice filled with awe.

Before you can respond, she’s leading you toward the couch, her movements confident yet tender. She pushes you down gently, then straddles your lap, her thighs squeezing your hips as she leans in to kiss you again. Her lips are softer this time, more deliberate, as if she’s savoring every second.

You find your hands moving without conscious thought, gripping her waist, sliding up her back, exploring every inch of her. She lets out a soft sigh, arching into your touch, her body molding against yours like it was made to fit there.

“Tell me you want this,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with need. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. But when her hand slips between your bodies, her fingers brushing against the growing heat between her legs, your resolve crumbles completely.

You can’t find the words to respond. Not when her body is pressed so tightly against yours, not when her hand is moving with such purpose, igniting a fire deep within you that you swore had been extinguished long ago. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping her hips as if holding onto them will keep you from losing yourself completely.

Yuna doesn’t wait for an answer. She doesn’t need one. The way your body responds to her touch—the way you instinctively pull her closer—tells her everything she needs to know. Her lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that make your head spin. Each kiss is deliberate, each move calculated to unravel you further.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. You gasp, your grip tightening on her as she lets out a soft laugh against your collarbone. There it is, you think. That sound. That laugh. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it, but it still hits you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Stop thinking,” Yuna murmurs, her voice low and husky. “Just feel.”

It’s easier said than done. Your mind is racing, torn between the past and the present, between anger and desire. But then her hand slips lower, her fingers wrapping around you, and all thoughts evaporate into nothingness. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Yuna smirks against your skin, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s more like it,” she says, her breath hot against your ear. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

Before you can respond, she’s sinking to her knees in front of you, her hands working quickly to free you from the confines of your clothes. You barely have time to process what’s happening before her mouth is on you, warm and wet and impossible to resist. Your head falls back, a strangled groan escaping your throat as her tongue swirls around you, teasing and taunting in equal measure.

God, you’ve missed this. Missed her. The way she knows exactly how to drive you wild, the way she takes you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but raw, unfiltered sensation. Her mouth moves expertly, drawing you deeper, her hand working in tandem to heighten every touch. You can feel the pressure building, threatening to consume you, and you force yourself to hold back, not wanting this to end too soon.

But Yuna isn’t having it. She pulls away just enough to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Let go,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “I want to hear you.”

And then she’s taking you in again, her movements faster, more urgent. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, but it’s no use. You’re powerless against her, against the way she makes you feel. Your hips buck involuntarily, and Yuna makes a soft noise of approval, encouraging you to keep going.

The tension coils tighter and tighter until you can’t take it anymore. With a cry, you come undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Yuna doesn’t pull away, not even when you’re spent and trembling, your legs barely able to support you. Instead, she stays where she is, her lips pressing gently against your skin as if savoring the moment.

When she finally stands, there’s a look of pure satisfaction on her face. “Welcome back,” she says softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though your mind is still reeling. “You haven’t lost anything,” you admit, your voice hoarse. “If anything, you’ve gotten better.”

Yuna grins, clearly pleased with your admission. “Practice makes perfect,” she teases, stepping closer to press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on her, and it only serves to deepen the ache inside you, the need for more.

She pulls away slowly, her hands trailing down your chest as she steps back. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, her voice dripping with promise. “Don’t worry—I’ll guide you.”

You’re about to ask what she means when she turns and walks toward your bedroom, her hips swaying with every step. The sight alone is enough to make your pulse quicken, and you follow after her without hesitation, your earlier reservations forgotten.

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Yuna stops at the foot of the bed, turning to face you with a look that sends a shiver down your spine. Slowly, she begins to undress, each movement deliberate, each inch of skin revealed making your mouth go dry.

When she’s fully naked, she reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Touch me,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Show me you remember how.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for her, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She sighs, leaning into your touch as you explore the curves and valleys of her body, rediscovering every part of her that once felt like home. Her breath hitches when your fingers brush over her nipples, and she arches into your touch, silently urging you to continue.

You lower your head, capturing one taut peak between your lips, and she gasps, her hands tangling in your hair. Her scent surrounds you, heady and intoxicating, and you’re desperate for more. Your tongue flicks against her, eliciting another sharp intake of breath, and you can feel her pulse quickening beneath your fingertips.

“Y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please…”

You know what she wants. What she needs. And you’re more than willing to give it to her.

As if on cue, the opening notes of your favorite song drift through the speakers in the corner of the room. The melody is soft and slow, filling the space with a quiet intimacy that makes the moment feel even more significant somehow. Yuna’s eyes meet yours, and there’s something in her gaze—something tender and vulnerable—that catches you off guard.

“This song,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “It reminds me of us. Of who we used to be.”

Used to be. The words echo in your mind, stirring memories you’d tried so hard to forget. Late-night drives, stolen kisses, whispered promises of forever. All of it comes rushing back, overwhelming you with emotions you thought you’d buried long ago.

Yuna seems to sense the shift in your mood because she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re not those people anymore,” she admits, her voice heavy with regret. “But maybe… maybe we can be something better.”

You don’t respond—you can’t. Not when your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. But then she’s guiding you toward the bed, her touch firm yet gentle, and all you can do is follow.

The sheets are cool against your skin as you lie down, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heat. Yuna’s lips find yours again, her kiss slow and languid, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

Yuna’s fingers trail down your chest, her touch light but deliberate, sending shivers through your body. She pauses at the hem of her shirt, her gaze locking with yours as if silently asking for permission. You nod, barely able to form a coherent thought, and she pulls the fabric over her head, revealing herself to you in the soft glow of the bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire.

She smiles, a gentle curve of her lips that makes your heart ache. “Touch me,” she whispers, guiding your hands to her waist. Her skin is warm beneath your palms, smooth and inviting, and you feel the faint tremor of her breath as you slide your hands upward.

Her breasts fit perfectly in your hands, soft yet firm, and you thumb over her nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. She arches into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she opens them again, their intensity burning into you.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her voice trembling with need.

You don’t. You can’t. Every part of you is drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and you lose yourself in the sensation of her skin against yours. Your fingers trace the curves of her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverent touch, as if committing her to memory all over again.

Her hands move to the waistband of your pants, her fingers deftly unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. The cool air brushes against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from her body. She straddles you, her thighs pressing against your hips, and you can feel the wetness between her legs as she grinds against you.

“God, I missed this,” she moans, her head tipping back as she rocks her hips against yours. “I missed you.”

You grip her hips, guiding her movements as your own arousal builds. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she loses herself in the rhythm. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin just enough to leave marks, and the sting only adds to the fire coursing through your veins.

“Yuna,” you groan, your voice rough with desperation. “I need you.”

She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then take me,” she murmurs against your mouth. “Take me like you used to.”

Her words ignite something primal within you, and you flip her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, quickly replaced by a low moan as you press yourself against her, your length teasing her entrance.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice strained with restraint.

She nods, her eyes dark with desire. “Please,” she begs, her hips lifting to meet yours. “I need you inside me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. With a slow, steady thrust, you enter her, both of you groaning in unison at the sensation. She’s tight, her walls clenching around you as if trying to pull you deeper, and you savor the feeling of being inside her once again.

Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you begin to move. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to draw out the pleasure for both of you. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as she gasps your name, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

“Faster,” she urges, her nails scraping down your back. “Harder.”

You oblige, increasing your pace as her pleas grow more desperate. Her hips buck against yours, meeting each thrust with equal fervor, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her body tightening around you as she teeters on the edge of release.

“Y/N… Y/N, I’m close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as she clings to you. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

You bury your face in the crook of her neck, your lips brushing against her skin as you whisper, “Let go, Yuna. I’ve got you.”

Her climax hits her hard, her body convulsing around you as she cries out your name. The sensation sends you over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, you spill yourself inside her, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crash over you.

For several moments, neither of you moves, content to simply bask in the afterglow. Her fingers stroke your back, her touch tender and soothing, and you press a soft kiss to her shoulder before finally pulling away.

She looks up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you reply, your hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How could I forget?”

She smiles, though there’s a sadness in her expression that makes your chest tighten. “I wish things were different,” she says softly. “I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”

“We can’t change the past,” you tell her, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “But maybe… maybe we can start over.”

Her eyes widen, hope flickering in their depths. “Do you mean that?”

Before you can answer, she kisses you again, her lips pouring everything she can’t say into the gesture. And as you kiss her back, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance you’ve both been waiting

The kiss deepens, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she's afraid to let you go. You can feel her trembling beneath you, a mix of hope, longing, and fear coursing through her. When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

"I mean it," you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "But if we're going to start over, things have to be different, Yuna. No secrets, no lies. We need to be honest with each other-completely."

She nods quickly, her eyes searching yours as if trying to commit every detail to memory. "I promise," she whispers. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, Y/n. I've lost you once, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Her words tug at something deep inside you, a flicker of the love you once shared beginning to reignite. But there's still a part of you that's wary, a part that remembers the pain of betrayal and the sleepless nights spent wondering what you did wrong.

"Starting over doesn't mean forgetting," you say, your tone firm but gentle. "We both need to face what happened before we can move forward. Do you understand that?"

"I do," she says, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious. I'll earn back your trust, Y/n, no matter how long it takes."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past hangs heavy between you, but so does the possibility of something new, something better.

"Alright," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try."

The relief that washes over her is palpable, and she throws her arms around you, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment. "Thank you," she murmurs against your chest. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

As you hold her, you can't help but wonder if you've made the right decision. The road ahead won't be easy-rebuilding what you had will take time, patience, and an unshakable commitment from both of you. But as you feel her heart beating against yours, you realize that some risks are worth taking.

Later that night, as the two of you lie tangled together in the sheets, Yuna's head resting on your chest, she traces lav patterns on your skin with her fingertips.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"Sometimes," you admit. "Why?"

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at you. "Because I want you to be in mine," she says, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. "I know it's too soon to say things like that, but. I need you to know how I feel. You're not just a second chance for me, Y/n. You're my only chance."

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you're left speechless. But as you look into her eyes, you realize that despite everything, a part of you still loves her-still wants to believe that the two of you can build something beautiful together.

Taking her hand in yours, you press a kiss to her palm and meet her gaze. "If we're going to do this, we take it one step at a time," you say. "No rushing, no expectations. Just us, figuring things out as we go."

She smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. "I can live with that," she says.

And as you lie there together, the shadows of the past slowly fading into the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope—for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t seem so uncertain after all.

The soft rays of morning sunlight stream through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle golden hue. You stretch, feeling the pleasant soreness from the night before, and glance down at Yuna, who is still curled up against you. Her fiery red hair is a mess, splayed out across the pillow, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly in her sleep.

You chuckle to yourself. She looks so peaceful, almost like the Yuna you first fell in love with—before everything became complicated. Not wanting to wake her, you gently untangle yourself from her grasp and slip out of bed.

Padding to the kitchen, you open the fridge and rummage through its contents. Eggs, cheese, a few vegetables—simple but enough for a decent breakfast. As you crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk them, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her reaction.

The smell of sizzling butter and the aroma of freshly scrambled eggs mixed with melted cheese begins to fill the apartment. You chop some green onions and sprinkle them over the eggs, adding a touch of color. The satisfying sizzle echoes through the quiet space, and before long, the scent has spread to every corner of the room.

Behind you, you hear a sleepy groan, followed by the soft rustling of sheets.

“Mm… what’s that smell?” Yuna’s groggy voice floats through the air.

You glance over your shoulder to see her sitting up in bed, her hair adorably disheveled and her eyes still half-closed. She rubs at them lazily before focusing on you, a small smile spreading across her face as she watches you at the stove.

“You’re up early,” she says, her voice teasing. “And cooking? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you reply, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “Just thought you might be hungry when you woke up.”

She grins, propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re full of surprises, Y/n. I don’t remember you cooking much before. In fact…” She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Didn’t your cooking use to suck?”

You snort, shaking your head as you grab a couple of plates and start plating the food. “I’ve improved, believe it or not. You’d be surprised what a person can learn when they’re fending for themselves.”

“Well,” she says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

As she approaches the kitchen, still dressed in your oversized shirt from the night before, she leans against the counter, watching you with a playful smirk. You hand her a plate, and she raises an eyebrow as she inspects the food.

“Eggs, cheese, green onions… simple but promising,” she says, lifting a fork.

You roll your eyes. “Just eat, critic.”

She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Her expression shifts, and for a moment, you can’t tell if she’s impressed or just messing with you.

“Well?” you ask, leaning against the counter opposite her.

She swallows, placing the fork down dramatically before breaking into a grin. “Not bad, chef. Not bad at all. I’d give it a solid eight out of ten.”

“Eight?” you repeat, feigning offense. “What’s keeping me from a ten?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Maybe it’s missing… love?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grins, her eyes sparkling as she takes another bite. “But seriously, Y/n, this is good. I guess you really have changed.”

Her words carry more weight than you expect, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere gives way to something deeper. She looks up at you, her expression softening.

“You’ve grown a lot,” she says quietly. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you take care of things. It’s… inspiring.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, but you shrug it off casually. “Well, I had to grow up eventually.”

Yuna reaches across the counter, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m glad I get to see this version of you,” she says softly.

You meet her gaze, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The past, the present, and the uncertain future all blur together, leaving only the fragile connection you’re trying to rebuild.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” you say, your voice steady.

She nods, her smile warm and genuine. “One day at a time.”

And as the morning sunlight fills the room, you realize that, for the first time in a long time, the day ahead doesn’t feel so daunting.

The decision to give Yuna another chance weighs heavily on your mind, like standing at the edge of a precipice. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake—your heart, your trust, and maybe even your peace of mind. But something about her feels different this time. Or maybe it’s the part of you that never stopped loving her, hoping against hope that this time, things might be different.

The two of you start slow, agreeing to rebuild your relationship step by step. Date nights become a regular thing—dinners, quiet walks in the park, or just staying in and watching movies together. Each moment feels like a cautious dance, balancing hope and fear, love and doubt.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch with her, a bowl of popcorn between you and an old rom-com playing on the screen. Yuna leans against your shoulder, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. It’s a quiet, domestic moment, but your thoughts are anything but calm.

“Y/n,” she says softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you reply, glancing down at her.

She hesitates, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Do you… still think about it? What I did?”

Her question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You let out a slow breath, your eyes drifting to the TV but not really seeing it.

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. “I think about it sometimes. It’s hard not to.”

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. Her eyes are filled with guilt and fear, and you can see the words she wants to say but can’t quite bring herself to voice.

“But I’m trying,” you continue, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to let go of the past. To focus on what we have now.”

Her hand tightens on your leg, and she leans into you again, her face pressed against your shoulder. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe not,” you say lightly, trying to ease the tension. “But I’m giving you a chance anyway. So don’t mess it up.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but you can feel the tension in her body start to ease. “I won’t,” she promises. “I swear, Y/n. I won’t mess this up.”

The days turn into weeks, and you begin to notice the subtle changes in Yuna. She’s more thoughtful now, more attentive. She goes out of her way to show you how much she cares, whether it’s through small gestures like cooking your favorite meals or leaving little notes for you to find throughout the day.

But there are still moments when doubt creeps in—when you catch her staring off into the distance with a troubled look or when a conversation reminds you of the cracks that once broke your relationship apart.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, you decide to confront it head-on.

“Yuna,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

She turns to face you, her eyes wide and questioning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, then pause. “Actually… I just need to ask you something.”

She nods, sitting up slightly. “What is it?”

“Why now?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with curiosity. “Why come back now, after everything?”

She takes a deep breath, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. “Because I realized how stupid I was,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I let go of the best thing that ever happened to me, and for what? A fleeting moment of… I don’t even know what. I hated myself for hurting you, Y/n. I still do. But when I saw you again, I thought… maybe this is my chance to make it right.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, raw and unfiltered. You can see the pain in her eyes, the regret that she carries with her every day.

“I can’t promise I’ll forget,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “But I’m willing to try. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort, too.”

She nods quickly, tears brimming in her eyes. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/n. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it.”

You reach out, cupping her face in your hands. “You don’t have to prove anything, Yuna. Just… be honest with me. Be real. That’s all I want.”

“I will,” she whispers, leaning into your touch.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down, piece by piece. It’s not easy—trust is fragile, and the scars of the past don’t fade overnight. But with each shared laugh, each tender moment, and each promise kept, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, you and Yuna can make this work.

But deep down, you know you’re playing with fire. One wrong move, one misstep, and it could all come crashing down.

And yet, as you lie beside her, her head resting on your chest and her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, you can’t help but think that some risks are worth taking.

For now, you’ll take it one day at a time.

The day feels surreal, the kind of quiet that makes you question how you got here. Yuna is by your side, her arms wrapped around yours as you both walk the short distance from her apartment to yours, carrying the last of her belongings.

She giggles, the sound light and musical, and leans her head against your shoulder. "It feels strange, doesn’t it?" she says, her voice filled with warmth. "Moving in together after all this time… like we’ve come full circle."

You glance at her, your emotions a tangled web. Her hair is back to the soft brown shade you once adored, framing her face in a way that makes her look like the girl you fell for all those years ago. But she’s not the same, and neither are you. The ghosts of the past linger, no matter how much effort you both put into rebuilding what was broken.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, your grip tightening slightly on the bag you’re carrying. “It’s… strange.”

Reaching your apartment, you set the bags down by the door. Yuna takes a step inside, looking around with a contented smile. She turns to you, her arms outstretched, and pulls you into a hug.

“You’ve made this place feel like home,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed against your chest.

You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around her, the familiar scent of her shampoo flooding your senses. “It’s home because you’re here now,” you say, the words sounding both true and heavy.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “I never thought I’d get this chance, Y/n. To be with you again. To… to have a family with you.”

Her hands move to her stomach, and she caresses it gently, the motion so tender it tugs at something deep within you. Your eyes follow the gesture, and for a moment, the reality of it all washes over you like a tidal wave.

A family. A future. With her.

Your gaze shifts to the wedding ring on her finger—a symbol of the promises you made, the commitment you’re trying so hard to uphold. It feels heavy, like a chain and a lifeline all at once.

Yuna notices your silence and tilts her head, her smile soft but questioning. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say after a beat, forcing a small smile. “Just… thinking about everything. About us.”

She steps closer, her hands resting on your chest as she gazes up at you. “I know it hasn’t been easy,” she says quietly. “And I know I hurt you before. But I swear, Y/n, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To us.”

Her words are earnest, filled with a love that feels overwhelming in its intensity. You nod, though the knot in your chest remains. “I know you will.”

She smiles again, her joy infectious as she intertwines her fingers with yours. “Let’s make dinner together tonight,” she suggests, her tone light. “You can show off those cooking skills of yours again.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Only if you promise not to criticize too much.”

“No promises,” she teases, leaning up to kiss your cheek.

As the two of you begin unpacking her belongings, the room fills with her laughter and the faint sound of music playing in the background. She moves with a lightness you haven’t seen in years, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to believe in the happiness you’re building together.

But as you watch her carefully place a photo of the two of you on the shelf—a relic from the early days of your love—you can’t shake the mixed feelings swirling in your chest.

You want this to work. You need it to work. But the scars of the past don’t fade so easily, and the weight of what you’re risking—your heart, your trust, your future—hangs heavily in the air.

Still, when Yuna looks at you with that radiant smile, her hand resting protectively over the life you’ve created together, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you can make it work.

For now, that’s enough.

[redflagshipwriter]

SNITCHES THE CAT SEQUEL pt1 and masterpost

Part Two/Part Three/ Part Four/ Part Five

Part One

“This you?”

Danny pushed the newspaper down without looking at it, revealing Sam’s shitty grin. “That lost cat is not me, no.” He rolled his eyes. They had been showing him lost pet ads ever since he got back from Gotham. “Isn’t that joke getting old, guys?” He kicked his way further into a slouch in the booth as Tucker came back with refilled drinks.

Tucker laughed, and then there was a silence. “Danny? Are you sure this isn’t you, man?” He sounded uncertain.

He felt his jaw twitch and he had to tell his friend off. “Is it that funny that there’s a sad kid out there? Honestly, guys-” Danny opened his eyes fully to roll them and then saw the lost pet ad being brandished in his face. He blinked at it. His brain did a full reboot and he reached out to take the paper. 

It looked like him, sleeping on the cushion in the batcave. Had they gotten that photo from the security footage? “It’s me.” His voice came out way too high.

Danny pulled the paper over in disbelief and realized that it was a two page ad. “Oh wow,” he said faintly. There he was, leaping across the kitchen. And there, that must have been taken by Damian when he fell asleep on the bed. There was a cat toy partially in the frame.

Sam’s snorting laughter cut off. “Uh.” She kicked him lightly under the table. “Is.. Is that little kid going to be okay?” She asked in a small voice. She sounded like she felt bad for poking fun. 

Danny felt guilty. He stared at the evidence that Robin was missing his cat terribly and felt like the biggest jackass possible. “Should I go back?” he wondered. He squirmed, pulling a foot up onto the bench to perch on. “I mean… How long does a cat live? A few years?”

“Try about twenty,” Tucker said flatly. “I feel bad too, man, but you can’t defer admission that long.”

“Though Snitches was clearly not a little kitten, so you could really just give it a couple years,” Sam mused. Both boys stared at her. She blinked. “Not that I’m suggesting you do that!” She waved her hands at them. “The longer you stay with him, the harder he’s going to take it when his pet ‘dies’,” she said with finger quotes. “You did the right thing by leaving as soon as you could.”

“Maybe we could answer it, do a photoshoot, tell him that Danny was your cat or something and he’s come home,” Tucker mused. “He’d be sad that he couldn’t have the cat, but surely it would be better than worrying the cat died, right?”

“What are you losers talking about?” Star said, giving their booth a wide berth. “You’re not hurting cats now, are you, weirdos?” She eyed them like they were gross. “It would figure.”

“Fuck off,” Sam said pleasantly. All three of them gave Star a rude gesture in unison, just like they had practiced. “That shit’s uncalled for.”

Star sniffled and turned away on her heel, cheer skirt flouncing behind her. A few moments later she clearly reached her table because the sounds of popular kid conversation got a lot louder.

“She should be a reporter,” Sam said darkly. “I would love for her to get sued for slander.” She snapped open her clutch and began applying even more black eyeliner, as if that would differentiate her from the other girls in the restaurant.

Tucker groaned and pulled his hat down over his eyes in despair. “That’s gonna be a bad rumor,” he complained. 

Danny couldn’t find it in him to care as much as he usually would. He was still stuck on the fact that Damian had put an ad in the Illinois Times. “Do you think he realized that Snitches got on a highway bus to Illinois?” he hissed, now aware that other people might be listening in. “How would he know that?”

Sam frowned. Tucker lifted his head and pulled out his phone to search. “That’s a good question,” he said to himself. He hit buttons rapidly. “Uh, same ad is in…” He trailed off. “Hold up, hold up, lemme search this backwards…” Whatever he saw had him raise his eyebrows high, look at Danny in disbelief, and then shake his head slightly. “You must be a really good cat. I'm kind of jealous.”

“What?” Danny hissed. “Just tell me.”

“Hey, hey, paws off.” Tucker moved his device further away. “Uh, this poor kid- well.” He paused. “Poor is the wrong word. He’s put ads in newspapers all the way up to Ontario and down to… Well, in Mexico at least.”

Danny and Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking with us,” Sam said after a long moment.

Tucker silently shook his head. “There’s a nationwide Greg’s list ad,” he said grimly. “20 dollars an hour to print and staple missing cat photos to telephone poles. And a private detective’s agency on the case, asking for witnesses to come forward.”

Danny put his head in his hands. “I have to go back,” he said, haunted by the responsibility. “I can’t let him be this sad.”

“Danny, no.” Tucker said. Sam nodded her agreement. 

“…Yeah, that’s crazy,” he said unconvincingly. He gave a fake laugh. “He’ll get over it.” Danny stared into his drink, watching bubbles. Robin was not going to get over it. That kid loved hard.

“I could use 20 dollars an hour,” Tucker said in a thoughtful tone.

“No,” Sam said flatly.

Tucker shrugged, smiling slightly. “I wonder how much I’d get for bringing you back.” He shrugged theatrically. “You could send me to college, man! Don’t you want me to go to college?”

“No…” Danny said weakly. “I… Is that fraud?” Still. Money would be nice.

“Guys, no.” Sam knocked them both in the head with the pile of napkins. “You can’t do that to this little kid. He’s clearly not well.”

“Exactly,” Tucker argued passionately. “Imagine how happy he would be to get his cat back! We could reunite him with his pet!”

It was tempting. He felt, like, so bad about how sad Robin was. The little guy had been so proud of his pet. Danny could spare a few years to make a little kid happy, right? It was kind of greedy otherwise.

Danny stared at the bubbles in his drink again, really thinking it over. “I think I would have to fight crime with him,” he said dully. “That’s a minus.”

“Danny?” Sam rapped the table with her fingers. He looked up to see her pointed eyebrow raise. “What are you talking about?”

He hunched his shoulders up. “Nothing, nothing,” he lied hastily. He forgot they didn’t know. He couldn’t dox someone’s crime fighting identity, though, it would be really unfair. 

“You could buy me a house,” Tucker wheedled. Sam hit him.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[velarisdusk]

No Room for Error

Azriel x Reader

word count: 1.5k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az does not pull out (as is typical with my fics lmao), hate sex, explicit language ] summary: Your heated argument with Azriel during a mission turns into an unexpected, yet not first-time, encounter in a broom closet. author's note: AZ AND Y/N SPIES AZ AND Y/N SPIES AAAAAA i've been wanting to write this one for a while, i'm happy it's finally in existence somewhere outside of my brain and writing drive lol ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

“You really couldn’t wait to make your move, could you?” you snap, frustration leaking into your voice as you shift again, the small space feeling tighter by the second. “We’ve been plotting this mission for months, Azriel.”

“I’m getting the job done, aren’t I?” His tone is dismissive, the usual bite to it harsher. “Maybe if you focused less on talking and more on following orders, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Following orders?” You scoff, pressing back against him involuntarily, even though you’re not sure if you want more space or less. “Maybe you’d actually listen to me if you stopped thinking you know everything.”

“I do know everything,” he growls in your ear, a dark edge to his words that makes something inside you tighten. “But you’re too busy trying to prove me wrong to realize it.”

“I’m not trying to prove you wrong,” you retort, voice sharp as you shift against him again. “You’re just impossible.”

His breath huffs against your skin. “And yet, here we are,” he murmurs, tone low, barely hiding the edge of amusement. “You’re not exactly walking away.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. “I should’ve completed twice as many missions as you by now. This was supposed to be my assignment, not yours.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Azriel snaps, his voice tight with annoyance, the tension between you both palpable. “Maybe if you didn’t rush into things all the time, you’d actually finish your missions instead of barely scraping by.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” you retort, clenching your teeth as the walls feel like they’re closing in. “I’m just fine without your help, Shadowsinger.” You spit out the title like it’s venom, though the words feel hollow as soon as they leave your mouth. The competition between you two was fierce—always had been.

“It’s not about help,” Azriel mutters, shifting just enough that you feel his presence even closer. “It’s about keeping up. You always think you can do everything on your own, but in the end, you just screw it up. It’s like you're trying to outdo me for the sake of it.”

“Outdo you?” You laugh bitterly, barely able to move without pressing into him. “I’ve been outdoing you for months, Azriel. You’re just too arrogant to see it.”

His laugh is low and dark. “If you were outdoing me, we wouldn’t be stuck in this closet right now, would we?”

“Oh, you think this is my fault?” You almost scoff, your words dripping with irritation, but the heat between you is undeniable now, thick with more than just frustration. “Maybe if you didn’t play the lone wolf every damn time, we wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t play ‘lone wolf,’” he growls. “You’re just too proud to accept I’m better at this than you.”

Your hand moves, fumbling to adjust—or maybe to steady yourself—and the shift in position has Azriel’s breath catching. The sound sends a rush of heat through you, though you’re still unwilling to admit it aloud.

“Better than me?” you ask, voice dropping dangerously low, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile. “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s been riding my coattails for months. Admit it, Azriel, you can’t stand that I’m winning.”

His hand tightens at your waist, and his next words are spoken with deliberate, biting calm. “Winning? You’re delusional. You’ve never beaten me, and you never will.”

Your lips part for another retort, but the words die on your tongue, the sound morphing into a moan as he moves. The shift in position presses him against you in a way that makes your breath hitch, his body hitting that spot deep inside you.

A faint sound of footsteps outside the closet snaps you back to reality. You barely have time to register it before Azriel’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers warm and firm against your lips, stifling any sound you might make. His other hand grips your hip harder, pulling you even closer as he continues to thrust into you, each movement making you feel him deeper, the rhythm brutal and unforgiving.

“Do you want them to hear you?” he growls low in your ear, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Want to fuck up the mission? Want to give us away?” His voice is tight with barely-contained pleasure, his breath hot against your neck. “You better keep quiet, sweetheart. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You can feel the cold leather of your pants bunched up at your thighs, the heat of his body pressing against you, the sensation of him pushing against you with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure that make it even harder to keep silent. Your body trembles beneath him, every instinct screaming for release, but the fear of getting caught only makes the tension sharper. 

A desperate whine escapes from your throat, muffled by his hand, and you feel him pause. The sound of footsteps somewhere outside the closet slows, a beat of silence hanging heavy in the air. His breath hitches slightly, but his grip moves up to your waist, and then, in one fluid motion, he presses his hips harder against you.

“Am I going to have to tell Rhys that you cost us months of work?” His words are a dark tease, but the edge of warning lingers in his voice. He pulls back, only to thrust forward again, his hips grinding into yours with slow, powerful force, each movement designed to make you feel every inch of him, to make sure you can’t forget for a second what’s happening. “Think about that, sweetheart. All of this… for nothing.”

Your breath catches as he shifts again, his rhythm turning into something deeper, more intense. The tight space only heightens the feeling of him—every inch of his body pressed against yours, making it impossible to escape the raw heat between you. He grinds into you again, his control slipping as the pressure mounts, but his voice stays dangerously low.

The footsteps outside fade, growing softer as they move away from the door. Azriel’s grip loosens slightly, and he pulls his hand from your mouth, his breath ragged against your skin. You can’t hold back anymore. 

“Please, Azriel, don’t stop, I need it,” you whine, the words slipping out before you can stop them, desperate for more. 

His response is immediate, cold, and calculating. “You don’t need anything. You want it.” His tone is firm, void of any tenderness. “You always want more, don’t you?”

Before you can answer, he shifts again, thrusting into you with a deep, controlled force that makes your body seize in response. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, using the grip to pull you onto him again and again.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low but commanding, “do you always beg like this? Is this how you get Rhys to give you assignments I’m the obvious choice for? Or am I the only one who gets to see this side of you?”

Your heart races, his words swallowing you whole. But you’re beyond caring now, beyond anything but the feeling of him inside you. His hips grind into you with a brutal, possessive rhythm, and you can’t help but let out a moan, your back arching as you press against the wall. You can feel the pressure building, every part of you straining for release, but his control is absolute, keeping you on the edge, making you ache with every moment. You know you can’t hold back much longer. 

With a final, deep thrust, he shudders, his body tightening as he finishes inside you. His breath is heavy, ragged against your neck, and he pauses, just for a moment, as if to savor the feeling of you beneath him. 

Azriel pulls out slowly, his movements deliberate, and you feel a brief emptiness where he was. Without a word, he tucks himself back into his pants with calm efficiency, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Pull your pants up,” he says, his tone cool, detached. There’s no hint of the intensity from moments ago, as if he can shut it off in an instant. 

You blink, the haze of pleasure clouding your mind as you slowly process his words. What? You’re still trying to make sense of everything when he pulls back as far as the cramped broom closet allows, glancing at you with that unreadable expression. 

“We’ve got shit to do,” he shrugs, voice colder now, businesslike. “Maybe I’ll stop by your room tonight.” There’s a dangerous flicker in his eyes as he says it, but it’s gone before you can even react. 

He opens the closet door and steps out, holding a hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment, still reeling, but you take his hand, letting him pull you back out into the hall. 

[theballadofharkness]

Housewarming

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: At your housewarming party, Agatha becomes overtaken with jealousy when she overhears Jen and Alice talking about how they wished it was them welcoming you into their home, not her.

Word Count: 2.3K

The cottage was buzzing with activity. Boxes were stacked high, the soft hum of chatter filling the air as Jen, Alice, Lilia, and Billy all pitched in to help you move into Agatha’s home. It wasn’t a huge house, but it felt like a world of its own, tucked away from the chaos of the outside world. It was warm, welcoming, and full of the kind of magic that only Agatha Harkness could bring. And now, it was even more of a home with you in it.

Agatha was lounging in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, while Billy sat at the counter, animatedly talking about his boyfriend’s latest driving test failure. He was always full of energy, and Agatha let him carry the conversation. For the most part, she was content to listen, her attention drifting from him to you. You were in the living room with Lilia, talking about her newest leggings designs, the quirky side hustle she’d been building. Your laughter rang out in the space, warm and infectious, and Agatha felt something stir in her chest every time she heard it.

It had been a few years now that you and Agatha had been together. You’d been through a lot—dark spells, moments of chaos, and quiet days tucked away in this very house, but now, with you officially moving in, Agatha was feeling a kind of protectiveness she hadn’t quite anticipated. Her feelings for you had always been intense, but living with you was a whole new experience. It made everything feel more real.

Billy’s voice cut through her thoughts. "…and then he showed up at my place holding the steering wheel in his hands, I’m still processing it, but you know how he is!"

Agatha couldn’t help but chuckle. Billy was a ball of energy, and she did enjoy his stories, but she was distracted now. Her eyes flicked back to you. You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath you, looking utterly at ease with Lilia as they shared a laugh over some joke Agatha didn’t catch. You looked so at home here, and that feeling both thrilled her and made her want to keep you close.

Then she heard Jen’s voice from across the room. She had been sitting with Alice, both of them sipping wine and quietly observing the chaos of the move. Jen’s words made Agatha freeze, her grip tightening around her glass.

"She’s absolutely stunning, though, right?" Jen said, her voice light and teasing. "I mean, when I first met her, I thought for sure she was going to be this… intimidating figure, like one of those powerful, unapproachable types. But no, she’s just so sweet and… beautiful."

"Yeah, she’s gorgeous," Alice agreed, the admiration evident in her tone. "And honestly, I don’t get it. How does Agatha, the witch killer, land someone like her? Surely, she’s going to end up walking away one day. I mean, how could she not?”

Jen let out a soft laugh, but there was an edge to it, a kind of flirtation that made Agatha’s blood boil. "When I first met her, I’ll admit it… I was a little jealous. I wanted her all to myself. I could just tell she had that something."

"Same," Alice admitted, her voice light and casual, but Agatha caught the undercurrent of truth in her words. "I was actually thinking about asking for her number, you know? She’s just so easy to be around. But I didn’t. I figured it was too obvious. The way she looks at Agatha, it’s… different."

The words hit Agatha like a slap. She’s mine, she thought, her teeth clenching involuntarily. That sharp, possessive instinct surged inside her, mixing with the jealousy she didn’t like to admit was there. She wasn’t used to feeling like this—this insecure, this vulnerable. It unsettled her.

Her gaze snapped back to you. You were sitting on the couch, still talking to Lilia, completely unaware of the conversation happening behind your back. Agatha’s mind raced with thoughts of you and what Jen and Alice had said. The idea that someone else—anyone else—could want you, that they could see the same softness in you that she did, made her blood run cold. She had to remind herself. You’re hers.

She wasn’t going to stand here listening to this. Not when they were talking about you like that, like they could take you away from her. Agatha stood abruptly, cutting Billy off mid-sentence, her glass of wine abandoned on the counter. Without sparing a second glance at the group, she moved across the room, her steps purposeful, every inch of her body radiating a quiet intensity.

Billy looked up, but Agatha was already gone.

When she reached you, she found you laughing at something Lilia had just said. She paused for a brief moment, just watching you. You were so effortlessly beautiful, so completely hers, and the thought of someone else seeing you the way she did made her chest tighten with that possessive ache.

Without a word, Agatha moved closer, her presence almost overwhelming as she slid onto the couch beside you. She pulled you toward her with a firm but gentle hand on your waist, guiding you into her space. You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything, her lips were on yours—firm, insistent, but not rough. It was a kiss meant to remind, to claim.

You gasped softly at the sudden intensity, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed her back, meeting her fervour with your own, even as her arms wrapped around you in a hold that felt possessive, protective. Her lips moved against yours, her hands threading through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

When she pulled away just enough to speak, her voice was low and thick with emotion. "You’re mine," she whispered, her forehead resting against yours, her breath shaky. "Don’t forget that."

You were breathless, but you didn’t mind. There was something intoxicating about the way she kissed you, something raw, and you could feel the tension inside her—the need to mark you as hers.

"Agatha," you said softly, your hands reaching up to cradle her face, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I’m yours. I always have been. No one else matters."

She sighed, a slow, almost contented exhale, her fingers brushing the side of your face as she gently cupped your cheek. Her eyes were softer now, but the intensity didn’t leave them. "I just had to remind myself," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "It’s just… hard sometimes."

You smiled, your thumb brushing her jaw as you gazed at her, loving the vulnerability she rarely showed. "You don’t need to worry," you said, your voice light but earnest. "I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. I love you." you breathed, your body stilling for a moment as Agatha settled you in, her fingers tracing small patterns along your arm.

"Agatha?" you asked, a soft question in your voice, though you didn’t pull away. You had learned by now that Agatha’s moods could shift quickly, but you knew it wasn’t ever about you. It was always a storm within her that needed quieting.”Are you okay?”

She leaned down, her lips brushing lightly against your ear as she spoke, her voice low but filled with affection. "I just needed to remind myself that you're here. You're mine."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sweetness of her words filling you with warmth. Agatha’s possessiveness was rarely explicit, but when it surfaced like this, it felt like a declaration. You turned your head to meet her eyes, soft and sincere.

"I’m yours," you whispered, your fingers reaching up to gently trace her cheek, feeling the subtle tension in her. "I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. My box of stuffed animals in our hallway are here to prove it” you teased.

She exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing a little as she let her head rest against yours, her lips brushing against the side of your face in a tender, almost apologetic kiss.

"I know," she murmured. "I just… sometimes, it feels like I might lose you. Like someone else could…"

"Agatha," you interrupted softly, cupping her face in both your hands, pulling her attention to you fully. "You won’t lose me. Ever."

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle in, her hands moving to rest on your waist, pulling you a little closer. She didn’t say anything, just held you there in the silence, the warmth of your presence enough to calm the storm inside her.

Lilia, who had been watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, finally spoke, her voice teasing but kind. "You two really are a sight, you know that? The way Agatha’s got you wrapped around her finger… she’s got the softest heart, when she lets it show."

Agatha rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of affection in the gesture. "Oh, stop. I’m just making sure everyone knows where they stand," she said, her fingers lightly brushing through your hair as if to emphasise her point.

You laughed softly, the sound light and easy, as you leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. "I know where I stand," you whispered, your lips brushing against hers. "I stand with you."

Agatha’s hand slid down to rest on your lower back, the possessive streak never fully leaving her, but now tempered by the softness of the moment. She kissed you back, just as gently, a quiet promise between you two that no one else needed to hear.

"Good," Agatha said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, her voice steady again. "Because you’re mine. And I’m not going to let anyone forget it."

Lilia snorted from across the room, clearly amused by the exchange, but she didn’t press the point any further. Billy, too, had caught wind of the moment and gave Agatha a playful wink.

"Alright, alright, you two. Enough of the lovey-dovey stuff," Billy called out, his grin wide. "Come on, let’s crack open that bottle of wine, yeah?"

Agatha, still holding you close, let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, though her fingers lingered possessively on your back. "Oh no, I’m not allowing the designated driver to get drunk," she said, her tone still a bit teasing. "You need to get these women home so I can give my girl a real housewarming."

You flushed red, leaning into her embrace, feeling the softness of the moment between you. "Save the bottle, we can have it in bed," you murmured, Agatha’s eyes glinting with desire, her lips curving into a smile. You kissed her again, this time a little slower, a little sweeter. And Agatha, for all her usual fire, melted into you.

“Well,” she announced, her voice unusually chipper but with a sharp edge that made the coven shift uneasily. “This has been lovely, but I’m afraid the party is over. Let’s wrap it up.”

A collective groan rippled through the group, led by Billy and Lilia, who exchanged knowing smirks.

“Come on, Agatha,” Billy teased, folding his arms. “The night’s still young! Surely we can—”

Lilia cut him off with a laugh, nudging his arm. “Oh, don’t bother, Billy. You know why she’s kicking us out.”

Agatha smirked at them, raising a brow. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Lilia gave you a wink. “Sure thing, Agatha.”

The group began gathering their things, murmuring and chuckling amongst themselves as they filed out the door. Agatha kept one arm loosely around your waist, her body language protective, as she nodded polite goodbyes.

Billy paused in the doorway, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Have fun, you two,” he said, earning a swat on the shoulder from Lilia as she dragged him out.

The last to leave was Jen, lingering near the threshold with her purse slung over her shoulder. Agatha pulled her into a hug, her hands pressing firmly against Jen’s back as she whispered in her ear.

“Listen closely,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and lethal. “If you ever try anything with her—anything at all—you’ll live to regret it. Understand?”

Jen stiffened in the embrace, her eyes darting nervously to you before nodding quickly. “I wasn’t— I wouldn’t,” she stammered.

“Good.” Agatha pulled back, her smile sharp and unyielding. “Have a safe trip home.”

Jen mumbled a hasty goodbye and practically scurried out the door, her nervous energy almost palpable. Agatha closed the door behind her, locking it with a flick of her wrist before turning to you. The room seemed to settle, the heavy atmosphere lifting as Agatha’s shoulders relaxed.

She leaned against the door, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Well, that takes care of that.”

You laughed softly, walking over to her and wrapping your arms around her waist. “What did you say to Jen?”

“Oh, nothing important,” she said breezily, pulling you closer. Her grin softened into a fond smile as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s focus on us, babygirl. Tonight’s all about you and me.”

“Upstairs. Now.” She ordered, swatting your ass playfully making you squeal as you ran upstairs, Agatha hot on your tail.

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the cozy warmth of your home.

A/N: So I’m thinking of making a part 2 to this including some possessive Agatha smut… let me know if that would be something you guys would be interested in 💜

Masterlist

[chosove]

*tw!!! daddy kink!!! + a lotttt of size kink stuff!!! fem bodied reader*

I know he gets such a like…almost ‘selfish lover’ rep but in my humble daddy issue biased opinion, toji would 100% talk you through it like…

Everyone already finds him so intimidating, if not from his stature and general appearance, its his gruff voice and combative personality. He doesnt even mean to do it, he just always has that trademark scowl on his face that makes people afraid to say excuse me in grocery stores :(

Not you though, you still served him with your bright smile as he checked out of the store. You asked how he was and giggled at his flirty response of ‘why, ya wanna make my day better?’. I mean…other than his kids he never had people willingly make small talk with him, let alone laugh at his old man jokes.

Godddd he just gets so flustered when you look at him with your big doe eyes and say have a fantastic day :(

Thats why when he sees you on the dating app megumi downloaded for him (against his will), he feels his heart skip a beat. I just know he’s all nervous, thinking how dirty he is as a self proclaimed ‘old man’ finding such a pretty young thing attractive- i mean you could literally be his daughter. All these worried thoughts flitted through his head while he tried to decide, not realizing his thumb was just a littttttlllleeeee too close to the screen as he accidentally matched with you.

Oh.

Oh.

I mean it was an accident for him, but was it an accident for you? It couldnt be if you were texting him already, a message reading “hey there stranger :)” popping up on his phone.

And when you liked his simple response of “Hello.”, responding with “anything i can do to make your night better, toji?”, that couldnt just be a typo or misclick, right?

You made him feel like a teenager again, the butterflies he felt only becoming more intense when you asked him to come over n’ tell you in person :( he nearly jumped out of his skin trying to get ready, hands fumbling with that pinstripe button-up he’d been saving for something special (gumi’s grad or….i guess his first date in forever). It was only at times like this he wished he had someone to call to help him chill out.

Maybe after tonight that’d be you though? He hoped so at least, and even when you pulled him into your apartment, pushing him on the couch while he stuttered about getting to know each other first, he knew you were the girl for him.

It did take a while for him to actually get up to your speed- he didnt wanna break you or anything. You were just so, so desperate for him, tugging at his shirt while you grinded your clothed cunt against his beefy thighs, filthy words coming out of your mouth only making it harder for toji to take it slow with you.

“God you’re so big toji, feel like even jus’ your fingers can split me in half.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, knew you’d treat me better than all the guys my age. Ya gonna fuck me right toji? Please?”

“C’mon toji…know you wanna breed me, bet it’ll only take one time for me to give you a baby. D’you want that daddy?”

It was no later you said that word that he was picking you up, throwing you onto the tiny mattress your studio apartment held. Yeah, he definitely wasnt getting out of this alive- but neither were you judging by the way his big hands began to unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants you so graciously left a giant wet stain on, the outline of his cock in his boxers making your mouth water.

“See what ya do to me, pretty?” His deep voice spoke, one hand giving his throbbing dick a few much-needed strokes while he stared down at you like a wolf. “Nothin’ to say anymore, hm? C’mon, i liked hearing it all.”

He hadnt even pressed himself against you before you let out a whine, his hands resting themselves on your sides already being enough to make your hips jump. If it weren’t for the fact he was now intent on hearing more of those pretty sounds from you, he’d have let out a whine himself from how soft your skin felt against his worked hands. And when he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, clenching his jaw at the sight of strands of wetness sticking to your pussy, he nearly came in his pants.

“Poor girl, bet this sweet pussy hasnt been treated right in forever hm?” The question nearly brought tears to your eyes, both from the truth of it and from the fact he began to thumb at your glistening cunt, the rough pad of his finger being the exact pressure you needed on your pulsing bundle of nerves. “T-toji i might cum alr-”you began, but you werent able to get your sentence out before his hand came down to slap against your cunt.

“What happened to my good girl from earlier? Y’know not to call me toji, little bird. Whats my name?” He whispered against the shell of your ear, fingers covered in your wetness now coming to play with your hard nipples.

Clinging to his shaggy hair like it was your lifeline, you nearly cried out as you came undone for him, the desperate moan of ‘thank you daddy’ falling from your lips. He smiled as you writhed below him, your body convulsing while he let you ride what would be the first of many orgasms that night.

[auggieblogs]

The brow incident | Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Author’s note: Hiii, loves!!! Hope you all are doing good. My first Spencer fic and definitely not my last because I cannot for the love of god, get that man out of mind. I AM OBSESSED so please expect criminal minds fics in the future. Anywaysss, happy reading💗

Warning: sexual innuendos

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

“Spence,” you said sweetly, leaning against the back of the chair he had just sat in. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Spencer glanced up at you suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. “Yes… and I feel like you’re about to weaponize that love against me.”

You grinned. “Not against you. For you. Your eyebrows, to be specific.”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. They’re fine. They don’t need fixing.”

(For weeks, you’d been trying to convince him to let you fix his eyebrows. Not that they were bad, per se, but there was just a little untamed chaos there that you knew you could tame.)

“They’re not fine. You’ve got stray hairs everywhere, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to clean them up a little!”

“I’d like to remind you that I’m a grown man and perfectly capable of managing my own eyebrows,” he protested, even though you both knew he never did.

You sighed dramatically. “You’ve left me no choice.”

Before he could protest further, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and effectively trapping him in the chair.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” he exclaimed, his hands instinctively moving to steady you at your waist.

“Taking matters into my own hands,” you said with a smirk, pulling a pair of tweezers out of your pocket.

Spencer groaned again, his cheeks flushing pink. “This is unfair. You’re using my inability to physically overpower you against me.”

“Correct,” you chirped. “Now, hold still.”

He muttered something about how this was a violation of his personal space, but he didn’t move. You leaned in, examining his brows with laser focus.

“Okay, this won’t hurt too much,” you promised, carefully plucking the first stray hair.

“OW!” he yelped, flinching.

“Oh, stop being a baby,” you teased, gripping his chin to steady him. “One down, a hundred to go.”

Spencer huffed, his hands instinctively resting on your waist to keep you balanced. “I don’t even know why this is necessary. No one’s looking at my eyebrows that closely.”

“I am,” you replied, plucking another hair.

“Lucky me,” he grumbled, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

The next few minutes were filled with his exaggerated whining and your mock scolding, the both of you laughing more than anything else. But then, as you leaned in to focus on a particularly stubborn hair, you shifted slightly on his lap.

That’s when you felt it.

Your movements stilled, and you glanced down, realizing exactly what had happened. A slow grin spread across your face as you looked up at Spencer, whose cheeks were already turning a deep shade of red.

“Oh,” you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Don’t,” he warned, his tone a mix of mortification and desperation.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The sight of his flushed face and his clear discomfort was just too funny. “Oh my God, Spencer! This is hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he hid his face in his hands. “It’s biology. It’s involuntary.”

“Involuntary, huh?” you teased, leaning forward just enough to make him groan in protest. “So you’re saying this has nothing to do with me?”

“Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice a low warning. “This is serious.”

“It’s seriously funny,” you said, still laughing as you climbed off his lap, much to his relief—and apparent dismay.

But before you could move far, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. “You can’t just leave me like this,” he said, his voice soft but laced with need.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Leave you like what, Spence?”

“You know what,” he said, his pout returning full force. “You started this. You should finish it.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little longer. “Finish your eyebrows first?”

Spencer let out a groan, leaning back in the chair with a defeated look. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I do. Even when you’re torturing me.”

You grinned, stepping closer and letting your fingers trail along his jaw. “Tell you what, Dr. Reid. If you’re a good boy and let me finish your eyebrows, I’ll see what I can do about… your problem.”

His eyes darkened slightly at your tone, and he swallowed hard. “Deal.”

“Good,” you said with a wink, grabbing the tweezers again. “Now hold still.”

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀arguing w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: as much as you love your older brother you end up second guessing him, tired of only being allowed to talk to him and wishing you had some friends like other girls did ૮𐔌っ˕ -｡꒱ྀི𑁬

tw: angst, caleb slaps reader, they argue (obviously), tons of manipulation, rape mentions, drug mentions, caleb’s a fake to people, pathetic reader, overall this is really toxic, etc.

caleb was waiting for you parked in front of your uni, toying around with the necklace you gifted him when you were kids while his mind drifted away.

he was so excited for today, friday’s being his favorite days of the week since he took you out to eat and then had a walk by the meadowy park near your house. it was simple but he enjoyed every second he shared with you.

he didn’t need much more than that, really. he just needed you.

all the girls at your uni were hands down for your handsome older brother, trying to approach him every chance they’d get and getting politely rejected, even though he felt disgusted by them and thought they were vulgar whores; he was pretty good at hiding it.

you, on the other hand, started to feel lonelier each passing day.

ever since you were a kid you shared all of your time with caleb up until now. you told him everything, lived every moment together. there was no memory in which he didn’t appear.

and you really really liked that, you wouldn’t want that to change. but there’s been the longing for a friend, someone who wasn’t caleb, someone new.

you’ve always tried to get to know some of your classmates, feeling a little bit guilty when you disobeyed your big brother’s orders. it wasn’t hard for you to socialize, you were actually very good at it!

a nice sweet girl with a pretty voice and soft smile? who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?

well, every single time you thought you made a friend they would separate ways with you in a couple days, which made you feel sad and insecure.

why are they living you so fast, were you rude, said something bad, appeared weird perhaps?

far from reality the only one to blame was caleb, who had his eyes glued to you every second of the day and didn’t miss on how you tried you break free from the brainwash he managed to give you throughout the years.

he learnt this would happen every so often, and stopped confronting you about it long ago.

yes, he used to argue with you about this kinda thing, complaining about you getting along with other people and playing the victim, crocodile tears down his face as he begged you to never leave him.

so what he’d do now it’s confront the person in question directly, maybe to threat them, maybe to beat them up, maybe to kill them if they got too annoying.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hey, pips, how was today?” he asked with a boyish smile plastered on his round lips, frowning when he noticed your crossed arms and pouty face, not even greeting him and looking out the window to avoid his purple eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i’m talking to you.” he mentioned your name in a serious manner, locking the doors before grabbing both your cheeks with one of his big hands to make you face him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i want to go to the party.” you simply muttered, avoiding his gaze while you tried to pull away from his grip, making him wrap your throat now. “we’ve already talked about that, princess. and it’s still a no.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“but mom and dad said i could go!” you complied, crossing your arms again. a tantrum is the last thing he needed from you today.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mom and dad don’t know what’s best for you. i do.” he spat, letting you go and mimicking your pose now. “you wanna know what goes down at these frat parties, hmm?” caleb challenged you, tracing the shape of the steering wheel while speaking.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there’s people getting high on anything they can find, fainting, vomiting because of how drunk they are, fucking everywhere.” he knew the party you wanted to attend was nothing like that, your classmates telling about the party to your parents and describing it as ‘chill’ and ‘safe’.

caleb totally believed that, they seemed fucking boring.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“what? no, that’s not true! you’re a big liar!” you yelled at him, feeling how his hand collided against your cheek; you knew you crossed the lane when you raised your voice at him. so you just took it, going silent after that.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“if you wanna get drugged and raped by the whole fucking class the go ahead, i’m done with this conversation.” he spat, engine vibrating beneath your feet as he drove you two back home. what a failure of a friday.

the whole drive you sat down there, tears rolling down your face as you quietly whimpered, cleaning them with the sleeves of your sweater.

you just wanted to make friends and go on a party for once to at least die knowing how it feels to be like the other girls. but that made your gege upset, and you loved him more than anything, more than you loved yourself.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“it hurts me more than it hurts you.” caleb broke the silence after parking in front of your house, resting his head against the headrest and sighing, looking at you now.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“‘m sorry, gege. i’m being selfish.” your voice trembled, reaching out for his hand to hold it up against your lips, kissing it several times, tears wetting his pale skin.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i don’t like hurting you like this, you know that. why you make me do it, doll. why can’t you just listen?” he kept on questioning you, his palm pressing against the cheek he slapped minutes prior, caressing the imprint his fingers left.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i know, i know, i’m truly sorry. please forgive me, please gege. i love you.” you kept on apologizing, rubbing yourself against the attention he gave you, feeling the tears fall again and again.

he wasn’t faced by your crying. sure, he didn’t like to see you cry, but he knew he had to be strict with you in order to make you behave. you really hurt his feelings and you had to know your actions had consequences.

it took him a few days to completely forgive you, days in which you had to wake up without him, in which you had to cook for yourself and come back home by foot all alone.

days in which you remembered your gege was all that mattered in your life and realized that you didn’t need any friends, because no one would know how to treat you or take care of you like your old brother did.

and just like that caleb got away with it again, torturing you to make you behave, obliging you to live without him even if it was just a couple of days to make you see how much you actually needed him.

you finally understood after all; no friends, only caleb. you made yourself believe you were okay with that. ⠀ ⠀ 　　　

a/n: this was a request from an anon! I hope you like it, bunny. I feel like i outdid myself with this one, this is how i see caleb in my mind fr ᥩྀི ´ ᩳ ` ꒱

— masterlist.

[gyaruhana]

HEYHEYYYYYY!!! I know requests are closed, buuuut... my mind has been going crazy thinking about a yandere Min su. Ik he's a cutie patootie but, UGHHH. Am I the only one who sees him as having yan potential?? Idk, but I NEED him as a yan. 😭

Min-Su/Player 125 - Yandere!Min-Su Headcannons

Synopsis: minsu as a yandere..

A/N: i hear you and i see you. he could so be a yan ugh !!

Warnings: yandere content, smut content, kinda short..

➠ Min-Su is sort of like a stray puppy honestly..

➠ he stalks follows you around constantly but never gets too close

➠ he's more on the quiet side so he doesn't really think about going up to you and talking to you

➠ he instead opts for the much creepier move which involves watching you every single day and night

➠ you'll see him everywhere but he's careful enough to make it look like a coincidence so you'll never suspect anything more

➠ he might be a bit of a push over but do NOT mistake that for him being weak..

➠ he's not afraid to get his hands dirty if he knows he can get away with it

➠ he's very much driven by the fear of losing you to someone else and fear makes him do a lot of bad things

➠ If he's able to, he'll kill whoever poses a threat to his chances with you and then burn the body

➠ However, if he can't, he won't hesitate to kidnap you instead

➠ he's so sloppy when he tries to kidnap you because he's doing it out of sheer panic he might lose you

➠ takes three tries before he successfully does it and takes you to his place

➠ he's nervous when you first wake up tied to his chair and tries to be very gentle so you'll like him more but quite quickly gives that up when he realizes you won't change your opinion now that he's kidnapped you

➠ he's still nice.. he loves you and doesn't want to hurt you but he will get upset if you annoy him too much

➠ he will keep you tied to a chair but he'll tie you to his bed at some point for cuddles (he's clingy)

➠ like i said, he's so stray puppy core

➠ he always wants to please you and keep you happy because you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen and he's so hopelessly in love with you

➠ he won't let you leave the house though

➠ On the bright side, he will feed you amazingly !!

➠ 5 star meals all the time and he will not settle for anything less for you

➠ he wants to reward you all the time for being perfect

➠ he also wants to be rewarded with physical touch like head pats

➠ on a more sexual note..

➠ he will top but he is still submissive

➠ he's just on top because he gets nervous you'll try run if he unties you

➠ he's quiet for the most part but he whines every now and again

➠ so so sensitive he literally can't handle teasing

➠ and yet he overstimulates himself every time anyway

➠ he also cries easily

➠ I feel like it's important to mention he'd wait for you to come to him for sex

➠ he's patient and isn't super eager for sex.

➠ as long as he gets cuddles, he's happy

➠ overall, really gentle yandere but does get his hands dirty

"I'm really sorry but I couldn't let him take you from me," Min-Su spoke as he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb. Min-Su never meant if for it to happen like this. He'd rather be on a date with you instead of having you tied up to a chair in his house. However, that guy he saw you with last sunday looked like he was about to sweep you off your feet and Min-Su just couldn't have that. Ideally, he would've just killed the guy like he did the last few that risked his chances of stealing your heart. Unfortunately, Min-Su knew he'd be no match for that guy so he had to do the next best thing; kidnap you. Even if his heart ached at your tears of fear, he knew this was for the better. You were all his now. "Don't cry, please. It's alright. I won't hurt you - not when you're mine,"

[capitanoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 13 | What Belongs to Him

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

You originally thought that sleep would be hard to come by, however, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next morning. Your body feeling better than yesterday thanks to the medicine that Luocha gave you. Sitting up in bed, you looked around your room, and then to your bedroom door. Your room, as far as you knew was your only safe haven and a place you could hopefully let your guard down. Though, you still worried… what if someone was in here right now hiding? You closed your eyes and tried to listen carefully, but you couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Moze has definitely left an impression on you…

Shaking your head after a few moments, you finally got out of bed. There was a dull ache in your legs and back, but it was bearable thankfully.

Now, Jing Yuan said my maids will help me today, but… ever since coming here no maid has ever made such an effort. Maybe once or twice, but that was about it. Probably because they don’t like me all that much.

You sighed at your thoughts and went for your wardrobe. Opening the closest doors, your eyes roamed over your dresses. Wait… are there more in here than before? You decided not to question it as you went for a dress that just so happened to be your favorite color. If Jing Yuan asks about it, then you could just say that he had said that it was your favorite color and that you could understand why you liked it so much now that you see it in person. Now, putting the dress on proved to be a hassle but you managed… somehow.

“Ok… so now what?”

You looked to your bedroom door again. Do you even risk it? Then again, it definitely beats staying in here all day.

So, gathering nay courage that you had, you went to your door.

“Ok, so I’m a princess with amnesia, and I’m to be married to the Emperor. In other words, I should act like I own the place, right?”

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out of your bedroom. Looking left and then right, you decided to head right. (You knew that the kitchen and dining room were that way, but you would just tell anyone that asks that you took a guess on which way to go.)

Walking down the halls, you noticed how some of the maids avoided you, not that you minded. You didn’t particularly want to talk to them either. It wasn’t until you passed by the stairs that you fell down that you stopped.

Thinking about it now, this means you fell down these stairs twice, right?

I hope I don’t make it three…

“y/n.”

You jumped a little and spun on your heel to look at who had spoken to you, but the voice was distinct. You already knew who it was.

“Yuan?”

The Emperor was smiling at you, “I’m surprised that you’re already out of bed,” he said as he came to stand next to you his eyes shifting from you to the stair case.

“Well, I know you said my maids will assist me, but no one ever came to check up on me, and…,” you shifted from foot to foot, “since I’m to marry you…. I thought I was allowed to walk around. Did I- did I mess up?”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly as he held out his arm for you. Taking a moment to realize what he was doing, you hesitantly wrapped your hands around his arm. One hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm. Once you gotten a hold on him, he started to go towards the stairs and with a shaky step from you, you both began to descend the stairs.

“You’re allowed to go anywhere your heart desires within my domain. Though, I do ask that you be escorted.”

You wondered if he could feel your fingers tremble against his arm. His arm, to which you noticed was lined with taught muscle. Focus, y/n, focus!

“I- I’m sorry, no one was by my door either…”

“I know, Blade, your bodyguard, was taking care of some business for me. He’ll be by your side again after breakfast.”

“Then is that why you were coming down the hall? To come get me?”

You saw a glint in his eyes as he smiled at you.

Once down the stairs, you went to let go of his arm, but he raised his other hand to keep your hands where they were. You looked back at the steps.

“Was this the staircase I fell down?”

Jing Yuan looked to where your eyes were watching, “yes, it was. Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I just.. have a feeling is all,” you looked back up at Jing Yuan as he turned his gaze back to your face, “how about the one who pushed me… I heard it was.. a maid?”

“Yes,” you could hear the sigh in his voice, “a maid, but I wouldn’t worry about her. She has been properly dealt with.”

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. While you were sleeping in bed… some maid was getting killed.

“But why not give her a punishment instead?”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully as he dropped his arm causing you to let go of his bicep and forearm.

And all too quickly he was in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs pressed right under your jaw and tilting your head up. You could feel the way your breath hitched and how your heart seemed to skip every other beat.

“Because little sparrow, I truly despise when someone damages what belongs to me.”

He let one hand fall from your cheek to rest against your throat. His fingers encircled your throat with careful precision as he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips that contrasted with the way he held you in place. And all too soon his hands didn’t feel to domineering or suffocating as he moved them to slide down your arms and to your hips. His lips slowly detach from you as you silently caught your breath.

“Now, princess, let’s go eat breakfast. I was sure to tell the chefs to cook your favorites.”

He was going to kill you again; you were sure of it.

Taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[kamiversee]

𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: Four

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin. 

❀ ~ Content > language, dry humping, thigh riding, dirty talk, pet names, sexual tension, flirting, (slight) fluff, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 5.6k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——Spending seven days in a carriage is not for the weak. It’s a bumpy journey to the northern nation and takes quite a toll on all those traveling. It brings about stress and even a faint sense of dread after a while. At some point, you’d find yourself staring out the carriage window for what seemed like hours, merely watching as you passed by similar-looking trees over and over and over again.

Nightfall didn’t fare much better for you either. Or at least, it didn’t for the first few days. You’d gone on long trips like this before in your lifetime but this still felt different in some ways. So, on about the fifth night of your travels, you wanted to relieve yourself of the stress the road had brought you.

It was late and the carriages were still on a steady roll toward your destination, having taken a decent break earlier in the day. Nothing much had changed since your original departure. You still rode with Higuruma, occupying the same carriage as you whilst Yuki and the driver remained outside. Or at least, that’s what you did on most nights—not this one though.

No, instead, Higuruma ended up sharing a carriage with Utahime for the night per your request since you wanted Yuki to ride inside with you. Only two days of travel remained before you would set your eyes on that world-renowned blue-eyed prince again. But before you could even make it near the damn castle, you just had to rub one out.

Every day of travel was far too stuffy and cramped inside the carriage, despite it being rather roomy���it was more of a metaphorical kinda stuffy. Every day you found yourself near boredom just from watching the moving and ever-changing terrain outside the window, a boredom which only worsened at night given the dim lighting.

Combining that with the one or two wheel mishaps your crew ran into during the journey, you were definitely feeling anxious. Typically, when such anxieties settle upon you, you make sure to find time for yourself but when you’re traveling, it’s rather difficult to do so. Hell, everyone basically told you no straight up when you asked to ride alone for a while.

Which is more or less how you ended up with Yuki inside the carriage now. Someone just had to have their eyes on you so… have her eyes on you she did. But it wasn’t only her eyes that were on you currently. Those gorgeous hands of hers were latched to your hips as you moderately began indulging in your ‘harem duties’.

Yuki’s entire expression was focused upon you, a mix of anxiousness and lust dripping from her eyes alone. “This is… torture, princess.” Her voice left her throat in a mere whisper given your predicament. 

With a hand on her shoulder, your lips parted by her ear, thighs spread out over one of her own, and panty-clad cunt grinding in a delicious friction over her tensed leg—perhaps you truly were torturing the poor woman. “Just a few more minutes, please?” You uttered against her skin, voice sweet enough to make yet another chill sliver down her spine, “I’m… close.”

The hands hoisted onto your hips tightened in grip and Yuki found her teeth gritting slightly, “You could’ve finished by now if you’d let me—”

A jerk of your heat against her thigh causes her sentence to fall short. “We can’t,” You practically whine to the woman.

Yuki rolls her eyes and she can feel the tips of her fingers just itching to move against you. She knows she could make you feel so good if you’d just let her. “Who would know?” She asks you, angling her head toward you so that her gaze can fall on yours.

As you two meet one another in a mutual low-lidded stare, a small frown tugs at your lower lip and you sigh. “I would. The first night is—”

“Important, yes yes I know,” She cuts off in a huffed exhale, “We can’t have sex because that may make other (future) members of your harem feel bad or whatever.”

Your hips slow to a stop and you find your lashes bat at the woman before you. “It’s more than that. The person that I spend the first night with is important. Choosing this person is something I’ll do once I return home with the full harem.”

Yuki’s face tenses slightly, her brow twitching upward in faint irritation, “You already chose me first to join your harem, so what’s the difference?”

“I chose you first out of convenience more than anything.” You tell her. She flashes you a pointed look and you’re quick to make up for what you’d just said. “N-Not to say I wouldn’t have asked you to join if you lived far from me but… well, you are always quite close to me. It was only natural that I chose you first.”

She nods off, her head turning elsewhere, “So, does my being your first member mean almost nothing?”

You shrug a little and debate telling her a white lie but the truth leaves you before anything else, “Essentially, yes.” 

“I see—”

“Though,” You cut off as you lean toward her line of vision again, “It doesn’t make you any less special to me. Whether you were my first or last, I would desire you all the same.”

At that, you can feel the way the muscles in her thigh tense up and it makes your breath hitch. Pressing right up against your slick folds, you’re suddenly aware of the situation you’re in with the woman all over again. 

Her hands shift up to hold your waist and her hips roll slightly as she adjusts herself against the carriage seating, leaning her torso towards you and tilting her head as if she were about to kiss you. “If what you say is true then let me reciprocate this desire of yours,” Yuki whispers.

Everything about this woman makes it so very difficult for you to restrain yourself. Your eyes can’t help but fall down onto those pretty pinkened lips of hers. One push forward is all it would take for you to melt into her entirely and yet, you lean yourself back.

Whispering, “Yuki,” As she tightens her grip on your waist and tugs you toward her once more.

“One kiss won’t kill you.” She practically grits out as she eyes down each pant and every gasp that’s elicited from your throat.

It takes you a moment of self-deprecation not to give in to her right then and there. The tension that lies between what little space remains between her body and your own is thick and heavy with lust. Yuki looks like a second longer without having her head in between your legs and your taste dripping off her chin will be the death of her. You don’t think your body has ever felt so hot beneath someone else’s gaze before.

You can feel every ounce of pure want that exudes from her, the desperation lying in her fingertips to get them soaked with you, and the restrain on her body she holds not to flip you over against these damn seats and—

“It isn’t fair to the others.” You eventually whisper out, your voice carrying an unnoticeable waver to it.

“How so?” Yuki asks immediately without giving you time to even answer. Instead, her tongue swipes over her lips and she sighs, “Does that mean the harem member you kiss first will be of greater importance than the rest?”

Your thighs involuntarily squeeze around her, “No.”

“Then what is it?” She presses, flicking her sights up to your greedy gaze. 

You take a deep breath. “I am not good at… holding myself back. If I let you kiss me,” You pause again and your eyes dance back and forth between her left and right. Even amid the dark of the night, you’ll never figure out what it is about those deep pools of chocolate brown that cause your head to spin in the way it does, “I will only long for more.”

“So long for more,” She sears. Yuki narrows her eyes at you and her lips brush up against your own, “Long for all of me in the same way the rest of your body is right now.”

A whine exits the back of your throat, “We cannot.”

Yuki groans. “You say that but I know how badly you want to,” She then pushes up on her toes a bit, causing her leg to grind up against your cunt, “...I can feel you throbbing every time I open my mouth.”

All in one breath, “Then stop talking.” You practically choke out as your fingertips dig into her shoulders.

Yuki merely pouts to mock you, “Oh, but she does the same thing when I look at you too.” Teasingly, her head then weighs down a bit and she kisses the tip of your chin, gaze still locked onto you.

This time you groan a little and your head falls back, “Avert your eyes.”

She seizes the opportunity right then to latch her lips onto the center of your throat, kissing you in a hungered manner whilst her teeth graze over your sensitive skin. “Or touch you..” She continues, talking right against you.

The kiss alone not only sends a spiral of chills down your spine but it also earns a grind of your hips and an unintentional moan of her name, “Yuki..”

“Fuck,” She smiles against your neck, trailing down with her hot kisses, “Don’t say my name like that.”

A hand of yours leaves her shoulder and sinks up into her hair as you too crack a smile, “I can’t help it.”

You hear this throaty noise leave her lips just as she meets your collarbones and her hands begin to snake around your waist, gliding down, “I know, I know—slips off your tongue so easily, doesn’t it?”

She shouldn’t be touching you in the way that she is but all thoughts of protesting against it nearly fly out the window as she grabs a greedy handful of your ass. To which your body arches against her touch and your steady dry humping picks up in pace. 

Lost in it, and just barely finding it in you to respond to that question of hers, you end up murmuring to the woman so faintly that it almost misses her ears, “M-Mhm..”

Her breathy chuckle can be felt slipping down along the exposure of your skin, tickling you in indescribable ways. Trying to hide the sudden cockiness that just gave her, she snickers, “Aw, what’s this? We’re mumbling now?”

You try to snap back into yourself but when her hands return to your hips and she begins to guide them against her thigh, all hope is lost. “No, I-I just…”

Yuki lifts her head and watches as your eyes flicker due to the addictive friction her guidance is stimulating you with, “Just what?”

Your words fall so heavily from your mouth, as if unintentional. “I didn’t know you could say such crude things.”

“Princess,” She purrs, clearly mocking your title now in contrast to her usual tone of respect. “If you thought that was crude then you should allow me to have a long ‘n deep conversation with this sweet thing down here,” Every breath she takes is softer than the last but it slaps against your already fiery skin and only has your mind dizzying more and more by the second. 

To emphasize that little comment of hers, Yuki angles her hand elsewhere, resulting in a firm press of her thumb against your clothed clit. Your entire body reacts all at once and your head drops forward as a restrained moan exits your lips, just barely, “Hah… Yuki, please.”

She grins and her thumb rolls over your sensitive bud, causing your legs to clench around her again, “Oh? You like this, huh?” Her voice hits your ear this time and it feels as though that entire side of your face, along with the rest of your body, was burning up in a flustered array of heat.

You don’t dare to part your lips and even attempt to speak as her gentle touch continues. So, instead, you give her a hum and a lazy nod, “Mhmm..”

“Mumbling again? C’mon, don’t get all shy on me,” Yuki scoffs. She then takes her other hand and redirects it to your face, forcing your head up so that she can see your expression again. It’s almost in slow motion the way she presses the pad of her thumb against your bottom lip, staring right into your mouth and then whispering, “Here, open f’me.” 

You’re inclined to follow her every command, almost as if the roles between the two of you had changed. Your eyes have the sheerest gloss of pleasure husking over them and you appear way more desperate than you realize. Just as you obediently comply with her request and find your mouth opened into a small ‘o’ shape, Yuki flashes you a proud smile.

“Thereee we go,” She praises lightly, “Now don’t hold back. If you’re gonna moan then moan, I wanna hear you.”

Just then, your hips can’t help but rut further against her leg, your knee steadily drawing closer and closer to her crotch. It makes you wonder if she’s just as aroused by this as you are right now, especially considering you’re busy leaving quite the slick mess on her thigh. 

Batting your lashes as the sound she’s listening so intently for nearly escapes your throat, you whisper, “I can’t be loud, what if Shiu hears?”

The corner of her lips twitched smugly, “I’m sure he wouldn’t complain.”

“But—”

“Don’t think about him right now though, only me.” She cuts off, swiping that thumb still latched to your clit downwards a bit as you roll your hips forward. You again suppress the sound that tries to leave you, despite your mouth being open, and she frowns. “When I tell you to moan, I’m telling you to do so for me. If you’re gonna get off on my thigh like this then it’s the least you can do, no?”

Whining instead, you just pout. “Y-You’re cruel.”

Yuki’s eyes dilate at the sound of that, knowing she could be so much ‘crueler’ to you right now if she really wanted to. “Aww, now you’re just sayin’ things.” She teases.

“Shut up,” You fire back with quickness.

To your surprise, she actually does. You’re not sure if that helps you right now though, given the situation you’re in… Her silence only works to her benefit because the fewer words she spouts, the more attention she can give to that twitching clit of yours that her thumb soon only stimulates more and more and more.

One finger and you’re a sopping mess against her within minutes. From all those bratty complaints of yours to burying your head into the crook of her neck as you moan her name against her skin, Yuki finds that it’s in her lack of speech that she can truly do what she’d wished to from the very beginning. 

When you earlier first proposed the idea of getting yourself off, she immediately offered herself to you—all of her, right then and there without stutter. Of course, you turned that down and told her something about first nights being important blah blah blah… yeah, none of that seems to matter much now when you’re humping her thigh and blindly sucking on her neck out of desperation to reciprocate the pleasure you’re feeling.

That first suck catches her entirely off guard and your ears don’t fail to catch the heightened gasp she lets out. To which you only grow greedier and greedier. You let Yuki continue using that thumb of hers as your body melts entirely into her own, pussy leaving a slicked mess against the fabric of her uniform, and before you even realize what you’re doing—there are hickies forming all along that surprisingly sensitive neck of hers.

The first moan she lets out is when you kiss the area where her neck and shoulder meet, the sensation another surprise to her. Then, another leaves her lips when your body presses up against hers and your knee meets her crotch fully and firmly. Her thumb stammers in its roll against you and the moan she chokes out is loud enough for you to lift your head and look at her face.

Now she’s flushed. Her cheeks are the reddest you’ve ever seen and yet, that dominating look in her eyes has yet to soften. The sound of pleasure she let out was embarrassing, sure, but that didn’t stop her from keeping the rest of her composure (for the most part, anyway).

You’d never wanted to kiss someone more in that moment. Your orgasm was approaching and Yuki was right there, less than a hair’s length away from her lips being mashed into yours. And then came the eye contact. Bold and unwavering, as if she were silently telling you to go ahead and let go—to which you do a mere few seconds later. 

Yuki smiles at you and coaxes you through your orgasm as cries of sweet sweet pleasure fly out your throat. You won’t let her kiss you and she knows it but she leans in and trails kisses from the corner of your mouth to the tip of your ear just to whisper, “That’s my girl,” You think your eyes cross a little with how much that drives you farther off the edge. “You look so pretty when you cum, did y’know that?”

A hand of yours meets somewhere near her chest as you clench onto her uniform, unable to form words at the moment.

She lets out a gentle giggle. “Too vulgar for you?”

Your head shakes. Truth be told, you’ve heard words of filth before, you’re no stranger to it. But hearing it from Yuki is… it’s so wildly different and new for you. Her voice is usually so stern and protective around you but this side of hers is a whole new world.

Not that any of that is meant to be a complaint or anything, you quite like this side of her. It truly excites you to think of the day you return home with her and the rest of your harem, hopefully, and you’ll be able to experience all of which that mouth of hers has to offer. 

So, with all that said and done, the two of you eventually work around the carriage to clean yourselves up. Yuki ends up having to ask Shiu to stop so she can visit another carriage for a change of clothes but, luckily for her and all else involved, no one questioned anything.

And thus, that fifth night of traveling ended both smoothly and satisfactorily—leaving you on cloud nine and you grew closer and closer to the Northern Kingdom.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Less than a day later each view you took of the scenery outside your classy carriage window consisted only of snowy plains that stretched on for miles and miles beyond the oath the carriages rode through. The weather had changed so much within only a few days. The temperature had been steadily declining as you’d traveled but despite the few layers of extra clothing you had to put on every now and then, you were truly surprised to see snow.

By now it was your seventh day of being in a carriage and you were so ready to get out of it for longer than a few hours of rest. Your crew was escorted throughout the city and another thing that caught you off guard was the crowds of people you saw gathered outside their homes and shops, all pointing at the royal vehicle you occupied.

You made sure to flash a few smiles and waves from your curtain-parted window, cheers and excited chatter heard even from the warm interior you rode so highly by in. You also took a mental note of how different the towns you rode through in the Northern kingdom were in comparison to the towns you not-so-sneakily visit so often back at home. 

Mixes of gray and brown mesh in with the clumps of snow gathered on each side of the paved road ahead, something so small yet so different in comparison to where you live. You don’t get snow so it’s truly a natural phenomenon you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from. 

In the towns, the snow was a mushy mess seemingly discarded to the roadsides. While up in the mountains or even deep into the forests, the snow remained mostly untouched by the hands of man—laying so sparklingly perfect in between tall trees completely void of leaves. 

When you finally started to approach the massive palace of destination, your eyes nearly tripled in size. Maybe it was because you’d been on the road for so long, or perhaps it was how long it’d been since you’d laid your eyes on a castle that’s not your own but… The Gojo Palace was absolutely massive. It had to be twice the size of your own, constructed into just a glorious piece of architecture that your eyes can hardly figure out where to focus.

Oh, and just in case it wasn’t obvious by now, yes, this was your first time visiting the Gojo Estate. Even though you’ve done your research on just about every other nation out there and know the palace was built many many years ago, it damn there shines and glimmers beneath the distant glow of the sun that casts its warmth down on it.

You feel like a kid in a candy store as the carriage pulls along past the absurdly large gates, parted open just for your arrival. Oh, it was so beautiful. If the palace itself paired with the clean spreads of snow wasn’t enough for you, then surely it was the arrangement of blue roses laid out along the courtyard path that caused your heart to thump in an even purer excitement.

As the wheels below and the hooves of horses ahead finally came to a stop, you were shuffling out of your seat faster than ever to race to the door. Luckily to you, your carriageman was popping your door wide open for you just as you readied to do so yourself. A gust of frosty cold air came bristling into the warm confines of the vehicle and you shivered a bit before taking Shiu’s offered hand and stepping out.

Yuki had been riding inside with you ever since that… night. But, she exited shortly after you, given how ecstatic you were to breathe some fresh air for the first time in hours. By the time she steps out and gets a chance to look at you, you’re rushing toward the nearest bed of roses available to you and inspecting them up close.

Your knight shudders beneath the cold air but warmth finds her internally as she, along with just about everyone else, watches you joyously run your fingers over the vibrant blue petals laid below. The ends of your dress and the short cloak-like jacket you have on are furred in white softness that keeps your body protected from the blaring cold that surrounds you.

But then again, you were too distracted with roses in a shade you’d never seen them in to notice the wind gusting over your face. The petals of each flower were as smooth as velvet to the touch and slipped so elegantly over your gloved fingers. 

Consumed by your admiration, you hardly notice as a pair of feet approach you until shoes meet your line of vision and you chuckle. “I suppose this is rather unladylike of me, huh?” You utter to who you assume is Higuruma based on the footwear.

“Unladylike isn’t the word I would use for it, Your Highness.” The man responds. Then the feet shift against the floor and you begin to lift your head to meet eyes with this person because that voice didn’t sound quite like Higuruma at all.

With your head lifted slightly, the man beside you comes to a crouch, mirroring how close you are to the ground. “Surprising, perhaps,” He continues, not quite yet placing his eyes on yours but instead looking down to the same plant you’d most recently touched. “But unladylike? Nah.”

When your gaze is met with a head of frosty-white hair, a side profile gorgeous enough to lead any woman to swoon on the spot, a tailored darkened navy-colored suit that’s embroidered with mixes of golds and light pastel blues, and the overwhelmingly familiar presence of Satoru Gojo, you nearly fall over.

Your jaw falls open as you rush to speak but he cuts you off with a curt turn of his head, dazzling azure eyes settling onto your features and leaving you completely speechless. “If I’d known you traveled all this way just to get distracted by some pretty flowers, I would’ve had them removed,” Gojo says to you lightly.

Batting your lashes at him, words still failing to leave your lips, you find yourself in awe. He has the face of an angel, every feature sculpted to perfection. Each and every detail was so clear—eyes deeper than any ocean you’ve ever seen, decorated by lashes prettier than any flower, delicate too, and the rest of his face was just…

You exhale so heavily that perspiration forms in the air. Gojo doesn’t fail to look down at your steadily parted lips and he smiles before averting his eyes. “That was a joke, by the way.” He hums, the tips of his ears a faint shade of pink. “I’m actually quite pleased to see you adore these roses so.”

“They’re gorgeous,” You manage out, earning his sharp gaze on you. “The roses, I mean. They are a delicacy to the eye, I haven’t been this twitterpated by flowers in a while.”

The corners of his lips curve and before you know it, he’s smiling at you. Gojo then nods his head to you slightly and his arm jerks a bit. You look down and notice he’s plucked the rose that bloomed the most, its petals laid out in pristine fashion. He then breaks a bit of the stem off and tucks it back into the bed below and then lifts his hand to you.

Your head pulls away as he nears you, “Are you seriously…”

“If you’ll allow me to,” Gojo hushes before sinking what's left of the rose’s stem into your hair. “I know it’s cliche but please, this shade of blue looks absolutely stunning on you.”

When his hand leaves your hair, you grin. “Does it?”

The prince in front of your scoffs, cocking his head back a bit, “Have you ever known me to lie?”

“A lot can change in two years, Satoru.” As soon as his name leaves you, you notice his entire expression shift.

Gojo hums to acknowledge your spoken words and then he pushes himself to stand up straight. His hand shoots down seconds later to help you to your feet, to which you accept and allow yourself to be tugged upright. Still holding your hand, he tips his head to the side and narrows his eyes at you.

“Damn right,” He murmurs beneath his breath. You feel it before you notice it but his gaze rakes over all of you. From your cloaked head to the ends of your fur-brimmed gown, Gojo takes in every bit of you just as you had him. Once finished, he leans forward and lifts your hand to his face.

Your eyes light up in a mix of surprise and amusement—watching as he pinches the fabric of your glove between two fingers and slips it right off of you just to press his chilly lips onto your bare skin. 

What’s one peck becomes two or three dangerous kisses that trail to your wrist before he shoots his eyes up to you and smirks, “You’ve changed quite a bit since I last saw you.”

A lighthearted scoff escapes you. “Is it safe to assume you mean that kindly?”

He straightens himself up and pulls your hand along with himself, causing your body to lull in closer to him. “Why of course, my lady.” Gojo winks, “I only mean to say that you’ve…”

You weigh nearer, “I’ve…?”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, “Grown even more stunning than I uh, remember.” Gojo finishes off,

Your brows shoot up questionably and a sly smirk preys upon your face, “Oh. Were my looks not memorable before—“

“No, no,” Gojo interjects, his eyes widening, “Y’know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what—“

“Sweetheart,” He sighs, “Can we just drop our formalities for a moment and will you please embrace me like you used to?”

You snort at how long it took him to ask you that. “You desire a hug?”

The prince nods, “I do.”

“Then initiate it—“ Before any more smugness can leave your mouth, he’s pulling you into his arms and his staggering frame is engulfing you. 

Toned arms wrap around your waist and his head pretty much buries itself into your neck as your arms wrap up around his and you both share a hug that has man onlookers gasping. Your relationship with Gojo has always treaded so very carefully along the borders of something scandalous and something completely harmless—something of which many, including yourselves, struggle to identify the truth beneath it all.

“I’ve quite missed this,” Gojo murmurs in between the most sensitive crevices of your neck, causing you to be a bit jumpy within his arms.

In an honest attempt to distract him from your sensitivity, you squeeze him a bit tighter, “‘Missed what? Hugging me or simply me?”

He inhales strongly and exhales through his mouth, “Both.” Gojo whispers in a dream-like sigh. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell like heaven on earth?” The man asks while prying his face away from your skin.

Both of you continue to hold one another as you get lost in casual conversation. “Something of the sort, yes. You,” Your hands slip from around his neck and down to his chest. Peering forward, you smile radiantly in the face of your old-time friend, “Prince Satoru, smell like the beach. Which is so peculiar considering…” You look around, “Where you live.”

Gojo picks up on the playfulness you display and instantly matches your energy, “You think we don’t have beaches?” He replies with a dramatic gasp.

As he does so, his hands leave your waist and return to your gloveless hand, motioning to glide the accessory back onto you.

Your eyes fall to his actions and something about this conversation is making your smile refuse to fade, “Do you?”

He’s quiet for a moment while working your glove back on and you can’t help but cling onto every lingering touch of his fingertips to your bare skin. Something so subtle and yet… It was like ever since that night with Yuki, you’ve been overly aware of every touch upon your skin. Or, hey, perhaps it was just him. 

You’ve always known Gojo to be quite touchy, after all. 

“...No.” He eventually mumbles out in response to your question prior.

Your smile widens in triumph, “I didn’t think so.”

“Whatever,” He keeps your hand cupped in his own and scoffs. Then, he lifts your fingers to his lips again and kisses your clothed knuckles, “But seriously, I did miss you.”

You eye down his kiss and unintentionally soften your gaze, “It wouldn’t have hurt to send a letter or two, y’know.”

Running his thumb across the curves of your knuckles, Gojo gives you a toothy smile along with another wink, “True but uh, that goes both ways, beautiful.”

Now, while your banter with Gojo carries on in ways concerning to few, your knight and royal advisor stood idly by—merely watching the scene unfold in front of them.

They find themselves standing at a distance, having backed away from you the moment they saw Gojo rushing out to be the first to greet you. Even his guards and knights stood at a distance, giving the two of you nothing but your own little bubble of security and privacy for as long as either of you willed it so. 

“Have they always been this close?” Yuki asks the man standing to her left.

Higuruma shrugs. “I am not sure. I know little about their relationship, believe it or not.”

Yuki scoffs, “Can’t you advise against all that uh…” Her eyes narrow in on the way Gojo’s yet to remove his hand from you—seemingly always having this need to touch you. “Contact.”

“It is not my place to do so, Lady Tsukumo.” Higuruma huffs casually, turning to her shortly after, “Though, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound rather jealo—”

“They’re walking away.” She cuts off.

Higuruma, along with a nearby and also idle Utahime, looks over to you and Gojo only to spot your arm looped and locked with one of his as he talks your ear off and walks with you toward the palace.

Utahime is the first to start pacing toward them, “Seems like someone forgot about us rather quickly…” She frowns to herself whilst carrying a few of your necessary items in her arms.

Yuki and Higuruma are frozen where they stand for reasons unknown but after you and Gojo are about halfway to the palace entry doors, their feet remember how to operate and they move to follow.

The sound of you laughing at something inaudible from Gojo can be heard and Higuruma’s shoulders slump, “This is going to be a loong day, Lady Tsukumo.”

“Tell me about it.” She scoffs.

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