#except she's saying the quiet parts out loud

[crehador]

she would do so well on here

[sosa2imagines]

My doll...

Disclaimer- Something my pervert brain thought about, I hope you all enjoy. Warning- Soft dark Bucky, smut, possessiveness, jealousy, 5.3k words.

Bucky Barnes had always been a man of few words. A soldier by nature, a soldier by habit. But it was something about you that had always made him feel like he was at a crossroads with himself, like his life could go one way or another depending on whether or not he could ever find the courage to speak up.

The first time he realized he was in love with you, it wasn’t a dramatic moment. There were no bells, no grand gestures. It wasn’t like he had a clear, defining thought of this is it. It was quieter than that. He was sitting next to you in the Avengers’ compound, watching you work on some new project you had thrown yourself into, fingers deftly moving over wires and circuits. Your brow furrowed in concentration, lips parted in that way that made him want to reach out and touch you.

He never had before, of course he was too afraid of ruining the friendship, too afraid of making things weird.

And that was how it had always been. Quiet. Unspoken.

But even with those feelings slowly building, Bucky stayed quiet. He watched you from the edges, from the safety of his distance, telling himself that if you ever really loved him, you’d say it first. He couldn’t risk the possibility of losing you altogether. So, he waited. And waited. And waited.

Tonight, was supposed to be like any other. A rare night off from their duties. No mission on the horizon, no danger lurking around every corner. The team wasn’t together, except for you. You suggested going to a bar nearby for a drink and a break from the constant grind of life in the compound. Bucky had decided, almost reluctantly, to say yes.

Bucky had, of course, known you cared. In all the small moments, like how you would always check in on him, ask him about his dreams or how he was really feeling. And the way your eyes lingered on him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

I know you love me, he thought. I know it.

But Bucky never had the nerve to say it out loud. And now, here he was, sitting across from you at the bar, staring into his glass of whiskey, wishing he could just reach out and touch your hand without the world falling apart around him.

He was far too aware of how close you were, and yet how far away you still seemed.

You were laughing, your voice light and full of life. You always seemed to shine brighter when you were in this mood, the weight of the world lifted, even if only for a moment. But Bucky could see the flickers of doubt in your eyes. Could see the way you kept looking over at him, waiting for something.

Maybe tonight was the night you’d say it. Maybe tonight you’d do what Bucky couldn’t bring himself to do.

But as he watched you, a strange feeling began to take hold. A spark of jealousy. It was a ridiculous thing, he knew. But it wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about the way you looked at other people—it was about the way you looked at him and didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything.

It was then that a woman approached him.

Bucky didn’t want to be rude. He’d never been the type to just turn someone down, but when the woman slid onto the seat next to him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, he didn’t feel the usual discomfort. Instead, he felt an odd sense of power and control, maybe.

She was bold, confident. The way she laughed, the way she touched his arm, the way she spoke to him, it all felt like a challenge. A test. And before he could stop himself, he realized something. He wasn’t afraid of this woman. He wasn’t uncomfortable.

But you were.

He saw the way you stiffened in your seat, the way your smile faltered. You hadn’t said a word, but Bucky could tell, he knew. You were jealous.

And for some reason, that made his heart pound. A dark thought crept into his mind, ‘Maybe this is how it’ll happen. Maybe I can make you admit it. Maybe I can get you to finally say what we both know is true.’

The woman leaned in closer, her fingers brushing his. Her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered, “So, what do you say? Care to dance?”

Bucky glanced at you once more. You were still staring at him, but now, there was a mix of frustration and hurt in your eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He should stop this. He should turn away. But a dangerous impulse surged through him.

“Sure.” he said, standing up without another word, letting the woman take his hand and pull him toward the dance floor.

He could hear your breath hitch from across the room. He could feel your gaze burning and intense. But he didn’t break. Not yet.

They moved in close as the music shifted, her body pressed against his. It was all a game now, a game Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to play but couldn’t help himself from continuing. Every move he made, every gesture, was designed to make you feel something. To make you feel what he had felt for so long ‘the ache.’ The longing. The desperate desire for something more.

But as they danced, his thoughts were on you. Only you. And all the ways he had hurt you without ever realizing it.

You were standing now, getting your things, heading for the door. And Bucky’s chest clenched as he realized something. He couldn’t let you go. Not like this. Not anymore.

“We are done!” he said to the woman, his voice sharp as he brushed past her, heading toward you.

The cool night air hit him as he caught up to you just outside the bar.

“Doll, wait,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn around, didn’t even slow down. “I’m going back to the compound, Bucky. I’m done.” Your voice was quiet, but it was laced with finality. “I’m done pretending. Done watching you with her.”

“I’m going back to the compound,” you repeated, your voice a little too calm, too controlled. “I need to clear my head. I think I’ll go check in with Steve.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the shift in the air. Bucky froze.

You hadn’t expected it, Bucky was always so controlled, so guarded. But there was something in his eyes now. Something darker. The breath you’d taken in to steady yourself suddenly caught in your throat.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was low, tight with barely contained emotion. His grip on your wrist tightened, and you could see his jaw clench, the muscles beneath his skin rippling with barely restrained anger. “You’re going back to Steve?”

You nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze. You had no idea why, but you couldn’t meet his eyes right now. Maybe it was because you could feel his anger building, and it made you uneasy.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound indifferent, but even to your own ears, the words felt hollow. “I’ll be fine, Bucky. I just need some space.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip on your wrist tightened, pulling you back toward him. His eyes locked onto yours, and there was something in the depths of his gaze something primal that made your breath catch.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, his voice rough, his tone clipped. “You’re not going back to Steve. Never ever!”

His hand moved to your other wrist, and before you could protest, he spun you around, backing you up against the cold brick wall of the alley. You gasped at the suddenness of it, the sharp heat of his body pressing against you. The force of it left you breathless, but it wasn’t just the physical contact that left you feeling winded, it was the storm swirling in Bucky’s eyes.

“I don’t care about your games, doll,” Bucky continued, his voice now a dangerous whisper. “I don’t care if you’re trying to protect yourself or play it safe. You don’t get to walk away from this. Not after all these months. Not after I’ll final say what I should’ve said the first goddamn time I saw you.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as Bucky’s breath came faster now, his face inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the anger and frustration practically crackling in the air between you. His hand was on the wall next to your head, caging you in, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to hold you there, to make you listen.

“Don’t you dare go back to Steve!” he snarled. “I know what you’re trying to do. I know what you’re hiding from. But don’t you dare tell me you’re choosing him. Not when we both know what’s between us.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a jolt of panic rising up in your chest. You had to get away from him, from this. But somehow, the words felt wrong. He was right. Something had shifted tonight, everything had shifted tonight. And the more you tried to run from it, the more you realized that you were just as tangled up in it as he was.

You shook your head, trying to pull away from his grip. “Bucky, stop. Just stop.”

But he didn’t. His hand moved from the wall to your face, cupping your jaw with surprising gentleness. His thumb stroked over your skin, the touch almost tender despite the fury that was still burning in his eyes. It was like he was trying to hold on to you, trying to keep you from slipping away.

“I’ve spent months pretending I didn’t want you,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and raw. “I’ve spent months watching you with him, keeping my distance, telling myself it was enough just being close to you, just being around you. But it’s never been enough, Doll. It’s never been enough, and I can’t do it anymore.”

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world stood still.

You swallowed hard, fighting the surge of emotions that were building inside you, fighting the tears threatening to break free. You had never seen Bucky like this so raw, so vulnerable, so… angry. It terrified you, but in a way, it also made you realize just how deeply he cared for you. How much he had always cared for you.

His grip on your face tightened, but there was no anger in his eyes now, only something softer, something that made your heart beat even faster. “I don’t want to claim you, Doll. I want to have you. I want you to choose me.”

Before you could respond, Bucky’s lips crashed into yours again, desperate and urgent. It was no longer a question, no longer a plea. It was an answer. His hands slid to your back, pulling you into him with such force that you could feel his heart racing against yours.

The kiss was everything every unspoken word, every hidden desire, every emotion they had both kept buried for so long. Bucky was done hiding, done pretending, and as you kissed him back with equal fervor, you knew there was no going back from this.

“Don’t go back to him,” Bucky whispered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “I’m not letting you go.”

You didn’t know what to say. The words felt like they were stuck in your throat. You had always thought you’d have time to figure this out, but now that the truth was out there between you, out there between him, you knew that there was no more time for pretending. No more time for games.

You pressed closer to him, your hands threading through his hair as you kissed him again, and in that moment, you realized there was only one thing that truly mattered.

Bucky dragged you in the room at the backside of the bar.

Without warning, he pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours. His hands cup your face, holding your gaze captive.

He presses himself closer, one thigh between your legs. His hands move from your face to your hips, gripping them firmly. His lips graze your ear as he speaks, his voice a low grumble. “I'm going to show you exactly how much I want you, right here, right now.”

His mouth closes on your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. You feel his fingers slipping under the hem of your tee, tracing a path of fire along your waist. “I've wanted you for so long, you have no idea. Watching you, smelling your scent, feeling your touch... it's been driving me crazy.”

His lips move down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of hot kisses along the way. One of his hands moves up to cup your breast, his thumb gently circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra.

You let out a gasp, arching into his touch. Your body is responding to his every move, awakening a need you've kept buried for far too long. Bucky smiles against your skin, enjoying the way he's unraveling you piece by piece.

“You like that, don't you? Feeling my hands on you, my mouth on your skin.” He whispers in your ear before capturing your earlobe between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His other hand slides under your skirt, trailing up your thigh, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Your breath hitches, your legs growing weak as Bucky's touch becomes more and more brazen.

He chuckles lowly, satisfied to see you coming undone under his hands. “You're so responsive... so sensitive. I love seeing you like this, completely at my mercy.”

He spins you around, pressing your front against the wall. You feel his weight press into your back, his hands roaming everywhere, claiming you as his own.

“I'm going to make you mine, here and now. There's no stopping this, no denying what's been boiling between us for so damn long.”

His lips find the nape of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin. His free hand slides down your stomach, resting just at the waistband of your panties. The contact is almost too much, your mind reeling from the barrage of sensations.

“I want you so badly... Can I have you? Right here, right now?” He asks, his voice a deep, raspy whisper. He's poised on the edge, waiting for your answer, his body tense with anticipation.

You can't find the words to speak, too overwhelmed by the storm of emotions and sensations he's stirring within you. Instead, you respond by arching your back, pressing yourself against him, wordlessly signaling your consent.

Bucky lets out a guttural growl, the sound filling the air. He doesn't need anything more than that. His hands move with newfound urgency, peeling away the layers of fabric separating you from him.

He turns you around, his expression darkened with desire. He looks at you hungrily, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. His hands run up your sides, tracing the curves of your body, committing every detail to memory.

“You're so beautiful... So goddamn perfect.” His words are punctuated by small, lingering kisses along your collarbone, across your chest, down along your stomach. You're lost in the sensation, your body on fire under his touch.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, his lips continuing their exploration of your body. He kisses and nips at the tender skin of your inner thighs, teasing and tantalizing you with every touch.

“I want to taste you... I need to taste you...” He husks, his hands wrapping around your hips, pulling you closer. You can feel his breath on your core, hot and eager, making you shiver in anticipation.

His tongue darts out, tasting you lightly, just enough to send a rush of pleasure through you. You gasp, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him close. Bucky smiles against your flesh, enjoying how responsive you are to his ministrations.

He alternates between soft, almost chaste kisses and more firm, calculated licks. He's enjoying the taste of you, the sounds of your moans and gasps. His hands grip your thighs, holding you firm while his mouth works magic, making you moan obscenely.

“You taste so good... Better than I ever imagined.” He lifts his gaze, meeting your eyes. The raw hunger in his expression takes your breath away.

You want to speak, but your mind is a jumbles mess, unable to form a coherent word.

“You're driving me crazy, doll. I want to devour you, to make you mine in every way possible.”

And then he does. He dives in, his mouth devouring you in a frenzy of passion determined to bring you closer to the edge.

Your gasps turn into cries of pleasure, your body writhing under his skilful mouth.  Bucky's hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he brings you closer to your climax.

The world seems to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure Bucky is giving you. He's relentless, pushing you higher and higher, determined to give you more than you ever dreamed of.

His tongue works relentlessly, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh, anchoring you on the ground.

Just as your were about to come, Bucky suddenly pulls away, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire. He climbs to his feet, pinning you against the wall once again

“I need to be inside you... Now.”

He's barely able to get the words out, his voice thick with need. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss, his hands already pushing your skirt up around your waist.

His body presses against yours, the hard length of him rubbing against your core. You can feel the heat and strength of him, the evidence of his desire poking you.

“I need you, need this... I need you now..” He repeats the words like a mantra, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck, your ear.

He pulls you around, turning you to face the wall once again. You feel the cool surface against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body behind you.

“I'm not going to be gentle.” He warns, his hands gripping your hips, pulling them back against him.

You feel him against you, hard and eager, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hips move against yours, and you can feel just how much he wants you, how badly he needs you.

“Can you take it? Can you handle me like this?” He asks, one hand traveling up your spine, his fingers tracing the line of your vertebrae. His touch is demanding, possessive, but somehow still tender, as if he's afraid he'll hurt you.

You manage to nod, too far gone with pleasure to form words. Bucky lets out a low, satisfied sound, his mouth nipping at your shoulder as his hand slides around to your front.

He cups your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple, teasing and provoking.

“I'm going to take you, right here, just like this.” He growls, his hips pressing against yours.

You can feel him against you, his body poised and ready, the tip of his cock, teasing your entrance. “Are you ready for me?” He asks, his lips against your ear, his breath hot and urgent.

You can only manage a small, breathless moan in response, your body yearning for him to take you, to make you his own.

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me... That you need me...” His words are a needy, almost desperate plea, his self-control hanging by a thread.

You find your voice, forcing the words out despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “I want you... I need you... Please...”

“That's all I needed to hear.” The words are a rough, guttural grunt, the last vestiges of his restraint snapping. He positions himself behind you, the head of him rubbing against your entrance.

His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place. He's so close, so very close... But still, he waits, wanting to make sure you're ready for the next step.

“Just tell me if it's too much, okay? If I go too far, I want to know.” He whispers the words, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability, a hint of doubt, despite the powerful, animalistic way he's holding you.

You nod, your body thrumming with anticipation. You trust him, trust him not to hurt you, and that trust makes all the difference. You push back against him, signaling your readiness in the most primal way possible.

He lets out a low, gravelly moan, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He needs this as much as you do, maybe even more. “God, I can't wait any longer...”

He pushes forward, slowly, carefully. He's being as gentle as he can be, wanting to give you time to adjust to the intrusion. But it's torture for him, the heat, the tightness, the way you're clenching and squeezing him, enveloping him in a way he's never felt before.

“You're so damn tight... So perfect...” He groans the words, his body moving involuntarily, the pleasure too much to resist. His hands grip your hips tighter, his mouth trailing kisses along your back, your shoulders, your neck. He can't get enough of you, his body moving in a rhythm that's old as time itself.

“You feel so good. I never knew it could be like this.” He mutters the words against your skin, his voice thick with ecstasy.

He picks up the pace, his body moving more urgently now, following the pull of pleasure that's driving him onward. His hands are everywhere, caressing and touching, worshiping every inch of you like a man possessed.

“I could stay inside you forever. I never want to let you go.” He murmurs the words into your ear, his voice ragged and broken. He's lost in the moment, in the pleasure, in you.

You reach a hand back, tangling your fingers into his hair, holding onto him like an anchor in the storm. All the rights and wrongs, thrown out of the window.

“Don't let go... Don't ever let go.” He whispers, his lips finding your neck, the skin there already tender from his earlier attentions. His movements become rougher, more frenzied, as if he's desperate to get even closer to you, to merge himself with you in every way possible.

“I need you... I need you so damn much...” The words are a broken chant, gasped into your ear, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

He's moving even faster now, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air, the only break in the silence apart from your moans and gasps. The pleasure is building, growing stronger and stronger with every thrust, threatening to consume you both. You can feel yourself close to the edge, teetering on the very precipice of ecstasy. Bucky knows it too, he can sense it, sense the mounting tension in your body.

“You're close... I can feel it. I'm so close...” He growls the words, his voice tight with the effort to hold back, to keep control for just a little while longer.

“I want to hear you say it... I want you to let go... Tell me you're mine.” His voice is harsh and ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his release.

You struggle to find the words, to form a coherent thought amidst the haze of pleasure. “Y-yours.. I'm... Yours...”

The words send a wave of pleasure through Bucky, his hips twitching involuntarily at the sound of your surrender. “Say it again... I need to hear it again…”

“Yours... I'm yours, Bucky... All yours...” You gasp the words, your voice quivering with the force of your ecstasy.

That's all it takes. Your surrender, your declaration of ownership, it breaks the dam that's been holding him back. “Mine... You're mine... All mine...” He repeats the words like a mantra, his body moving with a new fervor, a new intensity.

“Steve won’t take care of you like I can.” He thrust, “All I have to do is…” he hits you with another powerful thrust, messing up with your senses. “Make a sad face and remind him of my past!” He hits another powerful thrust, and the voice you make is between a cry and a moan. “He will happily give you to me!”

He buries his face in your neck, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. When he speaks again, his voice is a possessive, guttural growl, thick with desire. “And don't you ever forget it.”

His lips find yours again, claiming your mouth in a kiss that's hard and demanding. He's drowning in you, in this moment, the world around you reduced to nothing but the heat and the friction and the pleasure.

He's close, so close, but he won't give in, won't let go until he's brought you to your release, until he's given you everything he can give.

“Come for me, doll... Let go... Give yourself to me... I want to feel it, feel you...” His words are a rough, ragged plea, a demand made out of pure need. He's holding back, waiting for you to reach your peak, his body taut and trembling with the effort to hold back his own pleasure.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, balanced between light and dark, pleasure and pain, sanity and madness.

“Let go... Just let go... I've got you...” The words, the promise, they're enough to push you over the edge. You shatter, your body arching against his, a cry of ecstasy tears from your lungs. The world spins around you, your release crashing through you like a tsunami, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Bucky's there, holding you against him, his arms wrapping around, holding you up, keeping you from collapse. He's still hard inside you, so close to his own climax.

“God, you're so perfect... I've never experienced anything like this before...” His voice is gruff and broken, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls you flush against him. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his body trembling with need and restraint. “I need you.... I need to let go... you will let me come in you, won’t you? You will be a good girl for me, right doll?”

You nod, your body still thrumming with pleasure as you push back against him, signaling your absent-minded consent.

“You're going to be the death of me, woman...” His words are a rough whisper, a promise and a threat all at once. His grip tightens around you, his body tense and coiled like a spring. “Just a little more... just a little longer... I need to give you everything...”

He buries his face in your hair, his breath coming in jagged pants now, his body taut and trembling with the effort to hold back just a little longer.

“Almost there.... almost... I'm so close...” The words are a ragged gasp.

He let out a low, guttural groan, his body tensing against yours, his arms pulling you tight against him. “God, I... I can't... I'm...” he doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he buries his face in your hair, muffling his moan against your shoulder as his body tightens and spasms, his release washing over him like a tide, powerful and consuming.

He holds you close as he comes down, his body trembling with the aftershocks, his breath warm against your skin. “God... that was... incredible...” The words are a rough whisper, his voice thick with emotion. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin, as if he can't bear to let you go for even a moment.

He tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, as if he can't bear to have you any further than an inch away from him. “You're amazing, you know that?”

He nuzzles your neck, his lips leaving tender kisses along the sensitive skin there. He's so gentle, so different from the rough, desperate man who'd been consumed by need a few moments ago. As he sees his release dripping from between your legs, his eyes darken, making him feel more possessive about you.

“Mine...” He mutters the word against your skin, his voice thick with possessiveness. He knows it's probably a bit irrational, but he can't help it. He needs to express his claim over you, his desire to protect and own you in every way imaginable.

He then moves his fingers on your thigh, collecting some of his release on his fingers, bringing them closer to your mouth, a silent order.

You know what he wants, what he's demanding, even if he doesn't say the words aloud. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze, as you slowly bring your hand up to wrap around his wrist, drawing his fingers into your mouth.

“Good girl…” He murmurs the words as he watches you, his eyes darkened by a possessive, primal need. He loves how submissive you are in this moment, how willing and eager you are to please him.

He holds your chin, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips, feeling the glide of his own release against them. “You have no idea what you do to me, doll. You make me lose all control. And I love it…”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's equal parts tender and possessive. He can taste himself on your lips, and the thought just makes him want you more, more fiercely than before.

He pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming faster now, his body stirring once more. “I swear, doll, you're going to be the death of me...”

He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you, marking you as his in every way he can think of.

Little do you know, about the real possessiveness he feels about you. Bucky is already planning to take you far away from everyone. To keep you all to himself. While you are already lost in the kiss and afterglow of the sex, Bucky is already planning about the future.

He kisses you again, with a fierce intensity, his hands roaming over your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. He's thinking of all the ways he wants to have you, all the ways he wants to make you his. He's already made up his mind. You're not just a passing fancy, or a distraction. You're his now, and he's not going to let you go. Not ever.

He then sits on the couch with you, while you rest in his arms, he picks out his phone preparing to take you away. He types out a quick message, his hands still caressing your skin, his eyes never leaving your face.

He's arranging for a secure location, somewhere remote, somewhere he can keep you safe and, more importantly, all to himself.

“My doll.”

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[pickingupmymercedes]

A bit mushy - Lewis Hamilton

Let's see how Lewis and his wife do in a Couple's Interview.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Fun and light Lewis for the win, again thanks a million times to @greedyjudge2 for the idea and for some of the questions, I know I don't usually write carefree Lewis but it's my favorite ❤️❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The room was buzzing—cameras being adjusted, light stands tweaked and a handful of crew members chatting as they waited for everything to come together.

Lewis sat comfortably on the low-slung, cushy armchair beside his wife, his hand resting casually on the back of her seat tracing lazy circles on her back. They looked impossibly relaxed, as if the cameras were invisible, and this was just another day at home.

The director, a laid-back guy with a coffee stain on his jeans and a clipboard that looked way too serious for the vibe of the shoot, strolled over.

He was juggling his phone and an energy drink, clearly a man trying to keep his cool while wrangling two of the most charismatic people in motorsports.

“Okay, so this should be easy” he started, his voice overly casual like he almost didn’t want to disturb the couple’s chemistry “No serious stuff. No PR-approved answers. We’re here for the real deal. Just answering a few questions about each other, nothing too scandalous. Think... fun, but, y’know, juicy enough to make people smile.”

Lewis’s wife, legs crossed and leaning slightly into her husband’s space, raised an eyebrow. “Define juicy” a sly smile tugging at her lips.

The director chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, like... light-hearted scandal. Stuff people don’t already know. Maybe embarrass him a little—" he motioned to Lewis—"but in a cute way.”

Lewis shot the director a mock glare “Right, you don’t really need to ask her that” he said, his voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm.

His wife snorted, turning to face him with a grin. “Promise not to dig too deep. Unless we’re talking about those sneakers you wore to the beach...”

Lewis groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “Not the beach sneakers again! One time and I’m branded for life.”

The crew around them snickered, and even the sound guy adjusted his headphones to cover a grin.

There was something about the way they bickered that had the whole room leaning in, as if everyone was witnessing the most intimate, casual conversation between two people who just fit.

The director, fully entertained, motioned to the cameraman to get ready. “Alright, alright. Let’s save the good stuff for the shoot. Remember, it’s just you two being yourselves. No need to put on a show.”

His wife reached over and squeezed Lewis’s hand. “No promises.”

As they shared a quiet laugh, the subtle touches and glances between them were enough to make anyone nearby smile. There was no need for grand gestures—the way they leaned into each other, how their conversations flowed effortlessly, said more than any scripted moment ever could.

They had that kind of love that made everyone else feel like they were in on something out of ordinary, just by watching.

The cameras zoomed in slowly as the couple got comfortable in their seats. Lewis leaned back, his arm still slung casually around his wife’s chair, his body slight angled so he could face her better, and she tucked one leg underneath her, turning toward him like she always did when they were in the middle of one of their many quiet conversations.

Except this wasn’t quite so quiet. The cameras were rolling now, and the world was about to get a glimpse into how they were with each other.

The director's voice came through, just loud enough to hear but never intrusive.

“Alright, let’s get this rolling. What embarrassing fashion trend did you take part in?”

Lewis immediately leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if he was preparing for battle. “I’ll own this one. Bandanas. Wore them with everything back in the day. Thought I was some kind of rockstar or something.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows shooting up. “Bandanas?” she asked, feigning surprise. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and she leaned closer, as if letting the audience in on a secret. “You sure it wasn’t the Timberlands?”

Lewis threw his head back with a groan, already knowing where this was headed. “Not the Timbs,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was in actual pain.

“Yeah, the Timbs” she said, fully grinning now. “Let me remind you, you used to wear them with everything. Jeans, tracksuits, shorts, suits—”

Lewis raised a hand, stopping her, though there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I still stand by those, alright? I don’t care what anyone says. Timbs are timeless.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, patting his leg. “Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The banter between them came so naturally, it was easy to forget there were cameras pointed right at them. The crew standing around had mostly stopped what they were doing, some watching the couple with amused smirks, others clearly touched by how playful yet undeniably affectionate they were towards each other.

“Okay, next question: What first attracted you to each other?”

Lewis’s wife leaned back, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to come up with something profound. “His sense of style,” she deadpanned, lips twitching as she fought back a grin.

Lewis blinked, his head cocked to the side. “Seriously? You were just attacking my Timbs? That guy’s sense of style?”

For a moment, she held her ground, lips pursed in mock-seriousness. But after a few seconds of staring at him—his bewildered look, the way he was just waiting for her to crack—she broke. Her laugh wasn’t exactly loud but it filled the room.

“Okay, fine!” She reached out, her hand landing on his thigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “It was your eyes.”

Lewis’s eyebrows shot up as he gave her a soft smile. He just stared at her, thrown off by her sudden honesty.

She smiled, her gaze softening too as she looked at him. “They’re intense, you know? Like you see things really deeply. The way you look at the world... it’s impossible not to notice.”

Lewis was quiet for a beat, his usual witty retorts momentarily forgotten. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers on his leg, squeezing it gently. “Well, damn” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, almost reverent.

The room around them seemed to still. There was something about the way they looked at each other that made it feel like they were the only ones there, like everyone else had faded away.

“Next one—‘On what occasion have you lied to me?’”

Lewis’s eyes went wide, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his wife. “Uh… Remember when I blamed Roscoe for loosing up your house shoes?”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’re telling me you wore my house shoes, Lewis?!”

He winced, trying to play it cool. “I mean… It was just that one time! They looked comfy, and my feet were cold. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Oh, I noticed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just thought Roscoe had lied on them, not that your big feet had wrecked them!”

The crew chuckled, sensing the playful tension building between them.

“Roscoe was the perfect scapegoat…” Lewis defended himself.

“My poor baby” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You threw him under the bus!”

“He didn’t seem to mind,” Lewis replied with a smirk, leaning closer to her, his tone turning softer. “But hey, I bought you new ones”

She raised a brow, clearly amused but still pretending to be serious.

“Have I ever made you jealous?”

Lewis leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk creeping across his face as he quipped in before she could. “She has, yes.”

His wife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? When exactly?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time like he always did when he wanted to build up the suspense. She leaned in; her curiosity evident in the way her lips quirked. “Come on, give me the details.”

Lewis shook his head, clearly amused. “The silver dress” he said, voice low.

For a second, she didn’t react, clearly trying to place the memory. Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, her eyes widened in recognition. “Ohhh, that night!”

Her laughter exploded from her, loud and sudden, catching even the crew off guard. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach slightly as she laughed, while Lewis sat there, arms still crossed, trying his best to look annoyed but clearly failing.

“That night was something” she said between laughs, her eyes shimmering with tears of amusement.

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad you think it was so funny.”

“Oh, babe, you were so grumpy” she teased, nudging him with her foot.

Lewis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at her with that mix of exasperation and fondness that made it clear that, no matter what she did, she was always going to get away with it.

“What’s a song that reminds you of each other?”

This time, she didn’t even hesitate. “A Life Like This by Nao.”

Lewis’s face softened immediately. “Why that one?”

She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. This one was softer, more intimate. “Because... before you, I was just going through life, you know? Things were just happening, and I wasn’t really... present. Then you came along, and it was like everything shifted. It was like my Saturn return was finally over, and I could just... breathe.”

For a moment, Lewis said nothing. His face betrayed him—no amount of his typical coolness could hide the way her words hit him.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really gonna get me emotional, huh?” he murmured, his voice so low only she and the mic could pick up on his voice.

She just smiled; her eyes full of love. “That’s the plan.”

The crew exchanged looks and quiet smiles. It was impossible not to feel the connection between them, like they were watching something precious unfold right in front of them.

“What’s something you wish you did more often?”

Lewis leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Lazy mornings.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he said softly, his eyes on her. “No alarms, no schedules, no meetings. Just us. Laying in bed, talking, laughing... not worrying about what we have to do next.”

She nodded again, her smile turning wistful. “Yeah.”

Their eyes met, and once again, the room seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.

“Okay love birds, next up ‘What is the most treasured possession that the other has given you?’”

She paused, tapping her chin as if she really had to think about it, though the answer was clearly already on her mind. “The necklace you gave me on our third date.”

The director blinked, looking between them. “Third date?”

“Oh yeah” she nodded, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling as she shot Lewis a teasing look. “He was whipped by then.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You make it sound like I was proposing marriage.”

“You weren’t far off, though” she teased, reaching for the necklace hanging delicately around her neck. “He gave me this beautiful pendant, that he designed himself, by the way, and I remember thinking, ‘Okay, this guy is serious.’”

Lewis chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew what I wanted.”

“That you did” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah” he grinned. “No point in playing games.”

She looked down at the necklace again, her voice softening. “It’s not just the necklace though. It’s what it represented. He was showing me he wasn’t just there for fun—he was there for real.”

Lewis met her gaze, his smile quieter now, filled with affection. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“When did you first know that you were in love?”

This time, she was the one to hesitate, a mischievous glint in her eye. “In love with whom?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Lewis groaned, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, don’t start.”

She giggled, clearly enjoying every second of his exasperation. “I knew I loved you when we went through about a dozen paint stores in Milan looking for the perfect shade of gold for that painting.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, didn’t remember that.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I could’ve just mixed the colors myself and gotten something close. But you were so invested in finding the exact match that I just... I kept going. And I knew it then. I knew I loved you because you cared about the little things, the details that most people would overlook.”

Lewis stared at her; his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that seemed to melt the room around them.

“What’s your favorite memory of the two of you?”

Lewis leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That time we missed the flight in Paris.”

She let out a groan, breaking the feeling in the room, she already knew where this story was headed. “Nooo, not that!”

“Yep,” Lewis said with a smile. “So we were in Paris, right? And someone—” he pointed at her playfully, “—was absolutely convinced that the subway would get us to the airport faster than any car could.”

“It would’ve!” she protested, already laughing. “The traffic was insane!”

“Yeah sure” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So there we were, dragging our bumps through the subway stations, hopping from one line to the next. Every station was like a maze, and we were so lost. I kept telling you, ‘Let’s just get a cab,’ but nooo, you were determined.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It was an adventure!”

“It was chaos and we missed the flight by hours” Lewis corrected, his voice teasing but fond.

“But honestly? It’s one of my favorite memories. You were so carefree, so determined, so in the present. We were lost in Paris but we weren’t lost within ourselves.”

Her smile softened, her eyes holding his for a long moment. “You never told me that was your favorite memory.”

“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice more sincere now. “I felt like we could just... slow down. Be present. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me.”

For a moment, they were silent, the weight of his words settling between them. The room around them was so still that the soft hum of the cameras was the only sound. The crew watched them closely, as if holding their collective breath.

She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and whispered just loud enough for the microphones to catch “I think that’s my favorite memory now, too.”

Lewis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a few seconds, it was like the cameras weren’t even there. It was just them, lost in a shared memory, a world of their own.

The director, sensing the intimacy of the moment, cleared his throat gently.

“Alright, now to wrap this up ‘When can we expect little Hamiltons running around?”

Both Lewis and his wife exchanged quick glances, and almost in unison, they burst out laughing—only this time, their laughter had a bit of an edge, like they knew something the room didn’t.

Lewis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh, good one.”

“You had to go there, didn’t you?” she added, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “Real smooth.”

The crew, sensing the couple was playing coy, leaned in just a bit, waiting for a juicy response. But instead, Lewis leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, you never know, right?”

His wife smirked, glancing at him sideways, playing along. “When you least expect it”

The director, not quite satisfied, pressed on. “Any plans in the near future?”

“Oh, besides, like, tomorrow’s plans?” she quipped, keeping the teasing energy alive.

Lewis chimed in again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve got a lot of plans. Travel, Roscoe’s bath time…”

The director chuckled, shaking his head. “Dodging the question, I see.”

Lewis gave a knowing look to the camera, adding one final, cryptic comment. “We’ll let you know when it happens... maybe.”

And with that, they both smiled at the cameras, their laughter filling the air as the director called “cut” for the final time.

The room gradually came back to life, the hum of equipment being packed up and crew members chatting quietly filling the air. The couple stayed seated, though, still caught in the gentle pull of their shared moment, almost unaware of the bustling scene around them.

Lewis exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at his wife, his arm instinctively pulling her a little closer. She smiled, still leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“That was a bit mushy, wasn’t it?” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice, though there was warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

Lewis smirked, brushing his thumb gently against her arm. “Just a little. But you started it.”

She chuckled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Tou’re not usually one for getting all sentimental on camera.”

He shrugged lightly, but there was no real defensiveness in his posture.

She smiled, her heart swelling at the softness in his gestures. “Good. I like you better that way.”

She sighed softly, sitting up a little and stretching her arms out with a satisfied groan. “People are going to think we’re a pair of softies.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Let them.”

She smiled, sitting back in her chair and looking at him with a tenderness that only deepened as she reached out, her hand cupping his cheek for a brief moment. “I guess it’s not the worst thing to be.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them and looked straight at her. “Nah, it’s not.”

Unbeknownst to them, the cameras were still rolling—just a little, a behind-the-scenes shot meant to capture those moments of candidness. The crew tried to keep their distance, giving the couple their space, but every now and then, someone would glance over, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. There was something undeniably magnetic about Lewis and his wife, the way they moved around each other, the way they fit together.

Without thinking, he stood up and extended a hand to her, pulling her up from her seat. As she stood, she let out a small laugh, one that was soft and filled with affection. But before she could fully straighten up, Lewis slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest in a gentle, protective embrace.

For a second, she stiffened—more out of surprise than anything—but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, but in that moment, it was everything.

“Alright, lover boy” she murmured, her voice laced with contentment. “What’s all this about?”

“Just holding you” he replied simply, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone he used when it was just the two of them, no audience, no pressure. “Feels like we haven’t had a minute to ourselves in forever.”

She smiled as she found her place on the crock of his neck, her fingers absently tracing circles on the back of his neck “You’ll get them,” she promised quietly. “We’ll make time.”

Eventually, Lewis pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” he started, his tone teasing “about those Timbs.”

She groaned, playfully swatting at his chest. “I thought we agreed to leave the Timbs in the past.”

“I never agreed to that” he grinned, tightening his arms around her playfully. “I’m still rocking them, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Well, at least one of us has evolved.”

He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she said softly, the sincerity of the words wrapping around them both like a warm blanket. “I really do.”

______________________________________________________________

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[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

���I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your face is shiny and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep. 

[hivemuthur]

Dream Within a Dream

My humble tiny contribution to jayvik nation!

mature! kissing/making out, unresolved tension, teeny tiny bit of angst because I'm happiness repellent

word count: 3,5K

summary: based on @mithrava's hc where Jayce and Viktor are so happy about their Hextech breakthrough, they celebrate with a little bit too much alcohol and well... you know. Therefore, tw: alcohol.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“…Will you please stop hovering?” Heimerdinger let out an annoyed huff at two of his pupils, in that moment floating around the room, amidst the blue hextech light scattered around them.

“I’m not sure how to do that, sir,” Viktor replied, trying to keep his composure—but he couldn’t hold back the laughter. He just couldn’t. It was unbelievable. It was unreal. They had actually done it.

Through endless nights of discussions, equations, notes, borderline illegal amounts of coffee, and sleeping in uncomfortable positions, they had managed to get here. To harness the power of magic and encapsulate it within a tiny crystal—endless possibilities contained inside.

So how could he be serious in that moment? There was absolutely no way to withhold the grin on his face. And even though so much was happening at once, Jayce took note of that grin—he hadn’t seen Viktor this happy before. In fact, he had only ever seen him vaguely content or, on rare occasions, excited. Happy? Never.

Heimerdinger’s voice broke them both out of the blissful moment. “This is not what Piltover’s future looks like, my dear boys.” The frown on his furry face gave away a concern that neither of them understood.

“That’s for the Council to decide.” Mel Medarda’s voice reached them before she appeared in her full glory. “Perhaps it is time,” she said, her tone gentle and measured as she scanned the room, “for the era of magic.”

“Uh, Hextech. For the era of Hextech,” Jayce corrected her, feeling the crushing weight of this moment. Where they could go from here seemed endless. And the best part of it was that he would be on this journey with Viktor.

***

They had managed to get the hovering under control, though not without casualties—Jayce had bashed his forehead on the desk while turning the machinery off, and Viktor had fallen straight onto his ass, a loud groan echoing through the workshop.

“Shit, Viktor, are you alright?”

The immediate concern in Jayce’s voice melted something deep inside Viktor. Something tender, almost unfamiliar. He looked up, and there Jayce was—already nursing his own bruised forehead, his face creased with a worried frown. Jayce. The man who, with all his relentless optimism, had somehow made Viktor’s world feel brighter.

Viktor’s lips twitched into a crooked smile, though he couldn’t quite meet Jayce’s eyes. “I’ll be fine. It’s mostly my pride that suffered,” he said, brushing himself off with as much dignity as he could muster. His voice sounded steadier than he felt. “I just need to… sit here for a moment.”

Jayce exhaled, a wide grin overtaking his face—so wide it threatened to split it in half. There was something almost boyish about it, as though he couldn’t hold in the sheer radiance of his joy.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be back before you can say ‘Hextech’!” he exclaimed, already pushing to his feet, a hand pressing against the purpling bruise on his temple. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this—the breakthrough, the impossible victory that had been years, perhaps a lifetime, in the making. For Jayce, this wasn’t just a moment of triumph; it was a culmination of dreams whispered into the dark, plans scribbled into tattered notebooks. And Viktor—Viktor had made this possible.

As Jayce bounded out of the workshop, his voice trailing triumphant “Wooo!” sounds down the hallway, Viktor was left alone. Mid-inhale, he blinked at the empty doorway. “It’s not like I would go—” he muttered, his voice quiet in the now cavernous silence, “—anywhere.”

The air stilled. Viktor slumped back against the edge of the workbench, his limbs aching but his heart so full it felt as though it might burst. He tilted his head back, letting his gaze settle on the swirling hextech light still dancing across the ceiling, refracting like a kaleidoscope of stars.

What had they done? What had he done?

This wasn’t supposed to happen—not to him, not like this. For years, Viktor had lived in the shadow of his own life. A quiet assistant to minds greater, stronger, brighter than his. A figure scribbling equations in the margins, unseen and unheard. He had been grateful for scraps—a word of praise, an acknowledgment, the briefest recognition that he existed.

But this? This moment was his as much as it was Jayce’s. He closed his eyes.

For the first time, Viktor allowed himself to hold the word in his mind: partner. It was a simple word, but it swelled against his ribs until he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know when it had started—when Jayce’s infuriatingly good-hearted presence had carved its way into his chest—but it was there, undeniable. A bloom of something delicate and dangerous, a feeling he could barely name.

Partner. But perhaps… perhaps something more.

The thought made him scoff softly to himself, shaking his head. Foolish. His pulse still hammered beneath his skin, hot with joy, with relief, with an ache he didn’t quite understand. His hand reached for his cane—a familiar comfort, even in its broken state—but he stopped short, fingertips hovering over the fractured wood.

Had he ever been this happy? Had he ever let himself be?

His chest rose and fell as he breathed, shaky and uneven, overwhelmed by it all. It hurt to feel this much, but gods, it was a beautiful kind of hurt.

“Jayce…” he whispered into the silence, testing the name on his tongue as though it might anchor him. Viktor let his hand fall away, sinking deeper into the weight of the moment. The hextech crystal continued to pulse in its cradle, and its glow reflected faintly in Viktor’s golden eyes—a mirror to the light he could feel, for the first time, inside himself. He had never had a reason to be this happy before. And he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Look what I found!” Jayce announced, as though he’d stumbled across a treasure hoard. “One cold compress—for your aching pride and your even more aching ass.” He tossed it toward Viktor, who caught it with a bemused huff. “And this,” he added, holding up the bottles with a victorious grin, “to seal the moment. A proper celebration.”

Viktor pressed the cool compress against his lower back, a small groan of relief escaping him. “You are… remarkably considerate,” he said, voice dry but fond. Then, eyeing the bottles dubiously, he added, “But I must warn you—I do not hold my liquor well.”

Jayce froze mid-flourish, his mouth dropping open in exaggerated offense. “Viktor, please. If you’re ever going to drink—ever—surely this is the moment to do it. You and I, two geniuses on the verge of changing the world! Are you really going to deny me the pleasure of seeing you loosen up?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the faint upward twitch of his lips. “One glass,” he relented, holding up a single finger for emphasis. “One.”

Jayce grinned like he’d won a victory greater than Hextech itself. “Deal!”

The cork popped with a satisfying crack, and before Viktor could protest further, Jayce had pressed a glass into his hand, the bubbly liquid fizzing and glittering like gold. Viktor stared at it, his brows furrowed as though unsure whether to admire it or fear it.

“To us,” Jayce said, raising his glass.

Viktor hesitated just a moment longer before mirroring him. “To… us,” he echoed softly. Then he smiled and added, “Na zdraví” in his thick accent.

The champagne was sharp and cold on his tongue, sweet but with a bite that lingered. It spread warmth through him far too quickly, a heat that gathered in his chest and curled behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or simply the culmination of the day—the culmination of everything.

Jayce plopped down beside him on the floor, his legs stretched out lazily, their shoulders just barely brushing. “You know,” Jayce started, leaning his head back against the bench, “I can’t stop thinking about what this could mean. What we could do with it. Energy, innovation, security—Piltover could be… unstoppable.”

Viktor let his head loll to the side, a small smile quirking his lips as he studied Jayce’s face—open, bright, unwavering. “You are always looking ahead,” he said, his voice softer now, the champagne buzzing pleasantly at the edges of his thoughts. “It is admirable.”

Jayce turned to grin at him. “It’s easy when I’ve got you by my side.”

Viktor looked away, clearing his throat as heat threatened to creep up his neck. He forced his voice into a teasing lilt. “I could not help but notice how impressed Mel Medarda seemed with you earlier,” he said.

“Mel?” Jayce blinked, and Viktor swore he caught a flicker of hesitation. “She’s… she’s something, isn’t she?”

Viktor’s smile faltered slightly, a small twist forming in his chest. Something sharp and unpleasant. He frowned faintly to himself—jealousy? Ridiculous. Still, the feeling made him cringe. He’d never been prone to such sentiments before; why now?

Jayce, as though sensing something, rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. “But, uh… I’ve had my eyes elsewhere for a while.”

Viktor turned to him, his brows knitting in confusion. “Elsewhere?”

The question hung between them, and for the briefest moment, Jayce’s confidence faltered. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, looking almost… nervous. Finally, he laughed, too quickly, waving a hand in the air. “I mean on our research, of course! Hextech. What else?”

Viktor tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Jayce’s face. “Right,” he said slowly, though he didn’t quite believe it.

Jayce turned his head away, suddenly focused on the far wall of the workshop. His hands fiddled with the stem of his glass, his thumb running absently along its edge. He felt off-kilter, as though the champagne had stripped him of some unseen armor. His pulse was too fast. And Viktor—Viktor, who sat beside him with his sharp golden eyes and his half-tilted smile—was studying him with far too much patience.

Jayce forced himself to look. Just look. He let his eyes trace Viktor’s features, committing them to memory—the sharp angles softened by the dim light, the faint flush to his pale cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly as though always on the edge of forming a thought. Damn.

He couldn’t stop talking, theorizing. He talked and talked, desperate for Viktor’s attention, for his hums of approval, for his thoughtful expressions. Their faces were getting closer and closer, as Jayce’s voice faltered and began to quiet.

“I mean, if we go about this well, think of all the people we could help. We could revolutionize mining, transport, we could—” His breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t know why. For the love of him, he couldn’t understand what invisible force guided his hands in that moment to cradle Viktor’s cheeks and press his lips against Viktor’s. Maybe it was the Hextech itself, but, oh gods, he didn’t know it was possible—it felt even better than hovering around the room mere hours ago.

It was so quick; he didn’t even register when he got back to his previous position.

Silence fell between them, heavy and aching. Jayce couldn’t bring himself to look up when he felt slender hands tugging at his neck and pulling him back to where he had just been. It was a slow movement—tentative, yet deliberate. Viktor’s arms guided him back to where he was supposed to be, and Jayce had to balance himself on his friend’s hip. The kiss was slow, sloppy, lazy even. Extended in time, as if they wanted time itself to stop and freeze them in this fleeting moment.

Jayce moaned involuntarily as he felt a sharp pull of heat drag through his core, ready to pull Viktor closer, when Viktor hesitantly broke them apart.

A small “Wait,” barely audible, escaped Viktor’s mouth. “I am sorry, I don’t know what—” he tried, but his words failed him. What he needed right now was a calculation: of the risk, of the potential benefits and losses, a detailed outline of what had led to this conclusion. But his mind was so hazy from all the champagne, Viktor scolded himself for having more than one glass.

It was an impossible command for Jayce. He was able to do anything, but ‘wait’ right then. Mindful of his fresh injury, Jayce pulled Viktor up to straddle his lap, their torsos touching through the horrible layers of clothing. He hated clothes so much in that moment.

Jayce kissed him again, deeply, hungrily, a quiet urgency that neither of them had anticipated. Their lips moved together in a rhythm that felt both natural and uncharted, as though they had crossed an invisible line they hadn’t even known existed. Jayce’s hands cupped Viktor’s ass, pressing him down on himself, the bulge in his pants painfully swollen. Viktor’s hips bucked, he couldn’t help it—it embarrassed him completely, but another thing he couldn’t help was a breathy moan escaping his mouth. What had just happened?

“Fuck, Jayce,” Viktor mumbled straight into Jayce’s mouth. “What is… this?” he stated more than asked, breaking the kiss but keeping their faces close together, their foreheads and noses touching, their mouths panting.

“I don’t know,” Jayce breathed, his voice soft but steady, his hands still holding Viktor close, fingers splayed against his back. “But it feels... good.”

His chest tightened as he felt Viktor’s breath hitch, the conflict so clear in his partner’s eyes, despite the way their bodies pressed together in a dizzying, heated closeness. The tension between them was palpable—an uncomfortable, unspoken ache that neither of them could address right now. The weight of their clothes, the awkwardness of their embrace, felt suffocating as if there was too much space to fill but not enough to move. Viktor’s sharp inhale vibrated through Jayce’s chest, and he noticed how stiff Viktor’s shoulders were, like he was trying to hold himself back.

Jayce could feel the conflict in the tightness of Viktor’s arms, the way his body was taut against him as if he were bracing for something. It made Jayce’s heart race, his mind swirling with uncertainty, but his arms were already instinctively pulling Viktor in tighter. His face pressed into Viktor’s neck, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him—a mix of iron, wood, and something uniquely Viktor. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” Viktor said, his voice strained, as though he were forcing the words out through a clenched jaw. He pulled back just enough to look Jayce in the eyes, and there was a flicker of hesitation before he spoke again. “It’s best if we get some rest. We can’t... I can’t...” Viktor’s voice caught in his throat, the words stumbling out as if they were too heavy to say.

Jayce’s heart sank, a dull ache in his chest at the thought of pulling away. He understood. He knew Viktor wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure of what had just happened, wasn’t sure of what he wanted. It was too much. Too fast. Jayce nodded, slow and resigned, but the words didn’t come immediately. His body was still pressed against Viktor’s, still drunk on the warmth of him, the touch, the kiss that had stolen all their breath.

“It’s okay,” Jayce said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

But as Viktor began to shift back, preparing to pull away, Jayce’s hand tightened around his waist, stopping him. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

“Just... give me a minute more of this,” Jayce said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, as though the words were torn from him. His head dipped back into Viktor’s neck, inhaling deeply, the scent of him filling his lungs. He breathed him in like he was trying to hold onto the moment, as if if he let go now, it would all slip away.

Viktor stiffened slightly, but Jayce didn’t let go. He just held him tighter, his arms now wrapped fully around Viktor’s back, pulling him closer. And Viktor, though he hesitated for a brief moment, let himself be held.

In that moment, Jayce didn’t want to think about the future, about what this meant, or the next steps. He just wanted the quiet comfort of Viktor’s presence, the feeling of his body against his own, the intimacy of this fragile, fleeting moment that felt like something he never wanted to end.

Later, in their separate rooms, sleep eluded them. The night stretched long, each of them turning over in their own bed, replaying the evening over and over in their foggy minds. Viktor’s head throbbed from the champagne, but it was the kiss that lingered, the warmth of Jayce’s hands, the desperate pull of something he couldn’t name.

Across the hall, Jayce lay wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling, the taste of Viktor still sharp on his lips. His heart raced with the memory of their closeness, the breathless tension that had filled the room. He knew he should sleep, but the moment kept replaying in his mind, teasing him with the questions he didn’t know how to answer. Neither of them could shake the memory, the yearning that now hung between them like an unsaid truth, and neither of them could bring themselves to confront it, not yet.

***

They were both late the next day. Jayce, the ever-thoughtful Jayce, brought the coffees and breakfast to the workshop, only to find Viktor slumped against the desk, napping.

Jayce’s heart swelled momentarily with the memory of last night still lingering, but he managed to speak. “Do I dare check for your pulse?” he joked, approaching Viktor with the coffee first—one could never be too cautious.

“It should be in your best interest that I still have a pulse, otherwise the blood would be on your hands, Jayce,” Viktor groaned, his voice muffled against the workbench. “This is agonizing. The one thing in my body that worked without fault is now failing me.” Another dramatic whine made Jayce laugh. “You’ve broken me, Jayce. No more Hextech, no more genius mind,” Viktor kept whining, his hand blindly roaming the space in front of him, searching for the coffee.

“It can’t be that bad. I’ve brought food. Will that grant me your forgiveness?” Jayce asked, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he set the breakfast down in front of Viktor.

“Ugh, no, I can barely keep my insides... well, inside,” Viktor groaned, his voice thick with discomfort. He slowly lifted his head from the workbench, blinking against the harsh light. But beneath his words, his mind was racing.

He knew exactly how much he'd had to drink, and he knew the effects were still there. But the last thing he wanted was for Jayce to think he was still reeling from the night. So, he lied—an easy lie, one that masked the overwhelming truth. How did we get so drunk? I can’t remember a thing, he told himself, but his mind replayed every second of it. The kiss. Jayce's arms around him. The feeling of something more lingering in the air, unspoken and unresolved. It haunted him, but Viktor buried it beneath the weight of a half-hearted chuckle. "How did we get so drunk? I can’t remember a thing," he repeated aloud, his hand slowly making its way toward the food as if it could somehow pull him away from his thoughts.

Jayce’s heart literally sank at Viktor’s words, the lightness in his chest suddenly replaced by a heavy knot. He forced a chuckle, brushing the unease aside. Of course, Viktor couldn’t remember… Of course. But he played along, trying to keep things light. “Well, we talked about Hextech, and the future. Grand plans, all that. Nothing too exciting," he added with a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Viktor, still half-dazed, blinked at him slowly, as if he was trying to pull the threads of last night together. He took a sip of the coffee Jayce had brought him, his eyes narrowing with a hint of disbelief. “I can’t believe our dream is actually about to come true,” Viktor murmured, shaking his head as if the reality of it was just starting to sink in.

Jayce’s expression faltered, a subtle sadness flashing across his face before he could mask it. “Yeah, it will,” he said quietly, his voice betraying a wistful edge. “Our dream will come true now.” He paused, his gaze distant for a moment, as if the weight of the moment was pressing in on him. But there was another, smaller dream, too. One that had lingered in the back of it all. Jayce had gotten a glimpse of it coming true last night as well. He scolded himself for letting it slip through his fingers.

[sugarplum217]

The Fire We Make (Part One)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys, please be kind this is my first story on here and I hope you all enjoy it . Comment and tell me your thoughts.

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage. Do not copy or steal my work.

Summary: You came back to Elizabeth, South Carolina, to handle Nana Rosalyn’s land and tie up some loose ends, sign a few papers, and be on the next flight back to her real life. Simple. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Enter Terry Richmond: ex-Marine, built like a damn problem, and apparently living in your grandmother’s house like it’s his own. He’s quiet, unreadable, and way too fine for your peace of mind. Between the thick summer heat, old memories creeping in, and the way Terry keeps looking at you like he sees straight through you, one thing is clear…..This trip might not be so simple after all.

They say there’s no place like home, and maybe once upon a time, you would’ve agreed. Back when summers here meant running barefoot through the grass, shelling peas with Nana on the front porch, and falling asleep to the sound of crickets and old gospel humming through the walls. But that was a long time ago. Before life had a chance to show you just how cruel it could be. Now, sitting in front of your grandmother’s house, all you feel is the weight of everything you tried to outrun. The air is thick, heavy with that signature South Carolina heat, clinging to your skin like a second layer. Even the damn trees look the same—tall, unmoving, watching you like they know you don’t belong here anymore.

This place holds secrets. Buried in the dirt, woven into the foundation of this house, settled deep in your bones no matter how much distance you put between you and it. You swore you’d never come back. Swore you left this town and everything in it behind the moment your father died and your mother made it clear she wanted nothing to do with his side of the family. And yet, here you are. Staring at the same porch you once sat on as a little girl, knees scraped up from playing too rough, hands sticky from fresh peaches Nana sliced up just for you. Except now, Nana is gone. And her house—this land—is yours. The air inside the rental car was thick, heavy with the kind of heat that made it hard to breathe. The A/C worked overtime, but it was barely spitting out enough cool air to do anything besides tease your skin. The heat still clung to you like an unwanted memory, curling around your neck, sticking to the crease of your thighs, making your tank top feel like a second skin.

You gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the house that used to feel like a second home—but now? Now, it just felt like a reminder of everything you tried to outrun. Your stomach twisted, nerves tangling themselves into something tight and uncomfortable. You hadn’t stepped foot in this place in years. Hadn’t even had a reason to. Not since—You inhaled sharply, cutting the thought off before it could sink its teeth in.It wasn’t like you had much of a choice being here now. Your grandmother’s passing made sure of that. And as much as you wanted to sit here, let the A/C struggle against the heat, and pretend you weren’t parked in front of the very place you swore you’d never come back to… you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever.

But damn, if you didn’t want to try. The loud buzz of your phone rattling against the cup holder snapped you out of your thoughts. The sudden sound made you flinch, your heart kicking up like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. You blinked, shaking off the moment before grabbing your phone and swiping the screen without even checking the caller ID.

“Girl,” you groaned, already knowing who it was.

“I know that ain’t attitude I hear,” Tasha’s voice came through clear, dragging her words like she already knew what time it was.

“Of course it’s a damn attitude, I’m hot, sticky and do you know I had to drive a whole 4 hours from the damn airport?!” you grumbled, shifting in your seat.

“This ain’t my scene, Tasha. I’m sweating, my thighs sticking together, and the air out here smells like—” You paused, inhaling deeply. “Like grass, hot stank wood, and somebody’s granddaddy’s chewing tobacco. I ain’t cut out for this country-ass shit.”

Tasha cackled on the other end. “Now girl, your ass been there for all of five minutes and already ready to run back to the city?”

You sighed dramatically, wiping at the light sheen of sweat on your chest. “Girl, I ain’t even turned the damn car off yet.”

“The way your Nana used to talk about that place, you’d think it was paradise.” She snickered.

You snorted, side-eyeing the house. “Meanwhile, I pull up, and it’s giving—”

“Ghetto woods.” Tasha cut in, taking the thought right from your brain as if she was looking through it.

“Exactly.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at the property that inspite of it being ages since you had been there, things looked pretty decent.

Tasha hummed knowingly. “And yet, here you are.”

“Not because I wanna be here Tasha.. You know that,” you shook your head, inhaling deep againing as a exasperated sigh left your sticky gloss filled lips, “If it were up to me, I would have let my uncle’s and drunk fool of an aunt fight over this place.” You added, with a nonchalant shrug.

“Didn’t you tell me that none of your daddy’s siblings were her kids? So how in the hell would that even have worked?” Tasha questioned, and rightfully so.

None of your father’s siblings belonged to your sweet Nana Rosalyn. They were products of her late husband’s constant infidelities during their entire relationship and even part of their marriage. She had been young when she married him, head over heels for a man who sold her dreams but only ever delivered nightmares. And when the truth of his betrayals became undeniable, she made one thing clear—she wasn’t having no damn kids by a man who couldn’t keep his vows. But then life played its own hand.

Your father came later, unexpectedly, and he was her one and only, her redemption after years of being shackled to a man who never deserved her. And because he was born from love and not betrayal, Nana cherished him more than anything in this world. That alone was enough to breed resentment.

The siblings never could stay on one page. Too much history, too much pain, too much deep-rooted hate for the way your father had been the baby and the favorite. Your grandfather’s other children—some older than your father by decades—never let him forget that he was the only one born into real love, not just obligation. They carried that bitterness, wielded it like a knife, slicing through any chance of peace in the family.

And Nana? She may have loved them in her own way, but she wasn’t blind. She saw how they moved, how they made her son’s life hell, how they took every opportunity to remind him that, in their eyes, he was an outsider in his own bloodline. So, she made a decision. She wrote them out of her will. All of them.

Every last one of your grandfather’s children got nothing but the memories they made and the grudges they refused to let go of. Instead, she left everything to your father. And when he passed, she made sure that her estate—her house, her land, every last piece of what she worked her whole life for—would go to you. Because she knew they would never do right by her legacy. And truth be told? You didn’t blame her one bit.

Still, you never could understand how she stayed. How she spent years, decades, by the side of a man who disrespected her with every child he brought home. How she smiled and cooked and raised kids that weren’t even hers. How she carried the weight of a marriage that gave her nothing but heartache. If it had been you? That man would’ve met his damn maker on some railroad tracks.

“It wouldn’t have worked because she didn’t leave their asses a damn thing, not one fucking dime or penny. I can’t really say I blame her though because she took good care of them and when she needed somebody, those greedy motherfuckas weren't there.” You huffed, tone bitter and cold at the thought of how none of your father’s siblings even showed up for him, once he got sick.

Tasha let out a low whistle on the other end. “Damn. So Nana just cut them off completely?”

“Completely.” You adjusted in your seat, the leather burning the back of your thighs. “She ain’t leave them a damn thing. No land, no money, not even a ‘God bless you’ in that will. Just my daddy, and when he passed, it all came to me.”

Tasha hummed, her tone knowing. “And that’s why they got all that hate in their hearts.”

“Like I give a damn.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your water bottle. The condensation dripped onto your fingers as you took a swig, but the lukewarm liquid didn’t do much against the heat. “I just need to handle this shit and get the fuck back to New York. I ain’t got time for all this country backwoods drama. This place suffocates me.”

“Girl, you've been there ten minutes… And you already sound like you are fighting for your life. ” She giggled, making you roll your eyes again.

“Because I am,” you stressed, flipping the sun visor down and fanning yourself with the nearest piece of mail you found in the passenger seat. “I step outside, and I swear the air is thick like molasses. The trees leaning in too damn close, like they trying to hear my business. I can’t even breathe right.”

Tasha cackled, fully enjoying your suffering. “You sound so damn dramatic.”

“Ain’t shit dramatic about the truth, Tasha,” you shot back. “I need to get in here, get this property situation squared away, and then I’m ghost. I’m going back to where the streets don’t smell like wet grass, and the heat don’t feel like it got hands.”

Tasha smacked her lips. “Mmhmm. Keep talking that ‘I’m leaving soon’ shit. Something tell me you gon’ be there longer than you think.”

You sucked your teeth, flipping her off even

though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, alright. Let me get off this phone before I melt in this damn car.”

Tasha laughed again. “Hit me later. And don’t get your thick ass into any mess.”

You snorted. “Me? Never.”

With that, you ended the call, tossing the phone back into the cup holder. Taking one last deep breath, you reached for the door handle, already bracing yourself for the suffocating heat waiting outside. The sooner you handled this, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Immediately, the heat wraps around you like a thick-ass quilt fresh out the dryer.

“Damn,” you mutter, shifting your shorts as you grab your bag from the backseat. The old house stands in front of you, still the same shade of off-white, still with that wrap-around porch your Nana used to sit on every evening with her sweet tea. The screen door creaks when you walk up the steps, but you aren’t worried. You already know where the key is. Just like when you were little, it sits right under the worn-out mat. You bend down, grab it, and unlock the door, stepping into the house. The air smells like lemons, cedarwood, and something else you can’t quite place. Your fingers brush over the familiar wooden banister as you walk through the hallway, a strange mix of comfort and melancholy settling in your chest. Just as you were about to sit your purse to the side, the sound of sudden footsteps alerted you. You paused your movements as you listened closely to the steps nearing closer, coming from the end of the hall. Immediately the unfamiliar scent you had picked up on earlier, became stronger as the heavy steps came towards the living area. Soon the footsteps halted and you

You froze and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes snapped toward the hallway. And then, stepping around the corner, a man appeared. A very fine, very built, very wet man. Fresh out the shower, droplets still clung to his deep caramel skin, highlighting every hard-cut muscle like he was sculpted straight out of bronze. A white towel sat dangerously low on his hips, barely hanging on, and his broad, glistening chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. His shoulders were massive, arms thick with veins that ran down to strong, capable hands. But his face? Strong jaw. Full lips. A nose that screamed royalty. And his eyes—God, his eyes—a stormy mix of hazel and gray that shifted with the light, catching hints of ocean blue, hell maybe even green when the sun hit them just right. For a second, neither of you moved but then—

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was deep, rough, carrying an authority that made your stomach flip.

“NO! Who in the hell are you?” you shrieked back, stepping further into the house but keeping a tight grip on your car keys—because you might just have to stab this man.

His brows furrowed slightly, gaze flicking over you like he was assessing whether you were a threat. “I live here. What the hell you doin’ breaking in?”

You damn near choked. “Breaking in?! I live here!”

His nostrils flared slightly before something in his expression shifted. His shoulders eased, his jaw relaxed just a fraction, and then he exhaled like something just clicked.

“Wait…” He dragged a hand down his face, water trailing along his fingers. “You—You Rosalyn’s granddaughter?”

Your chest still rose and fell from the adrenaline rush. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“Terry, Terry Richmond..” He said like that was supposed to mean something to you. When you just stared, he nodded toward the mantle, where an old framed photo of your Nana and you sat beside a dusty Bible. “She used to talk about you all the time. Should’ve recognized you.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “You mean to tell me my grandmother didn’t just leave me this house, she left me a roommate? Just great…” Your voice trailed off, annoyance seeping from your tone. Terry smirked at you, slow and knowing, and somehow, that tiny expression made him look even finer. He leaned against the doorway like he had all the time in the world, eyes dragging over you now like he was trying to figure you out. You instantly felt uncomfortable under his gaze as crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one hip.

“So, you’re telling me you were my Nana’s caretaker?” You suspiciously questioned.

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “If that’s true, how come I ain’t see you at her funeral?” You tilted your head, watching him closely. “You supposed to have been close to her, right? Where were you?”

His jaw tightened slightly, but his expression stayed unreadable. “I was there.”

Your lips parted, but he cut you off before you could press him.

“I sat in the back.” His voice was even, calm. “Ain’t family, so I kept my distance.” His stormy eyes flickered with something unreadable as he added, “Ain’t too fond of church anyway.”

You almost called his bluff, ready to argue, but then—

A memory flashed in your mind.

Most of that day was a blur, but… there was someone sitting alone at the back of the church. A man, broad and still, his head dipped low, hands clasped together like he was deep in thought—or prayer. He never moved, never spoke, just sat there, solid as stone, while grief and sorrow swirled around the room.

It could’ve been him. But then again… your memory of that day was shaky at best.

You had gotten high out of your mind just to get through it. Hit a blunt in your car before even stepping foot in that church. And then there was the tequila—more than a few shots—because there was no way in hell you were about to face your father’s side of the family sober. The whole funeral was a blur. You barely remembered the service, barely remembered speaking. Even now, when you tried to pull up details, they slipped through your fingers like water. Still… you felt like you should remember someone as fine as him. Your eyes flickered over him again—the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his towel clung just low enough to test your focus, those ocean-storm eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Yeah. There was no way you wouldn’t have noticed him.

“…Hmph.” You didn’t realize you made the sound out loud until his lips twitched.

“That a problem?” he asked, voice edged with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “No. Just making sure you ain’t lying.”

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he continued to lean his body on the doorframe, still way too at ease for your liking. Something about him told you he was telling the truth. Despite the weirdness of finding out you suddenly had a damn roommate, you had to admit—it was kind of a relief. At least you wouldn’t have to struggle dragging your suitcases inside by yourself. But asking him for help? Yeah. That was the real challenge.

You cleared your throat, plastering on your sweetest smile as you tilted your head slightly. “Umm… so Terry, is it?”

“Mmhmm.” He raised an eyebrow, his full lips twitching like he already knew where this was going.

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “You mind helping me with my luggage?”

Terry let out a low chuckle, deep and rich, before shaking his head. “After you just basically called me a liar?” He sucked his teeth. “Your Nana wasn’t lying when she said you was a piece of work. Said your little ass always needed a good spanking.”

For some damn reason, that sent a tingle straight to your pussy, making you shift uncomfortably. You quickly cleared your throat, rolling your eyes to cover your reaction. “Whatever. You helping or not?”

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening just a little as he let the moment linger. Then, after a beat, he pushed off the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me get some clothes on first.” He gave you a lazy once-over before adding, “Can’t have the helpless princess out here struggling, now can I?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I ain’t helpless.”

“Uh-huh.” Terry just laughed under his breath and shook his head as he turned toward the hallway. You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down as he walked away. And damn. His back was all muscle, broad and defined, tapering into a tight waist. And that ass? Whew. Tight, round, sitting just right in that towel. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he suddenly glanced over his shoulder.

Busted.

You quickly averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at him. But you weren’t the only one caught slipping. Because as you quickly moved past him to head upstairs to your old room, you felt his eyes trailing down, and lingering on the curve of your thick thighs before he snapped his gaze back up, clearing his throat. As Terry disappeared down the hall to throw on some clothes, you made your way up the stairs, your feet moving on autopilot toward your old bedroom. The door creaked as you pushed it open, and the moment you stepped inside, nostalgia wrapped around you like a thick, heavy blanket.

Everything was still in place. The same twin bed with the floral comforter Nana Rosalyn had bought you when you were ten. The same wooden dresser, still covered in stickers you had no business putting on there. Even the faint scent of lavender and brown sugar lingered in the air, like Nana had just been in here yesterday and not… Your throat tightened as you swallowed against the thought. You hadn’t really let yourself think about it—her being gone. You’d done everything you could to avoid feeling it, pushing it down so deep you could almost pretend it wasn’t real. But standing here, surrounded by all these pieces of your childhood, it hit you like a gut punch. She was actually gone and now you were here, back in this house that held more love than you’d ever felt anywhere else, but she wasn’t.

Your vision blurred as you ran your fingers over the old wooden vanity, tracing the edges where the paint had started to chip. A lump formed in your throat, but before you could get too lost in your feelings—

Your phone buzzed loud as hell from your pocket.

With a sharp inhale, you wiped at your eyes and pulled it out, already groaning when you saw the name on the screen. It was your darling mother dearest, the last person you wanted to speak to at the moment. You debated letting it go to voicemail, but you already knew she’d just keep calling. So, with a deep sigh, you answered.

“Hello?” You took a seat on the edge of your old bed.

“Took you long enough.” Her voice was dry, clipped. No hey baby, no how was your trip? Just straight to the point, like always. “Did you make it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah, I’m here..”

“Hmph.” A pause. Then, “Well, please hurry up and sell that damn place. I told your daddy when he was alive to put that woman in a home and get rid of it.”

Your grip on the phone tightened, anger bubbling up fast. “That woman was my grandmother… and your mother in law–”

“And your father’s biggest mistake,” she shot back, voice sharp as glass. “He let that old country woman manipulate him his whole life. Should’ve cut the cord a long time ago instead of running behind her like a lost puppy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply through your nose. “You know what, Ma? I don’t wanna do this with you right now.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, the kind she always did when she was about to make you feel like you were the problem. “Oh, please. I’m just trying to get you to do the smart thing for once. That house ain’t nothing but a money pit. Sell it and move on.”

You bit down on your tongue so hard you swore you tasted blood. Before you could say anything else, she switched gears, her tone suddenly shifting into something damn near sweet. “By the way, did you get that link I sent you?”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew exactly what she was talking about, but you played dumb anyway. “What link?”

“The link to the doctor,” she said, like it should’ve been obvious. “The one I told you about for the weight loss surgery. Dr. Reynolds. He’s the best in Atlanta. Books up fast, so you need to get on it. His prices are fairly reasonable and I think he accepts most major insurances.”

“Wow. Not even ten minutes into this conversation, and you already back on that shit.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh, don’t start,” she huffed. “I’m helping you. You’d actually be able to keep a man if you lost some of that weight.”

There it was. That same damn wound she’d been digging into your whole life. You could still hear her voice from when you were a kid, standing in front of the mirror in some dress she’d picked out, sucking in your stomach while she pinched at your waist.

“No man wants a fat wife, baby. You don’t wanna end up like those big, miserable women who can’t even get a date.”

And then your daddy, always stepping in, always fighting for you.

“Leave her alone, Monique. She’s perfect just the way she is.”

But your mama never listened. Not then, and definitely not now.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Oh, so you like struggling to find clothes in your size? You like being the biggest one in the room?” she snapped. “I don’t know why you’re so damn stubborn. I’m trying to help you, and you act like I’m the enemy.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Maybe because you are…”

She gasped like you’d just slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, voice flat. “And I’m done talking about this.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment before she scoffed. “Fine. Be fat and alone for the rest of your life. See if I care.” And with that, the line went dead. You pulled the phone away from your ear, staring at the screen until it blurred. You shouldn’t have been surprised. This was classic Monique Walker. Still, it hurt like hell. Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they’d fallen. Your hand tightened around your phone as you gritted your teeth, voice barely above a whisper but thick with emotion.

“I swear, I fucking hate her.” You seethed. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, but damn if they weren’t true in that moment. You swiped at your face roughly, sniffling, before your eyes drifted over to the small wooden dresser in the corner. Your breath caught as your gaze landed on a framed photo of Nana Rosalyn, her warm brown eyes staring back at you, lips curved into that soft smile she always had whenever she looked at you. She had loved you, no conditions, no judgments, no backhanded comments about your weight or your worth. Just pure, unshakable love.

You exhaled, blinking back more tears as you whispered, “I miss you, Nana. I wish you were here.”

The air in the room felt heavier, like she was listening. Like she was there in some way. You let yourself sit with the feeling for a moment, let yourself pretend you weren’t completely alone. Then the sound of footsteps and the scrape of something heavy against the floor made you snap back to reality. You turned just as Terry strolled in, carrying both of your heavy-ass suitcases like they weighed nothing. His arms flexed with each effortless step, muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the white ribbed wife beater he had on stretching tight across his chest. His cargo shorts hung low on his hips, showcasing strong, toned thighs, and with every movement, the fabric shifted just enough to make your thoughts derail.

Damn….

Toni Braxton’s You’re Makin’ Me High played faintly in the back of your mind, slow and sultry, like the universe was tryna set you up. Your thighs clenched involuntarily as heat licked up your spine. This nigga was too damn fine, and he knew it. You barely heard whatever the hell he was saying because your brain had short-circuited the second he stepped into the room, muscles on display like some damn fantasy come to life. It wasn’t until his deep voice cut through the fog in your head, low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place, that you realized you were staring.

“You good?”

Your breath hitched abruptly. “H-Huh?”

His hazel-gray eyes flickered over your face, studying you. “You was cryin’?”

You blinked fast, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, trying to play it off. “Uh… yeah. But I’m fine. Just… thinking about my grandma. It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

Terry didn’t say anything right away. He just set your suitcases down near the foot of the bed, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest. His eyes never left your face, unreadable and steady, like he was taking in more than just your words.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, voice softer now. “I know how that feel.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. “You ever lost somebody close?”

His jaw twitched slightly. “Yeah.”

The way he said it—short, clipped, like he wasn’t ready to unpack that—made you nod and let it go. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Just… thick.

Heavy.

Charged.

Terry’s eyes lingered on you a second longer before he exhaled through his nose, pushing off the wall. “Aight, well, if you need help with anything else, just let me know.” He turned to leave, and you should’ve let him go. Should’ve just said thanks and let him walk out. But instead, before you even knew what you were doing, the words tumbled out.

“Terry.”

He stopped, looking at you over his shoulder, brow raised slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, lips parting, then closing again as you tried to figure out what the hell you were even about to say. You just… didn’t want to be alone. Not right now.

“…Never mind,” you murmured, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”

Terry didn’t press. He just gave you a long, lingering look before nodding once.

“Aight, then.” And with that, he walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the lingering heat he’d left in the room.

“Heavenly father give me the strength.” You sighed, flopping backwards on the old childhood bed. You had no idea how you were not only going to survive cleaning out your grandmother’s home of history, and memories. But now you had to figure out how you were going to do all of that with an extremely sexy and fine added edition to the puzzle. Your nana always had a way of being funny, even in the afterlife it seemed.

The heat had been relentless all day, and after everything—the long drive, the tension with your mother, the weight of being back in this house—you needed to wash it all away. Stepping into the shower, you let the cool water run over your skin, sighing as it soothed you, easing the sticky film of sweat and stress clinging to your body. The scent of your Dove vanilla & shea body wash filled the air, mixing with the lingering humidity as you lathered yourself, fingers gliding over curves that you tried not to think too much about. But the moment you stepped out and reached for your towel, reality smacked you in the face. It barely fit. You huffed, tugging at the edges, trying to cover as much as possible, but no matter how you adjusted, something was exposed. Your thighs, thick and soft. The curve of your ass peeking from the bottom. Your cleavage straining against the top. Your mother’s voice slithered into your head, uninvited.

You need to do something about that weight. A man isn’t going to want all that.

You swallowed, turning toward the mirror, your fingers instinctively gripping the towel tighter as you stared at your reflection. Your stomach wasn’t flat. Your thighs touched. Your arms weren’t slim. Maybe she was right. Maybe— A sharp knock at the door startled you, making you jump. Before you could even react, the door swung open.

Terry stepped inside like he owned the place, holding an envelope, his mouth already moving. “Your Nana left you a letter, figured you’d—” His words stopped short. His entire body stilled. Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know if it was the shock of him barging in unannounced or the way his stormy gray, hazel-green eyes flicked down—slow and deliberate, like a man taking in a sight he knew he wasn’t supposed to see but couldn’t help himself. His gaze dragged over you, over the bare curve of your thighs, the deep dip of your cleavage, the towel that did little to hide any of it. And for a split second—just a split second—you saw sensual lust. Something dark and unreadable flashing in his eyes before he blinked it away, locking his expression into something neutral. Like he hadn’t just been openly devouring you with his eyes.

“Terry, what the hell?! Ever heard of knocking?” You yanked the towel tighter, heat rushing to your face. His gaze lifted to yours, slow and unbothered, as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his biceps flexing just enough to make you want to scream.

“Didn’t know you’d be indecent,” he said smoothly, though his voice was just the slightest bit rougher than before.

“I just got out the shower!” you hissed, shifting your weight, hyper-aware of how exposed you were. “What do you want?”

Terry, still infuriatingly relaxed, held up the envelope. “Your Nana left you a letter. I was instructed that soon as you arrive to give it to you.”

You glared. “And you couldn’t wait until I wasn’t half-naked before busting up in here?”

He shrugged, eyes glinting with something too smug for your liking. “Wasn’t expecting a show.”

Your mouth fell open. “Boy, if you don’t—”

“You gon’ take this letter or keep fussin’?” he interrupted, stepping closer, holding the envelope just out of reach like he wanted to make you work for it.

You snatched it from his hand, still scowling. “Get out.”

But he didn’t move right away.

Instead, his gaze lingered, just for a second too long. Just enough to make your thighs press together, to make your skin prickle with awareness. Then, finally, he turned to leave. But right before stepping out, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk damn near lethal.

“Nice towel, by the way.” And just like that, he was gone.

You stood there, heart pounding, body still tingling from the heat of his stare.

This man was gonna be a problem, you thought to yourself. You flopped down on the bed, still clutching the towel like it was the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind.

“That nigga done lost his damn mind,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Barging in here like he payin’ rent.” Your body was still humming from the intensity of his stare, the way he’d looked at you like he saw everything and had the nerve to act like it ain’t affect him. Like he wasn’t phased, but you knew he was. And now, here you were, sitting on your old bed, legs still damp from the shower, wrapped up in this raggedy-ass towel, heart still racing. You sighed, finally turning your attention to the envelope in your lap. Your childhood nickname was written in familiar, neat cursive across the front.

Your heart clenched as a lump formed in your throat. Your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it, pulling out a piece of aged, cream-colored paper. You could almost smell her as you unfolded it—cocoa butter, vanilla, and something soft, like the scent of home. Then you began to read.

My Sweet Sunshine,

If you’re reading this, that means the Good Lord finally saw fit to call me home. Now, don’t you go sittin’ there cryin’, ‘cause you know I lived a full life, and I ain’t scared of no Heaven. I done raised my babies, spoiled my grandbabies, and loved with my whole heart. That’s more than some folks ever get to do.

Sunshine, I know you didn’t want to come back here. I know that city’s got its hooks in you, and I ain’t mad at it—never was. You always had big dreams, always wanted more than this little town could offer. But baby, don’t you ever let nobody make you feel like you ain’t enough just as you are. Not your mama, not them folks whisperin’ behind your back, nobody.

You always was my bright star, even when you ain’t see it yourself. Even when you was a little thing, sittin’ on my porch, talkin’ ‘bout how you didn’t feel pretty enough, or small enough, or good enough. I used to tell you then, and I’ll tell you now—you are enough. God made you just the way you s’posed to be. Don’t let the world tell you otherwise.

Now, about this house—I know it might not mean much to you right now, but baby, this ain’t just wood and nails. This is our history. This is where I loved your granddaddy, where I raised your daddy, where I held you in my arms and rocked you to sleep when life got too big for you. It ain’t just a house—it’s home.

I don’t expect you to stay forever, but I do expect you to sit with it for a little while. Let the memories wrap around you. Let yourself feel whatever you been runnin’ from. And don’t you let nobody make you do nothin’ you don’t wanna do. Not even your mama.

Take your time, baby. I love you bigger than the sky.

Always, Nana

Tears blurred your vision before you even finished. You pressed the letter to your chest, inhaling shakily…She knew… She always knew. And just like that, all the emotions you’d been pushing down, all the grief, all the anger, all the damn confusion, came bubbling up to the surface. You curled your legs up onto the bed, hugging the letter like it was the last piece of her you had left. And for the first time since you got here… you let yourself cry.

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you pulled yourself together, slipping into a simple oversized ‘90s-themed graphic T-shirt that stopped just below your ass, paired with black boy shorts that hugged your curves. Your fur slides slid easily onto your feet, accentuating the shimmer of your two delicate anklets against your smooth brown skin. Your toes, freshly done in a clean French acrylic set, peeked out perfectly, proof that even on your worst days, you refused to neglect the little things that made you feel like you. Your damp curls were drying into their natural coils, wild and free, and for the first time since stepping into this house, you felt somewhat like yourself again. Then, just as you were about to head downstairs, voices floated up from the front door. A woman’s voice. Sweet, a little too breathy, laced with the kind of forced shyness that women used when they were trying to be cute. You paused, leaning slightly against the railing as you listened.

“Terry, you really ain’t have to do all that. I swear, you a lifesaver.”

“Mmhmm,” came Terry’s deep, unbothered reply.

You stepped forward just enough to peek over the banister, instantly rolling your eyes at the sight in front of you. A woman—slim, with long curly hair cascading down her back, a high round booty sitting just right, and a rack that was damn near spilling out of her little sundress—was standing way too close to Terry, handing him a plate wrapped in foil. And the way she was looking at him? Yeah. She was on that.

“Oh, and here’s the money I promised you.” She slipped a few bills into his hand, her fingers lingering a little too long against his palm. “And I made you a little something as a thank you… some smothered pork chops, greens, mac and cheese, and cornbread.”

You smirked slightly. Cornbread looking a little dry.

Terry took the plate with a nod, glancing down at it. “Appreciate it, Celeste.”

Celeste. Figures.

She bit her lip, her eyes scanning over him like he was a damn menu. “And I made a little pound cake too. My mama’s recipe. But I guess you’ll just have to tell me how it tastes next time I see you.”

You sucked your teeth. Girl, be for real.

Terry, still unreadable as ever, just smirked slightly, shifting the plate to one hand. “I’ll let you know.”

Celeste giggled, reaching up to play with a stray curl like she knew she was the baddest thing standing in that doorway. “You know, Terry… you should really stop by sometime. I got plenty of food, and my son’s at his grandma’s for the summer, so…” She trailed off, her meaning clear. You folded your arms, arching a brow as you waited to see how he was gonna play it.

Terry, ever cool, leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe, looking down at her with a knowing expression. “That right?”

She nodded, batting her lashes. “Mmhmm. You know, a man like you shouldn’t have to eat alone.”

Terry exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Celeste.”

“Hmm?” She replied breathily, trying to act innocent.

“I ain’t interested.” The words landed so casually, so smoothly, that for a second, she didn’t even process them.

But then her lips parted slightly, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment. “Oh… um, well…”

“But I do appreciate the food,” he added, nodding toward the plate. “Your little boy needed that room fixed up, so it wasn’t no big deal.”

Celeste recovered quickly, forcing a laugh. “Right, right. Well, um… enjoy, Terry.”

He gave her a simple nod before closing the door, shaking his head as he turned toward the kitchen. You, still standing at the top of the stairs, watched the whole thing unfold, biting back a smirk. Celeste was pretty, no doubt. Probably more his type. But the way he had shut her down so smoothly? Interesting…. Very interesting. You padded down the stairs, moving casually into the kitchen, acting like you hadn’t just been eavesdropping on that whole embarrassing exchange. Terry was standing at the counter, peeling back the foil on the plate, and the expression on his face had you fighting back a laugh. He looked… disturbed. You leaned against the fridge, arms folded as you watched him poke at the smothered pork chops with his fork. The sauce looked a little too gray for comfort, the mac and cheese had a strange, gluey texture, and the cornbread? Yeah… dry as hell. He let out a slow breath, tilting the plate slightly as if inspecting it under better lighting was gonna change the fact that it looked like a crime scene.

“Damn, she really put her whole heart into that, huh?” You smirked.

Terry cut his eyes at you, his expression flat. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, moving toward the cabinets. “I’m just sayin’. If you value your life, you might wanna pass on that.”

He set the plate down, shaking his head. “Damn shame. I did all that work and got paid in food poisoning.”

You chuckled, pulling out a pan and setting it on the stove. “Lucky for you, I actually know how to cook.”

Terry leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Oh yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, boy. I can throw down. What you want?”

He smirked slightly. “Something that won’t require me to get my stomach pumped.”

“Keep talkin’ shit, and I’ma lace your food with extra salt.” You shot him a playful glare, going towards the fridge to see if there was even anything cookable for you to whip up a quick meal. Terry chuckled, watching you move around the kitchen with an ease that he could appreciate.

“Aight, then little mama. Let’s see what’chu workin with.” He joked, licking his plump bottom lip. You fought the surge of butterflies in your tummy as your french acrylic nails gripped the counter, to steady yourself. Turning toward the fridge, you pull it open and blink in surprise at the contents—fresh meats, crisp produce, eggs, dairy. Whoever stocked this place before you arrived really knew what they were doing.

“You did all this?” You softly ask, glancing over your shoulder at Terry.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Had groceries delivered before you got here. Figured you’d want a stocked fridge.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let that small, thoughtful gesture soften you. Instead, you hum and start pulling out the ingredients.

“Alright,” you say, setting things down on the counter. “I’m making honey-glazed salmon, garlic butter asparagus, and jasmine rice.”

Terry raises an eyebrow. “Hony glazed?”

You smirk, not letting him off the hook. “What? You thought I was only good for frying chicken and making cornbread?”

His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “Didn’t say that.”

“Mm-hmm.” You grab a cutting board and get to work, dicing, seasoning, and moving around the kitchen like it’s second nature. The wine Nana he had ordered as well was surprisingly good, and after a few sips, the tension from the day starts to slipped off your shoulders.

Terry watches you, quiet at first, before finally speaking up. “So… what kept you away?”

You pause for only a second before continuing to chop the asparagus. “What do you mean?”

“From your Nana. You used to visit all the time, then you just stopped.” His eyes don’t waver. The question hits harder than you expect.

You swallow and focus on the cutting board. “My mom.”

Terry stays quiet, just waiting, giving you the space to continue.

You sigh, stirring the honey glaze in a small saucepan. “Nana was my dad’s mother. When he died, my mom didn’t see the point in us coming down here anymore. She never liked my Nana anyway.”

“Why?” His eyebrow perked up.

You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head. “Because she’s an elitist. My mom grew up privileged, went to the best schools, rubbed elbows with all the right people. She married my dad because he was successful, but she never respected where he came from. And when he passed, she made it clear that his side of the family didn’t fit into her world.”

Terry’s gaze feels heavy, and the weight of it makes your throat tighten.

You flip the salmon in the pan, watching the glaze caramelize. “I wanted to come back,” you admit softly. “I always told myself I would. I promised Nana I’d visit.” You exhale shakily. “But life kept getting in the way… and now, I’ll never get that time back.”

The silence that follows is thick—understanding without pity, heavy without pressure.

You wipe the corner of your eye before turning to face him fully. “But, um… I don’t really wanna keep digging into that.” You force a small smile. “What about you? How the hell did you end up here, taking care of my grandma and her land?”

Terry is quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he speaks.

“I got out the Marines a few years ago,” he says, his voice steady. “Came back home, trying to get my life right, but shit has a way of following me...”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist.

“What do you mean? Shit like what?” You cautiously questioned, not wanting to get all up in this man’s business, but at the same time you felt you had the slightest right. Terry stayed quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he spoke.

“My cousin got into some trouble with the law a few years back,” he said, voice steady. “I went down to bail him out, but I ended up getting into some shit myself. Crooked-ass cops—racist bastards—decided they ain’t like me asking too many questions. Things got ugly real fast.”

Something about the way he says it made your stomach twist. “How bad did it get?”

Terry’s hazel-green eyes darken, something distant flickering in them. “Damn near died over it,” he says, voice calm but heavy.

“Oh, I’m um.. sorry to hear that.” You felt bad for even asking. Terry only hummed in response as a somewhat comfortable silence fell over the kitchen. You decided to drop the 21 questions all together and focus on finishing up the meal you were in the midst of preparing as he just quietly watched every move you made. The air inside the house was cooler than the sticky, suffocating heat outside, but it wasn’t enough to stop the slow trickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. Or maybe… just maybe… it wasn’t the weather making me feel like you were burning up. You could feel Terry watching you intently. It wasn’t obvious at first—he was too smooth for that. But after a while, you noticed the weight of his gaze, the way his stormy eyes followed every move you made as you prepped the food. His attention was heavy, unreadable, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was the opposite. It made you hot. You shifted my weight from one foot to the other, clearing your throat as you reached for the bottle of wine, pouring yourself another sip just to have something to do. Everything about this man was turning you on and you loved it and despised it. It wasn’t just the fact that he was tall—though he was definitely tall, standing at least 6’3 with a solid frame that made it clear he was no stranger to manual labor. It wasn’t just the broadness of his shoulders or the way his arms stretched the fabric of his white tank, hinting at thick, corded muscle beneath. And it wasn’t just his face, though damn—that strong jawline, full lips, and a nose that looked like it belonged on a king? Yeah, he was definitely blessed in the looks department. But it was his presence that caught you off guard. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man you could read at a glance. His face was unreadable, expression calm yet watchful, like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room. His stormy hazel-gray eyes, rimmed with thick lashes, carried something unreadable—something sharp, calculating. And depending on how the light hit them, they almost looked ocean blue, like a hurricane was brewing behind them, waiting to be unleashed. But right now, that intensity was locked onto you. And that shit made your stomach flip.

You turned back to the stove, pretending like the weight of his gaze wasn’t burning a hole straight through your back. The kitchen was already hot as hell, but somehow, his presence made the air feel even thicker. The pot on the stove let out a soft simmer, the scent of garlic, onions, and seasoning filling the air, but you barely noticed it because Terry was still watching you. And you felt all of it. His gaze wasn’t casual. It wasn’t some absentminded glance or a passing curiosity. No, he was studying you, eyes moving slow over every dip and curve like he had all the time in the world. You weren’t new to male attention, but the way he did it? This wasn’t some hungry, obvious ogling. This was different. Intentional. Like he was learning you. Like he was figuring out what made you tick, what made you fidget, what made you heat up. And Lord, were you heating up. You adjusted your stance, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, but that only made things worse because you didn’t know he was the type of man who appreciated a body like yours. The type that saw thick thighs, wide hips, and soft curves and lingered—the kind that recognized a woman built to carry healthy babies and be just as healthy herself. And sure enough, when you glanced over your shoulder, you caught him licking his lips, eyes still locked on you like you were a full-course meal, and he was starving.

“Damn, you gon’ cook everything in the kitchen?” His voice rumbled from behind you, smooth and deep, with that natural Southern drawl that could make a woman’s knees buckle if she wasn’t careful.

You smirked, turning back to the pot. “You got a problem with a woman feeding you?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the air. “Nah, just surprised. Didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

You scoffed, stirring the food. “Just ‘cause I can cook don’t mean I’m tryna play house with you, sir.”

That chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. You were too aware of him now, of the space between you and the way it was closing, little by little. The heat of his body was at your back before you even realized he had moved, and suddenly, his voice was right at your ear.

“You need any help?” His deep voice reverberated.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers tightening around the spoon as his presence seemed to take up all the air in the kitchen. His body was close—too close, his heat pressing against your back, his sheer size making you feel small, even though you weren’t a small woman. The scent of his cologne—dark, musky, and clean—wrapped around you, making your head swim for a brief second. For just a moment, the energy in the room shifted. A slow, charged moment where neither of you moved, where the only sounds were the bubbling of the food on the stove and the quiet, measured breaths between you. It was subtle but impossible to ignore—the low hum of something heavy, something thick and unspoken. Then, just as quickly as it came, it passed. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus, though you swore you felt him smirk behind you.

“I got it,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even. Terry didn’t move at first, letting the moment sit before he finally stepped back, his absence somehow just as noticeable as his presence.

“Aight then,” he murmured, his voice amused.

But even as he walked away, you could feel his gaze still on you. And something told you that this slow-burn tension between you? It was just getting started. After about twenty minutes, the food is finally done, the kitchen filled with the warm, savory aroma of glazed salmon and buttered asparagus. You take your time plating everything carefully, making sure it looks just as good as it smells. Since Terry is your guest, you serve his plate first, sliding it across the counter toward him before pouring yourself another small glass of wine.

“You tryna impress me or somethin’?” he teases, eyeing the plate like he don’t quite trust it yet.

You roll your eyes, lifting your glass. “Boy, please. If I wanted to impress you, I would’ve pulled out the big guns.”

His brows lift slightly. “This ain’t the big guns?”

“Not even close.”You smirk. Terry hums like he’s considering that, then finally picks up his fork and takes a bite. He chews slowly, his face unreadable, and you find yourself leaning in slightly, waiting for his reaction.

After a few beats, he nods. “Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is good.”

You wink cutely, sipping your wine. “Told you I wouldn’t let you die in my care.”

He chuckles, deep and smooth, before digging into his plate with more enthusiasm. You pretend not to notice the way his biceps flex when he moves, how his jaw tenses up when he chews. You felt your clit pulse at the way his lips became glazed over from the moistness of the salmon.

“Told you I know what I’m doing,” you added with a nervous giggle, watching him enjoy the meal as you tried to push the naughty thoughts back and out of your mental crevices.

Terry smirks, setting his fork down just long enough to meet your gaze. “I don’t know yet. You cookin’ good, but that don’t mean you can really throw down. Anybody can follow a recipe.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth dropped open slightly.

He shrugs, eyes dancing with amusement. “I mean, this is cute and all, but I don’t see no mac and cheese, no smothered chicken, no collard greens. Where the food that’ll have a man ready to sign over his life?”

You narrow your eyes, setting down your glass. “Oh nigga, you really talkin’ reckless now.”

He leans in slightly, grin widening. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You just saying what, exactly? That I gotta cook like somebody’s Big Mama before you give me my flowers?” You scoffed, fighting your smile.

Terry’s eyes flickered towards you with something unreadable, something dark and playful all at once. “I’m just saying… if you wanna prove you really got skills, you might have to cook for me again.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “Oh, I see what this is. You tryna finesse another plate outta me.”

He smirks, grabbing his fork again. “Maybe.”

You fold your arms, eyeing him. “What do I get outta this arrangement?”

Terry lifts a brow, chewing another bite of salmon before answering. “What you want?” His voice dropping down to an even lower, sleek register. The sudden change shot an electric current straight to your pussy, making it moist and slippery. Although your lips below quivered and ached to be touched, you kept a pokerface.

“Hmm. Let’s see… If I’m cooking, then you’re cleaning.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think.

“Nah. Try again.” He scoffed.

“Uh-uh. I think that’s fair. You eat, you clean.” You playfully pouted, making him crack a small smirk at you.

“I fixed your grandma’s whole damn house. Ain’t that enough?” He countered, tone heavily amused.

You smirk, enjoying this way too much. “Oh, so now you keeping score?”

Terry leans in a little, his stormy ocean eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that makes the air between you tighten. “Nah, sweetheart. Just making sure I know what the stakes are.”

Your stomach flipped, causing heat to crawl slowly up your spine. This man was absolute trouble, and not the good kind. This man was the type to have you outside of his job, throwing bricks through his car window because he ain’t answer quick enough for your liking. This wasn’t no young nigga you were used to , this was big dawg.

You picked up your wine glass again, taking a slow sip. “Well, you let me know when you’re ready for that real meal. But just so you know… once I really start cooking for you?” You lean in slightly, voice dropping to something softer, silkier.. Almost wet and seducing. “Ain’t no going back.”

Terry’s smirk deepens, his gaze dropping—just for a second—to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes.

“That right?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, feeling your pulse kicking up. You knew you had to get out of this here kitchen before you did something stupid.

Pushing off the counter, you grab your own plate. “Eat your food, Terry.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he digs back in. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I’m forgetting this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, turning away—but not before catching the way he watches you, heat flickering behind that cool, unreadable expression.

Yeah, this is nigga here was definitely trouble. As you take your plate and head toward the table, you can still feel Terry’s eyes on you, the weight of his gaze heavy against your skin. You tell yourself you’re imagining it, that the warmth curling low in your belly is just the wine and not the way his voice dipped when he said that right. But then, just as you sit down, he speaks again—low, teasing, but laced with something else. Something thicker.

“Hope you know what you just started.”

You pause, your fork hovering over your plate, your pulse skipping before quickening. When you finally look up, Terry’s already focused on his food like he ain’t just sent a shiver down your spine. And just like that, the game had officially begun. You might’ve thought you were just cooking a meal, just having a little harmless banter over dinner—but Terry? He had other plans. The way he said it, the way his voice dipped into something slow and rich like molasses, told you plain as day that this was just the start. And whether you were ready for it or not…

Things were about to get real interesting.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 17: Alone

Summary: Your pack has left on their first deployment since you joined them, leaving you alone on base.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, nightmares, PTSD, trauma, just super depressing overall.

A/N: I'm so ready for these next two chapters, you have no idea. Things are happening, things are gonna happen, it's just...so good. You'll see 🤭. They're pretty heavy chapters emotionally, but don't worry fluff will be coming very soon. I won't leave you hanging too much for too long.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“We'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. Dr. Keller will take you to and from meals and anywhere else you may need to go. If you need anything, contact Kate. We'll call when we can.” 

He leaves you with a kiss to your forehead. You’re forced to stand there and watch his back as he boards the plane, the ramp closing and sealing you off from them. They all looked guilty, as if it was their fault they had to leave, as if they were suffering as much as you at the idea of parting, even just for a short period of time.

You don't sleep that night. You lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling until far too late when you decide to abandon it for John's room instead. You slip under the covers, disrupting the immaculately made bed as you surround yourself with his scent. You’re on edge, the barracks far too quiet, far too empty. Every little sound has you tensing, holding your breath. The door is locked, yet it’s not the same without your pack there to protect you. If you scream, no one will hear you now. 

You manage to fall asleep at some point in the early hours, your mind plagued with horrible nightmares of monsters devouring and tearing you apart. 

You wake with the sun, dragging your feet back to your room. You miss the quiet sounds of your boys getting ready in the morning after their workouts, taking extra care not to be too loud. Now you wish for it. You want them to be loud and wake you, because then they’d be here with you. The hallway feels too empty, the barracks too large. You’ve spent plenty of time alone in the barracks, but it’s never felt like this. They’re not just across base from you, they’re probably in an entirely different country. 

You stare at their closed doors, all four of them feeling like voids knowing the rooms behind them are empty. Even Ghost’s closed door feels particularly empty. 

You shuffle into your room, locking the door behind you as you get ready for the day. You’re not quite sure what you’re going to do, now that you don’t have them around. You suppose you could just go about your day as you usually do while they’re at training, except you won’t have their inevitable return to fetch you for meals to look forward to. 

It’ll be days before you see them again. 

If you see them again. 

You force that thought back into the recesses of your mind. You won’t entertain it, not now while you’re still trying to process the fact that they’re gone. Even if it is a possibility. 

You’re sitting on your bed when the knock comes, clutching your phone in your hand. You don’t want to be without it, in case they call. You don’t want to miss a chance to talk to them, especially if it’s your only chance. Or a call from Kate telling you something happened.

You open the door, Dr. Keller standing in the hallway with a small smile on her face. It doesn’t feel strange having her in this space, even with the rest of your pack gone. She’s been here before, and you trust her. 

“How are you doing?” She asks as you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. 

“I don’t know.” You say, letting out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“I don’t blame you. Feels strange, being alone here, huh?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It’s too quiet. Too empty.” 

“I bet.” You follow her out of the barracks and into the cool morning air. “Let’s get some food in you and then you can take it easy for the rest of the day. I know this is a big adjustment, and it happened rather suddenly.” 

“Was gonna happen eventually, though.” You say. “For the three months I was with the CIA, they drilled it into my head that their job would always take priority over everything else. Still sucks.” 

“It does. Separation is hard for everyone in a pack, even if it’s short term. Add on the stress of their jobs and I can only imagine what it’s like.” 

“I’m trying not to think about that.” You say. 

“I think that’s the best thing you can do right now.” She squeezes your arm. “Come on, we’ll get the food to go and we’ll eat in my office. I usually do that anyway. It’s much quieter than the mess.” 

You get your breakfast, following Dr. Keller to the medical center. You are silently glad you won’t have to eat in the mess without the protection of your pack. The stares from the others might have been your tipping point, and without Ghost to scare them off, you’re sure it would have only been worse.  

“Make yourself at home.” Dr. Keller says, letting you into her office. “You can sit at the desk to eat, if that’s more comfortable. I don’t mind.” 

You take her up on the offer, sitting in the chair across from hers at the desk. She moves some papers out of the way before taking a seat herself. It feels almost strange, being so informal in her office, but then again, she’s always been more laid back with the formality between the two of you. 

“If there’s one thing I miss, it’s good diner food.” Dr. Keller says as the two of you begin to eat. 

You stare down at your porridge for a moment, having gotten used to the change in food over the last almost nine weeks. “I miss a lot of things.” 

“Would you ever want to go back and visit America?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure they’d take you, if you asked.” She smiles as you stare up at her in surprise. “I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do, if you asked. They care about you a lot.” 

“I’m starting to realize that.” You say. 

“Good. It’s reassuring to see such strong, natural bonds forming between all of you, despite how the situation came about. You’ve made a lot of good progress already, even with the few bumps in the road.” 

It falls silent between the two of you as you eat, finishing your breakfast. Your stomach churns with anxiety, hand closing around the phone in your pocket as if it might ring at any moment. It makes you sick, the thought of what they might be doing, what might be happening right at this very moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” You break the silence, needing to take your mind off your swirling thoughts. 

“Of course.” She says, looking up from the papers she’d been looking through. 

“Since I’m your only patient, what do you do all day?” You ask. 

She smiles. “I do a lot of things. After our sessions I log the notes I take and read over them, I make sure your medical chart is up to date, I read through a lot of studies and journals on new research and methods that may be helpful, I talk to colleagues all over the world, including here on base, and I sometimes go around the medical center and sit in on meetings and classes to keep my skills sharp.” 

“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting your skills here?” 

She shakes her head. “No. Before I took this job, I was caring for sometimes over one hundred omegas at various institutes. It was a high stress environment with long hours. While it was fulfilling work, there’s a high turnover rate for Omega Specialists in that field for a reason. Being a private doctor is a bit of a relief after that, and truthfully, the pay is considerably better.” She folds her arms on her desk, leaning forward. “It’s no less fulfilling than working at institutes. It’s nice to have the time to put together the best care plan for you and your needs.” 

“It is nice having an Omega Specialist to myself.” You say. “There were several at the institute, a lot of students doing their residency. They weren’t always...good at their jobs. A lot of them were just going through the motions, doing what the more experienced specialists told them to do.” 

“Unfortunately that’s rather common with residents.” She says. “Most of them don’t make it past residency. Like a lot of specialities in medicine, it takes a certain kind of personality to succeed as an Omega Specialist. Not everyone has it in them. I wish more schools and programs would take notice earlier before they get to their residencies and steer them down a different path.” She smiles at you. “Now my question for you. Would you rather hang out in here today, or would you prefer to go back to the barracks? You won’t hurt my feelings either way, nor will you be a bother.” 

You think about it for a moment. While your knee jerk answer is to go back to the barracks, what are you going to do? Sit alone in the silence and worry until it makes you sick? Sit in the rec room and watch TV alone and worry about your boys until the next meal time? As much as you want to be alone, you also don’t want to be alone. 

“I’d...like to stay here, if that’s okay?” You finally say, making your decision. 

“More than okay.” She smiles. “Make yourself at home, do whatever you’d like. Watch YouTube videos, dig into some books, take a nap. You won’t bother me in the slightest. You’re always welcome to hang out in here.” 

You look over the titles on the bookshelf, picking one that looks interesting before settling on the couch. You spend the day with Dr. Keller, relaxing in her office and going to meals with her. It doesn’t calm the anxious thoughts by much, but at least the loneliness is abated a bit. 

You return to the barracks after dinner, debating whether you should sit in the rec room or just go to your room. The rec room feels too open, too exposed without the safety of your pack, so instead you choose to retreat into your room, locking the door behind you. 

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as tears gather in your eyes. Another night without them, another night without the safety and comfort of their presence around you. Another night knowing they’re not on the other side of the wall, a knock or a yell away. 

You fight the panic starting to bubble as you get ready for bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of something happening, someone breaking in, someone taking advantage of their absence to get to you. You know it’s an irrational fear. Most of the alphas on base ignore your existence, aside from the couple incidents you’ve had with them. The most they do is stare, though that’s to be expected as an omega. 

What if they’re holding back something more sinister, though? What if the only thing stopping them is your pack? This would be their opportune moment. 

You’re shaking, eyes wide in fear as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you’ve learned a few ways to defend yourself, but could you really utilize them? If the moment called for it, could you defend yourself enough to get away? Where would you go? Dr. Keller won’t be in her office all night. Could you run and seek protection from another medical professional that was still working? Could you find a different high ranking official on base and hope they’d help you? Could you go for the guards at the gate and hope they help you? 

Or would it be safer to run for the woods? Try to lose whichever alpha decided to attack you and hope you don’t get lost in the trees? You would just have to survive the night, and Dr. Keller would notice you missing come morning. What would she do, though? Call Kate? It’s not like the guys could just come home and help you. Would Kate even tell them something happened and put them at risk of getting distracted? What if something happened to them because of you? 

You turn the shower on as cold as it will go, stepping under the spray in your pajamas. You sink to the floor of the shower, letting the cold water snap you out of your panic and prevent you from distressing. No one’s coming through the door, no one’s going to try and hurt you. 

Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach up to turn the water off. Violent shivers rock your body, your hands and feet numb. You take deep breaths, feeling more awake and aware than you have since yesterday. 

The panic has dropped to almost nothing, your shaking now due to the fact you’re freezing. You strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them in the tub as you wrap a towel around yourself. You’re still shivering violently as you change into warmer pajamas, opting for one of John’s shirts and sweatpants. 

You slip under the covers of your bed, piling every blanket you own on top of the covers before tucking yourself against your giant bear. You won’t sleep, but at least you’re not panicking anymore. 

The days begin to blend together without the routine of your pack to keep you steady. Dr. Keller comes to get you at the same time as you expect for your breakfast, and then you spend all day with her, sitting in her office, keeping yourself occupied while you wait for an inevitable phone call. It will either be your pack calling to check on you, or it will be Kate with bad news. 

You’re not sure which is worse. The anticipation of a call from your pack letting you know they’re all alright, or the dread that it will be Kate telling you something happened to them. 

You’re still not sleeping well, the anxiety and the worry you might miss their call meshing with the nightmares that were already plaguing you before they left. You’re exhausted and strung out, the worry beginning to eat you alive. You’re constantly on edge, every little sound close to sending you spiraling. 

Your thoughts have slowly shifted from missing your pack to ruminating about the fact they might not be coming back. It’s a risk you’re well aware of. The kinds of things they do put them at risk, every deployment carries the risk of one, or all of them, dying. One thing goes wrong, one small freak accident and your entire pack could be taken from you. 

You’re not sure you’d survive that. 

Most omegas don’t. 

“Still nothing?” Dr. Keller asks as you sit there, staring at your phone for what must have been an hour at least. 

You shake your head. “Nothing.” 

“Sometimes no news is good news.” She says. “I know you’d prefer to have any news at all, though.” 

“I can’t stop thinking...what if something bad has happened?” You say, fingers trembling from gripping your phone so hard. 

“Kate promised she’d call if something happened, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“She’s a woman of her word, I can say that much. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re very capable soldiers. They wouldn’t be in Spec Ops if they weren’t, much less on a highly specialized team.” Dr. Keller stands up, moving to the closet. “It’s still hard, not knowing where they are or what they’re doing. I remember when my brother told our parents he was enlisting. Our mother cried for a week straight.” She pulls a pillow and a blanket out of the closet. “I still don’t think she’s completely forgiven him. It’s hard for omegas when someone leaves the pack, even temporarily, especially if you can’t have constant reassurance that they’re alright.” 

Your brows pinch in a frown at her words as she kneels on the floor beside the couch. “Your mom was an omega?” 

She nods. “And dad was a beta. Wound up with two beta children, though I don’t think mom complained much about that. We grew up in a big pack with lots of people around us. I think mom would have been worse off if it had just been her and dad.” She sets the pillow on the couch, gently prying the phone from your fingers. “Come on, lay down.” She directs you. 

You do as she says, laying down on the couch, resting your head on the pillow. She covers you with the blanket, tucking it up around your neck. “Is that why you’re so good at this job?” 

She smiles, setting your phone on the arm of the couch above your head. “Maybe. I think it gave me more empathy for omegas and the struggles you face every day.” She gently squeezes your arm. “They’ll be alright. They’re probably just as worried about you, as you are them. But, you need to get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, just laying with your eyes closed will help.” 

You tilt your head, glancing up at your phone. “What if I fall asleep and it rings?” 

“Then I’ll make sure you get a chance to answer it.” She says, squeezing your arm again. “I promise. Get some rest.” 

You let out a breath, not wanting to risk falling asleep, but you close your eyes anyway. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming on, the nightmarish images the anxiety feeds your brain flashing before your eyes. What if they’re lying dead somewhere right now? What if something’s happened to Kate and she can’t tell you? Would you ever find out? Would you ever know? 

Despite the anxiety prickling through your body, the warmth of the blanket begins to lull you into a false sense of security. Perhaps it’s the sheer exhaustion from your lack of sleep over the last couple weeks, paired with the exhaustion from your constant worrying, but you find yourself slipping between sleep and consciousness as you lay there on Dr. Keller’s couch. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help it as you begin to drift off to sleep. 

Screaming. It’s loud, piercing your ears. Something’s holding you, hands clutching at your form desperately. It hurts, nails biting into your skin, fingers gripping too hard, yet you don’t care. 

“You won’t take her from me! I won’t let you!”

You’re crying, sobs wracking your body as you cling just as tightly to the form holding you. 

Hands grab at you, squeezing and pulling, trying to free you from the constricting grip around you, but it won’t let go. You cling to it just as desperately, afraid of what will happen if you let go. 

You know what will happen if you let go. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” 

The words bite into you, slicing through your skin straight into your very soul, the prickling pain of your own flesh and blood rejecting you making your skin crawl. How could he just let you go like that? How could he turn against you so easily, over something you have no control over? 

Pain erupts across your entire body. Something snaps, your ears ringing from more screams. You’re being pulled away from the safety of the hold around you, your body going cold as the warmth around you disappears. Hands close around you, fingers ripping into you as you're torn from your mother’s hold and into the unknown. 

“Easy, easy.” 

You’re gasping, breathing wheezing as tears choke you. 

“Deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow.” 

Your breath hitches, catching painfully in your chest. 

“You’re alright, you’re safe.” 

You force your eyes open, blinded by tears as something is tucked into your arms. You squeeze the bear against your chest, hiccuping as you fight for control over your emotions. You’re on the couch in Dr. Keller’s office still. You’re not at what was once your home, not stuck in the nightmare you’ve lived over and over. 

Slowly breathing becomes easier, your sobs quieting to sniffles. The tears still spill down your cheeks, dampening the fur of the bear in your arms. 

“You’re alright,” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back gently. 

You slowly push yourself up to sit, pulling your knees against your chest. You press your palms into your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. Dr. Keller shifts her position, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” She asks quietly, watching you as you try to calm yourself. 

“Since my heat.” You say, voice rough from crying. You wrap your arms around the bear again, holding onto it tightly. 

“You haven’t said anything about it.” She says gently, shifting slightly so she’s facing you. 

“I didn’t want to.” You say quietly, shame burning through you. She’s not reprimanding you, yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t be having them, I mean...it’s not even that bad compared to...compared to what the others have gone through. The kinds of nightmares they have.” 

“It might seem that way to you, but trauma is still trauma. It might not be the worst thing someone else has gone through, but it is the worst thing you’ve been through.” 

Her words give you pause. You’ve never quite thought of it that way. The kinds of things your pack does, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve done, are far worse than anything you’ve experienced. The things you’ve experienced may pale in comparison, but they’re your experiences. No one else’s. 

“If you want to talk about them, that’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Keller says, leaving things open for you to decide what to do. 

You don’t have to tell her. She won’t force you to do it. She won’t force you to do anything, to say anything you don’t want to. It might be nice, though, to let someone know, someone neutral, someone who won’t tell anyone else. It might be nice to finally put into words the things that are eating you, have been eating you. 

You lay back down, curling up into a tight ball on the couch. You hug the bear close to your chest, letting it ground you. “My nightmares, they’re always about the day I left for the institute.” You start, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had them in years.” 

“You were sent early after your presentation, right?” She asks. 

“The day after.” You answer. 

“Being sent to an institute can be traumatic when done within the normal time after presentation. I can’t even imagine what being sent that soon was like.” She lets out a breath. “Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, the brain and body hold onto it, because we don’t feel safe enough to process it in the moment. The brain can hold onto it for years, until we finally feel safe enough. Then the brain can start to try and heal from that trauma without us even realizing it.” 

“You think that’s what’s happening?” You ask. 

“It’s possible. Going through your heat successfully, being claimed, building close bonds with your pack, all could aid in helping you finally feel safe enough to process that trauma. Things usually feel worse as the brain works through the trauma, which could be why you’re having nightmares about that event suddenly.” 

“Is there anything that will make them stop?” You ask. 

“There’s some things we can do together that might help the process. I’m more than happy to help you with it, if that’s what you’d like to do. If you decide to, I think it will be a good idea to set up appointments at least twice a week, at least at first.” 

“What are we gonna tell John?” 

She gives you a look. “Well, I’d advise telling him the truth. I think you should tell your pack about your nightmares. They can at least offer you some comfort and understanding. Of course, that’s entirely up to you and what you want to do.” 

You let out a sigh, getting comfortable on the couch again. Dr. Keller adjusts the blanket over you, squeezing your arm gently. 

“Think about it.” She says. “We can talk about it more after they get back and things have settled back to normal again.” 

You’re brushing your teeth when the call comes. You quickly spit into the sink, not even bothering to rinse your mouth before you’re answering, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You hadn’t even checked the screen to see who was calling. You’re just anxious to hear from someone after days of silence. 

“Hello?” 

There’s a beat of silence before the voice on the other side responds, the audio distant and slightly garbled, but you hardly notice. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

You fight back a sob, your inhale shaky as relief floods through you. “Alpha.” The title slips through your lips before you can even catch it, your body nearly vibrating at hearing John’s voice after so many days. 

“I’m here. We’re all here.” He says, distant voices sounding in the background. 

A smile tugs at your lips, happy tears blurring your eyes as you collapse on your bed. “Missed you.” 

“I know, we’ve missed you too.” 

You move to your bed, flopping down on the mattress in relief. “You alright? Is everyone alright?” 

“We’re alright. Few bumps and bruises, but nothing we haven’t had before. How are you holding up?” 

The urge to spill the truth to him is strong. You’ve been depressed and worried and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that you haven’t panicked about something. You’ve been having horrible nightmares and haven’t been sleeping. There’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you’re afraid it might kill you if you don’t see them soon. 

“I’m alright. Sad cause I miss you a lot.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” There’s a sound on the other end, something you can’t make out and the line buzzes for a second. For a moment you’re worried you were disconnected, but John’s voice cuts through the noise again. “We’re finishing up here soon, and we’ll be home in a couple of days.” 

You can’t help but sigh in relief at his words. They’re alright. They’re all safe, and they’re going to be home soon. You’re going to get to see them soon, touch them again, smell them again. “Hurry back.” You say, your voice shaky with emotion. 

“We’ll try, sweet girl. We have to get going, but we’ll be back before you know it.” 

Saying goodbye doesn't hurt as much as you expect it to. Maybe it’s the relief from hearing their voices, from knowing they’re really alright paired with the knowledge that they’ll be home soon. Two days doesn’t seem so far now that you know that’s all that stands between you and seeing your pack again. 

You roll over in your bed, pressing your face into the pillows. Nothing smells like them anymore. Not their shirts that they scented before they left, not your pillows or stuffed animals. The couch in the rec room, and even John’s bed have started to smell more like you. 

The first thing you’re going to do when they return is get a big whiff of each of them, even if you have to tackle Ghost to do it. You want to refresh their scents all over everything, roll around in them until they’re the only thing you can smell. 

For the first time in days, you manage to sleep that night. It’s not much, but it’s a deep, nightmare-free sleep, aided by the relief from the constant anxiety that has plagued you. 

You update Dr. Keller the next day on the news of your pack’s imminent return. You elect to spend the afternoon in the barracks instead of her office, the building suddenly not seeming quite so empty now that you know they’re coming home soon. You clean up John’s room, making his bed again after you’d made a mess of it trying to sleep. They’re all going to be tired when they return, and you want to help them in any way that you can. You pick up your room as well, even though you know you likely won’t be spending much time in it for a while. You’re going to latch yourself onto them and not let go until the ache in your chest has disappeared. 

You bristle when the knock sounds at your door. You glance up from where you had been sorting the clothes you’d stolen from the guys from your own so you can get them to scent them again. You’re not expecting a knock yet. It’s too early to be Dr. Keller coming to get you for dinner, and she would have announced herself like she has been, if it was her. 

That means someone else is in the barracks. Someone you don’t know. 

Your mind races as you try to think of who it could be. You don’t know many others on base, and certainly no one that would enter the barracks just like that, unless it’s an emergency. Is there an emergency? You’re almost certain if there was an emergency on base, then there would be alarms going off or something. There’d be some sign that something was happening, but it’s quiet outside, or at least, there’s no noises you’re not expecting. 

The knock comes again, louder and sharper. Whoever is on the other side is obviously not going to just go away. You debate calling Dr. Keller, telling her someone is outside your door, getting her to help you on this, but instead you grab your phone, holding it in your hand as you move towards the door. 

You unlock it, holding your hand on the handle in case the person on the other side tries to force their way in. They don’t, so you open it slowly, just enough that you can see out. There’s a soldier outside your door. A woman. You don’t recognize her, but then again you don’t see many women on the base, and you don’t pay much attention to the other soldiers. 

Maybe you need to start paying more attention. 

She’s a beta, you can tell just by looking at her. She’s wearing scent blockers, keeping her scent from projecting into the barracks to erase the fact she was here. 

She says your name, staring at you with hard set eyes. “General Shepherd is waiting for you.” 

It takes you a moment to process what it is she’s saying. You’ve never met any of the higher ups on base. The person with the most authority you’ve met is John, but you know he’s only a Captain. There’s others above him, but you weren’t any concern of theirs, so you have never bothered to meet them. Even in your time with the CIA, the person with the most authority that you met seemed to be Kate. You hadn’t even been given names of anyone higher up than her. 

Apparently something’s changed. 

Something in the back of your mind begins to tingle. Something isn’t right about this. You should have called Dr. Keller, or even Kate. You shouldn’t have opened the door so recklessly. 

“But, I’m not supposed to-” You begin, unsure of what to do now. 

“It’s a direct order from your superior.” The woman cuts you off, her tone sharp and impatient.

You’re not a soldier. The only superior you have is John and he’s certainly not behind this. 

You wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Not right now. 

“Okay, okay.” You say, stepping back slightly from the door. “Let me just get some shoes on.” 

You close the door, staring down at your phone. You debate calling Dr. Keller or even just sending a text, but you don’t put it past the woman outside to barge in if you don’t hurry. You can feel the panic rising, the thought of someone invading your space so carelessly making the back of your neck tingle. So instead you slip on a pair of shoes, shoes you know you can run in, before you open the door again. 

She’s still standing in the hallway, stiffly at attention. Her gaze pierces into you, making your skin crawl. You close your door behind you, slipping your phone into your pocket. She doesn't say anything as she turns on her heel, walking down the hallway towards the door. You follow behind her, having to walk quickly to keep up with her. You’re reminded of your early days on the base when you would be escorted around by Ghost. 

You’d take those times back over this right now. 

Your palms start to sweat as you leave the barracks, dread starting to fill your stomach as you realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, leaving with this stranger. She could be taking you anywhere to see anyone. You’re not even sure General Shepherd is a real person. 

The thought of being led blindly into a room of alphas like a lamb being led into a den of hungry wolves nearly makes you panic, your steps faltering just slightly as you debate running. You could make it to the medical center quickly from here if you sprint the entire way. Would she chase you if you took off running? Would you get in trouble? Would the guys get in trouble if you did? 

You don’t want anyone to get in trouble. 

Especially not with this being the first time you’ve been on your own. They’ve put a lot of trust in both you and Dr. Keller in their absence. If you get into trouble while they’re gone, that might change things. You could ruin everything you’ve built by misbehaving. 

The woman leads you to a building you haven’t been in before, leading you down a clinical-looking hallway to a door. She pauses in front of it, turning to face you. You stare at her, still on edge. What if this is a test? What if they’re testing you to see if you’d just blindly leave with a stranger while they’re not there to protect you. 

You’ve made a big mistake. 

The woman holds out her hand, and you stare down at it dumbly. “Your phone.” 

You continue to stare at her hand for a moment, trying to swallow the nervous panic rising within you. You don’t have much of a choice now but to obey. Your hands are shaking as you pass your phone over, the woman pocketing it before she opens the door. 

It’s bright inside, the LED bulbs burning your eyes. You’re uncomfortable and uneasy, a dangerous mix for an omega, but the person inside doesn’t seem to care. He stands from his seat, towering over you. He screams alpha before his scent even hits you. You’re thrown back into the memories of your father, the way he carried himself, the way he stood. Back straight like a rod, hands clasped behind his back, face pressed into a stern line. 

He’s in uniform, decorated with more patches and pins than you could put a name to. Army, you think, judging by the color of his jacket. It looks like General Shepherd is a real person after all. 

You try not to flinch as the door clicks closed behind you, sealing you in this room with an unknown alpha. Though it’s only one, you still feel like the helpless lamb standing before a hungry wolf. 

No one will hear you scream. No one will care. 

“My name is General Shepherd.” He says, his voice gruff and laced with authority. “I am the acting commander of Task Force 141.” 

You’re not sure if you should say anything, or even bother introducing yourself. He probably already knows you well, even though you’ve never met him before in your life. 

“I was one of the driving forces behind the omega initiative, and I decided the 141 should be one of the first to participate. I also signed the approval for you to be assigned as their omega, did you know that?” 

You shake your head. “N-No sir, the CIA didn’t give me any names.” 

“Good.” His lips twitch in what you assume was supposed to be a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves any. “They weren’t supposed to. I’m sure you’ve learned that confidentiality is everything in this line of work.” 

“Yes, sir.” You try not to flinch under his gaze, piercing and probing. The back of your neck is tingling, every single instinct in your body screaming at you to run, to escape, to get somewhere safe. 

“I came here today to ensure your pack was doing as they were instructed. I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. You’re getting along well with them?” 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. There were some...bumps along the way, but we all get along fine now.” 

“Good.” He closes the file on the table, taking a step closer to you. You fight the urge to take a step back, not wanting him to invade your space while you’re so vulnerable. “The success of this program is imperative to the future of the military and its functionality. You’re doing important work here with the Task Force.” His hand lifts, slowly pulling the collar of your shirt to the side so he can see your mating mark. 

You fight the urge to lift your hands and wrap them around the back of your neck, the instinctual urge to protect yourself nearly winning out as he stares at your mark. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the fear-driven adrenaline making your fingers tremble. Half a second and he could scruff you, half a second and he could overpower you. 

No one would know. No one would care.  

“I’m satisfied with what I’m seeing so far. Of course, the true measure of success will be their efficiency in their current task.” He steps back away from you, moving back to the table. “How have you been adjusting to them being gone?” 

“It’s been difficult,” You say, breathing for a second to collect yourself. “But I know separation can be a rough adjustment at first.” 

His lips twitch again in a twisted smile. “You’re a smart girl. That’s why I chose you for this position. You’re doing good work. Your efforts will change the course of military history, hopefully for the better.” 

Something about his words don’t sit right with you. 

You’re trembling as you exit the room, led out by the woman that had brought you to the building. Your breaths are heavy as you try to keep a grip on the anxiety threatening to overtake you. Your hand is trembling uncontrollably as she give you your phone back, your knuckles going white as you clutch it to your chest. You’re sweating, the cool air chilling your skin as you step outside. 

You barely remember the walk back to the barracks, numbly following the woman as she leads you back to your safe space. It doesn't feel so safe anymore, now that she’s breached it. She entered without permission, breaking that trust that’s so sacred to packs. 

She doesn't even seem bothered by it. 

She pauses outside the door to the barracks, staring down at you. You fight the urge to race inside and lock yourself in the safety of your room before she can change her mind and enter again, or take you somewhere worse. You stand your ground, meeting her gaze. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She says, as monotone as she had been the first time she spoke to you. 

You finally realize what it was that made her seem so off to you as you think over her words. 

She’s American. 

“Thank you for escorting me.” You say politely, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Have a safe trip home.” 

You quickly enter the barracks, speed walking down the hall towards your room. You want to burrow under your covers and hide until the guys return and you can feel safe again. You pause in front of your door, staring down at the handle. The back of your neck is prickling again, anxiety burning hot in your veins. Your hands have begun shaking again, clinging to the phone still pressed against your chest. You fight the urge to hyperventilate as you stare at your door, half of your brain telling you to run and the other half stuck, staring in shock and disbelief. 

Your door is ajar. Open just a crack, just enough to be noticeable by looking at it. 

You always close your door. You always ensure it’s shut every time you leave the barracks, even when the guys are home. You remember shutting it before you followed the woman out of the barracks. You remember distinctly listening to the click of the handle as you pulled it shut behind you in the quiet of the barracks. 

You stare at the gap, the line of the frame visible. It’s open. Your door is open. 

Someone was inside your room. 

NEXT ->

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[hcneymooners]

⋆ arcane but it's a private university au ( for the girls: pt. ii )

ice princess!f!reader x multi. f!characters. men & minors dni.

synopsis: private university!arcane headcanons but it’s really specific bc it’s based on my time at catholic private school except this au is just a private hold the catholic.

cw: this part contains scenarios for jinx, sevika, & ambessa. writing for jinx was actually my favorite portion (ambessa, please forgive me.) suggestive content. notes: i love them so bad. you can find part one here. i didn't include the intro since i did it in the first one! i love you.

jinx : the "bad influence." 

୨୧ the two of you met mid-sprint, fleeing a party broken up by the police. it was one of those raw, electric moments where adrenaline surges and strangers become allies in chaos.

୨୧ in the frenzied escape, she tripped, her knees hitting the pavement hard. without hesitation, you yanked her up, kicking away an overzealous officer with surprising precision.

୨୧ all you caught were glimpses: two impossibly long blue braids swinging like a pendulum and wide, heavily-lashed pink eyes that lingered on yours, a strange curiosity etched into their neon stare.

୨୧ your fingers found hers without thinking, and together you ran—your heeled feet stumbling across glitter-streaked concrete littered with shattered glass and discarded red cups.

୨୧ the chase ended in a hole-in-the-wall thai spot, rain pouring in sheets outside. bundled in your oversized vintage fur coat, dark brown and impossibly warm, you glanced at her—soaked, shivering, and unapologetically smug.

୨୧ against every instinct, you shifted, lifting the bulk of your coat to drape over her smaller frame. pressed close, you felt the cold bite of her skin and the cherry tang of her perfume, thick and sharp. her stomach—toned, pale, and adorned with vibrant tattoos—drew your attention as it flexed when she flagged down the waitress.

୨୧ she was so deeply beautiful and so fucking close to you and you’re shivering and wet together.

୨୧ silence settled between you as she grew overly familiar, stealing bites from your plate and feeding you egg rolls with a crooked grin. her nails scraped against your bottom lip, and she laughed when you blinked, stunned, swallowing more than just food.

୨୧ at some point, she leaned in, stealing a sip from your drink, her lips lingering on the rim.

୨୧ you paid.

୨୧ "thanks, ice princess," she murmured as you left. only then did it hit you—she knew you. you must’ve crossed paths on campus, and yet, she felt like a stranger from a different world.

୨୧ she pressed a glossy pink kiss to your cheek, saluted with mock reverence, and vanished into the seedy underbelly of the city.

୨୧ you thought about her for weeks.

୨୧ you didn’t expect to see her again. but days later, there she was on campus, leaning against the vending machine in your dorm building like she belonged there.

୨୧ “ice princess,” she greeted, that crooked grin pulling at her lips. “guess we’re neighbors.”

୨୧ you didn’t know what to say. it was one thing to pull a stranger out of trouble and share a meal in some forgotten corner of the city. it was another to see her here, part of your world, like she’d been there all along.

୨୧ she started showing up more often after that—slipping into your study sessions at the library, tagging along when you grabbed coffee. she was loud and reckless, her laughter echoing off the quiet walls, drawing stares that you pretended not to notice.

୨୧ it wasn’t long before she started pushing you out of your comfort zone. sneaking you into underground parties, dragging you to rooftop hangouts where the city stretched out beneath you, glittering and endless.

୨୧ she made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t realized you were missing.

୨୧ you couldn’t stop staring at her tattoos, the colorful, intricate designs that covered her stomach and arms. one night, without thinking, you reached out to trace a line along her skin.

୨୧ she caught your hand before you could pull back, her fingers curling around yours. “you like ‘em, huh, mama?” she said, her voice low and teasing. your cheeks burned, and you stammered something incoherent, but she only laughed, pressing your palm flat against her stomach. “gonna get one just for you. we can match.”

୨୧ she had a habit of being overly familiar—feeding you bites of her food, letting her fingers linger against your lips as you swallowed. one time, her thumb brushed your bottom lip, and you caught her smirk as she let her teeth graze her fork, slow and deliberate.

୨୧ you knew you were falling for her. it was impossible not to. the way she leaned in close when she talked, her perfume sweet and enticing, her lips always just a little too close. the way she made you feel like the only person in the room, even in a crowd.

୨୧ not everyone saw her the way you did. when someone from your social circle made a snide comment about her, you didn’t hesitate to defend her. “she’s smarter than all of you combined,” you snapped, your voice colder than ice. “and she’s got more heart than you’ll ever understand.”

୨୧ it was after that that she started pulling away. her laughter came less easily, her touch less frequent.

୨୧ “you don’t get it,” she told you one night, her voice brittle. “i’m… broken. you shouldn’t—”

୨୧ “jinx,” you interrupted, your tone firm but gentle. “i’m from a legacy family. and, according to my family, i "choose" to like girls. i’m definitely fucked up. so how could i judge you?”

୨୧ she stared at you for a long moment, her eyes softening, and for the first time, she was at a loss for words.

୨୧ your first kiss wasn’t rushed or reckless. it was quiet, heavy with the weight of everything building between you. 

୨୧ you were sitting together on the roof of her sister’s apartment, the city lights stretching out below, and she was looking at you like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

୨୧ “you’re staring,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

୨୧ “yeah,” she said, her grin softer than you’d ever seen it. “so what?”

୨୧ before you could answer, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours like a question. when you didn’t pull away, she kissed you deeper, her hand cupping your jaw, her thumb tracing your cheekbone.

୨୧ she tasted like strawberry chapstick and danger, and you never wanted to let her go. when she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, she smiled.

୨୧ “told you,” she murmured, her voice soft and warm. “you’re stuck with me now.”

୨୧ you smiled back, cheeks aching. "i'm not stuck. i'm right where i want to be." ୨୧ she leaned back, dragging you into her lap. a slender finger dipped into your skirt's waistband and fingered the lace dip of your panties. your breath hitched, and she kissed your throat. "c'mon. lemme hear you, mama."

୨୧ from that moment on, you were hers—completely, irrevocably hers.

p.s you say fuck it, choose her over your fuck ass homophobic family, get disowned, get married, start a million dollar engineering empire, & have isha. 

sevika: the older student.

୨୧ you first noticed her in your advanced biochem lab—all sharp angles and calculated movements, her mechanical arm gleaming under fluorescent lights as she measured solutions with military precision. 

୨୧ sevika was notorious among grad students: brilliant, ruthless, and absolutely not interested in working with undergrads. which made it particularly unfortunate when professor silco paired you together for the semester's research project.

୨୧ she was older than most students—whispers said she dropped out years ago and came back after “handling some things.” no one was brave enough to ask what that meant, but her reputation kept most people at arm’s length.

୨୧ her expression when your name was called could have curdled milk. you lifted your chin, met her gaze steadily, and pretended your heart wasn't racing. 

୨୧ sevika didn’t bother to introduce herself. she just crossed her arms over her broad chest and grumbled, “you’re doing the talking.” her voice was low, almost lazy.

୨୧ "i'm not carrying dead weight," she said at your first session. you noticed a scar bisecting her left eye, the way her jaw clenched when she spoke. "if we're doing this, we do it my way." “thought you said i’d be talking,” you snapped back.

୨୧ 'her way' meant late nights in the lab, your designer clothes traded for practical cotton, hair pulled back from your face. she worked you relentlessly, expecting perfection in every measurement, every calculation. but beneath her harsh exterior, you caught glimpses of something else—the way she'd correct your form without mockery, how she'd appear with coffee when your hands started shaking from exhaustion.

୨୧ it was after one of these late sessions that it happened. you were walking back to your dorm, mind fuzzy with fatigue and feet stumbling, when rough hands grabbed you from behind. before you could scream, a low voice cut through the darkness: "let her go, or i remove your hands permanently."

୨୧ sevika stood there, golden eyes burning in the streetlight, her mechanical arm whirring softly. the would-be mugger took one look at her and ran. you stayed frozen, heart thundering in your chest, until she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “get it together, princess. come on."

୨୧ she led you to an alcove and watched you flutter with delayed panic like a bird, mouth twisted with an unreadable expression. "you need to learn to defend yourself," she said finally. it wasn't a suggestion. you opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off. “gym. tomorrow. six am. wear something you can actually move in."

୨୧ that's how you found yourself spending your mornings with sevika, learning to throw punches and break holds. she was a harsh teacher, but her hands were surprisingly gentle when correcting your stance. "again," she'd say, and you'd try to ignore how your skin tingled where she touched.

୨୧ soon enough, she started showing up wherever you were—whether it was a coffee shop, the library, or your favorite bench on campus. “just passing through,” she claimed. still, the way she always ended up sitting beside you said otherwise. she knew you were anxious, your body tensing whenever someone passed by. your airpods haven’t been in noise cancellation mode for three weeks.

୨୧ her mechanical arm fascinated you. one day, you asked about it, your curiosity outweighing your hesitation. she shrugged, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile when you told her you thought it was beautiful.

୨୧ the project evolved, and so did whatever was growing between you. she started letting you help maintain her arm, teaching you the intricate mechanisms. your fingers would brush as you worked, and sometimes she'd let them linger. "careful," she'd murmur, but you were never sure if she meant with the machinery or with her.

୨୧ in these moments, she had a way of looking at you that made your stomach flip—like she was sizing you up, deciding if you’re worth her time. 

୨୧ you began to seek her out. the first time you loitered in the parking lot of her condo, fingers twitching nervously as you texted that you stopped by. she opened the door and lounged against the doorway, thick thighs bared by her boxers and skin gleaming from a recent workout. she laughed as you gasped and turned away.

୨୧ “what the fuck, sevika!” “princess, we have the same parts. they probably would feel real nice pushed togeth—�� “SEVIKA.”

୨୧ she pushed you out of your comfort zone in quiet, deliberate ways. you’re dragged to the campus bar, taught how to play pool (and lose), and laughing when you scratch on the break. “you’re hopeless, princess,” she teased, her smirk revealing her perfect gap teeth.

୨୧ her teasing was relentless, and she always called you “princess” and sometimes “baby girl” like it was on your birth certificate. you flushed every time, which only encouraged her.

୨୧ the first time you successfully pinned her during a self-defense session, she actually laughed—a rich, surprised sound that made your heart stutter. "not bad, baby girl,” she said, still beneath you, her organic hand warm on your hip. you became acutely aware of your position, of how close her face was to yours. neither of you moved for a long moment.

୨୧ if you’re becoming way too possessive of her, sue you. you’re the only undergrad who’s smuggled yourself under her wing and you’d like to keep it that way, goddamnit. you were never good at sharing anyway.

୨୧ it came to a head at an afterparty, your eye twitching as you watched some bitch (sorry!) trace her talons across sevika’s waist, which was framed admirably by a dark pair of jeans that were practically painted on.

୨୧ it only took a few seconds for you to stomp across the room and root a hand around her neck, drawing her into a searing kiss. you kissed her like you were trying to draw juice from her lips, moaning as she tugged you in closer.

୨୧ she kissed like she fought—precise, demanding, taking no prisoners. she backed you against the counter, knocking over a bottle of malibu, mechanical hand cool against your hips. “didn’t know you had it in you,” she laughed. “shut up, sevika. my god.” you grabbed her collar, reeled her back in.

୨୧ "you're my special girl,” she'd tell you later, tracing patterns on your skin with metal fingers. “the only one i give a fuck about. no competition.” her voice was bleeding with affection, and you curled into her side. she pressed kisses to your hair and leaned over to set an alarm for the both you—one for her, four for you.

୨୧ it worked, somehow—your refined, gilded edges against her sharp ones. you learned to throw a punch; she learned that you would lock her out if she didn’t allow you to spoil her relentlessly. “princess, i already have a bike.” “keep talking, honey, and i’ll purchase the whole dealership.” “now—“

୨୧ "you're trying to kill me slowly,” she grumbled, watching you charm your way through department gatherings. but she'd be there anyway, a solid presence at your back, her mechanical hand resting possessively at your waist. and when you'd lean into her touch, she'd hide her smile in your hair.

୨୧ if anyone found it strange to see the ice princess curled up in the lap of the most feared grad student on campus, well, one look from sevika's narrowed eyes was enough to silence any commentary.

୨୧ you were a fucking princess, both in real life and in her bed, but fuck you were hers. and sevika protected what was hers.

ambessa medarda : the professor. 

୨୧ you first saw her across a dimly lit hotel bar. you were three drinks in, mascara smeared from crying after the worst fight yet with your mother. "disappointing," she'd called you. "ungrateful." all because you refused to date the son of her country club friends.

୨୧ “mommy, please,” you’d sobbed. “i’m not ungrateful. i just don’t love him.” she’d left you with the dial tone.

୨୧ you rubbed a fist across your face like a child, attempting to gather yourself. your phonecall was denied again, and you winced at the tinny voice of your mother’s voicemail, setting it down and turning it off. god, this was the worst thing to happen to you in a long time. 

୨୧ with a sigh, you glanced up at the mirror behind the bar. she was looking right back. 

୨୧ the woman was striking—white locs swept into an elegant updo, wearing a low-cut red dress that hugged her body tightly. she moved like a lioness, back flexing as she hunkered down over the glossy wood. her golden eyes met yours, and your stomach began to spin. you knew this was the beginning of a dangerous game.

୨୧ after a minute she walked over, hands bearing water instead of another drink. "crying in bars rarely solves anything, little one," she said, her accent rich and heady. when you tried to argue, she simply raised an eyebrow, and you found yourself downing the glass in its entirety. 

୨୧ you kept eye contact as you swallowed, tongue peeking out to lap at the remnants along your lips.

୨୧ you don't remember who moved first. but you remember her hands—strong, calloused—gripping your thighs. remember her voice, rough with want, whispering against your neck. remember the way she claimed you, leaving mottled marks you'd find days later.

୨୧ you remember waking up alone in her hotel room, a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand. no note. just the lingering scent of her perfume—spiced and earthy—on the sheets.

୨୧ you tried to forget her. tried to forget how she'd called you “sweet girl” when you'd bitten her shoulder, how she'd laughed darkly and pinned your hands above your head, called you “easy” when you sobbed out pitiful demands for her to go harder and faster, do destroy you from the inside out.

୨୧ then came the first day of advanced military history.

୨୧ "good morning, class. i'm professor medarda."

୨୧ your blood ran cold. there she stood—your favorite fantasy, your most well-spent drunken night—looking devastatingly beautiful in a tailored suit. her eyes found yours immediately, and you saw the recognition flash in them, followed by something darker, more primal.

୨୧ you tried to drop the class. she denied your request personally.

୨୧ "running away?" she asked during mandatory office hours, pouring tea from an ornate set. "that's not the fierce girl i remember. you scratched me all up.”

୨୧ your cheeks burned. "professor—"

୨୧ "ambessa," she corrected, sliding the tea across her desk. “i think we’re past the formalities.”

୨୧ you couldn't avoid her. she called on you in class, her voice caressing your name. kept you after lectures to "discuss your work." you told yourself the tension would fade.

୨୧ it didn't.

୨୧ "i need a teaching assistant," she announced one evening, when you'd stayed too late reviewing your paper. "someone sharp. strategic. devoted.” her fingers brushed yours as she took your empty teacup. "interested?"

୨୧ you should have said no. you should have viewed her wolfish grin as a red flag, grabbed your shit, and hauled ass. instead, you heard yourself say, “of course.”

୨୧ being her TA meant late nights in her office, her perfume making you dizzy with memories. meant watching her command rooms full of students while remembering how she'd commanded your body. it meant pretending you couldn't feel her eyes on you, hungry and possessive.

୨୧ "we should establish some boundaries,” you said finally, after weeks of delicious torture.

୨୧ "should we?" she moved like a predator, backing you against her desk. "or should we discuss how you keep shivering when i get too close?"

୨୧ your breath caught. "this is inappropriate."

୨୧ “mmm, entirely," she agreed, one hand sliding into your hair, the other around your neck. “now, tell me to stop."

୨୧ you didn’t. 

୨୧ “little minx,” she murmured and you kissed her, surging forward and into her lap.

୨୧ it became your secret—stolen moments in her office after hours, weekends at her apartment where she'd cook elaborate dishes and tear your papers to shreds, nights where she'd make you forget your own name and squeal hers.

୨୧ “good girl” she'd murmur against your skin, switching to noxian when you drove her too far. she ordained you with names that meant something far more possessive and crude in her native tongue.

୨୧ the whole thing made you feel deliciously stained and you sought her out to purify you time and time again. you kept it hidden until graduation. until you had your degree in hand and nothing left to lose.

୨୧ the scandal was delicious—respected professor medarda and her former student, now openly living together. your mother was horrified. society whispered.

୨୧ "regrets?" ambessa asked one morning, watching you sip the spiced coffee you'd grown to love.

୨୧ you thought of that night at the bar, of all the paths that led you here. "never."  it turned out some mistakes are worth making twice.

© hcneymooners.

[fifty555]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ poetry? no, pottery!

a lil’ love between you and little lando norris 💞 with a twist as you’re a ceramist/potterer!

content warning; none! just enjoy the fluffs! ah, there’s a bit of explicit language (i think?), but nothing drastic! enjoy 😽!

summary; childhood friends reconnect after years apart—he’s a formula 1 driver, and you’re a ceramist.

hey, lover! part two here!

Lando Norris was used to his friends teasing him. Whether it was his golfing misadventures, his love for Twitch streams, or his occasional emotional outbursts on team radio, there was always something to make him the subject of banter on and off the grid. But the one thing they had yet to figure out—something that he was genuinely proud of—was the pottery.

It started innocuously enough. A vase here, a decorative bowl there. The other drivers had assumed Lando had simply developed a newfound taste for ceramic art after moving to Monaco. Carlos had even joked once, “You’re just trying to look posh, mate.”

But no one had noticed the small etchings at the back of each piece: a simple ‘Lan’ with a heart. Subtle, personal, and not exactly the kind of thing you’d put on items for sale. That mystery had lingered until one fateful evening when everything unravelled in the most chaotic way imaginable.

It was post-race at Silverstone, and the whole grid had gathered for dinner at a private venue. Spirits were high after a spectacular British Grand Prix, with plenty of laughs and, naturally, plenty of friendly ribbing.

Lando sat beside Oscar, carefully monitoring his phone, knowing full well that at any moment you might call. You were in your apartment in Mexico, finalising details for an art exhibit while simultaneously working on personal pottery commissions. Lando adored how dedicated you were to your craft, even if it often left you so absorbed that you forgot things—like where you’d placed your keys, or, as he was about to find out, something a little more important.

Amid the loud chatter, Lando’s phone buzzed, and your name flashed on the screen. Without thinking, he swiped to answer. “Hey, love,” he greeted, but before he could say anything else, your panicked voice filled the room.

“Lan, I lost my ring! I don’t know where it is!”

Shoot, he forgot about the speaker.

The room fell eerily silent as the unmistakable sound of your frantic cries echoed from the speaker.

Lando froze. His brain short-circuited as he realised his phone was still on speaker. Every single driver at the table—except for Oscar, Alex, and George—was staring at him like he’d just confessed to murder.

“Oh, for fu—” Lando scrambled to turn off the speaker, but not before you continued, “Baby, I don’t know where it is! I can’t even—”

He interrupted, voice strained with embarrassment. “Have you checked the wet clays? That’s usually where you’d lose it.”

The line went quiet for a second as the realisation hit you. “Shit. I’ll go check. Thanks, love. Enjoy your dinner with the boys, bye!” You ended the call abruptly, leaving Lando to deal with the aftermath.

“What the hell was that?” Daniel was the first to break the silence, leaning forward with a grin that practically screamed mischief.

“No, who the fuck was that?” Max followed, his bluntness cutting through the rising chaos like a hot knife through butter.

The room erupted in questions. Pierre was halfway across the table, trying to pry answers from Lando, while Charles was practically yelling over everyone else. Meanwhile, Carlos gave Lando a pointed look. “Mate, don’t tell me you’ve got a secret girlfriend and you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Lando’s cheeks burned as he fumbled to explain. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?!” Charles’ voice reached a pitch that only dogs could hear. “You’ve been holding out on us! Who is she?”

Amidst the chaos, Alex calmly took a sip of his drink and glanced at Charles. “You’ve met her before.”

“I have?” Charles frowned, genuinely confused.

George pulled out his phone, scrolled through his photos, and handed it over. “Here, this’ll jog your memory.”

The photo showed George, Alex, and you at a karting event years ago, laughing over slices of pizza. You were unmistakable, even with the short haircut and boyish charm you used to sport.

And the fact that you used to terrorise Charles on the grid.

Charles’ eyes widened. “You’re telling me that demon is Lando’s—”

“Fiancée,” Lando corrected with a smug grin, cutting him off. “She’s my fiancée.”

If the table had been chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the uproar that followed.

“Fiancée?!” Charles looked moments away from fainting. Pierre had to physically restrain him from climbing over the table.

Max, ever the straight shooter, raised a brow. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since October 2020,” Lando admitted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defensively.

“You kept this a secret for three years?” Daniel looked simultaneously impressed and horrified. “And all we got were vases?”

“Wait,” Carlos interjected, pointing a finger at Lando. “The pottery—don’t tell me that’s her doing?”

Lando smirked, finally finding his footing in the conversation. “Actually, most of it’s hers. But I helped with a few pieces.”

“Explains the hearts,” Pierre muttered, earning a round of laughter.

Meanwhile, back in your studio, you’d found the missing engagement ring embedded in a chunk of wet clay. You snapped a quick photo of your clay-covered hands, the ring perched delicately on your finger, and sent it to Lando with the message: Found it. Your forgetfulness is rubbing off on me.

Lando responded with a selfie of his own, a defeated look on his face, and the message: The cat’s out of the bag.

You could only laugh, imagining the absolute carnage he was dealing with at dinner.

Now, the question is, how did you guys meet?

Well, let’s take a trip down memory lane, yes?

It started at a karting track in Guildford when they were both nine years old. Lando was already making waves on the circuit, a scrappy kid with untamed curls and an infectious grin. You, on the other hand, were a quiet but fiercely competitive racer, constantly being told you’d never make it because you were a girl.

That day, your paths crossed in the most cliché yet heartwarming way. You’d crashed during qualifying and sat on the sidelines, fuming as you inspected the damaged kart. Lando, fresh off his own session, wandered over with a bag of gummy bears and an awkward grin.

“Want one?” he asked, holding the bag out to you.

You glanced up, unimpressed. “Unless it fixes my kart, no thanks.”

“It doesn’t,” he admitted, plopping one into his mouth, “but they’re good for sulking.”

Reluctantly, you took one. That was all it took. From that day forward, you became friends—rivals on the track, co-conspirators off it. The karting world was small, and you often found yourselves travelling the same circuits, sharing snacks, and occasionally teaming up to prank the other kids.

But all good things come to an end, and for Lando, the end came when you abruptly quit karting at twelve. One day you were there, racing alongside him, and the next, you were gone. No explanations, no goodbyes—just a void where his fiercest rival and closest friend had been.

Years passed. Lando threw himself into racing, climbing the ranks to Formula 1, but he never stopped wondering what had happened to you. He’d hear whispers—something about pottery, about you exchanging one love for another—but nothing concrete.

Then, in 2020, he walked into a pop-up art gallery in London and froze. There, amidst a sea of ceramic sculptures, was a name he hadn’t seen in years: yours. And standing by a display of hand-thrown vases, chatting animatedly with a small group of people, was you.

Lando hesitated, heart pounding as he watched you laugh, looking so effortlessly radiant it hurt. He was a world-famous F1 driver now, but at that moment, he felt like the same awkward boy offering gummy bears to his angry rival.

Finally, he worked up the courage to approach you. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Nice vases.”

You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, as if no time had passed at all, you grinned. “Nice curls.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always had. Over coffee the next day, you explained why you’d quit karting. Your parents had pulled you out, worried about the pressure and the toxic environment you were facing as a girl in a male-dominated sport. You’d turned to pottery as an outlet and never looked back.

“I missed it, though,” you admitted, stirring your latte. “I missed racing. I missed… you.”

Lando’s heart clenched. “I missed you too.”

The transition from friendship to romance was seamless, almost inevitable. But given Lando’s high-profile career, you both agreed to keep the relationship private. It wasn’t easy. There were stolen weekends in Monaco, secret visits to your studio in between London and Mexico, and countless moments when you had to play it cool in public, even as your heart raced every time you saw him.

The secrecy was worth it, though. For three years, you built a world of your own, filled with laughter, late-night phone calls, and the kind of love that felt steady and enduring.

The proposal came during a quiet evening at your studio. You’d been working on a commission, hands covered in clay, when Lando appeared in the doorway, looking unusually nervous.

“What’s up?” you asked, wiping your hands on a rag.

He hesitated, then held out a small, unassuming box. “I, uh, thought we could make this official.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Lando Norris, are you asking me to marry you in the middle of my studio while I’m covered in clay?”

He grinned, the familiar boyish charm shining through. “Well, I figured it’s where you’re happiest.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Laughing, you took the box, opened it, and saw the ring—simple, elegant, and unmistakably you. Tears filled your eyes as you nodded. “Yes.”

For a while, life went on as usual. You returned to your pottery, Lando to his racing, and your engagement remained a secret known only to close family and a few trusted friends. But secrets have a way of slipping out, and yours did during that fateful post-Silverstone dinner.

By the time Lando returned home to Monaco, the internet was ablaze. He’d soft-launched your engagement on Instagram with a series of photos: your clay-covered hands holding the ring, more of you holding your ring in defeat after possibly losing it, and a final shot of the infamous ‘Lan ♥’ signature on one of your vases.

The caption read: ladies and gents, the chronicles of my fiancée losing her ring. she says that my forgetfulness is rubbing off on her apparently but she sadly chose to say yes to me 😌.

The response was overwhelming. Fans went wild over the reveal, speculating about your relationship timeline and falling in love with the wholesome chaos of it all.

Despite the initial embarrassment, Lando wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, Charles might never let him live it down, and Daniel would probably bring up the ‘wet clay incident’ at every opportunity, but none of it mattered.

As he watched you work on your latest piece, the soft hum of music filling the studio, he felt a sense of peace he rarely found anywhere else. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him staring, and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Back to work, Mr. Norris,” you teased, pointing at the pottery wheel.

He grinned, sliding into the seat beside you. “Yes, ma’am.”

If this was what forever looked like, Lando was more than ready for it.

Because in the end, every gummy bear, every secret, and every chaotic dinner had been worth it.

i hope you guys liked it 🥹 tbh, this was originally a gift for my friend to motivate her but now she wants to actually marry him… i take no part in that declaration.

also, this y’all man 🤨☝🏻 damn, he’s okay, i guess.

i’m still very new here, so, there’s some things i absolutely know nothing about… BUT, i’ll get through it ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-!! i love y’all, strangers ‘round the internet 💌 MWAH!

[writerpeach]

Anytime, Anywhere

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x m!reader

19k words

Happy Minju Day!

---

Read on AO3

“I’m not looking for a roommate, Minju.”

The conversation should have ended there. But it didn’t.

Your front door is wide open and you can’t seem to close it shut. Like there’s something in the way. This something is a girl standing by the open door, carrying a suitcase, looking as pathetic as could be. Her hair is a mess, and the way she's been crying makes her eyes all swollen, nose still red. The only way she could look any more pitiful would be standing in the rain without an umbrella, but here she is with this disappointment on her face because you’ve given her an answer she wasn’t expecting. 

You’ve known Kim Minju since your first year of college. The first person to talk to you during orientation when you were too nervous to even look at anyone. Now you’ve graduated with a stable job that pays well, and moved into your first apartment, a place you can finally call your own—you’re not about to ruin it all. 

Minju was the first person you shared a meal with at campus, the first person you walked to class with that was just as awkward as you were, and you’d practically do anything for her—except let her live with you. 

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!” 

Minju has a strange definition of fun. 

“Fun? One more mess to clean up? Having to buy more ice cream because you’ve eaten it all? Running out of hot water to take a shower with? No thanks. I'm not looking for a roommate.”

The girl doesn’t budge from the doorway, like giving up isn’t a part of her vocabulary. “Hey, I can clean up after myself. And I don’t even eat that much, so I won’t steal your ice cream. You won’t even know I’m here.” 

There’s some truth to that. All those years you’ve known Minju, she’s always been the quiet, demure girl who’s always cleaned up after herself and others without asking. You can’t exactly picture her the type to throw loud parties, and she’s probably the biggest homebody that you know. But still—that’s not enough a reason to let her live here on a whim. You enjoy your privacy, your quiet, your hot showers, and most importantly, your time alone.

“Minju, the answer is still no. The last thing I need right now is a roommate.” 

Your answer is firm and resounding, but Minju expects that to change. Like she’s got this laundry list of ideas that will convince you otherwise. 

“But don’t you get lonely? Look, I can clean. And I can cook. Kind of. And I can—“

“No, I enjoy not having anyone around. And I can cook just fine. I have a housekeeper that comes in twice a month. I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Every last word you’re saying puts a big frown on her face. Minju’s great, a terrific friend, but hearing the word no has never been one of her favorite things. 

“But I—“ she starts, and you can tell there’s about to be a double down you can’t prepare for. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

There it is. The pouty lips, the desperation, the puppy dog eyes. This triple combo intended to make you feel every pang of guilt, yet you’ve seen it so many times over the course of knowing her that you’ve grown immune to it. And you know it’s not exactly true. Kim Minju was always the popular one. Always the one with a plethora of friends. So it’s not exactly like she’s about to be homeless if you refuse her. 

“You had friends. So many friends, Minju. I never got to have lunch with you because you were always spending time with them. What happened? Surely you can live with one of them?” 

Minju looks away and down to her feet, like you’ve accidentally found some weakness of hers. Obviously, something has happened to have her standing in your doorway right now, looking so defeated, but when you’ve barely spoken the past couple of years outside of birthday messages, there's really no way for you to know.

“I’ve lost contact with most of them. The others, they’ve moved on. They’ve graduated, have lives, careers, families…” Minju says, as she stares off into space, like she’s seeing everything play out again right before her eyes. 

“And you think I don’t? What happened to you, Minju? You were top of the class. The most popular girl. And now you’re begging for a place to live?” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, there’s a long moment of hesitation before she speaks up again. “I made some mistakes."

Minju pauses again before delving into details. “I made so many mistakes. I moved in with my friend. Chaewon, do you remember her? Kim Chaewon? She was my best friend. We dated for six months and then moved in together. Then, my priorities got really screwed up, I guess. I focused more on going to parties with her instead of studying, and then that caught up with me when exams came around. Lost my scholarship, my interest in classes, and then eventually—lost Chaewon.”

It's a lot to take in all at once. 

Minju has never struck you as the type to be so reckless that she would let everything else spiral out of control. Not when she's the most hard-working and smartest person that you've ever met. Then again, you haven’t talked to her in years, and people change. But at the end of the day, that's still not enough reason for you to let her stay here. 

“I'm sorry to hear that, Minju." That's the only thing you can think to say, but even that seems to come across as a bit hollow. 

“The only person that offered to take me in was Sakura, said she could get me a job where she works. But… I can’t move to Japan. I don’t want to take my clothes off on camera for a living. You know she's an adult actress now? I can't do that."

“Minju, I understand, but I like living by myself, and I really don't want someone else. It’s nothing against you. Things here are nice and—“ 

“I’ll pay extra rent! I’ll pay more than my share. I’ll make sure the fridge is always full. I’ll…”

It doesn't seem to sink in that you're not interested, that you don’t want this at all, that you value your privacy above all else. “It’s not about money. I'm sorry, Minju, but no.” 

Minju isn’t listening. 

Or rather refuses to hear it, like she can't accept your rejection. So there's only one thing left for her to try as she falls to her knees—begging like her life depends on it. 

There's plenty of neighbors around, and having her on your doormat draws all this unwarranted attention that you don't need. But at this point, Minju still can't seem to fathom that your answer will never be the one that she wants to hear.

“Minju, stop.“

“Please, just for like a few weeks? So I can figure things out? I won’t be a bother, I promise.” Minju clutches onto your legs. It's embarrassing how desperate she looks right now, and the few people that walk by staring while this plays out aren't helping one bit. 

“Look, I’ll call around. I’m sure I have some friends with empty rooms that aren’t even getting used.” 

That sounds like a good offer, the best one you can give—but not to Kim Minju. She just clutches harder, so desperate that her nails are almost digging into your thighs through the thin layer of fabric of your pants. It's only been seconds since you've suggested the idea, but already, Minju is giving her rebuttal.

“But I don’t know your friends. So you want me to live with strangers? With people I’ve never even met? What if they try something weird?” Minju whines while finding a way to twist your words, and any last remnants of pity you have left vanishes. 

“Minju, I said stop,” you say with more authority, but it just makes her cling on even tighter. The iron grip she won’t relinquish almost causes you to lose your balance as you push away, trying to peel her off you to no avail. 

“Get up, Minju. This is beneath you.” 

She knows it is. Minju has always been so composed, and she knows that even if all other options are exhausted, there are less extreme measures to take. But there she is, clutching at your legs like there's no other alternative. Like this is her last resort.

"Minju, you need to leave." This isn’t your fault, and yet, somehow, it feels like it is.

"I can be a good roommate!"

Minju gives up on begging, finally rising to her feet with this adamant look on her face, like she’s going to give this one more dire attempt. “Please. I can give you something that's even better than rent."

It should end there. You should apologize that you can’t help, close the door on Minju, then grab a cold beer out of your fridge and forget this day happened. 

“Look, you still like women, right?”

What an odd question. You have no idea where this is going, and Minju has gone from begging to, well, whatever this is. Either way, you don’t answer.

“Come on, I’ve never known you to be shy. Surely you have needs, desires—and I can help with that. Just let me stay for a little bit while I get back on my feet. I can repay you in a way no one else can."

“Have you lost your mind, Minju?”

Clearly, the desperation has gotten to her head. Minju may sound as coherent as ever, yet you can’t comprehend these words. Maybe you need more sleep, maybe you’re a bit dehydrated—

“We’ve been friends for years… and you’ve never thought about me that way?“ she asks, sauntering closer towards you with this new sense of confidence in her step. Minju, she’s hot—very hot, this supermodel body with an angelic face you can stare at for hours. But that doesn’t mean you’ve entertained such thoughts. 

“Now, tell me. Wouldn’t it be nice if you had someone who gets you off as soon as you walk through that door? Someone who drops to their knees without any command. It must get pretty stressful, living on your own, without anyone to even talk to…” 

“It doesn’t, Minju. I’m fine. I really don’t need anything.“

“You keep repeating that, saying the same thing. You’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t enjoy getting between my legs right in the morning? Or having a way to destress after all those long hours at work? You would never want any of that?"

“Jesus, Minju, I’m not paying you for sex. This is ridic—” 

"That's not what I'm saying at all. All I need is a roof over my head, and in exchange—you can use my body as you wish. It can be as quick or long as you want. As many times as you desire. Anytime. Any day. Anywhere. No strings attached, that's my offer.” 

What an insane offer this is. 

“Get inside,” you beckon, because if the absurdity of this exchange won’t stop, at the very least you don’t want anyone else to overhear these suggestions. Minju follows inside, her suitcase still on wheels dragging along while she shuts the door behind. 

“Sit down, please.” 

Taking off her jacket, Minju takes a seat on the couch and crosses her legs, making herself comfortable. She sits right against the backrest, both arms sprawled wide across it while you wait for her to fully explain this ridiculous proposal. 

“Well?" Minju asks, a big cheeky grin, convinced she’s already won. “Sounds like you’re interested. If you weren’t, you would have kept insisting on me leaving, wouldn’t you?” 

Like you could ever get Minju to leave. 

Without much of a reaction, you sink into the armchair to her right. It's hard to find the words to say because she has a point. There were countless ways you could have asked her to leave, but you chose not to. Or maybe you’re just too exhausted by this whole thing.

“So—“ you pause, because you’re sure if you can call her bluff, this little game can end. “You’re serious?” 

Minju curls her lips. An eyebrow raises. She leans forward and folds her hands in her lap. This devilish little look in her eyes doesn’t have an ounce of doubt. “Absolutely. Just hear me out.”

You let out a sigh at the idea of ever entertaining this. “Explain it all. Don’t leave anything out.” 

Minju can’t help but laugh. “I’ve pretty much told you everything already. For as long as you let me stay here, I’ll be available at your disposal. As simple as that. Whenever you want to fuck me, you don’t even have to ask. I’ll drop everything.” 

“I don’t have to ask?” you repeat back, still in disbelief that Minju is capable of coming up with such an arrangement.

Minju nods. "If we come to an agreement today, then you won’t ever need to ask. You can have me in any and every way that you want. No restrictions."

“None?” 

“None whatsoever. You want a blowjob first thing in the morning? No problem. Need to fuck me at night before I sleep? You just say the word. Whenever you get horny, you can go right ahead and shove your cock in me. No need to hold back, ever."

"And you would be okay with that?”

“I’m the one who suggested it, didn’t I? I need a place to live, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some help getting off. So we help each other out.”

This doesn't feel real, to hear the girl sitting next to you is essentially suggesting her body to be a form of rent, and yet, this has been Minju's solution like it’s nothing. 

“And I meant anytime. If you’re hard at two in the morning and you wanna fuck a load into me, well, go right ahead.” 

“Jesus, Minju,” you say, and if you had a drink in your hands, you would absolutely be spitting it out right now. ”I’m not gonna wake you in the middle of the night to fuck you.” 

“Hey, I’m just saying. Totally okay if you wanted to. It’s all part of the rules.” 

“And are there any other rules?” Saying no to Minju is never simple, and this offer on the table seems almost impossible to resist. 

“Nothing too painful outside of spanking. Nothing too out of the ordinary or illegal. That should cover it. I’ll be looking for a job to help out as soon as I settle in, that is—assuming we’ve come to an agreement?” 

Maybe you should think this over, sleep on it even. But Minju, she looks like a goddess, with a banging body to go with it, and hey, she’s a friend, not a stranger, so there’s no way this could go wrong, right? 

“I promise you won’t regret this. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this place, and then whenever you need it—I’ll take care of you.” 

Minju really can’t help but be pleased at herself at that.

“Okay, sure. Fine.” 

“We have a deal?” 

“Yeah. Deal.” 

That's all it takes for it to happen.

“One more thing. We’re getting a contract made, to make sure this is all clear and consensual,” you say, and Minju has no complaints with that at all. It’s not that you don’t trust her, but putting it on paper seems only wise given the situation. 

“Understandable. Whatever you need.”

Pleased that this is all settled, Minju stands up from the couch with relief on her face. Then, with a radiating smile, she makes her way towards you, leaning down until she presses her lips against yours, sealing the deal with a kiss. 

“Thank you. You won’t really regret this at all.” 

✦ ✦

The rest of the night is relatively uneventful. 

It’ll take some time to adjust to having someone else in your place. At first, there’s not much conversation between you two other than an exchange of pleasantries while you help Minju get situated. She doesn’t have much in terms of belongings. A couple of boxes, an extra suitcase, a laptop bag and her purse—nothing that can fill a bedroom, which makes sense given the story she’s told you. 

You lend a hand in bringing it all in, and Minju gets her phone charger set up before running herself a long, hot shower that leaves plenty of time for you to think. This ridiculous arrangement starts to feel less surreal when you look around and find your apartment looking less empty. Yet, you’re not exactly sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

After giving Minju a quick tour of the place, she winds up sleeping on the couch, since your spare bedroom has served as storage for months. 

Aside from the agreement, nothing really changes overnight.

The next morning, there’s fresh coffee already made when you head into the kitchen. Minju has taken advantage of your breakfast offerings, pouring milk into a full cereal bowl when she notices your presence. Seated at the kitchen table, there’s this innocent expression on her face as she eats, wearing a white tank top and a tiny pair of black gym shorts that do little to cover those never-ending legs. 

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Minju asks as you sit down across from her, pouring yourself a cup of coffee before adding sugar and a splash of milk from the nearby carton.

“Well enough. Sorry about the couch. I’ll try to empty out the spare bedroom today.” 

Taking a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, Minju smiles and shakes her head, like your apology is unwarranted. “It's totally fine, don’t worry. I could have slept on the floor if I needed to. I’m just happy to be here at all.”

Minju’s gratitude is every bit genuine, and it looks like she got the best night of sleep that she's had in years. Which is hard to believe, given you’ve spent your share of nights sleeping on that same couch and it's nowhere near comfortable. Then again, you weren’t in the same position Minju was. 

“No breakfast?” 

“Not yet. I’ll cook something in a bit. Need to get some coffee in me first.” 

“Oh, I can do it. Anything I can make you? I don’t mind,” Minju suggests, starting to rise to her feet. 

“No, it’s fine, don’t get up. I like making breakfast.” You sip your coffee, and Minju settles back down to start eating again. Because even if you have someone else sitting across from you now, let alone Minju, you can’t break from routine. 

There’s a bit of awkward silence that happens while the two of you eat, as you’re unsure what to really say. But it’s day one of having a roommate, and you don’t regret it. Not yet. 

"So, are you off to work?" Minju asks, as she gets up from the chair and puts her empty bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

You nod in response as you tilt your head to finish off the last of your coffee. "Yeah. Well, I work uh, here, actually.” 

“Here? Oh, like from home? That must be nice," Minju replies as she sits back down, like she’s waiting for something else to keep herself busy with.

"It's not the most ideal setup, but it's better than having a commute."

"I can imagine. Well, don't let me keep you then. If you need—you know, anything, let me know.” 

That sentence lingers in your mind while you head to your home office. And the workday starts the same way as it always does: meetings, phone calls, answering emails, the same tedium over and over. The only difference is the addition of Minju when you get up to grab a snack, some water, or more coffee—she’s there to greet you with a smile every time. 

The morning drags on, and you end up working through lunch to get caught up, which ends up being a mistake for many reasons. Now you’re this bad combo of stress and hunger, a recipe for disaster, but one of those problems is easier to solve than the other. So you grab a granola bar out of your desk drawer to tide you over, and as the wrapper lands in the trash can, you realize you can fix the other problem rather quickly as well. 

With Minju. 

It’s the whole reason why you’ve agreed to let her be here in the first place. So might as well test it out, right? And yet, you’re not even sure how to go about it. Summon her and say what, you're stressed, start stripping, and get on your knees? That sounds ridiculous to do, to even think about, especially when Minju hasn't been here for more than 24 hours yet.

Maybe the hunger is getting to you, and you should make a quick sandwich before getting back to work. Or maybe—just maybe, you should ask Minju for what she's offered.

"Minju?" you call out as you lean back in your chair, trying not to sound nervous at all. Within moments, a pair of bare feet enter into the room, arriving like she’s been on standby the entire time. 

You survey Minju from head to toe, this gorgeous thing idly standing before you, as if she’s waiting for orders. It takes you a moment to realize you’re just shamelessly staring at her, but who could blame you? The girl is the epitome of perfection: pale skin, these wide, curvy hips that lead to ridiculously long legs down to her painted toes, and tantalizingly creamy thighs that leave you salivating. 

Her tank top hangs just above her belly button, with the outline of her modest tits completely exposed through the flimsy fabric, the barest hints of nipples brazenly displayed, and there isn’t a hint of anything beneath her shorts besides bare flesh. You’re not sure this isn’t entirely intentional, designed to either tease or lure you into testing the waters, but maybe this is just Minju getting comfortable. 

Regardless, it’s working like a charm to ignite a fire inside you. 

"What can I help with?" Minju asks as her hands meet behind her back, nipples poking through the fabric of her tank top even more visible the closer she gets. She looks completely ready for whatever you’re prepared to throw at her, but you’re not even sure where to begin. 

“Are you busy?” 

“Not at all, just unpacking some boxes. But that can always wait.” 

"Good,” you start out as your eyes drift down Minju’s immaculate body, and can’t help but wonder what she looks like underneath those clothes. “I need—“ 

You take in a sharp breath, not used to something like this—or the fact that Minju might be willing to go along with whatever you imagine. 

“Need what?” She smiles knowingly, understanding whatever it is you need, she’ll happily oblige. You pause for way too long, your mouth suddenly feeling dry at the thought of voicing the idea in your head. “Don’t be shy…” 

Easy for her to say. 

“You need me to get you off?” Minju asks in this sultry voice when you don’t say anything in response, and it sounds so natural when she does, like there’s no reservation of putting herself out there like this. Eventually, you let out this pathetic little nod that doesn’t quite pass as a response, but still gets Minju to slowly drop down to her knees. And the realization of what’s about to happen gets your heart racing. 

“So…” Minju murmurs, as she scoots her body in between your legs. Her palm flattens against your thigh in these slow caresses that send a wave of warmth as it slides to your crotch. “You want my mouth? I bet you taste really good.” 

It's far more direct and open than you were prepared for, and has you trying to find an ounce of confidence. “God, yes.” 

There’s way too much desperation in your voice already, but it’s all Minju needs to get to work. Unzipping your pants, she tugs them down as you lift your hips. Already, your cock aches, getting hard, having no chance of hiding under the thin fabric of your boxers. 

When Minju frees you from your boxers, her hot breath against your bare cock makes you twitch. Her delicate hand closes around your erection, and she pumps with these slow, languid strokes, a motion that gets you to full hardness. In a matter of seconds, your shaft pulsates in her hands, leaking a steady stream of precum to coat her fingers. 

“You’re so fucking hard. This beautiful cock is what I get to play with for the next few weeks?”

Leaning your head back, you groan in response. You stare up at the ceiling while Minju strokes your hard shaft, these painful throbs getting instant relief when she moves in short, but powerful motions that draw a few breaths of bliss. It’s unfathomable, how the smallest touch she offers feels so damn good, this firm grasp she keeps coiling up and down your length at a leisurely pace to make you leak more. 

This is certainly a much better use of your time than staring at screens for hours. 

“You must be so pent up. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Minju asks, dragging a lone finger down from the base of your cock upwards to the head, across your slit, teasing her tongue over to taste precum smearing around, offering the briefest sample of what’s coming. 

“But I know you need more…” As she inches even closer, Minju spits right on top and you gasp at the sensation of saliva on your overheated cock. With each stroke, she spreads the fluid along your pulsing shaft, allowing it to drip down and coat your entire length. Her other hand fondles your balls, tugging on them playfully and doesn’t ignore how heavy they feel, as if it’s her new obligation to do something about that. 

“You needed this, didn’t you?” 

Another weak nod in return, because at this point words fail you. You want nothing more than Minju to guide her hot mouth down, swallowing you all until there’s nothing left. And you won’t have to wait long for that. 

Because even without Minju getting her mouth on your sensitive cock, you’re overwhelmed already. It’s clear she’s no stranger to this, the way her fingers tease and squeeze tightly around your dick, working in tandem with that pretty wet mouth that slides across your balls. Sticky drool spills down her tongue as she takes these sweeping licks against each back and forth, giving them individual care and attention in a way that’s granting pleasure you desperately seek. 

“Delicious,” Minju hums, and doesn’t pause for anything, smirking as her tongue drags up, taking swipes and frantic flicks against the underside of your shaft. 

This teasing, it’s insufferable. 

The soft groans that she coaxes out persist, until eventually her lips hover around your swollen head, and Minju plants a series of wet kisses to coat your dick in that gets you throbbing like crazy. Your patience gets tested as she gathers her messy dark hair into a ponytail in this slow, deliberate way. But you know exactly what’s about to take place. 

Her gaze gets locked tight as her warm tongue swirls around your leaking slit—then she lowers her mouth gradually, and takes just the head into her hot, wet mouth. It’s everything you need. Those perfect lips seal tight, and immediately she bobs her head at a smooth and consistent pace. Not too slow or too fast. 

Minju’s lips work their magic as she works a fist around your throbbing shaft, a grip just right that squeezes right beneath the head that keeps disappearing into her mouth. The tension in your body, it all melts as you sit back and enjoy the warmth of her wet mouth. She’s every bit eager to give everything you desire, this deadly eye contact that never yields, with hollowed cheeks as those soft lips slide down your throbbing cock. 

"Fuck, that’s amazing," you groan out, struggling to catch a steady breath. The way Minju handles your cock is nothing short of masterful, those heavenly soft lips wrapped tight around your shaft, and that equally talented wet tongue that flicks back and forth, tracing along every vein, every sensitive spot. 

It's a little slice of heaven.

Words can’t describe how good Minju’s warm little mouth feels on you. It doesn’t take much for her to get your cock absolutely drenched with a thick layer of saliva, this insatiable hunger to take more, increasing with every stroke her lips make. 

"Just like that, god..." Your voice trails off in a moan as your head hits the back of your chair. “That’s perfect, fuck, Minju—you’re so damn good at this.” 

The words hit her just right. Minju loves the praise, and in return, gives more pleasure, the immaculate pleasure that gets sloppier as she quickens the pace. Her gentle suction increases with every pass of her lips, with every desperate lick and slurp. She doesn’t leave any part out, massaging your balls with her free hand as that delicious mouth swallows up more and more of your length with each and every bob. 

“You really needed this, huh? Needed me to make you feel good?” Minju shows no intention of stopping, your shaft glistening from how much of a sloppy mess she's making. Her soft lips have an intimate way of knowing exactly what you need, this tight airtight seal around your cock every time they slide down, while the gentle tug at your balls gives you a perfect mix of pleasure. 

“It feels so fucking good—ah, fuck, Minju," you say, while your moans fuel this sloppy, absolutely mind-blowing blowjob that you never want to end. If this is going to be a common occurrence, then maybe having Minju around won’t be so bad. And you could get used to the sight of your roommate on her knees. 

This craving for more takes hold, but Minju fulfills it as she goes so deep. Her eyes water the further she gets, but this persistence never waivers, almost reaching the very base as she breathes deeply through her nose to take every last inch to the base. Minju swallows you whole in one motion, and shows no signs of backing down, even as she struggles to hold back her gag reflex.

“Minju—fuck,” you say in between sharp breaths as you stay inside this tight throat while the warmth surrounds you, makes you throb more than ever, building up your release. 

It’s impossible not to stare, impossible not to watch your length disappear again and again between those pretty pink lips as her perfect rhythm continues, this desire that only has one exit. 

“Mm, I can feel you're close," Minju says as she slides your shaft out of her mouth with a wet pop, jerking you off at an agonizingly slow pace. "Tell me where you want to cum. My mouth, my face—or somewhere else?” 

You need a moment to gather your voice before you can even think. 

“Your mouth. Wanna cum in your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Minju quite likes that answer. You aren’t given a moment of respite as she keeps up this same relentless pace, slurping on your length with endless amounts of fervor, with a new goal to suck you absolutely dry. She gets you right on the edge of release, eyes begging, pleading to taste it all, waiting for you to spill down her throat at any moment. 

The desperate look she gives while playing with your balls is more than enough to bring you right over the edge. With a low grunt, you empty into her warm, waiting mouth, thick spurts of hot cum coating the back of Minju's throat like this was just what she was hoping for. The more she drains your balls, the harder you moan, cock twitching with every burst of pleasure, and not a single inch of you isn’t unloading into that talented little mouth. 

Minju happily takes everything, her tongue not letting a single drop spill past those heavenly lips. There's no sign of disappointment on her face as she gulps down your load, with a smile that shows no remorse for taking you over the edge so easily.

"What a huge, delicious load," she murmurs after swallowing it all, running her tongue all over her lips. Minju makes sure to clean every inch of your length, from base to tip, licking and kissing every drop of cum until she's satisfied with her work. 

“Feel better?” 

"Yeah..." you breathe out, struggling to gather yourself, let alone find the right words after the intense high that Minju looks so proud of giving. “Much. Fuck, Minju—you’re amazing. Thanks.” 

“Anytime," she says with a soft laugh, as her hand still clings onto your cock, a few light squeezes and strokes that keep it hard. "Just let me know when you need more, okay? I'll be around."

“I—I should probably get back to work,” you say, sounding almost apologetic. With the euphoric bliss still lingering through your body, you’re not sure how you’ll get any work done, but that’s a worry for another time. 

“Yeah, of course. I still have some unpacking to do.” As Minju rises from her knees, she plants one last soft kiss against your swollen head before getting up to leave you with your thoughts, a moment alone to recuperate. You can't stop yourself from watching as she walks away, drooling over those luscious thighs and that minuscule pair of shorts that her ass practically swallows up. 

Work is the last thing on your mind, but you’ll power through with the help of this appetizer you’ve been given. This little sample is just one dish in a full buffet for what Minju can offer, and there’s no doubt that you’re going back for seconds. 

✦ ✦

It's late in the night by the time Minju stops unpacking. You’ve cleared out the guest bedroom, and she’s settled in enough to make it look like her own space. After working later than usual, you’re slumped on the couch, mindlessly zoning out while the TV drones in the background.

“Hey,“ Minju says as she makes her way in, still dressed in the same attire, this tight tank top that looks even more disheveled, exposing more midriff, and the same gym shorts that you swear look even shorter than earlier. Plopping down beside you, her curves instantly draw your gaze, like this outfit was designed to steal your attention. 

The littlest movement makes her flimsy top ride up, and you have no choice but to stare as Minju adjusts herself, lifting her arms overhead to stretch her arms, which gives a teasing glimpse of those perky tits that seem like they’re just destined to pop out. “Finished with work?” 

Now that there’s a light sheen of sweat worked up from unpacking boxes and organizing her room, her milky white skin looks so good. Minju looks nothing but utterly enticing, which has you dying to get to know that body better.

“All caught up. For now.” 

There hasn't been a moment all day when your full attention hasn’t been elsewhere, when you haven’t been thinking about Minju. She takes another stretch, and you’re sure this is deliberate when it draws a little moan that doesn’t normally come from this sort of relief. This time, your eyes are immediately drawn to her toned stomach, and you can just picture tasting it, covering it in little licks and pecks, this devilish temptation there’s no hope to resist. 

“Well, I should really shower,” Minju says as she starts getting up, but not before giving her stomach a slow caress, like she knows you can't keep your eyes off her. 

“Shower?” There’s obvious intention in the way you repeat it, like you have other plans in mind for her. 

“I’m all sweaty. I’ll be quick. I don’t wanna use up all your hot water.” 

Now, there's only so long you can hold back from testing out the waters, and it only takes a moment to throw aside your own inhibitions. You find sudden courage to give into your urges, and the look on Minju's face can’t hide the surprise from your sudden forwardness. “The shower can wait.“

If Minju’s going to take her clothes off anyway, you might as well give her a head start. 

“Your clothes, Minju." You're still hesitating, even if it's been on your mind all day, even after what she did earlier. "They’ll look better once they’re all off.”

“Then shouldn’t you do something about that, then?” 

There’s a borderline annoyance in her tone, like it’s way too easy if she does it, and wants you to take charge to do it instead. So you’ll indulge that, trailing your hands up her sweaty stomach to take in these perfect abs that flex at your touch.

The sweat that drips on her body, her delicious abs that glisten under your fingertips as you slide up to grab her tits, it heightens your arousal even more. She still isn't wearing a bra, so you give her these light little squeezes through her skimpy top, that makes her back arch, but this annoying barrier of fabric has to go. 

So the moment your hands pull up Minju's top, she lifts her arms to let you slip it off and throw it aside, her tits finally revealed as they spring free. And fuck, are they even better than what you had imagined—soft, round, the perfect size for her body, topped with rosy little nipples that just beg to be touched.

“I can promise you the rest of my body is just as good,” Minju assures as she catches you staring for far too long. No doubt you believe her, because this confidence isn’t just for show, but still, you’ll have to investigate on your own. 

Not the least bit shy, Minju shifts into the couch underneath you, flattening her back on the cushions to bring you down with her. Her slender arms lift high above her head, as if she’s daring you to explore her further, willingly inviting your hands to travel up and down to explore wherever you please. 

You'll accept this invitation without a second thought.

There's an inherent magnetism pulling you closer, as your fingertips caress whatever bare skin is in reach. With so many different paths to explore, all these intoxicating features that you want to taste and lick clean, it’s near impossible to pick where to start. While the gears in your head turn, Minju just stares back, so curious as to what you plan to do first.

It’s impossible to make a decision.

This body, this tight body of a goddess demands your utmost attention. These thick thighs perfect to wrap around your head, wide hips that were made for your hands, and this irresistible stomach that practically screams for you to make a sticky mess on. 

That’s all before you get to see what’s hidden underneath those tiny, barely there shorts. 

Minju’s curiosity doesn’t take long to satisfy while you plant your lips on her stomach, peppering the warm skin in kisses and licks as you taste every inch. This light hint of sweat, the sweetness that you can only attribute to Minju's delicious taste, it all comes from just her sexy stomach. It doesn't take much to imagine what other places would taste like.

The soft sighs that she makes encourage you to lick more, to plant messy kisses that cover every bit of her tight abdomen, while you can hear every breath she takes as you ensure you don’t miss a single spot. 

“God, Minju—“ You continue this feast of unapologetic indulgence, kissing your way upwards towards Minju’s cute chest, roaming between the valley of her breasts. “You’re fucking perfect.” 

“Better not forget that.” Minju gets a shy blush on her cheeks, and her nipples react the moment you tease them by playfully pinching them, rolling them, tugging between your fingers. Before her next breath, you get your lips wrapped around them, and then you take these unabashed slurps, these pretty buds that merit your equal attention. 

The cutest whine escapes Minju when your tongue circles the stiff buds, making them stand out even more under your stimulation. She’s so sensitive, and you relish in that, planning to use it to your advantage later. And fuck, there just isn’t a part of her that doesn’t taste absolutely delicious. 

As breathtaking as the girl’s body is, it’s not even the main event. You’re having too much enjoyment sucking on her cute tits, teasing them with your sloppy tongue, but you just know there’s a growing heat between her thighs, one that mirrors the frustration levels of your dick straining against your pants. 

You’ve got Minju’s body all mapped out, and you could spend all night tasting these delicious curves, devouring her breasts, planting as many kisses on her tummy as you can—but it’s unfair to ignore the other appetizing parts of her deadly figure. 

Besides, you can’t wait to peel those shorts off her ridiculous hips. 

A moment to catch your breath is all you need, because there’s no more time left to hold back your lust. You leave her with one lingering kiss on her stomach, and then your greedy hands peel those annoying shorts off with Minju’s assistance when she lifts her butt up. Through that eager smile, she doesn’t spoil the surprise that there's not even a pair of underwear underneath to stand in the way of her naked body—

That silky smooth, shaven pussy is all you can focus on, already soaking wet when she parts her thighs to give a tempting glimpse at those pink lips, and all you can think about is what they'll feel like wrapped around your cock. 

“Do you normally not wear panties, Minju?” you say, taking a moment to admire the sight of her bare cunt in its glory. 

“Depends on the company,” she admits, this faux innocent expression that is anything but that washes over her. You can’t go another second without getting your cock out, desperate for any kind of relief from this persistent ache while you unzip your pants. Minju watches you strip down with the same hunger in her gaze, shirt pulled over your head in one motion, and then your pants slide off along with your boxers. 

"That's much better," Minju says, and gets her fingers wrapped around your shaft, with no intention of doing anything else except for that. “It's so big, so perfect for me..." 

A firm squeeze gets your throbs going, as if you needed any encouragement to be rock hard, and Minju gets this content little smile at feeling it grow even more between her fingers. 

As the moments pass, her innocent demeanor fades, replaced by a longing gaze fixated on your hardened shaft, where there’s only one destination your length needs to sink into. Sprawling out on the cushions, Minju stretches out her long legs that are practically built to wrap around your body. 

Those wet folds, and your throbbing cock, there's only one outcome when they have their first meeting. 

With no reluctance, you position yourself between Minju's spread thighs, feeling how slick her pussy has gotten with anticipation. You run your cock against her dripping folds that glisten, teasing her slit as your shaft coats itself in her wetness. "It'll fit inside you so fucking well." 

You’re too speechless to apologize to Minju for not eating her out first, but judging by the way she’s looking at you, she’ll live. The initial plunge rips a heavy moan right out of your throat, all these sensations hitting all at once. There's no pause when you pull back, then slide in again unabated, pushing more of your thick shaft into this perfect pussy. 

"Fuck, you're so damn tight, Minju, god—"

“Did you expect anything else?” she asks, before another moan tears through her. There's no resistance to impede you, just inviting wet flesh that wraps around your cock in this wetness, your cockhead sliding deeper into the warmth of her cunt with ease.

“Oh my god.” Her walls tighten around your shaft, this overwhelming heat welcoming every inch into her cunt like it belongs there. “This pussy is perfect. I’m going to use it every chance I get.” 

“I sure hope so. That’s what I’m here for.” 

With nothing else but a confident smile on Minju’s face, and nothing but these erotic little moans as her walls stretch to accommodate every inch, until you can bottom her out for the first time. She’s so fucking tight it’s almost painful, this absolute vice grip that squeezes the life out of your cock, ensuring you aren’t going anywhere. “Your cock is so thick, it’s filling me up so well…” 

The urge to just drive your cock as deep inside of her as possible becomes overwhelming, and Minju doesn't give any signs that she wants to be treated delicately. There's no room for restraint or holding back with how well she takes it all, how badly she craves every inch you've got. “Don’t think for a moment I can’t take you all.” 

So you let the carnal urges take control, grabbing her slender waist and pounding into this heavenly cunt with no remorse. 

“Minju, fuck, your pussy feels so good,” you growl, each thrust only making you want to stay buried in there longer. You’re hitting all the right angles, creating an erotic soundtrack of flesh while Minju's wet cunt swallows you up to the base, squeezing in just the perfect way around every last inch as you pull back and plunge right back in.

“And it’ll feel even better when you cum inside.” 

There’s hardly even any time to think of a response before Minju wraps her long legs around your waist, digging her heels into the small of your back so she can draw your cock in even deeper. “I hope you weren’t expecting to pull out."

Hearing those words is like a shot of adrenaline that makes you pound into her cunt with everything you have, burying your cock balls deep with every long, powerful stroke. 

“Not a fucking chance, Minju. I’m pounding this perfect cunt until I fuck a load inside you.” 

There’s a devilish grin on her face when she hears that, legs tightening to make you backup your words, her dripping pussy clenching harder as if trying to coax that load out sooner. “With how deep you’re fucking me, you better not do anything else.” 

Through all these harsh thrusts, and the rough pistoning of your hips, you need to pull back every once in a while. Only so you can have the perfect view of Minju's body covered in more sweat than before, even more irresistible to not lick the side of her neck, savoring every little taste you can get. 

And the noises she makes only get filthier the harder your hips move, the best encouragement for you to bury your face into the crook of her neck as her beautiful legs keep your body hostage. This pounding is everything you’ve needed, keeping Minju breathless in her moans, a symphony of pleasure that gets siphoned right in your ears.

“This is how I’m going to destroy your cunt when I fuck you. Every single time. Your pretty pussy won’t go a day without getting a huge fucking load inside.” 

“Yeah? You promise?” Minju asks, and you’re fucking her so well, so hard, that she’s getting delirious. “There’s nothing better than getting a nice, thick load filling me up first thing in the morning.” 

That’s all the motivation you need to keep this train of pleasure going. 

Minju can feel it. She can feel how your thick cock twitches with every deep stroke, the pleasure becoming far too much for you to bear. At the tail end of an especially harsh thrust, she wraps her arms around your neck and holds tight, not leaving an inch of space between the two of you while you drill as hard as your hips allow. "Please, I'm going to cum. Keep fucking me, please keep fucking me like this…"

The begging flows freely right into your ears, and these desperate pleas offer another wave of encouragement that pulls you closer and closer to release. And it’s not like you can do much at this point but keep your hips moving, while Minju clings to you, limbs coiled like she never plans on letting you escape.

“Don't stop—I'm going to cum so fucking hard!" Minju cries out, and there's no need to hold anything back as she chases after that release. 

Wanting to speed this up, your lips latch onto Minju's sweaty neck, planting sloppy kisses that make her walls flutter, spilling more wetness while you crash your hips into her. Her thighs can’t stop quivering, breathing frantically until that intense orgasm is almost in range, back arching up in time for the final waves of bliss to crash into her. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ A litany of curses leaves her mouth , filling the room, and then Minju tightens her hold as these messy juices gush all over your cock, unleashing the most unrestrained orgasm of her life that erupts in her body. Through it all, her warm cunt spasms, convulsing, these drenched walls constricting so hard to the point where there's no other alternative than to paint her insides a creamy white. 

“Cum in me, fuck—oh my god, I want it all, fill my fucking pussy,” Minju begs and pleads, her trembling legs with a death grip around your waist. And then she cries out in loud, incoherent moans, only managing to spill out one more thing: "Fucking breed me—"

There’s absolutely nothing that can prepare you for the feeling when you unload inside. Your climax explodes into Minju without warning, several thick spurts of cum flooding deep within her cunt, warm walls squeezing to milk it all out of your balls. Each violent throb is a fresh surge that sends an extra big mess of thick seed into her pussy, an increasing fullness that clings inside while your pulsating cock empties this massive load into Minju. 

During this intense orgasm, Minju’s alluring legs lock you in place, guaranteeing you can't pull out for a second, not until all your pleasure reaches its apex. 

You might be here forever, you think, trapped inside this warm paradise, but you’d be more than happy to never move another inch inside Minju all night. While she basks in the obscene pleasure of her cunt now full to the brim, you can only move enough to pump your load deep, deeper inside her until it finds her womb. 

"That's a lot of cum," Minju says, and she looks absolutely delighted at the mess you've made inside her, like she’s accomplished something grand just by making you explode inside her cunt. 

You have a feeling a hot load inside Minju will be a common sight as coffee being brewed, and it’s almost like she hasn’t drained you once already with this load that’s promising to make a mess whenever it spills out. 

“So, how about that shower,” you suggest, even while Minju hasn't even released the hold from your body yet. She doesn’t have the slightest intentions of getting cleaned up anytime soon, wanting to let this high linger a while longer. 

“Like you said—the shower can wait.” 

There’s never been a better idea. 

"Yeah, it can wait." 

You share a tired kiss as Minju keeps you close, bodies sticky as her limbs finally uncoil and relax. It’s near impossible to not collapse on her from exhaustion, but from the way she gazes at you with thirst lingering in her eyes, there's no such thing as rest. Not when you have this endless freedom to use her as your own personal toy.

When you do eventually pull out, leaving Minju with all of your cum pumped into her tight little cunt, there’s nothing but gratitude on her face to see the results leak out. And when she grabs your cock that’s more than a little sensitive, to give these weak little pumps, you don't have the strength to beg her to stop.

“Minju—“ It feels more like she’s teasing you, rather than attempting to get you back into a proper state of arousal with such lackadaisical motions. "Are you trying to get me to fuck you again?"

“Hmm, maybe,” Minju says, giving you a fleeting glance, and doesn’t mouth anything else, like she’s trying to demonstrate that you can recover earlier than you think, wanting your balls to fill back up sooner than later. “Seems like you might have one more in you…” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

With whatever energy is left, you put it into kissing Minju, to explore these lips that haven’t even gotten half the attention deserved. Also as a poor excuse to extend the time you’ll need to recover. Neither of you have any intention of going anywhere during this lazy make-out session, and even while you’re both covered in fluids, you’ll kiss Minju until your jaw hurts. 

“Not bad,” Minju says, a sudden compliment as the kiss intensifies, until her hand slides between your legs to keep pumping your cock, ensuring not a single inch softens. 

“Which part?” you ask, not that you’re particularly interested in anything other than dominating this lip embrace.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she teases, while you plant these light kisses that purposely miss her lips. “But… the part where you’re good at kissing me. And the part where you came inside me. ”

“Sounds like you want more.” 

“Yeah… maybe….” 

“Then consider me convinced,” you say, helping her stand upright, and lead her towards the bathroom—leaving the remnants of your messy load that leaks out of her pussy all over the couch. That’s a problem for another time.

The walk to the bathroom is short, but still gives you plenty of time to stare at Minju’s tight butt, and the mess that clings to her glistening thighs. One of the best features of this apartment is how spacious the shower is, more than enough to fit a second person—or a third, if you were so inclined. 

But neither of you are interested in the shower. 

Minju leans over the sink to check herself out in the mirror, running fingers through her hair to somewhat put herself back together. Staring at her own reflection puts a grin on her face, proud of how disheveled she looks, while also noticing the dark mark in the shape of your lips on her neck.

“You know, I forgot to pack a toothbrush,” she says out of nowhere, attention turned away from herself to the contents of the sink. 

“I can buy you one in the morning.” 

You lean in closer, and your hands snake around Minju’s perfectly slim waist, eager to feel up her tight abdomen once more. That mark on her neck is like a target, and when you take a deep inhale of her intoxicating scent, you make sure to cover her neck in kisses that make her giggle. 

“You came in my mouth. I think you’ll live if we share a toothbrush for one night.” Minju rolls her hips back, grinding against your erection to reawaken your cock back to full strength. These little kisses turn more lustful as she turns her head to connect lips with you for a more sloppy, wet, all-consuming embrace. 

“Fair point.” 

Your hands are far too greedy at this point to do anything but grope Minju’s naked body. The touch of her smooth skin reinvigorates you, sending blood back into all the right places, something that’s blatantly obvious to this naked girl in front of you. 

“I can feel how hard you are again,” Minju mutters, with this shy little expression on her features that’s so out of place. She pushes away from the sink, pressing her lithe figure back, and it's hard not to picture fucking Minju here, slamming your hips hard enough between her shapely cheeks to ripple them. 

“Yeah? Wonder whose fault that is...” The idea becomes more concrete when you squeeze that supple ass, your greedy fingertips sinking into the tender flesh, like her backside was made for your palm to smack as you get in a few light slaps that echo. 

“Do you think my cock will fit in here?” 

Spreading her round cheeks, you get a glimpse at how her puckered hole twitches, already craving you inside it. That bubble butt is absolutely perfect in your hands, and it’s no trouble at all to spread Minju open, as you wonder how it’ll feel to rub your cockhead against her tightest hole. 

"We can always find out.” Minju gets this sultry tone in her voice, hands lingering on the cool countertop as she bends over even further, her ass imploring you to fill that hole. It makes it hard to stay focused with this perfect cunt and tight little asshole both accessible, but there’s only one problem—

“It’s a shame the lube is in the bedroom. And I can’t be bothered to take my eyes off this tight little ass.” 

"Tease.” 

“I would never.” 

There’s nothing in reach that’s anything but a poor substitute, but you’re not going to walk away for something in your nightstand when you’re throbbing so much between the cheeks of such a perfect ass. So, regrettably, you'll have to postpone your plans to pound Minju's ass. It’ll make it worth the wait that much more. 

Without another word, you guide your length back into her warm little pussy, grabbing her curvy hips to slide back in. 

“Oh fuck— ” When your hardened shaft plunges deep between her legs, Minju nearly collapses over the sink. Her hot cunt feels more than ready for you, all this wetness pooled that’s infused with the creamy mess you left earlier staining her walls. 

The second your hips move, those pretty fucking moans from Minju have no trouble echoing around the walls. Her seductive stare beckons you to fuck her like the toy she promises to be, to use her until she can’t take anymore—a temptation too sweet to turn down. 

"Just like that, your cock is so good, god—just ruin me, fuck, please—“ Minju’s eyes widen from how hard you start slamming into her. This time, there’s absolutely no chance to adjust, nothing less but an incessant replay of your hips as you sink into the hilt, pounding her like the warm, wet, wonderful cocksleeve that she is, getting those heavenly walls stretched out all over again.

With no restraint in your thrusts, you can truly pound this tight pussy without mercy. The warmth that smothers your cock, how slick her pussy has gotten—god, it feels so fucking good that you don't ever want to stop, even after you pump another hot load.

“That's it, right there—right there, harder," she says with these breathless whines that are nothing more than unabashed encouragement. Fingers trembling, they dig into the porcelain of the sink, making the entire bathroom resonate with the harsh, wet smacks of flesh colliding together, in unison with each thrust. "Use that pussy—fuck, make me take it all, use me, god, use me, fucking use me—“

Those words, they make it so easy to do so, to keep up these thrusts, to just ram your cock into this hot little cunt that’s aching to be full, clenching down around you like it'll never let go.

And this ass—Minju’s got a perfect fucking ass, that you're already fantasizing about plowing. There's just no end to how much it bounces, the erotic jiggle that fuels your need to smack your palm against it, leaving red marks that'll stay on that pale flesh. 

"You're so fucking wet for me, Minju, god,” you groan out, pulling your cock out just so you can admire all the slick coating every single inch, before shoving it right back in. Minju bites down on her lip, trying to contain her moans with this near blush on her face from enjoying the rough treatment of her body far too much, moaning in bliss every time your thrusts make her hips jerk against the sink. 

“I just can’t help it. Your cock is too fucking big, my little pussy just loves it.” These constant smacks, they make her cunt clench, the pain forming additional pleasure. After your next heavy slap on her ass, your free hand ventures up her bare back, caressing along her spine in a gentle touch. But that gentleness doesn’t last when your fingers form a fistful of Minju's silky black strands—and a firm tug lifts her back so she's staring right into her reflection.

There's something to be said about being able to see Minju's pretty face as you wreck her body. All these priceless reactions she can't hide as she watches herself getting ravaged in the mirror that her hot breath fogs up. It’s an image you’ll never forget. 

You keep a tight handful of hair, each tug and yank rewarded with another moan, and she can barely even keep her eyes open, drunk on bliss as you dominate her body with every powerful plunge of your cock into that drenched warm flesh. 

Minju, through all these rough pumps and strained moans, can hardly keep up. Scrambling to keep a hold of the sink for dear life, she braces for each punishing stroke that reaches into her depths, your deep, rough thrusts that only grow in ferocity as you're both on the cusp of another release.

"Almost there, god—you're so deep, gonna cum so hard," Minju groans out as a euphoric wave hits her body with no chance of escape. "Make me cum on your big fucking cock—make me cum, oh fuck!"

That’s the only warning you’ll get. When the arrival of her violent climax hits, it gets her legs trembling, that sweaty body so close to collapsing that it leaves you to support all her weight as her toes curl into the bathroom rug, walls clamping down around your cock so snug it makes you grit your teeth. You fuck her right through this tsunami of pleasure, hips maintaining the same brutal pace, following the same path she takes until you’re nearly at the boiling point. 

“Minju,“ you growl, and there’s little else that needs to be said to know where this is headed. 

This isn’t asking for permission, but rather giving a final notice that this thick load that’s about to leave your balls desperately needs somewhere to go.

“Where?” Minju asks, struggling to get one little syllable out, and the question lingers as you get your final thrusts in. Without a response, you stare at the reflection in the mirror, pounding into this unbelievably tight girl with everything you have left to offer, until the last possible moment—

“Get on your knees.” 

Pulling out proves to be a challenge, but you've got plans that demand it as you give Minju enough time to collapse down without a shred of resistance, and you can already tell this is going to be a messy finale. The moment her knees touch the cold tile floor, you grab a hold of that gorgeous hair as you furiously stroke yourself in front of her face, squeezing your length that feels absolutely primed to erupt.

You let out a guttural groan of relief when you start to unload all over Minju's pristine features, this massive jet of hot, sticky seed that she doesn’t even flinch at as it lands square in the middle of her forehead, streaking down her cute nose. Your uncontrollable load blasts everywhere, across those pretty pink lips, splattering across cheek to rosy cheek while she stays perfectly still, letting you paint her like the masterpiece she is. 

It just gets everywhere. The beautiful canvas that is Minju’s face, it’s an absolute mess, cum dripping down her chin, a stray strand landing in her hair, more running down the bridge of her nose as you pump it all out and glaze her.

There's just so fucking much that it has Minju looking at you through this hot mess in a stunned silence, wondering how you even managed to have that much pent up inside—this load that has no right being so huge that you almost feel inclined to apologize. But this is really her doing, this sinful body of hers to blame for such a gratuitous payload. 

"There you go, all over this pretty little face," Minju says as she stares in awe, bewildered by how much of you she’s covered in. Your massive load drips down her lips as her tongue catches it, and not a single drop goes to waste. “How do you still have so much—didn’t you just finish inside me?” 

That’s a really good fucking question.

 One without an answer as Minju gives you a long lick of your cockhead before taking it back in her mouth, sucking the rest of you clean with a satisfied hum as it continues to drip down her face. 

“Well—only have you to blame, fuck,“ you groan, and you might just pass out with the way Minju refuses to let that hot mouth off you. “Yeah, this is definitely all your fault. 

Nothing but elation etches Minju’s face when she kisses the tip of your cock one last time, her gratitude for your cum written on her lips. Using a couple of fingers, she cleans up by swirling cum around her lips until it coats her fingertips, then puts them in her mouth, licking them clean, giving an audible slurp as she sucks every last drop down.

Maybe it’s about time for that shower. 

That is, if you could only move. Because even though the shower is only inches away, it might as well be in a whole different neighborhood with how weak and heavy your legs feel. There’s no time to rush, and you don’t mind a few more lingering moments seeing your messy load dripping across this girl. 

“You’re so pretty, Minju.” 

Minju only smiles with those cum-stained lips as the hot water starts. 

✦ ✦

Over the next few days, you’ve gotten quite comfortable fucking Minju on the regular.

This little arrangement already has lived up to its potential, and you wonder how you were ever reluctant about having a roommate—especially with these benefits. The only possible complaint you have is that there just aren’t enough hours in the day to spend balls deep inside Minju. 

There’s no routine to it. When the mood hits. When the clock ends in a seven. When you’re waiting for leftovers to heat up, you’ll seek out Minju to suck your dick, or bend her over whatever surface is closest. 

And it never gets old. 

During work, she’ll sit on your lap, keeping you company during a dull day with your cock all nice and warm inside her, like this little office pet of yours that knows the right moments to keep quiet. In between meetings, you'll bend her over the desk and pump that tight little cunt full of another thick load that she’ll keep inside while she goes to prepare lunch. 

It’s not unusual to be on a video call with a client, with Minju sucking you off underneath the desk, keeping her sloppy mouth on your shaft all the while you carry on business. And the best part—she’ll straddle you, right on top of your office chair, bouncing up and down on your cock with a dozen or so other coworkers on a conference call who are none the wiser. 

Minju is well aware what time you wake up, so almost every morning before you've even tossed the sheets off, she knows exactly what you'll want—a warm mouth deepthroating your cock without being told. 

Later that afternoon, there’s a new book to immerse herself in as she finds her favorite spot to cozy up in when you unbutton her jeans, slipping them off to spread those long, smooth legs so you can feast on her delectable pussy. Minju reads as if nothing is happening, like you don’t have your tongue buried in her cunt, warming up her tight little entrance just enough to slip your cock inside her without distraction. You don’t want to break her concentration too much, so you try your best not to make much noise, but well, it can’t exactly be helped when she feels so fucking warm and wet inside. 

The only acknowledgment given is these subtle moans that slip out when you get every inch of your cock in her, hands holding that narrow waist with a tight, unrelenting grip. But Minju, she’s too lost in this completely different world while you fill her up so perfectly, not even looking up as you fuck her. 

And honestly, sometimes that’s for the best—being able to use her while she’s preoccupied, without either of you muttering a word as you slide balls deep into her incredibly warm cunt. It doesn’t mean, though, that you can’t challenge yourself to get a moan out of her. 

When you inevitably cum inside Minju, a faint smile creeps up on her lips. Otherwise, she doesn’t say a word, turning more pages while you pump a hot mess inside her. She only takes notice of the steady flow of cum inside once you exit her warmth, one hand playing with your load and pushing it deeper into her messy folds, while the other hand continues reading her book. 

The following day, as the coffee brews, your roommate is already on her knees, and you’re fucking her face so roughly that tears stream down her cheeks while she gags around your cock. There’s not any makeup yet on that gorgeous face to ruin, but Minju guzzles down your load and goes about making breakfast, like it's all part of her routine. 

First thing, the next morning during work, you’re railing Minju in your office chair, with her gorgeous, sexy legs perched on your shoulders while you’re taking a short break from another tedious conference call. At this rate, your flimsy chair might give way before either of you cum, but that doesn’t matter too much—you can get your work to buy another one. 

You’re absolutely not paying attention to anything but the pleasure of Minju's tight cunt. 

The breathless moans from her lips are a much better alternative than whatever monotonous voice through the speakers drones on about spreadsheets and analytics. Even though your job doesn’t require you to step inside an office often, your cock buried inside Minju is the only way you can survive these remote meetings—but you continuously double-check that the camera is off and the microphone is muted. That’s a mistake you’ll only let happen once. 

Now that you have Minju all to yourself once the call ends, you lift her body up into the air, cock still buried, and impale her pussy just as hard as before while her legs wrap around your waist. 

She feels so small as you bounce her frame up and down, this weightless girl that’s light as a feather. You could carry Minju around the apartment if you wanted, but this is far more satisfying, a test of how many times you can make her cum while holding her up in your arms, absolutely hammering into her soaking cunt until you fill her to the brim. 

Later on in the afternoon, you get the urge again (as you tend to do), and Minju is sitting comfortably on her bed, laptop out, concentrating on what you presume is finding her next paycheck. Once you walk in, the laptop lid shuts, and she takes those big, cute frames off and tosses them on her nightstand, leaning back onto the bed in anticipation. 

You feel guilty disturbing her search, but you're exhausted from a workday that isn’t even over, so this won’t take long. 

Discarding your pants, you climb onto the bed, hovering your crotch above Minju's face, and pull your cock out of your boxers, as you start to stroke in her direction.

The mere sight of that beautiful face is enough to help you get off without any trouble. A few final tugs and you're there, groaning her name as you spray a pearlescent mess all over her face, thick cum shooting onto her cheek, landing on those pretty lips, a line across her nose, some up the side of her forehead. The relief is instant, the stress of a long day fading away while Minju lies there for you to stare at, your cock resting against her lips as you milk out every drop.

"Thanks, Minju. I needed that," you sigh, taking one more look at your impressive handiwork. “Gotta get back to work now.” 

✦ ✦

Minju hasn’t forgotten to hold up her side of the bargain. 

She’s here to get her shit together, not be a freeloader. While she’s financially destitute at the moment, she pays rent in other ways. Ways that aren’t giving head during a movie or being your personal on-demand fucktoy. Almost every night, without fail, Minju cooks up a delicious meal (and she's equally talented at it as she is at sucking you off). She'll even bring dinner to your office if you're working late and forget to eat. Not only does she do the laundry but also keeps the apartment in order, replenishing the fridge whenever needed.

This all buys you more time to fold Minju in half and unload what feels like a week’s worth of cum onto her flat stomach.

So, it goes without saying that your apartment would be in much rougher shape without Minju. That she’s more than just a warm hole to fuck your load into. She's a pleasure to be around, an ear to vent your frustrations to, someone whose absence would leave a noticeable void. 

Sure, it’s nice to fuck Minju senseless whenever you’re all pent up, but having someone across the kitchen table to talk to during a meal, or someone to watch bad movies with on the couch is just as valuable. 

Which brings you to the here and now. 

It's early afternoon, after finishing a mountain of work, and you go looking for Minju to escape these four walls of your home office that feel like a prison. She’s in her bedroom, sorting through laundry, and stops what she’s doing when you enter. 

Because one glance and she already knows. 

Minju lies on her stomach while you stand in front of her bed, stroking her gorgeous face as she gazes up and gets your cock out. With just the lightest of strokes, her delicate hand pumps the length of your cock, bringing you to full arousal in no time. And once you are, you glide the swollen head of your shaft over her glossy lips, coating them in your glistening precum. 

"You always need my mouth so much, don't you?" she purrs, teasing your cock with her hot breath, tongue dancing across the sensitive underside.

Letting out these little gasps is the only thing you answer, unable to give a proper response as your shaft stiffens unbearably so against the wet tongue caressing you, then her lips part with no further need of words, and invite you to guide yourself into the warm heaven of her mouth. 

A full, deep sigh leaves as those beautiful lips envelop your swollen cockhead. And god, her mouth feels so perfect, so warm while you thread fingers through her hair, holding her in place. She drools down your length, giving more playful licks before starting to devour your length inch by inch, all the way until her nose is nearly pressed against your stomach. 

"Minju—this pretty fucking mouth—fuck," you moan, just relishing her slow, steady bobs as she takes you deep, all of you inside her wet throat, looking right up at you. She savors your taste before saying anything else, lips popping off your shaft with trails of spit down her chin. 

"It feels so good, right? My pretty mouth wrapped around you,” she murmurs, spitting on your throbbing shaft to get it even more glistening, stroking it, rubbing that little sensitive sweet spot she knows you love. “Because your thick cock tastes so fucking good." 

That warm, talented mouth returns, swallowing you whole in one go, and you’re tempted to just fuck her throat to completion—but this blowjob isn't meant for the finish line, even as Minju eagerly deepthroats your length, craving to milk out a load from your balls as soon as possible. 

“Minmin, I—really need to fuck you." There’s a pause in her sloppy movements, to acknowledge the nickname you've called her, like she wants to hear it again. In this moment, you let Minju's warm mouth work her magic on your throbbing shaft, indulging in the sinful slurps she makes, as her tongue lavishes your cock until there’s not a single inch unexplored. But as good as her mouth is, it’s not enough—you need to be elsewhere, somewhere warmer, much tighter, to really satiate this appetite. 

“Stay right fucking there.” 

Minju obliges, staying flat on her stomach, and awaits what’s next with this innocent look full of curiosity as you approach from behind. And while she’s still got on all these bothersome clothes, you quickly rectify that, unbuttoning and tugging her jeans down to her ankles to grant a path to that delicious-looking cunt. 

When you climb on top of Minju, her pussy glistens in anticipation. It takes only a few shallow thrusts to bury your needy cock to the hilt, letting out a strained groan when you're fully sheathed inside her tight warmth. Her little whimpering cries tell you she needs this as much as you did, as her wet folds greedily pull you in, demanding more and more. 

“Oh god, fuck, you fill me up so well,” Minju moans, as you start pounding her tight cunt without warning. No teasing, no mercy. Nothing but a rough, relentless fuck that leaves both of you breathless as she takes every inch, laying idle to accept it all.“Please, just—fuck me, fuck me as hard as you can.” 

Pressing your whole body into Minju's slender figure, you pound away with no restrictions, relishing this prone position that lets you get as deep into this welcoming heat as you please. “Oh my god, Minju—your pussy is—un-fucking-believable."

Here, you can dominate Minju without restriction, and she takes it as well as you imagine. A shuddering groan leaves her lips every time your hips collide, when you plow into her at this rapid pace. While she usually can’t stay quiet while you're balls deep in her, all of a sudden Minju goes silent, not letting a single syllable slip as you ram her cunt with such unforgiving thrusts.

“Hey, uh—“ Minju breaks the silence as you keep her tight frame pinned into the mattress, going as hard as your hips will allow. “Do you mind not cumming inside me this time?” 

Your body takes a pause, and your hips slow down as you register her words. There’s only one instinct, and that’s to empty inside her like usual. It's become so natural that hearing her suggest anything else makes it feel… wrong.

“Asking a lot here, Minju. Do you want me to stop breathing as well?” The audacity of this request when you’ve gone all out at it from the get-go. It’s so sudden and unexpected, because Minju’s the first to beg and beg for you to breed her. 

“It’s just once. I have an interview in half an hour, so I’d rather not have to shower again.” 

She’s really asking for the impossible here. 

“But then I can fuck you again in the shower…” you say amidst all this intense fucking, but the look Minju flashes back tells you that isn’t the answer she wanted. So while Minju’s taking you so hard and fast during this rough fucking, with your full weight on her as you’re pounding away in her slick heat, your cock so eager and ready to explode, yet somehow, you’re expected to pull out—

“Fine. But only this once.” And you can’t believe that you’ve agreed to this the moment those words slip out. 

“Hey, you can still cum in my mouth,” Minju says with this proud tone, like it’s any consolation. “I’ll make it worth your while when I come back. Promise. I owe you.” 

You’re never one to doubt Minju, but this is one big favor she’s going to have to pay back, with interest. Even so, a sigh of frustration escapes your lips when you pull out, flip Minju on her back, and straddle her chest to finish yourself off. 

When you shoot your hot load into her mouth, painting her waiting tongue and lips in these white streaks, it’s a relatively weak and unfulfilling climax in comparison. Despite that, Minju’s still happy to take it, to swallow it all down greedily, like she’s dying for a second one that there’s no time for. 

“Good luck,” you mumble out with a strangled breath as Minju slurps your cock clean with her hungry lips. You can see a mix of satisfaction and disappointment etched on her face that mirrors you, because you both know that load belonged in her pussy. 

“Thank you. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Then you can breed me as many times as you want.” 

✦ ✦

Minju has spoiled you to no end. 

There isn’t a single day when she doesn’t so much as wish good night without draining your balls. Whether you prefer a quick, sloppy blowjob, railing Minju from behind, or watching her fit body do all the work, riding until you finish deep inside her, she doesn’t head to bed without you filling her up.

It’s routine to fuck a load into her first thing in the morning, whether she's brushing her teeth, putting on makeup, or simply eating breakfast. 

This agreement, it's been long enough that you no longer feel the apprehension about using Minju, no qualms about spending every morning with her lips on your cock, to spend afternoons with her face in the couch cushions, drilling her wet little hole while she answers her phone to respond to appointments and interviews.

Nearly two hours pass before Minju returns. The door closes shut with an exhausted sigh, and she sets down her bag, kicking off her heels, and takes a seat right next to you on the couch.

“How did it go?” 

Minju doesn't have an immediate answer. Her focus is elsewhere as she stretches her legs across your lap, settling into a more comfortable position on the couch before responding.

“I…I don’t know. Maybe it went well. Maybe it didn’t. I think they liked me—but that doesn’t mean I’ll get the job.” 

There's a certain hesitation when she answers, like there’s more she wants to talk about but chooses not to. You know firsthand how taxing these interviews can be, as you’ve been on both sides of them, especially for Minju, who tries to look as flawless as can be, only to be passed over because her resumé isn't a mile long. 

“If you don’t, then it means they picked the wrong person.” 

Minju smiles shyly before her eyes drift away. Now, it feels strange to watch someone so usually full of confidence look so unsure of herself. But she shakes that off quickly, like that self-doubting voice doesn’t belong to her, reverting back to that same bright expression. “Whatever happens happens. I'm just thankful you're letting me stay here practically rent free.” 

“Well, you can stay as long as you need. Even if you find a job, there's no need to rush out. This place would be too quiet without you around."

In her black pleated skirt, Minju climbs up and straddles your lap. She leans in and presses her soft lips on your own in a quick kiss, making no attempt to hide her affection.

“So. I owe you a promise."

The insinuation hangs heavy on her words as a shameless smirk takes over her lips. Even after the stressful events earlier, Minju never misses a chance to satisfy your desires, so quick to change from this somber tone into her role as your plaything, like a switch being flipped. 

“If I remember correctly… you keep your lube in the bedroom drawer, right?” 

You’ve done almost everything to Minju; fucking her brains out in every corner of every room, in practically every position imaginable, yet you've done almost nothing to appreciate her exceptional ass. At the bare minimum, you've enjoyed the sight of those perfect plump cheeks as she endlessly rides your cock, but aside from giving them a firm squeeze or some light spanks, it hasn't had the attention it deserves. 

While you have this insatiable hunger to wreck her ass, this is still entirely uncharted territory. So you respond to Minju with a silent nod, getting your hands on her underneath her skirt, grabbing that taut butt through her thin underwear to enjoy this divine handful. 

“I’ll go get it,” Minju offers with a lingering kiss to your cheek, but you grab her wrist to stop her path before she can get off your lap.

“Not yet.” 

Your hold on Minju doesn’t falter as you knead her asscheeks, not willing to part yet. ”Stay here. So I can see how pretty you are.”

Those cute pink cheeks that you covered in your load earlier now have a rosy tint as she looks up, letting you savor this moment a little longer. Your mind races with all the things you’ve yet to do, this perfect hourglass body that’s yours to explore, to use, to do whatever you can imagine. Yet, there’s only one thing you haven’t done to this beautiful girl, one place your cock hasn’t had the pleasure being in—

“What was it you wanted? To see if your cock would fit in my ass?” 

There’s no need for this extravagant fantasy to drag on, so you lift her up still with a firm grip on her ass, and bring her into your bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Minju.” 

“Me neither.” She sits in your lap as she admits, and with your arms propped back against the mattress, you watch Minju with unwavering attention. 

Every button on her blouse gets undone one by one, tantalizingly slow until it falls open to reveal more pale skin that complements the pink lacy bra you've bought for her. Once that comes off, you take in all that wonderful skin, drinking in those breasts that spill out, and her tight tummy that you've painted with so many loads already. 

“Now the skirt,” you tell her, and Minju flashes a smirk at your impatience. But she obeys, gets off your lap, unzips, then lets the garment fall down those smooth thighs until it lands in a pile around her feet, leaving Minju standing before you in only matching pink lace.

Before her underwear comes off, she spins on her heels to show off this perfect little ass in front of your face, bending over so you can take in the sight of those ample curves that frame your view so nicely. "Care to do the honors?" 

The answer is obvious. 

Giving those cheeks a nice little smack, you hook a finger under the waistband of her thong and slowly peel this little pair of lace down, leaving no detail of her round, scrumptious cheeks unseen, and exposing this tight little asshole you're dying to stretch.

"Hey—are you just going to stare all day, or are you going to put your cock in my ass?”

A difficult choice for sure—with the latter infinitely more enticing. Minju answers the question for herself as you stay perched on the edge of the bed, your focus never shifting from that delicious backside. She heads towards the bedside table, opening a drawer to fetch something. When she returns, you’ve matched her state of undress, getting your own clothes off in a flash. 

Bottle in hand, her gaze trails down your body to see this aching hard length that needs somewhere to sink inside; the sight making her salivate as she reaches for your shaft and pours a generous amount of lube into her hand.

Minju coats your entire cock in the cool, slick lube that only heats up once her hand pumps it, leaving every single inch drenched. This liquid has other plans too, slicking up her fingers before they slip between her own asscheeks, spreading herself and working the lubed digits inside her puckered hole in preparation for what's next.

“You look like you're ready to tear me open," she says, eyes widened at the sight of your big, thick cock, all lubed and primed for her asshole. This isn't an exaggeration as you lie back, watching the beautiful body of Minju straddle over your hips, hovering above you until she finds the right position.

"And you look like you can't wait to have this entire cock inside you."

"Of course I can't," she breathes out, lining you up with her tight asshole. One deep breath later, and she lowers down on you, trying to breach through that taut ring of muscle. You’re not sure how even a single inch plans to fit, and already it feels like it's stretching her beyond what's reasonable. Regardless, Minju still lets out these desperate moans as she tries to work your cockhead inside. 

“Shit, oh fuck—" Minju swears this isn’t her first time taking something up there, but with how tight this ass is, you’re not sure that you believe her.

The intense stretch has Minju crying out in bliss, doing all the work as she takes it nice and slow at first. Her fingers find her plump cheeks, spreading them just a little wider so she can fit more of your girth in. You can feel the desperation, that she really does want more of your thick cock buried in her asshole, and you’re aching to make her take your entire shaft with one swift drop of her hips—but she can barely manage your tip.

"You're really getting all in my ass, aren’t you?” she says with a moan, and you’re getting too impatient with the tease of this tight, gripping warmth as more of you sinks into Minju, disappearing past her puckered rim.

Minju puts in all this effort to take more, but there isn’t enough resistance in your muscles to just sit back and enjoy it. Patience thrown away, your own hips rise to meet her halfway, unable to keep your body from moving at all, getting a good grip as you guide her down, bit by bit.

"Keep going, Minmin, that's it," you encourage, and she does her best to obey, lowering her ass until she has almost every inch of you buried. That final push makes her cheeks come in contact with your balls, and her eyes shoot open.

"Oh fuck, oh my god—" Minju sounds so strained and overwhelmed that it almost sounds painful, but her nails only dig into your thighs, anchoring herself to keep you balls deep in her asshole as she looks over her shoulder to reassure you that she's content being this full. 

It takes a few deep breaths before she's ready for more, to get herself accustomed to having you so deep inside, before beginning to ride your cock with this tight, slick hole. All of this warmth around you, this ass, this tight little ass of hers feels like heaven, clenching around you. Minju can’t stop bouncing herself on you, ass smacking down on your thighs as she fucks your cock into her, impaling herself again and again.

"That's it, that's it—this big fucking dick. It's so deep.” Minju groans through ragged breaths, keeping the tempo until her hips move faster. She keeps riding, bouncing that tight little ass of hers, addicted to stretching that hot little hole wider as it accepts every single inch of you.

Your cock, her ass, there's no better combination. 

It's an amazing view, watching that asshole get stretched open, so wide around your shaft while her own hand wanders between her legs. This impossible tightness encourages you to thrust into her, drilling your cock, wanting to get in even deeper than humanly possible. 

You know that Minju can manage on her own, but your greed takes over as you lean her body back, hooking your arms under her knees, and pin them to her chest with your cock still inside her ass. Now it's her turn to let you take over, stretching her wider so she can really feel this deepness inside, opening her up in new unimaginable ways. 

The new angle offers much deeper thrusts, with you holding her weight, wrapping your arms behind her neck and slamming up into Minju with little regard for how wrecked she’ll get, balls deep with every drop of your hips against hers.

"Fuck, please—keep, oh shit!" Her voice sounds so fucked out, the delirium taking over her as your cock fills her, every last inch stuffed to the hilt. And the sounds Minju makes during this assault on her ass are unreal, deep whines ripped right out, fucking your entire length at the fastest pace you can into this tight asshole. 

"Your ass loves taking this fucking cock, doesn't it, Minmin?" You barely have it in you to speak at all, and all Minju can offer is another desperate whimper, unable to voice anything beyond swears at how full her tight hole is with your cock. 

"Please, god—don't fucking stop, don't you dare stop fucking my ass—"

This poor, helpless thing that you take your lust out on, legs spread obscenely wide in a v-shape position you've folded her in just pleads and cries for more. She’s unable to do much but take this pounding, and her mouth stays agape through your relentless thrusts, hammering into such a stretched, full, gaping hole.

Her flexibility comes in handy at times like these as she just lets you ruin her tight asshole without a care, feet helplessly dangling midair in the most pornographic display of carnal bliss, using her body to wring out every bit of pleasure. 

"Use me, oh my fucking god, please use my asshole until you fill it up."

As all those words spill out, there's no reason to fight it any longer as you fuck into Minju with reckless abandon, arms locking her in place to do as she asks, not daring to stop for any reason. With no end to your onslaught of violent thrusts, your balls begin to tighten, the start of an inevitable flood in her tight asshole. “So tight, fuck, gonna blow my fucking load right into your tight ass—“ 

Minju offers no response but her asshole clenching around your swollen shaft, urging you to release into her wrecked hole with everything you‘ve got, and nothing can stop this orgasm from building.

And with one last thrust, you can't hold back anymore. Buried deep, your release explodes into Minju, sending your seed shooting deep into her asshole as you fill her up to the brim with these endless spurts. Her desperate mewls escalate as her ass, this perfect, tight warmth milks your throbbing cock until your entire body shakes with pleasure, draining your entire heavy load into her tight little hole.

You savor this feeling, remaining balls deep into her ass, riding this high for as long as it’ll linger. You're breathless and panting when your grip eases, guiding Minju down as she topples onto her back, pressed up against your chest while your cock slips out of her ruined hole. Your thick seed oozes right out of that tight ass, dripping between her cheeks and leaking out onto your stomach, a beautiful mess of creamy white.

"Still had so much inside you," Minju gasps out, barely able to move a muscle after your merciless pounding. Her entire body stays limp on you, a satisfied wreck with cum still trickling out her ruined, gaped asshole. "I knew you would love my ass." 

“Best thing I’ve ever been inside in.” 

Neither of you has the will to move, staying like this just to catch a breath for a little bit longer, until she rolls off and shifts onto her side, tucking herself into your chest. Minju gives that smile of hers, the one where she's content that you enjoy her as much as you do. "I don't think I can walk out of here... "

"Then don't. You look good just where you are," you reply, glancing at Minju, who lets out a tired laugh at what an utter mess you both are. It's almost a guarantee that she’ll share your bed every night after you’ve made a mess inside her. She spends more nights with you than in her own bed, sleeping next to you, limbs tangled together under the covers. 

Other times, after a quickie before bed, Minju will keep you inside her, too tired to do anything but fall asleep in your arms with no urge to move an inch until the next day. It’s a nice tender moment through all this lust, the realization that she’s more than some mindless fuck whenever you need release. 

Maybe this arrangement has shifted into something more. 

And maybe you’ve really taken a liking to Minju. 

✦ ✦

“Yeah, it’s really nice here,” Minju says on the phone in her favorite pink pajamas during a video call from a friend. The TV plays low in the background as she gets comfortable all sprawled out on the couch, playing off the fact that she's been living at your place for nearly a month now. 

This temporary thing was supposed to be just that—Minju staying only until she could afford a place on her own, has now spiraled into something beyond that. Several weeks later, here she still is, wearing your oversized shirts to bed, shampoo and body wash occupying a lasting residence in your shower, and of course, her own toothbrush next to yours. 

And neither one of you is planning to change that.

Minju’s a near permanent addition to your household. While she's picked up some temp work to keep her bank account from reaching zero, you wouldn't exactly call her employed. Though that matters little; even if she doesn’t help out financially, she contributes in much better ways. 

"Hey! No, it’s not like that. No, I don’t, but I help cook, I clean, and I—“ Minju says in this exasperated tone when you join her on the couch. Cheeks growing red, she stays on the defensive, trying to starve off this teasing on the other end that you're attempting not to eavesdrop on.

"No, not like a maid. It's not—no, he isn't making me. Yuri-ya! I said we aren't together!” Minju almost forgets that you're sitting right next to her, remaining just as loud and whiny as she presses her knees into her chest, desperate to defend herself. 

Clearly, this isn’t a conversation you’re supposed to be a part of, so you should probably excuse yourself—but when you attempt just that, Minju pushes you back down with a bare foot from where you were rising, insisting you stay right where you are. 

"It isn't like that at all!" Minju pouts, and the camera captures every cute little flustered expression that makes her friend cackle. There isn't an ounce of persuasion behind those words as her friend shares in this same amusement with you, face growing more flustered by the second. Still, she remains steadfast to deny these accusations, holding you hostage to listen in by the pressure from her heel digging into your leg, pinning you there to hear these hearty giggles at Minju's expense.

You think you like this friend already. 

Minju is clearly more stubborn than she lets on when it comes to these matters, because Yuri refuses to back down. And well, if she wants you here, then you're more than willing to stick around—but you're not going to stay idle. 

"Okay, maybe once. But that was it. I swear," Minju defends, even if it's an obvious lie, and Yuri calls her bluff as her laughter continues from the other side. She's backed the poor girl into a corner, and you're somehow working together with this person that you've never met, all to make your mutual friend as bashful as she can possibly get. 

When Minju's bare feet land on your lap, it sparks an idea. Your thumb presses into the sensitive arch of her foot, massaging the targeted area with care, causing her eyes to plead not to escalate. 

"You've definitely hooked up more than once," Yuri insists, and you're unable to hide a smirk to see that you're on the same page. "There's no way it didn't happen again."

Minju’s got this ticklish spot that you once found by accident, and it’s so easy narrowing it down to send her into an uncontrollable giggle fit. The longer you linger over it, the more she tries to keep her mouth shut, eyes going wide as she panics when Yuri asks what's so funny. 

That's the opportunity for the killing blow as you press hard into the pads of her feet with both thumbs, overwhelming her as she struggles not to burst into laughter, which Yuri only sees as confirmation that she's right. 

"I knew it!" 

"S-seriously, nothing happened. Don't get the wrong idea…“

Minju’s never been a great liar, and it doesn’t help that she can’t hide her flustered reactions on screen. So rather than continue this drip feed of torture, you just spell the entire situation out for Yuri to understand—playing with the waistband of those cute pajamas, your intentions clear as day. 

“Hey, wait—the video is on!” Minju protests in disbelief as you threaten to yank her pants off her hips. But if she really doesn't want this, especially with Yuri there to watch, then all she has to do is say the word and you'll back off. 

"Then feel free to end the call…" 

But no, the truth is, Minju wants this.

Her eyes shift from Yuri back to you, a nervous look on her face—knowing exactly how this'll play out. All it would take is a second for the call to disconnect, one little goodbye, and you can do this privately. But when you work these pajama pants off past Minju’s hips, there's no such thing. Yuri remains right there on the call, watching on camera while you finish the job and strip your roommate below the waist, leaving her half-naked in the middle of this video call. 

There's a darker redness on her face, looking mortified to be exposed so easily in front of her unseen friend. She struggles for words, and you do the same to her upper half, unbuttoning her pajama shirt as you slowly peel it open, tossing it aside to leave this impeccable body entirely bare. 

With this display of her nude beauty, Minju stops any charade of denial the instant you slide a finger inside, and then a deep groan rolls from her lips at having your finger penetrate her in front of another person's eyes. 

"M-maybe it's happened more than a couple of times,” Minju admits, divulging this secret she no longer has the desire to hide. There's no point holding back, not when you're going to have her moaning on camera. 

"A lot more than that…" you say as you tease her tight entrance with another finger before your pants come off, hardness poking at your boxers until you toss them away as well.

"Hey!" Minju says as you spread open her gorgeous pussy with two fingers, exposing that warmth that's ready for you to sink into. "It's n-not a lot."

"Four times yesterday isn't a lot?" 

Minju just tries her best to not completely dissolve on camera at your immediate betrayal—but it’s not like she doesn’t want it either, as she guides the tip of your cock between the heat of her slit, teasing up and down before the inevitable push. 

“I knew it. Come on, no secrets," Yuri says on the other end as Minju lays there obscenely spread, already whining pathetically, when your throbbing cock demands to slip inside her warm, welcoming pussy. 

“Hey, if you’re going to watch—then no talking.” 

"Not another word,“ Yuri promises her, and that silence holds as you sink inside Minju, so deep and hot inside your roommate. 

A soft groan escapes from her the instant she's so deliciously stretched around your cock. With this additional pressure to perform for a new set of eyes, that makes the arousal much more palatable as you bury your full length into that slippery, wet warmth.

"Oh f-fuck, you feel so good," Minju whimpers, eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head. You can't help but bottom out in her cunt as she looks right into the camera, sharing this moment with Yuri who stays true to her word, not interrupting a second. 

All your initial strokes are anything but gentle, and Minju makes no attempt to keep any moans in that make it to the other side of the video call. It’s something so out of the ordinary, this girl that’s usually so timid, so reserved, watching her crumble underneath every deep pump, her folds absolutely dripping with honey to help guide the friction. 

Even so, it’s not quite enough. While this is all great and everything—it could be even better. You’re supposed to be giving Yuri a show, and you might as well give her a good one.

Minju has no complaints, only uninhibited deep moans when you lift her legs up, knees up right by her shoulders as you fold her up in such a vulgar display of her flexibility, plunging more of yourself to wreck this little hole. 

"So deep—fuck, I can feel you so deep in me,” she mutters out as she takes it all, barely able to hold her phone still in such a vulnerable position, utterly helpless while you're demolishing her tight little pussy with no mercy. You've done this to Minju more times than you can count, this perfect position designed to bottom her out in the easiest way possible—to fuck a massive load right into her pussy in no time. 

"It's so good, please, it's so fucking good—“ Minju becomes nothing more than a whimpering mess, head thrown back against the pillows as you keep pounding into her cunt, thrusting deeper in a rough, erratic pace that's more showing off than anything, and all she can do is keep taking it. 

It's just too easy to fuck Minju like a toy, especially when you've got a show to put on.

"Look at you taking me like this, Minju, oh my god," you groan, watching this warm little hole spread wider and wider around your throbbing cock as it disappears into her depths.

Her cunt feels tighter with each thrust, squeezing your shaft in a slick, unrelenting grip that brings you closer to the edge as she loses any semblance of decency. You don’t let up as she struggles to stay on camera, nearly dropping her phone while trying to hang on through all this ecstasy. 

“Keep going, oh fuck, keep pounding my fucking pussy,” Minju begs, and it's impossible to even focus with how deep her sloppy cunt swallows you back up inside. She lets out all these throaty, helpless moans from the animalistic fucking she's taking, perky tits bouncing from the force of you bottoming her out in front of her friend. 

And again, Yuri plays her part by being a viewer and nothing else. 

Minju, this wet little toy, lets you hammer into her cunt without remorse, and each impact of your heated bodies sends her jolting against the cushions, turning into such a lewd metronome. 

You're close, already so close—all thanks to those eyes of hers, filled with a desperate need to have you shoot your hot cum deep where it belongs. "I'm gonna fucking breed you, Minju—fuck, gonna dump this thick fucking load right in your cunt.”

Minju lets out a long moan of approval, equally on edge from having your shaft thrust right into her slick depths, ready for your balls to empty and pump her full of all your seed. 

“Give me that load, don’t cum anywhere but inside—“ That’s the last thing Minju says before this unavoidable release, face red from being so vulnerable on camera while her legs dangle up in the air, toes curling with every rough pump. 

You're so worked up that it doesn't take anything else but burying your cock into her sopping cunt one final time before you burst, unloading everything your balls have stored up. Your release triggers her own, that peak making her legs tremble in the air, writhing underneath your weight. Both of you let out a collective moan that competes in volume as your combined release gets milked into her womb, spurt after spurt until there's nothing left to empty inside of your roommate. 

Shallow thrusts drag out the pleasure, making sure not a drop of your load isn’t fully deposited inside Minju’s sticky folds until you stay there buried to the hilt. 

While you both pause to catch your breath, there's an unfamiliar satisfied moan of pleasure that you realize comes from Yuri on the other side of the phone call.

“F-fuck,” Minju breathes out, while you still have every inch throbbing inside her delicious warmth. ”Yuri, did you really just get off to this?"

"What? No, of course not," Yuri says, an unconvincing denial of a lie. "Maybe. Did you really expect me not to?"

Minju smiles as best as she can. "I can't blame you. God, there's just so much cum—he dumped his whole load inside me…" she says in smug satisfaction when you reluctantly pull out. 

Her poor little cunt is a wreck, all soaked in her own arousal and yours, this hot load eagerly dripping out onto the couch cushions while just laying there spread in such an obscene way, phone still in her hand, held out to display every detail.

Yuri doesn’t quite know what to say when she sees her friend like this, Minju the innocent angel being fucked absolutely senseless on camera, with a thick, creamy mess that oozes out between her legs.

"So, maybe we've done this a lot," Minju finally confesses to Yuri, who still struggles to respond to all this despite witnessing it moments ago. 

"Maybe?" Yuri replies. 

"Don't act all innocent now." Minju shifts her position on the couch to get a better angle, so the camera can get a good shot of the sticky semen running down her cunt. "You got off to it."

"Maybe. A little bit," Yuri admits, with a low voice shaky in response. "So what if I did?" 

“And maybe I jerk him off when I'm on the phone with you..." 

"Minju!"

With a hand covering her mouth, Minju laughs, unable to hold in her amusement. “You don't have to sound so ashamed. It's just you."

“That doesn't mean I need to hear this!" Yuri responds, the embarrassment coming through in her voice. "Oh my god, I can't believe I was talking to you like normal—while you were doing that? Ah, Minju!"

Minju's smile transforms into a devilish grin, enjoying every second of this like she’s earning revenge for Yuri’s earlier teasing. 

“Doing what, Yuri?"

“I—need to go, talk to you later, Minju!" Yuri stammers out, her cheeks brighter than a tomato. The video call immediately ends, with only Minju's soft laughter remaining in response. Looking at the end call icon on her phone for a moment, Minju sets it to the side on the coffee table, then lays her head back into the pillows.

“It's just you and me again," Minju says in her sweet voice, almost like she’s not the least bit exhausted after the rigorous fucking you've put her through. “What now?"

"Maybe we should clean this couch..." you answer, aware of the mess you and Minju have created all over her legs and the fabric, something that certainly can't be ignored.

"Later," Minju says, as if she could even care about that—at least for now. "Right now I need a shower. A nice long, hot one. Come join me. It's not fun washing off all by myself..."

Yet once again, neither of you make it to the shower. 

You follow her right into her bedroom, into the bedsheets that are still warm from earlier today. She doesn't have a chance to clean herself up, still dripping down her thighs when she pins you down into those same bedsheets and has you deep inside her in no time.

“Round two,” Minju says, as if it's not even a question, like this is how it’s going to go for the rest of the night.

“Minmin—wait. Give a guy a moment, fuck."

"No time to rest," she says, with another wicked grin on her face, and you're not used to being on the other end of this. You're the one that keeps the ecstasy going, the one that always makes the first move. This girl, she’s never been so forward like this before, not in the way she takes complete control, so shameless to get what she wants. Certainly not in the way that she grabs your arms and pins your wrists over your head with strength that you didn't realize she was capable of.

"I see why you like using me so much." 

Minju holds you down so tight that you can't even fight this. You're at her mercy now, pinned right under her in this vulnerable state with the weight of her body pressing into you while you can't help but feel like you’re the one who’s a little plaything.

And honestly, you like it.

"I get it now,” Minju purrs while you stay right under her control, a finger caressing the outline of your jaw. She has you helpless, completely trapped by this lust that's making you ache for more of what Minju's offering. "You know, I found a job. One of my friends recommended me, Hyewon. I think you’ve met her before. And it pays well. I'll be able to finally support myself. But you'll let me still stay here, won't you?" 

"Of course, Minju. You know I wouldn't—"

"Good," she says, cutting you off as if there's not any chance of rejection. "But I won't be around in the afternoon like before." 

Minju trails a finger right down the center of your chest, tracing circles along your abdomen. "So that means I'm going to need my fix every morning. And maybe even before I go to work, when I come to wake you up for me."

You've never seen Minju like this, so brazen with her desires as she tilts your chin up and makes you face her directly. 

"And as soon as I get home, I'm just going to jump on your cock for hours, until your balls overflow my little pussy again and again. How does that sound?"

"That—that sounds—"

"Great. It's settled then." Minju gives you the cutest smile as she kisses her way down your neck, lips lingering around your collarbone as she nibbles gently on the skin, leaving her mark. 

"Maybe it's a lot of fun being used by you. But maybe it's even better to use you, right?"

Biting her lip, she slides off your shaft that's still glistening in the mix of her mess and yours, leaving it throbbing in the air. "Oh my god, your poor cock. So fucking hard. And there's nothing you can do about it, huh? It must be torture for you. All this build up inside and nothing to take it out on."

"Minmin—"

"Now I understand—it’s so much fun to fuck you like a toy," Minju interrupts, right as she slaps your cock with her palm to watch you wince in response from how sensitive you are, doing it over and over again, these utterly relentless smacks that make every part of you quiver. 

"What's the matter? Don't wanna cum again?" 

Without waiting for a response, she slams back down on you, taking you to the hilt in one easy, fluid motion that doesn't leave you without her warmth for long. Even as spent as you are, Minju rides this aching cock of yours like it's the first time you've been inside her today.

"You’ve got my greedy little cunt addicted. I can't live without you filling me with this hot cum every single day. How many more times can I get you to breed me today? Three? Four? Maybe five?"

"Jesus, Minmin, please—" You groan at the thought. As much as you love finishing inside Minju, there's no way you'll be able to survive that—you're exhausted after this round and your body hasn’t gotten anywhere close to recovering. But she just carelessly continues, head thrown back in bliss as she fucks herself on you, spreading her walls that still drip with your load, and yet so needy to have another thick one fill her up to the brim once more.

"I can't wait to find out. You're not going to run out of cum, are you? No, I don't think your balls could do that. They're always so full, just for me, right? Maybe we'll have to keep going until we make sure."

You don't think your poor cock can stand that, but there's nothing to do but watch helplessly while Minju bounces on top of you, using you as nothing more than a toy—a nice hard cock that she can just ride into ecstasy over and over again.

And maybe you'll allow her to do just that.

---

No, I didn't finish writing this fic the day before realizing her birthday, shut up, this was definitely planned all along.

#BreedMinju

[burning-omen]

Happy (Belated) Halloween!

Jason Todd x Demon!male!reader

(A/n: I'm tired, I've been getting argued at and pulled into fights that have nothing to do with me from the time I woke up- had a bunch of chores and shit to do and the fucking grocery store was packed and people keep bumping into me and all the fucking prices went way up since the last time I was there less than a month ago- I'm thoroughly overstimulated and getting home to edit and rewrite certain parts of this shitty little fic was a probably the best part of my day.)

Warning: crack fic kinda, blood, Demon!reader, murder, mutilation, and gore, summoning gone right technically, reader has TWO dicks, size difference, overstimulation, masochism, probably misspellings idk I'm not reading it again that's your job, dom/sub, ownership marking, sacrifice (rip that guy, ive been calling him marvin in my head), going missing for a lil while (consensually), OOC jason todd but this is literally porn who cares

word count: 1981 (short, i know, shut up/j)

Halloween parties were the worst. If the loud, drunk, half-naked crowd wasn’t enough to convince Jason, walking in on an honest to god seance was.

Being dragged to a party by Dick, only to lose him in the crowd of people within the first few minutes. He just wanted some quiet- and under the guise of looking for how brother he managed to avoid nearly every conversation that came his way- except for some incomprehensible drunk girl who insisted on holding a conversation with his even though she sounded like she was under water every time she opened her mouth.

He eventually managed to escape from her, finding the nearest room to recuperate in, only to be greeted by a room of chanting, drunk party-goers, kneeling around a shakily drawn yet intricate summoning circle. The chant was Latin- super old Latin- and Jason really wanted no part in this. He knew that demons were real, he knew a lot of shit that was supposedly fake was real- he had Batman to thank for that. So, after standing in the room for about 30 seconds, he decided to leave.

Turning on his heel, not saying a word to whatever party cult he just walked in on- deadset on leaving when he heard choking, and gasps from the mini cult as they clamored around the chanter who had suddenly collapsed.

Taking in a deep breath, cursing Bruce and the unwavering need to help he instilled in all of his children, before turning back to the group.

Laying, choking in the middle of the circle was a young man-

‘He’s drunk,’ Jason thought, pushing through the group surrounding him, their concern was nice- but unhelpful ‘probably choked on his tongue.’

Tilting his head back, the choking became louder- tears streamed down his face, his mouth agape as he clawed at his throat- his eyes desperate and afraid.

“It’s okay,” Jason tried, but he wasn’t exactly known for his bedside manner. “Just let me look.”

He peered down the man's throat- his tongue was wear it was supposed to be, but blood still filled the man’s mouth. Clearly whatever was happening here was internal, there's nothing Jason could do for him. Before he could ask anyone to call an ambulance- he saw something move at the very back of his throat. Even through the pooling blood, he could tell something wasn’t right- what the hell did he swallow?

His neck bulged as something made its way up- that was good- maybe. Slowly pushing up- whatever it was- caused the man to cry out in pain. He coughed and sputtered as it moved up and up until it pushed past the muscles of his throat and out of his mouth. A hand, clawed- drenched in blood, moving with so much force that a crack sounded through the room as more and more of the form inside him- whatever it was- came out. Breaking his jaw to finally reach out and grab his face- he cried out as pain and panic filled him- he turned to Jason for help as his friends fled but there wasn’t anything Jason could do but sit there in horror as an arm lifted from his broken and mutilated face- he cheeks tearing in as his mouth opened to unnatural length.

The bloody arm clawed at the floor, sharp talon like nails leaving deep wounds in the wood. Jason backed away- fear as well as guilt taking over. The basic instinct that anyone who had even taken the moniker “Robin” knew took over soon after, he needs to call batman- he couldn’t handle whatever this is, not on his own. He reached for his phone right as the candle lit room suddenly went dark. Jason, usually so strong and sure, didn’t know what to do. His communicator clattered to the floor as he stood.

He swore quietly- backing up until he was pressed against the wall- the sound of flesh tearing filled the room- still hot blood splattered across his face.

A soft growl came from the dark, deep and steady and growing closer by the second. Then,as if they had never been out, the candles were re-lit.

A massive beastly thing stood above him, horned and winged- a long tail trailing behind it. Soaked in the blood of the man that was scattered in chunks around the room. Despite knowing that he should definitely be afraid, a man had been ripped from the inside out right in front of him, something somewhere in his mind was saying, “would”. The thought immediately made him cringe at himself- he could not survive that- not only were you massive, you were also very naked. With not one but two just as massive, heavy cocks resting between your legs. He’d die, simply put, torn in half Terrifier style.

“Scared, human?” You asked, voice just as inhuman as your form.

Suddenly unable to find his words, Jason shook his head.

The action made you purr- something was so wrong with this man, not running or screaming, but instead sitting before you, his eyes wandering over your body, face reddened as his heart pounded in his chest.

He didn’t even attempt to move when you reached for him, his breath caught in his throat, but he remained perfectly still as you stroked his hair, then ran the backside of your claws down his cheek. All the way down to his chest, pressing just the tip of your claw in, watching as his shirt quickly became stained with blood.

“Not scared? How brave of you, human. “ You mused, “I require sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” he barely managed.

Trailing your claw lower and lower until the point of it rested over the growing bulge in his pants.

“A sacrifice of life is usually offered.” You pressed down, “But, another kind of offering will suffice.”

Jason breathed out- he can’t. Mentally, he could- he’s done all kinds of weird shit, fucking a demon wouldn’t even come close to the worse things he done- it doesn’t even reach top ten with the rest of his family’s track record for weird shit. But physically, that would kill him. One alone would shatter his pelvis and probably paralyze him- two would just straight up kill him. And you really didn’t seem like the kind of demon to go half way- you did come all the way from hell after all.

The obvious thing to do was to say no and call a fucking exorcist- but Jason didn’t do that, instead he speaks, so sure and steady as he spoke-

“Can you shrink?”

The entirety of your form became, your horns no longer scraped the ceiling, but you were still massive above Jason. You didn’t make it easy for him- pressing him into the floor with one clawed hand gripping his hair tightly, knees pressed into the hard wood and legs spread wide open, his cock- which you decided needed to remain untouched for the “sacrifice” to be valid.

Labored breathing, gasping and all encompassing sobs filled the room as both of your cock stretched him to the limit every time you thrusted into him- his nearly blunt nails leaving marks in the wooden floor below him.

With his mouth hanging wide open- he begged- muttering a broken “Please-’’ between moans-

You leaned down, pulling him up by his hair- resting inside him before speaking.

“You want more, human?”

Eyes brimmed with tears, feeling far fuller than felt natural- but so good and warm at the exact same time- deep in his stomach all the down to the very tips of his toes, every nerve so very alive.

He nods, shortly and without hesitation.

You grip on his hair loosens, and he sighs in relief as the burning pain in his scalp stops.

Only to flair up in his hips as you dig your claws into them, literally. Piercing through skin and drawing blood that slid over his skin and pooled beneath him on the floor. Jason, ever the masochist, only gets louder. With the party outside still raging on, you're sure the sound blended into the background- and any attendee lucky enough to have heard the high, whiny moans was listening far too hard.

Thrusting became painful, hard slamming- both cocks abusing his prostate with unnatural accuracy. Pulling out until the tips of your cock were just barely inside of him- then pressing back in so hard his entire body was pushed forward.

Jason’s mind was loud and incoherent - incomplete thoughts running through his head, cut short by either pain or pleasure every single time.

His body spammed unwillingly, muscles tightening and releasing, his hole tightened around you in an attempt to suck you in more- even if more would cause so so many problems for the man.

“So greedy,” you hummed in his ear, and you take cock so well.”

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t, overwhelmed and obsessed with the feeling. His orgasm- the first of many snuck up on him, his body overstimulated and oversensitive as hot, white cum shot straight onto the floor.

He gasped for air as though he’d been held under water- his body burned as he clenched around you- pleasure gone- replaced by what could only be described as fire destroying him from the inside out. He cried out in pain, his body writhes and contorts- and yet he never asks you to stop.

You grinned, “so cute, I might just have to keep you, human.”

You weren’t far behind him, cum seeping from both of your tips as you buried yourself deep inside him- it only added to the burning. Filling him so much until his hole, still plugged with your cock, leaks it back out. Down his legs and onto the floor, mixing with his own puddle of cum. You watched him for a long moment, letting him grit his teeth and cry at the pain, before showing your newest pet a bit of mercy and pulling out.

His body slouched onto the floor the moment you leg go. Jason was on the verge of passing out, eyes barely open, covered in blood, sweat, and cum. He has a high pain tolerance and his stamina was through the roof- but fucking hell he was so tired, and everything hurt, from his over used knees, to his damn near broken hole, and the small wounds your claws had made- coupled with an over bearing overstimulation making everything ten times worse- Jason, without question, was never doing this again.

—--- A couple weeks later—---

Dick realized that Jason wasn’t a party person, but for him to just disappear (and possibly kill someone at the party??? What the hell Jay???) for weeks seemed to be a bit of an overreaction.

But when he walked into the manor, happy as can be, after just being gone for three weeks, Dick knew something was very wrong- or very unusual- was happening.

“I had a date.” Was Jason’s only response, as he leaned heavily against the back of a chair, but never actually sat down in it.

“A date?!” Dick is so glad he questioned him in private. “With who?”

Jason shrugged, “met a guy at the party.”

“Jason you just dropped off of the face of the Earth with some guy for nearly a month?!”

Dick didn’t realize how literal that was- Hell has some pretty nice residential areas, it turns out.

“I was having fun.”

Jason, of course, was never going to tell Dick what he has really been doing- or what he will continue to be doing for the foreseeable future- but it was fun watching him freak out at every vague answer he gave.

The mark (brand?? Tattoo??) on his back still felt weird, sensitive from its spot hidden under his clothes, but how else would other demon, humans, and every other sentient being know that he was yours.

(a/n 2: AND I KNOW ITS LATE BUT I STILL FINISHED IT WITHIN A REASONABLE TIME SO EVERYBODY SHUT UP/j)

[melrodrigo]

on your knees - c.s.

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s day and Cairo really needs a date.

Word Count: idk i’ll fill it later

A/N: Hiii, here to feed my babies. Beware the last few parts because i did nawt proofread this. Will come back to edit it eventually! Thanks for all the love

“Come onnnnn, go on a date with me?” The girl in front of you practically begs, leaning forward till her whole body is pressed up to the front of your desk.

“Very funny.” You tell her, dryly.

Cairo’s been whining all week about not having a valentine’s date, but you don’t know why she specifically chooses to whine to you about it. After all, you had heard from around school she had a crush on Mr.Miller.

Your nose crinkles in disgust at the thought. Their coupling would be wild at best, and illegal (not to mention boring) at worst. It would be like seeing Einstein and an Instagram model holding hands. Except Mr. Miller wasn’t Einstein, he was Henry Miller. A spectacularly boring middle aged white guy.

To be completely transparent, you wouldn’t have minded going on a date with Cairo. Since, truth be told, you might’ve had a (tiny) crush on her.

You let your mind wander, think of what it would be like to take her out. The perfect date.

She loves nature, so it would be outdoors for sure. She doesn’t love extravagant gestures, you’d probably make her a little picnic. Your train of thought is cut short by the evil voice that tells you she could be fantasizing about a certain professor on your imaginary date.

Cairo breaks your daydreaming by falling to her knees beside your chair, hitting the carpet with a loud thud.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly grab her shoulders and try to push her up, but she refuses. For such a small girl, she sure had a lot of strength.

“What do you want me to do, beg? I can beg.” She tells you, still on her knees, dress pooling atop the rug.

You’re ashamed to admit the position has a bit of an effect on you. But who could blame you? Anyone would be flustered if Cairo Sweet was looking up at them like that…

It’s a little awe inspiring, seeing Cairo so, desperate. You’re not sure what’s brought this all on, but the cold cut Cairo you once knew has disappeared completely from the equation.

“Cairo.” You hiss, eyes darting between the door and the girl in front of you, praying that no one comes in.

“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” She whines again, reaching for your shirt cuffs for something to hang onto.

There’s a swoosh and a quiet “oh!” that brings your attention back to the door.

Mr. Miller.

He stands somewhat awkwardly, smiling the type of smile that somehow indicates he’s unhappy. His eyes narrow when he notices it’s Cairo on the floor, his beloved teacher’s pet.

Okay, now you really need Cairo to get up. You support (force) her up and onto half of your chair, reprimanding her quietly as Miller walks past, coughing.

She straightens only slightly before settling once again on your lap, claiming it’s more comfortable and “a more suitable place for her to focus on her studies”.

“Why don’t you just sit at your desk, hm?” You point at the table, a single chair, smack dab in the middle of the classroom, in front of Mr.Miller. She was such a nerd.

She stares back at you blankly, big brown eyes making you a little distracted.

“That’s not mine.” She says, and you breathe out a laugh. The tension breaks. Her eyes crinkle lightly at the sound.

“You’re so weird.” You mumble, but allow her to sit further into your lap, no doubt much more comfy than her previous position.

“Can I sit here the rest of the class?” She asks, a little bashfully. You give her a pointed look, but nod nonetheless.

“Whatever you want.” You tell her, and she seems happy with that, taking her laptop and notebook out, ready to learn.

You see her lock eyes with Mr. Miller, who looks very confused. She smiles shyly and breaks the contact by nudging herself into the crook of your neck.

Oh.

Maybe all this was just to make Mr.Miller jealous.

You frown at the disturbing thought. Cairo’s breath tingles your skin as she tilts her head up so her lips are right beside your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, quite unwillingly.

“Now will you go on a date with me?” She whispers, huskily. Her confidence has returned, cocky like the Cairo you know so well.

You weigh your options.

You do really want her to get away from Mr.Miller…it might be a good time to slap some sense into the young girl.

“Alright.” You say curtly, already regretting your decision.

Cairo removes herself from your neck, smiling wide. For a second it quells your anxieties, her milky white pearls blinding.

She turns back as more students start filing in, ready yet again to learn.

You can’t focus for the duration of the class, mind wandering. Valentine’s day was tomorrow, what were you going to say? What were you going to do?

You stay quiet until class ends and all the way while you walk her back to her home. Cairo pokes at you a couple times to try and get you out of your head.

“Don’t forget flowers!” Cairo teasingly yells from ahead of you, already one foot into her house. You straighten up, dumbly answer with a “You got it!” and a face palm once she’s out of sight.

-

Okay. This was it. Last night was spent toiling on your bed, writing a script of what you’ll tell Cairo, prepared lillies- her favorite flowers, and a batch of the best things you could possibly find in your fridge.

Bread, butter, freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and two slices of turkey left, you’re all ready and set.

The script is tucked away into the back pocket of your jeans, snug and cozy. It radiates warmth that makes you think it’d be terribly rude to ever take it out.

You sit down onto the grass, arms on both sides straightened, palms rubbing uncomfortably with the tablecloth.

“I shouldn’t be this nervous.” You remind yourself, but it does almost nothing to quell your worries.

You can’t keep lying to yourself, the truth swims in your head and you’re afraid it’s going to leave your lips the second Cairo arrives. You aren’t nervous about the letter, or anything to do with Mr.Miller. In fact, you’re nervous about the date.

A tiny part of you, no matter how much you try and shun it away, hopes that, maybe, just maybe, if Cairo liked this date, she might start liking you.

The minutes count themselves down too fast, and it’s almost time. You sit straighter, checking your shirt for any wrinkles.

You see a tiny figure make it’s way onto the lawn, and you have to bite back a smile when you realize it’s Cairo.

She looks almost shy as she walks up to you, twiddling with her thumbs.

It’s like a wave washes over you when you finally see her up close. She’s wearing a gray turtleneck, with a denim jacket over it, hair all nice and wavy. She looks unbelievably good.

It takes a second for you to grab your bearings and act like you weren’t just blatantly staring at her.

“You look beautiful.” You say, as casual as you can muster, and Cairo breaks out into a smile. You notice she’s wearing water liner, and it makes your knees feel like jelly. She’s only ever done makeup like this once, during your school dance, and it had all but made you swoon.

“Yeah?” She muses, mindlessly. Bending down and sitting on your makeshift picnic cloth.

“Yeah.” You breathe, even though you can tell she didn’t really need an answer to that. She reaches for your face, pushing a stray hair back.

“You look good too.” Is what she comments, all soft like.

You’re a little ashamed to admit you dressed up particularly for this occasion. Some rosy pink blush, your favorite lipstick just for her.

You cough awkwardly, and it breaks you both out of your trance. You reach for the food and serve her her plate.

You get a good while into talking and laughing that you bring up Mr. Miller.

“So…do you have your eye on anybody right now?” You ask nonchalantly, pretending like you haven’t mapped this whole conversation out in your head a million times.

Something flashes in her eyes but it disappears so quick you can’t tell what it is.

“You know you can tell me anything,right?” You tell her, and you mean it. Whatever or whoever it was, you’d be fine with it. You wouldn’t just stop being friends with her because of complicated feelings. She mattered more to you than that.

She bites her lip, then speaks quick, like she has to get it out before she overthinks too much.

“Yeah I am interested in someone. In this school, actually.” She says.

You feel your heart drop to your ass, you’d hoped against hope that the rumor wasn’t true- but with this new information, it had to be.

So much for ‘being okay with anything.’ That’s it. It’s over for me.

“Oh?” You try and ask, but it comes out as a little squeak. Cairo shoots you a weird look, but continues telling you about it.

“Yeah…I really like her. I just, I don’t know if I should pursue it.” She purses her lips.

Now it’s really time for your heart to flip. Her? Did she say ‘her?’

“Yeah, I did.” She confirms, small smirk playing on her crimson lips.

“Shit, did I say that out loud?” You ask her, cheeks heating up immediately. She gives you a quick nod.

Oh god.

“You like a girl?” You ask again, disbelieving.

This time she huffs, sounding almost impatient.

“Yes, I like a girl.” She says, exasperated, with a bit of bite in her tone. Something defensive and possibly jealous stirs up in you fast and quick. Why does she look annoyed?

You can’t help but answer in the same way.

“Okay, so who is it that you like so much?” You ask pointedly. The fire in her eyes that was there just moments before simmers, and just like that, she reverts back to her normal self. It’s almost concerning how she does it so quick, like the flip of a switch.

She suddenly looks nervous again. You give her a small encouraging nod, take her hand in yours as support. They tremble slightly.

“I like you. And I know you probably-” She continues but all you can hear are the echos of her first statement.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

I like you.

You retract from her hands, surprised beyond belief. You regret it immediately when her smile drops.

Her mouth is moving rapidly, and you use the best of your abilities to try and hear what she’s saying.

“I mean why do you think I even begged you on this date? I swear your head is so thick-“ Her words pass through your ears in intervals, and finally, after she’s done, and looking at you expectedly, all you can do is croak out a weak, “You don’t have a crush on Mr. Miller?”

Cairo blinks once, twice.

“What?” But there’s no fear or judgement or any hint of any emotion except disbelief.

Huh, so she didn’t know about the rumor.

“Who said I have a crush on Mr.Miller?” She asks, nose scrunching in disgust. You sigh, looking up to the sky and thanking god.

At this revelation, you’re elated. You scooch just a tad closer and tell her about the rumor. When you’re done, you expect someone shocked, or weirded out, but all she does is letout a hefty laugh.

“God, just because I like a class doesn’t mean I want to fuck the teacher.” She smiles, and you marvel in the way she’s able to shake it off so easy. She’s always been like that, carefree.

You let your mind wander to what she said before. She turns her head to look at the scenery, allowing you guys to sit in comfortable silence.

You say her name, a simple sound, but it makes her look up into your eyes, curious.

“Did you really mean what you said? You like me?” You ask, soft.

She gives an adamant nod, assuring she really does. God, you could not focus right now. She looks so pretty.

“I like you too. Like, a lot.” You breathe, and watch as her eyes sparkle.

“Really?” She blinks, in a state of vulnerability you’ve never seen. You can’t believe that she wouldn’t believe it. You give her the same nod, grin breaking out on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your lips.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted- you can’t even speak.

Her kiss isn’t what you’ve always imagined. Something soft, something gentle. That’s how it always was with the first kiss. You should’ve guessed long ago Cairo wasn’t just anyone.

She surges in, grabbing your face tight like if she lets go you’ll disintegrate. She’s so rough, and you can’t get enough of it. She climbs over your body and settles in your lap, grabbing the collar of your shirt to deepen the kiss.

You break away when it gets too much, both of you panting. Her cheeks are now another shade of pink you can be proud of causing; her hair messed up in a way that makes you want to grab her and kiss her again. And so you do.

You guys stay like that, laughing and talking and kissing till it’s dark out.

“It’s a good thing I forced you on this date, isn’t it?” She muses, rolling in your arms.

You giggle, high from the endorphins.

“You didn’t force me, it was a two person thing.” You try and justify, hoping she doesn’t think you didn’t want the date.

“It’s sweet of you to say that, but we both know you would’ve never asked me out.” She tells you, booping her nose against yours.

“Oh shut up.” And you take her lips in another kiss before she can retort.

[sucodelaranja86]

U ate the jealous! Cho Hyun-Ju request up fr!! Especially the suggestive part lmaoo I love it

Do u think we could get a Hyun-Ju x reader where we suffer a knee injury during one of the games which we try to keep quiet about until one of the other players (maybe young-mi) notices n tries to help us out w it which catches the attention of Hyun-Ju who gets upset n scolds us but were to stubborn to listen n wave her worries off until our injury hurts more n we begrudgingly go to her for help?

- don't hide it from me : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

summary: you suffered a knee injury in the middle of the game, but you were too stubborn to tell her.

warnings: slight angst.

A/N: i am taking too long to write more fics, i'm sorry 😭 also, as every single squid game work i do, young-mi lives 😋

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

‣ as you walk out of the second game field amongside your previous group, your heart was still racing from the horrifying experience while you made your way back to the giant dormitory, the peaceful silence of the place creating a harsh contrast to the tense atmosphere you had just left behind. The weight of what was happening began to settle as you sat down once again in the staircase. You haven't expected being put on such a deadly game, and the gravity of the situation made itself clear to you at each passing moment.

‣ but you couldn't deny that what shocked you even more was to find your partner here. One of the only connections you had in the outside world was also put in this messed up game. And judging by the reaction she had when she first saw you, it seemed the feeling was also mutual on her part.

‣ she saw you first in the "green light, red light" game, you were surprised as you felt a familiar grip on you, pushing you in a panicked manner behind her. And in the six-legs game, you stood by her side, hugging her arm close to you.

‣ you 5 were the second group to play and the first one to pass, meaning the dormitory would be empty and silent until the following groups finished their turns. The young man settled in his bed with a loud sigh, laying relaxedly with his mother who also had a similar relieved expression on her face. Hyun-ju sat alone in her bed, a thoughtful expression on her face, while the short, timid girl never left your side. As she sat down next to you, she hugged your arm excitedly.

‣ ― we- we did it! ― young-mi stuttered happily. As she finished saying that, she elbowed you playfully, but what she didn't expect was to see you flinch painfully while hissing. Her expression quickly turned into one of concern, straighten her posture as she looked at you worriedly.

‣ ― [name]? What is it? A-are you alright? ― she mumbled, putting one shaky hand on your back. You looked at her, sensing her worry. ― i'm alright. I just- i think i just gave a bad turn and injured my knee. ― you confessed. Young-mi anxiously looked around, trying to figure out what she should do. She remembered what you said earlier- that you knew Hyun-ju before entering here. And that was the first solution that came into her mind.

‣ The short-haired girl then shakily got up, not taking her hands and gaze away from you, ― i-i'm going to get unnie- she must know what to do- ― you quickly interrupted her sentence with a desperate grunt, holding the girl's wrist for dear life.

‣ ―no- don't. Please. ― even if your voice held a stern tone, you almost begged. Ever since the beginning of this game, you could notice something was wrong with Hyun-ju. At the end of the first game, you two swore to go back home- except she didn't follow that promise, ashamedly clicking on the blue 'O' button. And now, it didn't seem her opinion would change, you could see through her. You know how big of an opportunity this was to change to change both of your lives, and mostly how big of a step it would be to help with her transition. As much as she was ashamed to admit to you, and only you- she couldn't leave this early in the game.

‣ and you didn't want to worry her.

‣ hearing your determined tone, the girl silently nodded, quietly going back to her spot. ― but... Please, treat this as soon as you can. Being injured in a place like this is no good. ― she advised apprehensively. You nodded softly, wanting nothing more than to reassure her that you could manage.

-

‣ you held your pained grunts as you tried to massage your knee without waking up anyone. As the lights turned off, you rapidly pulled your pants up to try to access the situation your injury was. Now finally having time to take a better look at it, even in the dark, you could see how purple and bruised it looked. You had no experience in this field, but tried your best to make the aching pain go away with the little knowledge you had.

‣ you let out a shocked gasp as you felt a strong hand on your shoulder, backing off just to quickly stop due to the throbbing pain. As you fearfully turned your head around, you were met with the stoic face of no one other than Hyun-ju. Her face was turned down as she nonchalantly sat on your bed.

‣ she grabbed your wrists and easily took them off of your knee, earning an agonizing hiss from you. You looked at her, a confused expression on your face as you tried to find the right words to express your thoughts. ― how... How did you know i- ―

‣ ― young-mi. ― she answered shortly, cutting you off without further explanation. Well, it's not like you needed it. She replaced your hands with hers on where they where previously, massaging your knee with a more strong and experienced grip.

‣ after a short period of silence, she continued. ― you should have told me. You can't be this reckless. ― she stated in a low and frustated tone, not letting place for any discussion.

‣ you could only sigh as you allowed her treat you, the pain gradually subsiding. As she finished, you continued looking down ashamedly without muttering a word. As if on cue to act, you received an unasked, but welcomed kiss to your lips, the tense atmosphere quickly shattering down. You looked up to see the previous stern expression on her face gone, replaced by a more soft and caring one.

‣ ― please, don't hesitate to tell me if something happens. I wouldn't live down if anything happened to you. ― she muttered while looking lovingly into your eyes.

‣ you nodded softly while guiding her to lay down with you on your bed, taking care to not injure your knee further. She wrapped her arms around you, laying your face on her chest. As you both settled in, you felt yourself falling asleep quickly. The fatigue creeping up as you snuggled yourself further into her.

‣ young-mi, you snitch.

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed 3

Part: 1 2 4

“Lady Y/n please settle down. You’ll make yourself sick if you-” Mori paused hearing the lullaby playing throughout the sound of the Hospital. You turned to Wasuke he didn’t look to please, he sat arms crossed over his chest staring blankly at the floor, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

“Well, he’s alive.”

You waited eagerly until a nurse came to guide you all in, over time you wormed your way into the Itadori’s life making a point to become good friends with Kaori and Jin in the brief time before her due date. You know one thing you’d never trust her, Kenjaku to be exact, which is why it surprised you when she asked Jin if they could assign you as a God Mother if anything happened. Jin suggested maybe after Wasuke, you didn’t have a problem saying you were a neighbor if they ever needed you, you were next door.

Walking in the room you rushed over to Kaori seeing your son, except in this life he lacked the little marking on his forehead that matched his dad perfectly, but he was crying painfully loud. “Oh Kaori he’s precious, a little crying prince.” You tried to laugh it off before you squeezed her in a hug and she smiled “My little Yuji.��� She tried to rock him Your heart skipped when he let out a loud cry hands shaking face reddening, you smiled at her with a loss of air “Yuji?”

She nodded at your question explaining it was a decision made for them. It didn’t feel right to name him anything else, you smiled and looked at his little round face, “hold him, you’ll be in his life as long as your around. Maybe he’ll calm down.”

She tried to offer Yuji, you hesitated looking at Wasuke and Jin, they were talking. You looked at Kaori, she smiled weakly and you nodded, as soon as you placed his head on your chest he feel into place the way he had once. Your teary eyes mixed with how quiet and calm he became when his little fist took hold of your shirt called attention. “Look at that.” Wasuke say elbowing Jin.

You smiled at Yuji’s little scrunched up face before turning to smile at Kaori, she smiled at you while trying to move around in the hospital bed, “He’ll be lucky to have you in his life, it seems like he likes you already.”

You spent the day with Kaori in the hospital when Jin and Wasuke left to bring her some take out and get a few things ready. You were sat by her bed holding Yuji who took hold of your finger, he was holding for life, you moved him around seeing that star mark of your binding vow. You looked over at Kaori, she was smiling but looked tired, “Take care of him y/n, if anything happens make sure he knows what it’s like to have a loving mother.” With a soft laugh you nodded, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re going to both be fine. You’ll get up, take him home and have a happy little family.” Your smile would’ve been reassuring if it actually reached your eyes, but your eyes held the trace of faint tears. Tears of the memory when Yuji was Born screaming, when Sukuna was so proud to see his boy being held up to show he was the first heir. The tight grip he held on Sukuna’s finger, the way Yuji was quick to nuzzle into your chest and not let go. How Sukuna didn’t leave your side for weeks wanting to take the first few weeks to admire his wife and first born son. Back when Sukuna had a sense of Humanity still. Now you could feel it, the evil that was slowly seeping into the world as the seals that held Sukuna captive weakened. Kaori had fallen asleep when you kissed Yuji’s forehead, running your thumb over his cheek when he yawned.

“Sleep little prince, I’ll be here always.” Nuzzling your forehead against his he cooed before he briefly opened his eyes, his little brown eyes were golden in the light of the afternoon soon. You held onto him while he slept until Jin and Wasuke returned. Mori stood to the side, watching it all. Wondering how different you were before you picked him up out of the scum he slept in every night. How could the tyrant he learned to be Sukuna have been your husband? Was he not the cruel King of Curses everyone had logged and preached him to be? Were you as cruel of a monster before the sun set on the Golden Age?

🤍❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🤍❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🤍

“My condolences” was all you said as you bowed to Wasuke before entering the shrine room to pay your respects. It hadn’t been long after Kaori and Jin came home, they found her dead, details hadn’t been shared but seeing the split on her skull at the mortuary you had known well enough what it was. Jin followed soon after leaving Wasuke with his grandson. Kaori had made it know that she trusted you completely with Yuji, which lead to you signing the legal documents for becoming a Godmother. That was one decision Wasuke agreed with entirely.

———————

There you sat on the floor of Wasuke’s living room, cooing and playing with Yuji not to long before his first birthday. Pressing on the bottom of his feet while he kicked back, “Look at you little baby” you wiggled his legs and he giggled, “Getting all ready to walk! You’re growing up so fast!” Yuji cooed before sitting up with a baby grunt and staring up at you, you let him crawl into your lap and sit there before you squeezed, “Aw my little Yuji.” Kissing his head and squeezing him in one more hug you let him sit in your lap, clapping along to whatever was on the tv. “Mm your grandpa’s taking a while longer than expected, wanna eat and get ready for bed?” Yuji cooed mindlessly watching the tv until you pulled him up with you, he squirmed turning to look at you, his little chubby hands on your cheeks trying to squish your face, “baaba.” “Mhmm, Baaba, Bottle.” He kept cooing until you gave him a warm bottle.

“Well, has a cold so it you and I.” Yuji was still drinking out of his bottle laying his head on your shoulder. The other hand squished between both your chests, his eyes looking up at you. “You still look so much like your daddy… speaking of him, his presence is stronger I wonder if something really is changing…”

Yuji had fallen asleep against your shoulder, soft breaths as he barely held onto the bottle. Slipping it out of his hand you made your way to your room, Morí was finishing setting up a bassinet cushion on your bed.

“Everything’s ready Lady Y/n” you smiled “Thank you Morinozuka.” He bowed before leaving and you laid Yuji down, tucking him in with a blanket. Running your fingers over his little fists to uncurl his fingers, leaning down you kissed his forehead and he whined, “Good night little prince.”

🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤

Soon you were walking a young Yuji to school and back. Watching how he ran and jumped on playground before you got to the school. He purposely woke up early to be able to play, “mommy!” Your eyes snapping to Yuji when he cried sitting on the stairs to a slide. Rushing over to him you knelt to see him cradling his knee. “What’s wrong did you get hurt?” He sniffled little cheeks getting red as he puffed them out.

“my knee.” You pouted with him when he moved his hand, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fix it right up.” Pulling Yuji’s back pack off your shoulder you opened a little tin, it had bandaids you’d infused with cursed energy. Pulling out a bigger bandaid with a smiling chibi tigger your laid it over his knee, and he sniffled flinching, “Don’t worry, when you take it off you’ll be okay again.” Taking his face in your hands you kissed his forehead and he tried to hug you “thank chu.” He placed a wet kiss on your cheek that you wiped off when he wasn’t looking because you didn’t wanna hurt his little feelings.

“Alright! Let’s get you to school, I gotta buy some groceries for later.” You took his hands and he swung them back and forth, “Can we have noodles?”

He looked up at you starry eyed with a little bit of drool, you nodded, “Noddles with rice and fried egg?” He nodded excitedly “yeah!”

“Alright Yuji’s specialty to Start off the week it is.” You swung your hand with his and smiled looking ahead, stopping outside the schools gate where a teacher was waiting, “Bye mommy!” He hugged your side before rushing in, you waved at him when he turned back, “you didn’t say bye!” He screamed running back, “Bye Yuji,” he nodded running back before stopping again, “You didn’t tell me have a good day!” The teacher giggled when you smiled at her “Have a good day Yuji!” He nodded before you called him to come back, he was walking back and started running when he saw you kneel with open arms, when he ran into your hug you shook him side to side and he giggled. He leaned back from your hug “I love you Yuji, be good ,play nice and have a good day okay?” He gave a single nod, “Okay!” “Bye mommy love you!” He took off running, waving back at you with a closed eye smile.

“He’s very cute, everyone loves him and he’s very easy to make friends with.” The teacher smiled at you, “Yeah? That’s good, at least I know I don’t have to worry about him. Thank you.” You bowed your head to the teacher who brushed you off, “Please the pleasure is ours, Yuji is a little ray of sun on rainy days honestly.”

🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤

“Wasuke.” Was all you could say when he told you what he knew, “Yuji’s mother Kaori was a curse. It wasn’t hard to tell but I knew my son couldn’t handle it. I’m old in age and you might think I’m crazy, a loony old man. I failed to save my own son, I let him get taken by a curse, I could have saved him. But I was a coward, I saw that woman with her skull split open, she was dead and she should’ve stayed dead. But that thing living inside her…” you placed a hand on his.

“I understand what you mean Wasuke, I couldn’t save someone precious to me long ago to a curse. I could see them as long as I’ve been alive. That’s a world so cruel I wouldn’t wish for anyone to have to live through it…” your blank stare on his hand as he turned his hand over, “Who did you lose y/n?” His stare was fixed on you.

“I should tell you, it’s the only parting gift I have to give. Yuji was my son in what would be his previous life, his Father was a powerful man. One day a group sorcerer’s turned on him, sealing him away. His presence is strong in this world still, he’s alive. Yuji was our only son, and they took him from us dealing him in time to be reborn in a time distant from our. It was a mistake on their part. I was locked in a box called the Prison Realm, a place where Time stands still and you’ll lose your sanity before you die. A man following an ancient tale found that Box where our capturer’s died. I haven’t the slightest idea how he did it but he set me free in exchange I bless his wife with a healthy pregnancy, I did and for years I built a following. Before that, on the day of the attack Yuji and I made a binding Vow that I would find him again, it’s why he has that star shaped mark on his forearm. When I tell him this same story and he understands completely the Vow will be completed, and they’ll disappear.”

Wasuke looked at you, thinking over your words while staring at your arm where you had rolled up your sleeve, it was the same mark as Yuji. He started laughing head thrown back into his pillow “They could say I’m crazy. But they would label you insane, but at least we’d both have middle ground on the truth here.” He squeezed your hand weakly and you squeezed back, “Take care of Yuji, your son, my only grandson.” You nodded, “I will, I’ll do anything to make sure i never lose him or see him get hurt again. For what felt like endless nights I relived the same memory of him crying, screaming and reaching out, and I’ll be damned if I ever let that happen again.”

Wasuke nodded before patting your hand, “He’ll be getting home soon, you should be there for him, especially today.” You felt his words deeply, the ache in your chest, he was predicting his own death. You nodded before bowing at his bed side, “Thank you for everything Wasuke Itadori, I pray you find peace in the afterlife.”

He snorted waving you off, “find peace in this life or you’ll never have it. Now go.”

———————

You were at home, it was quiet, the sound of boiling brother, the window cracked open letting the sound of crickets and bird coo’s fill the kitchen. Yuji had moved in with you when Wasuke was moved into the Hospital. Morí was at the table filling out a book from your old shrine. You had started shrine work here while Yuji was at school making sure to keep it private.

The sound of scribbling and your slicing of vegetables stopped when you looked out the window. It was setting, the sun, everything was quiet when you felt a sense of dread and a wave of cold wash over you. Scribbling stopped when the phone line began to ring, you knew what it was. “Hello, am I speaking with l/n y/n?”

“Yes, this is her.” A shaky breath, “Wasuke Itadori has passed away, I offer my condolences. Yuji Itadori is here and filling out the necessary paper work. We’ll give you a call when all the necessary preparations have been made.”

Thanking the nurse you hung up, trembling slightly as you tried to keep slicing vegetables. “Wasuke..” it didn’t take long for your noodles and rice to finish.

“Where’s Yuji? He should be home by no-” your entire body shook as you gasped, your heart thrumming in your chest, “ Ryomen…”

@needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 @ang3lz-lov3 @christinerose380 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @lunaizhere @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @3ve88 @sakuxxi @mercymccann

[yourgothiccqueen]

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”

Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.

Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”

“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”

Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.

“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”

“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.

Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.

“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”

“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”

Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”

—————————————————————-

By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.

Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.

It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.

Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.

“Perfect.”

Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.

“Ermmm, what are you doing?”

Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.

“I’m eating my hot dog.”

The man smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.

The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.

“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.

“I’m here for the race. Are you?”

The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”

A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”

“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”

The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.

“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”

“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.

The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.

“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”

Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”

He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”

Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.

“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.

“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”

The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”

He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.

Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?

His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.

God he had beautiful eyes.

She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?

“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.

“Oh!”

The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”

The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).

“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”

An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”

“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.

A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”

“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”

———————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.

“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”

Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!

“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.

The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.

Y/N’s own grin left her face.

“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”

“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”

“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.

Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”

Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”

Annie stared. No words left her mouth.

Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”

A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.

“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N could feel herself cringing.

“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”

She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.

“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.

“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.

Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,

Hello Grumpy,

I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.

LN xx

“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.

Y/N grinned.

“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”