#even though it was just casual conversation with no depth in it

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

Just ordered a copy of The Umbrella Conspiracy, checked out the samples and saw some Chris and Wesker interactions

Unsurprising that they both hate the chief lmao love to see it

Chris' thoughts about Wesker are interesting, he sensed Wesker's detachment back then.

[fromgoy2joy]

Let's write about Jewish characters in dynamic ways- that make it clear "Yes this is us. Yes, we are living our lives with this happiness and ritual, and we love it. "

Like it's so easy to write about, to have casual observances of Judaism and cultural practices be in the background of stories. I'll write of the few examples I can think of in my frame of reference as a college student-

there's a mezuza in the doorway of a college kid's apartment. Whenever his friends come over, it's a reach for some of them to touch it because both he and the rabbi who installed it are 6 foot three. The others feel like a middle school boy slapping the ceiling as they try and reach for the damn thing.

Characters rush on public transport to get to a rabbi's house on shabbat. The train is due. There's a flurry of regrouping, then trying to call a missing friend to get there, and then the process of methodically hiding Magen davids and jewish objects because getting to shabbat dinner without a situation was an order from college Hillel staff.

A character is half-drunk at 2 AM at the convenience store but has to scan the list of ingredients on their chemically disgusting snack for gelatin.

Said character is prevented by her friends from only sustaining herself on 7/11 slushees "even though it's all kosher!"

There are references to the Purim incident constantly- it is never clarified what happened on Purim.

the hypothetical gang of characters are in the middle of nowhere on a grand magical adventure. The main character notices a mezuza on a door of a cabin, knocks on it, and has an in-depth conversation with the resident. Then, he waves his friends over. "Hey, guys! We have a place to stay tonight!" Because through the magic of Jewish geography, it was discovered that the grumpy old Jewish man in the woods is the grand uncle of one of his Jewish Day school teachers

A character who eats cheesy bacon bagels regularly on passover has a deep respect for jewish ritual items. He kisses the siddurim as they're handed back into a pile, he always kisses his kippah that he wears for ritual purposes of shabbats and minions. He's very careful with these objects and keeps on claiming dropping something He is observant, and he cares so much, but not in the "typical" way. Just... please show the nuance in practice.

The big "going out night" for our fearless college student isn't Friday but saturday night because of shabbat.

The stain on the rabbi's couch is not to be mentioned

A character keeps on mentioning the stain anyway.

Jewish goodbyes after any event take a minimum of two hours and that's why the gang is delayed on their journey to save the world .

I want more representation than characters in novels saying "haha I'm jewish but eat bacon and love Christmas!" in such flat ways. Please feel free to add more hypothetical ways of representation in the comments !!! About or inspired by your own life and experiences ! Let's make this post vibrant!

[lockefanfic]

City of Light

The following is Chapter 10 in the Toy series, but it can (mostly) be read on its own. 🙂

15,477 words.

---

Even in the darkness of near-midnight, Paris was still beautiful.

The sparkling lights contrasted sharply against the decades and sometimes centuries-old buildings they illuminated. Even as you flew by them in the hired van, the weight of history was nonetheless impressed upon you by almost every structure you passed on your way to the hotel.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hirai Momo says, softly, as though she were talking to herself. You turn to find her similarly entranced by Paris’ lights, even as they painted her soft features in blue and white.

“It is,” you agree, as you return to watching large, particularly ornate buildings fly by your window.

“Some of these buildings must be centuries old,” she continues, her voice surprising you with its depth and thoughtfulness. “How many people have been inside them? How many stories have started and ended in their walls? Kind of crazy to think about. Feels like history is right there outside this window, passing us by.”

It was the kind of statement you’d expected from one of the more introspective members of Twice, but admittedly not from Momo, whom you’d assumed didn’t really give much thought to things like the histories of cities and the stories of the people within them. When she turns to give you a look she lets a slim smile play across her lips, as though she were proud of herself for having surprised you the way she did.

“What?” she prods.

“Nothing,” you answer, “It’s just…”

“Just that that was something you’d expect one of the other girls to say? One of the… smarter ones? Mina or Jeongyeon or… Chaeyoung?”

You are taken aback by how forward she was being - your conversations with her over the past few months were casual at best, and rare outside of the bedroom. Truth be told, though, she wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“Well, yes,” you admit.

“Figured,” she says. There is the slightest hint of disappointment in her tone as she turns back towards the glittering lights flying by the vehicle. “You’re not the only one that would think so.”

She doesn’t seem open to continuing the conversation, and so you leave her be. You ponder her words in silence for the rest of the trip, feeling suddenly guilty for having assumed so much about the young woman next to you.

---

The check-in process at the hotel was relatively painless, much to your relief. You’d come to realize that many of the high-end hotels the girls regularly stayed in had staff on hand that were fluent in English, saving you from having to rely on your high-school level French and a translator app.

The elevator you occupied with Momo opens its doors on the fifth floor, where your room was located. The company had splurged on a penthouse suite for Momo, as it often did with its performers. Despite this, the hotel as a whole was still one of the higher-end ones in Paris, and you were looking forward to grabbing some room service and much-needed sleep in a fancier room than you were accustomed to.

“The makeup people will be here early,” you say with a sigh as you grab your wheeled luggage and get ready to vacate the elevator. It was well past midnight now, and you both had a long, important day ahead of yourselves with Momo’s appearance at a fashion show. “I can give you a call around six, make sure you’re awake-”

Momo stops you, her hand grasping your forearm while you are halfway out of the elevator.

“You’re the only manager here,” she says, matter-of-factly. “So you’re all mine for this trip, aren’t you?”

You find a smile on her lips, and you quickly return it. You knew what she meant, both with her words and the look that accompanied it.

Truth be told, you had settled more into the managerial side of your “job” in the past month or two, and this week-long trip and Momo’s appearances at two fashion shows, five days apart, was your first time as the sole on-site manager with one of the girls. While you were still on-call for the girls’ more physical needs, you also knew this trip was an opportunity to really make something of yourself at the company beyond just being entertainment for the girls. As such, you found that you were more focused than usual at making sure it went off without a hitch.

But as serious as you were about making sure the trip went smoothly from a corporate point of view, you weren’t one to turn down an invitation, particularly when it was shaped like Hirai Momo.

“Of course, Momo,” you relent, stepping back into the elevator and hitting the button for the top floor.

---

Jetlag was a bitch, though.

Momo had decided to take a shower after you’d both entered the luxurious penthouse suite - and you were powerless to resist the call of the luxurious, expensive-looking couch that dominated the suite’s living area. A short nap while Momo unpacked and undressed, you thought, just a quick rest for your eyes, then you’d get up, sneak into the shower with her and give her the pounding of a lifetime-

The alarm on your smartwatch jerks you awake four hours later.

You wipe the sleep from your eyes as you groggily swing your legs down from the couch. The light emanating from the open bathroom door informed you of Momo’s presence in it, and so you drag yourself from the soft, warm, comforting couch to check on her.

“Have a good nap?” she says, even before you fully enter the ridiculously large bathroom. She shoots you a small smile in the oversized vanity mirror, and you manage to return it despite the sleep still lingering in the corners of your eyes.

The smile lingers on her lips as she watches you for a moment longer before returning her attention to the bathroom counter. Before her are an array of cosmetics that made up her daily skincare routine, and she fiddles with the small plastic containers and vials, apparently searching for something.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you admit, rubbing your face with both palms as you lean against the bathroom’s doorframe. “I just can’t get any sleep on planes.” Your first-class seats meant you were admittedly more comfortable than you’d ever been on a flight, but your inability to sleep on planes still resulted in fifteen hours of restlessness. Momo, being well-used to such luxuries, slept like a baby, which explained her high energy levels despite dawn being an hour or so away.

“I even left the bathroom and shower door open,” she admits, smile turning sly even as the elusive cosmetic continues to evade her. “Didn’t think you’d miss the invitation.”

The implication underlying her words stir something in you, and you step into the bathroom, drawing close to her. She smells softly like vanilla, and the sweet scent of her still-damp hair finally shakes the last cobwebs of sleep from your brain.

She loosens the neckline of her white bathrobe slightly to dab something against the soft skin of her neck and upper chest. The generous cleavage she reveals is unmissable in the mirror, still moist from the shower. Rivulets of water stream down her perfect, creamy skin. You reach around her torso, placing a hand softly on the knot of her bathrobe.

“Is this another invitation?”

Her gaze remains locked on herself in the mirror as she continues to dab the small cotton pad against the soft skin of her neck, although the smile curls into a mischievous one. You both linger there for a moment in silence - she must’ve taken pleasure in leaving you in suspense - until she finally decides she’d teased you enough. She places the cotton pad back on the counter, finding your gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

Without breaking your gaze, she undoes the bathrobe’s knot at her waist, pulling its folds apart to reveal her nakedness beneath. Round breasts, toned stomach, long, perfect legs - but it’s her eyes that draw you in. Round, full, somewhere between cute and lustful. Irresistible, either way.

You step close, planting your first soft kiss on the newly revealed skin of her neck. Your arms wrap around her body, your fingers finding her flat, toned stomach, and placing your palm flat against it, enjoying the feel of the slightly quickened pace of her breathing at this first intimate touch between you. Her scent, the feel of her skin beneath your palms, the small gasp she makes as you place a kiss behind her ear - it’s all so alluring, so intoxicating.

Her skin is warm, moist beneath your lips and your hands. Beads of water from her shower trace a path down her neck, past the round curves of her naked breasts, and onto the flat plane of her stomach.

“You’re still wet, Momo,” you whisper into her ear. She sighs softly. You drink in the sight of her closing her eyes in the mirror, canting her head to the side slightly to reveal more of her neck to your lips.

“You have no idea,” she whispers, softly. After a few more kisses on her neck, she turns her head so she is looking over her shoulder at you. You share a kiss, and the touch of her lips on yours is pure electricity. 

She grasps the hand you’d placed atop her stomach, and drags it down her body. Your kiss deepens when your fingertips brush against the wet, warm heat between her legs.

She was right - she was dripping.

She lets a low, slow moan escape her lips as your fingertips graze the soft, warm flesh between her thighs, your middle finger tracing a slow path upward from the base of her opening to its tip, collecting her plentiful juices on the way.

“Since you refrained from joining me in the shower, I had to get myself started,” she says, softly, eyes still shut softly. Her lips have parted slightly, warm breaths of pleasure leaving them with each soft stroke your fingertips make between her legs.

“Sorry, Momo. Let me take care of you.”

She smiles to herself.

“You’re all mine this trip,” she says, softly, as her eyes slowly drift open, finding you staring at her reflection over her shoulder. Between her legs, your ring finger joins your middle one, tracing slow, careful strokes up and down her opening - barely penetrating, carefully spreading the lips of her pussy apart, preparing her for what was to come.

“All yours,” you say against the back of her ear, breathlessly.

“No other toys, no other girls. Just you and me. All mine, just mine.”

“Yes, Momo,” you gasp, suddenly short of breath. The feel of her slick pussy on your fingertips, that tight, hot body pressed against yours - it was so much to take in. “I’m yours,” you say, “whenever, however you want.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I am, Momo. I’m yours.”

She grasps your other hand from where it is clutching her hip, and draws it up her torso until it is cupping a full, round breast. Almost on reflex, you capture her taut nipple between your index finger and thumb. She sighs in your arms as you squeeze her breast and tease the nipple atop it, enjoying the heavy weight of it in your hand.

“I don’t believe it,” she repeats, turning her head again to kiss you. Your lips find each other, tongues not long after. Her body writhes like liquid in your arms. Her cunt leaks her juices onto your fingers and between them.

“I am,” you manage to say, between kisses that were quickly becoming heated, more intense. “I’m yours.”

The kiss continues. You’d kissed her before, of course, but never this passionately, never with this much intensity or intimacy behind it. 

“Prove it, then,” she says, breaking the kiss just long enough to get the words out from between your mouths. For the first time since you’d entered the bathroom you look directly into her eyes, and not through the reflection.

Dark brown, round, filled with an intensity that takes you by surprise with its depth. 

“Momo,” you say, unable to really conjure up more than her name. You can feel yourself being lost to her, feel yourself losing your higher faculties and becoming a simple-minded slave to your base needs. “I’m yours,” you repeat.

“We’ll see,” she relents, even as she brushes her nose and then her lips against yours, teasing a kiss that never comes. “But I still have my doubts. I think you’ll have to fuck them out of me.”

That’s it - that’s what snaps the last vestiges of your self control. You crush her lips with yours, driving them against hers with so much force that it might have hurt her - not that she cared, not when she wanted the same thing. 

Your fingers tighten around her nipple, pulling and twisting, squeezing the soft flesh of her breast in your palm. Lower, your fingertips slide inside her.

She moans into your kiss, lips breaking contact for just a second to fill the bathroom with the sound of her pleasure. The kiss continues for a moment more, but she breaks it again when your fingers slide inside her to the hilt.

Her eyes drift slowly open, holding your gaze, even though your faces are touching, your noses and lips brushing against each other as you finger her slowly, sliding your fingers in and out of her slick, hot cunt. Your eyes remained locked on each other as you continue to finger fuck the young woman in your arms.

You’d fucked her before, roughly, sometimes with one or more others sharing the same bed, or couch, or shower. You’d seen her in the throes of orgasm as she’d cum on your cock, heard her spit filth into your ears, watched her as she’d lain there a sweaty, cum-filled mess after one of your sessions - but you’ve never seen her like this. Those were rushed, hard, messy sessions driven entirely by basic lust; this was something else entirely. Momo had never looked so soft, never looked so vulnerable. 

It never felt so intimate.

“Mmm, fuck,” she gasps, “that feels so good.”

“I’ll take care of you, Momo,” you say, the words leaving your mouth almost faster than you knew you were saying them, your desires working faster than your brain. “I’ll take care of you this trip. I’m yours. I’ll make you cum, as much as you want.”

“Do it, please,” she replies, eyes fluttering, body writhing in your grasp. The hand over yours on her breast tightens. She begins to quiver, legs losing their strength as the pleasure builds between her legs.

“Please,” she continues. “Make me cum.”

Your hand leaves her breast, wrapping around her torso, pressing her back against your chest. Her eyes dart open for a moment, finding yours in the mirror’s reflection. Her lower lip curls under a tooth as your fingers move inside her.

Her eyes shut again when they find the right spot.

She moans, and the warm, lovely sound that leaves her throat bounces off the hard marble and glass of the bathroom, filling your ears with her pleasure. It increases in pitch and frequency as your fingers work between her legs - slowly building in pace, not too fast, not too much all at once. Just a slow, steady increase. 

Her legs are jelly now, the arm you’d wrapped beneath her breasts doing more and more to hold her up against you than her limbs did. She reaches back with a hand to grasp your scalp. She arches her back, throws the back of her head against your shoulder as you pleasure her.

Her reflection in the mirror is sex - that perfect body of hers, perfectly shaped, perfectly fit, just perfect - writhing and quivering in your arms. And her face - my god, her face - wracked with pleasure, eyes shut and brow furrowed, mouth agape as it spills a chorus of moans and sighs from her lips.

Between her legs, she is so wet, so slick that her juices are running between your fingers, staining your palm the back of your hand, some of it dripping down to the cold marble in heavy drops as she makes a mess of you and the floor beneath her.

“Cum for me, Momo,” you hiss. Your lips are pressed against the soft skin behind her ear and while your words weren’t very loud, the effect they have on her is obvious. She tightens around your fingers, begins to pulsate. Her moans reach a new pitch.

“Cum for me, Momo,” you repeat, fingers merciless between her legs. You maintain your pace, no longer moving any faster inside her, simply staying at that speed and tempo. You knew she was right there, right on that delicious edge when building pleasure threatened to become an orgasm. You wanted her to stay there, even as your words tease her, tempt her into throwing herself over it.

“Mmm, no, don’t want to yet,” she says, the words tumbling from her drooling lips in a half-drunken slur, “no, don’t want to cum yet, want, oh fuck, want to, fuck, want to stay here, it feels so good, just like this, just like that-”

“Cum for me,” you snap. “Cum on my hand.”

“No, please, fuck, just a little longer please, don’t want to cum yet-”

You let her have her way - for a few moments more. You savor the sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her entire body is trembling. Her fingers are claws - one digging into your scalp behind her, the other on your forearm. What a sight; you want to freeze it, want to sear it into your memory for a lonely day.

“Yes, yes, so good,” she pants. Saliva drips from the corner of a slack mouth. She is a slave to the pleasure emanating from her cunt. She’s helpless, teetering on the precipice of a pit she wasn’t sure she wanted to fall into, not when the simple danger of it was so wonderful, when the threat of cumming so hard was so hard felt almost as good as actually cumming, when she felt so close to something she wasn’t sure she wanted, not yet, not when she felt so utterly-

“Cum for me, Momo.”

When she cums it is almost violent, the way the entirety of her body shakes and quivers and trembles in your arms. Her legs give way, until only your arm around her torso and fingers inside her cunt keep her upright. She tightens almost unbearably around your fingers. Her moans cut out momentarily, but only for a second, because when she finds her voice again the sound that leaves her throat is nothing short of a shriek.

You hold her close through it all, not moving your fingers inside her, simply holding her upright and letting her ride the waves of pleasure as they crash against her.

It takes a few minutes for her to recover. Longer than usual, not that you minded watching the unbearably beautiful, near-naked woman in your arms recover from one of the strongest orgasms you’d ever given her. She is wet, sweaty, slick. Flushed and pink, breathing heavily. Dripping sex, figuratively and literally.

While she is still recovering, you push forward slightly with your upper body until she finds the strength to brace herself against the counter with quivering arms. Then, placing soft kisses on the back of her neck, you slip your fingers from inside her. They emerge wet and sticky from her cunt.

You bring them to her mouth. 

She begins to lick them clean. Eyes still drunk with pleasure, they manage to find yours in the mirror’s reflection. Her tongue gathers her own slick juices, slurps them up as best she can, licking up and down the length of your fingers and between them. She gets her juices onto her chin and cheeks, making them glisten with her wetness. Her eyes never leave yours.

“Fuck me now,” she says, half-moan, half-sigh as the last vestiges of her orgasm course through her veins. She swipes one last time at the juices that stain your fingers. “Fuck me like I want. Like you want. Fuck your cum into me.”

You slip your hand from her mouth, and she sighs at the absence of them. You strip the bathrobe from her shoulders, finally leaving her naked. Perfection in female form, all curves and perfect skin, marred only by sweat and spit and her own juices. Her eyes have never once left yours, locked on yours in the mirror’s reflection, until she turns over her shoulder to look at you directly.

She leans over the counter, arches her back, spreads her legs slightly. Her leaking cunt drips her juices onto the floor between you.

No further words. A few moments pass as you quickly undo the knot at your joggers and pull them down to your knees, revealing your aching, stiffened cock. You step forward, pressing her against the counter. One of your hands reaches out and squeezes a firm cheek of her ass, before sliding up her spine, fingertips tracing a path along the delicious curve there and resting on her shoulder.

Your free hand brings your tip to her dripping cunt. A stroke forward with your hips, and you’re inside Hirai Momo to the hilt.

Her pussy is tight, wet, slick - the feel of her body wrapped around your cock is sublime. Her ass is wide and full, her waist tiny, spine delightfully arched and shoulders possessing the right amount of tone - the sight of her bent over the bathroom counter, fully impaled on your cock, was enthralling, made you shiver with pleasure.

But it’s her face, her reflection in the bathroom mirror, that takes the cake. Her eyes, shut to relish the feel of being filled with your stiffness, slowly drift open before finding and holding your gaze. Her mouth opens to sigh at the feeling of fullness, that wonderful stretch inside her, before her tongue darts out to lick her lips. She says something, and you don’t hear it, but the message on her lips is easy to read, undeniable.

“Fuck me,” she mouths. 

You slip your cock out of her halfway. The lips of her pussy clutch tightly to your shaft, not wanting to let it go. You glisten with her slick juices. 

One stroke, then two. A third, a fourth. A slow build up of pace and depth and force. She takes it, letting small grunts and sighs punctuate each thrust you make into her body. Her arms brace herself against the counter. Her upper arms bring her breasts together, creating a delicious looking cleavage as they begin to be rocked back and forth with each impact of your hips on hers.

You tighten your grip on her, fixing her, keeping her still, rendering her unable to do anything else other than simply take each thrust you give her tight, wet little cunt.

You reach the rhythm you want, where you are fucking her, giving her long, smooth strokes of your cock. Her sighs turn into soft moans as she settles into your rhythm, matches it with her own with small movements of her hips, driving herself back at you, making each thrust that much more pleasurable for both of you.

You let your gaze wander. Everywhere you look is something you want to never forget - the round cheeks of her ass, her slim waist, even the soft curls and waves in her hair as they are plastered to her neck and upper back with sweat. And in the mirror, more; the dangling, bouncing mounds of her breasts and the tight nipples atop them, that lovely face of hers, soft features twisted and contorted with pleasure in the most beautiful way possible.

“Harder,” she says, softly. You oblige.

You reach forward, grasp her upper arms in your palms. You pull backward, lifting her upper body up off the counter, arching her back.

You resume fucking her.

She yelps at the first few thrusts in this position. She’s truly helpless now, fingers turning into claws as they helplessly search for something to hold on to and find nothing. Her breasts bounce wildly in the mirror, the large, round mounds impacted forcefully with each thrust you make into her cunt. They would be sore later, but she wouldn’t care, not if future soreness was the price to be paid for immediate pleasure.

She throws her hair back, sending sable hair flying. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her mouth slackens, able to do no more than moan and sigh. Saliva drips from the corner of her mouth, down her chin as she is fucked, hard, stretched cunt filled again and again with your cock.

You tighten your grip on her upper arms, pulling back slightly until she is almost upright. Throughout it all you are fucking her, pounding her tight little pussy, making her feel everything, giving her everything. Your brow furrows with the effort, your teeth grit. 

“You’re so fucking tight, Momo,” you grunt, “such a tight little cunt.”

“Mmmmm, fuck--!” is the response from a breathless mouth. You up the pace. She takes it all, and every wordless moan that leaves her mouth at the peak of each thrust is proof that she loved each one. You fuck her hard, roughly. You take liberties with her body, using her cunt as you wanted, momentarily forgetting that you were there to serve her - and she loves every moment of it.

You’re the first to relent - as much as you wanted to fuck the young woman into oblivion in that position your arms simply couldn’t take much more. You release her upper arms, leaving clear marks on her fair skin, before sliding them up her torso. You cup her tender breasts in each hand, squeezing the heavy mounds, caressing and pinching her taut nipples. She cups her hands over yours. 

“Mmmm, so fucking big,” she gasps. “So fucking big inside me, fucking me so good - and all for me, all mine.”

You bury your mouth in the side of her neck.

“All yours, Momo. I’m gonna fuck this little cunt, your mouth, your ass - all your holes, whenever you want. This cock belongs to you. I’ll take care of you, baby girl. I’ll take care of this body of yours.”

“Yes!” she gasps. “Yes. All mine. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re all mine, gonna, gonna fucking cum on your cock.”

You up your pace, but only slightly, just enough to make your impending orgasms that much more wonderful. The slap of wet skin on wet skin fills the bathroom. You let go of her breasts, but your hands don’t leave her, wandering to her hips, her ass, her shoulders - anywhere that let you hold her, grip her, tie her down. Anywhere that you could touch and squeeze. 

“Gonna cum, baby,” Momo says to your reflection in the mirror. “Gonna cum on your cock.”

“Fuck, me too, Momo.”

“Cum in me, okay? Give me your cum. I want-”

Her sentence is interrupted with a long, drawn out moan as she nears her orgasm.

“What do you want, Momo? Tell me. Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.”

“I want, I want-”

You continue to fuck her. She’s so close, right on the edge once more, and you’re not far off. Your cock fills her cunt again and again and again and she’s losing her grip, and you’re losing yours, and the whole world means nothing aside from the pussy wrapped around your cock, her perfect body and bouncing breasts, the words leaving the girl’s mouth-

“I want- oh fuck, I want---”

“Fuck, Momo-”

“I want your cum inside me,” she spits, finally, right on the edge of cumming. “Cum inside me. Just for me.”

She cums, and you do too.

You have to hold her down, lest the full-body spasm that wracks her pulls you off your cock before you’d had the chance to fill her with cum. With one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder you pin her down, pushing her over the bathroom counter until her head and upper chest are pressed against the mirror. One, two more thrusts and you bury yourself inside her, your cock spasming, filling her hot, messy cunt with warm, thick cum.

Your world explodes. Her world shatters into a million pieces. Either way, for a few beautiful seconds you’re both powerless. There is only the pleasure coursing through your bodies.

You grip her hip and shoulder so tightly you are afraid for a moment that you’ll bruise her delicate skin. And for a moment, you didn’t care if you did. All you wanted was to hold her spasming, quivering body still while you filled it with cum.

You both lie there, frozen, for a while - whatever a ‘while’ meant when your respective orgasms rendered your mutual concept of time meaningless. Your hands caress her body, sliding up and down her sides, squeezing a firm ass cheek or round, flushed breast, enjoying the feel of shower water and sweat and other juices beneath your hands. You feel hazy, drunk on pleasure, and everything takes on a blurred, unreal appearance, as though you were still asleep on the couch, and this was the sweetest dream you’d ever had.

A knock on the door is what brings reality crashing back into existence.

You both freeze - you’re still hilt deep inside her creamy, messy pussy. You find her eyes, still filled with a post-orgasm haze, in the reflection.

“The makeup staff,” you say, with a surprising, odd amount of clarity. “They’re here,” you add, as though it were some new bit of information that could shed further light on the ridiculous situation you’d both found yourselves in.

Momo squirms beneath you, but doesn’t move any further. She makes a small whimpering sound. It’s you that moves first when the second knock comes, easing yourself out of her cunt. Thick drops of cum and her juices drip onto the floor, and her whimper turns into a soft, low moan as she feels your cock leave her.

“I need to take another shower,” Momo says, softly, the pleasure still coursing through her body still making her feel high, feel drunk. “Tell them I woke up late. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” you agree, taking a moment to grab one of the hand towels off the rack and giving yourself a quick clean before bending to wipe the evidence of your act from the marble floor.

You pull your pants back up, and Momo sheepishly steps toward the shower on wobbly legs.

You are turning to make your way to answer the door when she stops you with a hand on your upper arm. When you turn, she plants a kiss on your lips.

“Thanks,” she says, before flashing you that smile of hers and hopping back into the shower. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks like a mess, but she is glowing.

You find a smile making its way onto your face as you turn to deal with the makeup artists.

---

She was bathed in light again.

This time the lights came from dozens of photographer flashes, each one belonging to a competitor vying for the best shot, the perfect visual capture of the young woman at the center of everyone’s attention. She relishes the moment, doing her best to pose the way they want, the way she knows will show off the best sides of her - not that there was any particular side that outweighed the others, because truth be told, Hirai Momo looked amazing from all angles.

“Fuck she’s hot,” Minnie says.

“Yeah,” you agree, your eyes not leaving the girl who was the center of attention of almost everyone else at the party.

“That fit - damn, not just anyone can pull that off.”

“I think you’d look fine in it.”

“Please,” Minnie scoffs, “don’t patronize me. There’s a reason why the cameras are pointed at her, and not me.”

“Yeah, you look like a real three day old bag of garbage,” you tease. You turn to her for the first time to flash her a smile, and she rewards you with a soft punch to the upper arm. In a similarly all-denim fit, Minnie looked pretty captivating in her own right, albeit in a more subdued, cute school classmate kind of way.

“I’m no slouch,” she admits as she takes a sip from her champagne flute, “but I look like a cardboard cutout compared to those curves.”

As much as you liked Minnie - she was close friends with several of the girls and thus you saw and interacted with her frequently - you couldn’t disagree with her. Momo’s all-denim fit, consisting of wide cut jeans and a halter top that was essentially a triangle of denim strapped to her chest that left her back bare, certainly put all those curves on full display.

You are both admiring Momo from afar when an older, well-dressed gentleman approaches you. Next to you Minnie straightens up and puts on her best smile, but she receives only a courtesy nod of the head from the newcomer.

“Excuse me,” he begins, in British-accented english that reminded you a bit of the way noblemen spoke in period pieces. “Am I correct in assuming that you’re Miss Hirai’s company handler?”

“Yes,” you answer, wondering for the millionth time at the series of ridiculous events that led to you being able to answer ‘yes’ to such a question.

The gentleman reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve a business card, on which he scribbles something onto the back with a fancy looking fountain pen. He passes it to you, and you take a note of the company logo on the front of it - one of the higher-end brands in the fashion industry, that was for sure.

“I’d welcome the opportunity to meet with someone in your company regarding a business arrangement with Miss Hirai,” he begins. “My personal number is on the back of the card, should she wish to conduct that meeting… personally.”

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Minnie give a scoff under her breath before turning away and taking another sip of her champagne. You succeed a little better than her in hiding your disgust behind a smile.

You’d had your suspicions about the man from the second he approached, and his words only confirm them to be accurate. You had no doubt he did indeed represent the company he claimed to work for, but the generally slimy, greasy aura about him rubbed you the wrong way.

“I’ll make sure someone at the company contacts you,” you respond. “Have a good night, sir.”

He seems a little surprised at your curt reply and abrupt dismissal - this was a man not used to being rejected. Regardless, he manages a tart nod towards both you and Minnie before he scurries off into the crowd.

“What a piece of shit,” Minnie says under her breath, the second his back is turned - perhaps she’d wanted him to hear it. She was nothing if not honest with her feelings.

You nod in agreement as you turn the business card over in your hand, glossing over the number scribbled onto the back.

“Still,” Minnie continues, “that’s a fucking top-tier brand. She’d look pretty good in their stuff, not to mention what it’ll do for her career.”

“I’m not going to-”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she says, cutting you off. “There’s no way in hell I’d let her anywhere near that guy. But if you take it to the company maybe they can work something out - something that doesn’t involve slimeball execs luring models back to their hotel rooms in exchange for promises.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you agree, your gaze returning to Momo, who was beginning to signal to her audience of admirers that she was ready to end the little impromptu photo session. If the photographers picked up on her hints, they didn’t show it - the lights continue to flash, and they continue to call her name in hopes that she’d turn to give them the angle they were looking for.

“Anyway, since there aren’t any high-end brand slimeballs hitting on me, I’ll be in the corner getting wasted on free champagne,” Minnie says with a sarcastic but warm smile. You return it - she was a sweetheart, and you hoped to see more of her.

“See you around, Minnie.”

She gives your upper arm a squeeze and shoots you a smile and a wink before heading towards another corner of the room, where several other idols and celebrities in attendance were congregating.

You stand there alone for a few more minutes while Momo wraps up.  She gives everyone small, polite bows and waves as she slowly makes her way towards you, having finally broken free of the throng of admirers and the incessantly flashing lights that accompanied them.

“Who was the creepy old dude?” she asks.

“This guy,” you answer, handing her the card. She makes an intrigued face at the logo on the front before flipping it over and noticing the number on the back. Her curiosity turns into an unamused smirk.

“If you want,” you begin, “we can pretend we never got that card.”

“No, the company will want to know about this,” she answers, with more than a hint of disappointment. “This could be a pretty cool opportunity.”

“I suppose. But you’re sure as hell not dialling that number and meeting with him alone.”

She smiles up at you. Her eyes glimmer in the light of some far-off camera flash.

“Really? Are you going to protect an innocent, naive little girl like me from creepy old execs that want to take advantage of her?”

You smile, and she covers her mouth for a moment to hide her giggle.

“He wouldn’t be the first geezer to think I’d suck his dick and spread my legs just because one of his assistants sends me a bag with a fancy logo on it,” she admits, her giggle fading quickly and turning into a forlorn glance at the card in her hand. “Probably won’t be the last. One of the drawbacks of being super hot, y’know?”

Despite the sarcasm in her tone and the weak smile on her lips, there is a sadness in her eyes that breaks your heart a little.

“Here,” she says, handing you the card with a dispirited look. “You should probably make sure someone in Business Development at the company gets that.”

You draw closer to her and take the card from her hands. You tear it in half.

She looks up at you, the surprise on her face becoming a sweet smile. There is genuine appreciation there, along with something else you couldn’t quite name.

“I appreciate it, I really do,” she says, softly, before returning to a sarcastic tone. “But, like, they’re a pretty big brand. I never want to see that dude ever again, but I like their stuff, so maybe someone from the company can call their company…”

“I can probably… tape it back together?” you say, sheepishly fiddling with the two halves of the card and making a show of trying to piece the two parts together.

Momo giggles again, and amidst the loudness of the event, it sounds like music. “You’re too sweet,” she says, with a warm smile, before she draws close to whisper into your ear.

“And just for the record,” she says, “it’s your cum inside me, your cum that’s dripping down my leg. I don’t want anyone else’s. I just want more of yours.”

She leaves you there, speechless, for a moment that seems longer than it really was. She bites her lip, the slightest bit of ivory poking into soft pink, before sliding her tongue across it.

“C’mon,” she says, finally, motioning towards a corner of the room where Minnie is flagging down another flute of champagne from a passing server. “Can’t let Minnie get wasted all on her own. She’s tiny - so she doesn’t hold her alcohol very well.”

“Right,” you answer, slipping the two halves of the card into your jacket pocket. You’d make sure the guys in Business Development knew to avoid that particular executive when approaching their company. 

On your way to Minnie, Momo tugs at your jacket sleeve.

“Hey,” she says, eyes locked on yours, thoughtful look on her features. “Thanks. Again.”

“You’re welcome. I’m yours this week, remember?”

She pulls away, gives you a thoughtful look over her shoulder, and leads you both to where her friend is polishing off her fourth flute.

---

The Eiffel Tower shone like a golden spear, a beacon against the darkness, a monument to man’s mastery over light.

Unlike other monumental towers in other world-class cities, which were often nestled amidst downtown skyscrapers and other buildings, the Eiffel Tower stands alone and unchallenged against the Paris skyline. That made it difficult to miss, and impossible to ignore.

It is a fact you were thankful for. It gave you something to focus on, something to distract you, if even from a moment, from the woman between your knees.

The simple deck chair you are sitting on squeaks in protest as the pleasure slowly building in your body causes you to squirm atop it. Between your spread legs, Momo smiles around a mouthful of your cock as she slowly eases it from between her wet lips.

“Does that feel good, baby?” she asks, knowing full well what your answer would be. But she asks it anyway, because she wants to hear the answer, wants to hear your praise, wants to hear just how much every little move she made was affecting your body.

“It feels fucking amazing, Momo,” you answer, knowing that no amount of profanity could possible emphasize enough how you felt in that moment.

“Good,” she replies, returning her attention to your cock, planting small, soft, almost chaste kisses along its length. She cradles it with her left hand as she continues her kisses down your shaft, placing a few softer ones on each of your dangling balls.

You reach out, run your fingers through her hair. She raises her head from under your shaft and nuzzles against your palm. Her eyes drift closed for a moment and a smile perks up the corners of her mouth as she enjoys the feel of your skin on hers. The hand on your cock begins to pump slowly up and down your length.

“Just enjoy it, okay babe?” she says, softly, eyes drifting open to lock onto yours. “Let me know when you get close - pinch my arm - and I’ll slow down. I’ll go slow. I want it to last. I want it to feel good.”

“Okay,” you answer. Momo gives you a sultry smile before returning to her work.

Her mouth is sublime - warm, wet, tight - that skilled tongue of hers playing around your head at the apex of each movement, pressed against the underside of your cock on the downstroke. Her hand matches her movements, pumping up and down in time with the movements of her lips and tongue.

You feel the pleasure building, and so you return your attention to the Eiffel Tower.

You wonder for a moment at the sheer scale of it, and how such an impressive structure was created without the construction technology of today. You weren’t really sure when it was built - perhaps early in the 1900s? The late 1800s? Regardless of its actual date of construction you knew it must’ve been a long and difficult process without today’s cranes and Momo’s tongue sliding along the underside of the head of your cock, sending another spike of pleasure coursing up your spine-

That deserved a pinch on her arm.

You can almost feel her smile around your cock as she slows down her pace significantly. Her tongue doesn’t pressed as tightly against your shaft, having momentarily retreated from the offensive it was waging on the tip of your cock. You let a sigh escape your lips.

Back to the Eiffel Tower - gee, the electricity bill on it must be staggering. You were a few kilometers away from it, but from here it seemed like every inch of it was illuminated in some way. It glimmered as though it were made of fine gold and brilliant silver. 

It must’ve cost quite a bit to have it lit up like it was, every night. But it was probably a cost that the residents of Paris bore proudly - it was the fucking Eiffel Tower, after all. If you’d had something as iconic in your backyard you’d bet you’d be lighting it up as much as you could. 

The very tip of the tower contained some sort of slowly rotating searchlight that sent parallel spears of light out into the darkness, as though being a giant lit-up tower of solid gold wasn’t enough to draw your attention to it and Momo’s doing it again, capturing the head of your cock between her lips before swirling the very tip of her tongue around its head and under the sensitive ridge where it met the rest of your shaft. With her right hand she begins to fondle your balls with a light touch; her left hand continues to pump up and down your length and oh my god-

Yeah, a definite pinch on her arm.

She lets your cock leave her lips, and you look down to find an amused smile on her lips. Her tongue darts out, sweeping the spit and pre-cum from them. She can feel that you’re closer now than she’d like, so her hands leave your cock, and she returns to placing soft kisses against your shaft. She nuzzles her face against it, grazing it with her soft cheeks and nose.

The Eiffel Tower, though - wow, what a monument. It was, like, big and stuff, and lit up and it’s so tall and Momo’s reaching behind her now, fingers working quickly at the buckle that held up the ridiculous triangle of denim that was strapped to her chest and now it’s off, and those large, round, perfectly shaped breasts of hers are bare naked, tits you and half the population of Paris had had their eyes glued to for most of the day and now she’s topless and looking at you with lust in her eyes and her hands are cupping her own tits and her fingers are playing with her stiff nipples and and the Eiffel Tower is definitely a thing.

“Jesus, Momo,” you spit, almost on reaction, as the young woman straightens up her back, giving you a full view of her topless form in the low light of the hotel room balcony. You were thankful, not for the first time, that the balcony walls were made of plaster and thus limited any chance of prying eyes witnessing what was happening on it.

Momo’s response is to bring her breasts to your cock, capturing it between the full, warm mounds. She looks up at you, making sure your eyes were locked on her, before she bends her head to spit on the tip of your cock. 

Her saliva lands on your tip, before dripping down your already spit-slick shaft. She squeezes her tits around your cock, and begins to slide them up and down your length.

Your head tilts back and you let a sharp, breathless gasp leave your mouth at the feeling of it. There was no relying on the Eiffel Tower, now, not that any monument in the world stood any chance of distracting you from what was happening between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” she asks, another question she knew full well the answer to.

“Yes, Momo. Fuck.”

“Do you want to cum on my tits?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Mmmm,” she responds, continuing to slide her warm, full tits up and down your shaft. Warm, wet, slick. “I like you here, though, like this. Right on the edge…”

“Fuck, Momo, please.”

By way of response, she bends her head, does her best to swipe the tip of her tongue across the head of your cock as it appears from between her tits with each slide down your length. You’re getting close now, your limbs beginning to quiver, the pleasure building-

Momo lets your cock slip from between her tits. You sigh at the loss of that warm softness around your shaft. She returns to placing soft, simple kisses on its length.

“I didn’t pinch your arm,” you state, frustrated. You were right there, just a few seconds away, one or two more thrusts between her tits.

“I know,” she replies, a mischievous smile on her lips, before her tongue darts out and gives you a slow, careful lick from the base of your shaft to its tip. “But you look so good like this, all antsy, wanting so bad to cum all over me. So fucking hot.”

“Momo,” you say, her name almost a plea.

She relents - quicker than you were expecting, and saving you from having to beg - perhaps she’d been looking forward to your orgasm just as much as you were.

“Alright,” she says. “I’m not a monster. Don’t hold back, okay? Just cum. Cum for me.”

She straightens her back, slides your aching cock between those full, round, perfect breasts of hers once again. You don’t miss the way she captures her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers as she squeezes the full mounds around your shaft.

She spits on your cock again. Then she slides her breasts up and down your cock.

For a moment your mind flashes back to that very first night with her and Chaeyoung - the night that, without exaggeration, changed your life. The blowjob they’d started with was amazing, of course, but when you started fucking Momo’s tits for the first time - that was when it really sunk it. Before then it had felt like a dream. With her breasts around your cock, and that look of utter pleasure on her face as you fucked her tits - it suddenly felt very real.

And now here you were, in Paris, no less, with that same, beautiful woman on her knees before, your cock between her breasts again as she pumps them up and down your length. But you were alone, now, just you and her, and it somehow felt more intense than even than the first time. Was it the city? The fact that you were alone with her, with no other girls or toys to get in the way? The fact that there was something in the way she’d been acting in the past few days that made you think, for a moment, that this all meant more to her than a simple appearance at a fashion show?

The thought flees your head quickly amidst the pleasure coursing through your veins. It chases almost everything else away, leaving only the feel of her soft, warm tits wrapped around your cock. It feels amazing. It feels sublime.

Momo is sighing now, the pleasure she was giving you inspiring a similar pleasure in her. She continues to tease her nipples, even as she slips your cock in and out between her breasts. She wishes she were naked, that she could slide a hand down her body to the wetness between her legs - but the thought of it, that delicious itch that she wasn’t quite able to scratch - brought her almost as much pleasure.

“Fuck, Momo, I’m gonna cum,” you hiss, between gritted teeth. You are watching her now, hand tight on her bicep and the other woven into her hair. She raises her head to look at you, eyes glazed with almost as much pleasure as yours.

“Fucking cum all over me.”

Almost as if on command, your orgasm hits you - hard, intense, overwhelming. Your cock spasms in the soft warmth of her tits as it spurts thick, warm semen, thick ropes of it landing on her neck and chin, her upper chest, those perfect breasts. You want to shut your eyes, want to relish the pleasure overtaking your brain, but you force your eyes open, force yourself to watch as you paint Momo with your cum.

She lets a long, soft moan leave her mouth from the moment your cum lands on her skin. She continues to slide her breasts up and down your shaft, but at a slower pace now, the added lubrication of your cum making her feel even more slick and wet around your still-spasming cock.

You quiver at the pleasure in a way that you didn’t often during sex. The environment, the circumstances, the utter sexuality of the perfect young woman pleasuring you - it was almost too much to handle.

Your hands leave her body, and you slump backward in your chair as the orgasm finally winds down. Momo finally stops moving, settling her breasts down until they are wrapped around the base of your cock. Her tongue darts out playfully, sliding across your tip. You shudder, completely at her mercy.

Eventually she raises her head, releases your spent cock from between her reddened, cum-slick breasts. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half-lidded with lust. Thick ropes of your cum paint her body, the white streaks contrasting against her perfect creamy skin, dripping down her chest in slow paths of glistening wetness.

She stands, and without a further word she steps inside the hotel room.

Just beyond her the Eiffel Tower stood proudly, a monument to humanity and everything it was capable of - not that you gave it a shred of your attention as you follow her into the room.

You watch, dumbfounded, brain hazy, as she undoes the buckle at her belt and lets the thick denim fall down her long, perfect legs. The small black lace thong she wore beneath it follows suit as she bends to slide it from her body, leaving her naked.

When she reaches the bed, she turns around and sits on its edge, beckoning you toward her with her eyes. You follow, slave to her, a thrall to her whims.

She lies back on the bed. She spreads her legs as you approach the edge of the bed, allowing you between them.

You reach out, caressing her warm, full thighs. They are flushed and pink, wet with the juices freely flowing from her opening. The slick wetness of her cunt glistens in the low light of the hotel room.

“I should be getting you back from what you just did to me,” you say. 

She smiles - a sensual, sultry curve of her lips. “I’d say we’re even, considering what you did to me this morning in the bathroom. And besides,” she says, eyes locked on yours as she captures a rope of your cum from her upper chest with her fingertips, “you liked it.”

She slips her glistening fingers into her mouth, sucking your cum from them. 

In response, you place your newly stiffened shaft on her body - the length of it lying atop her shaven mound. She gasps at the feel of it on her.

“What if I want to leave you like this, Momo? Look at my cock. Look at how deep inside you I’d be.”

She glances down between your bodies, to where your aching, stiff cock is lying atop her mound. She bites her lip, reaching down to caress its wet length, imagining it thrusting mercilessly inside her, comparing its length to her body and seeing how deep inside her it would end up.

“You won’t leave me like this. You don’t have the guts. You want to fuck me. You want to ruin this little cunt of mine, leave me here on this bed a little cum-stained, cum-filled thing.”

“Maybe I want to. Maybe I don’t.”

“You do,” she snaps. “And besides, it doesn’t matter what you want. You’re mine, remember? You do what I want - and what I want is your cum in me.”

You feel yourself giving in. How could anyone resist such a sight, such words? She’s perfect - hot, wet, legs spread, your cum is on her chest and she’s irresistible, in every possible way a woman could be.

“Fuck, Momo,” you sigh, defeated. 

Her free hand continues to caress your cock, forming a ring with her index finger and thumb and pumping it up and down your aching length. She captures another rope of your semen from her upper chest with her fingers, before capturing the nipple atop her right breast and teasing it with cum-stained fingertips. She moans at her own touch, you gasp at the sight of her. Your hands, caressing her thighs, tighten around the soft, yielding flesh, holding on to the last vestiges of self-control remaining inside you.

“Do you like me like this?” she asks, breathless.

You grasp your cock with your right hand, bringing your tip to her dripping lips before sliding inside her. It rips a sharp moan from her lungs. You linger there for a moment, hilt-deep inside Hirai Momo’s tight, slick cunt.

“I like you like this.”

You begin to fuck her - as much as a part of you wanted to get back at her for the way she’d edged you out on the balcony, the tight, slick heat you were pumping in and out of did much to dissolve any thoughts of revenge from your head. The session in the bathroom this morning, the teasing at the fashion show, the way she’d pleasured you on the balcony - it had all boiled over, leaving no room for things like teasing or taking things slow.

There was only pleasure, now, and the hard, firm pace you set puts you both on the path to achieving it as quickly as possible.

At first she gasps and sighs as you fill her again and again, her body adjusting to the way you were taking her, her cunt stretching around you. She was still so slick and so very wet - perhaps some remnant of the cum you’d left in her this morning contributed to how messy she felt, or perhaps it was mostly her own juices. Either way, she was dripping even before you’d entered her, and now, as you hammer in and out of that juicy pussy, she was almost drenched.

“Fuck, fuck,” she hisses, between gritted teeth. She raises her upper body on her elbows, giving her a better look between her own spread legs where you are pistoning in and out of her body. She looks up at you, and for a few long minutes you stay like that, eyes holding each other's gaze as you fuck.

Her breasts are given a delightful bounce with each thrust into her body. The streaks of your cum begin to flow down their curves, leaving glistening trails behind them. You rip your eyes from hers to watch them bounce, hypnotically, mesmerized by their perfect shape and the way they moved on her body.

She gets the hint - returns her back to the bed, reaches and cups her tits with both her hands, squeezing their cum-streaked flesh, teasing her nipples again with needy fingers, giving you a show even as she pleasured herself.

It works, and the sight of her spurs you. You up your pace slightly.

“Fuck, yes, right there, just like that,” she spits, as you reach a new tempo. “Fuck me like that, fuck me like this.”

She continues to play with her tits, pinching and teasing her nipples, but you want to see them free, want to see them bounce wildly with every stroke into her cunt. You reach forward. Trapping her wrists in yours, you pull back towards yourself.

She is helpless now, her upper arms bringing her tits together and creating a delicious looking cleavage as they are rocked by each thrust into her tight little cunt. Her heels dig into your butt. She wants more, needs more. She’s moaning and sighing wordless little sounds of pleasure, of need. Your cum is on her bouncing, jiggling breasts and her perfect abs clench and her thighs are flushed and she’s so much, all at once, all for you, she’s made of sex and she’s yours to take.

But that’s not enough - you want more, want to see her lose herself to the pleasure, want to see her cum around your cock. You let go of one of her wrists. With your hand free, you reach down and begin to thumb her clit.

The moan that is halfway out her mouth turns into a shriek, a scream, at your touch. Her arm, free of your grip, finds your forearm as it works at her wet, slick flesh. Her nails dig into your skin, and the pain is a delicious spice to the pleasure you find in her cunt.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she says, words falling from her lips in a tumble. “Fuck, keep fucking me.”

You do just that - hammering in and out of her tight, juicy little cunt as you thumb at her clit.  She clenches and pulsates around you and you know you’re building her up to an orgasm that you hoped would be as powerful as the one she gave you on the balcony.

“Oh god,” she sighs, a sign that your hopes had a chance of being fulfilled. “Gonna cum so hard. Gonna cum on your cock.”

“Do it, Momo. Cum.”

“No, I don’t want to,” she says - a theme, now, with her, a kink you hadn’t known she’d had, discovered and out here in the open. She loved it here, right on the precipice. Loved the threat of orgasm, almost as much as when it actually came, for you and for her. She loved being teased about it, loved being goaded into an orgasm she pretended to resist, pretended not to want. Faux-resistance. Pretend. In reality she wanted, needed the orgasm - but every denial of it made it so much sweeter when it finally came.

“Momo, cum. Cum on my cock like a good little girl.”

Her free hand darts up to capture a cum-stained, bouncing breast. She squeezes herself, hard. Her free, bouncing tit glistens in the light with sweat and cum. 

“No, no no,” she insists, eyes shut and head shaking no, even as her cunt tightens around your thrusting cock, mercilessly pounding into her, spreading her apart, making her yours. Her pulsating pussy betrays her needs, even as her mouth spits defiance. “Don’t want to cum yet. Don’t let me cum, I’ll be good, I promise-”

Your thumb works against her clit. It brings her right to the edge-

“No, no, I don’t want, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. You cum first, cum in my cunt, please, cum in me first then I’ll cum on your cock I promise, I swear, fuck, fill me with cum please-”

It hits you all at once. You’d thought you were a ways from your own orgasm, especially since you’d cum on her chest just minutes before, but the sight, the sound, the feel of Hirai Momo is too much. It hits you like a thunderbolt, and it feels like lightning coursing through your veins. You bury yourself inside her and fill her, your cock pulsating with each rope of hot, thick semen it leaves inside her messy, tight cunt.

“Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, please, don’t stop-”

You are struggling to remain at least somewhat coherent given the pleasure coursing through even inch of your body, but her words still reach you, and you still find it in you to obey them. You keep thrusting, keep fucking her tight, cum-filled mess of a cunt, and she loves it, loves each entry and exit you make in and out of her body.

After a brief pause as your orgasm overtakes your senses for a moment, your thumb continues its work on her clit, slowly sliding from side to side across the slick, taut bud.

You open eyes you hadn’t known you’d closed and there she is, Hirai Momo, object of desire and beauty and captured with a million megapixels and bathed in flashing lights mere hours before - now a cum-filled, cum-stained mess, legs spread, skin flushed, moaning and sighing around a cunt filled with hot semen, being fucked into an orgasm she resisted and wanted at the same time. 

What any one of her admirers from hours before have given to be you at this moment, see what you see, feel what you feel. But no one else is here - there’s only you, and her, and this sublime, intensely intimate moment between you.

There is only one thing left for you to ask, one thing left for you to say.

“Cum for me, Momo.”

She quivers and shakes when she cums, body submitting completely to the pleasure overtaking her.  Her thighs close around your hips. Inside her, her cunt clenches down on your cock so tightly it is almost painful. You let out a groan of pleasure, but it is drowned out by the long, loud moan that leaves her.

The moan ends, and she lies there - quivering, trembling. Her juices and your cum overflow from her filled cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets, ruining them. You release her right wrist and your thumb leaves her clit, and you brace yourself atop her. You’re both breathing heavily, chests heaving, lungs empty.

She’s dirty now, filthy - a far cry from the perfectly dressed, perfectly made-up model beneath the flashing lights of mere hours ago. Your cum stains her body, fills her cock-filled cunt. Sweat glues her once perfectly-styled hair to her flushed face. She is a mess and utterly, completely perfect, somehow all at the same time.

Her eyes glimmer in the darkness of the bedroom. She manages a smile, through the utter exhaustion. 

You return it, and bend to kiss her.

---

“Y’know how people call Paris the City of Light? It’s because it was one of the first European cities to use gas street lamps, in, like, the 1860s. So it was, like, literally, a city of light.”

For not the first time on the trip, you are taken aback by the knowledge Momo liked to drop at her whim, at random times, as though she could have told you these facts at any time but was waiting for the right moment to do so. She wanted to catch you off guard with them, at a time you least expected, right when you’d convinced yourself that there really wasn’t much going on in that head of hers aside from wondering what delightful culinary treat awaited her at her next meal.

She is leaning on a railing of the many bridges that traversed the French capital. Overly ornate gas lamps formed a part of the railing every twenty or so feet, and you follow her gaze up to one of them. You wonder, briefly, how many men and women had looked up at it and wondered about its history over the decades, just as you now did. The history of the city around you weighed heavily on you at the moment, as it often did as you wandered its streets.

It was the fourth day of your trip - after recovering from the exhausting travel and her appearance at the first fashion show, you’d both spent the last few days taking in Paris’ sights and sounds. She had another scheduled appearance in a couple of days before you both returned to Korea the day after, but until then you were both free to wander the French capital.

You’d hit most of the usual tourist traps first, of course - seeing the Eiffel Tower up close, visiting the popular museums and art galleries, eating at upscale restaurants and casual cafes. The sex was wonderful, of course, but so was the company of the young woman next to you. 

You’d thought you’d figured her out long ago. Every day you spent with her proved you more wrong. Every day you spent with her convinced you that you never really knew her at all.

After a moment you return your eyes to Momo, who is still staring with a mix of wonder and amusement at the lamp, a small smile of amusement on her lips. She notices you looking at her and she gives you a quick look, her smile turning warm. You share that moment for a while.

Eventually your gazes drift down to the river below you, and the banks on either side of it. Despite it being the middle of a weekday, there is no shortage of crowds. Citizens and tourists both have taken up spots on the grassy banks, many enjoying the cool shade under the trees lining the walkways that offered some respite from the late summer heat. Some are enjoying a quick lunch, some are sitting and chatting idly, still others are simply sitting in silence, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city around them.

Many of them are couples. Many are flirting - feeding each other bites of cake or salad, whispering sweet nothings in ears, laughing and smiling at every little thing their partner did in the way young people in love did.

“Paris is the City of Love, too,” Momo says, as though reading your mind.

“I can see why,” you answer, looking around you at the green spaces and blooming flowers, the benches and walkways seemingly built for two, the cute restaurants and cafes. Everywhere you looked there was a place ripe for romance, a place for it to bloom, a place for sparks to turn into fires. Falling in love here would be easy. The city itself seemed to encourage it.

Momo slips her arm in yours, her hand giving your bicep a squeeze.

You are instantly on alert. All it took was one random fan with a phone and an image of one of Korea’s most popular stars would be on screens everywhere, accompanied by the salacious rumors and comments that often came part and parcel with such images. Given your recent experience with the photos someone had taken outside Nayeon’s apartment, you knew full well about what could happen when images of you and one of the girls popped up on the internet.

“Momo,” you say, softly, beginning to slide your arm away. But her grasp on you is stronger than you were anticipating, and she holds on to you.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” she says to you, a soft look in her eyes and in the smile on her lips. “Let me have my day.”

She pulls you away from the railing, and you continue your stroll down Paris’ alleys and streets, her arm still locked with yours.

---

The crowds were much thinner here, on this random, relatively secluded park somewhere in Paris, some distance from the tourist traps and busy main streets. You and Momo are lying on your sides on a navy blue blanket she’d bought from a nearby craft fair, having just finished off what were probably the best sandwiches you’d ever had in your entire life. Momo had ordered them for the both of you at a local shop, displaying a rudimentary but adorable French accent as she did so.

You are lying on a slope facing a small wooded area, and the trees, greenery, and fading sunlight of late afternoon provided you some privacy. But you could still hear people chatting faintly some distance away, and nothing was stopping an errant child or curious couple from cresting the small hill and finding you both on its other side. Not that that stopped Momo from playing with the waistband of your pants.

“We really shouldn’t,” you say, as her fingers trace the outline of the belt at your waist, both of you knowing your resistance wouldn’t last long. “I can hear people-”

“Mmm?” she hums, as though she weren’t quite listening to what you were saying, or was simply dismissing it. “Want me to stop?”

“If they see us-”

“I see that you’re not saying no.”

You smirk. “Let’s go back to the hotel. We can-”

“I want you here,” she says, eyes suddenly intense. “Now.”

“We can’t - we’ll make too much noise-”

“Then be quiet,” she responds, her hand having undone your belt, the top button soon following suit.

“And will you?” you tease.

“I won’t be the one cumming at a public park.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she says, drawing her body closer to you on the blanket. With her hand she pulls down your pants only low enough to reveal the bulge in your boxers. With a delicate touch, she slides your underwear down to reveal your cock. You shiver as she touches you, her soft fingers closing around your girth.

“So what, you’re just going to lie there and give me a handjob, and that’s it?”

“Well, no,” she admits, that sultry, sly smile on her lips as she bends forward slightly to give you a short, soft kiss. “I fully expect you to fuck me the way I like back at the hotel. I expect you to leave me dripping. But here…”

“-but here?”

“Here, well, I wore this dress for a reason.”

She’s wearing a loose, floral pattern sundress, one that leaves the perfect, creamy skin of her shoulders and upper chest bare. It is daringly low-cut, displaying a delicious-looking cleavage that you’d snuck more than one glance at over the course of the day. Its material is thin and airy, making the outline of the thin white thong she wore beneath obvious to see - as was the absence of a bra.

Her hand closes around your cock, begins to pump up and down in earnest. You reach up, slide your hand against her cheek, and kiss her.

Your tongues find each other, resume the duel they’d been waging on and off in the four days you’d been in Paris. Your hand slides down her neck, lingering there for a moment, enjoying the feel of her pulse beneath your palm. Between you, her hand continues to pump up and down your shaft, fingers tight around your stiffness. 

Your hand drifts to her shoulder, sliding beneath the thin spaghetti strap of the dress and sliding it down her upper arm. The dress slips over her breast, baring it to your hand.

You caress the firm, round mound, her nipple already poking into your palm. She sighs into your kiss as your fingers close around her bud and tease, pinch, pull. She breaks your kiss for a moment, and you lie there a while, noses grazing each other, breathing heavily against each others’ lips as your hands play with each others’ bodies. Sometimes your gazes are locked, sometimes one or both pairs close, sometimes they are half-lidded. But they always find each other again.

Her hand leaves your aching cock for a moment, and she brings her hand to her mouth. You hear her spit into it. Her eyes are locked on yours the whole while, until the feel of the wetness of her pumping hand around your shaft sends a shiver up your spine that causes your eyes to shut.

“Fuck,” you hiss, through gritted teeth. Momo’s lips find yours, and you sigh your pleasure into her mouth.

“Does that feel good, baby?” she says, softly. Her hand tightens around you, her pace increasing slightly. “Do I look good for you?”

She reaches up with her free hand, slips the other strap of her dress down her shoulder, baring her other breast. She pulls it down further, until she is naked almost from the waist up. For the millionth time on this trip, you are utterly entranced by her chest - their perfect shape, the weight of the one in your hand, the feel of her soft, creamy skin, the way they sat on her chest and moved slightly with every pump of her hand on your cock. 

“You… like my tits, don’t you?” she continues, slightly breathless now. There is a tremble in her voice. It was clear to see in her voice, in the flush on her cheeks, the tightness of her nipples - pleasuring you pleasured her equally.

“I do, Momo. I love them.”

The word elicits a soft, wordless moan from her lips, as though it had triggered something inside her. 

“Cum on them, okay? Cum on me.”

Despite the sharp spikes of pleasure that every movement of her hand sent throughout your body, you find yourself surprised.

“Really? No teasing, no edging this time?”

Momo smiles, despite herself, but the relief is brief, and quickly her eyes become intense again.

“No. I want to see you cum. Just for me, please. Just for me. You said you’d be mine. Just mine. Cum, please. Just for me.”

Your hand leaves her breast, finds her cheek, brings it close for a fierce, passionate kiss. You sigh and moan into each others’ mouths as the pleasure she is creating between your bodies begins to reach a peak.

She breaks the kiss to look into your eyes. 

It strikes you all at once - the intimacy, the closeness, the vulnerability. You are entirely at her mercy in that moment, heart and soul laid entirely bare. She knows who you are, knows your secrets. You can hide nothing from her, and she knows it. 

Somewhere else in the park children are playing, dogs barking, elderly couples going for a late-afternoon stroll, but none of it matters; the entire world is boiled down to the three foot square of the blanket and the wonderful woman you shared it with. Not one other thought - not of the other girls, of this trip, or of the bustling city around you - existed. There was only you, and her, and the pleasure she was creating for you in this private little moment that you two shared. A moment she’d created for the two of you only, that neither of you would tell another soul of - it belonged to the both of you, and no one else.

The past several months had been filled with some of the most intense, erotic, carnal moments in your life - but none as close, as intimate as this.

“Cum for me, please?” she says, almost pleading now, for her as much as for you. “Please, baby. Cum all over me.”

Your breath cuts out, your hand clenches around the side of her head - between you, your cock spasms and spurts thick cum all over Momo’s chest. It lands in heavy streaks across her breasts, her nipples, her collarbones. She sighs with each rope that lands on her skin, the same way she sighed when you filled her cunt - as though it were an equally enjoyable experience for her as it was for you.

“Yes, baby,” she whispers beneath her breath as her pace on your cock slows, fingers still tight around your shaft as she milks each drop of cum from your body. “More, please, more.”

You are drained by now, both of cum and of breath - but your body manages a few more weak spurts of semen that land on the dress bunched beneath her breasts, staining the fabric with thick drops of creamy white. Your hand still clutches at her cheek, your arm trembling slightly as your orgasm winds down. 

You open your eyes to view the mess you’d made of her body. It wasn’t the first time on this trip that you’d seen her chest streaked with your cum, but in the fading sunlight of the Paris afternoon it was somehow more beautiful than the times previous. The thick ropes of semen begin to slide down the round mounds, leaving behind glistening streaks that mark their paths across creamy, perfect skin. 

Your eyes find hers. To your surprise you find them eyes glassy, as though on the verge of tears. The intensity of the moment you’ve shared hits you both, and you find your eyes watering as well.

“Momo,” you say, because she is what your existence is filled with. In that moment, she is all you know.

“I’m here,” she says, softly, lips finding yours.

---

Morning dawned on Paris. Bright rays of gold bathe the city, make it glimmer and shine. It slowly makes its way across its buildings and roads and parks, inevitable, inexorable.

It makes its way through the open balcony window of the hotel suite you’d shared with Momo over the past week. It illuminates the messy sheets and the remnants of mostly-eaten takeout and room service trays, over your mostly-packed luggage, over the navy blue blanket she would take home and treasure, because it would remind her of a week when she felt loved.

Finally, it illuminates the bathroom - unlit by artificial light, it’s a little dimmer than the rest of the suite, meaning the only light that reached Momo’s naked, wet skin is that of the sun.

But you didn’t need much light. The feel of her body against yours, her arms wrapped around your neck and one leg raised against your hip, heel digging into your backside as you slid in and out of her - that was enough.

You tighten your grasp on her ass, holding her upraised leg up, opening her up further, spreading her, stretching her. Your foreheads press against each other, breathing heavily, moaning softly into each others mouths. You kiss, sometimes - little, involuntary movements, acts of affection amidst the passion. You open your eyes to find hers locked on yours, and the shower water flowing down her face makes her appear as though she’s crying. You need to touch her face, need to cradle it, need to make her feel safe. 

You raise your hand to her cheek. Her hands wind through your hair, holding your head, pressing it against her forehead again. Through it all your are fucking her softly, slowly. No teasing or edging here, no playful banter or filthy talk. It is close, intimate, raw.

“I’ll do whatever you want, you know?” she gasps, the rising tone of her voice betraying the depth of her words. “I’ll be whoever you want. Just say you’re mine, please, and I’ll be yours.”

“Momo-”

She presses a finger against your lips. There is need written on her features, of course, and pleasure and lust, but also an genuineness, a realness that you rarely saw in her. Everything about her is laid bare, and the honesty on her lips is plain to see. She meant every word she said.

“Even if you don’t, even if you don’t want me, pretend, okay?” she whispers, barely heard over the patter of the shower on your bodies. “Even if it’s not true, just say it, I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours, Momo. I’m yours, I swear.”

The breath leaves her lungs in a long, wistful moan as she cums around your cock. Her cunt tightens, her body quivers. Only your hands on her body keep her upright, keep her back pressed against the cool tile of the shower.

Through the haze of her orgasm she locks eyes with you, her hands cradling your face. There is nothing between you, nowhere to hide, no secrets or mysteries. It feels vulnerable and it feels safe and it feels wonderful, all at the same time.

“Cum inside me,” she says, softly, and soon enough you do, burying yourself inside her, sighing against her shoulder as you fill her yet again. She moans into your ear as you fill her, nails digging into your scalp.

Your orgasms wind their way throughout your bodies, just as they did dozens of times over the past week. But this one doesn’t last as long - perhaps it was the impending end of the week, perhaps it was the words that remained unspoken between you - either way, eventually Momo lets her leg drop from your hip, and you slide out of her body.

You both linger there awhile, the shower dousing you both. Your warm cum leaks out of her, dripping down her still-quivering thighs, joining the water trailing down her leg. She pulls you close, buries her head into your neck. Your arms wrap around each other.

“Momo,” you say, softly, some indeterminate amount of time later. Your flight home was later that morning, and you were already running later than you would have liked. “We have to-”

“I want to stay here,” she says into your neck.

“I know. But we can’t. We have to go.”

Time passes. You remain there, the both of you, breathing heavily against each other. The shower continues to run. The sun continues its advance into the bathroom, illuminating most of it now. Momo turns away from it, nuzzling deeper into your neck, knowing that its appearance signalled the end of the week, the end of the trip.

For many the Paris dawn is beautiful. For Hirai Momo, the light is merciless.

“Momo,” you begin.

“I know,” she answers.

Without any further words or looks, she leaves your arms, leaves the shower and grabs a towel on her way out of the bathroom. You hear the bedroom door shut behind her.

Your gaze follows her, watches her leave. From the doorway of the bathroom you can see the open balcony across the room, where the sun has chased away the last of the night. 

Beyond the balcony Paris continues about its day, adding another tryst, another love story - whatever word could possibly encapsulate the last week you’d spent with Hirai Momo - to the countless others it has borne witness to over the centuries of its history.

---

“So yeah, I guess I’ll see you Thursday? We’re filming the next episode of Time to Twice-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Momo answers, leaning on the doorframe of the apartment she shared with Nayeon. As much as she loved spending time with her members, she liked filming these “reality” shows much less - they were when she was expected to act like the hot but utterly clueless bimbo that the world believed her to be.

“Make sure you get a good night’s sleep the night before. I snuck a peek at the script and they need you to-”

“I know, I know,” she repeats. “Play the dumb airhead.”

You sigh under your breath, knowing how much she hated being portrayed the way she was. You wished you could tell her how much you loved seeing that other side of her - the one that was smarter than she let others believe, the one that knew about the gas lamps in Paris and could speak elementary school French. 

You both linger there in silence for a while as the words you wish you had to comfort her never materialize.

“Momo, about this past week…”

“Just two fuck buddies doing Paris,” Momo declares with surprising zest, although there was something in her eyes that doesn’t quite match with the words leaving her lips. 

“So all that stuff about-”

“Just pillow talk,” she spits, almost on reaction, as though she wanted to cut off that particular line of conversation before it got any further - or if she’d been preparing for you to raise the question and had rehearsed an answer for it. “Just stuff to get me off. Got a romance kink, I guess. Paris, city of love, city of light, you know how it is. That’s all it was. Don’t go thinking I’m in love with you, or anything.”

You aren’t sure you believe her. She felt too honest, too real, too raw on your trip. If she was faking it all - acting - then she was in the wrong profession.

“Okay, then,” you begin, slowly. “I guess I’ll… I guess I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

You turn away and begin to head towards the waiting elevator. Midway there you turn to find her still leaning against the doorframe, watching you. A sad smile makes its way onto her lips.

“Hey, Momo?”

She perks up, expectant.

“Thanks.”

Her smile deepens, but her eyes betray her -  there is disappointment in them, as though the word that left your mouth wasn’t what she was expecting, or hoping, to hear.

“No worries! See you Thursday,” she says, as brightly as she could, before closing the door.

She leans her forehead against the closed door for a moment, eyes closing, doing her best to process the past seven days. Her heart pounds against her chest, and she places a hand over it, willing it to calm down.

In her pocket, her phone vibrates. It’s Nayeon. She sighs as she declines the call - dealing with her was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.

With tired legs, she shuffles her way into the living room of her apartment, where Sana is lounging on the couch with Woody, who has fallen asleep, head on her lap. The younger Japanese girl is idly scrolling through her phone, but she sets it down on the coffee table when Momo enters the living room.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Sana asks as she begins to play idly with Woody’s hair as though he were a pet and not a whole other human being. She’s wearing only a loose t-shirt and Woody is naked aside from the throw blanket thrown haphazardly across his midsection, making it clear what they were up to mere moments before Momo had arrived.

“About what?” Momo replies, sighing to herself as she enters the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water. The trip had left her drained, and without the energy to deal with Sana and her incessant nosiness.

“That you picked him,” Sana continues, finally looking up to fix Momo with a look. “That you picked him out at the concert that night. He should be your toy, not Chaeyoung’s.”

Momo lets out a sharp breath.

“It doesn’t matter,” the older girl replies. “He’s Chaeyoung’s now. He doesn’t need to know anything more than that.”

“But you wish he did.”

As annoying as Sana could occasionally be, she was often more adept at reading a person than the other girls were. Given how much time they’d spent together, she knew Momo better than most, making it obvious to her from the second she’d arrived what had really happened in Paris.

“He’s not hers yet, not completely,” Sana continues. “If I were you, and if you really have feelings for him, I’d tell him how you feel before Chaeyoung does. Wait too long, and she’ll have him wrapped around her dainty little fingers.”

“You’ve seen the way he acts around her,” Momo replies, setting her water bottle down on the counter and bracing herself against it with her hands, letting her head fall down between her shoulders. “He’s probably on his way to see her right now. He likes her.”

“Does he? I think you should fight her for him. She doesn’t deserve him. You do. He should be yours, not hers.”

Momo raises her head, closes her eyes. It was all too much, all too much to think about right now, minutes after getting home from one of the more eventful weeks of her life. She was exhausted, physically and mentally and emotionally. 

She looks down the hallway at the door he’d just occupied. She wanted nothing more than to return to that hotel room in Paris, with him, and…

She shuts her eyes and leaves the room, hoping some sleep would at least provide her with a temporary reprieve from the million thoughts running through her head.

When she hears Momo’s bedroom door close, Sana picks up her phone from the coffee table and brings it to her ear. 

“Did you hear that?” she asks the person on the line.

“Yes,” Nayeon answers. “That was well done.”

“Thanks, unnie. Don’t you worry - I’ll make sure those two are at each others’ throats. Whoever he ends up with, it won’t be either of them. Then he’ll be all yours for the taking.”

She begins to stand, gently lifting Woody’s head from her lap and placing it on the couch so as to not interrupt his sleep. She is still talking softly with Nayeon as she makes her way to the bathroom.

When he hears the bathroom door close, Woody, who’d been awake from the moment Momo arrived, reaches for his own phone on the coffee table. 

He begins to write a text.

---

Author’s Note: lol longest piece I’ve ever written and of course it had to be Momo. she’s the reason why I’m here, after all. :)

Be kind to yourselves and to each other. <3

[thewulf]

Calming Storms || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - It's aaron hotchner x reader, and reader is the mother of one of Jack's new friends (let's call him Marc for now but you can change it obvs), and one time the bau have a kind of short case but away, Jessica is away also so Jack says he could do a sleepover at Marc's and everything goes fine until the second night where Marc's dad gets so angry at reader that she locks the kids in Marc's bedroom... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew this ones a doozy. Very sweet but triggering. Talks of violence against reader/kids. Please be cautious while reading if this triggers you!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Talks of DV, drunk absent fathers, scared kids

The evening unfolded with a rare promise of simplicity, a brief respite from the relentless whirlwind of investigations that consumed the Behavioral Analysis Unit's days and nights. Aaron Hotchner, taking charge in Jessica's absence, found himself overseeing operations with a steely determination. With each passing case, he was reminded of the fragility of life and the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders.

Amidst the chaos of their lives, Aaron made it a priority to ensure that his son, Jack, found moments of normalcy and joy. Tonight, he had arranged for Jack to have a sleepover with his best friend, Marc. It was a small gesture, perhaps, but one that Aaron hoped would offer Jack a brief respite from the realities of their world.

As Jack eagerly packed his overnight bag with the essentials—a favorite stuffed animal, a handful of snacks, and a well-loved book—Aaron couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for Marc's friendship. In the short time they had known each other, Marc had already become a source of light and laughter for Jack, a sense normalcy in the chaos.

With a reassuring smile, Aaron watched as Jack bounded out the door with excitement shining in his eyes. It was moments like these that reminded Aaron of the importance of cherishing the simple joys in life, even in the darkness that surrounded them. The best thing about Jack’s friendship with Marc though? You. His mother. The woman that walked into his life, took a seat and had taken ahold of him in a hurry.

When Aaron Hotchner looks at you, he sees more than just physical beauty. Sure, you're undeniably pretty, with features that catch the eye and an elegance that's hard to ignore. But what really captivates him is something deeper, something that goes beyond mere appearance.

In his eyes, you carry yourself with a quiet strength and confidence that sets you apart. There's a grace in the way you move, a poise that speaks volumes about your inner resilience. Your eyes, he notices, hold a depth that hints at a wealth of experiences and emotions, drawing him in with their intensity.

Everything about you attracts him to you. It's the way you approach challenges with unwavering resolve, the way you stand by your principles even in the face of adversity. He admires your determination, your ability to stay true to yourself no matter what. To Aaron, you're not just beautiful. You're a testament to strength and resilience, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there's always the possibility of finding light. And as he looks at you, he can't help but feel a sense of admiration and respect for the remarkable person you are.

Aaron got to know you through a series of casual encounters that gradually evolved into something more meaningful. It started with the occasional coffee break during team meetings or after-work gatherings where the BAU team would unwind. As the kids played and laughter filled the air, Aaron found himself drawn to your presence.

At first, your interactions were brief and centered around small talk—discussing work, sharing anecdotes about the challenges of balancing career and family. But over time, those conversations grew deeper, more personal. You discovered shared interests and common values, forging a connection that went beyond the confines of the office. As Aaron spent more time with you, he began to appreciate your unique perspective and unwavering dedication to your work. He admired your intelligence, your ability to analyze complex situations with clarity and precision. And as he got to know you better, he found himself drawn to your warmth and kindness, your willingness to listen and offer support when needed.

Before long, those casual coffee breaks evolved into something more—a genuine friendship built on mutual respect and understanding. And as Aaron navigated the complexities of his own life, he found solace in knowing that you were there, a steady presence amidst the rocky days, offering comfort and companionship when he needed it most.

After he dropped Jack off at your house he went back to work, even though he had no desire to go back after the already stressful week. As the night settled in and the BAU headquarters grew quiet, Aaron allowed himself a moment of respite, a rare chance to breathe amidst the chaos. He found solace in the knowledge that, for tonight at least, Jack was safe and happy, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and the promise of a new day. And as he settled into his own quiet routine, Aaron couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope among the darkness—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always the promise of light.

As laughter and chatter filled your home, your watchful gaze swept over the scene, a silent sentinel guarding over the children's fleeting moments of joy. The sound of their innocent giggles echoed through the room, a melody of pure happiness that brought warmth to your heart.

But then, like a sudden squall, that joy was ripped from everybody in the room. Marc's father, a distant figure with visitation rights, arrived in a whirlwind of anger, his shouts piercing the tranquil evening air. His words were sharp, laced with bitterness and resentment, tearing through the peaceful atmosphere like shards of glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as his presence loomed over the room, casting a dark shadow over the innocence of childhood.

Taking a peak outside the window you were hit with a sense of overwhelming dread. He was drunk. There was no mistaking the glassy look in his eyes, the slurred speech that spilled from his lips like poison. This was why you moved time and time again, running away from the man that scared you senseless, the specter of his rage haunting your every step.

In that moment, instinct propelled you into action. With trembling hands, you gathered the children, ushering them into your young sons bedroom. Their faces were a mixture of confusion and fear, mirroring the turmoil raging inside your own heart. Marc, wide-eyed and trembling, clung to your side, seeking comfort and safety in the shelter of your embrace.

You locked Marc’s bedroom door behind you, the click of the bolt a final barrier between the children and the storm brewing outside. With each passing moment, the tension in the air grew thicker, suffocating in its intensity. But you stood firm, a pillar of strength amidst his fury, shielding the children from the darkness that threatened to engulf them.

As you huddled together in Marc's room, Marc clung to your side, his small frame trembling with fear. "Mommy, what's happening?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with uncertainty.

You knelt down beside him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. "It's going to be okay, Marc, Jack," you reassured him, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "We're safe here."

Jack, sensing the tension in the air, looked up at you with wide eyes. "Are we in trouble Miss Y/N? Daddy says if I’m in trouble I should call him." he asked, his voice tinged with worry having had to go through this same scenario one too many times for being such a young kid.

You shook your head, mustering a reassuring smile for both boys. "No, sweetheart, we're not in trouble," you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "We're just going to stay here until everything calms down, okay?"

The boys nodded, their trust in you unwavering despite the chaos unfolding outside. Together, you formed a tight-knit circle, finding solace in each other's presence amidst the uncertainty. But you knew you couldn’t just wait it out in Marc's bedroom. You had to do something though, anything. You couldn’t wait for Marc’s father to break down the door.

Your mind raced with possibilities as you scanned the room for any means of defense. Should you grab a knife? Look for any baseball bats around? With a sense of urgency, you sprang into action, determined to protect the children at all costs.

As the tension in the room thickened, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what needed to be done. With a gentle hand, you lifted Marc's chin, meeting his frightened gaze with a reassuring smile. "Listen to me, Marc, Jack," you began, your voice firm but gentle. "I need you both to be brave for me, okay? We're going to find a hiding spot, and I need you to stay quiet and stay hidden until I come back. Can you do that?"

Marc nodded; his eyes filled with determination as he squeezed your hand. "We can do it, Mommy," he whispered, his voice steady despite the fear that lingered in the air.

Jack hesitated for a moment before nodding, his small frame tense with uncertainty. "Okay, Miss Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads, a silent promise to keep them safe. "Good," you said softly, your voice filled with determination. "Now, I need you to find a hiding spot and stay there until I come back. I'm going to call your Dad, Jack, and he's going to help us, okay?"

With a nod, the boys scrambled to find a hiding spot, their small figures disappearing into the shadows of the room. As they huddled together, you felt a surge of pride and love welling up inside you. They were scared, yes, but they were also brave, just like Jack’s father.

The sound of fists pounding against wood echoed through the room, a chilling reminder of the danger lurking just beyond their sanctuary. Every blow sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you fumbled for your phone, the air thick with terror.

With trembling hands, you dialed Aaron's number, each digit feeling like an eternity as you prayed for his swift arrival. The urgency in your voice betrayed the gravity of the situation as you finally managed to connect with him.

"Hotchner," his voice was calm, a reassuring anchor that threatened to engulf you.

"Aaron, it's me," you managed, your words tumbling out in a rush, your voice trembling with fear. "Something's happened. Marc's father—he's here, and he's... he's furious and drunk. I don't know what to do."

There was a brief pause, the silence heavy with unspoken understanding. In that moment, you could almost hear the gears turning in Aaron's mind as he processed the gravity of the situation. But despite the fear that threatened to consume you, his voice remained steady, a beacon of strength in the darkness.

"I'm on my way," he replied, his words infused with determination.

As you hung up the phone, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that help was on the way, but the danger still lurked just outside. With trembling hands, you made your way to the window, your heart pounding in your chest as you peered outside.

Marc's father stood in the dimly lit street, his figure looming menacingly in the shadows. His shouts filled the night air, a chilling reminder of the mayhem that threatened to engulf you all. You could see the anger etched on his face, the twisted expression of rage that sent shivers racing through your body.

Your stomach churned with fear as you watched him pace back and forth, his movements erratic and unpredictable. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to hide, to protect yourself and the children from his wrath.

But you stood your ground, rooted to the spot as you watched the scene unfold before you. You were the first line of defense to those kids, and you wouldn’t let him through. Not in your wildest dreams. You knew that help was on the way, that Aaron would be here soon to put an end to this nightmare. But until then, all you could do was wait, your heart pounding in your chest as you prayed for safety and protection for you and the children.

As you strained to listen, the angry shouts of Marc's father pierced through the stillness of the night, each word a sharp dagger of fear that lodged itself in your chest. His voice was laced with venom, filled with threats and curses that sent chills down your spine. Through the window, you saw him pacing back and forth, his movements frenzied and erratic. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, and every now and then, he would pound on the door with a force that made the wood tremble.

The streetlights cast eerie shadows across his face, distorting his features into a grotesque mask of rage. His eyes burned with a wildfire, his gaze sweeping over the house with a predatory intensity that made your blood run cold. With each passing moment, the tension in the air grew heavier, suffocating in its intensity. You held your breath, your heart hammering in your chest as you prayed for Aaron's swift arrival.

And then, just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, you heard the distant sound of sirens wailing in the night. Relief washed over you like a wave as you realized that help was finally here, that Aaron had arrived to put an end to this nightmare once and for all.

From your vantage point at the window, you strained to hear over the pounding of your heart. Marc's father's voice grew louder, his words slurred with anger and alcohol. He stumbled, his movements unsteady as he continued to rant and rave. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared on the street. Aaron emerged from the darkness, his presence commanding and authoritative. He approached Marc's father with caution, his hand resting on the holster of his gun.

"Sir, I need you to calm down," Aaron's voice cut through the night, firm and unwavering. "You're causing a disturbance."

But Marc's father didn't heed the warning. He lashed out, his fists swinging wildly as he advanced towards Aaron. In one swift motion, Aaron drew his weapon, his stance defensive yet controlled.

"Back off," Aaron commanded, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

But Marc's father refused to listen. He lunged forward, intent on causing harm. With a steady hand, Aaron moved to subdue him, the click of handcuffs echoing through the night as he wrestled Marc's father into submission.From the window, you watched as he engaged Marc's father in calm but firm conversation, his authoritative presence making it clear that his priority was the safety of you and the children.

After what felt like an eternity, Marc's father finally relented, his anger simmering down as he was escorted away by the authorities. With each step he took, the weight of the tension that had filled the room seemed to lift, leaving behind a sense of calm in its wake.

As the chaos outside began to subside, you approached the door cautiously, your heart still pounding in your chest with each step. Peering through the peephole, you saw Aaron's familiar silhouette standing on the other side, strength amidst the darkness. With trembling hands, you reached for the door handle, the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what lay on the other side, but the urgency of the situation spurred you into action.

Gripping the handle tightly, you slowly turned it, the creak of the door breaking the eerie silence that had settled over the house. As you swung the door open, Aaron's concerned gaze met yours, his expression filled with determination and resolve. Without a word, Aaron stepped inside, his presence a comforting reassurance in the midst of chaos. And as you closed the door behind him, the weight of the tension that had filled the room seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of calm and security in his presence.

But just as he looked at you with the utmost concern, a sudden realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. The kids. They needed you. Panic surged through you like a tidal wave. Without a moment's hesitation, you broke free from Aaron's grasp and rushed past him, your mind consumed by one thought: the safety of the children.

"Aaron!" you called out, your voice trembling with fear. "We have to check on them, Marc's father—he can't hurt them, right?" Your words spilled out in a frantic rush as you bolted towards the bedroom door, your heart hammering in your chest knowing they were fine but fear bested you in the moment.

Every worst-case scenario played out in your mind, fueling your panic as you reached for the doorknob. But before you could open it, Aaron's strong hand gripped your arm, halting your frantic movements.

"Wait, Y/N," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos of your thoughts. "Take a breath. The children are safe. You need to trust that."

Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to rein in your panic. "But what if something happened?" you choked out, tears blurring your vision. "I can't bear the thought of them being scared and alone."

Aaron's gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes as he pulled you into a reassuring embrace. "I know, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a soothing anchor in the storm of your fear. "But right now, we need to stay calm for them. They need you to be strong. Kids can sense these things." His BAU training was working diligently as he calmed you down just outside Marc’s bedroom door trying to stay as quiet as possible. He, better than anyone, knew how these things could traumatize kids. He had seen it time and time again as he worked these cases.

While his words sank in, you felt some of the tension begin to ebb away, replaced by a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil. With Aaron's steady presence grounding you, you took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead. With a newfound sense of determination, Aaron gently guides you back to the living room, his steady presence a calming force amidst the chaos. As you sink onto the couch, still trembling with adrenaline, he kneels beside you, his eyes filled with reassurance.

"Listen, Y/N," Aaron begins, his voice steady and calm. "I'll go check on Marc and Jack, okay? You stay here and try to relax. They need to see that everything's going to be alright."

You nod, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you at Aaron's words. With a reassuring squeeze of your hand, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards the bedroom door. As he disappears from view, you can't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind. What if Marc's father returns? What if Aaron can't calm the children down? But you push those thoughts aside, trusting in Aaron's ability to handle the situation. You focus instead on taking deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart as you wait for news.

Moments later, Aaron returns, a small smile playing on his lips. "They're okay," he says softly, his voice filled with relief. "A little shaken up, but okay. They’ll be right down; they’re changing for bed."

A wave of relief washes over you, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Aaron," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you for coming so quick.”

He nods, his eyes filled with understanding as he takes a seat beside you on the couch. Together, you sit in companionable silence, the tension slowly dissipating as you find solace in each other's presence. As you sit together on the couch, the weight of the situation in the air slowly beginning to dissipate, a tremor of unease still lingers, casting a shadow over the room. Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes down the hallway, and before you can react, the two kids come bounding into the room more concerned about you than anything.

In a flurry of motion, both Jack and Marc jump on top of you. "Miss Y/N!" Jack cries out, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you okay?"

Their presence is like a balm to your frazzled nerves, and you reach out to them, pulling them into a tight embrace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you hold them close, feeling the weight of their love and concern wash over you like a soothing tide. Aaron watched from beside as the two little boys clinged to the loving presence that you were.

"I'm okay, sweetheart," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm okay."

But Marc's small frame trembles with fear as he clings to you desperately, his tears mingling with yours as he buries his face against your shoulder. "I'm scared, Mommy," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of Dad. I don't want him to hurt you."

Your heart breaks at his words, and you hold him close, offering whatever comfort you can in the face of his overwhelming terror. "I know, baby" you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. "But Dad's gone now, and he won't hurt us. I promise you that."

As you speak, Jack wraps his arms around you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. "We'll protect you, Miss Y/N," he says firmly, his voice filled with determination. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you look at your son and defacto son now, feeling an overwhelming surge of love and gratitude for the brave, compassionate young boys they've become. With their arms wrapped around you, you know that together, you can face anything that comes your way, united in strength and love.

Marc clinged to you, his trembling form gradually relaxing in your embrace. Jack's voice cuts through the tension-filled air, filled with desperation and fear. "Daddy, please stay," Jack pleads, his eyes wide and pleading as he looks up at Aaron. "I don't want anything to happen to Miss Y/N or Marc."

Aaron's gaze softens as he looks down at his son's friend, his heart breaking at the fear in Jack's eyes. Without hesitation, he nods, his voice filled with reassurance. "Of course, Jack. I'll stay."

With a sense of relief washing over the room, Aaron gently guides Marc and Jack to their beds, tucking them in with care and tenderness you hadn’t seen from a father before. As he leans down to brush a gentle kiss on each of their foreheads, you can't help but feel a swell of gratitude towards him as you watch from the doorway letting him take control.

Once the boys are settled, Aaron returns to the living room with you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of concern and determination. The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm, intimate light over the room, accentuating the vulnerability in both your gazes.

"I don't think any of us should be alone tonight," he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity, as if he's making a silent vow to protect you from any harm that may come your way. "Would you like me to stay?"

Your heart skips a beat at his offer, a blush rising to your cheeks as you meet his gaze. The rush of warmth flooding through you at the thought of having him by your side through the night is overwhelming. It's more than just a gesture of protection; it feels like an unspoken promise of comfort and solace, wrapped up in the tenderest of sentiments.

"Yes, please. If you don’t mind," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes shining with gratitude and a hint of something more.

With a small, gentle smile that lights up his eyes, Aaron settles himself beside you on the couch. The soft brush of his hand against yours sends a flutter of butterflies through your stomach, igniting a spark of something that feels incredibly special. “Not at all.”

As you lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, a sense of peace washes over you. In that moment, with Aaron's strong arms wrapped around you, everything feels right in the world.

His gaze softens as he looks at you, his voice filled with sincerity and affection. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N," he whispers, his words carrying a warmth that melts your heart. "You're not alone. Never will be."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the sweetness of the moment. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth of your connection.

With a contented sigh, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you know that together, you can face anything that comes your way, united in a love that feels sweeter and more precious than you ever could have imagined.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

[ewyuzu]

Unspoken Desires

Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

warning: intense teasing, passionate kissing, sensual tension, mild possessiveness, emotional vulnerability

- nsfw. minors dni!

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art credit: @Neconi_o0 on twt!

- source from pinterest.

The soft hum of the evening surrounded you as you sat in your dimly lit living room, the glow from a single lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the space. The day had been long, filled with endless tasks that seemed to blur together, but now, in the quiet of the night, there was a sense of peace. You had just poured yourself a glass of wine, hoping to unwind, when you heard a knock at the door.

Curious, you set your glass down and made your way to the entrance, your heart skipping a beat as you wondered who could be visiting you at this hour. As you opened the door, you were greeted by the sight of Nanami Kento, his tall figure silhouetted against the faint light of the hallway. His appearance was as immaculate as always—perfectly pressed suit, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and an air of composed confidence that made your pulse quicken.

“Kento,” you greeted him, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile as his gaze met yours. “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he replied, his voice calm and steady, though there was something in his tone that made your stomach flutter.

You stepped aside to let him in, the familiar scent of his cologne filling the air as he brushed past you. There was something about Nanami’s presence that always managed to command the room, even in the most casual of settings. You closed the door behind him, suddenly feeling the weight of his proximity, the way he seemed to take up all the space around you with just his presence.

“Can I get you something to drink?” you offered, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“No, thank you,” he replied, his eyes following you as you moved back toward the living room. There was an intensity in his gaze, something that made you feel as if he was seeing right through you, reading every thought that flitted through your mind.

You returned to your spot on the couch, but you felt a bit more on edge now, hyper-aware of every move you made. Nanami followed you, taking a seat beside you, his posture as relaxed and composed as ever. But there was something different in the air tonight, an undercurrent of tension that seemed to crackle between you.

“How was your day?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, yet there was an edge to it that made your pulse quicken.

“Busy,” you replied, trying to focus on the conversation, but it was difficult with the way he was looking at you—so intently, so focused. “Yours?”

“Productive,” he said simply, though his eyes didn’t leave yours, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. It was as if he was studying you, taking in every detail, and it made you feel both nervous and exhilarated.

There was a brief silence, not uncomfortable but charged with an unspoken tension that made the air feel heavy. You could feel your heart beating faster, the anticipation building as you wondered why Nanami was really here, what he wanted to say—or do.

“Kento…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, as you tried to break the silence, to find some clarity in the situation. But before you could continue, he reached out, his hand gently grasping your chin, tilting your head up so that you were forced to look directly into his eyes.

The intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch, your thoughts scattering as you were drawn into the depths of those dark, unwavering eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a simple, tender gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You look tense,” he observed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, but the truth was that you were anything but alright. There was something about the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you, that made your thoughts spin and your heart race. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, like he could see right through you, see the way your body was responding to his touch.

Nanami’s thumb lingered on your lip for a moment longer before he slowly let his hand drop, but the sensation of his touch remained, a phantom memory that left you wanting more. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, but the tension between you was palpable, thickening with each passing second.

“Kento…” you began again, but he silenced you with a look, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your face.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, his voice calm, yet there was an underlying urgency that made your heart skip a beat. “Something that I can’t keep to myself any longer.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to continue, your mind racing with possibilities. What could he possibly have to say that would warrant this kind of intensity, this kind of tension?

Nanami’s gaze softened slightly as he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself for what he was about to say. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he finally admitted, his voice low and filled with a raw honesty that sent a thrill through you. “Every time I’m near you… it’s like I’m fighting a losing battle.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed what he had just said, the confession sending a wave of heat through you. You had always known there was something between you, an unspoken connection that neither of you had ever acknowledged. But hearing him say it out loud, in that deep, steady voice, made it all the more real—and all the more overwhelming.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The tension between you had reached a breaking point, and you could feel the electricity crackling in the air, the intensity of your feelings for him clashing with the fear of what might happen next.

Nanami didn’t give you a chance to overthink it. He leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses. The touch was light, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through your entire body.

Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively leaned into the kiss, your lips parting slightly as you sought more of him, more of the warmth and comfort that only he could provide. Nanami’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the tenderness giving way to something more urgent, more passionate.

His other hand found your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The intensity of the kiss stole your breath away, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull back. There was a hunger in the way he kissed you, a desperation that mirrored your own, as if he had been holding back for far too long and could no longer resist the pull between you.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself. Nanami’s eyes were dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His thumb brushed over your cheek, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a mix of disbelief and exhilaration at what had just happened. You had always known that there was something between you and Nanami, but you had never imagined that it would come to this—that he would be the one to finally break the silence between you, to admit what you had both been feeling for so long.

“Kento…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. The simple act of touching him felt like a revelation, a confirmation that this was real, that you weren’t dreaming.

Nanami leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if savouring the feel of your hand on his skin. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that you had never seen before.

“I’m not going to let you go,” he said, his voice firm, resolute. “Not now, not ever.”

The intensity of his words took your breath away, and you could feel your heart swell with emotion. This was what you had always wanted, what you had always dreamed of—a connection with someone who understood you, who wanted you just as much as you wanted them.

Nanami’s hand slid down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pulled you closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I need you to tell me,” he continued, his voice softening, “what do you want?”

Your breath hitched at the question, the weight of it pressing down on you. What did you want? The answer was simple, really. You wanted him. You wanted everything that he was offering—his strength, his vulnerability, his unwavering devotion. You wanted to be his, and for him to be yours, in every way that mattered.

“I want you, Kento,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened at your words, and a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Then that’s all that matters,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture of reassurance.

“Because I’m yours, completely,” he said, his voice a deep, soothing rumble that resonated through you, filling you with a warmth you hadn’t known you were missing.

You felt a rush of emotions, your heart swelling with something too big to name. In that moment, everything else seemed to fall away—the doubts, the fears, the hesitations. All that mattered was that he was here, with you, and that he was offering himself to you without reservation.

Nanami’s hand, still holding yours, tightened slightly as if to anchor you to this moment. He leaned in again, but this time there was no hesitation, no gentleness. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was both possessive and tender, a promise sealed with every breath you shared.

You responded in kind, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The kiss deepened, the intensity of it making your knees weak, but you didn’t care. You were lost in him, in the way he tasted, the way he felt against you, the way he seemed to know exactly how to unravel you with just a touch.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves. The world around you felt distant, blurred at the edges, but the connection between you was crystal clear, a lifeline that neither of you was willing to let go of.

“I’m not going to lie,” Nanami said, his voice rough with the remnants of the kiss, “I’ve been holding back for a long time. But I can’t do that anymore.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and searching, trying to understand the depth of his words. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. “I mean that I want you. All of you,” he said, his hand sliding from your waist to your hip, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. “And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

The confession sent a shiver down your spine, your entire body tingling with anticipation. There was something so raw, so honest in his words, that you couldn’t help but feel the weight of them settle deep within you.

“I want you too, Kento,” you whispered, your voice filled with the same intensity that you saw reflected in his eyes. “I always have.”

He let out a breath, as if he had been waiting for those words, and the relief in his expression was palpable. “Then there’s no reason to hold back anymore,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending another wave of heat through your body.

His breath was hot against your skin, his voice low and laced with a teasing edge that made your heart race. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you shiver. “How hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words sank in, each one a tantalizing tease that made your pulse quicken. “Kento…” you breathed, but you couldn’t find the words to say more.

Nanami pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with a smouldering intensity that made your knees weak. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent a thrill through you. “But if you don’t, I’m going to show you just how much I’ve been holding back.”

The challenge in his eyes made your breath catch, your heart pounding so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more—more of his touch, more of his kisses, more of the connection that made you feel alive in ways you hadn’t before.

You didn’t say anything, but the way you leaned into him, your body arching slightly toward his, was all the answer he needed. A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle this time.

The teasing edge in his voice gave way to something more primal, more urgent as his hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the line of your spine, the softness of your skin. His touch was both demanding and tender, a perfect balance of control and passion that made your head spin.

Nanami’s lips moved from your mouth to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one a brand, a claim that made you feel like you were his and his alone. His teeth grazed your collarbone, a playful bite that made you gasp, your fingers clutching at his shirt as you fought to steady yourself.

“Do you like that?” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire, his breath hot against your neck. “Do you like the way I’m touching you?”

You couldn’t find your voice, couldn’t form the words to respond, but the way your body reacted—the way you arched into him, the way your breath hitched, the way you clung to him—was answer enough.

Nanami’s hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you, until you could feel every inch of him against you. The heat between you was almost unbearable, the tension so thick that it felt like you were both teetering on the edge of something far more intense.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Every time I see you, every time I’m near you, I have to fight the urge to pin you against the nearest wall and take you right there.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to catch your breath. There was a fire in his eyes, a possessive, all-consuming need that matched your own, and it left you trembling with anticipation.

“Kento,” you breathed, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with the same desire that you saw reflected in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, but the way his lips crashed against yours, the way his hands gripped your hips with a possessive need, told you everything you needed to know. This was more than just a moment of passion—this was a connection that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

And now that it had, there was no turning back.

[smelt-starverse]

On the Amphibia Timeskip Designs

Hi! I know I normally don't do analysis posts like these, but I got into an interesting conversation (read: infodumped hard to a couple of unsuspecting friends) about the subject on Discord earlier and I felt like it might be enjoyed by you all. Anyways, to begin...

I think the best place to start is Marcy. The thing that jumps out to me about her new design the most to me is her color scheme.

Across the board, everything is brighter and more saturated. Her dark blue coat has been swapped for a bright blue jacket, her dull green skirt has been traded for some vibrant green pants, her shirt has gone from a light gray to an off-white, and her debatably brown boots have been replaced with light brown, almost orange shoes.

Through the entire series, her hair is neat, properly combed (when not messed up by water or helmet-hair, anyways), and it's got this layer of gloss to it. It's a pretty innocuous set of details...

...but I think the picture comes together better when we compare it to her hair in the finale. It's less neat, it's messy in places, but it's not greasy anymore. It's not constrained at all, it's healthy and doing its own thing. And I think, in a way, that applies to her outfit as a whole. Throughout the "present" of Amphibia, Marcy is nearly always wearing a uniform of some kind; her school uniform, the Newtopian Night Guard uniform, the Core's greaves, it's always a look forced on her. In the finale, though, she finally gets to make her own decision on what to wear. It's casual, but it's her, emphasized by the personal touches like the pins on her jacket and the figures on her bag that expand out from little expressions of freedom on her original design. She's even got ear piercings, something typically associated with rebellion and freedom. She's finally allowed to be her own person. Not anybody else's, just... herself.

My thoughts on Sasha and Anne are a bit less in-depth, but there's definitely interesting stuff to mention regardless.

It might not seem like Sasha's changed much visually during the timeskip. Her hair is cut pretty much the same way, she still has a pink accessory on her head, she's still wearing a skirt and a jacket (like she did over her school uniform), and... I think that's intentional. It's a subtle sign that most of Sasha's growth wasn't off-screen during a ten-year time jump...

...it was during Season 3. With every redesign she got from her Barrel's Warhammer redesign onwards, her design got softer. Less spikes, more rounded edges, less rigidity. She even undid her ponytail, not holding her hair back anymore. Her reds got less area on her design, until on the timeskip look they were pretty much replaced entirely with a simple purple skirt. All that aggressiveness is gone, replaced with a comparatively soft design...

...and with the addition of a blue shirt to her color palette. It comes off as a little random, but considering her new profession as a therapist, I think a light and soft color palette featuring hues that are easy on the eyes is an important part of that. It's subtle, but I think it helps a lot.

And finally... Anne.

I find Anne's timeskip design to be the most difficult to talk about in this context, because it's mostly just a regular uniform. The green polo, beige shorts, white undershirt, and lanyard are just what she has to wear to work, and I find it a little difficult to find meaning from it... but that doesn't mean there's nothing there.

Let's get the obvious one out of the way. The leaf scrunchy is a cute way to call back to Anne's hair leaves, a pretty defining aspect of her original design dating all the way back to the first episode of the show that followed her all through her journey in Amphibia. It's a fun little way to reminisce on her past... but it's not the only part of her outfit dedicated to reminiscing.

That little blue flower band on her wrist is also easy to miss, but pretty obvious what it's referencing once you notice it.

It's most obviously a callback to the blue flower crown from earlier in the same episode, but Anne's almost always been associated with blue and flowers, with even her energy aura in her Calamity form taking the shape of blue flower petals.

But those are just simple callbacks. I think the two things that tell us the most about Anne's growth and who she is now... are these.

For her entire exodus in Amphibia, Anne's had one ragged shoe to keep her company. She wasn't ready for an adventure in the swamp. Now, she has proper rain boots, something designed to actually withstand the kind of work she does now. She's fully become comfortable with where she is and who she wants to be. And, of course, there's that little bandage on her leg. Perhaps it's a sign that she's still going out there, undergoing little adventures, taking risks and getting into trouble. Maybe it's a sign that that spirit we come to know so well over the course of the show is still alive and well... or maybe it's where she takes her estrogen shots

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … LIE TO GIRLS ♡

track eleven of the short n’sweet series. pairing: drivinginstructor!pope x reader. based loosely on the song lie to girls by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

you were the one that told pope it was probably best you just stayed friends. kept things professional. he was your driving instructor after all — and you were actually trying to pass your test so you could gain all that freedom from your home you’d been desperate for. it was long overdue, years of putting it off leading to this set of lessons, and you’d spent it gaining a weird awkward situationship with your teacher. nice one.

you thought you were doing well today, you know — with the whole casual thing. you’d kept conversation polite, asked mainly driving related questions — you didn’t even take the opportunity at red lights to eye fuck him, though you were tempted. black sweatpants, really? he knew those were your weakness. well, you thought he knew — pope wasn’t that cruel to tease you.

it’s nearing the end of the lesson, when pope asks you to pull into the gas station so he can run inside and grab himself a coffee. something about how he “was up way too late last night. seriously irresponsible.” you didn’t mind, it felt… domestic. like you two were hanging out by choice for a few moments and not because you were paying him. he’d asked you if you wanted anything too and you nibbled your lip, heart skipping a beat at the casual way he asked. it was so… boyfriend, you know? you shake yourself out of it. you asked for it.

feeling a chill through the open window once he’s inside paying, you reach into the back — scrambling for what you knew would be your jacket, somewhere back there. you couldn’t remember where exactly you’d tossed it, always a little careless with it, but you had decided now you needed that comfort. your fingers grace a scrap of material, one hundred percent not your jacket — but you’re curious enough to scrunch your nose and lift it from your awkward craned position to see what it was.

a pair of panties dangle from your finger. a pair that were absolutely, unmistakably, not yours.

you gasp, tossing them back into the depths of where they came from and spinning round in your seat, deciding you didn’t care that much about the jacket anyways. plus, the chill you once felt had been replaced by a hot flush of swirling emotions, the sensation prickling your skin and welling up your eyes like it was trying to escape from the inside out. he was fucking another girl.

you may have been the one to friendzone him in order to concentrate on passing, sure. it was a decision you made on a whim when you couldn’t concentrate because all you could think about was getting dicked in the back seat. maybe you didn’t mean it — but you figured you had the space to be able to work that out, maybe renegotiate the terms. you didn’t realise he’d jump straight in the sack with the next student that got in the car, you thought you were special. you had a special thing going.

you jump out of your skin when he opens the passenger seat door once more, pausing with wide eyes when he saw your reaction.

“are you… good?” he lowers himself slowly onto the seat, eyeing you in near amusement and you clear your throat, shaking it off.

“huh? yeah! sorry, was just… thinking about my test.” you make up on the spot, readying yourself to pull out of the station. he buys it, visibly relaxing.

“you’ll do fine. i’m a great teacher.” he smiles, before taking a sip of his coffee. he’s joking with you, and it feels like sticking pins in your eyes to force a smile back at him.

you’re half way home, and the silence is comfortable. to him. to you, you’re itching to speak and soon you can’t hold back. you didn’t wanna come across too confrontational and make yourself look crazy, especially after you’d called things quits (if it hadn’t already been mentioned…) so you decided on some subtle prodding.

“you said you’re tired… what did you get up to last night?” you attempted nonchalance, only glancing at him once but overall keeping your eyes on the road.

“pull in a little to the right here,” he instructs before relaxing in his seat. “uh, usual stuff. messing around with my friends and staying out too late. you know how they are.” he answers and you hum. were you really?

“you ever go out with them in this car?” you glance at him again, and he’s already looking at you. it’s a regular gaze, a soft one, big brown eyes nearly distracting you from the traffic.

“this car? nooo, no no. not allowed. this is my company car and i’m technically only supposed to use it for teaching.” he shrugs. your stomach twists.

“got you.”

it’s silent until you pull into your driveway. this was usually the part where you’d sit and giggle at his silly jokes for a while, share a few kisses before you’d rip yourself away to go back into your house. instead you drum your fingers on the steering wheel.

“pope?” you sigh. he seems a little on edge now, picking up on your uncharacteristic quietness. maybe there was some hope in his eyes too, but you might’ve made it up.

“…y—yeah?”

“are you seeing anyone new?” you turn fully to him, eyes dancing between his wide ones. you try to remain neutral, unexpressive as you watch a range of emotions fly over his face. he blinks, eyes searching your face and he hesitates, which tells you all you need to know. much to your surprise, the next word that comes from his mouth is—

“no. no one.”

your heart sinks. pope was many things, but you didn’t take him for a liar. like a final spark on a dying campfire, something tiny and hopeful dwindles within you. a man would only lie and say no if he still had hopes of rekindling things with you. you take that chance, body doing the rest and lean forward. he’s tense, still, but closes his eyes peacefully when you press your lips ever so gently to his. when you pull away, you return him one last solemn look.

“keep it that way.” you nod, before climbing out the car and heading inside.

[yestrday]

–BLUSH BLUSH ! anemo | hydro | geo | pyro

⤷ yan! hybrid! kamisato ayato, childe, xingqiu 

summary ! your aquatic hybrids are just as playful as the ebbing tides of the sea, and very much in love with you. the prime residents of your manmade lake just behind your house, you foolishly trust them enough not to question why the water’s surface grows red when they submerge into its depths.

content ! inaccurate demonstrations of their animal’s physical traits; any science majors this is the time to not read any further lest you want a headache; mentions of murder; thoughts of corruption; sadism; mentions of a leash; toxic behavior

notes ! uh wow did not notice theres like only 3 hydro men and yet it took me five business days to write this lmao.. anyways enjoy

AYATO scares you the first time you meet. on that particular day, the sun is bright and makes the man-made lake behind your house glisten ever so beautifully. it’s a sad attempt on your father’s part to appease your loneliness, but you can’t deny how happy you are when you find out about it. riding a rowboat into the center of the lake, you enjoy the wonderful weather as you relax under your parasol, alongside the tea and biscuits aether has prepared for you…

that is, if the tea hadn’t ran out when you weren’t watching. you swear there was tea in the thermostat just awhile ago. as you ponder in confusion about its sudden disappearance, you spy a pair of glowing eyes peeking at you fro just under the ripples of the water. when you try to lean in closer, you scream in shock when the creature’s head pops out from the water and nudges your head. “hello~” the creature, covered in glistening blue scales and sporting a coy grin, greets you even as you jump back. “my, that’s not how you greet a tenant of your lands, do you now?”

AYATO helps balance the rowboat when you almost tip it over from your shock. in fact, he actually helps push the rowboat towards the shore so that he can finally have a proper conversation without you almost falling into the water every now and then. now that you’re on stable ground, you can finally get a good view of him– inhumanly white skin tinged with the undertones of blue, and shiny blue denticles covering his limbs and temples. and when smiles, it’s rather… deadly, if the sharp rows of teeth have anything to say for themselves. he leans casually on a rock, and lets his fin (your anxiety increases when you begin to realize it’s shaped like a shark’s) rest under the sun.

you quickly find out the sawshark hybrid has been living in your lake just a bit after it was finished building. he was busy running away from something, and he wasn’t about to pass up a good lake. it unsettles you when he tells you that he was there from the very moment your father’s driver dropped you off at the mansion and could even recount the day you met aether. his shark’s grin grows larger when you shudder.

when you bring him back to the mansion, everyone is on their guard against AYATO. his eye smile seems cunning, and he touches you a tad too flirtatiously for everyone’s taste. the only one who seems happy about his appearance is thoma, who apparently has a shared history with the man, and they quickly adapt a master-servant relationship. thoma seems to be at his every beck and call as he is at yours, and sometimes you wonder if you’re sharing the title as ‘master of the house’ now.

AYATO seems to have a strange fondness for teasing you. as his long fingers trail your cheek and lift you by the chin, he delights in seeing you all flustered and stammering. he finds you adorable, like one would do a pet. he finds it fascinating how so many hybrids, both mythical and normal ones alike, have become so subservient to you. he understands them though, really– after all, how could one not fall for a human as sweet and genuine as you? you take care of them even though you could easily exploit them, and you have no ulterior motives like the rest of your folk.

AYATO likes to watch the events of the house unfold from the shadows. he’s not one for actually being part of the drama, but if there’s something going on, he’s sure to know about it. in fact, some of them may even be orchestrated by him. but whenever the involved hybrid angrily comes up to confront him, all they are left with is a coy smile and the very damning fact that they have no evidence on him.

if you’re thrusted into the elite life, you can come to AYATO for guidance, but do be wary when doing so, though. in his home country, he was one of the more important elites, so he’s well-aware of the trickeries and betrayal that comes with this sort of lifestyle. he finds it very amusing that your loaf of a father would push a greenhorn like you into such an intricate environment. it’s like he wants to see your downfall. but no worries~! mature and responsible AYATO is there to guide you!

beware though, AYATO is very strict when it comes to your training. after all, you are sort of his master, no? and he can’t have an incompetent buffoon for a master. he’ll make you repeat and repeat his lessons until you’re crying and your hands are sore from raising the teacup the right way. at his side, thoma wants to come forward and soothe you, but all it takes is a knowing glance from ayato to make him stop. tsk tsk… come on, master. you’re the child of a billionaire as well as the beloved human of sooo many hybrids. these trials are for your own good…

or so he says, with a sadistic grin on his face. his blue eyes shimmer as you rub your tears away and continue on with the training. ah… you really are quite the adorable pet. sharks don’t easily bow their heads to anyone, you know? much less filthy, corrupt humans. he doesn’t understand why your hybrids are so eager to lay their head at your feet, when you’re soooo much prettier with a leash around your neck ♡

RELATIONSHIPS: ayato is never seen without thoma by his side, and many of the hybrids actually seem to pity the dog hybrid as he’s the number one victim of ayato’s pranks. the inazuman hybrids are actually quite respectful of him, minus itto who has no sense of wariness and just ropes ayato in whatever game he has in mind. sometimes, he manages to involve aether in running an errand for him, much to the chagrin of the catboy.

AJAX shows up at your house as he’s tagging behind a disgruntled aether. you swear you could mistake him for a fox hybrid had it not been for the pointy horn (er… tusk?) on his head. he just… gives off that aura, like the coy smile on his face and the fluffy ginger hair. from what aether tells you, they met while aether was out for a walk and the man just immediately pounced on him and challenged him to a duel. judging by the injuries, it was a close fight, but aether ultimately came out the victor. you catch aether sending wary glances towards the narwhal, who ignores this in favor of smiling at you.

AJAX immediately greets you, a friendly and curious look on his face as he inspects the master of the hybrid who bested him. "hello there~" he's intimidatingly tall, and a closer look at him lets you see the faint shimmer of the mottled skin from his neck to around the edges of his face. "you wouldn't mind sheltering me for a liiittle bit, won't you? i can't seem to rest until i've bested my comrade over there! that, and–" his eyes glint with a crude expression as the shadowy eyes of your hybrids glare from the corners. "– you've got a pretty interesting cast here."

when AJAX joins your crew, it seems like there's a plus one headache for aether. he's challenging every other hybrid he comes across, but he seems like he's pestering aether the most. he always gets his ass beaten, and though he isn't actually upset about it, he uses this as an excuse for you to comfort him. he comes running to you with fake tears and rushes to hug you— much to aether's chagrin— whining about how your cat was bullying him (not minding the fact that you've been watching them from when AJAX challenged him out of nowhere). hugging you from behind, he fake sobs into your neck, all the while locking you into place with his thick thighs.

AJAX takes good care of you, like how an older brother would. when he's not purposely irritating the other hybrids by being overly clingy with you, he's gentle with his touches. he's also a good help with chores and he'll make you your favorite foods! it's quite obvious that he loves to dote on you, and that's one quality the others can respect. oftentimes, however, you become too adorable for your own good and he can't help but squeeze you in for a hug! that's when the other hybrids swoop in to pry him off you.

he finds the thought of pretty little you sequestered away in some mansion away from the cityscape somewhat… romantic? or more appropriately, appealing. his sick perversion convolutes your pitiful situation when he thinks of how easily he can just take you for himself. those with similar delusions may want to preserve your innocence, but AJAX fantasizes about how far he can corrupt you. did you really plan on staying quiet in this lonely mansion all your life? are you not angry at how easily your father can abandon you? you’re the heir to multimillion corporation, for goodness sake! you deserve more than this!

AJAX is more than willing to bloody his hands for you, should you ask of him. in fact, he already does so without you ever asking for it. he truly cares for you, and he can eliminate any threats to your life and position while laughing as he does so. if you’re a bit more innocent and sheltered, he won’t really let you know about his doings. however, if you’re the one who explicitly ordered the strike… well, AJAX will definitely seek your praise. clinging all over your, soaked in the blood of your enemy, he near grinds his body against you as he begs for your sweet, sweet praise… although it’s also sexy when you ignore his pleas.

RELATIONSHIPS: zhongli and ajax are a strange pair often seen together. while they talk over tea together, there is a stifling atmosphere as they passive-aggressively one-up each other. xiao is wary of him and is only second in beating him up. aether, of course, takes the number one spot, as ajax holds him in high regard than anyone in the house.

a rare trip to a lake– not your lake, but another one– greets you with disaster. the wind blows too hard, and your boat is swayed by the wind until you topple over and crash into the water. your hybrids are on the shore, none of them too adept at swimming, and strain as you might, you find that your underused limbs aren’t strong enough to pull you to shore. but suddenly you feel a pair of arms embrace you, before quickly swimming back up.

your savior drags you to shore, where your hybrids fuss over you while you cough up the water in your lungs. when you turn to meet your savior, you don’t know why you’re surprised when you meet another hybrid– an otter, he introduces himself, if it wasn’t evident enough by the long, fur-covered tail on his back. XINGQIU greets you with a gentlemanly smile, and you find yourself gaping at his pretty face before you suddenly thank him and call him your hero. XINGQIU is pleasantly surprised at this— so pleased, in fact, that he decides to come home with you.

seeing your collection of hybrids, XINGQIU is excited at the thought of meeting so many mythical as well as heroic entities. not only that, but he’s plenty delighted at your personal library. he’s usually engrossed in fiction about heroes and whatnot, and more often than not you’ll see the boy cuddled in the library’s sofa with his nose in a book. if he’s not in the library or playing another prank on chongyun, then he’s at the lake, floating contentedly on the water or reading a book on the riverbanks.

just on the foot of the hill your mansion sits on top, XINGQIU is well-known in the local village for his chivalrous deeds. it’s a quiet rural town, and he delights in its simplicity. when he’s down at the village for the walk, he’ll catch thieves and turn them or pay for the food of a hungry group of children. he’s among the well-liked hybrids of yours, and is a favorite by the local mothers. he’s not so much a favorite back at the mansion though. him being cheeky as well as prone to mischief has made the other members grow wary of him, even his best friend, chongyun. all this he laughs at, and continues to play pranks when other’s aren’t looking.

XINGQIU often shows an eagerness to do what’s good— for humanity, for his friends, and for you. while he’s a bit lazy when it comes to actually helping with the housework, he won’t stand for any sort of injustice that happens to you. whether you are falsely slandered or attacked by paid assassins, XINGQIU makes it his mission to save you. he’s so caught up in the thrill and pleasure of being your hero— the day you first called him that replays in his mind over and over again.

he’s so caught up in playing your hero that XINGQIU willingly blurs the line between chivalry and self-serving. is he really doing this because your opponents are unjustified in attacking a naive and defenseless person like you? or is he doing this because he enjoys you clinging to him and thanking him, singing his praises as you call him your hero over and over again.

XINGQIU loves you, that much is true. he loves you the point of never wanting to let you go, and he truly means to become the chivalrous hero he reads about in his books. but his more… playful (?) side wants to see you tear up a bit more, as you sit dazed on the floor with your attacker’s blood all over you and him at your front as he slices them up in the name of justice.

RELATIONSHIPS: he and chongyun are best buds, but it seems that xingqiu always has the upper hand in their relationship. zhongli sometimes acts as a mentor to the both of them as he trains them in the martial arts. he tags along with aether when he makes grocery runs down the village, as well as shows off his training to him every once in a while to show how much he’s improving.

tags: @probablynoposts​

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: daddy issues, poor father-daughter relationship, jealousy, (this chapter is just like pure fluff though 😚)

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 5: Allow yourself to be happy, even if it scares you

The next few weeks drifted by in a blur of monotony, which honestly, was a nice break from everything that had been going on in the last months. She barely saw Oscar as he was away racing, which was disappointing especially since she wanted to spend time with him now that they’d finally reached an understanding that they would try to be something.

They did call nearly every day, managing and manouevering around time differences. They were only about 7 hours apart, so it was always midday for one of them, and night or morning for the other. It usually ended up that it was always midday for her, and night for Oscar, who was at the track during the day. 

Even though he was a couple thousand miles away in Russia, it didn’t feel that far each time they called. Sometimes they’d do facetime- sometimes it would just be their voices. Whatever it was, it was always nice to have his voice on the other end of the line, familiar and warm. 

In the days before Mark headed off to Russia, she found herself trying harder with him. She’d learned that showing an interest in Oscar was the key to unlocking even the most guarded parts of Mark, so she’d use it to her advantage. 

It was definitely a bitter pill to swallow- realising that her dad would likely always favor his protégé over her, but accepting it made life easier- tension at home, which had been a constant undercurrent for as long as she could remember, seemed to ease. Conversations with him became bearable, even if they were mostly about Oscar and nearly never about anything to do with her own like.

And, if she were honest with herself, it was nice to hear more about Oscar, even if it was through her dad’s lens. It gave her insight into his life that she didn’t always get from their calls. When they called, it was hardly racing related beyond the initial question of How’d the car feel today? or, How was training?. They’d talk like any other couple their age would- favourite movies, music and artists, things they wanted to do when Oscar got back.

She actually did want to ask Oscar more about his racing, because she couldn’t help but feel like he was sometimes intentionally swerving around the question because he assumed she would hear about it enough at home. 

In reality, she had an interest in racing because of Oscar. It was boring coming from her dad, but when it came from Oscar- all the passion and excitement that his voice carried when he spoke about it, she was fully content for it to be the only thing they ever talked about. 

She could’ve just asked Oscar directly, ask him to talk to her about it because she actually is interested, but there was something about the idea of being seen as clingy that held her back. They’re separate people still, and maybe Oscar avoids racing when speaking to her because it’s his thing separate from her, it’s his thing.

And she didn’t want to intrude on that and make him feel like he has to let her in on every bit of him. He’d probably get silently annoyed with her over time, being too nice to say anything- he’d settle with silently stewing in irritation. The idea of being a clingy and over invasive girlfriend that her boyfriend secretly hates truly haunted her. 

Girlfriend? Boyfriend? It wasn’t something they had officially decided on. They hadn’t discussed labels, hadn’t defined what this was, but it was clear they were exclusive. They were in that liminal space between something casual and something real, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate it.

It’s something they’ll hopefully discuss after the race week is over, because she’s been driving herself a little crazy wondering just how real this is. She knows that the depth and truth of a relationship don’t rely on a label, but it’s something she’s always valued. She doesn’t just want to be with Oscar- she wants to be able to call him her boyfriend, to tell people she’s in a relationship, hear Oscar refer to her as his girlfriend.

When Mark did head off to join Oscar in Russia, the house became just her’s for the next couple of weeks, the emptiness giving her a full sense of freedom. She could’ve hosted so many parties- invite absolutely anyone she wants to and however many people. Yet, she’d rather have been with Oscar in Sochi.

Her dad didn’t give her a reason why she wasn’t coming to this race, he just didn’t come into her room one day and tell her to pack a bag with clothes matching the weather in wherever the F2 race would be hosted. 

The solitude of being completely alone in the house wasn’t too bad though- it gave her time to think, to reflect on everything that had happened.

One evening, as the sun dips low in the sky and paints her room in shades of orange and pink, she lays sprawled out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet is almost too loud, her breathing being the only thing to break the stillness. 

It’s been too long of being just her in the house. Even though it’s not as if the house is always loud and busy. It’s often just her and her dad, both of whom are naturally rather quiet, yet, there’s always some sort of noise, whether that’s one of them having a friend over or someone being on a call, there’s some sort of background constantly there.

Inviting some friends over is obviously an option, but she doesn’t think she’d be great company right now- too busy moping around and missing Oscar. To try and fill the emptiness, she reaches for her phone, scrolling aimlessly through instagram. 

She follows both alpine and prema for pictures of Oscar, and embarrassingly even occasionally checks a fanpage for him- one that posts every single new piece of content of him. There’s one posted only a few hours ago- a candid shot of him taken at the track, his helmet under his arm, looking off into the distance with that serious expression he often wore before a race. 

He looks adorable, even all stone faced and emotionless. Before she can talk herself out of it, she sends off a quick message. 

Hey, hope everything’s going well in Russia. I miss you 😚

Simple, to the point, and not too clingy, she hopes. Neither of them are strangers to a heart or kiss emoji after their texts, so she doesn’t worry that she going too far with it. 

A response comes in quicker than expected,

Miss you too. Can’t wait to see you when I’m back ❤️.

Even though it’s just a few words on a screen, simply knowing Oscar’s on the other end of the phone and thinking about her is enough to set her mind at ease. She shuts her phone off, content with just knowing he’s on the other side. She can’t spend all her days patiently waiting for him to get back, empty eyes and unmoving. 

Peeling herself off her bed, she heads into her bathroom to take a shower and think about what she should do these next few days to get her mind off Oscar while she gets ready.

Even though it seems like forever, the days do eventually pass and she doesn’t spend them all rotting in her room. She hates that she feels somewhat dependent on Oscar, so this time away from him needs to be something that she becomes comfortable with and used to, a time that she spends focused on herself, instead of forcing herself do go out and live life solely so she isn’t missing him.

Her time is filled with small things- reading, going for walks, meeting up with friends, cooking. But always, in the back of her mind, there’s that anticipation for when Oscar finally returns. She wondered what it would be like when he was back, if things would feel different, if they’d finally have that conversation about what they were to each other.

But for now, she was okay with the uncertainty. For now, she could wait.

She watches the feature race, Oscar starts on pole and wins the race. It’s his third pole and third win for the season, and based on a quick call she has with her Dad, it seems to be the deciding point of the season. It’s obviously not yet confirmed that Oscar will be the F2 champion, but it’s certainly looking like that.

They don’t speak about it on the phone, not a single word about the championship or even just the race weekend. Oscar doesn’t bring it up, so she doesn’t either. They instead talk about seeing eachother when he gets back, which his flight is the next day. They’ll have the house to themselves for two days since Mark is staying in Sochi for another week for meetings and other race related commitments. 

When the day comes, she offers to drive out to the airport to meet him, but Oscar insists that he’ll just take a taxi since he gets back at like 7am, and doesn’t want her to have to be getting up and out of bed before the sun is even up. 

That gives her extra time to spend on getting ready, making herself look her best before she sees him. It’s not like he’s not going to like how she looks if she doesn’t do anything, hopefully, but she still wants to make an effort to look good for him.

Clothes cover her hardwood floor, tossed aside in the search for the ‘perfect’ outfit. Her hairs still a mess, and her lips are cracked and dry, and seriously picking out her outfit is the least of her worries right now when she still hasn’t showered, eaten, brushed her teeth, or made her bed. 

She only gets two of those things done, shower and teeth, before the doorbell rings. Luckily, she’s already got a denim skirt on, so she grabs the closet top and pulls it over her head as she rushes downstairs. She almost trips over her own feet on the scramble down the stairs, but manages to catch herself and be nearly fully composed by the time she’s opening the front door.

And there Oscar is, in all of his perfect glory. He’s got a race winner glow to him, bright eyes, a soft smile, just oozing confidence. He looks good, even more than he usually always does. “Hi,” Her voice barely comes out, more winded and out of breath. 

“Hey,” He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. He pushes his suitcase slightly to the side so there’s nothing inbetween them, just far too much space. They both just look at each other for a moment, the air thick and heavy. It feels as natural as breathing when he finally moves and wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head against hers.

She meets him halfway, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. “I missed you,” She murmurs into the collar of his cotton shirt. It smells so good, not even of his cologne, but just of Oscar. The faint undertone of hotel body wash, and just him. 

He tilts his head, kissing her cheek. “I missed you too,” He smiles against her, his voice a whisper. “You look so pretty,” He pulls away slightly to look at her, his eyes scanning over her bare face. She feels her cheeks heat up, suddenly very conscious about her lack of makeup and likely presence of redness and dark undereyes.

His thumb slides across her cheek, his lips slightly parted. He looks like he’s about to say it again, tell her how she’s so pretty. “Stop it,” She pushes his hand away slightly, feeling the heat from her cheeks travel down to spread across her neck. 

Oscar chuckles softly, his hand lingering near her face as if he can’t quite bring himself to fully let go. “I’m serious,” he insists, his voice warm and genuine. “You’re so so pretty,” He ducks his head for a kiss, his lips slipping against hers. 

He feels like home, warm and soft and all hers. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen me in a while.” She rolls her eyes as he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers.

Oscar huffs, exasperated and sarcastically dramatised. “Nah,” He shakes his head, a teasing glint in his eyes, “You know I’d say that even if I saw you every day,” His arms tighten, squeezing her waist tighter. “I think you’re pretty every single day,”

Her heart does a little flip at that, and she can’t help but smile back at him, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and happiness bubbling inside her. It’s been a while since she’s felt this light, this carefree in someone’s presence. It’s like Oscar carries this effortless ability to make her forget about everything else-  her dad, the complications, the uncertainty of what they are. In moments like these, it’s just them.

“Okay, okay, I accept it,” She giggles, her hands moving to hold onto his shoulders, getting a good look at him. “So, how was Russia?” she says, trying to change the subject, though her voice is still tinged with laughter. She avoids asking directly about the race, but she’s pretty sure just asking about the country is a safe discussion topic.

“Cold.” He grimaces, raising his eyebrows slightly, “Nice though, definitely worth it.” It seems like he might be steering the conversation towards discussing racing, but then he quickly pulls back. I’ve got something for you.” He reaches into the pocket of his sport shorts and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Open it,” He grins, his cheeks as rosy as hers.

She carefully unwraps the package, revealing a delicate golden necklace with a tiny, intricate pendant shaped like a star. “I remembered you saying you like gold jewelery, so I went to four different shops trying to find this specific necklace.. because everywhere else they only sold it in silver,” He sways slightly, seemingly a bit nervous. 

It’s simple, yet beautiful, and her breath catches in her throat as she looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Oscar,” Her cheeks hurt from how hard she’s smiling. She’s so incredibly fond of him. “It’s beautiful.” She looks back down at it, resting the charm in her palm, “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” he interrupts gently, his voice coming out in a single breathe. “I saw it and thought of you. It’s just a little something, you know, to remind you that I’m thinking of you even when I’m halfway across the world.” 

She nods, still processing. “Thank you,” she finally says, her voice soft, filled with emotion. “It’s really nice, it’s gorgeous,” She quickly corrects herself. “I love it.”

He smiles, his eyes searching hers as if trying to gauge how she really feels. She watches as the stress and panic drains from his face and is replaced with relief and a smile. “Can I put it on you?”

She nods again, turning around and lifting her hair to expose the back of her neck. He shruggles with it for a few seconds, clearly not having much experience of putting on necklaces. Luckily, his uncut nails help him out, hooking onto the metal.

His fingers brush against her skin as he fastens the clasp, and she shivers slightly at the contact, her pulse quickening. “There,” he murmurs, his voice close to her ear. “Perfect.”

She turns back to face him, her hand reaching up to touch the pendant resting against her collarbone. It feels like a promise, a small piece of him that she can carry with her wherever she goes. His eyes are directly just staring at her chest where the pendant lies, and probably the surrounding skin too. “Thank you, Osc,”

Oscar’s smile softens, and he steps closer, his hands finding her waist again. And then, before she can say anything else, he leans in and kisses her, slow and sweet, like he’s savoring every moment. She melts into the kiss, all her worries and doubts fading away as she loses herself in the warmth of his lips, the feel of his hands on her, the steady beat of his heart against hers. 

When it does finally end, she looks up at him, their noses still nudging against each other’s. Her palms grow sweaty and her skin prickles up in goosebumps from how he looks down at her. She knows he’s about to say something, something that’s about to change everything. She doesn’t want to assume what it is, but she’s got a pretty good idea of what it could be.

And if it is what she thinks it is, the answer is going to be the most definite yes ever.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

y/n.webber

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 3,105 others

y/n.webber you're caught between a dream and a movie scene 🌺

user1 is this mark webber's daughter?

-> y/n.webber yes lol

-> user2 ohh so thats why logan and oscar both liked this

-> user3 who r oscar and logan?

-> user2 formula 2 drivers! oscar is managed by her dad

user4 ahhh so prettyyy

-> y/n.webber thank you love!!!

bsf/n shut up im so excited for summer

-> y/n.webber AND ZAYN TOUR HOPEFULLYYY

oscarpiastri

liked by frederikvestiofficial, aussiegrit and 28,193 others

oscarpiastri Super happy to get my third pole position in a row, and back-to-back feature race wins. Always a pleasure, cheers Sochi 🤟

user5 CONGRATS OSCAR!!

-> user6 i need him in f1 like rn

-> user7 so true

aussiegrit 👏💯

logansargeant lesss goo mate

user8 deserves that 2nd alpine seat next year

last chapter, next chapter

after such a sad chapter last time, they're finally happy!!! yayayay :)) sorry this chapter took a while, hopefully it was worth it :) also enjoy the inclusion of spider being a zayn fan in the sm part bc i am projecting onto her and literally making her my twin 😋

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet,

[estapa-edwards]

MAKE A MOVE - A. FANTILLI

paring: Adam Fantilli x reader

word count: 2.4k

requested? yes - adam meeting the physical therapist at the blue jackets and totally being in love right away, happens they are also neighbors so they become really good friends. eventually they start dating but keep it pretty private she’s the one who helps him back with his injury… gavin had his debut the other day and maybe the whole group notice adam looking in love and like tease him telling him to make a move but he alreadlt has

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

It all begins with a seemingly innocuous event – a small injury during a routine practice session. As Adam skates off the ice, wincing slightly, he's directed towards the team's physical therapist for assessment and treatment. Little does he know that this encounter will change the course of his life.

As Adam enters the treatment room, Y/N's smile widens, though she tries to maintain her professional demeanor. "Hey there, Adam," she greets him warmly, gesturing for him to take a seat on the treatment table. "What seems to be the issue today?"

Adam winces slightly as he eases himself onto the table, his eyes scanning the room curiously. "Just a little tweak in my shoulder," he replies, trying to downplay the discomfort he's feeling. "Nothing too serious, I hope."

Y/N nods, her gaze focused as she begins to assess his injury. As she palpates his shoulder, her brow furrows in concentration, and then suddenly, her eyes widen in recognition. "Wait a minute," she says, her voice tinged with surprise. "You're Adam Fantilli, aren't you?"

Adam chuckles sheepishly, nodding in confirmation. "Guilty as charged," he admits, offering her a rueful smile. "I guess my cover's blown, huh?"

Y/N laughs softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe it," she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're my neighbor! I've seen you around the building before."

Adam's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "No way," he replies, a grin spreading across his face. "Small world, huh?"

Their conversation flows easily from there, as they trade stories about their experiences living in the same building. Adam finds himself captivated by Y/N's easygoing nature and genuine warmth, while Y/N is struck by Adam's humility and down-to-earth charm.

--

As Adam continues his therapy sessions with Y/N, their interactions extend beyond the confines of his injury. One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, Adam finds himself lingering in the therapy room, reluctant to leave the comfort of Y/N's presence.

Y/N notices his hesitation and offers him a sympathetic smile. "You did great today, Adam," she says, her voice gentle and encouraging. "Your progress has been impressive."

Adam nods, grateful for her words of encouragement. "Thanks, Y/N," he replies, his expression softening. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Their eyes meet, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passes between them. Without a word, Y/N gestures for Adam to take a seat on the nearby couch, and he gratefully accepts.

What begins as a casual conversation soon evolves into a heart-to-heart discussion, as Adam opens up to Y/N about the pressures of life in the NHL and the constant scrutiny he faces as a professional athlete. Y/N listens attentively, offering him words of comfort and support.

As they talk, Adam can't help but marvel at the depth of their connection. Despite the differences in their backgrounds and experiences, he feels a sense of kinship with Y/N that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Before he knows it, the therapy session has turned into an impromptu therapy of a different kind – a safe space where Adam can be vulnerable and honest without fear of judgment. And as they sit together in the quiet intimacy of the therapy room, Adam realizes that he's beginning to fall for Y/N in a way he never thought possible.

-- 

One evening, after a long day of practice and training, Adam finds himself craving the comfort of home. As he steps into the elevator of his apartment building, he's surprised to find Y/N waiting inside, a basket of groceries in her arms.

"Hey, Adam," she greets him with a warm smile. "Heading home?"

Adam nods, returning her smile. "Yeah, just finished up at the rink," he replies, shifting his gym bag on his shoulder. "What about you? Stocking up on essentials?"

Y/N chuckles, nodding in affirmation. "Something like that," she says cryptically, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Curiosity piqued, Adam follows Y/N as she steps out of the elevator and heads towards her apartment. To his surprise, she invites him inside, gesturing for him to make himself at home while she puts away the groceries. 

As Adam steps into Y/N's apartment, he's enveloped by a sense of warmth and coziness. The soft glow of lamps illuminates the space, casting a gentle ambiance that immediately puts him at ease. He watches as Y/N bustles around the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she unpacks the groceries.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Adam?" Y/N asks, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "I was planning on making a simple pasta dish."

Adam's stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and he can't help but smile at Y/N's offer. "That sounds amazing, Y/N," he replies, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I'd love to stay."

As Y/N sets to work preparing their meal, Adam takes a seat at the kitchen island, content to watch her work. He's struck by the ease with which she moves around the kitchen, the way she effortlessly balances multiple tasks at once.

"So, Adam," Y/N says, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between them. "How's the season been treating you so far?"

Adam sighs, his expression momentarily clouding over with fatigue. "It's been intense, to say the least," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything. This is what I've been working towards my whole life."

Y/N nods in understanding, her eyes filled with empathy. "I can imagine it must be tough, balancing the demands of the game with everything else," she says softly. "But just know that I'm here for you, whenever you need someone to talk to."

Adam's heart swells with gratitude at Y/N's words, and he finds himself opening up to her in a way he rarely does with others. 

--

As the weeks pass, Adam finds himself increasingly drawn to Y/N, his feelings for her growing stronger with each passing day. He can't shake the image of her warm smile and kind eyes, nor the way she makes him feel at ease with just a simple glance.

One evening, after another grueling practice session, Adam finds himself standing outside Y/N's apartment door, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows that he wants to take their relationship to the next level, but he's unsure of how to broach the subject.

Summoning up his courage, Adam knocks on the door, his hand trembling slightly with nerves. When Y/N answers, a bright smile lights up her face, and Adam feels his resolve strengthen.

"Hey, Adam," Y/N greets him warmly, stepping aside to let him in. "What brings you by?"

Adam takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner with me," he says, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. "Just the two of us."

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "I'd love to, Adam," she replies, her smile widening into a grin. "I've been hoping you'd ask."

Relief floods through Adam as he realizes that Y/N feels the same way he does. With a sense of excitement coursing through his veins, he suggests a nearby restaurant that he's been wanting to try, and Y/N eagerly agrees.

As they make plans for their dinner date, Adam can't help but feel a surge of anticipation. He knows that this could be the beginning of something truly special between them, and he can't wait to see where their newfound romance will take them.

And as he bids Y/N goodnight and heads back to his own apartment, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

-- 

After their first dinner date, Adam and Y/N find themselves falling into a comfortable rhythm of spending time together. They go on more dates, exploring new restaurants, taking walks in the park, and even enjoying quiet evenings at home cooking dinner together.

Despite the growing intensity of their feelings for each other, Adam and Y/N decide to keep their budding relationship private for the time being. With Adam's high-profile career in the NHL and Y/N's own professional responsibilities, they both understand the importance of maintaining a sense of privacy and discretion.

They enjoy the simplicity and intimacy of their relationship, relishing in the moments they share away from the prying eyes of the public. Whether it's stealing kisses in the elevator of their apartment building or cuddling up on the couch to watch a movie, Adam and Y/N cherish every moment they spend together.

As they navigate the ups and downs of life in the fast-paced world of professional sports, Adam and Y/N find solace in each other's arms. Their relationship becomes a sanctuary from the pressures and expectations of the outside world, a place where they can be themselves without fear of judgment or scrutiny.

-- 

As the second period of the intense matchup between the Columbus Blue Jackets and the Seattle Kraken unfolded, the tension on the ice was palpable. Adam Fantilli, known for his speed and agility, was weaving through the opposing team's defense with finesse, determined to lead his team to victory.

But fate had other plans.

In a split second, the course of the game – and Adam's life – changed dramatically. As he battled for possession of the puck along the boards, he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jared McCann, a forward for the Seattle Kraken, swung his skate blade in an attempt to dislodge the puck, but instead, it made contact with Adam's left leg.

The arena fell silent as Adam crumpled to the ice in agony, clutching his injured leg. The sight of blood staining the pristine white ice sent a shiver down the spines of everyone in attendance.

Y/N, ever vigilant on the sidelines, sprang into action. With a sense of urgency, she rushed onto the ice, her heart pounding in her chest as she assessed the extent of Adam's injury. The gravity of the situation was clear – Adam needed immediate medical attention.

With the help of the team's medical staff, Y/N carefully helped Adam to his feet, supporting him as he hobbled off the ice and down the tunnel. Every step was excruciating, but Adam gritted his teeth and soldiered on, determined not to show any sign of weakness in front of his teammates and fans.

As they reached the relative safety of the locker room, Y/N's heart ached at the sight of Adam's pain. She did her best to provide comfort and reassurance, but she knew that his road to recovery would be long and challenging.

In the aftermath of the game, as the news of Adam's injury spread like wildfire, the hockey world held its breath, praying for his swift recovery.

--

In the days following Adam's injury, Y/N's dual roles as both his physical therapist and his girlfriend became more intertwined than ever before. As Adam began his rehabilitation journey, Y/N was there every step of the way, providing not only expert medical care but also unwavering emotional support.

Their apartment became a makeshift clinic, with Y/N transforming their living room into a makeshift therapy space equipped with exercise bands, foam rollers, and other rehabilitation tools. Under Y/N's watchful eye, Adam diligently followed his prescribed exercises, determined to regain strength and mobility in his injured leg.

Despite the pain and frustration of his injury, Adam found solace in Y/N's presence. Her gentle encouragement and reassuring words helped to ease his anxieties and lift his spirits during the darkest moments of his recovery.

As the weeks passed, Adam's progress was slow but steady. With Y/N's guidance, he slowly began to regain strength and mobility in his injured leg, surpassing even the most optimistic expectations of his medical team.

But it wasn't just Adam who benefited from Y/N's care and attention. As they worked together day in and day out, their bond deepened, evolving into something even more profound and meaningful than before.

In the quiet moments between therapy sessions, Adam and Y/N found themselves falling more deeply in love with each other. Whether it was sharing a meal together, cuddling on the couch, or simply holding hands as they watched the sunset from their balcony, every moment spent together was a precious gift.

-- 

As the NHL season continued without Adam, his absence was keenly felt by both his teammates and fans alike. But amidst the disappointment of his injury, there was a glimmer of excitement in the air as another familiar face stepped onto the ice for his NHL debut – Gavin Brindley, Adam's former college teammate.

The Blue Jackets' arena buzzed with anticipation as Gavin took to the ice, his teammates cheering him on from the sidelines. Among them, a group of Adam's college teammates – Seamus Casey, Luca Fantilli, Rutger Mcgroarty, Nick Moldenhauer, Ethan Edwards, and of course, Adam himself – watched with pride and excitement, their cheers ringing out in unison.

But as the game progressed, it became clear to Adam's friends that there was something different about him. Gone was the usual intensity and focus that defined him on the ice – instead, there was a softness to his gaze, a warmth in his smile that hadn't been there before.

"Hey, Adam," Seamus whispered, nudging him playfully with his elbow. "You've been awfully distracted tonight. Got something on your mind?"

Adam's cheeks flushed pink as he glanced over at Y/N, who was sitting a few rows away, her eyes glued to the action on the ice. "Um, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "I guess you could say that."

His friends exchanged knowing looks, grins spreading across their faces. "Ah, I see how it is," Luca teased, winking at Adam. "Looks like someone's got a crush."

Adam rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Okay, okay, you caught me," he conceded, his voice tinged with amusement. "But trust me, I've already made my move."

His friends erupted into cheers and applause, their laughter filling the air as they congratulated Adam on finally taking the plunge. And as they watched Gavin Brindley's NHL debut unfold before their eyes, Adam couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude and contentment wash over him.

For in that moment, surrounded by his closest friends and the woman he loved, Adam Fantilli knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be – both on and off the ice.

[watatsumiis]

Being A Part of the Sumeru Squad!

I've been thinking a lot recently about being a part of the ‘in’ group in Sumeru - the ones shown to be good friends on screen already (Tighnari, Cyno, Al Haitham and Kaveh!) I feel like there's lots of ways one could slot themselves into the dynamic and it's just very pleasant and fun to think about. 

(Rambles below the cut. Platonic stuff, reader is referred to as ‘you’ and is entirely gender neutral) 

Though the squad is almost constantly making playful little jabs at one another, bickering back and forth and whatnot, they're overall a pretty supportive and kind group and accept you into their midst without too much fuss. 

You soon find yourself invited to a myriad of small, casual get-togethers where the group catches up with one another. It's kind of weirdly formal at first, with so many of them holding such high and important statuses. 

Luckily, Kaveh also ends up feeling pretty left out during these discussions, so you'll have someone to chat with or ask questions when you've lost track of the topic at hand. Plus, he's often got some very funny (and surprisingly astute) commentary to add on, even when the subject is painfully dull. 

Once all the politics are out of the way, the conversation tends to ease right up for a little while. Regardless of whether you're at some restaurant or cafe, or just hanging out at someone's house, there's usually snacks available and things will remain super lighthearted for a bit, all jokes and talks of recently released books or occasional infodumps about hyperfixations and special interests. 

On that subject, whenever the stars align and two or more group members have the same special interest or hyperfixation, hoo boy, you can expect them to monopolise the conversation and somehow always drag it back to whatever niche fascinations that they may have accrued lately. 

If you have something you want to talk about, you can rest assured that at least one person in the room will be able to engage. Everybody has their own collection of equally specific and obscure knowledge - with the occasional kind of hilarious overlap. Kaveh and Cyno’s shared fascination with Fontanian machinery, or Tighnari and Al-Haitham’s in-depth discussions of insectoid languages and their potential overlap with human ones are some of the first to come to mind. 

Of course, disagreements do break out every now and then - but everyone is fairly civil for the most part, if a little bit overdramatic and occasionally loud. It's interesting to see how everyone the group tends to take sides almost as soon as a hint of a possible disagreement rears its head. Al-Haitham once questioned Cyno's sense of humour, querying whether it could really be considered comedy if nobody was laughing, and pretty soon, Tighnari and Kaveh were arguing along as passionately as if they'd been personally insulted. 

You tend to be the tiebreaker more often than not - with such an evenly split group, there often tends to be an even balance between whatever arguments. It doesn't help that Al-Haitham likes to break it all down and give pros and cons for both sides (while still keeping his own stance firm), which may make it impossible for you to decide. 

Luckily, it's easy enough for you to guide the group's attention elsewhere. Just offer to make them some hot drinks or ask if someone wants to play a round of Genius Invocation, and it's like the argument never happened at all. 

It's easy to wind up feeling a little out of place in a group of such highly ranking people, but it's like your friends develop a sixth sense for when you're starting to get a little confused or feeling out of your depth. Instead of poking fun at you (like they do for Kaveh), they'll find a way to rope you into the conversation that doesn't put too much pressure on you. Cyno and Tighnari, especially, seem to have a way of relating things to subjects that are in your area of expertise to help you parse them better so you can find your footing and be debating back and forth with the rest of them. 

Game nights tend to get really intense. It's not a case of if someone will flip their lid, it's simply a case of when. Alliances and subsequent betrayals are all too common, and you'll often find yourself being bribed to help someone one-up another person. 

They even have a ‘trophy’ for winning each week's game night. It's a tiny crown, carved out of wood and painted gold. Collei made it and donated it to the group. Whoever possesses the crown also possesses the ultimate bragging rights until the next gaming night (or until they accidentally sit on it and squash it with their big clumsy butt. Kaveh ). 

Though the group is chaotic, noisy, and constantly teasing one another, they're all so supportive of one another and will stick together through thick and thin. As the conversations slow down, sometimes some pretty serious subjects get brought up, heavy venting and other such similar things. 

Though, they're all very understanding if someone isn't in the correct headspace for that sort of talk, and will happily postpone it or talk about it elsewhere if needed. They're also very used to multiple conversations happening at once, so it's easy enough for someone to dodge around the heavy topics if they need to. 

The squad can be almost violently supportive at times. Sometimes you worry that Cyno may be one hundred percent genuine about abusing his status as the General Mahamatra to threaten somebody who mildly inconvenienced you one time in the market last week. 

Overall, the vibes of the friend group are super fun (if a little intense at times). They may not say it directly, but everyone is super glad to have you around, hanging out with them and getting in on all the goofs they make and shaking up their dynamic a little bit.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or copy - pasted into bot or AI technology.

[vibingpyro]

Piercings and pretty lips

⚠️ TW ⚠️ : Mentions of piercings, needle and decent in depth process of tongue piercing.

Duck- Affectionate British slang term of affection for another person.

Word Count:2,066

"This would go so much smoother if you stayed still, y'know."

You give an incoherent response as you glare at Hobie through the iridescent light of his bathroom, not that he wouldn't be able to tell the mild impatience in your tone regardless of how unintelligible. Your tongue is pinched carefully between Hobies index and thumb finger, his eyes flickering from yours and back to the extended pink muscle.

Being around Hobie must be an greater influence than what you had expected, as you mentioned thinking about getting an piercing in casual conversation with him while lazing about one slow afternoon at his swaying canal boat home, Hobie had practically perked up like an shark smelling blood in the water at the idea.

How you had convinced Hobie to pierce your tongue in his bathroom of all places though in your eagerness, you aren't too sure but you're certainly not complaining while you sit on the edge of his bathroom counter, Hobie situated between your spread legs to get to properly get a grip on your tongue, seeing if you have the proper anatomy for said piercing.

Hobie hums, tugging just a bit on your tongue between his fingers, testing the elasticity of it ignoring when you grumble at him. "Well, you certainly have the anatomy for it." He says, releasing his pinched fingers from your tongue. You bring your tongue back in your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth to get rid of that odd dry feeling of it being exposed to air for longer than usual.

"Is that a yes, then?" You ask, barely able to contain your excitement at Hobie nod. He leans to the side, one of his hands lightly drums onto your thigh into an practiced rhythm while the other pulls up the tray of sterilized tools he had prepared on the counter for after his inspection of your tongue. Although you're sure he's had it down his throat enough times to know you had the proper anatomy the entire time, but you don't say complain.

"And you're positive you want this, duck?" He says, quirking up one pierced eyebrow at you still drumming his fingers against your thigh, leaning back to fully gauge your reaction. The familiar nickname rolling off of his tongue, you never really did ask why he had started to call you that but it feels too late to ask about it now. You just glare at him and nod, even sticking out your tongue to further solidify your stubborn answer, you feel if you prolong this you might go back on this whole idea. Hobie huffs out an small chuckle as he shakes his head amused by your antics, "Alright, if you're sure.." he murmurs fingers finally resting against your thigh.

He grabs at an thin black marker from his pocket, gently gripping your tongue between his index and thumb finger again his eyes narrowed in focus as he dots right in the middle of your offered tongue. It surprisingly doesn't have an gross taste you note, just a tad bitter. Hobie leans back and releases his hold on your tongue, shuffling to open a drawer beside your calf digging around until grasping at an hand held mirror and holds it up for you to see the dot marked on the pink muscle. "Right 'bout there?" He asks.

You look into the mirror already trusting Hobies judgement and precision, nodding in satisfaction as you deem the placement of the dot acceptable. Hobie nods back, although it's more of an subconscious movement of your own agreement. He places the handheld mirror down beside you on the counter, his warm hand drifting from your thigh to open the sterilized packed needle on the metal tray on your opposite side. He opens the package with quick fingers, likely from practice of piercing his friends over the years and stitching. You feel a hint of nerves buzzing in the pit of your belly, but you trust Hobie explicitly to not screw this up...mostly. But if things were to go wrong, you would have solid blackmail for at least an year you think on the bright side.

Hobie then grabs at an pair of silver long forceps laid on the silver tray next to you, adjusting his hold on them, moving towards your tongue, clamping down on it with an steady grip as he lines up the dot on your tongue with the hole in the forceps. It doesn't feel too uncomfortable just a bit firmer pressure than Hobies fingers, your eyes trailing Hobies fingers as they move deftly into the open package of the piercing needle and picking it up between two fingers.

"Right, on three.." he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours for a moment of mutual understanding, your hands move to grip at the hem of Hobies shirt in preparation for what is more likely going to hurt like an bitch. You close your eyes as Hobie begins to count down, you feel him move just a bit closer his thigh nudging your legs apart just enough to slide a bit further in between them, easily closing most of the space between you. It would be tender how he molds himself to you if it weren't for the giant needle hovering so close to you.

"One...two...three-!" He cuts himself off just as he pushes the needle in through your tongue. Your grip on Hobies shirt tightens instantly as the needle strikes all the way in. You feel saliva build up in your mouth from the sudden sharp pinch, your nose scrunching up as you breathe through the discomfort as you try to keep your tongue still regardless of the forceps doing that perfectly for you.

"There you go, duck...jus' breathe, in and out through your nose." Hobie murmurs soft reassurances as he puts the forceps aside while keeping the needle steady through your tongue while his other hand grabs at the jewelery placed on the side that he had shown you for your possible options of tongue piercings he had kept around in a tiny mint container assuring you they were all sterilized and clean although you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he said it was for in his words 'Mo-mintos' .

You had opted for an an small silver one, it's regular in size and shape but he had said it would look perfect with a sly wink, almost as if knowing something you don't. The last thing Hobie had wanted to do was overwhelm you with a larger piercing you assume.

He slides the jewelery in with ease as he pushes the needle out completely, tossing away the needle efficiently to the trash can in the opposite side of the room before working on screwing in the balls of the silver piercing on each end with quick fingers, unbothered when a bit of saliva and blood runs down over his fingers. You finally peek your eyes open squinting at Hobie through the tears.

Hobie looks up from your now fully pierced tongue, his pupils are a black hole surrounded by his beautifully colored iris as he looks into your eyes. He hums lowly in appreciation, his right hand coming up to wipe away at the saliva and blood dribbling down your chin. "How're you feelin'?" he asks, always attentive. If you weren't so focused on how close he is you can hear the undertone of pride as he speaks.

You slowly bring your tongue back into your mouth, feeling the cold metal of the piercing quickly adjust to the warm temperature of your mouth. The taste of your blood in your mouth isn't unbearable, but the amount of saliva gathering in your mouth is a mild inconvenience as you begin to talk. "I feel fine but it feels weird.." you acknowledge, testingly running it along the roof of your mouth before Hobie can warn you.

You wince immediately feeling as if your tongue were struck by lightning, and Hobie clicks his tongue but his eyes show only concern if not a hint of amusement too. His hands land on your thighs squeezing through the denim of your jeans to try to ground you against the pain buzzing through you. "Ya can't just do that. It's gotta heal." He scolds you giving you an raised eyebrows look, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. But still.

You nod as your eyebrows remain scrunched together, mostly focusing on trying to will the pain away, but ever greatful for Hobies quick thinking of using his hands to squeeze and rub up and down your thighs, the warmth of his large palms through your jeans is hard not to notice. His lovely, talented palms. Good God, now you're blushing. As if the pain wasn't enough to make you want to jump off of a cliff.

If Hobie didn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks he most certainly is almost able to feel it by how close he is. You speak after the pain finally dims, just slightly. "I was curious." Is all you state, beginning to feel your tongue swell around the base of where the piercing is nestled. Hobie snorts, his head rolls down to your shoulder momentarily, resting there as he stills his comforting motions on your thighs. You barely stop the whine coming from your throat as Hobie pulls his hands away, only to stop once they land on your cheeks and he looks back up, meeting your burning gaze.

"You're an dunce. Open up f'me."

You don't even bother to validate that with an verbal response, guessing he wants to see the piercing once more. You oblige and open your mouth, sticking your tongue back out, the shiny metal damp with saliva and hints of blood. Hobie seems to drink the sight in eagerly, his eyes glued to the metal jewelry he had placed there.

"Knew it would look killer, had a bunch'a fun memories with this one.." he murmurs, thumbs rubbing subconsciously at the skin of your cheeks. Memories? Your eyes widen comically, and Hobie chuckles, his eyes unsticking from the piercing to your own wide eyes. "Oh? I didn't mention that this was my starter?" He states noncommittally, as if it were the most causal thing ever. You had known Hobie had his tongue pierced, it was common knowledge, like when he stuck out his tongue in sassy retort during fond arguments, when he made up for those exact arguments..

But this was unexpected on an entire new level. You had his first ever tongue piercing jewelery in your mouth, likely from years ago. You can hardly contain your hands from gripping Hobies shirt tighter, butterflies rushing to life in your belly at the thrilling revelation. Hobie can't help but smile wider at your clearly affected reaction, keeping his hands on your cheeks. "If I didn't know any better, you like that idea.. don't you, duck?" He coos with just the right amount of condescension. His hands going to rest from your cheeks to beside your legs on the counter you're sitting on, eyes half lidded as he memorizes your no doubt flustered face, cheeks aflame and still dumbly sticking out your tongue for him to admire.

You nod, still at a loss for words but bring your tongue back into your mouth, the pain is a dull after thought by the way Hobie is looking at you as if you had given him an perfectly wrapped present has you trying to lean closer to connect your lips to his but he quickly evades it by moving his head beside your ear, clicking his tongue again in disapproval.

"Uh-uh, no kissing for three weeks till it heals." He reminds you so quietly into your ear and you feel blood rushing into your hear at his voice so close, so sweetly, but you sink back in disappointment at the mention, new piercing means no kissing after all.

Hobie must sense your disappointment as he gently knocks his head into yours, your disappointing thoughts pushed away as he gathers your full attention, suggesting something even more tempting into your ear. "I never said we couldn't do anything else." He says, nuzzling his head down to your neck, pressing soft kisses and nips to the flesh of your neck. "Just keep those pretty lips to yourself, yeah?"

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter three

Summary: And, what about older men?

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s)

Word Count: 1426

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A/N: Dick me dead, and bury me pregnant. Here is the link to the assignment mentioned in this chapter.- Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan | @angelbabyyy99 | @kaithesimps-blog

The words of your assignment were still vivid in your mind as you hit ‘send’ on your email to Dr. Barnes. Laying your emotions out bare felt exhilarating, though terrifying. Something real, something raw had finally been tapped: The story of a young woman longing for the depth and experience of an older man, a mirror of your recent desires, and newfound feelings about unfulfilled connections with men your age.

Your thoughts had regularly returned to your meeting with Dr. Barnes, and the magnetic pull toward him– His intoxicating presence, full of authority and warmth that left you yearning. The way he leaned in, husky whispering, shivers shooting down your spine. You knew it was more than an academic connection, an unspoken attraction. 

While packing your bag after Psychology class, your phone buzzed with a new email notification. Your heart pounded as you unlocked the preview, Dr. Barnes had responded to your work. 

“Miss Spector, 

Your submission is captivating and shows significant growth. The raw honesty and ability to show vulnerability in your writing are truly commendable. I want to discuss your work further and help you delve further into these themes. Meet me in my office tomorrow at 3 PM.

I’m looking forward to our conversation, 

Dr. Barnes.” 

The prospect of another intimate encounter with Dr. Barnes caused a thrill of excitement and anxiety to course through you. His words penetrated your defenses, in both person and writing, reaching down to your core. Rereading the email, you could almost hear his deep, resonant voice, laced with praise. 

Zipping up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Slowly, you turned to become face-to-face with Wanda and MJ, two of your closest friends. They were both wearing mischievous smiles, curiosity twinkling in their eyes. 

“Hey, what’s got you grinning like The Cheshire Cat,” MJ teased, playfully nudging you. 

Wanda’s eyebrows raised suggestively as she joined in on the interrogation. “Yeah, spill, Spector! Pete up to his old tricks again?” 

Trying to find the right words, you chuckled nervously. “Oh, you two,” you jokingly rolled your eyes at them. “Nothing scandalous, just a text, I promise.” 

Your friends weren’t so easily convinced. Exchanging knowing glances as MJ leaned in closer, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, we’ve known each other for years. You can’t fool us that easy…”

Struggling to come up with an explanation, a blush crept up your cheeks. You tried to laugh off their teasing just as a familiar voice interrupted from behind. 

“Everything alright here, ladies?” Professor Wilson’s voice boomed across the empty lecture hall. Your heart skipped a beat, feeling the embarrassment heat your cheeks. You wondered how much of the conversation he had overheard.

Exchanging surprised glances, Wanda and Mj quickly composed themselves. Their once playful expressions shifted to innocent ones. 

“Oh… just chatting about our plans for the evening, Professor,” Wanda replied with a smile and casual tone. 

He nodded, leaving his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. As he returned to his desk, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he let on. 

Regaining your composure, you exchanged a relieved glance at Wanda and MJ, silently agreeing to table the conversation. Walking out of the hall, the weight of Dr. Barnes’ email hung heavy in your mind. Something had shifted, not only were you feeling the anticipation of the upcoming meeting with him, but you realized that your feelings for him ran deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit. 

Lost in your trace, you rounded a corner colliding with a solid figure. You stumbled back, slightly startled, however you felt a strong hand steadying you. Your heart began to race as you looked up, meeting the gaze of none other than Dr. Barnes himself. 

“Ah, Miss Spector,” he greeted, a smile beginning to play on his lips. His touch lingered against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a subtle yet undeniable spark. 

“Dr. Barnes…” you trailed, trying to steady your racing heart. You heard the sniggering of Wanda and MJ as they watched in surprise and amusement. 

“My apologies,” Dr. Barnes said, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before returning to meet yours. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much.” 

Shaking your head, you felt a flush creep up to your cheeks. “No, not at all. It’s… I, un, I’m looking forward to our discussion tomorrow.” 

Your friends shared another glance at each other, a smirk tugging at their lips. They sensed your embarrassment, giggling and teasing you for being clumsy and oblivious. You shot them a quick warning look.

Dr. Barnes observed the interaction between you and your friends, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “I’m glad to hear that,” he replied, his voice smooth. “I have no donut it will be a… fruitful conversation.” His voice was laced with a subtle undertone of invitation, a promise of something more lingering. 

You nodded, feeling a rush of heat spreading through you at his proximity. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With one last glance into his piercing blue eyes, you excused yourself and followed your friends out of the building. 

As you walked away, Wanda and MJ’s laughter filled the air, you couldn’t resist another glance back inside the building. Standing in the same spot, was Dr. Barnes, his gaze fixed on you intensely. 

Time stood still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you. You had never experienced a connection like this before. 

You tore your gaze away at the sound of your name being called, joining your friends. But, Dr. Barnes’ stayed with you. 

~

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying you causing your pulse to quicken. “I’ve read your submission. It’s compelling and honest. You’ve done well, tapping into your fears… and desires.” 

Your palms warmed under his praise, and the thudding of your heartbeat drummed in your ears. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I tried to be as truthful as possible.” 

Nodding in agreement, he rested his chin against his fist. “That’s evident. Your exploration of the longing for an older man, their depth and experience was particularly poignant.” He paused, noticing you fidget with your fingers under his intense gaze. “Tell me, do you believe younger men are truly incapable of providing the satisfaction you seek?”

The question cut close to your personal life causing you to hesitate while searching for the right words. “I think… it’s not their age, but… their lack of understanding. They don’t seem to see beyond the physical.” 

“And, what about older men?” he pressed, shifting in his seat, leaning forward against his desk. “Do you think they inherently possess the ability to satisfy a woman on a deeper level?” 

“I think they have more life experience,” you replied carefully. “They tend to have more patience, more attuned to a woman’s needs.” 

The room seemed to close in around you as his eyes bore into yours. “Experience does bring a certain depth,” he murmured, his voice becoming lower, more intimate. “But, regardless of age, emotional connection and mutual understanding are paramount.” 

You nodded. “I agree. It’s about finding someone who truly sees and understands you.”

He smiled, a slow, almost predatory smile played on his lips, sending a heat to your core. His gaze pierced through layers of your defenses, you felt both exposed and exhilarated. “And how about you, Miss Spector? Do you feel seen?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, the pressure building up inside you making it hard to form words. “I… I think I’m beginning to.” 

His smile deepened, eyes gleaming with something darker. “Good,” he said, in a whisper. “It’s a rare and precious thing, true understanding… true connection. Keep exploring them, Miss Spector.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes, I will,” you replied, your voice betraying you.

His eyes never left yours as he leaned back in his chair. The added sense of space allowed you to breathe, yet the electrifying connection between you was maintained. 

“I look forward to seeing where your explorations take you,” he continued, encouraging with a hint of command. “This is just the beginning, our journey together is only starting, and I’m here to guide you through it.” 

His eyes followed your every move as you stood to leave. “Until next time,” he said, glancing back at him, a hint of a smile played on his lips. 

“Until next time,” you echoed as you stepped out of his office and into the library.

---

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[therabbitthatpostthings]

Jealousy Jealousy

Nanami x Sorcerer!Reader

Based on this post. This’ll be a long one. Nanami is slightly OOC.

When a new face arrives at Jujutsu Tech in the wake of the Tokyo v Kyoto affair, Nanami cannot help but to feel wary of him. And why do you seem so close to him? Just who is this guy?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。✫・。.・゜ ✭・.

Jujutsu Tech has never had a dull day. Especially not with Gojo around. He was back from his long standing mission and Nanami couldn’t believe how amazing 8 days go by. Honestly, Nanami enjoyed every second of it. But Gojo had to come back eventually and Nanami was once again, considering if this was really the life he wanted to stick with. He took the initiative to come in a bit earlier than usual and yet, You and Gojo insist on speaking loudly, and extensively, about whatever escapades Gojo got up to while he was gone.

Right in front of Nanami’s coffee.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not while Itadori needed him. Not while there were lives to save. You two however, always found a way to push him towards the edge though. Gojo was something he had come to be acquainted with, but you, Grade 1 Sorcerer (Y/N) (L/N), found a very special way to get to him.

“If I would marry anyone, it would probably be Nanami-San!”

That was the last thing you said to him before graduating all those years ago and even now you’ve stuck to it. Nanami cannot remember a single conversation in which you haven’t flirted with him or expressed the desire to marry him. And everytime he shuts you down and everytime you smile and say, “I’ll wait as long as you need me to!”

That’s not to say speaking to you was a chore. Once you get over the obligatory flirty comment, you are quite easy to have a conversation with. You aren’t pushy or handsy with him. You didn’t make any sexual or inappropriate jokes. If he asked you to not bother him, you wouldn’t. Still he couldn’t shake that annoying feeling he got when coming near you. He thought, maybe your proximity to Gojo is what makes you annoyed. That had to be it. Nanami didn’t have time to think about that, it was 8am and he was officially on the clock.

“Good morning Nanami, you look as handsome as ever.” You smiled as you poured a cup of coffee. The twinge of annoyance subsided as Nanami put the newspaper down on the table.

“Good morning (L/N).” In quick and precise movements, Nanami stood and walked towards the door.

“Why does he treat you nicer than me?” Gojo's whining voice became distant as Nanami disappeared down the hall.

Nanami didn’t actually have anywhere to be, Yuuji wasn’t due for their training until noon but it was so much better than hearing about whatever You and Gojo were talking about. 3 years had passed since you returned to Tokyo and you fell back into his life so seamlessly. You two weren’t close but you were one of his nicer upperclassmen. Nanami didn’t even notice how much you consumed his thoughts until he was stopped by Yaga.

“Oh good, Nanami-san.” Behind Yaga stood a tall man, a little shorter than Nanami, with shaggy hair and dark eyes. Yaga turned towards him, implying him to step forward. The man let out an awkward chuckle and stuck his hand out.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hasegawa Ryosuke.”

Nanami shook the man’s hand and introduced himself. Yaga spoke again, “Would you mind giving Hasegawa a tour of the school? I’d like to have him familiar before the students start class.”

“Sorry about this, I went to the Kyoto school and only recently came back to Japan.” Hasegawa chuckled.

As Nanami agreed, Yaga excused himself. Hasegawa assured Nanami he wouldn’t need an in depth tour, anything quick would do just fine. “To tell you the truth, I never lived in Tokyo so I got a little confused and was late.”

He was a sort of awkward man. He dresses casually and ends every sentence in a nervous laugh. Nanami could tell that he was powerful though, probably a Grade 1. He followed quietly, sparingly asking questions or inquiring about the school. By the time they finished in the courtyard the students were already arriving for their morning classes. Yuuji excitedly called out to Nanami, who greeted him, Fushiguro and Nobara as well.

“Who’s this?” Yuuji asked.

“I’m just a guest, I’m Hasegawa.” He said suddenly a bit calmer. Almost calculated. Nanami didn’t think too much of it. Many sorcerers were still iffy surrounding Yuuji and his circumstance. The sudden edge wasn’t lost on any of them as Hasegawa’s demeanor shifted back to the one he had before. “I went to Kyoto, Tokyo is always so busy.”

“Yeah it is,” Yuuji replied. Nanami cleared his throat, they both noticed that Nobara and Fushiguro also seemed to passively turn towards Hasegawa. As if they were guarding Yuuji.

“Itadori, you shouldn’t be late for class.” Nanami stated.

“We won’t be,” Yuuji called back as Nobara started to pull him and Fushiguro along. Before they could leave the courtyard a loud shriek broke out from the school.

“RYOSUKE!” (Y/N) suddenly came running out. They jumped into Hasegawa’s arms and he spun them around. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came to visit.” He laughed, still holding them up.

“And you didn’t tell me!” (Y/N) playfully hit his shoulders. They once again pull him close for a hug before Hasegawa sets them down. “Do you hate me now Ryo?”

“Hate you? The light of my life? Never.” Hasegawa grinned.

“And yet, you never call me? How am I supposed to trust you Ryo?”

“We could go get ice cream?”

“Ice Cream? Are we teenagers again?”

“I always feel so young with you (Y/N).”

“And here you go, trying to flatter me again. I’m not that easy.” You laughed as a deep blush crept across your face. Nanami felt a sudden pressure build up, like he was entirely separate from whatever world you and Hasegawa were existing in. Awkwardly standing less than three feet away from you both yet it felt like miles. The distance between you two has never been this noticeable to him before. You always felt close. Like he could look over his shoulder and you’d always be there. How could it change so suddenly?

You finally noticed Nanami standing there, stoic as always. You idly turned your body towards him, “I see you've met Ryosuke.”

“Yes, I was showing him around.” Nanami replied plainly.

“Yeah, with everything going on recently, I thought it’d be best if I familiarize myself with the place.” He replied. And the mood shifted again. That same feeling he felt when Itadori was around. You didn’t seem to notice.

“So you're in Tokyo for some time then?” (Y/N) smiled, “Gojo and I go drinking sometimes, you should come.”

“We haven’t even planned our ice cream date and you're already trying to get me drunk? You move too fast for me (Y/N).” He smirked.

You lightly hit his shoulder and turned back to Nanami, “Ignore him, he’s always like this. Would you like to come to Nanami?”

In a surprising act Nanami accepted the invitation. This caught him and You off guard. You always invited him as a formality but never thought he would agree. He was just as shocked. Something however was pulling him towards the idea. Something about Hasegawa was too alarming to let You be alone with him. Especially if he would be hanging around Jujutsu Tech. This is not the kind of person Nanami would allow himself to be careless around.

You cheered, “Great! Gojo will text you the place, we’ll go around 7!” That familiar blush deepened and somehow soothed Nanami slightly. Your presence did have that effect however. Not just to him but to those around you. It made you a good fit for being around the students so much. No wonder they favored you over Gojo (though that wasn’t a high bar to reach).

“I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” Nanami replied and excused himself.

“Thanks for showing me around!” Hasegawa called out as Nanami stepped into the building. The weight of his decision suddenly hit him as he crossed the classroom and heard Gojo’s voice. Just what did he get himself into?

[lilacura]

”Uh oh”

Genre: College

Tw: No tw

Summary:As Y/N faced the aftermath of her accidental love letter revelation, she grappled with the unexpected turn of events, hoping that amidst the chaos, she might find a silver lining to this cringe-worthy chapter in her college life. before reading this i suggest you read part 1!

In the aftermath of the unintentional revelation, Y/N found herself engulfed in a sea of whispers and pointed stares. The love letters, once carefully crafted expressions of her feelings, had become public spectacles. However, amidst the chaos, there was an unexpected turn of events that awaited her.

As the drama unfolded, Y/N noticed that Kim Minjeong's reaction differed from the others. Instead of exchanging amused glances or appearing bewildered, Minjeong seemed thoughtful, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and contemplation. It was as if the revelation had sparked a curiosity within her.

A few days after the embarrassing incident, Y/N found herself face to face with Minjeong by the lockers. The usual bustling campus hallway had quieted down, creating an almost intimate setting for their encounter. Minjeong, with a seemingly indifferent expression, approached Y/N.

"I read your letter," Minjeong admitted, her tone firm but not unkind. Y/N's heart raced, unsure of how Minjeong would react. "I must say, it was unexpected, but also incredibly sincere."

Y/N, still grappling with embarrassment, managed a nervous smile. "I didn't mean for anyone to read them. It was supposed to be a secret."

Minjeong raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. "Secrets have a way of finding their way into the open, don't they?" She paused, studying Y/N with a thoughtful expression. "Your words were beautiful, though. And I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to them."

Y/N, surprised by Minjeong's response, stammered, "Well, I... I just didn't know how else to express my feelings. It wasn't meant for everyone to see."

Minjeong's expression softened ever so slightly. "I appreciate your honesty. Maybe it's time we create our own narrative, away from the prying eyes of gossip."

In the days that followed, Y/N and Minjeong started spending more time together. Minjeong's tone remained consistently firm, her words often carrying a no-nonsense attitude, but beneath that exterior was a genuine care that gradually became evident.

Their interactions deepened, from casual conversations to shared laughter over inside jokes. Y/N discovered that Minjeong's seemingly cold exterior was a protective shield that hid a person of depth and complexity.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the school courtyard, Minjeong led Y/N to a quiet bench beneath a blossoming cherry blossom tree.

"You know," Minjeong started, her tone as firm as ever, "I've never been one for grand gestures or flowery confessions. But there's something about you, Y/N."

Y/N met Minjeong's intense gaze, captivated by the vulnerability that flickered in her eyes.

"You've managed to get under my skin," Minjeong continued, her words deliberate. "Your sincerity, even in the chaos, drew me in. And despite my best efforts to keep things straightforward, I find myself wanting to tell you something."

Y/N's heart raced as she waited for Minjeong's next words.

Minjeong took a deep breath, her demeanor softening. "I... care about you, more than I thought I would. Your letters, your honesty—it all made me realize that maybe I've been avoiding something genuine for too long."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. This was not the Minjeong she had come to know—the one who had been consistently firm and guarded. This was a vulnerable Minjeong, baring a truth she might not have expected herself.

"I'm not great with words, Y/N," Minjeong admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her expression. "But I want you to know that there's something here, something beyond the chaos and the drama. I care about you, and maybe that's enough for now."

As Minjeong's confession hung in the air, Y/N felt a rush of emotions. It was a different kind of vulnerability, one that transcended the tough exterior Minjeong had always presented.

The cherry blossoms rustled gently in the breeze, creating a serene backdrop to a moment that marked the beginning of a new chapter in Y/N and Minjeong's unexpected love story.

Their relationship continued to evolve, navigating the challenges of high school life. Minjeong, still true to her firm demeanor, showed her care through actions rather than words. Y/N, appreciating the depth of Minjeong's feelings, found solace in the steady presence of someone who had seen through the chaos and discovered the sincerity beneath.

Days turned into weeks, and Minjeong's protective demeanor slowly gave way to more vulnerable moments. One evening, under the soft glow of streetlights, they found themselves on a quiet park bench.

"Y/N," Minjeong began, her tone softer than usual, "I may not say it often, but you mean a lot to me. More than I anticipated."

Y/N smiled, appreciating the sincerity in Minjeong's words. "You mean a lot to me too, Minjeong. Even if you don't say it often."

Minjeong's gaze softened, and for a moment, the tough exterior melted away, revealing the depth of her emotions. "Maybe, one day, I'll get better at this. At expressing what I feel."

Y/N chuckled. "I'll be here, waiting for that day."

As the days unfolded and Y/N and Minjeong's connection deepened, the school hallways buzzed with whispers and comments about the infamous love letters. The once-private confessions had become fodder for gossip, and students couldn't resist speculating about Y/N's feelings and the reactions of her crushes.

One day, as Y/N was navigating through the crowded hallway, she overheard a group of students exchanging sly remarks about her letters. The comments ranged from mocking laughter to speculative whispers, and Y/N felt the weight of judgmental eyes on her.

Amidst the sea of gossip, Minjeong, always perceptive, noticed the discomfort in Y/N's eyes. With her usual firm tone that brooked no nonsense, she stepped forward, creating an invisible shield around Y/N.

"I suggest you all mind your own business," Minjeong declared, her voice cutting through the chatter like a cold wind. "Y/N's personal matters are just that—personal. If any of you have an issue with that, take it elsewhere."

The students, taken aback by Minjeong's stern demeanor, fell into an uneasy silence. It was a side of Minjeong they hadn't seen before—an assertive and protective force shielding Y/N from the judgment of others.

Y/N, grateful for the unexpected defense, glanced at Minjeong, who met her gaze with a nod of reassurance. The hallway, once filled with whispers, quieted down as the students dispersed, leaving Y/N and Minjeong in a momentary oasis of calm.

Later that day, in the peaceful shade of the campus courtyard, Y/N approached Minjeong with a thankful smile. "Thanks for stepping in back there. I didn't expect you to defend me like that."

Minjeong's expression remained composed, but a subtle warmth glinted in her eyes. "No one messes with what's mine," she stated, her tone still firm but carrying a protective undertone.

Y/N chuckled, appreciating the sentiment. "I guess I'm yours, then."

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Minjeong's lips. "Yeah, you are."

From that day forward, Minjeong's protective instinct became a constant shield against the prying eyes and judgmental whispers. Students soon learned that commenting on Y/N's letters meant dealing with Minjeong's cold, unwavering defense.

Their relationship, born amidst the chaos of unintentional confessions, flourished in the face of adversity. Y/N found solace in Minjeong's protective embrace, and Minjeong, with her seemingly impenetrable exterior, revealed a softer side reserved for the person who had managed to unravel the layers of her complexity.

Together, they faced the challenges of college life, their connection growing stronger with each passing day. Minjeong's cold tone, once a shield, transformed into a comforting reassurance for Y/N—a reminder that love, in its truest form, was an unwavering force that could withstand the scrutiny of the outside world. And so, beneath the cherry blossoms and the watchful eyes of their peers, Y/N and Minjeong's love story continued to unfold, marked by sincerity, protection, and the resilience that comes when two hearts decide to brave the storm together.

[justasecretflower]

🥀 Meeting Jeff! The killer again after dating him before he was a proxy🤍.

A/N- The long awaited sequel to my. Dating Jeff the killer before he was a proxy. Yes, I am still doing requests, except I’m writing really slow because I’m sick :(.

~fluff.

___________________________________________

- you met him again at a dingy old convenience store while you were out with your friends.

- he didn’t come back from murdering someone, he was just kinda hanging out and getting some junk food and that’s when he saw you, and you saw him.

___________________________________________

One of my friends pushed open the door with an exaggerated heave, laughing with my other three friends. After a long night of bar hopping with my friends f/n suggested that we stock up on gas station junk food then have a movie marathon at their house. Everyone agreed of course, being absolutely wasted and it being a Saturday night.

I walked into the local convenience store. The flickering lights reminded me of a worn down elementary school, the metal shelves top to bottom filled with up with sugary sweet candy to salty and spicy chips. bunch of junk food and a slushy machine was turning and making 3 flavors of slushy. Mindlessly, I walk towards the chips aisle. My shoes lightly tap on the dirty cold floor, crossing my arms to gain warmth in the cool atmosphere while my eyes roll over the options. I hear someone strolling through the aisle with me, instinctively I look over to see..Jeff?

He was looking at me, his head turned and his eyes glittered in such a peculiar way that I had to make sure I was seeing things right. His cheeks were cut, making him have a permanent smile, his black hair now shoulder length and tousled, dirty black converse, and a white hoodie stained with some slightly dried up blood stains. He looks so different, so..not him? Like after he went away he lost all sanity, fell into the depths of a black hole to never return, never find himself again. Nonetheless his eyes were still the same the same ocean blue, the ocean that I fell into and happily let myself drown in, the eyes that looked at me, one day, with a deep affection, with love and care, the eyes that would scan over mine, and without any words create poetry in my soul. My heart squeezed and started thumping hard and fast, like out of instinct to try and reach out for him. Reach out for his touch, his voice, his arms. I couldn’t even get a word out before f/n stuck their head into the chips aisle and asked if I was done in a chipper voice.

I just take a bag of hot fries, eyes still trained on Jeff, and walk away from him, sensing his eyes still burned into my back. Like he was having a hard time taking his gaze away from me out of pure subconscious instinct. I may be reading into it too much.

But it seemed like we both wanted to say something to each other.

___________________________________________

- Jeff would follow you to your friends house that night.

- it took him awhile to muster up the words bubbling in his throat, stalking you and just..standing in front of you all the time.

- eventually he rasped out your name in the most desperate, lost, love-filled tone that made you literally almost fall down to your knees.

- his tone was more so of desperation because of the void left in his heart after he became a killer and you had left his life. He had needed you back, to fill it.

- he tells you what he does now, killing, in a casual manner. But inside? He’s freaking out that you’ll leave him again.

- he can’t let anyone know he’s freaking out though…

- comes through your window to your room all the time?

- dates are just the park at night like when you were kids. Alone in the slide together just talking about random stuff.

- that or you’re having a movie night.

- he doesn’t give physical affection that much. But he likes receiving it.

- he’ll just wait for you to be in the right position for him to lay down his head so you can play with his hair

- calls it “stupid” (he loves it)

- bullies you /srs

- doesn’t introduce you to the other creeps not for your safety but because he’s jealous.

- randomly likes going into the forest just to aggressively push you up to a tree, grip your hair like there’s no tomorrow and kiss you hard.

- then walks away😟

- whenever you say “I love you” he says “you better”

- I don’t think he’s ever actually said “I love you” as an adult to you.

- if you do ever end up visiting the mansion in his room, he’ll push you off him if someone walks in his room.

- scarily overprotective

- he’s such a meanie too.

- he’s overprotective, unstable, and mean.

- if you’re arguing, he’ll punch a wall near you just to scare you.

- I’m sorry I romanticize him a lot you guys need this..

- when he’s gone for missions he doesn’t call or text.

- but when he gets back he’s super clingy even though he denies it.

- yes, he’s toxic. But he’s also just a really really mentally broken man that needs some love here and there.

- he’ll never give you a white picket fence dream. He’ll give you like..random 7-11 runs at 1:30 am, and chug a monster while discussing random stuff

- he doesn’t call you pet names. If he does it’s baby and that’s when he’s being super soft or sarcastic.

- definitely gave you a necklace with his blood in it…

Hope you liked it!!

Working on a bunch of drafts rn✍️

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