#every single crestfallen

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[defmaybe]

Promise

12 Days of Christmas: Day 2, December 26th, 2024

LE SSERAFIM’s Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader

8.8k words

Christmas Masterlist

A/N: This is actually my first time writing about a guy being dominant lol.

—

Ambition.

It’s not really a far-fetched concept for anyone. To aim higher has always been an innate trait in humans. Kazuha is nothing short of that, perhaps having the quality even more than a lot of people.

So, it breaks your heart to say no to her.

“Kazuha, I really can’t. I’m sorry,” you say, despondent in your response. “The solos have never been in our plan.”

She sighs, as if she has already known the outcome of her request. But her eyes remain determined, staring straight into yours. 

She’s not going anywhere.

Kazuha’s personality is nothing short of resolute. Motivation, determination, diligence—she has it all. These are reflected in the over-time practice sessions every single day. The time she pours into perfecting the dance choreographies is unreal. And it really shows on the stage, it really shows.

She stands up, her long, muscular legs come into your view. They’re beautiful, and you can just spend all day looking at them, but that’s going to be postponed for now. There’s the puzzle of guessing her mind right in front of you.

“Is there anything else I can do to convince you? More practice? Better stage perform–”

“No, Zuha, I’m so, so sorry about this, but we’ve never been a vocal group, really. You’ll have to under–”

“I don’t want to be remembered as just another member of this group. Please, this is important to me. I’ll do anything, please,” she pleads.

It’s your turn to sigh. She won’t let up, will she? Your fingers tap onto the handle of the chair restlessly, unable to find a solution for this woman.

“I just can’t find a solution for you right now, Zuha. If you really want that, you’ll have to find your own way, alright? I’m sorry.” You’re trying to sound stern, but there’s only regret within the words.

She takes a step towards you, resting her hands on the table. Her shirt falls down slightly to give way for you to her faint cleavage. Your breath hitches slightly.

“Please?” she pleads, one last time. That slight view of her breasts is giving her the upper hand in this.

Don’t.

You find your mouth latching onto Kazuha’s tits, tasting the sweat after her practice. She cries and cries in euphoria, spurring you on. Your hands roam around her body, feeling her otherworldly tight abs, her supple ass—one that you’ve been wanting to bury your face into. Your fingers then find their place inside her cunt, nudging her sensitive spot deep within.

Don’t

“You know, Kazuha, I found your ambition–” you say, standing up to match her tall height. Still, you have to look up slightly to match her eyes. “–admirable. It’s one of your best qualities. It really breaks my heart to say no to you.”

“Thanks, boss,” she scoffs, looking down with despondency. The fire in her eyes died down. “I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

Kazuha then walks away, crestfallen. Her strides are aimless and disinterested. The view of her back is displayed to you. 

With your eyes, you start to strip her, piece by piece—from her shirt, her pants. She’s in just her underwear now. Your cock starts to grow at the mental image you create inside your head. 

You slowly unlock her bra, fully revealing her toned back. Her body warmth emanates into you. You reach for her pert breasts, making her moan as your fingers graze her hard, brown nipples. But you don’t stop just there. Your frisky fingers wander down into her panties. You found out that she shaves, and she’s already fucking wet for you. Then, you plunge your fingers into her soaked cunt, rewarding you with an airy moan from Kazuha. You nib on her ears softly, bringing out another whimper from her.

Without any patience left, you strip down her last garment, making her bare in front of you, and you can tell that she’s as aroused as you are. Her dripping cunt is finally coming into your view. Her body is yours. She’s yours.

Don’t.

You’re snapped back into reality, though. Back to watching her, almost leaving the room. You have to take your chance. 

Now.

“I’m not done yet, Zuha,” you order, sounding serious for the first time. It gets over you. Lust gets over you.

She stops, looking back at you. Her breath hitches as she sees the newfound determination inside your eyes. There’s something about you, and she can feel it.

“Yes, boss?”

“Let’s say for tomorrow, you wear something–different, something that is a bit more–provocative, and we’ll see what happens.”

Kazuha furrows her brows, giving you a puzzled look. “P–Provocative?”

You only nod, expressionless, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating so damn fast right now. “Provocative, Zuha.”

“A–And wh–what will I get in return?” Kazuha asks, her voice starts to shake. Her confidence is faltering.

You smile back at her unsure expression. She’s going to get what she wants—a chance to have the spotlight on her own. You’re going to get what you want—her.

“You know how this goes, Zuha. You know how this goes.”

“I–I d–don’t know. D–Do I really need to do this? I mean–I want to have that solo–”

“I’ll be in the practice room tomorrow, make sure to follow my instructions,” you say, stern and confident.

The words linger within her mind. “I–fuck–fine, boss,” and she gives in to you.

“Don’t ruin it, Zuha.”

—

You couldn’t sleep last night.

Kazuha is stuck in your head. Your mind replays the event that might happen—you having a mind-breaking sex with her. Your cock twitches with anticipation, expecting her cunt to wrap around it like a vice. Hell, you might get to fuck her tight ass even. You’ve seen it. You lost count of how many times you’ve watched that Perfect Night dance practice video. The cinematographer did know their job.

“Mmm, that felt so good, boss.”

How in the fuck did you stay assertive like that in the room? That wasn’t you at all. Though, at least it opened a new door for you.

You’re getting to watch Nakamura Kazuha in her tightest, smallest clothes she’s ever going to wear, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be off by sunset.

—

Kazuha opens the door into the practice room to find you already there, dealing with work, among other things.

You give her a faint smile, satisfied with the way she composes herself for today.

She’s wearing a tight-fitted sports bra, one that shows you the curve of her firm chest. You’d love to put your hand on them, kneading, nibbling her taut nipples through the thin fabric. Her hair is freed, swaying with her strides. Below, her shorts are so damn strained that you can see the outline of her soon-to-be drenched panties. You’re going to use your mouth to take it off, while your hands grip on her muscular thig–

“Hey, boss,” Sakura snaps you back into reality. Standing beside her is Eunchae, smiling brightly.

“Shit–fuck–,” you mumble to yourself. “Uh, hi, girls.”

“Yeah, I noticed it too,” Eunchae says to you, voice barely above a whisper. “She probably forgot to do her laundry.”

“Who–Who?” Fuck, you sound like a goddamn owl doing this.

“Zuha, she’s wearing something that’s a bit–exposing, isn’t she?” Sakura says, smiling.

“Bet she must be so damn embarrassed,” Eunchae adds with a giggle. You can feel your cheeks starting to grow hotter.

“Uh, y–yeah, she must’ve been–”

“Alright, girls, let’s start the practice,” the instructor shouts, clapping her hands.

Sakura and Eunchae giggle at each other before walking away from you.

“See ya, boss.”

“See ya.”

—

As the practice goes on, you can’t help but popping up from your work to watch Kazuha now and then. Just like last night, your length starts to grow, and you’re doing your best to use your laptop to hide the tent in your pants.

(The work is actually a façade, really. If you could just stare at Kazuha for the whole practice, you wouldn’t have risked straining your back carrying your laptop down from the top floor.)

Her movements are nothing short of strong and sensual. She’s committed, showing no signs of relenting. She has always been this determined. Every kick, every sway, every arch, she gives it all.

When she bends down, you have a magnificent view of her supple ass, so juicy. You wish you could’ve put your face in it, tasting her sweat dripping down her tightness. 

When she arches, you have a splendid view of her small tits under that damn tight sports bra. You wish you could’ve sucked on them, tasting her sweat dripping down her valley. You wish you could’ve made her moan erratically in your embrace.

Your bulge is screaming under your tight pants. It aches to be freed, aches to be inside of your employee’s ass, aches to be thrusted into her mouth.

The other women don’t seem to notice, still focusing on the practice. Thank god.

—

As the practice comes to an end, you’re struggling to hide your raging erection under your slacks. It’s time to approach her for the next step, so you stand up and walk towards Kazuha, who is all drenched in her sweat. Her creamy skin shines against the lights in the practice room. She’s stretching to cool down herself, while all the other members and the instructor are already leaving the room.

“So,” you begin the conversation.

“So,” Kazuha repeats. “How did I do?”

You try to compose yourself. “You did well, Kazuha. Committed as always.”

She smiles. It’s a genuine one. “Thanks, boss.”

You continue, “Now, about the solo comeback we’ve talked about.” You sit next to her. You can feel her body warmth close to you. Maybe you’re sitting a bit too close to her. Her expression is unreadable. Maybe she’s expecting something from you.

“Yeah? Is it done?”

“Let’s say–we’re halfway there.”

Kazuha’s breaths speed up a little. She’s anxious.

“Halfway?”

“Halfway, yes.”

“Go ahead, boss. Tell me what to do,” Kazuha says, slightly apprehensive, but she still has her ground. Her fiery eyes bore into yours.

Here goes nothing.

Your hands make a soft contact with her knees. You hear her breath hitch softly. Her eyes weaken. You can feel the apprehension building up within her loins. Her body jolts.

“B–Boss,” she stutters, before she brings her hand atop of yours, putting some force on it. Your movement is halted.

“A–Are you sure that I have to do this?”

You should stop.

You gulp, unsure whether to have this woman go your way or let your lust take over.

Do the right thing.

The image of Kazuha’s body, all sweaty, atop of yours, moving back and forth on your cock, materializes in your head. Her nasty, salty fluid falls onto your naked body. Her pungent aroma fills your nostrils, and it’s driving you insane. Her small breasts rest above you, and you can’t help but give them a taste.

You should stop.

Kazuha mouth’s create a suction around your cock. Your wails echo through the practice room. You grip onto the back of her head, harshly pressing it into your hardness. She gags and gags. Her eyes become watery. Her grips on your thighs grow harsher, and it’s going to draw blood out of you.

Do the right thing.

You’re lavishing Kazuha’s cunt with unmatched hunger. She cries out in ecstasy. You keep attacking her sensitive nub with your tongue. Your fingers are knuckles deep within her, applying pressure on the spot that makes her moan even louder. Her taste is salty, yet so addictive. She tastes so fucking good.

You should stop.

You’re gripping onto her waist, thrusting into her wet cunt repeatedly. “Yes, yes, right fucking there, boss. Please, please, please don’t ever fucking stop,” Kazuha sobs. Wet sounds vibrate through the practice room. The reflection of you two in the mirror only fuels the fire. You bring your hands onto her firmness, playing with her taut nipples. She keens, and it’s one of the best things that you’ve ever heard from her.

Do the right thing.

But you give in.

“How far can you go, Zuha?” You keep your composure. Please make it work. Your heart rate spikes, but your breathing is still saying the opposite. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.

“I–” She stares blankly into your eyes. You can feel that the gears in her brain are turning quickly. Yes or no. Yes or no.

“Stand up, Zuha,” you order and get up from your sitting position. She looks around, trying to find solace in the objects in the room. She’s unsure.

“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself, before getting up. She’s a bit taller than you, but with the power you’re holding, it’s like you’re six-feet tall.

“Stand against the mirror,” you say, sternly, pointing to the reflective wall. She hesitates for a bit before complying with your command.

You walk towards her until you’re just a breath away from her. You kneel. Her cunt is right in front of your face. She’s pervading your nostrils, and you’re so damn happy to make her your air.

“A–are you going to eat me out, b–boss?” Kazuha asks nervously. Her hands are trembling.

“How much do you want this, Zuha?” you ask her back. Your hands are closing in on her tight waistband already. You want to eat her pussy so fucking bad.

“I–I don’t know.”

You let the silence hang in the air for a moment, contemplating your next move. Maybe you should stop just here. Just say no to her request, and act like this never happened. 

But the show has to go on.

“I’ll go slowly, okay?”

“O–Okay, boss.”

You slowly peel down her shorts, slowly revealing her black panties underneath. They’re already drenched with her sweat. God, if you could just give it a taste. You can feel the urge to stick out your tongue. Her creamy thighs are slowly exposed to you, but you can’t just yield to temptation that easily. You have to go slow.

The outline of her puffy cunt can be seen through the dark fabric. She looks so fucking delicious from the outside. You find yourself closing in the distance between your filthy tongue and her pungent, drenched folds.

“Boss, p–please don’t tease me,” Kazuha hisses. Her thighs are shaking from the uncompromising anticipation. You can see sweat running down her toned legs. “If you’re going to do it, just fucking do it.”

And you break.

You yank her shorts down, making her body jolt in shock. 

“Kick it off,” you order her, and she kicks her shorts away in the boiling lust. It’s just her underwear now, before your tongue can taste her nectar. You’re drooling at the sight of the trace of her pussy. Fuck, you’re not waiting anymore.

Hastily, you grab onto her panties’ waistband before pulling it off in a quick swoop, rewarding you with an airy moan. And there it is, the treasure you’ve been seeking. Her clean-shaven cunt already glistens. Her juice shines under the room’s lights. Her scent is so damn addictive. It’s pungent. It’s musky. It’s tart, and you can’t help but–

“Ah! Fuck!” Kazuha rasps as your tongue finds its place on her cunt. It echoes through the empty practice room. Her body turns rigid. Her hands grip onto your head harshly, pushing you into her pussy even harder.

The first taste of her cunt feels salty—a combination of her sweat and her juice. You’re lapping it up relentlessly. You’re revelling in it—the way she moans, the way she tastes, and the way she just fucking keens. It’s all so perfect.

She curses and curses a variety of profanities. Her face displays pure ecstasy and a glint of embarrassment, but your only goal right now is to make her falter. You keep lapping and lapping on her cunt, tasting her nectar without yielding.

Her eyes are lit up with raging fire, fluttering in bliss. Her hands grip onto your head harshly. It's almost drawing blood from your poor scalp. Her cries only climb in volume and frequency, more demanding. It grows louder and higher with each lapping of your tongue.

You double your efforts, eating her cunt out faster and faster hungrily. Her rasps become harsher. You close your eyes and take in her scent through your nose. It’s musky. It’s tart. And you swear that it’s a fucking aphrodisiac for you.

And if it’s not enough, your hands grab onto her firm ass, suffocating yourself with her pungent cunt. She lets out a gasp, and you swear that you’ve never been any more feral like this in your whole fucking life.

Her ass feels so meaty, a product of her consistent squat routines. You do nothing but give them a squeeze and a grab, bringing out endless wails from her thin lips.

Then, an idea pops up in your filthy head.

“Turn around, Zuha.”

“Wh–What, boss?”

“I’m gonna eat your ass.”

She complies quickly, showing her tight ass in front of your face. It’s heaving. She’s expecting. And without a word, you bury yourself in between her supple cheeks. Your tongue immediately plants atop of her asshole.

“Godddd~” Kazuha grunts, her voice low and harsh. The sweat running down her tightness combining with her juice makes up an even better taste. You’re basking in them—her taste, her aroma, her moans, her sounds.

Her body spasms in a bliss. Her hips jerk against the practice room wall, painting it with her salty sweat on her meaty thighs.

And if that isn’t already enough, you drive your fingers deep into her. They’re hugged by her tight walls, before you’d curl them to make her cry even more.

“Fuckkk~” she groans, deeply. She uses her hands to grip onto the back of your head. You’re pressed into her ass even stronger. Her moans start to get frenzy, and that drives you even wilder.

“B–Boss, please, I–I’m gonna cum,” Kazuha screams, echoing over the room. Her entire body turns more rigid, sucking the life out of your dirty mouth.

“Hgnngn.” Kazuha can only form unintelligible sounds at this point. Any lilt in her voice is now replaced by primal grunts and moans.

And she cums. Her frame becomes stiff, gushing out clear liquid out of her plump pussy onto the wooden floor. Her entire body spasms and writhes against the wall, painting it with her sweat. Your mouth goes through the entire ride of her orgasm, feeling her high, savoring her precipice.

As her orgasm dies down, what comes out of her mouth are indescribable groans and guttural whimpers. Her body becomes limped after the mind-breaking orgasm she just experienced.

“Fuck, I–I’ve never thought–” she pauses to catch her breath, trying to make sense of the situation. Her head is hanging from her neck. Her body rests on the mirror weakly. Her boss just gave her one of the best orgasms of her life. “–I’ve never thought that it could be this good with a person.”

You wipe your mouth, getting a taste of her salty squirt remaining on your hand. “My pleasure, Zuha.”

“Guess–Guess I should–I should return the favor, huh?”

You stand up. Even if she’s towering over you by mere inches, you feel like the ball is in your court, and you are going to do whatever you please with it.

“Kneel.”

She slowly gets down. Her eyes lock with yours, filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You aren’t sure what’s filling her mind right now. Lust? Disgust? You can only guess.

You let it go on, anyway.

Her slick forehead shines against the room lights. Her hands start to unbuckle your tight jeans, slowly freeing your cock from its fabric cage. As the first barrier goes down, she watches your covered erection anxiously. Her breathing accelerates. Her hands tremble. She’s unsure, but what is she unsure about?

“B–Boss,” Kazuha stammers.

“Yes, Zuha?” you say, looking down to meet her eyes.

“Wh–What if I don’t do well?”

“I don’t mind, really. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Sure, you’d love to have power over her, but not to the point where it leaves her in dread.

“Thanks, boss,” she answers, before grabbing onto the edge of your boxers. She slowly pulls it down to reveal your hardness. It springs free. She’s watching it in awe, taking in the image of your stiff cock.

She starts slowly, stroking your cock from the base. Your breath becomes shorter.

“Are you okay, boss?”

“J–Just go on, Zuha.”

Kazuha then plants her lips on the tip of your cock, making your body shudder in pleasure. She’s coating you in her saliva. She’s making you go wild.

“Fuck.”

Kazuha lets out a giggle before taking in more of your length, starting from the whole tip. There’s determination in her eyes, the eagerness to make you cry out her name in bliss.

She doubles her efforts, second by second. She takes in more and more of your thick cock into her filthy mouth, and you start to reach her throat. It feels so fucking good. Your breathing grows more erratic. You can almost moan in pleasure, if it’s not her teeth that keep getting in the way. They keep grazing your cock, and it’s the only thing that stops you from crying her name out.

“Z–Zuha, shit, fuck, y–your teeth.”

She suddenly pulls back from the act, leaving you lost in the sudden absence of your high. Her hand detaches from you.

“Yes?” she asks, drool leaks out the edge of her mouth.

“Fuck.” You try to catch your breath, trying not to collapse onto the floor. “Y–Your teeth, it keeps grazing my cock.”

“Oh,” Kazuha utters. “Should we just–try something else?”

You stare into her eyes. Her expression is unreadable, but you need an upper hand in this. She’s going to suck your cock.

“Do it again, Zuha. Suck my cock again.” Your voice is commanding. You swear that you’ve never been this assertive before in your life. “Without the teeth.”

She looks up at you. There’s anxiety in her eyes. There’s the fear of letting you down.

“S–Sure, boss.”

She moves her gorgeous face towards your cock again. This time, she makes sure to wrap her lips around her teeth. And at the first contact, you cry out her name. It feels so fucking good.

“Fuck, Z–Zuha.”

She only smiles with the tip of your cock in her mouth. She stays there for a while, giving your tip licks and licks to make you whimper in rapture. Her hands stroke along your length. Her eyes look up at you, she knows she’s having a lead.

Kazuha then takes more and more of you and seconds go by, slowly. You watch as your length disappears into her mouth and her name leaves yours.

She takes your cock in so deep you start to hear her gag. Her eyes start to flutter in discomfort. She’s still trying to look up at you, as her hands go to your testicles. She’s squeezing them.

“God, fuck!”

Her saliva does wonders to the experience, making you suck a sudden every chance you have. It’s hard to resist not pushing her fully onto your cock right now, making her take its length fully.

“K–Keep doing that, Zuha. Keep fucking doing that.”

With encouragement, she then pushes herself fully onto your cock. You are now inside her mouth, and the image is nothing short of phenomenal. Saliva is leaking out of her. Her eyes are blinking rapidly. Tears are running down her cheeks. She’s making unintelligible sounds around your cock, choking on it, sputtering on it. It’s a cacophony. She’s submitting herself to you, and you’re loving every second of it.

“So eager to please, don’t you?” you have to ask. Your hands land on the back of her head softly.

She only let out a hum as a reply. Her mouth is too full of your cock to say anything. It’s huge for her. She’s cock-drunk now.

Finally catching the wind of your dominance over her, you sneer, “Never know that you’re quite a slut, Zuha.” You grip her by the hair, slowly pulling her off your thick cock. She chokes and sputters on the way out. God, what a sight.

As her mouth leaves your cock, you finally get to see her face fully. Black streaks run down from her eyes. Her lips are swollen. She’s drooling. 

“What a cockslut,” you utter, still holding onto her hair. A smile forms on her face. She’s fucking happy to be dominated like this.

“Anything for you, boss. You promised me a solo~” she says sultrily (and drunkenly from your cock), giving the tip of your length a lick as she finishes her words. Your body shudders.

“G–God, Zuha,”

Without another word, she dives onto your glistened dick again, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Her teeth graze your cock slightly, though.

“Sh–Shit, your teeth, Zuha, y–your teeth.”

She quickly complies, covering her hard teeth with her lips. She’s fucking you with her mouth properly again. She bobs her head up and down slowly, trying to catch the rhythm. Pleasure shoots through you like a bullet. And with the way she’s looking up at you so damn submissively, you swear you can cum right here and now.

She starts to find her tempo, quickening her strokes. She’s going up and down your cock faster. Her hands find themselves on your exposed thighs. Fuck, they’re cold from the air conditioners, and it makes your body tremble in the sensation.

The wet sound of her sucking your cock echoes through the room. Your hands, again, find themselves on the back of her head, pushing her into your cock relentlessly. Your fingers run through her soft hair, feeling her silk.

“Fuck, s–such a willing slut for your boss, don’t you?”

Kazuha only lets out a low groan affirmatively. She’s still aiming to pleasure her boss. Her career is at stake, after all, and you’re rejoicing in the way her mouth moves up and down your cock like this.

And you can feel it, the inevitable. It’s building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside her warm mouth. You can’t resist it anymore.

“Z–Zuha, gonna cum.”

She only makes muffled sounds into your cock, too busy sucking your length to say anything, and you’re so damn happy that she’s willing to go this far for you.

“Take all of it, alright? Be a good girl for me,” you groan out. Your mind is so lost in the pleasure Kazuha is giving you.

She can only nod, still bobbing her head without any care. She’s giving you a damn good blowjob, and you start to lose control of yourself.

You’re close. Your muscles grow more tense. Your cock twitches inside her mouth. Your grip on her head becomes harsher and harsher, determined to make her take all of your hardness.

“Gonna–Gonna cum.”

You break. You push Kazuha onto your cock harshly, making her nose hit your pubic bone. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of semen into her mouth, emptying your balls inside her. She’s damn eager to take it all. She’s gripping onto your thighs tightly. Your scent is filling up her nostrils, making her eyes flutter in unbridled lust. Gagging sounds come out of her mouth.

“Goddamn–fuck!”

Your vision turns white. Your cock twitches violently inside her mouth. Cum is leaking out of your tip into her warm cavern. You’re painting the insides of her mouth white. You’re damn ecstatic. What a fucking ride that is.

Successive spurts grow softer, from shots into drizzles. Kazuha is still determined to take it all. Her hands snake up to squeeze your tight ass, pressing you forward to bury yourself further in her mouth.

“F–Fuck, Zuha.”

She smiles, before finally pulling herself off of your cock. She takes a small gulp, signaling that cum is going down her slutty throat. You watch in awe. She then opens her mouth, tongue hanging open, no trace of cum left inside. Fuck, she drank all of you.

“What’s next, boss?” she asks, wiping the remnants of cum off her face. Her face is a mess, but she’s ready for another round.

Not you, though.

“Wait a sec.” You then sit on the wooden floor, looking into the mirror. Kazuha rests beside you.

“Gotta wait for this little guy to be ready again, huh?” she asks, touching your now-flaccid cock.

“We can talk.”

She then rests her head on your shoulder, faint black streaks can be seen on her face. You can feel her body warmth emanating onto you.

“So.”

“So?” you ask.

“So, I have a question for you,” says Kazuha. Her voice is weak, clearly tired from the oral action she gave you. You two make eye contact in the reflection.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you decide to become our manager?”

“Well–” you pause, trying to recollect the complete picture. You just keep forgetting it “–I kind of wanted to become an idol, you know?”

She lets out a soft chuckle. “But?”

You can’t help but to laugh along with her. “Yeah, my body isn’t really up for the task.” You then pat your out-of-shape tummy softly on your shirt.

“I’d like to be remembered, just like you,” you continue, sighing along the way. “To live among the stars, all that stuff.”

It starts to pour out now, your story. Despite the earlier dominance, you feel vulnerable with her. You’re showing your heart to one of your employees.

Kazuha laughs again. “It’s not all confetti and flowers, boss.”

“I know, I know,” you say, somewhat understanding her life after a few years of observation from afar. “All of you have gone through a lot, and I’ll forever admire you guys for that.”

“Thanks, boss,” she replies. Her hand moves down to play with your cock again. “Still not there, huh?”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. “It’ll take some time, Zuha.”

“Ask me something, then,” she says. 

You let the silence hang in the air, trying to think of a question. It’s difficult, especially when you’re naked down from your waist like this.

You were about to ask her the same question she had asked you, but you’ve asked her that already. She loves Blackpink, hence her idol aspirations. She's an INFP, used to be an INTP. Her eyesight gets worse with time. What’s left to be asked?

“You know, I was so scared when that interviewer asked me about my type,” she says, her hands caressing your body. Your mind is brought to that interview, the one she–

“I was so afraid that the fans would reject me just because I said ‘men or women’.”

You can only sigh.

“It seemed like they didn’t, Zuha,” you shoot her a smile, holding her hand gently, as if you didn’t fuck her throat senseless mere minutes ago. “Don’t give much fuck about those people.”

She lets out a giggle. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

The conversation goes on for a few more minutes. At first, it was simply a time killer, waiting for your soft cock to get hard again. But as it flows, you feel like you get to know Kazuha more and more.

Slowly, your arousal returns, and Kazuha seems to notice that. It twitches in the expectation of another round.

“Oh, look at him~” she says softly. Her hand is drawn to touching you gently. You can’t help but giggle as she caresses your hard cock.

“Stand up, Zuha,” you command. You’re trying to sound stern, but the exchange earlier just softens your voice.

She complies immediately. Her toned legs are displayed elegantly in front of you. You stand up with her, taking the full view of her body on the way.

What a banger body.

“What’s next, boss?” Her words seem to want you to get this over with, but the small smile plastered on her face seems to say otherwise.

You pause, thinking for some witty response as you unbutton your shirt, revealing your out-of-shape body. You clearly have been eating too much. It’s a bit embarrassing.

What’s next?

“I want your bra off, Zuha.” Well, that’s far from witty.

“Thought you’d never ask that,” Kazuha playfully scoffs before taking off her tight sports bra. Her small breasts come into view, along with the taut nipples proudly sitting atop of them. She can’t wait for what’s next, so do you. The bra is then thrown away onto the floor. Her naked body stands proudly in front of you.

She’s nothing short of unreal—the pert breasts, the firm abs, the glistened pussy. She’s sculpted by a deity. And without a word, you push Kazuha onto the mirror, drawing out an airy moan from her. You press your body against hers, while her back is pressed against the wall.

She sucks a sudden. Her hands are trembling against the mirror. Her eyes are closed, enamored in the expectations of you inside of her cunt.

“F–Fuck, boss.”

“I know, Zuha. Now if you’d bend over for me.”

She quickly follows your orders, flipping her body around so that her back faces you. Your cock is pressed against her ass. You let out a hum in satisfaction.

You draw a line with your finger down her spine, making her suck in the air. Sweat from the earlier activity still lingers on her back. Her body quivers in pleasure. She’s submitting to you now.

“Goddd~” Kazuha groans. She’s at the mercy of your touch.

Your finger runs down the middle of her back, down her sculpted arch, to the ridge of her tight ass. She screams, as your finger makes contact with the outer of her puckered hole.

“Fuck!” Her whole body shakes erratically, overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re giving her. Her breathing grows restless.

“Slut,” you whisper the demeaning word into her ear. You’d argue that it fit her, with her being a whimpering mess under your touch.

You circle your finger around her asshole, heightening her moans. You feel the creased patch of skin on your finger, letting out a satisfied hum, but that’s not your main course. You then draw your finger down, touching her wet heat. Kazuha sucks a sudden, before you push your finger into her. 

Her cunt welcomes you easily. You swear that the wail coming out of her mouth is one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. You watch her face become contorted in the mirror. She’s lost in the bliss you’re giving her.

You slowly push yourself into her pussy, burying yourself in the wet heat. Kazuha’s body shakes with pleasure. You insert your whole finger into her, before touching a rough patch inside her.

That’s where you make her collapse.

You curl your finger to touch her sensitive spot, and as expected, Kazuha lets out a sharp, sudden moan. Her legs are barely holding her up. She’s faltering, and you’re enjoying every second of it.

“F–Fuckkk~”

You double your efforts, stimulating where she needs the most. Your finger is engulfed by her tight, wet heat. She feels warm. You’re loving the way she feels around you. You’re loving the way she submits to you. You’re loving the way she fucking keens from your finger inside her. Fuck, you need even more.

You quicken the pace, and it is making her quiver uncontrollably. How she’s shuddering around you, how she moans. It’s just unreal for you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You couldn’t have found a better woman in your life who you’d find as angelic as Nakamura Kazuha.

“Goddamn it, Kazuha. You’re doing so fucking well for me,” you say, playing with her inner walls recklessly. She’s shaking under you. The sound of it is spurring you on. The smell of it is making you go feral. The sight of it is making you feel the power you’ve never felt before in your life.

“G–Gonna c–cum, boss,” she utters, mustering up any energy left to say it. Her eyes are rolling upwards now.

Then, you regretfully withdraw your finger out of her. The engulfing wet heat is now missing from your fingers. She groans in disappointment.

“What the fuck?” Her expression is on the line of anger.

You smirk at her through the reflection, sucking your finger lewdly. She’s salty. Still, that doesn’t seem to lighten up her mood.

“Goddamn it, you’re fucking insufferable,” she sneers, still pissed off by your sudden absence. You have other plans, at least.

“Stand still for me, please,” you say with unwavering calmness, getting a hold of her waist. You’re fucking her properly.

Her expression changes, realizing your next action. “Oh,” she utters.

And for the first time, you plunge yourself into her, feeling the way her tight, wet cunt hugs your cock. It feels so fucking ecstatic. The sensation pierces through your entire body like a spear. She keens loudly, and so do you. It echoes around the room that’s yours.

“Fucking hell–” you give her ass a harsh spank, she wails in the concoction of pain and pleasure “–you’re so fucking tight, Zuha.”

“Th–Thanks, boss,” she replies, as you slowly push your hardness inside her to the hilt. “Y–You’re big too.”

You chuckle, and you swear that it’s the most wicked laugh you’ve ever let out. Your thighs press against her ass, before you drag your hips back. Her tightness around you is making your cock throb, and you thrust back into her cunt. You grunt loudly, and so does she.

“Nghhh~” Kazuha groans, as you find your rhythm in plowing her pussy. You start fucking her properly this time with your cock, pounding into her with no abandon. She feels so good around you.

No words can describe the feeling of fucking Kazuha’s cunt. It’s something beyond your comprehension—the tightness of her alone, the power you’re holding over her, the sounds of her guttural grunts and groans and moans and whimpers. It’s just nothing short of unreal.

“D–Don’t you dare–ah–fucking pull out th–this time, boss,” she commands, trying to sound as stern as possible. Though, it comes out weakly, just like her limp body right now.

“What if I do, huh?” And you give her ass another loud spank. She whimpers. Her resolve falters. Her posture almost collapses.

“Hgngnn.” She can only let out a whimper as you kiss the vanilla skin of her neck. She’s salty from the sweat lingering on her body. Her scent pervades your nose violently. You swear that she’s like an aphrodisiac to you. It’s driving you feral. Her skin shines under the room's light beautifully, and you only wish you can just stay with her like this forever.

“B–Boss,” she mewls, her voice weak and lost.

“Yes, Zuha?” You’re still ramming into her with reckless abandon. Her tight cunt hugs your length perfectly, coaxing the cum out of your balls.

“Gonna–Gonna cum.”

You say nothing but upping your ante, pressing her harder into the mirror. Her tits are splayed on the wall. Her walls contract for you, drawing breathless moans out of your lips. Both of your mouths hang open in bliss. You both want this.

“Cum for me, Zuha, but don’t think this is over yet.” You give her rear another slap. The skin clashes against your hand. She wails, as you lean in for a whisper, “There’s another hole to be filled.”

“Hhgnn,” she grunts under the weight of your promise. Her arms go limp, both hanging just beside her pliant body. Her mind is filled with nothing but your cock inside her pussy.

And she cums for the second time today. Her walls contract around your cock, gripping you like a vice. She lets out a guttural groan from the depth of her lungs. Her right cheek is pressed against the mirror, painting it with her slick sweat.

“Fuck! Goddd~” she shouts loudly from the force of her violent orgasm. You relentlessly fuck her through the forceful orgasm, pulling groans and grunts out of her as much as possible.

Her orgasm subsides, leaving her shaking body as the evidence of it. Her pussy is still contracting around your cock. You slow down, and the other plan comes into play.

You pull your hard length out of her cunt. You’re all glistening in her juice now. It’s strange. You usually cum a lot faster than this. Though, with Kazuha, it’s like you can just go on and on forever.

You insert your fingers inside her pussy, making her entire body tremble in shock once more. You’re trying to gather her slick juice to smear your cock with any lubricant you can find. Your bottle is too far away from you right now (about fifteen floors away, under your table). The wetness of her cunt is really helping you here.

“What a slut,” you sneer at her, as she whimpers in response to the degrading name. “Look at you, all wet for me.”

“P–Please, boss,” she pleads, her voice shaken with unrelenting desire. Her body is trembling with unbridled anticipation.

“Please what, Zuha?”

“Please f–fuck my ass, I–I need it,” she whines, and you couldn’t be happier to fulfill her wish.

You rest your tip at the entrance of her ass—teasing, playing with her. She whines at the act, as if she really wants your cock inside her ass so fucking bad (she does). Your cock in all glistened in her slick juice, ready to fuck her rear hole raw.

And slowly, and carefully, you push your cock into her tightness, inch by inch. Her body trembles as you find yourself inside her once more. She cries out in bliss. The lubricant definitely helps.

“F–Fuck, nghhh.”

You respond to her moans by pushing ever further into her ass. Your body presses onto her more and more, feeling her damp back, gathering her sweat on your body. The warmth around your cock is just too much. She grips you like a vice. 

“Goddamn it, Zuha. Is this your first time in the ass?” you grunt. Your voice is raspy.

“Nghhh, n–no, boss. This is my second time, b–but I–I’ve never cum from that,” she whines. Her hands are pressed against the mirror harshly. You’ll have to be more gentle if you don’t want to break this expensive reflective wall.

You keep pushing and pushing, and finally, you are buried deep up to the hilt. The tightness of her ass is just unreal. A loud moan escapes your lips. Fuck, she’s tight, too tight.

You stay inside the depth of her ass for a few more seconds, feeling yourself inside of her tight ass. You’re hoping that she’s at least enjoying this a little bit.

She does, after all, moaning and writhing like that.

“You love this, don’t you, Zuha? You love having my cock inside your ass like this,” you taunt her, rewarding you with breathless whimpers and moans out of her lips.

“I–I love it, b–boss,” she answers, stuttered and shaken. The sensation is just too much for her. Your hands snake up her body to her small breast, a pair that’s unforgettable for you. You decide to give her nipples some soft treatment with your filthy hands, rubbing them between your fingers.

“Look at you, your nipples are all hard for me.” You run the sides of your fingers up and down her nipples, feeling them between your digits. She lets out guttural grunts and groans in pleasure. “What a goddamn slut.”

“Nghhn.”

After what feels like an eternity inside her ass—so warm, so tight—you draw your hips backwards. Her walls are grazing your cock, making the retreat so damn ecstatic. You pull back until half of your cock is out of her puckered hole, before pushing yourself back in. You let out primal moans with it.

“God, fuck!”

Her ass feels so tight, so right.

You start to find your pace in ravaging Kazuha’s ass. You set the rhythm in fucking her properly. The room reeks of sex, no matter how big it is. The only thing filling your nostrils right now is the smell of Kazuha’s sweat and something that screams her.

Your hands are still kneading Kazuha’s small breasts enthusiastically. Touching them fills you with unbridled joy. They feel so–soft, so–firm in your hands, as you plow into her ass with no abandon.

“Fucking love these tits, Zuha,” you utter. The words come out before you can suppress it. Your mind is filled with the sensation of fucking her ass and groping her tits. “So–soft, so–small.”

“Nghhh, th–thanks, boss,” she cries out, her voice feeling like she’s unable to make sense of what’s going on anymore. It’s just too overwhelming for her. Your cock inside her ass, your hands on her breasts, your smell, your grunts. It’s too much she might have hit the third peak of the day.

Her eyes flutter in bliss—that’s what you see in the mirror. She keens, and you love the way she does it. Her voice reeks of complete submission for you. Her smell is driving you insane. It’s making your grunts more raw, more primal, more animalistic.

You reach out to grab her face. You’re trying not to make it harsh. You don’t want to hurt her. Her moans are interrupted with a gasp. She’s shocked at the sudden contact on her face. She definitely is.

You move in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy, unrefined. There’s no tenderness in it, no romance, no lovey-dovey bullshit. Your hands are still freely groping Kazuha's breasts like they’re yours (they’re yours). Your tongue invades her mouth, gathering her taste. She’s definitely salty—all the sweat and such.

She finally catches the tempo of the kiss, finally holding on her own. Your tongues are now intertwined in a battle for dominance, trying to taste each other as much as possible. The sound of kissing rings inside your head. It’s far from romantic. It’s sloppy. It’s primal. It’s raw.

“Mmmph, fuck,” she utters as you’re still ramming into her ass. Occasional moans into your mouth can be heard. She finds pleasure in it, and you’re happy that she does.

And you pull back. A string of saliva is still connecting your mouths together. It’s vulgar. It’s obscene. That fits. You rest your forehead on Kazuha’s. It feels so intimate. You’re so close to her. You can feel the warmth emanating from her, see her sweat running down, see her pores, and you can only think to yourself: fuck, she really is an angel.

“I’ll get that solo for you, Zuha,” you say, forehead touching hers. Your mouth feels empty without her tongue. It feels great having her inside your mouth.

“B–Better keep th–that promise, boss,” she replies, voice barely holding itself together.  “I’ll fucking join aespa if it’s an empty one.”

You let out a chuckle. She definitely won’t do it, but it’s not like you’re flippant. 

“Sure. It’d be suck to lose another member,” you answer her with a smile. You’re trying to make it as sincere as you can.

You keep pounding into her ass, chasing both of your orgasms. Your hands roam down back to her small, slutty waist. Her breathing grows frantic. You can see the goosebumps on her arms. She’s close. She’s close.

“F–Fuck, a–again, gonna cum again,” she rasps. Her voice is barely holding itself together. Her walls contract around your cock.

Her dam breaks. Her nectar leaks out of her cunt onto the floor. Some of it spills onto your cock, some spill onto your feet. She lets out a primal grunt, spurring you on to fuck her ass with‌ even more roughness. You plow her puckered hole through her orgasm. She’s sensitive, but you don’t fucking care. You couldn’t care any fucking less. You have to cum inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass.

You buck your hips into Kazuha with reckless abandon. Fuck the other women if they’re going to hear this. You’re more than willing to let them know who owns this angel. It’s you. It’s you. Your hands roam over every curve and contour of her body, feeling her smooth skin on your hand. You know it’s hyperbolic, but she’s nothing short of perfection.

Her moans remain guttural and raw. They’re echoing through this practice room, and you’re damn sure that no sounds can be as ethereal as that. Her body, god, her body, you are going to keep dreaming about it forever. Her ass feels utterly divine. She wraps your cock in a way that’s so damn flawless, and it’s like she was made for your cock and your cock only.

You can feel it. The rising current inside you. It runs through your body. It’s electric. It’s going to burst. You’re going to cum inside your employee’s ass, and you couldn’t have found any better situation to be in.

“Here’s what I’m going to do, Zuha,” you order. Your voice couldn’t be stronger than this. Your grips on her waist tighten. “I’m going to fucking cum inside your ass, and you’re going to take it like a good girl you are, alright?”

“Nghhngn, y–yes, boss,” she groans, her voice breaking into pieces. She’s broken already.

It’s there, that familiar feeling inside your loins. You quicken and quicken your pace, pounding into Kazuha’s ass with an unmatched aggression. Your cock is throbbing inside her, so ready to explode. Your breathing is erratic. It’s all culminating in this. You’re going to cum.

“Gonna–Gonna cum,” you grunt, thrusting into her as fast as you can. It’s there. It’s right fucking there.

“Fuck!”

You lose yourself for the second time of the day, this time inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass. You can see stars. White spurts paint the inner walls of her. Your body convulses, shaking in bliss. You grunt loudly. Your cock twitches inside her rear hole. The way she keens rings inside your ear as she feels the cum paint her walls. Fuck.

Your cock keeps shooting ropes and ropes of cum into her ass. It feels utterly divine, the way her ass hugs your cock so damn tightly. You press Kazuha against the wall, trapping her in your embrace, forcing her to take all of your cum. She screams in pure pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you groan, as you slowly come down from the earth-shattering orgasm you just had. Both of you are panting in exhaustion. It was tiring. It was mind-breaking.

You drag your spent cock out of her tight ass. Both of you groan in oversensitivity. Cum slowly leaks out of her ass. You’re all limp, and so is she.

Kazuha still can’t seem to catch her breath. She turns around to face you, face all flushed, mouth hanging open before slowly retreating onto the floor. She’s exhausted, and so are you.

You look down to face her. Your hands are resting on the wall, trying to hold you up with all the forces they have left. Your cock is all sore from the act, and you’re going to need a good sleep after this.

“God,” she utters, smiling. “That was–that was fun, huh?”

“Y–Yeah, that was fun,” you reply with a chuckle. The mood lightens up. The lust earlier is now replaced by comfort. You feel the air thinning. It’s not as tense as before.

You sit down next to Kazuha, head resting on the mirror. The trace of her body can be seen on the wall. It’s imprinted, dirty. You don’t really care. Let the staff see it.

You look around the room, trying to cool down from the debauchery, before Kazuha rests her head on your shoulder. You feel the unfamiliar warmth from her head. It’s–comforting.

“Promise me you’ll get me that solo.” She brings up her pinky finger.

It wasn’t supposed to be much more than a currency. Robotic. Mechanical. Transactional. Though, as you experience through it, you somehow find retreat in it. The act, even if as rough as it was, brings out the side you’ve never seen in her, and something you thought you’d never shown to anyone else. It’s weirdly comforting to you. And maybe, just maybe, the two of you might look forward to another encounter where you fuck her brainless again, and you might learn a few more things about her, and she’d share more of her with you, being each other’s solace against the world.

“I promise.”

—

[anantaru]

4 RULES TO SURVIVE A DIVORCE (GONE WRONG)

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — deciding to end your marriage with neuvillette might've been the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life, although now, navigating through the divorce was becoming even more difficult, especially when you suddenly fail to stick to four simple rules you have both set between each other.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 7.8k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, ex! husband neuvillette, divorced couple goals lmao, fluff & crack, p with plot, lovers to strangers to lovers, size kink/size difference, rough sex, unprotected sex, unresolved tension and lots of bickering, sassy comments from the both of you, it's very much giving married old couple, office sex, cumming inside

RULE NUMBER 1: KEEP YOUR DISTANCE AT ALL TIMES

by the sixth day of waking up to an empty bed— with the left side untouched and consisting of nothing but a feeble scent of vacant perfume, neuvillette has decided that he's had enough.

which wasn't to say that he's had enough of sleep, even though that's certainly a potent route to take, yet the neuvillette the people of fontaine knew was only the one they believed they knew.

in this agonizing moment in time, he wasn't sure on how long he could act out this picture-perfect facade for the sake of his people.

they thought he was brilliant, attractive, chocolate-box pretty.

a radiant, enigmatic dragon that was quite the sight to behold, his smile reminding the flowers of spring-time to blossom to their original beauty— awakening their way of life— ah well, such lovely things to ruminate on, or when they decide to appreciate his delicateness, how uniquely he viewed the world and how otherworldly soft he chose to explore it.

in a true sense, the alluring stories the people of fontaine told each other got one single piece about him right; that neuvillette was very handsome and soft to someone's eyes.

with all ones heart, the man unquestionably had enough of the irrefutable coldness wearing down on his shoulders, sitting there alone in an empty bedroom that was previously essential to his well being, with misery written all over his face and bursting at the seams of his mental health, just enough for him to stop talking all at once.

the cold bedspread was rough against his naked body, the mattress too soft to rest on and giving in beneath his weight. wholly crestfallen did neuvillette realize that sadly, the only way to return to the life he's lived a couple months ago, return to where he should be, was to somehow learn on how to travel back in time and make things right.

which from the bottom of his heart, was impossible.

it was confusing, he has to admit, because the only factor he found somewhat common now was on how empty the bedroom was— besides his own belongings, which weren't a lot in the first place, everything else was taken by you weeks ago, beloved items that were brimful of memories stacked in cold boxes and delivered to your new home.

a predictable event, he knows, and how embarrassingly predictable it had gotten that neuvillette found himself in teething trouble, precisely the issue of his sleep schedule in this bed— one you had bought together, shared together every single day, one you had made love to each other every single night.

a slump of mindless memories waft through his psyche, resembling a wicket current of catastrophes as he ultimately came to the conclusion that the reason he was unable to sleep must be because of you— his serious issues on being unable to rest, it has to be because of you.

neuvillette's thoughts and judgments were all scattered, rummaging through the vortex of problems he had endured through the weeks, a matter much more pressing than all of the other issues put together— he continuously waits and aches, hopes and dreams, and before he notices he's slowly healing, it all comes crashing down on him again.

a recollection long gone relives itself in his mind's eye, and his previous gaze gets overturned by a new, haunting stare.

this is why he had bought the bed in the first place, he remembers it vividly now, it's because you fell in love with it right away, you liked the way it felt underneath your body, heedless of how he personally never really found it comfortable.

concealed from everyone's eyes, neuvillette was deeply saddened, but he hadn't given his mental health much thought yet, because how do you even process that your wife has left you?

how do you tell anybody that you failed as a husband?

and it's raining again? what a hassle, although now he's acquired another way to fault himself on, most importantly hurt himself, because no one deserved the bad weather other than he himself did.

for the first time after gaining the position of the iudex of fontaine, neuvillette did not want to go to work. what if someone begins to ask too many invasive questions when he visits the palais mermonia today?

if that's the immediate case that was going to happen, he begins to think about it more clearly— a person asking about his private life was definitely trespassing his boundaries, right? he could immediately do something about it and put them on trial.

by that logic of his, neuvillette cannot fathom how humiliating it was, his face clouds with a mixture of desperation and disappointment in himself, because he can already imagine the hot off the press headlines on the cover of the steambird;

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

IUDEX OF FONTAINE LEFT STRANDED BY FORMER WIFE! ARE YOU WONDERING WHY WE THINK THIS MARRIAGE WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START? GO FIND OUT IN THE NEW ISSUE OF THE STEAMBIRD. ©this article was written and published by journalist charlotte, do not plagiarize under any circumstances

up to the minute he was able to calm himself down, until imagining the wildfire of emotions an article like that would cause in fontaine.

all the unpleasant hours of arguing with you, even attempting to understand each other without actually coming to a conclusion on how to navigate a situation like that. aside from wanting to keep it all hidden from the outside world, leave it concealed and let the people of fontaine forget about the fact that you two had been married in the first place.

who cares, right? who gives a damn if it's husband or ex husband now? what even was the difference between a wife and an ex wife, you see that it's all the same?

ugh, who was he fooling besides himself.

the whole 'ex-wife' was aggravating him to the point where it made him physically sick.

why can't he just flip a switch and everything goes back to normal like it never happened in the first place. neuvillette wanted his normal life back, the normal life he thought you both loved and would continue to live on until your dying days.

in the end, neuvillette saw no other route around it other than to quit using it all together, maybe stop talking about you entirely.

by all means, it's not like he will talk to anybody about the divorce, maybe besides you when he has to mention it. granted that he might not talk to you about it either, because he wasn't allowed to see you right now, neither were you allowed to see him.

on how it came to that point was genuinely understandable.

after the divorce was finalized, new adjustments had to be made regarding your previous living situations, shared income and the future possibility of seeing each other.

as was anticipated, before he was able to say anything or make suggestions, you had already started to list out a couple of "important rules" that you made up, you called them rules but in the iudex mind he called them pesky little regulations.

regardless of his distaste for them, he wrote them down on a piece of paper as to not aggravate you.

well, he found it a bit bizarre, but neuvillette thought it must be a serious requirement at this point. it was his first divorce so how was he supposed to know how to navigate through one? it wasn't supposed to be easy, that's what he knew, it's very heart breaking and draining his life force.

although funnily enough, his overwhelm strengthens after you waltzed over the fourth rule of the day. that's one rule too much in his opinion.

just how many were there?

"i can't think of a better solution," you state whilst leaning your body against his desk, always facing the ground, you wouldn't want to lock gazes with him during such difficult time.

"we may even be able to talk again in the future, you know,"

but did you really want to?

it's safe to say that neuvillette would want to keep in contact, but it's certain that this would not only stress you both out in the long run, possible new partners could also get weirded out by the fact that you two were still talking and they may become jealous.

neuvillette stifles a groan, scribbling down the second rule that left your mouth before absorbing the letters on the piece of paper, "it's for the best if we keep a distance,"

to say like that was a punch in the gut would be an understatement, despite the fact that you proposed the idea in the first place.

alas and without any of you knowing before setting out those four simple rules, now— weeks after, you had found yourself in a position that made it near impossible to keep a distance from each other, or at least make eye contact in a social gathering.

for you, it has become your life in a literal sense to comb through this difficulty, for neuvillette, the possibility of seeing you in the future would secure his sanity and keep him from turning as mad as a hatter.

patience. the incurable truth was patience.

this afternoon, you have to talk for at least five minutes, with a window consisting of a maximum of ten minutes if one of you talked slowly— it's not like you want to see him, but you have to visit your ex husbands office to sign a paper regarding your previously shared finances and then you're good to go for the day again, you can leisurely exit his office and leave this failed relationship behind, exactly where it belonged in the first place, deeply stored in the past.

previously during the negotiations, neuvillette was quite persistent in leaving you the house which was located a little outside of fontaine. he was in no need of it anymore and wanted you to have it, without payments required.

between us two, it's quite obvious he wanted to get rid of it.

but so did you.

you didn't want to stay there, not now, not ever, you wouldn't sign that damned paper even if the god of contracts suddenly came knocking on your door and force you to.

all the memories in that house would eventually eat you up, they'd definitely destroy you, the gnawing grief would certainly keep you awake at night.

originally after telling your ex husband that you didn't want the house, he was able to find you a flat in the city— it's small but cute, and it had everything you needed. a cozy bedroom, a kitchen that was big enough to dance in while you're preparing dinner and an area where you can set up an office for yourself.

how convenient it was that you were previously married to the person that is in charge of fontaine.

aside from that and the fact that you were practically making neuvillette handle the most difficult parts of this— you realize how a sudden guilt was stored on your shoulders, you could barely face him after that.

the parts he needed to handle included, but were not limited to,  well, a problem slightly more irritating since it was about his life, turning approximately a hundred other problems he deals with on a daily a whole lot easier.

most of the legal process was handled by him, and only him for that matter, meaning that he had to spend additional hours on it and was barely able to move on with his life after losing you.

unlike you did.

well frankly, it's only been a couple of weeks, a month at best since you've last seen him— although it has been much longer since you've last felt him.

there really wasn't a lot going on in your life after breaking things off, it's always a grueling whirlwind of;

waking up, heading to work, walking home, eating, sleeping, repeat.

most significantly, your new bed felt a bit hard as well, it's uncomfortable and drove you insane.

you missed the one you had previously shared with neuvillette— wether it was because of the way it felt underneath you or because of its much better quality.

perhaps it was also that in the past, you had the chance of leaning against a warm body whenever you were freezing— the secret on why you found your new bed worse in comparison to your old one would certainly remain a secret forever.

it can never be answered, because you do not even know the answer yourself.

it's frequent and happens all the time— when you suddenly begin to wonder late in the evening if this was the right decision after all.

then again, a divorce wasn't necessarily something you would just forget from one day to the other— aside from that, there was a reason it happened, considering the countless events of arguing and the inability of you both to find a solid middle ground.

when you notice that a relationship drains the life out of you, or makes you cry your heart out late at night, a decision has to be made eventually, especially before it would turn your love into resentment or make your respect for the other person dwindle away.

was it really that surprising that you had your doubts?

when it comes down to it, neuvillette wasn't a bad man and you would never speak poorly of him. he was everything else but bad, which reminds you of the reason you had fallen in love with him.

but in earlier days, he had a reflection less of the way he was than of the way he wanted you to see him.

it was challenging for neuvillette to open up to you.

but hell, you're certain you won't be able to find someone who'd ever make you as happy as he did, bring you sweet tummy aches when he makes you laugh all night, or be there for you when you're sick and unable to take care of yourself.

you shake your head in embarrassment, your cheeks aflame as you're drawing several deep, steadying breaths— perhaps that's just how you're supposed to think right now.

it's not real, it cannot be.

right now, you feel like you should've never broken it off, but this marriage had been on death's door for months before the decision was finally formed— albeit from afar, no one had ever suspected anything and you're quite proud of that, in fact, both of you made sure no one would notice too much of what had been going on behind closed doors— like good spouses should always protect each other.

among other things, taking into consideration just how important his work and image was, the last outcome you wanted was for your ex husband to endure dreadful gossips about him.

neuvillette did not deserve a single negative word against him, this man deserved nothing but the finest life for himself— furthermore, after spending yet another night without sleep and thinking about your ex husband, you believed that the best for him just wasn't you.

it never has been.

RULE NUMBER 2: NEVER SHOW UP TO EACH OTHERS HOME OR WORK, NOT EVEN ON EMERGENCIES, ESPECIALLY NOT IF YOU MISS EACH OTHER

it's a little clumsy when you first enter his office, accompanied by an unnerving type of awkwardness outstretching across the room as neuvillette meets your eyes right away— but his head drops after around two seconds and he puffs out a wretched sigh, sounding as if he's about to cry.

neuvillette thought that this should've been way easier— but before you, he has never felt real love like yours before, and he was quite certain that this type of love only happens once in life.

the melusines were also happy to see you, and you could tell that they were equally as confused as you were— they probably did not realize what was going on and nor did you really want them to know.

given that their love and admiration for neuvillette was bottomless and you wouldn't want them to suddenly harbor a disdain for you.

nevertheless, when you listened to what they were whispering about behind your back, they were talking about how you must've been away for travel or desperately needed a vacation from fontaine, or one even mentioned that you might've been sick— considering how dead and empty your eyes looked those past weeks.

then there's the "being busy with work". ah well, the excuses were surely endless and somewhat amusing, you know you're not taking care of yourself when every second a melusine talks about how tired you looked and if you needed a glass of water.

everything but a divorce was being spoken about, at least you managed to hide that well.

your gaze lifts to meet his own again when neuvillette stands up from his desk and looks at you from the opposite side of the table.

under further examination of your facial expression, he notices the slight discomfort that buzzes underneath your skin, especially around your eyes and how you could barely look at him for more than five seconds.

beneath the familiar emotion of being in the same room as him, the sharp bite of his aftershave slips down the back of your throat when you suck in a sharp, choked breath, tensing like a tree at each step forward.

why do you look like you haven't slept for days?

it cannot be, right? but he was paying attention to certain details, either relevant or not he notices how you're looking around without focus, or shift the weight of your body from left foot to right foot.

and well, his supernatural senses were sharp, immediately picking up on your heart pounding against your ribs as if trying to fulfill a thousand beats.

his fingers twitch slightly with the document in his hand as he remains in his position, waiting for you to come closer.

"this couch doesn't seem very comfortable for sleep," you point to the sofa in his office, in an attempt to break the awkward tension, your chin forwarding to the left where a neatly put blanket and a small pillow sat on top of the furniture.

just how many nights has he spent here? did he even sleep in the first place? was he taking care of himself and should you worry?

it's safe to say that his work shouldn't be in danger, but it really is killing you that you cannot ask without coming across like a desperate ex, and you're fully aware that it would also go against your rules.

but neuvillette has always taken his important occupation very serious, sometimes even to the point where he forgot about his own marriage and his wife waiting for him at home with freshly made dinner served and his most favorite beverage awaiting him on a beautifully set up table and— yikes, that escalated quickly.

you're beginning to remember one of the reasons as to why this marriage failed.

"i hope you do not mind if i ask," neuvillette stifles a groan, "but are you mentioning this out of curiosity or are you speaking down on my new sleeping area?" the hint of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, the underlying scorn making you wince.

and oh, "sleeping area" was a big statement for that little excuse of a couch, you're very much aware that he can barely fit all of him on it and always had troubles finding a comfortable spot when he fucked— uh, well, when you did things to each other there.

yes, you already know how it felt on there, and who could possibly know of the plentiful times you had been intimate with each other on that couch.

wait a minute, was that the reason? was he already having a rebound this soon after your divorce?

no, it cannot be.

not your neuvillette, hold on, scrap that and reverse, he wasn't your neuvillette anymore.

it's stinging and like pins and needles on your heart when you think about neuvillette fucking someone on the exact same place he made love to you— leading to the conclusion that simply looking at the couch made you sick to your stomach, instantly setting off another unpleasant lurch of nausea yet you could still muster enough strength to fix yourself for the sake of this conversation.

he wouldn't dare, okay, this is the last time you're discussing this with yourself;

what if he wanted you to see this, tell you that:

hey, look at me! i am so happy without you stupid witch, and i already have a new partner too, isn't that nice for me? there really is no need for you to be worried about me, so please sign this document and exit my office.

because i am getting my dick sucked every single day!

your heart beat turns feverish in your chest, and you quickly snap your head towards the direction of your ex husband, "isn't it obvious that i was just trying to make conversation with you?" you retort back, swatting away the dust lingering on your clothes while simultaneously coughing out in an awkward manner.

"although i really cannot imagine that this couch is somewhat comfortable to sleep on."

"i believe you must still remember on how it felt laying there yourself,"

yikes, what a great comeback from him, and he didn't mean to say it like he's spitting venom into your mouth, it's almost like he wanted to tell you that it's your loss you cannot make yourself comfortable on here, even though he wouldn't mind bending you on all fours again like he did last— okay, that's enough.

there was a half-visible smirk on his face that aggravated you, the absolute last expression you were expecting to see from him.

you roll your eyes, "trust me, i don't want to," you reply, pinching your eyebrows together while assessing your distaste of his answer.

just when did an innocent question about a dusty, old couch turn into— whatever that conversation was about.

RULE NUMBER 3: DO NOT ASK INTIMATE QUESTIONS ABOUT EACH OTHERS PRIVATE LIFE

no, stop it, that doesn't seem right, neuvillette shouldn't treat you this way.

right now, he was experiencing his worst nightmare and the previous gears of sadness grind to a halt upon perceiving another emotion— one, that certainly scared him.

whatever the case, he wouldn't repeat his mistake, accepting any destiny the universe would bestow on him as he silently promises himself to stop any anger from slipping past the tip of his tongue.

pressing your lips together, you dig your heels into the ground, "okay, forget it, i don't have a lot of time," an unexpected force of confidence pushes you forward until you could feel the wooden desk graze across your thighs, you're so close now and the only thing keeping your bodies apart was the desk in between.

your mind was repeatedly screaming at your frame to stop moving before you actually did, "i have to be somewhere in, uh, about a couple hours, so lets finish this quickly."

what a sweet and pretty liar that you were, terribly aware that the only thing waiting for you tonight was your bed.

what a sad image, but he must not know!

"oh?" neuvillette mutters bitterly, a nervous rasp roughening his voice.

"a date, i assume?"

you would have gasped if you had any breath to spare, because you did not think this would actually work in a million years.

"ah, ah, ah," you note in a triumphant colored tone, happily waving your pointer finger from left to right.

"this, dear iudex, goes against rule number three."

content, neuvillette resumes to the document in his hand before placing it in the middle of the desk, sucking in a short, harsh breath, eyes deepening down south, just any area that wasn't you,

"of course, my apologies,"  his tone was thick, sickly sweet with barely cloaked amusement.

now he knows you're lying— he knows you so well it's almost embarrassing.

"this, is why you came for, right?"

you fumble a blistering retort that died with the hard press of teeth against your tongue, "mhm," you murmur in a low, rich tone, his casual unbothered spirit was dangerously convincing.

oh well, he must have gotten it right— and ah, you were remarkably stubborn too, resisting even the most innocent type of help coming from him as you take a random pen laying across the other side of the desk instead of the one in neuvillette's hand.

your eyes slowly scatter over the document, your brain struggling to put together the authoritative choice of words displayed in front of you.

"please elaborate on that," you press a finger on a significantly befuddling paragraph.

neuvillette muses agreeably before slanting against the desk to see for himself— and when he did you got a real good taste of his perfume suddenly invading your nostrils, playing devils advocate when you flinch back a little.

"do not worry yourself about this," his answer came so quickly you barely caught it, spelled out without a flutter of hesitation.

"everything is accounted for," he adds gently, you only need to put your name, there,"

your once-vulnerable eyes now squint stormily, "that smart mouth of yours surely has been busy, i can tell," as you place the pen on the desk before dropping both arms to your side— the man before you narrowed speechless, burning his eyes through your smug face.

"oh, just how many tricks did you pick up on your way here?" he replies sternly, accentuating the "here" as to remind you on where you currently were— as if that would somehow make him look threatening, you have been in his office plenty of times before, both naked and fully clothed, so neuvillette surely must search for another way to dominate this conversation.

priding himself in front of you with his position as iudex certainly wouldn't work on his ex wife.

"why?" you retort, "you like it?"

"indeed i do, or is that what you want me say, i assume?"

"no," a soft sigh above you echoes your own, "but i do find it weird that you'd want me to sign something without explaining it to me,"

"i did explain it to you multiple times, in fact, last time we saw each other i even asked you if you understood what i was referring to,"

an instinctive flutter of frustration, anger and exhaustion slips down his throat, "and if i recollect my memories," he coughs out and walks around his desk, so that nothing was in between you anymore.

"—you have said your time was limited." the radiating dominance of his body momentarily presses your back against the table, trapping you in the middle, caging between a wooden desk and your ex lover.

"that was weeks ago," you pause, "it's normal for most people to want a quick run through on a document of this importance,"

"it's normal?"

"it's normal," you reaffirm.

"how interesting indeed. i will keep that in mind," 

you lean your weight against the desk as to keep the eye contact with him in an attempt to stand your round, and the two of you have since lost the original purpose of this meeting.

"how could you possibly forget that?"

your voices flap over in an unmusical tune when neuvillette attempts to reply to you, although your tone was far louder than his. 

there was an awkward moment of silence that was practically slicing the air within your bodies and it's unusual on just how strong the tension had gotten in a span of two minutes. not to mention that he was so close— you honestly preferred it when his desk was keeping you both apart.

it was hard to remember anything and keep a rational mind, neuvillette realized that and found himself deeply saddened on how quick this meeting went out of hand and turned to this.

but a whispered sentence reaches your hearing and immediately calms you into a warm, relaxing state, "i apologise," he speaks finally and it surprises you, a nervous rasp shaking his voice,

"i shouldn't have talked to you in such disrespectful manner,"

your eyes widen, "no," and your cheeks grow hot with deep embarrassment, "it's really my fault, i need to apologize to you," as you force out a shaky laugh in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

"don't," neuvillette retorts back, contemplating wether he should or not but lastly deciding to rest a hand over your shoulder before he squeezes it, a smile manifesting on his lips— and it was otherworldly radiant, illuminating his complete face with deep warmth and joy.

"i always loved that witty side of yours."

he doesn't say anything for a moment, in fact, neither of you do— and the feeling of him touching you again after weeks of spending apart from each other, and despite it being just his palm on your shoulder, was instantly turning your knees into jelly.

the minute of silence felt like twenty years as neuvillette straightens his body upright, drawing a more serious touch along your shoulder before moving his palm from your collarbone until curving his hand along your cheek, holding your gaze through bright, gemstone-like eyes.

he must be crazy, he thinks— because right now, he's going against everything he has promised himself not to do, and everything you have told him not to do as well. but fuck, he hasn't touched you like this in so long, the last time was long before your divorce, and the helpless intensity of his desire horrified him.

it's when neuvillette suddenly realizes that he has never stopped loving you— not even for a minute, nor a searing second.

it was impossible to stop loving you.

"it's just that i…" your voice grows softer and quieter the more you attempt to speak and your heart thuds feverishly in your chest that you're pretty much aware he must notice it too, "everything feels terrible," you admit hesitantly and flutter your eyes up at him, your gaze fanning over the soft pink across his facial features. 

neuvillette begins to move his thumb across your cheek, "please forgive me for failing us," he whispers weakly, on the brink of tears, "for failing the only thing that made life worth living," his throat adds a slightly hoarse perception to his tone.

your eyes widen as you attempt to drop your head if not for neuvillette holding your cheek in his palm as a whirlwind of crystallines well up in your eyes, sousing your lashes.

your mind was gone, but suddenly you can think more clear— and you're not depending on the damaging daze that was originally controlling your body's autopilot feature— the grueling circle of work, sleep, repeat.

you sniffle between words, "no!" and helplessly slant into his chest as to bury your face in the fabric of his garments, "it's my fault, not yours!" continuing to cry and wail and sob your heart out.

"please don't hate me! don't resent me!"

being able to finally let go of all those stored emotions in your heart felt utterly freeing, as if an unbearable weight was lifted off your chest.

how did you two even end up in this situation? can someone, just anyone, make this agony for the both of you stop?

neuvillette shushes your cries with a soft shhh, folding his arms around your waist before smoothing one hand across your back. he decides to rest his head on top of yours, his warm breath fanning against your hair as you return his hug, pulling him deeper into you.

"i could never hate you," neuvillette sighs, "it's because i have never stopped loving you," before putting on weight around his embrace on you— perhaps as to prepare himself, because he was sure you were about to smack him due to what he just bluntly admitted to you.

while he knows it was certainly deserved as well, no excuse would make this proclamation easier even in the slightest.

but he doesn't regret it, it's over now. he just wanted to get this off his chest even if you'd most likely break off any remaining contact to him— although now he realizes that you've given him so much and he won't let you go again, not before repeatedly telling you that he loves you, loves you, loves you.

despite him believing that his efforts went to waste.

to his surprise, you did not hit him, nor did you yell at him or ask if he's hit his head somewhere— instead, you slowly move yourself from his chest, a saddened gaze meeting his own as a single tear falls from your eye.

your answer dwells a moment before you push it out, "i love you too," and whisper, "i love you so much," before you're peering at him with an expression he couldn't begin to decipher— for what's obvious, it's pure and selfless, a startled hum immediately following the last syllable that leaves your mouth when neuvillette suddenly slants his head forward to feel your lips.

RULE NUMBER 4: DO NOT FUCK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, PLEASE JUST DON'T DO IT, SNAP OUT OF IT, DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SEX WHILE BEING IN THE SAME ROOM TOGETHER

by all means, this wasn't supposed to happen— hell, you don't even know how you got here.

but his eyes were enticing as they meet your gaze, a deep source of exuberance affecting your delirium and when he leans into you to kiss your lips, his soft lashes clash against your skin, his traces subtle enough to make you feel a faint tingle shiver downwards your heat.

against all odds, neuvillette was terrible at making this any easier for the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to pull away after the third, fourth or fifth kiss, there was no way of ending this and his tongue made sure to clash against yours at each lap— this passion, it had no resistance, it will always find a way to flourish.

nothing more, nothing less, and you've got the iudex right under a fucking spell because even when his life felt depressing after you left him, when he was living through all those weeks and tried to navigate through this divorce— now, his heart had suddenly begun to beat again, although neuvillette knew that this would go against the fourth, and most important rule you had set up.

but he cannot stop.

blood racing, nerves alight, he pushes you against the desk and helps you to get on top of it.

you wanted him to pleasure you, needed him to use his hands and devour those pretty lips of yours— whine as his mouth carvs in a smirk, so excited and sooth as silk when you wrap your arms around his neck to push his frame against your chest, so he could easily rest his entire weight on top of your own.

"you're gorgeous," he coos, "so utterly breathtaking," the thought of you craving his attention to that level was flooding him with pride, it made his skin crawl with a thousand thunderous vibrations that hit the bulge in his pants, your wet kisses and hot traces fueling the withdrawals of your soul on his skin.

the dizziest groan touches your glossed lips— and neuvillette flips over your skirt to expose your drenched panties to his hungry stare, his eyes instantly hard with lust and love, every measure of his yearning openly shown as his cock twitches uncomfortably in his clinging pants. 

you moan a dreamy sigh when the freezing office air hits your most sensitive parts, the tone leaving your lips high-pitched and desperate to feel more of him. in response, you earn a rough groan from neuvillette as he discards of his belt, dopamine shaking his soul alive, manifesting ruthlessly and tempting as you hug him tight, your erected nipples crushing against his strong chest.

you kiss along his neck with tenderness and feel the intense force of redness on his flustered cheeks, your tongue swift to blend over the quivering skin as you lash fiercely at the outline of his jaw between sharp flares of teeth tickling his face— his bewitching expression being held captive by your hand gripping his jaw hard enough to pull him towards you.

unwinding with relief, neuvillette manages to pull his tight slacks off, sighing as he drew out his hard cock and aching balls— instantly taking himself in his palm before fisting it slow in front of your hole. a thrum of arousal around the slit of his tip intensifies his need to crowd you with his shaft, and he gracefully strokes himself until you wrap your fingers around his wrist as to stop him for a second.

"i want you to make love to me," you mumble impatiently, "it's been so long," and neuvillette follows your lead in a flash and a quick nod of his head, making sure that you're sitting all comfortable on the desk and that you wouldn't hurt yourself with a random utensil on the table before he urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs squeezing his hips close.

"everything you say, i do," neuvillette reassures you, "forever,"

your broken moans and bulging eyes excite him, not to mention when you refuse to let go of him. of course, who knows what will happen after desire subsides and you're both thinking rationally again, after all, you do trust him with your life, but you're still divorced and sure you would look stunning on your second wedding with him, he would very much prefer to marry you right after fucking the broad daylight out of your figure.

gently clutching at your clothes, neuvillette slowly lifts up the fabric until you're wholly exposed for him to feast on, at last working your panties down your legs as they hit the ground, a coy smile spreading across his lips— your naked body was prancing in front of him, reminding him on how gorgeous you were, especially now as your lips hang apart and your lewd whines spill from the tip of your tongue.

your pretty nipples were erected as well, laying a familiar caress up his spine when you grind your chest against his chiseled one, encircling the exposed skin until it comes to meet in front.

"just look at you," he mutters proudly, almost to himself, his cheeks flushed as he ducks his head to hide the beginnings of a pleased smile when he kisses your shoulder. the praises set your blood raising, pumping a hotness into your pussy as you moan out his name in sweet tandem, feeling the slight trace of his cock-head shadowing your hole.

you will do so well tonight, neuvillette thinks to himself, and before he helps you keep your legs parted, he teases your entrance with a half-hearted push of his cock. you want him closer and carry on to search for his entire weight on top of you as his dripping dick slides past the tight edges of your hole, your pussy throbbing as it began to hurt a little— just a bit, and it's important to note that you weren't used to this anymore, used to him, and it's because all the pheromones are currently leaving your body that it was worth having a slight pain come by.

because you knew neuvillette will do anything in his power to make it hurt as little as possible— so you could enjoy his erection painting your walls white as you moan avidly, your pussy rubbing deliciously on him, his hand continuously massaging the delicious, soft skin of your thighs and ass.

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief when he snakes himself half-way in, a gentle breeze of your whimpers scatter across the room as neuvillette continues to push inch after inch of himself into you, your body relaxing underneath his much bigger one as you welcome him, beautiful moans and whimpers spilling from the back of your throat.

oh, how much you missed sucking in his cock like your life depended on it— and whatever issues would arise after this sinful encounter, neither of you was giving an inch of mind to those future concerns.

"there you go, that's what you need," neuvillette grunts, tensing his jaw and limiting his breathing because fuck, how are you still so fucking tight— in any other case, he would never skip foreplay with you, knowing that his size tends to be too big for your pussy, sometimes offering you help in spreading your puffy cunt apart— but he is aware that you're extra wet today, he notices how much easier it was to slide himself through your walls and collect your slick.

a slightest raw edge of desperation made his groan sound almost like a plea when your pussy clamps down on his shaft, and neuvillette moans softly as he bows down to trap your lips against his own, sliding down his tongue and lapping at yours, wet and slow, wet and slow, a low hiss of pleasure accentuating his skilled ministrations.

your pussy squeezes him gently and wets him thoroughly so that his flushed cock glistens in your walls as neuvillette allows himself to nuzzle his face against your neck, humming appreciatively when he began to move his hips, drinking in the light tears that swell in the corners of your eyes as he kisses them away.

everything was so filthy, just like that, and you're back to square one again— it's lewd enough to make his cock throb heavily between your legs when he picks up on his shallow tempo, warm and viscous grinds of his thick cock pounding you in two, wild and passionate burning through your sore hole and matching the rhythm of your hips that were catching his shoves halfway.

fuck, you missed his cock filling you up, shaking at the added stimulation when one hand squeezes your tits— not to mention how heavy it felt to have him deep in your guts again, his slicked erection pawing through your walls and searching for your pleasure spots, until you're practically writhing of overstimulation, most importantly releasing the stress you endured those past weeks.

somehow, everything felt more intense tonight— ecstatic and as if you're drugged of his cock, like you broke off the connection from clear reality each moment his tip inches down the searing spots in your cunt— your screams muffled by his strong shoulder which resulted in your noises coming out in weak cries and sobs.

"i'm— i'm so close." it's the way you said it, the way you wanted him to hear you.

neuvillette glances down on you, "yeah?" he cannot hold back anymore, your walls were too hot and too tight, his thudding erection cornering your bruised pussy as his cheeks turn cherry red— the tip of his ears shading the same color, "will never let you go again..." the following sentence comes from under his breath, a strong utterance, holding graven significance as it ignites flames deep within the pits of your core.

it's so unbelievably sexy when you tell him that he's about to make you cum, and the repeated proclamations of love were aiding your orgasm in unraveling much more intense— neuvillette parts his lips before pinching your nipples in between his digits, never faltering nor losing the steady streams of thrusts on your sex, paying no mind to your minor struggle of keeping his thick member within your sloppy hole.

the moans you sob are bringing him such satisfaction as well, particularly the ones of his name made him swallow down the assembling saliva in his mouth, leaving small kisses against your face as his adams apple bobs harshly against his throat when he grinds his hips into your heat— your slick seeping out at the corners of your hole as your beautiful legs hover over his waist to get into that ideal position.

he cups your pretty face without stopping the shallow tempo on your cunt, "i.. want you to look at me," his rhythm becoming blistering and rapid— it almost pains him to hold himself back, or the desire to cum but wanting to make you climax first. it's like his shaft runs through satin, pressing back and forth the finest silk but it's your pussy instead, so soft and taking his shape, you're made for him and he'll never let you forget.

even though he could hardly breathe because of how achingly hard he was, caged within the tight embrace of your walls as tears spring to his eyes, slip down his flaming cheeks, being wild and free and finally one with you again— in addition to the exciting sounds of wet noises of skin clashing on skin providing the last bonus puzzle pieces to make you spiral out of complete control.

a static crushes as if underwater in your ears— and neuvillette rolls his hips fast and hard, purring deeply when your legs wrap and urge him to penetrate you further. the pleasure buried in you was coiling from the base of your spine and found the candid bubble in your belly before snapping into a million pieces— your gorgeous noises finding his ears as he fucks you faster, yanking his head back and clenching his jaw as you came apart together, moaning into each others mouths and welcoming your orgasm with melting, soothing moans.

you shake your head and bury yourself into his warm embrace, earning you a smile you cannot even see when your thighs shake around his waist as he continues to pump his seed into you, the warm covers of milky whites prolonging your orgasm and intensifying it to a tenfold.

just in time too, his hot gift soothes the soreness on your walls as neuvillette deafens your body with a post-orgasm sensitivity that catches you in a trance, his cock still buried inside and never leaving your tight hole as you work to somehow get a hold of your breath again, letting you ease the stress he senses from you.

the stone-hard desk underneath you was bruising and uncomfortable, but it's bearable when you nuzzle yourself into your ex lover, or, well— current lover? soon to be fiance again?

"do not worry your pretty head," his hand lovingly brushes over your head as you fuse into his trace, "i will take care of everything," as he's allowing you to indulge in the intimate atmosphere you have missed so dearly, "i could marry you right this second, wherever you want," and with that sort of enthusiasm, you hold in every passing word with love, knowing that whatever the case— neuvillette and you will figure out a way, but you'll do it together, as a team.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lovlidollie]

i would lovelovelove to hear more about crybaby!reader n rafe’s relationship. like how does he calm her down? music? kisses? food?

as for dollie, does he indulge in her girly lil actions sometimes? letting her put makeup on him/letting her put glitter on him, letting her paint his nails, baking w her?

love this so much nonnie, pls let me know if you meant something else !!! cw; ddlg themes for crybaby!reader ^_^

for crybaby, i think the easiest way to calm her down is through words + physical touch. rafe’s aim is to try and get her into subspace mainly so that she doesn’t have to deal with big girl feelings for a while. he knows her tells; she shrinks into herself, her eyes glaze over and aimlessly float around the place. she can’t stop her fingers from gravitating towards her puffy lips, imperceptible whines leaving her when she realises they’re not rafe’s.

he keeps his touch gentle, hands soft against her waist and jaw, and he makes sure to keep eye contact. “does m’girl wanna come out, hm? dad’s lil’ girl? y’know he’ll take care of you. doin’ sooo well f’him aren’t y’baby, yeahhh that’s right! attagirl, there she is.” if the situation allows it, he’s pulling her into his lap, hands under her armpits to pick her up just like a baby. he’d place kisses along her hairline, rubbing her back ever so carefully, like she’s this close to breaking. when her chin start to tremble and her eyes water, rafe coos out, “need ‘em? need daddy’s fingers? gotta tell him, baby, how’s he s’posed t’know otherwise, huh?” she’s nodding furiously, tears sloping down her heated cheeks. she’s trying to be good and patient, trying to wait for her dad to give her what she needs. “open up,” he soothes, thick thumb trailing itself over the flesh of her bottom lip, into the warmth of her mouth. she sinks into his lap, eyes rolling back and tongue wrapping around him immediately. crybaby whimpers, drool sliding down his hand like water. she doesn’t even notice how she’s humping his leg, rubbing so deliciously against rafe’s cock. “shhh— shh ‘s’okay, sweetheart, y’doin’ soooo good. dad’s got’ya.”

— putting her in timeout also works suspiciously well … but that’s smth for another day …

with dollie, i think he scowls n scoffs every time she brings up doing his makeup; he’s got a very toxic sense of masculinity (learned behaviour from ward me thinks). he’s absolutely sick of finding glitter in every single part of the house and he tries to calmly tell her to maybe “tone it down.” her crestfallen face and disappointed pout were enough for him to take back his words though, so now he just deals with top or kelce pointing out the random sparkles on his shirts. i don’t think he’d let her paint his nails outside of just like a manicure and clear top coat, BUT he will paint hers. mainly because wheezie made him do it a lot when she was growing up, so now he’s got abnormally good skills. he’d definitely be the type to seek out the little initial that dollie gets on her ring finger, and if it’s not there he’s forcing her to take a seat so he can put it there himself. another thing he does, is if he sees something that even remotely looks like a makeup product she’d be into, he’s purchasing it immediately. for example, a glittery eyeshadow palette with only shades of pink? the store’s lucky he didn’t buy them out completely.

he does bake with her !! they have little baking dates in their pajamas where they decide on what they wanna make, and then rafe does all the measuring whilst dollie does the mixing. they have some music playing in the background, sometimes a nostalgic movie, and dollie just rambles about her day n what she got up to :3 it’s just so soft and domesticated and UGH. other times dollie doesn’t let him do anything, especially if he’s just come back from work. she makes rafe sit at the island and watch as she twirls around the kitchen creating something from nothing, just for him.

— if she’s been begging for months on end about doing his makeup, rafe would maybe, maybe indulge her on her birthday. just on the one demand that no glitter is involved whatsoever.

[littlediscoveredstars]

I have a fanfic idea that I haven’t really committed to writing, so you can have it here.

Idea: Batman and Superman decide to finally put the bro-mance to rest and go on a proper date. The thing is, they both plan to reveal their identities at the restaurant.

Bruce focuses so hard on looking like Bruce Wayne, but also more himself that he does at galas. He’s wearing a turtleneck and his comfy work shoes. His hair is less organized and he lets himself slouch.

Clark isn’t sure whether to slick back his hair like Superman but keep the glasses or keep everything Clark Kent but leave the glasses home. He decides to just wing it and go as much like himself as he can: jeans, boots, and glasses. After all, he’s a Kansas farm boy under every layer of identity he’s created.

So, then comes the day for them to meet. They expect to see each other, be a little surprised, then go about their date as normal.

It turned out…not like that.

With neither knowing what name the table was reserved under, they both assume they’ve arrived first and watch every man that fits their date’s general build pass them by.

Clark sees Bruce Wayne and thinks, “Wow! What are the odds Bruce Wayne happens to be at the same restaurant? Funny.” Then he sits down at a booth and waits for Batman.

Bruce, to his credit, watches Clark pass by with suspicions. The guy looks kind of like Superman but those curls are so dense and he honestly cannot imagine Big Blue dressed like a cowboy, so he waves it, especially when the man doesn’t stop to confront him. He just stares the way everyone else has after seeing a celebrity out in public and moves on.

An hour passes. Then two. Both are sitting a few tables apart, looking around desperately for their hero coworker to show.

Bruce gets impatient first. He understand Superman has a lot on his plate and a single free night is a lot to ask. Maybe they’ll try again. Or they won’t, since Bruce has convinced himself this was stupid to begin with.

It’s as he’s preparing to go that he sees that cowboy again. The gorgeous man is looking down, crestfallen at also being stood up.

So, Bruce does something a little spontaneous. Bruce sits in front of the guy. He blames it on the glasses of wine he had while waiting.

Bruce: “I’m Bruce. May I be blunt?”

Clark, blinking in surprise: “uh, sure?”

Bruce: “I watched you walk in over an hour ago and no one has accompanied you. Seeing as my date did the same, I’d like to fill the space.”

Clark, again, surprised he’s even being talked to by a billionaire outside of his job: “Y-yes? Yes! I mean, sure! By all means!”

It’s not like Batman’s going to come crashing in from the window. Well, he could, but Clark’s been listening to the city around them. No sign of Batman’s grapple.

So, Bruce and Clark meet. They fall into conversation easily, even make each other laugh. It’s so effortless and slightly suspicious, but they’re having a fun time and Bruce isn’t self-sabotaging enough to break away now. Not when he’s needed this for a while.

Then, at the end of the date, Clark listens for Batman’s heartbeat. He tries to hear where his friend might be, to understand why he didn’t show, but the heartbeat is standing right in front of him. There, in Bruce Wayne’s chest.

And/or, Clark removed his glasses to clean them and it clicks in Bruce’s mind. He reaches out to smooth all of Clark’s hair back and a single, rebellious curl pops out.

They’re both so furious, Clark has to fly them to the roof to properly shout about it.

[bunsiesblog]

How To Care for Your Stray Hero

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Japan's #1 hero finds himself on your fire escape, again, needing some TLC from his favorite girl.

tags: vigilante!deku, aged up midoriya, romance, domestic fluff, smut, finger sucking, dry humping, clothed sex, lap sex, praise kink, two emotionally constipated idiots in love

5.7k words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A slight rattle could be heard as he landed on your fire escape. You wasted no time padding over to the window, pulling your curtains aside to reveal your hero.

Your tired hero.

The vigilante hunched over, breathing slow and heavy. His costume was tattered and torn. Even more so than when he last saw you. It was caked with dirt. Possibly blood? His own, you couldn't be entirely sure. Darkness hid his eyes. The mask he wore gave a metallic ring to his breath.

Midoriya looked downright terrifying.

You pushed your window open, leaning through the frame to get a better look. The hero didn't move away from you. Not even when you reached out to him. Or when you gently pushed back his hood.

His verdant curls are what you see first—soft waves and ringlets draped over his forehead. Then his eyes.

Oh, those eyes.

Dark circles had been painted under them, exhaustion rooted deep into the orbs. Midoriya appeared to struggle to meet your gaze. Almost shamefully, he settles to stare at the floor. Your hand pauses for a moment—but only a moment—before you gently cup his cheek and guide his head upward.

No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. He worked so hard to push everyone away. He knew the dangers and risks of coming here to be with you—even if it's for a single night. Midoriya couldn't help but be selfish.

You were his little secret and his alone.

He tried not to take advantage of your kindness. Every visit, the time between when he would see you again just got longer. Some form of self-punishment. You knew he was a stubborn man. He knew it, too. You pushed him just enough without making him feel guilty, though.

The warm light of your apartment surrounded you. It practically begged the worn vigilante to come in. You looked like an angel, a goddess showing kindness to a weak and tired man. The pilgrimage to see you was wrought with pain, villains, and isolation—a path he had no regrets walking down.

"Come inside." You say softly.

His chest flutters at the sound of your voice. Your hand moves from his cheek down to the yellow scarf wrapped around him. With a gentle tug, you guide him into your living room.

He follows you wordlessly—obediently.

He shuffles into the living room, which looks to be too small for him. Midoriya's towering frame has become the centerpiece in your rather homely and tiny apartment. It was almost amusing. You shut the window as he idly stands by.

You take a few silent steps towards him. Now that he is standing, there is no doubt that he is much taller than you. His figure oozes strength and power, although his crestfallen expression tells you just the opposite.

You stand on your tip-toes to unclasp his mask. But you can't quite reach around to undo it completely. The vigilante dipped forward–-his face coming close to yours. He could have just as easily taken it off himself, but he wanted you to do it.

His green curls tickled your cheek, and you could hear his tinny sigh in your ear. With a simple click, you pulled it off of him. Midoriya's warm breath fanned against your skin.

Tossing the mask to the side, you begin unraveling the yellow cloth. Your hands roam down the expanse of his strong arms, which feel tough and firm under your fingertips even in this relaxed state. They keep traveling until they meet his hands. You hold them up to your eyes as you pull one glove off—finger by finger—and again with the other.

Despite how injured his limbs are, Midoriya can still feel the softness of your skin against his. You hold the large and calloused hands. Without much thought, you press your lips to his scars. His body stiffened at the feeling. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears as you placed tender kisses on his healed-over wounds.

You always found his hands attractive. That was not a secret between either of you. Midoriya couldn't wrap his mind around it, no matter how often you explained it…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Can I see them again?" You asked.

He looked at you with a slightly bewildered expression. But he obliged you anyway. Midoriya always had a hard time denying your requests. He offered you his hand, palm face up. You eagerly took it within your own, holding it delicately.

The crooked fingers and mangled skin were evidence enough that he could withstand a bit of mishandling. Yet, with everything you did, it was always gentle. As though he might break under your touch.

"I've been learning how to read palms, you know." You confide in him.

His brows raise in interest. It wasn't so much as a fun fact you thought to let him know. Moreover, you implied you would read his palms—whether he liked it or not. Not that he would complain.

"Really?" He says, watching you intently. "What do mine say?"

"Well, this line right here. See how it's long and curves this way? I can tell that means you are someone who overthinks. You get a bit in your head, but you are methodical. It's deep, so that means you must have a great memory." He tenses as your fingers drag along his palm.

Midoriya wonders if it's true. If just by looking at a line on his hand, you can tell all of that.

"What else?" He urges you to continue. Truthfully, he didn't particularly believe in stuff like this. He had his ulterior motives—mainly to keep your hands on him.

"This one is your heart line. And it says—oh my," Your brows furrow as you look closer. A tone of concern laces your voice. Midoriya leans forward, too, wanting to know what you see.

"What? What does it say?" He asks. You look up at him and smile a little.

"It says you are loved by many. You're really popular with the ladies. You must leave a trail of broken hearts wherever you go, huh?" You tease.

His cheeks redden, mostly from embarrassment. Almost no one would describe him as a lady's man. Flirting wasn't exactly his forte. Even though he tried to do it with you, he was pretty hopeless. He was lucky enough that you found his attempts endearing.

"Ok, I think that's enough palm-reading for tonight." He says, trying to pull his hands away.

Your grip tightens around him, unwilling to let go quite yet. His eyes widen just a tad at your strength.

"I'm not done with your hands yet. I'm still admiring them." You say matter-of-factly.

He says nothing in response. Midoriya watches as you continue to fiddle with them. Kissing every fingertip, every knuckle, every scar. They were strong, firm, and rough. And yes, while his fingers were crooked and his skin was defaced, you only found them all the more attractive.

He pulls away to cup your cheek. The warmth of his calloused hand practically envelopes the side of your face. You lean into his touch, placing your hand over his own. Midoriya runs his thumb across your lips.

Without thinking, you part them and bring his finger into your mouth. The sudden warmth and wetness make him pause; all he can do is watch you. Your tongue drags along the pad of his thumb before curling around it. The vigilante is keenly aware of your every movement.

His mouth slightly parted. A blush dusts his cheeks, and he instinctively licks his lips as he studies the sight before him. The heat and softness your muscle offered made his cock stir. He couldn't help but imagine you on your knees. Midoriya relished the eager and lust-filled look you had on your face. You took pleasure in the flustered expression he had donned himself…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You moved on from his gloves to the red compression tape that wrapped around his arms, slowly unwinding it and letting it fall to the floor. Following that were his belt, his leg braces, and his shoes.

One by one, you peeled them off until only his suit remained. He watched you from the corner of his eye, primarily focused on the painting you had hung up behind you. You fiddled with the hidden zipper, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

"May I?" You inquired.

You always sought permission when taking off the final piece of his costume. He nodded his head, turning around to give you better access. Midoriya loved it when you asked. He couldn't place why. But hearing the question made his body flush with heat. It didn't go as smoothly the first time you tried to remove his suit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There was blood everywhere. You knew it before you could see it. The bitter smell hung heavy in the air, the metallic taste ruminating on your tongue. The green suit became dark with the ichor that gushed out of him. With all these layers, you couldn't possibly tell where the wound was.

He lay barely conscious on your couch. The only sounds coming from him were groans of pain. You didn't ask. Midoriya didn't seem coherent enough to answer anyway. Plus, why else would he stumble into your living room if not for your help?

Wasting no time, you fingered around for the zipper. You began to pull down until a firm hand gripped your wrist. With a jump, you looked into his eyes. The moans had stopped, and he stared straight into your soul.

Clearly, he didn't want you to continue with what you were doing. Right now, it was a battle of wills. And you were willing to bet you could take on the badly injured hero.

"Let me help you." You asserted.

Midoriya paused for a moment as though he were deciding whether to let you or not. Now wasn't the time for the brooding, self-righteous attitude. It was no secret that he was stubborn. Thankfully, you were equally so. He winces as another wave of pain courses through him. His grip loosens on you just enough for you to get to work.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The suit rolls off of him. The fabric folds on itself as you bring it down. It reveals a masterpiece of pale, bruised, and freckled skin. It's pulled tight around his muscles, revealing a body sculpted from marble.

Now he's standing in your living room except for his underwear. Piece by piece, you had taken off his costume. Chipping away at the vigilante Deku until all that was left was a man underneath.

That was the rule when he came over. The outside world didn't matter. His names, titles, responsibilities, everything. It got left behind on that fire escape. It would still be waiting for him by the time he leaves in the morning. But at least for a few hours—for now, he could be a normal person seeking the comfort of another human being.

You walk around him, a hand dragging along his torso as you observe the damage. It looked like he had a few more scars than when you saw him last—mainly bruising, though. It brought a strange relief to you.

Midoriya instinctively wraps his hand tightly around yours when you offer it. You guide him towards your bathroom, opening the door and standing beside the frame. You offer him the privacy of showering alone. However, more recently, he has gotten into the habit of dragging you along with him.

He stands in the doorway, looking into the sandy-themed bathroom. There is a pause. You can see the gears in his head twisting as he tries to decide. His green eyes flick to you, who is already staring him down to see what he would like to do.

"Clean up. I'll make some dinner for us." You suggested.

He almost looked pained at the offer. Like you had kicked a puppy. Midoriya must have really wanted to shower together.

"Don't give me those eyes!" You couldn't help but laugh.

There was no doubt he was intentionally pulling at your heartstrings when a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was barely noticeable. Unlike the swell of your heart, which demanded your attention when you caught sight of the smirk.

"Katsudon?" He spoke finally.

Oh, his voice.

You grinned and pushed him into the bathroom. "Coming right up!"

You shut the door, giving him some much-needed privacy. Walking into the kitchen, you began your endeavor to make dinner for the both of you. It wasn't quite dinner per se, considering it was almost midnight. But a warm bowl of pork cutlets, eggs, and rice was always welcome. Just as you began to slice up the fried pork, you heard the soft padding of feet behind you.

Midoriya's lumbering frame stood close. The warmth of his body pressed against you, the smell of soap clung to his skin—your soap. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he leaned forward to look at your handiwork. It was now that you realized he was still in his towel, which was tied loosely around his hips. His green hair held a much softer curl while wet. It dripped onto your shoulder, and you squirmed.

"Hey! You're gonna get the food all wet." You tried to reprimand.

Your body wiggled, trying to push him away. It only served to have him hold onto you tighter. His hand sneaked past to grab a strip of meat and pop it in his mouth. Midoriya moaned softly at the crispy texture and savory flavors that coated his tongue.

"So good." He complimented, resting his chin on your shoulder.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. It was such a slight sound that had a resounding effect on you. Clearing your throat, you tried to refocus on the task at hand.

"I left some clothes on the bed for you. Go get warmed up. Dinner will be ready in a minute." You suggested.

Midoriya hummed in response, giving you a tight squeeze before departing to the bedroom. You let out a breath you didn't even realize you had been holding. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. If only he knew the full extent of his effect on you. You served up the bowls and moved over to the couch. Your apartment was too small for a dining table.

"When did you get these?!" He exclaimed from your room.

Midoriya came trotting out wearing cotton All Might pants. You twisted around to see him positively beaming at the sight. His green eyes brightened in a way you only saw when he was stuffed deep inside—

Your cheeks flared up, and you turned around to face the TV. "Just a few weeks ago. It's nothing—I just wanted you to have something comfy to wear when you were here." You stuffed your face with rice, failing at getting the inappropriate images out of your mind.

Midoriya smiled at the thought of you going about your day and picking out something for him. Thinking of him. The image made a warmth spread across his chest. His rough hands tenderly rubbed over his heart, hoping it might help it slow down. He walked over and stood before you, waiting for your undivided attention.

You peeked at him through your lashes, hastily swallowing your bite to speak. But before you could even get the words out, he bent over, bringing his face close to yours. His thumb swiped across your lips to brush away a grain of rice as he gave you a soft smile.

"Thank you." The gesture made you swoon, catching a glimpse of the confident and heroic Deku in the moment.

It made you suddenly nervous and hyper-aware that you didn't have just any man in your apartment. You had Japan's greatest hero. Deku. Who had millions who adored and feared him. Who single-handedly protected the nation. It had been a long time since you felt…nervous around him.

These secret rendezvous have been a part of your life for some time now. You had gotten over yourself long ago and had grown to see him as more than his costume. But rare moments like these seemed to bring it all to the front of your mind.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Deku rushed towards you. Your body trembled, your feet welded to the concrete. And despite how much you yelled at yourself to look away, move, and run…all you could do was helplessly stare at the defeated villain crumpled to the ground.

Death was so close. So close you could still feel his cold hand on your shoulder, primed to take you at a moment's notice. An eternal and unforgiving nothingness waiting to greet you. Memories, feelings, life…all snuffed out by the whim of a selfish villain.

"Hey…look at me," Midoriya's metallic voice commanded.

You couldn't even do that much. Stuck in a repeating loop of torture. It pained him to see you this way. That he had come so close to losing you. That he couldn't protect you. And if he had come even a second later—

He tried not to think about it. Instead, he reached out and gripped your shoulders before pulling you tightly to his chest. The motion snaps you out of your daze. His broad body practically enveloped you as though he could shield you from any danger. His hand rested on the back of your head, and you buried yourself into his chest.

"You did good. Lasting as long as you did until I could get there. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had stopped watching the show a while ago. Old superhero cartoons the two of you had repeatedly seen were much less interesting than the actual hero sitting beside you.

He sat with his legs splayed wide, taking up a good portion of your loveseat. His muscled arm draped over the back of the sofa, lifting his tee to show a hint of a v-line. His other held you firm to his side, drawing lazy circles on your arm. And his eyes. The forest held within them seemed to sparkle with amusement.

This was him. Izuku Midoriya.

Not the hero holding Japan together. Not the vigilante striking fear into villains. Just…Izuku. And he was all yours. For the few hours you had him tonight, at least.

He noticed you staring and tilted his head to look at you. His heart skipped under your curious gaze, but he nevertheless swallowed his nerves to speak.

"Do you want to watch something else?" He asked.

The hero studied you as you moved to sit on his lap. His heart began to buzz against his chest, making itself known. Almost like a dog excitedly wagging its tail.

Your oversized shirt lifted to reveal your soft thighs to him. And it was now he realized that you weren't wearing any shorts underneath. Not because he couldn't see them. But because he could feel your warmth through the thin fabric of your panties.

The hero swallowed thickly, deciding to look up instead of down. But he found himself caught in your inquisitive gaze. He tried to maintain his composure but still felt a familiar heat flush up to his cheeks. Midoriya clenched his hands, the blunt nail digging into his calloused palms.

Being intimate with you was nothing new, but the way you looked right now was sinful. Your head tilted curiously to the side. He noted how your hair cascaded with the movement. His eyes flicked to your lips, which had been parted and curled almost into a smile.

Don't look at the lips. Don't look at the lips.

He tried to resolve. So he ambled up over your rosy cheeks to meet your eyes. Which held nothing but absolute adoration for him. He reached up to the collar of his shirt and tugged at it, a poor attempt to cool his warm face. Midoriya relented and let his head fall back, unable to keep his eyes on you anymore.

Truthfully, it didn't matter where he looked. Every part of you served to be the object of his desires. From his innocent daydreams to the most salacious thoughts. It was not that long ago that Midoriya had taken a hit square to the jaw as he inconveniently remembered just how beautiful you looked sprawled out underneath him.

"Earth to Izuku." Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

His ears twinged pink at the realization he had gotten lost in thought.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Welcome back, Space Cadet." You teased, poking his forehead with a playful smile. Something about you was so infectious that he could hardly suppress his own. "There's that million-dollar smile. I was wondering if I'd get to see it tonight."

He rolled his eyes, leaning back into the softness of the couch and letting his hands rest along your thighs. You admired his casual look: how his hair curled around his face, how his eyes observed you, the flash of his pink tongue as it swiped across his lips, or the endless freckles that dotted his cheeks.

Izuku was incomparable. And it was any wonder why he picked you to spend the occasional quiet evening with.

You leaned in close, cradling his face. He felt his skin go hot at the sudden intimacy. But he still refused to pull away.

"W-what are you—"

"Shh, I'm counting your freckles." You interrupted.

Midoriya blinked. You were so cute; it practically pained him. The hero quickly became pliant under you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

Your brain seemed to go haywire at the question, and your cheeks blossomed upon realization. You flitted your gaze between his green eyes and his lips. And then you nodded—not before completely melting his heart.

"Pretty please?" You replied.

His scarred hand reached up to the curve of your face, guiding you towards him. Your heart thrummed in your chest, and you leaned in to kiss his lips chaste. Izuku peered at your lips. And before you could ask for another, he was already pressed to kiss you again.

And again.

And again.

He noted how soft your lips felt—even as you hungrily took everything you wanted from him. Midoriya was happy to let you get away with it. So long as he got to have you just a bit longer.

Your hands ran up the expanse of his chest, fisting the cotton underneath as you desperately yearned to be closer. His hand came up to your neck, fingertips brushing against your jaw as his thumb rested against the column of your throat.

Your tongue dragged across his lower lip, teeth gently biting and pulling at it for entry to the rest of him. He sighed at the feeling, letting you take all of him and more.

He brought the hand resting along your neck down your front, gently pawing at your chest. He murmured into your mouth at the plushness of it. His finger dragged over the fabric of your shirt, firmly swiping over your nipple, which elicited a sharp inhale from you.

His fingers expertly teased you. Thumbs rolling across the sensitive buds, pinching and pulling at them over your clothes.

He loved nothing more than drawing out your whines and moans, learning the way your body reacted to him. Midoriya nearly whined himself as you pulled away from the kiss. But it was quickly swallowed as he watched your fingers hook around the hemline of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal yourself to him.

He practically drooled. Exercising every bit of self-control not to defile your chest, which sat so pretty in front of him. No. He wanted to admire them first before he lavished them.

Izuku cupped your breasts, enjoying how they seemed to bounce with every movement. His fingers sunk into the plush skin, giving you a tender squeeze. The pads of his digits rolled over your nipple. He noted how it pebbled with the movement, perking up just for him. Instinctively, he wrapped his lips around and swept his tongue across it. You inhaled sharply. And he could tell just how much you had enjoyed it when your back arched into his mouth.

"Just like that~" You praised.

Your fingers tangled in his mess of green curls. Izuku hummed against you, the vibrations suddenly making you whine for more. His cock steadily stiffened, twitching up to your clothed heat. The hardness pressed against you, mixed with the attention of Midoriya's mouth, hazed all of your senses with lust.

You raised off of his lap, and he almost seemed to frown. He wasn't done with you. Nevertheless, he rested his hands on your waist, waiting to see what you would do. His shaft bulged against the loose fabric of his pants. Midoriya's cock pressed up against his abdomen. You would surely see his pink tip if the waistline had been tugged down even a little.

Before he could ask what you were doing, you aligned yourself with his thick member and sat happily on it.

The thinness of your clothes did little to hide how you felt to each other. His shaft placed neatly between your lips, making your panties soak up your wetness. Midoriya groaned and shifted his hips to give you a better angle to grind against him. He watched as you rolled back and forth. His tip occasionally peeked out at the movement.

You bit on your lower lip to stifle your moans. His breathing was heavy as he held onto your hips, holding you down to apply just the right amount of pressure to his dick. Izuku was beginning to wonder if this was pleasure or punishment.

He gripped you strong enough to hold you still, lifting you up so he could tug down the waistband of his pants. The vigilante sighed and let you rest yourself back on him. You slid up and down his shaft. His tip nestled neatly between your clothed lips and pushed against your clit as you rubbed against him.

Midoriya eagerly watched you, committing the sight of you to his memory. Everything you did seemed to take his breath away. The hero had accepted long ago that his heart was yours and that he would continue to make Japan safer for you.

You lifted up ever so slightly, pushing your panties to the side. His cock eagerly twitched at the realization he'd finally get to be inside of you. The blunt head rolled between your lips before pressing towards your hole.

Midoriya sighed at feeling the entrance happily wrap around the leaky tip. The sigh quickly turned into a choked groan as you suddenly sank down on him.

He nearly bottomed out from under you, a gasp as his hands flew to your hips to hold you steady. Midoriya was too embarrassed to admit he'd almost met his early demise. You whined at the fullness of him, his shaft thoroughly stretching you in a familiar burn you hadn't felt for quite some time.

"S-so good," he mumbled with a hoarse voice. "So good, my pretty girl," Midoriya praised.

Your walls seemed to flutter around him at the sweet name he called you.

"Say that again." You breathed, slowly moving up and down on his lap.

He groaned at the sensation, enjoying how wet and warm you felt around him. Whatever control he thought he had quickly melted away under the indulgence of you.

"J-just like that. My pretty girl," He voiced again, his hand shifting to place the pad of his thumb on your clit.

A jolt of electricity shot through you, making your soft walls clamp tighter around him. He groaned at the tightness wrapped around him. At the same time, you whimpered at the pleasure of his thumb lazily stroking you. You continued to ride him, touching his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

The slow and languid pace was borderline torture for him. The way your pussy squeezed his cock as you lifted your hips. As though your own body didn't want to let him go. You took your sweet time fucking him. As if you had all the time in the world.

His head fell back, soft moans escaping from his parted lips. Meanwhile, you rode the vigilante at your own happy pace. You enjoyed seeing him like this. Relaxed and at ease. Lost in his own lust. Having forgotten about everything else. Completely enraptured by you.

He felt your movements quicken, becoming sloppier as you tried to get closer to your own end. Midoriya adored the sight of you drunk off of him, using his cock for your pleasure. He couldn't stop himself from reaching forward and pulling your face into his for a desperate kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips. And he drank up the moans you spilled into his mouth.

The hero gripped the back of your thighs, holding you steady as he turned the both of you over so he could be on top. The ease with which he carried you turned you on much more than you wanted to admit. You knew he was strong. But in small moments like that, he made you realize just how capable he is.

Your legs spread for him in response, eager to have him back inside of you again. He couldn't help but grin, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. Midoriya untied the drawstring of his pants, kicking them off before moving to slide your ruined underwear down your legs.

"So wet for me. All for me." He sighed, unable to keep himself from you anymore.

His lips crashed into yours as his cock plunged into your core. Midoriya set a relentless pace into you that made you whine and cry. The hero was never rough with you. But he would happily drown under the riptide of pleasure you gave him--bringing you down with him.

"F-Fuck," Izuku staggered out, his hips rolling into you. "Y-you feel so good." He admired.

This was his favorite part. Seeing you come undone by him. Lost to your own desires, only able to see him. Think of him. He loved how his name sounded when it came from your lips. Midoirya didn't know if he liked it more when you were begging for or praising him.

Your mewls only served to push him closer to his climax. So, he angled his hips in a way he knew would finish you. His hot tip pressed to your g-spot with every thrust. A cry tumbled from your lips. And you desperately grasped at him as your body became weak against the overstimulating pleasure he pushed into you.

"W-wait, Izu--fuck," You stammered, your body begging for a reprieve.

You whined, an electrifying heat pooling in your abdomen. The words could barely come out before he happily drew out your orgasm for him. Your walls clamped down on him, keeping his cock firmly stuffed deep inside of you. He moaned at the feeling. His head fell forward, his curled hair covering his eyes.

He wanted to pull out. He tried, but your cunt just felt so warm he never wanted to leave. And like you could read his mind, you permitted him. Not only that, you had practically begged him to do so.

"I-inside…I need it inside," You pleaded, your legs pulling him into you. Midoriya groaned, practically falling on top of you as his final thrust sputtered inside you. It was better than seeing you painted with his cum. The way your walls milked every drop from him. Claiming you in a much more intimate way.

"Fuck." He grumbled, which sent shivers down your spine. His heavy body seemed to relax against you, resting his forehead on yours as you both tried to catch your breath. Midoriya's green eyes had fluttered closed, the curl of his lashes brushing against his freckled cheeks.

And you had to bite your tongue from telling him you loved him right then and there.

The relationship, if you could even call it that, was a delicate dance the two of you tip-toed around. Never quite saying what you meant. You knew that his country, his work, being a hero--came first. And he feared that saying the obvious part out loud only solidified putting you in danger.

The simple truth was that when you two were intertwined as you were now, holding on tightly--afraid to let go. The words didn't need to be said. Two hearts that beat in sync knew the truth.

You gently kissed his cheek and smiled as he returned the gesture, delicately pressing his mouth to your face and neck. With your arms encircling his shoulders, he carried you tenderly towards your room. And as he lay down beside you, he drew you close. There was little you could do about how your heart fluttered at having your hero beside you again, even if it was for a single night.

"Izuku?" You mumbled, pressing your face to the crook of his neck.

"Hmm?" He hummed, eyes already closed as he drew lazy circles on your arm.

"I missed you."

Midoriya's heart buzzed from your affectionate words. And there was a pause in the air as he thought of what to say next. Miss was too simple. He didn't just miss you. He ached for you.

He loved you.

Your soft snores interrupted his thoughts. He pulled you in closer, holding you tightly.

"I missed you too," Midoriya smiled. As much as he didn't want to admit it, as much as he felt he didn't deserve you, he enjoyed these moments of domesticity—a peek at a different life—one where the fate of Japan didn't rest on his shoulders.

When you woke up, you knew the bed would be much colder without him in it. A note would have been left for you on your nightstand, the dishes from last night's dinner would have been cleaned up, and the clothes he wore would have been folded neatly.

He'd be long gone.

And you would happily wait forever for the return of your stray hero.

[katiemccabeswife]

Illicit Affairs

Alexia Putellas x Reader|| Alexia is pulling away from you and thinking back on all the memories, good and bad, you finally snap.

T Swizzle because I saw her live yesterday 🤗 I feel bad doing Ale like this and it’s my first time doing something like this so please nice 🤍

You sighed as Alexia pulled away, instantly reaching for a shirt to cover herself with. You turned away from her, not wanting her to see your crestfallen face after realising that this time was not unlike any others. Recently.

You hadn't noticed when it started happening, when Alexia seemed to detach and the possibility of the 2 of you going public seemed to vanish into thin air. You would come over and maybe watch a movie before the two of you would have sex and then she would dress herself and turn to face opposite you.

Make sure nobody sees you leave, hood over your head, keep your eyes down,

Sometimes she would remind you to make sure that no one saw you leave her apartment and to keep your hood over your head in case paparazzi or fans saw someone leaving her house and decided to take photos.

Tell your friends you're out for a run, you'll be flushed when you return,

If she didn't immediately turn away from you she would occasionally make a joke, asking you how your 'run' was. The joke stemmed from the time Mapi caught you leaving the bathrooms flushed and you had to come up with an excuse, claiming you had just finished running.

Take the road less travelled by,

Ona lived on the way to Ale's house and had noticed you driving past one too many times and questioned you about it, non-threateningly and unsuspecting of anything of course but Ale got angry at you claiming that you did it on purpose so you started travelling the back streets to and from her house to keep suspicions low.

Tell yourself you can always stop, what started in beautiful rooms,

You knew you weren't being treated the way you should be but you could stop if you wanted to, end the relationship and move on from Alexia and be happy. The only thing stopping you was hope, you used to catch her staring at you, dazed, from across the room and she used to make beautiful candle-lit dinners for every important date or milestone now, you were lucky if she offered left over takeout.

Ends with meetings in parking lots,

You wanted that Alexia back, you didn't want the one who drove you into a random car park to fuck you before driving you home.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

If people knew Alexia was dating you people would definitely have some not-so-nice things to say. You were, what some would call, her controversially young girlfriend being 9 years younger than her which was the ‘whole’ reason your relationship was kept secret.

And clandestine meetings and longing stares, it's born from just one single glance,

Looking back on your relationship and how the two of you used to act was like looking at an entirely different couple. You used to enjoy sneaking around with Alexia, the adrenaline it used to bring you. It reminded you of when you first met her, it was your first day at Barca and Alexia took the time and effort to greet you out the front and guide you around the training centre. You knew once you saw her standing out in the cold with that stupid, awkward smile on her face that you liked her and you couldn't help it if you wanted to.

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies, a million little times,

The age gap became evident when Alexia would call you 'kid' in front of the team and your cheeks would burn red from embarrassment, knowing it was you girlfriend, who had sex with you, that was calling you ‘kid’. Every time the nickname slipped from her lips you could feel part of your relationship dying, and your heart breaking further, into a million little pieces.

Leave the perfume on the shelf, that you picked out just for him, so you leave no trace behind like you don't even exist,

You used to enjoy doing small things for Alexia, like buying a perfume you knew she would like when she burrowed her head into the crook of your neck but something that small would be insignificant and go unnoticed now. That perfume sat on your shelf staring at you teasingly, unopened, you didn't want to wear it anymore.

Take the words for what they are a dwindling, mercurial high a drug that only worked the first few hundred times

Alexia used to do the same sort of little things, buying you flowers randomly or bringing home a little treat for you every once in a while. She continued the tradition for a year before the unpredictability of the gifts that once filled you with the warmth of love started to slowly fade away every time she told you she couldn't go on a date with you or didn't want to spend time with you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs and clandestine meetings and stolen stares, they show their truth one single time but they lie, and they lie, and they lie, a million little times

Alexia used to be the one to plan the secret meet-ups and dates, you used to be the one catching her staring at you and now she was the one standing you up and calling you out for 'acting like a child', while she would continue to fuck you like she loved you and lie to you like they were truths.

And you wanna scream 'Don't call me "kid"'

"And I fucking hate it when you call me 'kid', Alexia! I'm supposed to be your girlfriend!" You screamed at her as tears fell down your face.

"Baby-" She tried to reach out to you.

'Don't call me "baby"', look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You took a step back and raised her pointer finger at her, "Don't fucking call me baby either," You wiped at your tears aggressively before giving up as they kept falling, "God Ale! Look at me," You sobbed, "Look at what you made me, I'm a fucking mess!" It was clear to anyone that you hadn't been sleeping or eating if someone were to walk in the room they would assume you had been punched in the eyes due to the smudged mascara surrounding your eyes.

You showed me colours you know I can't see with anyone else,

"I don't even know who you are anymore!" You could see Alexia trying to get a word in but you were filled with such sorrow it just kept flowing out of you, "You don't treat anyone in the team half as bad as you treat me and I'm your fucking girlfriend!"

"Baby-hey, we agreed that we would keep it private," She tried to reason.

'Don't call me "kid", don't call me "baby"', look at this idiotic fool that you made me, you taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else,

"I told you don't call me baby!" When you agreed to keep things private you thought that meant steering clear of PDA not keeping your entire existence a secret, "God, I am such a fucking idiot," You had learnt to dissect Ale's words after she started coding them, you could find the deeper meaning in 'compliments' and find the insult when no one else could, you could find hidden meanings behind sugar-coated words and it pained you that you were the only one who seemed to do so.

And you know damn well for you, I would ruin myself a million little times,

"I haven't slept, Ale," You looked back at her, "I haven't eaten, I've worked out more times than I can count, I have been ruining myself trying to be perfect for you. I'm trying to change myself just so you would like me again! And the saddest part is, is that I would do it a million times over because I love you!"

You had to pluck up the courage to leave as soon as the words slipped out of your mouth because you knew for the first time in almost a year, she had heard you when you told her you loved her, really heard you and you didn’t give her a chance to say it back.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

what should’ve been you

t. todoroki x reader (kind of). for his birthday <3

after paying a visit to touya’s grave on his birthday years after his passing, you meet someone unexpectedly. angst/comfort @crushmeeren @suksatoru

also, based off of this post here

inspired by bigger than the whole sky

it had been years since touya's life had slipped out of your grasp, from beneath the high-tech glass chamber that was nothing more than a futile attempt to save his life. an almost admirable attempt from his father, but ultimately pointless, considering how much of his life had already wasted away into ashes.

even in the aftermath, no words appear to you, kneeling on the soft grass in front of his headstone.

touya todoroki, it simply says. no loving messages, no heartfelt anecdotes, just the name that had been stolen from him in his childhood. it's almost as if his family had tried to return him the thing he chose to rid himself off.

his sister probably chose the location- 5 minutes away from their household, just nearby a shallow pond. she likely thought about making it accessible to her parents and brothers, though whether or not they took advantage of the location is unknown to everyone. this time of winter touya would have loved- the frost blanketing the water, snow glistening through the sky, but his family probably didn't know that when they chose the spot.

the simple though has salt streaming out your eyes, looking to the barren stone that marks his final resting place. if touya were here, he'd scoff, tell you that there's "nothing to cry about," and pull you into his arms. he'd probably give you his jacket, reminding you of his immunity to the cold and your shit immune system. if he were here, he'd be more than just a short time, more than all the love in the world you could describe.

but somehow, in someway, it's all over, all out to sea.

though, you're not as alone as you may believe. funny how two people can stand meters away from one another, mourn the same person, and still feel worlds away.

shouto thinks its funny, at least. though he can't find much humor in this situation- he never could.

you turn your head, acknowledging touya's little brother. its shocking to see anyone visit this grave. it's even more shocking that its the family who touya believed hated him.

theres a beat of silence between the two of you, though the understanding is there. every single thing to come has turned into ashes.

you expect questions: "who are you? why are you here? did you love him? can you tell me what you loved about him, so i can know him too?"

but shouto, now a young adult, who has had time to think but never fully heal, skips the interview. instead he walks towards you, two-toned eyes asking for permission before he sits next to you.

"...he talked about you."

"...did he?"

"a lot." he almost chuckles.

"thats... surprisingly sweet of him." you hum, noticing the snow, crestfallen on his headstone. you want to reach in, to ask if he's cold, though you know he'd probably call you an idiot for worrying and proceed to worry more about you.

and the fact that shouto knows you- maybe not your name, or your age, but knows that you had held a place in touya's life, speaks volumes.

then you look at shouto- the perfect one, the one endeavour had abused and destroyed everything over. you know that look in his eyes, wanting to know what could have been, what he could have been, if he had touya. he's a pro-hero, a healed person, a good person, and at the end of the day, he's still a little kid needing his big brother.

"...i'm never going to meet him." he whispers to himself, small words hitting so huge.

you were blessed with meeting touya- the warm, loving, asshole-ish idiot that ultimately just craved love. you had seen of glimpse of what could have been, and for the rest of your life, you'd be haunted by gratefulness, knowing you had been one of the few people touya todoroki revealed himself to, truly and unconditionally.

shouto, however, didn't have that. and it shows in his eyes, in his hands, in his heart.

words fail, but your hand on his shoulder isn't lost on him. your tears spill and his eyes screw shut, neither knowing what to say, but finding solace in the silence.

touya was the loss of your life, an absence that'll haunt you forever. he's a burning memory, his tattoo kisses all over your heart, and shouto? he's got so much to pine about, so much to live without. he was years too late to save what could have been. you both were. you all were.

then, shouto says the unthinkable: "i named my son after him."

you blink, not expecting that, turning to face him. there isn't a ghost of a lie in his eyes, and that's enough to piece it together for you.

he immediately goes to defend himself, realizing what it sounds like- that he was trying to honor a horrible person, a villain.

"i just... i wanted to remember him." a tear slips down his cheek, but he doesn't care. "i wanted to save his name."

he waits for you to answer, expecting anger, or hurt, or simple disbelief. but touya would be proud of how easily you surprise people, probably smiling to himself from wherever he is.

"that's beautiful, shouto." you smile, and so does he.

"you think?" he tries to confirm, though you both laugh a little, knowing that it is, indeed, a beautiful act. so you talk and sit together. he listens to memories of touya, reconciling an image of him in his mind: touya, who loves winter. touya, who loves soba and hates waking up too early in the morning. touya, who always shows up late to every family gathering and acts like a teasing piece of shit to all his siblings, but who would burn down the world for them. touya, who would have been everything. who should have been.

touya, who was everything to you in the short time he was there.

touya, but this time shouto's son, being the person the part of him that could be saved.

[rebelliousstories]

Home for the Holidays

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 2,190

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: If there is anyone that can convince him to stay home, it was her. And if there was any time for him to stay home, it was now.

Consider Donating: Here

“Logan!”

“Logan! Come back!”

“Logan! Wolverine!”

Too many times had he heard the call of his name by those he loved. Too often did he refuse to turn back to go to them out of his own stupid pride. And, because of this, far too much did he miss out on fun events and memories. That had apparently went out the window the second that he decided to date his girlfriend.

Do not be mistaken, Logan still manages to find ways to slip away from the school in order to not join in on festivities. But it had been greatly reduced since she came along. A mutant who has the ability to decay anything with a single touch, that somehow fell in love with the man who could not seem to die.

Logan was picking up the keys to his motorcycle when she came to fetch him.

“Log, hey honey.” Her wide beam smile threatened to infect his own face, but he let a small tilt of his lips escape.

“What do you want, darling?” He grumbled, plopping his heavy body on the machine.

“Will you stay home with me tomorrow?”

Her eyes begged him, oh so cutely. But he knew what that was code for. It was what she did each and every time.

“Nope.”

“But, Logan.” He began to start the bike up, which drowned her out for a second.

“No. You’re not dragging me to another party.” The rumble of the beast underneath him was a calming feeling and sound. It was part of the reason he went on so many drives on it. Silence was so hard to achieve when you could hear things most people could never.

“Log, wait just a second,” her arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him right where she wanted him. “Please, it’s Thanksgiving. Just stay home with us please. With me?” Her pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I don’t do holidays. Besides, I’m Canadian.”

As he drove away, Logan could still see her crestfallen face in his side mirrors. Once he was out on the open road, he tried to put her upset expression out of his mind, but found he could not. This happened every major holiday; even the minor ones too. It was not that he did not like spending time with her, quite the opposite really. But it was that he did not care for the major celebrations.

Too many smells and sounds. People pretending that they wanted to be around him when in actuality they could not care less. As they got closer to the holiday season, people spent money that they did not have to impress people who would still think those same nasty things about them. The falseness of the months of November and December repulsed him.

But the long he went, the more he thought about her. This was their second Thanksgiving together, and he had done the exact same thing last year. Driven off on his bike, camped at a dingy motel for the next two days with a constant supply of alcohol, before returning on Friday. Would it have truly been so bad for him to stay at home with her, and suffered through the festivities?

A ding broke his gaze from the road. He was running low on fuel. Sighing, Logan kept his eyes out for a gas station along the deserted road he was on. There was nothing he hated more than to run out of gas before he got to a place to fill up. Thankfully, that was not the case.

An old station that had probably not been repaired since the mid 70’s came upon his journey. There was a lone truck at the pumps when he pulled in, and another around back meaning that there was at least two people inside the building. For some reason, Logan felt the need to go inside and grab a snack. As soon as he stepped through the door, a warm scene greeted him.

There stood a dad with his children who were laughing while their mom checked out with their snacks. All of them were so happy with each other. Even the woman at the register was smiling because of them. Logan could hear their conversation, and it was all so hopeful. The children were talking excitedly about what they wanted to eat for the holiday, and which cousins they would see. Their father was happily listening to them, and prompting them to talk more about what they wanted to do.

It was so beautiful to watch that he was a little sad that they had left afterwards. He set his pack of beer and chips on the counter, but let his mind wander. Logan had long since given up on the concept of having a family himself, even though he would like one. With his mutation, it was probably not possible. He very well could outlive his own children, or whoever was their mother, and that was not a fun thought for him to have.

Getting the case of beer and food onto the bike took a bit of maneuvering, but the mutant made it happen. Instead of going back to the school though, he just continued down the road now that he was refueled in more ways than one. What was once a peaceful drive meant to clear his head and heart, had quickly turned to quiet for him.

All he could think of now was being home with his girlfriend for Thanksgiving. During the school year, he loved watching her interact with the younger children. It always stirred something in him that he kept dampening down whenever it sprung up. This was part of the reason that he was so reluctant to spend holidays with her.

She always made sure that the kids who had no family to go home to were taken care of; unfortunately, that was a majority of the students at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. But she never made them miss out on fun festive activities. He knew that leading up to the big day, her lesson plans always took some time to make decorations. The younger kids had made hand turkeys, while the older ones used the changing leaves outside to make their own collages or scrapbooks.

That was just how she was. Even though her mutation caused destruction, her spirit repaired others. There was nothing that she was not willing to do if it meant making others happy. It often caused some insecurity to sprout in Logan’s chest. Because, how was someone so kind, so caring, so lovely, so precious, dating someone like him? A mutant who tried to find solace in the bottom of a bottle, and kept killing bottles to find it. A mutant who got into fights whenever he felt like it, and kept true to his lone wolf personality.

The motel that evening did not provide the comfort he was looking for. Usually, there was a little ease associated with it. A nice, calm, stable environment for him away from the hustle and bustle that he knew was overtaking the school at this very moment. As Logan cracked open his first beer, he thought about how shut down she was when he drove away. His pride would not allow him to admit that he was wrong, and frankly, up until this point, he had not believe that he was wrong. And yet, there was just a little something in his chest that tugged on his heart as he went to sleep that made him believe other wise.

After Logan had left, she went back into the mansion with a frown etched deep onto her face. But there was little time to dwell on the fact that her boyfriend was leaving once again. There was so much to do for the big meal tomorrow. Cooking for an entire school was an arduous task, but one that her, and the other adults, took on gratefully.

Her mind was kept free from thoughts that would damper her mood all through the rest of the day. So many people had joined together that year to make their feast. Different dietary restrictions, different cultures, and different preferences had made for one interesting prepping day. She did make sure to include a couple turkeys on the table that had to be prepped, but there was just so much variety.

However, sleep continued to evade her that night. The blame was partially on the lack of her space heater lover not providing adequate warmth for her. During the colder months, Logan’s ability to run warm was her favorite thing about him. He was just a big, hairy, perfectly warmed teddy bear to latch onto in the middle of the night.

But most of the blame was on the fact that she would, once again, be alone on the holidays. Sure, she had her friends and the kids, but that was not the same as having her Wolverine. He would be doing whatever he was doing for the next two days, before coming back like nothing had happened.

And that was how she found herself in the kitchen, stress baking, at four o’clock in the morning. Her ever so popular iced lemon cookies were on the menu. It was a process that she had done so much, that she did not need to think about what she was doing. She knew that these would be going like hot cakes tomorrow, or rather today if someone wanted to be technical. So she did not worry about making too many; there would never be enough.

Five am came far faster than she ever thought. There were a few of the older people that had begun trickling in, and here she was. Still baking. Charles got his morning tea before retreating into his office. Scott made his and Jean’s cup of coffee and left to go to their room. Storm, however, stayed. She made both of them a cup of coffee before starting on food preparations while the other woman finished off her baking.

They snacked on cookies and remnants of food for breakfast while the rest of the school woke up. Remy and Rogue both came down to share a plate of eggs and toast in the dinning room, aiming just to stay out of the way for now. However, as soon as they were done, they were put to work warming up side dishes that had been prepped the day before to save on time.

In a few hours, the adults had the perfect Thanksgiving meal on the tables. Everything was served buffet style, with additional chairs and tables inhabiting the dinning and game room. Every one fixed themselves a plate with a little bit of everything they wanted, and sat down to enjoy a nice time together. But she just watched from her little corner.

Sure, she had a plate of food, but it did not seem too appealing right now. Right now, she was just enjoying watching everyone enjoy themselves. She saw Scott and Jean laughing, feeding each other bites from their plates, and chatting with the youngsters they had come to take in as their own. It made her a bit bitter on what was supposed to be a day of thanks. Pushing around a bit of Rogue’s green bean casserole, she did not know what she was expecting when someone cleared their throat behind her.

Logan was the last person she expected to see, though.

He stood a bit awkwardly. His hands were shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans, right next to the big belt buckle he loved wearing. The flannel covering his arms and chest was the one that she had gotten him as a belated Christmas present last year. Not because she forgot to give it to him on Christmas, but rather because he was not there for it. Logan cleared his throat again before trying to speak.

“Mind helping me fix a plate, darling?” Her shock was recovered quickly as she stood, leaving behind her own plate. She talked him through each dish, and helped load up his plate with things that he may not have understood, but would definitely enjoy eating. There was a little something that was nagging her as they went to go sit down again.

“What are you doing back so soon?”

For once, Logan did not have what seemed like an appropriate response. He never bothered with giving a good answer before because he never cared who took offense to what he was saying. Now, he was terrified to upset his girlfriend even more.

“I just figured I would give this thing a try.” Logan tried to keep his eyes to his food, and shoveled a bit in before he could speak more.

“Well,” she began putting together her own first bite, “thank you for humoring me.”

“Don’t get used to it, darling.”

Anyone who did not know Logan would assume that he was being serious. But she knew better. That twinkle in his eye let her know that she just might turn his cynical heart around yet.

[callsign-rogueone]

the love letter

sawyer henrick x healer!reader (peach!) words: 1.7k 🏷: no book spoilers, no warnings, set in iron flame, the 4th chapter in sawyer and peach's story, more of james being creepy but he doesn't make an appearance this time, nolon is still out of office, two points extra credit if you find a reference to another gf in here somewhere, both of these kids are still in denial and will be for another... three? chapters, first chapter of 2025 lezgeddit

Two more shelves of supplies to inventory, and then you’ll be done for the day. You pull yourself up from the floor, wincing at the ache in your knees from squatting in front of an under-the-sink cabinet. “Almost done,” you sigh. 

“I’ll finish up,” Sarah says, nodding toward the door. “You go see loverboy.”

“He’s a friend,” you correct, hoping she can’t see the warmth in your cheeks.

“Mmm,” she hums, clearly not buying it. “A very good friend, then. He’s here almost every day.”

She’s right. Like clockwork, Sawyer is waiting for you at eleven twenty eight. Always just a little bit early, but never ever late. You suppose riders have to be even more punctual than healers. 

“Thank you,” you say, giving her a rushed half-hug before you head out to the main room of the infirmary.

He’s always sitting at one of the study tables, and always stands up as soon as he sees you. 

You don’t wait for him to ask. “I got a hundred percent on my foraging assignment,” you say by way of greeting.

He smiles. “See? I told you not to worry about it, miss future Head Healer.”

“You’re not letting that go anytime soon, are you?”

“Nope.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully, but there’s no denying that his belief in you feels good, even if it’s exaggerated — there’s a tiny bit of truth in every joke. 

“Could you thank him again for me?” you ask softly. 

“Of course,” he says warmly. “And I brought you something, to celebrate.”

“It’s not another knife, is it?” you ask with a nervous laugh.

“I promise it’s not a knife.” He reaches inside his jacket, pulling out a piece of cloth, then folds back the edges, revealing something that glitters in the afternoon sunlight — a delicate metal chain with a tiny flower pendant at the end of it. He lays it in your palm, pocketing the cloth. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“I didn’t. I made it myself.”

Your smile fades near immediately. “You made this?”

He looks a little crestfallen. “Yeah, why?” 

“I love it,” you reassure him quietly, still gazing at it, “but I don’t want you to be in pain. Especially not for me.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

You look up at him. “Doesn’t it hurt? Using your signet?”

He looks concerned, his eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not. It felt a little weird and tingly at first, but it never hurts.”

“But the Colonel always looks so uncomfortable, and the other mender… fixing a broken bone nearly brought her to tears,” you tell him, looking back at the tiny metal flower that you hold in your palm. You wouldn’t want to wear it if it had caused him pain to make it — but then if you don’t wear it, the pain would have been wasted. Which is worse?

“Hey,” he nudges, his hands settling on your forearms. “I promise you, it didn’t hurt me at all to make this, or to adjust that dagger for you. It’s easy, like shaping clay. Easier than that, really. I don’t have to sculpt all the details, I just picture them and they appear.”

You crack a smile. “I was wondering why you stole a single flower from my basket the other day.”

He blushes. “Sorry. I needed a reference — I wanted to make it accurate.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “Thank you. Can you help me put it on?” You know you could do it yourself, but some part of you wants him to be the one to close the clasp, to lay his claim to you.

He takes it back from you, roughened fingers brushing against yours. “Turn around,” he prods.

You move your hair out of the way, letting him drape the thin chain around your neck. It’s just long enough for the tiny flower to sit exactly above your heart. The metal is pleasantly warm against your skin, seeming to glow under his touch as he clasps it, his fingertips brushing against the sides of your neck. 

He wants to kiss the soft skin there, to wrap his arms around your waist and press his chest to your back, to nudge his nose against the side of your throat and just breathe you in, because you smell absolutely intoxicating — sugary, fruity perfume and a hint of whatever herbs you’d been working with this morning. He settles for a gentle, fleeting touch to your shoulders, smoothing out the sleeves of your shirt before he shoves his hands back into his pockets.

“Thank you, Sy,” you say quietly, turning to face him again. There’s a soft pink blush across his cheeks, his lips curved into a shy smile. It’s adorable. You’d definitely kiss him right now if this weren’t all an act. It would be so easy to step forward and rise onto your tiptoes and just… Nope. Boundaries. He’s just doing you a favor, as a friend. Don’t make it weird.

He isn’t saying anything, so you attempt to cut the tension by changing the subject. “You’re pretty good at this pretend boyfriend thing, you know. Bringing me gifts, slipping that love letter under my door…”

His head tilts to the side in confusion. It's unbearably cute. “What letter?”

You give him a sly smile. “I know it was totally over the top and super cheesy, but you don’t have to pretend. It was kinda cute.”

His gaze hardens. “What letter, peach,” he repeats, with an edge to his voice that you’ve only heard a few times — it’s not a question, but an order for you to tell him what the hell is going on.

Your heart drops. “It really wasn’t from you?”

He shakes his head no.

It all starts to add up. You haven’t seen Sawyer’s handwriting in years, but now that you think about it, it didn’t look anything like what you’d seen this morning, and there isn’t any trace of amusement on his face as he looks at you — he’s telling the truth. It wasn’t him. It was James.

All those sweetened words now feel like taunts, the promises like threats. Maybe they are. Maybe you’re right to be scared of him.

“Do you have it with you?” he asks gently.

“No, it’s… it’s on my desk.”

He picks up your bag, shouldering it and gesturing toward the door, as if to say lead the way. You make the trip silently, taking him down hallways that have become familiar to him in the last few weeks. He’s memorized the turns by now; a left past the infirmary, up two flights of stairs, another left, third door on the right. Room 322.

You unlock it with an actual key — something he’s still not used to — and shrug off the healer’s robe as soon as you walk in the door, tossing it over the back of your chair.

He’s walked you to your door a few times, but he’s never been inside. He realizes that the way everything in the riders' rooms is black, the healers’ are powder blue; the sheets and drapes, and the woven rug between your desk and the bed. He steps back, not wanting to dirty it with his boots.

It’s just as sparsely furnished as the riders’ rooms, but you’ve added a few things to make it less austere. The stuffed bunny you’d carried around as a child and taken meticulous care of sits on your pillow, there’s a neat row of tiny nail polish bottles on the desk — and a small piece of paper there among your books.

You hand it to him, chewing your lip. “I just thought you were being overdramatic about it to be funny, but…” You watch his eyes flick back and forth as he reads through it, and you make a second, sickening realization. “I don’t know how he figured out which room is mine,” you whisper. “All of my healer friends think he’s crazy, so they definitely wouldn’t tell him. And you’re the only other person who knows, besides the leadership.”

He looks up from the paper, his jaw clenching. 

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this,” you whisper, holding back tears. “Hey,” he soothes, dropping the anger completely. “Don’t apologize. None of this was your fault.”

“Maybe it was,” you say softly. “Maybe I was too nice to him, did something to make him think I liked him…”

“Whether or not you were nice to him, he should have taken no for an answer the first time,” he says firmly. 

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. I told him about you, because I thought that would finally get him to stop, but I think that might have made it worse. I don’t want him to go after you.”

“I’ll be fine. Nobody else is allowed into the rider’s quadrant, and even if we crossed paths, I could totally take him in a fight,” he says with a half-smile — it doesn’t make you feel any better. “C’mere.” 

You step forward without hesitation, letting him gather you into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. The leather of his jacket is cold against your cheek.

“I promised you we would get you through this, and I’m not going to quit. Is Nolon here today? Or the head healer?”

You shake your head. “No. I never know when they’ll be around. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Then tomorrow, you and I will talk to them about what’s going on, and see what he can do about it. I’ll meet you in the infirmary, like always. Bring the letter with you.”

“Okay,” you sniff, worrying the little flower back and forth between your fingers nervously. “Thank you, Sy.”

He reaches up to cradle your cheek, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “Of course, sweet girl. You know I’d do anything for you.”

You nod silently, leaning into his palm. He lingers there a moment, until you hear the muffled chime of the tower bells. “You should go,” you say quietly. “I don’t want you to be late.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he soothes. “Are you going to be okay for the night?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

He gives you one last little squeeze before he pulls away. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hum in response, silent as you watch him leave.

Tomorrow. You just have to make it to tomorrow.

[jedipoodoo]

The Other Woman (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: miscommunication Trope, Hunter is a Girl Dad™, single fatherhood is hot, how can you hate Omega?? Tbh this is kinda goofy lol.

"Ah, kriff."

Hunter glanced at the glow of his comm and leaped off the couch, running around your house to grab his jacket and his shoes.

"Hunter?" you paused the holo film as he put his shoe on the wrong foot, and quickly had to change it.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced between you and the glow of the holo screen, with his hands held out as if to placate you.

"I am so sorry, I gotta go, my girl's expecting me."

You blinked once. Twice. Then there was a rushing in your ears as your entire world crumpled around you.

"Your...girl?" you asked, fists digging into the cushions of your couch. You had spent months flirting with Hunter, agonizing over whether of not he might like you back. When he asked you if you'd like a date, your heart soared to the moons and beyond. For reasons beyond you, you had invited him into your house, cooked him dinner, only to crash back down to the ground and find out he had someone else.

Hunter was completely oblivious to your sudden moral panic as he started talking about "his girl".

"She's brilliant, kinder than anyone I've ever met, and smart as a whip."

"Glad she's such a catch," You snapped, getting up and marching over to the door.

Hunter finally recognized the anger, radiating off you in waves.

"Is everything alright?"

You barked a humorless laugh.

"Is everything alright? You tell me, Mr. Dark-and-broody! Being in a relationship with multiple people at the same time may have been simple enough during the war, but not here! Not with me!"

His face fell.

"Oh right! I forgot, they didn't teach you any of that on Kamino." It was a particularly cruel barb, but you didn't care. You wanted Hunter to feel as utterly humiliated as you did right now.

"I... I don't understand..." Hunter mumbled, wringing his jacket in his hands.

"Let me spell it out for you then, Sergeant," You slammed the release on your front door and it hissed open, "Get out. Your girl may be okay with this, but I won't play second fiddle to anyone, not in this kind of relationship."

The only sound was the chittering of the sea crickets, a mournful melody that echoed the crestfallen look on Hunter's face. When he didn't move, you pointed him emphatically out the door. The moment he crossed the threshold, you shut and locked the door.

Then you collapsed into a ball and cried.

Did it amuse the force to play with your love life like this? You'd never had the courage to say yes to a date before. You were the kind of kid that got asked out only for it to turn out to be a joke.

Hunter was different. Hunter was supposed to be different. Everyone in the marketplace would talk him up all the time, from his heroics during the war, to the hard work he put in to help rebuild the island. You couldn't believe your good fortune at last when he asked you out.

Of course it was too good to be true.

You cried, curled up at the edge of the doorway until your spine began to protest. Even with all the energy drained out of you so furiously, you knew your bed would be a much more comfortable place to cry on. And there was still ice cream left in the fridge.

You ended up sleeping in the next morning. You didn't mean to. You woke up with your alarm first, but every part of you was just so sore and you were so exhausted, you just had to close your eyes for a few minutes.

A few minutes turned into a few hours.

It was noon when you finally made it to your noodle stall in the Archium, right next to Pilate's ice cone stand.

"You're late," The older man chuckled good naturedly as you started a fresh batch of pasta, "Your gentleman friend was here early this morning, waiting for you."

You tried not to grimace at the mention of Hunter. Your eyes were still red, but a wide rimmed hat hid that fact from your neighbors.

"Is he still here?"

"No, he left about an hour ago, said something about meeting an Omega."

Ah, so that was her name. You dped the hot water into your drain, not caring that it splashed everywhere.

"Everything alright?" Pilate asked.

"Peachy."

When you refused to elaborate, Pilate stopped pushing. It was lunch hour, so you soon had a line of customers stretching out around the Archium. You plastered on your customer service face and thanked all of them for their patronage, despite the anger that you held in your chest. It was shockingly easy to pretend you were perfectly fine when you had so many emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

For starting your day late, you were making a pretty decent profit. After the first couple of hours, business slowed down, but it would be just as busy during the dinner hour, and you had a few regulars that would pop in for an afternoon snack from time to time.

Lyanna Hazard was one such regular. She skipped up to your stall hand-in-hand with a new friend you hadn't met before.

"Hello girls! How can I help you today?" you asked.

"Four shrimp dumplings, please!" Lyanna placed her pocket money on the counter.

"Coming right up!" You ladled the dumplings from fry pit into two bowls, and set them in front of the girls. As you reached for the chopsticks so that they could eat, Lyanna's friend grabbed one with her bare hand

"It's hot!" she yelped, tossing the dumpling from one hand to the other in surprise.

Lyanna giggled, "That's why you use chopsticks, silly!"

Lyanna demonstrated, and her friend watched her, fascinated. With the dumpling balanced precariously on her chopsticks, she tentativelytook a tiny bite.

"Mmm!" she declared. She ravenously finished her dumplings while you laughed, rolling out pasta dough to make more dumplings.

"It's always a pleasure to see someone enjoy my food," You told her.

"It's amazing! My brother told me you were a good cook, but this is even better than I could've imagined!" she said.

"Oh really, who's your brother?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the universe answered for her.

"Omega!"

You couldn't help the glare that involuntarily tugged on your face when you heard his voice. You spotted the offender halfway across the Archium, looking around, but to your absolute horror, Lyanna's new friend began to wave him over.

"Over here, Hunter!" She called, one hand cupped around her mouth.

You saw his shoulders relax for a moment, and then tense up again. It was the same spooked, father-in-headlights look that he gave you last night when you kicked him out. You wanted to shrivel up and die.

Lyanna and Omega missed this completely, however, and kept waving at Hunter. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, but he begrudgingly trudged across the marketplace to your stall.

"Heya kids," He said, not quite looking at you.

"Hunter, you gotta try the dumplings!" Omega said, showing him her empty bowl.

"I have," Hunter said. It was part of the meal you'd made for him the night before. You thought you saw him glance at you, but you couldn't be sure. You were determined to stay angry at him, but those gorgeous brown eyes of his were going to be the death of you.

"Well, I'll see you all around then."

You turned your back on them, going back to the filling for the dumplings. You heard Lyanna talking excitedly to Omega about a few more stalls where they could get more food, and when you heard their voices fade away you assumed that all three of them had left.

There were a few moments of blessed silence, but Hunter cleared his throat, and you jumped in surprise.

"I need to talk to you."

You glared at him.

"I have nothing to say to you." you snapped.

"Then don't say anything but just listen-"

"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't-"

"I don't have another partner!" He said quickly.

You blinked, surprised.

"Omega's my little sister. She's my girl. She's who I had to get back to that night." to prove it, he pulled up his comm, sliding it across the table towards you.

You stared at him, suspicious. But you looked at the screen anyway.

Omega: Hunter, when is your date done?

Hunter: we're finishing a movie, kid.

Omega: I can't fall asleep. And Wrecker doesn't sing the Purrgill song as good as you do :(

Hunter: I told you I'd be gone tonight. I'll come say goodnight when I get back.

Omega: :(

You sighed. Omega was very sweet, and you couldn't imagine trying to say no to her on a daily basis.

"I am... So sorry..." You couldn't look at him, sliding his comm back across the countertop.

Hunter said nothing, but placed a hand over yours, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. That should've been one of the first things I told you.

He sighed, "I guess... I'm just not used to sharing everything, especially with new people."

"You're not obligated to share everything with me, you have a right to your privacy."

"I've been a soldier my entire life, and now, I'm trying to figure out how to be anything but. I was talking with Phee and she gave me an earful about how if I'm trying to date or get close to someone, I gotta make my priorities clear."

Hunter looked over his shoulder at Omega. She and Lyanna were at Pilate's stall now, trying to see how many scoops of flavored ice they could stack in one bowl.

"Omega's a good kid, but she hasn't had much of an opportunity to be one. My brothers and I aren't exactly model parents, but we're trying our best to give her the life she deserves."

You nodded, "That's admirable of you."

If you felt humiliated last night, it was nothing compared to the embarrassment you felt now. You'd insulted Hunter when all he was trying to do was take care of his little sister, which, if you thought about it, made him even more attractive than the tattoo and the eyes already did.

"All this to say, your reaction is completely justified with the information you had, and if you're willing, I'd like to try again."

He held out a hand to you, "Let me take you out on a proper date, to make up for all this."

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, "I should be asking how I can make this up for you," You insisted.

"Nonsense, you cooked and cleaned and everything and I tried to cut it short. Let me sweep you off your feet."

You raised one eyebrow. That sounded almost nothing like what he'd usually say.

He winced, "Yeah, I realized it the moment I said it. Phee told me that's what I should do, though I have no idea how to."

You giggled, "That's okay, I'd like that, though."

Hunter's eyes went wide, and you could almost melt into the cobblestones. "That's a yes? You're saying yes?"

"Yes," You giggled some more, and stepped out of your stall to speak face to face.

"I'd love to be swept off my feet by you, so long as it means you forgive me for being a poodoo-head."

"You are not a poodoo-head." Hunter said, placing his hand on your cheek, "You're a brilliant person, and I'd like to get to know you much better than I do now."

You flushed, from his words or his touch, you weren't sure, but you didn't entirely mind it.

You coughed to clear your throat. "So, Mr. Hunter, when should I plan on you picking me up?"

Hunter glanced at your stall, and back to you, "How soon can you close up shop?"

You grinned. You might have gotten a late start, but he didn't need to know that. He could make up for it in his own way.

"For you, Hunter? Right away."

[hopeluna-archived]

totally not like a personal experience or anything but is it ok if i request the obey me bros + dateables (whether or not you wanna add luke is up to you bc this is a sfw request so the little chihuahua baby can be in it) with an mc who always had to fight just to have someone just pay attention to them? i mean like having to repeat their words, call out the name of the person theyre talking to, constantly ask if theyre still paying attention to what theyre saying, etc. (bonus points if they also feel like no one even really likes what they do have to say once they get someones attention)

!! MC who always had to fight just to have someone pay attention to them | obey me

A/N: totally not writing this out of personal experience or anything hahahaha

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Diavolo

CW: hurt/comfort, mostly comfort tho, mentions of neglect and feelings of not being "enough", lemme know if there is anything else!

m.list

Lucifer

Lucifer is quite perceptive and notices this. He has never had an issue with this himself because when he talks, he commands the room, willing everybody to listen. And he'll do the same with you, even if you might not notice it. Any person daring to speak over you gets shut down pretty quickly by Lucifer's stare.

Mammon

Mammon understands this. He's had to deal with fighting for making his voice heard pretty much all the time. When he notices you do the same, he's hurt. How can someone not listen to your words?? No matter what he's doing, he always makes sure to give his full attention to you when you're talking and how can he not? Your voice sounds too heavenly to ignore <3

Leviathan

Levi doesn't catch on to this at first till someone, probably Satan, points it out one day. He feels pathetic that you feel this way because he, himself has felt this way too many times to count. He always got upset about how people would tune out his ramblings. He feels worse when he realizes you have never done it yet you face that too with other people.

Satan

Satan's pissed. More than usual. How dare people ignore you when he looks at you like you hung the stars everytime you're talking? Satan notices this very early on and is already thinking of ways to torture every single person who decided to makes you feel any less. He will literally stare into their soul when you are talking as a way of warning them.

Diavolo

Diavolo's heart breaks whenever he sees the crestfallen look on your face at someone ignoring you. He might be a goof but he still notices these little things and is quite upset and confused at how someone could ever not hang on to every words you utter. He thought it was absolutely normal to look at you in adoration every time you talk?

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 6 - Crestfallen~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: The arrival of a few new guests at the hotel ignites tension, prompting doubts about everyone's true intentions. Tempers rise and you're forced to make a decision about your future.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut, actual plot, slow burn, (possibly religious trauma if you squint), and of course 18+

2.5k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 (You're on it!) Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

It’s been two weeks since you spent that single evening with Alastor, and you’ve slept like complete shit every single night since. The first few were expected as your body was still healing but there was no excuse for the days that followed. Other than the desire to be near him.

It didn’t help that you were beginning to get anxious about the new deal, wondering what he could possibly show you that would help expand your power. He made no mention of it over coffee or in passing. But with Extermination Day getting closer you felt the pressure to be better (now that you knew it was possible).

Like clockwork, Alastor walks into your room with the usual two cups of morning coffee, setting yours on the table. This whole ‘domestic’ side of the demon is something I could really get used to. “Glowing as usual my dear.” He says as he kisses your forehead and sits down on the bench at the end of the bed. Odd. No book? No newspaper? He just sits quietly, staring into his mug. His mind seems to be somewhere else this morning.

“Well good morning to you too. What has the mighty Radio Demon frazzled this morning?”

“Hm?” He hums, still not looking up at you. You frown. 

I know what will get his attention.

“That smile of yours doesn’t hide as much as you think it does…” as you speak, you pull yourself on his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck, “…at least not for me,”

A look of pleasant surprise crosses his face at your forwardness and his eyes snap to yours. Finally pulled away from his thoughts. 

Too easy.

“I am far from trying to hide anything darling,” he playfully runs his free hand up your thigh to your hip, resting it with firm grip on your waist, “However, you are correct in assuming my head is a little busier than usual. Charlie just informed me that her father will be making a visit to the hotel today.”

You practically fall out of Alastor’s hold from how fast you jolt up at the news. “I’m sorry…LUCIFER is coming today? You didn’t think that was important information to give me first thing this morning?”

He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “I would have told you eventually.”

Rolling your eyes at his nonchalant attitude, you quickly get dressed and head down to the lobby. Everyone was bustling around the hotel to get it prepared for the King of Hell’s arrival. You track down Charlie to ask what you can do and quickly get busy helping the others.

When Charlie answers the door, you catch a peek of the King for the first time and he’s…much shorter than you expected however still strikingly handsome. He was said to be the most beautiful of the angels before his fall. You are just finishing hanging a banner on the stairway when you overhear Alastor’s voice talking with everyone. Making your way down the stairs you catch the end of an apparently heated conversation.

“- well it’s not very clever!”

“Ha – ha! Fuck you.”

“ALRIGHT!” You and Charlie chime at the same time. She takes Lucifer’s shoulder to pull him towards the rest of the group and you wrap your hand on Alastor’s forearm. “What the fuck is your problem?” you scold. He jerks your hand off his arm without a second glance.

Oh we are going to be pissy today?

“And this is our newest resident but with her progress I feel like she’s bound to be our first successful transfer! She’s got a heart of gold!” Charlie beams at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say extending out a hand for a handshake.

Lucifer takes your hand and pecks your knuckles. “Yes, wonderful to meet you as well.” As he looks up he pauses, and a confused look crosses his face. You share an equally confused look while trying to pry your hand back from him. Charlie regains his attention, “Sooo dad there is so much to see –“ she trails off and you walk over to the bar.

“Trouble in paradise?” Husk pokes. If looks could kill, yours would have buried him another six feet under. Taking the hint, he pours you a double of your usual. You hear him mutter a hasty ‘sorry’ when he hands you the glass.

As you baby your drink some girl barges into the hotel, practically throwing herself onto Alastor. I really wish that didn’t bother me as much as it does. Noticing your face twist in annoyance, Husk leans over the bar to your ear, “It’s just Mimzy. She’s trouble, but not in the way you think. I’ll talk to Al in a bit.” You nod, watching her walk over to chat up Husk and Angel. Irritated by the events of the day so far, you excuse yourself to your room.

Halfway up the stairs to realize you don’t actually want to go sulk in your room, so instead you leisurely wander the halls lost in thought. Why is Alastor wrapped so fucking tight over Lucifer being here? Really showing his true colors.

You blindly make the first turn down the hall and knock heads with Lucifer who swiftly wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. You grasp at his shoulders for balance. “Fuck I’m so so so sorry – I was lost in my thoughts.”

“No no that was all me. I also was lost in my thoughts. Are you alright?” his voice was honey, sweetened even more by his soft smile.  

“Yes, thank you. So sorry again – uhm where are your tour guides?”

“I evaded them to look around for myself. However, I am quite glad to have run into you, literally.” He chuckles at himself. Even his laugh is smooth. No wonder this man corrupted not one but two women with ease.

You wrinkle your brows, “Any reason in particular or…?”

“I just was hit with the strangest feeling when we met, and I wanted to ask. Are you…” his voice drops, “fallen?”

You push him away, realizing you are still holding onto each other. “Oh goodness no, I died and ended up straight here. I joke that I just wasn’t one of God’s favorites, even after living ‘by the book’ as they say.” A nervous laugh bubbles out of you but Lucifer looks more empathetic than amused.

“Charlie was right, if this whole redemption thing is even possible, you’d –“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” You ask quietly. 

He steps closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I just see how bright your soul is –“

“Don’t….say that.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Lucifer was on the verge of tears with how he is looking at you right now. “It must be so painful to be surrounded by such horrible sinners. Redemption would mean –“

“Lucifer please…” you beg with him, feeling your emotions start to take over. Why is he prodding this subject so hard?

“My dear Heaven can make mistakes, even if they’ll never admit it.”

“Enough!” You jerk away from him, causing him to step back in a stunned silence. “It’s ridiculous how the devil himself can see my soul is good yet THEY sent me here without a second thought. My love and my kindness and how I lived righteously on Earth meant NOTHING to them! Heaven didn’t want me so why the fuck would I want to go begging at their gate!?” Your cheeks grow hot as tears begin to pour from your eyes. Why am I crying over this RIGHT NOW?

Lucifer grabs you and pulls you to his chest, turning your tears into full sobs muffled by his coat. You drop to your knees and he kneels with you, tightening his embrace. “I’m sorry,” He breathes, “I understand more than anyone the pain you feel. But I also sense how powerful you’ve become here. Charlie is so lucky to have a friend like you.”

You look up abruptly through bloodshot eyes, taken back by the comment. He laughs at your stunned expression, “I’m Lucifer, THE devil – you really think I wouldn’t know something was up? Don’t worry, I understand the danger if you’re not careful with who you surround yourself -”  

“What did you do to her!?” Alastor’s enraged voice resonates through hotel walls as he rushes over to pull you away from Lucifer. He grabs your arm, yanking you up off your knees. Some timing this guy has.

“Ouch – stop! He didn’t do anything. We ran into each other and just got –“ you try to reason with the increasingly furious demon but it falls on deaf ears. His antlers grow and body starts to stretch over the already smaller body of Lucifer.

“I don’t care if you’re the King of Hell, you touch her again and I’ll take pleasure in ripping those puny arms off your body!”

“Alastor calm down – he was helping me if anything!”

Lucifer stands up, ignoring the threats, but then a realization hits him. He looks at you equally baffled and disgusted. “No….Oh no my dear, you aren’t actually serious, right? All the sinners in Hell and you choose him?” 

“What the fuck does that mean!?” you and Alastor angrily shout in unison.  

Charlie and Vaggie come down the hall to see the tense scene. In classic Charlie fashion, she nervously tries to deescalate the situation, “Oh hey dad! THERE you are! Let’s continue the tour on a different floor, shall we?”

A sudden force hits the hotel, causing the entire building to shake. Looking outside you see several loan shark demons trying to force their way in and yelling for Mimzy. Guess Husk was right about her being trouble. Alastor snaps his head to you, keeping a rigid grip on your arm, “Radio tower. NOW.” he barks. Without waiting for your response, he shrinks into his shadow while the others run down to the lobby.

You walk into the radio tower and look outside in time to watch the last of the sharks being eaten. Maybe that’ll help him blow off some steam from today. Get his shit untwisted enough to actually talk to me. You pace the tower, taking in all the knobs and wires that strewed across the front where he sat every night. Alastor never invited you into his tower and you never felt the need to visit. So why did he ask demand me to come in here instead of his room?

“Feel any better, asshole?” you bite as soon as your ears start to ring.

A chill runs down your spine when he materializes right behind you. “You’d be wise to watch your tone.” He growls threateningly.

You turn to face him, “I’m sorry? My tone? Would you like a reminder of how shitty you’ve been towards me all day? And the whole Lucifer thing, the fuck is your problem with – “ his hand grasps at your throat, holding firm enough to startle you. You look up at him in shock and stare into his glowing red eyes.

“My problem with the King of Hell is none of your concern. However, I quite dislike how easily he got so close to you, my dear. Did you enjoy his hands on you? Did he whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Telling you how wonderful it is that you use your little powers for good?” His words drip with malice as he holds you in place. This was what you always expected from him yet somehow it hurt worse now, after everything you’d gone through together. His last sentence is all you needed to hear to trigger every worry you’ve had since the first deal.

You push yourself away from his grip. Resentment and hurt tightens painfully in your chest. This is it, this is where I need to turn off every emotion I ever thought I've felt for him. You straighten your body and try to speak calmly, “You’re angry because you think he wanted to take me…my power…to use elsewhere, aren’t you? This isn’t about him putting hands on me or you being jealous in that sense, oh noooooo - You thought he was trying to convince me to do his bidding rather than yours, THAT’S why you’re upset isn’t it?”

Static fills the air and he seethes at your words. He moves towards you but you step back out of his reach. You feel his shadow try to grab your legs but you conjure your needles, peppering them across the wood floor to chase it off. “Don’t touch me! It’s true, isn’t it?” Your eyes ignite with anger to hide your tears.

“I believe I made it very clear in the beginning this was about the power but – “ his voice drops and smile fades.  

“What? But WHAT Alastor?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to step towards you again, speaking with a quiet but fierce tone, “Please, I need you to believe me when I say – “

“BELIEVE YOU? Do you hear yourself? This whole ruse of trusting each other, being drawn to each other, wanting to HELP me – it was all for your personal gain! You want nothing from me other than the power I can give you. Well forget it, I told you I wasn’t going to be some PET of yours. Our deals are OVER.” Pulling your hand up, you see the pink and green entwined string that connected you to Alastor. Your chest pangs as it snaps apart, fading into the dust of the tower.

His static cuts out and an eerie stillness falls over the room. In the dim glow of the tower you can only make out his silhouette and red eyes. You stand perfectly still, preparing for him to retaliate, lunge, attack, yell, anything. But he doesn’t. Neither of you move nor speak. After what feels like an hour of silence, Alastor melts into his shadow and disappears out of the room.

You drop to your knees in agony.

Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show.

A wave of pain burns through your body as though your heart was just ripped out of your chest.

Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close.

How could I be so stupid to think we could work together?

Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have.

That he could actually care about me?

Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord.

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone

[aayakashii]

32 🔪 and 25🔪 for Jiro? I can't really see him calling someone pet names but I can see him mistaking obsessive feelings for scholar curiosity and maybe borderline stalking.

25🔪 “I know everything about you.”

32 🔪 “I’ve always been watching you, beloved”

Warning: yandere behavior, nsfw, masturbation

Jiro could see you with his eyes closed. Much like when you ask someone to picture an apple, in order to diagnose their level of aphantasia, if anyone asked him to close his eyes and picture anything to a level of near-perfection, he would picture you.

He knew every single detail of you. He kept notes on it, in fact. Notebooks upon notebooks of information about you. A stack of paper way thicker than your official patient file, because he included information that definitely did not need to be used when going through an anamnesis.

Sure, he duly noted the usual data. He knew about your health history, your family’s health history, your past medical records, your personal information and every symptom you may have ever had during his care. But hey, that’s to be expected - he was making daily check-ups on you after all.

However, he also knew which drinks you’d buy on a daily basis, your favorite little snacks and how often you’d bite your nails.

He knew how much caffeine you ingested everyday, the way you sighed loudly when you were tired and how you flipped your hair when you were annoyed.

He knew you hummed when you showered, he knew you mumbled when you slept and he knew the placement of every little mole and scar on your body.

Jiro knew everything about you. And a forgotten, mostly silent part of himself felt a bubbling pride over being the only one who could claim that.

He didn’t know who he was before his coma. He lost most memories and unlearned how to feel. Others would call him a mere husk of a human being, something incomplete, and Yuri seemed to find this greatly insulting; Jiro, however, would only blink. He didn’t know what it was to be or not to be human. What made anyone more human than the others, after all? Philosophy became much more of a hassle to understand after he woke up after all those months being half-dead.

But he knew that, amidst the muddled haze of emotions and thoughts, he had one purpose in that new life of his, besides being a doctor’s assistant - and that was to watch you. Something deep in his gut pushed him towards you.

His eyes would follow you everywhere and his feet would take him to your room. He rummaged through your things, analyzed your habits, and read your notes and diaries. He knew he should feel shame over invading your privacy, but there was none (or so he murmured to himself as he rubbed his own face, wiping off a smirk from his lips).

Jiro read all about your fear of mutating into something unknown and that, actually, he could understand. He wouldn’t be able to observe you if you became an anomaly, after all. He needed to find a way to keep you as you are.

He would also go through that one hidden basket, filled with your dirty clothes. He’d always grab one of your shorts and smell it like an addict and something inside him would stir. It was very interesting, he thought, how a rush of blood could feel so pleasant. His hurried hands would push his pants down until his cock was freed, and he would smell you again, wrapping his hand around his length, throwing his head back until breathy moans slipped from his lips. It was good, it felt so good to thrust against his own hand as he suffocated himself with the scent of you. It felt so good, so so good to drench your floorboards with his cum, to mark his presence in your room with stains you’d never see. It felt so good to know you’d sleep with him, in a way.

Gasping for breath, he would watch through the window as you walked in the distance, tired and crestfallen, towards your dorm.

It was always the same thing, everyday. Everyday at 5PM, he’d put everything back in place and slip away, unnoticed, with more of you in his mind - more to write down on his notes.

And the next day, it would be the same thing, all over again. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Yuri and him needed to work harder, he mused. He needed to keep up with his routine.

He has been and would always be watching you, after all, in spite of death.

Full masterlist

[tamelee]

pls bottom naruto is disgusting stop drawing this ooc cringe

Eh? And it hadn't even been a full day.

Anyway, do you know what this means?:

It means… that I don’t give a damn about your whiny gibberish about this top/bottom bullshit, because it sounds incredibly silly. (And wrong because I draw both?)

It’s fine to have a preference, good for you (I have one too!), but if all you care about between a character-dynamic is the single notion which establishes a rule within a fandom that demands only this particular dick in only that particular booty and nothing else, while dividing yourselves between "us and them" while seeing the people who like the same exact characters as your "enemy" and treating them as such— well, 

I have nothing to say to you, I couldn’t care less what you think about me and I don’t know you. 

But for the sake of other creators who are often a target also, some which I know quit because of this… there is a little something I'd like to say about these servers:

You don’t think I (we) know what is said in there and by who? 👀 That your rules of "what is said on here stays here" with a bunch of people online that you don't know, is actually respected? Why do you think I never join any. And bet your ass that I'm not the only one. This constant fighting between NS/SN is such an embarrassment for this fandom, seriously. I hope you realize that.

Because, instead of encouraging a (new) creator to share something about the characters you claim to love (for fucking free) you go off chastise them for not “doing it right”/“your way”, pretending it's some unspoken commission no one knew of or was paid for. Instead of being happy there’s still so much creative contribution for characters from a story that ended years ago, you go complain under fanfics and dishearten writers, often grinning away with your little server-“friends” and make fun of work someone poured their heart in. Or, you huff, puff and breathe fire as you make plans to cancel them out of pure bitterness, to the point (especially new) creators are too scared and dispirited to ever share anything again. It's easy to do anonymously, aye? And if you think that doesn’t affect their lives and sends them right back into a crestfallen pit of dark hell because it prevents them to do/share the single thing in life that gave them a bit of joy, then...

Congratulations; you’re a heartless bastard.

And you, as a fan, did yourself dirty too.

Do you know how many people don’t want to share anything at all for this fandom because you people leave comments, tags, asks, tweets constantly complaining about an incorrect portrayal of the (in your opinion) only acceptable dynamic, like a bunch a brats? Do you? Because I’ve talked to quite a few of these discouraged creators, they have to hope for the best and pray they’re spared from your scrutiny. I receive it from both sides every now and then.

Again, congratulations: you’re the reason there’s less chance of you getting what you want in the first place. 

Do you... really not realize?

The more you squabble with "your enemy" (lol) the more it affects the "us" you care about while the rest of us just bask in the glory that is SNS/NSN and couldn't care less about what you think/have to say. So, keep everyone else out of it and go mope elsewhere.

But, between you and me? There are better ways to share what you think is right. Make something yourself, because what's stopping you?

You’re perfectly capable, it doesn’t have to be art or a fic, maybe there’s just something in the story that you really enjoyed— write about it. Make a meta. Post the panel, show the moment that determined your undying love for this single dynamic and why— whatever.  Because, wouldn't it be nice having someone encourage you to create something you like? 😬 Especially because you and your server feel so strongly about it? And then you don't have to depend on others either?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Well?

Hm!?

Try it, ffs.

[ddarker-dreams]

do you have any more yan golden girl thoughts you can share 🤲 i am devouring them every single time

ohhh boy ohhhhh man.... it really is something... here are some yan branch ideas (from their high school years).

(reader here is described as fem, satoru and suguru are gaslit gatekeep girlboss-ing their way into making you their girlfriend)

for starters, satoru and suguru handle the kaizu incident much worse. what little tact they have in the main storyline is gone lol. this has short-term success and long-term consequences. rather than giving you the time to recover and reflect, suguru sneakily introduces guilt. he stresses that you should've told them that you can't perform cursed technique: null without hurting yourself in the process. had they known, they would've found another way.

then there's satoru. he just starts coming along on your assignments. if you get annoyed and tell him to quit following you, he seemingly concedes. that is, until every time you arrive at your assignment's destination, you find him lounging around, having already exorcised the curse. while you're recovering from his audacity, he's making dinner plans, brochure in hand. he's pointing at a famous local restaurant instead of acknowledging your frustration.

"you took forever to get here," he'll lament with a yawn. "i was so bored. ready to ditch this place?"

they safeguard you from any danger at the cost of eroding your relationship.

you came here to learn, to grow in strength and potential. how can you do that under these circumstances? suguru interferes behind the scene so you’re given less assignments, satoru tags along uninvited for the few you manage to land. it’s frustrating and demotivating. trying to get them to see reason is akin to arguing with a brick will. satoru waves off your frustrations whereas suguru listens. in a way, this is almost worse. suguru gives the false impression that you might be changing his mind. he’ll nod along as you vent, his countenance solemn and his voice soft. he’ll validate your smaller plights while twisting your perspective on the most pressing issues. you come away from the interactions unsure of what to feel.

are you making a big deal of things? is satoru just expressing concern in his weird why? maybe they could be handling it better, but it isn’t like their intentions are malicious, you did almost die in front of them… etc etc. the seeds of self-doubt blossom until they’ve made your mind a garden.

then there’s the whole ‘you're our girlfriend now’ bit that deserves mention. satoru kicked it off and suguru went with it. you didn’t think much of it at first, especially since they both conveniently forgot to fill you in on this major development. after showering, you’ll leave the restroom to find satoru sitting on your bed in his slacks, acting like it’s the most normal thing. they stand on either side of you when you’re traveling by train. suguru’s hand finds yours when navigating busy crowds, his grip gentle while also communicating he won’t let you slip away.

you only find out that you've apparently been their girlfriend for months when satoru complains about the lack of a first kiss. when you understandably express your confusion, he coos over how you're 'acting shy.' suguru isn't much help. he opts for the gaslight route.

"you forgot the evening where we...?" he'll begin, visibly crestfallen. "but i thought... ah, never mind... no, it's nothing, really..."

(the 'evening' in question does not exist, he's trying to confuse you so you're more willing to accept this bombshell).