#feel free to ignore this i just wanted to share and have some fun

[randominchident]

from friends to this

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. max verstappen x reader ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

you've been friends with max for as long as you can remember, it takes a redbull engineer asking you out for both of you to realise you want more. (so much softness and longing)

alternative ending possessive version can be read here

You couldn’t remember the exact day you two had become friends. It was some day in middle school, you were sure of that. But the details had blurred over the years. It felt like you had always known each other.

Max had always been in your life.

You had always been in his.

Sitting in each other’s orbits just felt natural—though entirely platonic. That was the part others struggled to understand.

It was laughable the amount of times waiters had brought candles to your dinner table, 'for the mood', assuming the two of you were on a date. You'd stop correcting them after the third time it happened. Besides, it was fun to laugh about. To joke about how much you'd annoy each other if you really were a couple.

"You snore like a bear," you said, laughing over a glass of red wine, "I pity your future girlfriend."

"Doesn’t seem to bother you too much."

“For a free hotel room, I’ll put up with anything.”

He laughed.

After all these years of sporadically sharing hotel rooms, late night drives, unlimited paddock passesand crude jokes—you two had stayed simply good friends. He'd held you through bad break ups and you had held him through every DNF and every crash. You knew eachother like the back of your hand. Friends for life, that was what you always said.

Until things started to shift. Slowly. Subtly. So gently that neither of you really noticed.

It was Free Practice.

Rain had settled over the city days ago and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. The paddock was chaos���engineers scrambling to keep tires warm, trainers trying to keep drivers from catching colds.

Max stood calm in the middle of it all. You watched him, helmet in hand, exchanging quiet words with GP. It was always a strange sort of magic, how he could look so at home in the storm—like it was made for him.

You smiled to yourself.

He’d be fine today. You knew it.

“So, how long have you been together?”

The voice broke you from your thoughts.

You blinked, turning to find Marcus—one of the newer engineers—looming beside your seat. Tall, a bit cocky, but charming in a way that probably worked for him.

“What?” you asked, unsure if you’d misheard.

“You and Max. Been together long?”

You snorted. “Oh. No. We aren’t together. Just friends, y’know?”

It wasn’t the first time someone has misunderstood your relationship with Max. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time someone from Red Bull had made the mistake. Marcus glanced back toward Max, then returned his gaze to you with a slow smirk.

“Damn. And here I thought I had no chance.” He grinned. “You free tonight? I’d love to take you for a drink.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Your brain fumbled for an excuse, but none came fast enough.

“Sure,” you found yourself saying. “Why not.”

Barely a few minutes later, Max is by your side, throwing a tyre blanket over you to keep warm.

“It’d be unfortunate if you died of hypothermia before you saw me win on Sunday.”

“Yeah, what would you do without your only supporter cheering in the crowd?” You joked, burrowing into the blanket and sighing from the sudden warmth.

“I’d be lost without you,” he said, mock-solemnly. But there was a warmth in his voice that caught you slightly off-guard.

Max had told you to wear an extra jacket this morning. You had ignored him. He was pretty smug about it, but it didn’t stop him from trying to warm you up—even going as far as to offer his own jacket. As if he wasn't also standing out in the cold.

“Dinner tonight?” He asked, sipping on his water bottle and moving to sit beside you.

“Uh, I’ve got plans actually.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Plans? With who?”

“Marcus,” you answered, feeling a strange knot form in your stomach. “He asked me out for a few drinks.”

“Oh.”

Max didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze flickered briefly to Marcus, cold and stiff, before returning to you. There was something unreadable in his expression.

“Well,” he said, his voice casual but slow, jaw tight and face still, “He seems… nice. I guess.”

You smiled slightly, though it didn’t feel true. You were unable to keep the small flicker of guilt from beating in your chest.

That night, as you found yourself in the dimly lit bar, nursing a glass of wine with Marcus, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off. Not with Marcus, exactly. He was a decent guy—charming in that way that could probably win anyone over—but the whole time, you couldn’t stop thinking about Max.

Suddenly a text came through. You knew who it was before you even checked.

Going ok?

Marcus leaned over to see the message. He scoffed slightly, “I thought you weren’t together?”

“We aren’t.”

“Then why is he checking on you? Need his permission to go out?”

“Of course I don’t. He just…” you weren’t sure how to phrase it. “He just likes to know I’m ok.”

Another text came through, you angled your phone towards your chest so Marcus wouldn’t see:

I can pretend to be sick if you want to leave.

Then another:

I can see you reading these… is he that boring?

You laughed slightly and put your phone away.

It was ridiculous. You were here with someone else. Yet Max’s face kept slipping into your thoughts, his teasing smile, the way he always seemed to have your back without even trying. The way he cared so effortlessly. Always checking to make sure you were safe, you were happy.

When the evening ended and Marcus walked you back to your hotel, you could tell he wanted to kiss you. But a pit formed in your stomach at the thought of it. So you just smiled, thanked him for a nice night (not a great night, but a nice one) and quickly walked into your hotel room.

Being alone again was a breath of fresh air.

The next day, quali day, you found yourself wandering the paddock, watching the flurry of activity around you as everyone prepared. Max was in his element, once again, focusing completely on the task ahead. But when he saw you, that familiar, soft smile curved across his face.

“Survived last night?” he asked, walking over to you, his voice a mix of teasing and genuine concern.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the tiny smile that tugged at your lips.

You rolled your eyes, though the corners of your mouth tugged upward despite your best effort. “Barely. I think I hit my lifetime quota of polite smiles. I can only listen to guys explain their workout routine for so long.”

Max let out a low laugh. “Sounds fucking borning.”

You bumped his arm with your elbow, the familiar rhythm of your banter helping smooth the awkward edge that had hung in the air since last night. “Maybe I just have high standards.”

He tilted his head, eyes steady on yours. “Maybe you just went out with the wrong guy.”

The words hit you in the chest harder than you expected. You opened your mouth—half to laugh it off, half to challenge it—but nothing came out.

Max seemed to catch himself, blinking once, then glancing toward the garages like he hadn’t said anything at all. “Anyway,” he said, softer now, “Glad you survived.”

“I always do,” you replied, your voice not quite as light as you meant it to be.

Another pause. A quieter one.

Then he asked, “Did he try anything?”

You looked up at him, surprised by the question—not because he asked, but because of the way he asked. Not teasing. Not brotherly. Just… careful. Like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“No,” you said. “It wasn’t like that. I don’t think I wanted it to be.”

Max nodded once, but didn’t say anything. His jaw ticked slightly. You noticed.

Before you could decide what it meant, one of the Red Bull crew called his name from across the paddock, breaking the moment in two.

He started to walk off, then hesitated. “You’ll be watching?”

“You even have to ask?”

He smiled at that, something warmer than victory flickering in his expression.

And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with a hundred unsaid things heavy on your tongue.

Max dragged the car to pole, of course.

By the time the final times were locked in, your voice was hoarse from cheering and your heart felt like it had been running laps alongside him. You waited until the press was done pulling him in every direction before slipping backstage near the motorhome.

He spotted you instantly, eyes lighting up under the brim of his cap. “There she is.”

You didn’t hesitate. You threw your arms around his neck and held tight, letting him feel the full weight of how proud you were. “You killed it out there.”

He laughed into your shoulder. “You think?”

“I know.”

When you pulled back, his hands lingered at your waist, grounding you. The smile on his face softened as his gaze dipped lower, hovering somewhere near your mouth.

You swallowed. He didn’t say anything else—just gave your hip the lightest squeeze. You thought he would step back, like he always did after a celebratory hug. But instead he stayed there. His eyes remained locked on yours.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” His eyes flicked to someone behind you, then back to you.

“Nothing,” Max repeated, but there was a flicker of something in his voice. Something restrained. “Just… you’re here. That’s all.”

You huffed out a small laugh, though your heartbeat was climbing at a concerning rate. “Where else would I be?”

He didn’t answer that. Didn’t need to. You both knew where he was thinking of—across a bar table from a different guy, smiling politely, checking your phone too often.

Someone called Max’s name again—sharper this time. He blinked, like surfacing from deep water, then slowly stepped back. His hands dropped from your waist. You tried not to feel the loss of warmth too acutely.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, already backing away.

You nodded, watching him go. The moment, so suddenly, over. The warmth of his hands on your hips lingering after he had gone.

Later that night, you found yourself standing in the hallway outside Max’s hotel room, quietly debating whether or not to knock. He had texted earlier—Movie? My room? Just us?—like it was the most casual thing in the world.

But it didn’t feel casual.

Not anymore.

You knocked.

The door opened almost instantly. He must’ve been waiting.

He stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, barefoot, hair still slightly damp from a shower. Your gaze dropped instinctively to the nape of his neck, the clean skin of his collarbone and familiar freckles.

He stepped aside without saying a word, and you moved past him into the room.

It was quiet inside, dim and warm. The curtains were drawn, a movie already paused on the screen—some familiar, ridiculous action flick with explosions every other minute. You smiled.

“Got snacks,” Max said, moving to the side table. “But no wine. Sorry.”

“Guess I’ll survive,” you said softly, taking off your jacket.

He sat on the bed, remote in one hand, and gave you a small smile that was all shyness and something a little deeper. “You coming?”

You joined him, sitting close enough that your shoulders touched.

The movie played.

You tried to focus, really, you did. But the warmth of his leg against yours, the way his fingers occasionally brushed the comforter close to your hand—it was pulling all your attention away from the screen.

And then it happened. Slowly. Like everything else with him.

Your head dropped to his shoulder.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just let you stay there. Like he’d been waiting for it to happen. Hoping it would. You felt, more than heard, the breath he released. It ghosted across your hairline.

“I missed you last night,” he said, barely a whisper.

Your heart stuttered. “You knew where I was.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it.”

You turned your head to look up at him. He was already looking down at you.

A beat of silence stretched between you. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

So you reached first.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him a little closer.

“I saw you walking back with him last night,” Max went on, his voice rougher now. “And all I could think about was how he got to be the one beside you. Even if it was nothing. Even if it didn’t mean anything. I hated it.”

The silence stretched out.

“I didn’t kiss Marcus,” you said, “because I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if it were you.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down to your mouth. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do.”

Another breath. Then, finally, his hand rose to your cheek—tentative at first, almost reverent. Like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you this way. His thumb traced just below your cheekbone, and his eyes were full of something deep and aching.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t sudden. It was slow. Careful. Like he’d been dreaming about it for so long he didn’t want to get it wrong. His lips moved against yours with a kind of quiet desperation, like he was pouring years of longing into the space between you.

You melted into him instantly.

And when you finally pulled back, breathless and heart thundering, Max rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” he whispered.

“I know,” you whispered back, smiling. “Me too.”

He opened his eyes, and they were softer now. Unshielded. “Please tell me this isn’t just for tonight”

“It’s not,” you said. You knew then, as you think you knew years ago, that this was it for you. Max was always where you were meant to end up.

hope you enjoyed <3 i've never written this trope before so apologise if it dragged a bit! as always requests are open!

[sp4mja]

So I've decided to accept who I am and make a OP x QSMP AU. But before making any art I made a list of possible Devil Fruits each member would have plus some lore

This will be a long and extremely self-indulgent post, so everything regarding this AU is under the cut.

So, both the hispanics and the English speakers are invited to the island, they all range from ex marines to civilians to pirates. The only thing they have in common is that everyone is a devil fruit user, which quickly raises their suspicions about the island.

The logic behind having so many Devil Fruit users together is that the Federation purposefully gathered them all together. Expect for the brazilians and the french, who just happened to stumble upon the island, some of them do have devil fruits but not all.

And that's one of the reasons why the Federation dislike them, as they don't fit in the plan.

Speaking of the Brazilians and the French!

The Brazilians knew each other before the island but very briefly (except for Pac, Mike and Cellbit) since they all made it into the same ship and ended up crashing on Quesadilla island (Felps is not a good navigator and Forever was too worried to actually steer the ship.)

As for the French, they were traveling to a Sky Island on a big ship and they ended up falling from the sky, they didn't particularly know each other before but they grew closer on the ship before the ship fell.

Now, I'm still thinking about some fruits and roles (backstory from the cubitos before the island) but these are my general ideas, feel free to share your thoughts!

Some of my ideas are pretty self-explanatory but ask away if you have any doubts!

● Hispanics:

Luzu — tbh idk something about metals, maybe the smelt-smelt fruit? Maybe even a cyborg

Rubius — .... Wish-Wish fruit?? He grants wishes or something

Mariana — Whisper-Whisper Fruit (Taking into account his rp on tortillaland and integrating it into the qsmp, he should be able to talk to animals. I don't think the animals talk back tho)

Spreen — Bear-bear Fruit Model Black Bear

Missa — Bird-Bird Fruit Model Raven / Revive-Revive Fruit (Debating over this, specially because it would be funny if both Missa and Philza share similar DF, but also skeleton Missa is fun)

Roier — Spider-Spider Fruit Model Latrodectus Hesperus (black widow)

Vegetta — Scroll-Scroll Fruit (He's the wise man of the mountain, I'm sure he uses his knowledge to make powerful scrolls)

Maximus — Clank-Clank Fruit / Magnet-Magnet Fruit (Tbh I want something relating to Max's abilities with machines)

Quackity — String-String Fruit (freaky, the man who pulls the strings)

● English:

Wilbur — Tone-Tone Fruit / Song-Song Fruit (For this one I think going with Uta's power is better, Wilbur is extremely powerful but he is also a whimsical British guy who sings beautiful songs for his daughter to have a good night of sleep)

Fit — Pop-Pop Fruit

Philza — Bird-Bird Fruit Model Crow (Love-Love fruit if I'm feeling a little crazy, he turns Forever into stone sll the time)

Jaiden — Bird-Bird Fruit Model Parrot / Brush-Brush Fruit (As much as I love parrot jaiden, I think she being able to draw bobby after his death but stopping herself from bringing the art to life is extremely angsty and I love it)

Bad — Hollow-Hollow Fruit

Foolish — Shark Fish man. Swim Swim Fruit (I know, he can't swim so he now has a fruit that lets him swim everywhere? Yeah, but also a logia fruit that could help him build fits as well)

Dan — ? (Sorry)

Slime — Jello-Jello Fruit (Following the food themed devil fruits from the Big Mom Pirates, he turns into Jello... Lime flavor, he is sticky, sugary and a little sour, both Mariana and Juana are intrigued)

● Brazilians:

Cellbit — Archeologist and Archivist, former captain of a crew (as much as I would love to give Cellbit a DF, I think it would be charming if he could save Roier from falling into the sea all the time, as well as Felps)

Felps — Calm-Calm Fruit (He makes silent bubbles for Richarlyson everytime he gets overwhelmed, best dad)

Forever — Navigator (Pirate, former marine, he loves travelling and lost his right hand man on the way)

Pac and Mike— Shipwrights (Do not separate. They make the craziest ships on the world. Also criminals with bounties but not necessarily pirates)

● French:

Baguera — Mink Duck (she's a duck, she went to explore the world and oh well)

Etoiles — Woods-Woods Fruit / Arms-Arms Fruit (This one is complicated, he is a cucumber (?) So I thought a extremely powerful fruit like the Woods-Woods one its him, but he is also very dangerous and into weapons, so the other one also fits him? He is a bounty hunter)

Antoine — Stich-Stich fruit (He stiches dirt together, doesn't really use his power but he starts doing it after Pomme gets interested (he makes her clothes!!!))

Kameto — Normal ninja lmao (literally just a ninja, just a guy, he is terrifying)

Pierre — Inventor (Both Marines and Pirates buy his inventions, money is everything)

As for the eggs, I believe they follow the same logic as the seraphims. They were artificially made using human DNA and thats why they are both inteligent and fragile. They are replaceable and the Federation can make more if they find a quicker and cheaper way.

Oh and Cucurucho, I think it would be extremely fucked up if it has the Shadow-Shadow fruit. Imagine Cucurucho taking Cellbit's shadow, creepy.

[chronophiile]

things i experience or have experienced due to being and growing up intersex

painful intercourse, to the point there are times i cant ignore it and we have to stop, this leads to me feeling insecure and feeling like im disappointing my partners.

extremely painful periods, to the point i went to the hospital almost every time i got one

intersexism and internalized intersexism

i grew up with no gender marker on any of my legal documents

painful cysts on my ovaries

being made fun of by sexual partners for having abnormal genitalia

having intimate photos of myself shared because AND I QUOTE “you just look weird down there”

never feeling like i fit in with the girls or boys

not feeling like im trans enough because i was never female to start so im technically not even FTM trans

having to argue with doctors because they used to acknowledge i was intersex and refuse to diagnose me as such

people not understanding when i say im intersex and having to explain my diagnosis every single time because people wont let it be at just “im intersex, that means im not male or female” and they always want more details

people staring at my genitalia, people taking photos up my skirts and asking to see my body

being made fun of when i was little for being too masculine and having male features

being excluded from the LGBT community

long story short i get stared at every time i go out all because i have tits a dick and im currently growing facial hair.

shits rough out here i just wanted to being awareness to some of the things intersex people go through on a regular basis.

feel free to add on or make your own post :3

edit; yeah im radqueer/transid- that doesnt take away from my intersex experiences

[cloudyluun]

London Fever | neighbour!harry

Summary: Y/N moves into a high-end London apartment building, only to discover her new neighbor is Harry Styles—enigmatic, infuriating, and entirely too intoxicating. Their tension simmers beneath stolen glances, elevator encounters, and late-night mind games. But when she tries to break free from his spell with another man, Harry finally snaps—pinning her against her door with a dangerous confession.

He doesn’t like sharing.

And now, she’s in deep.

A/N: Me, writing this: Let’s keep it light, flirty, and fun! 😊Also me: What if he corners her in a hallway and says “I don’t like sharing” in a voice that ruins her entire life?

I am not responsible for any emotional distress caused by this man. He started it.

Part Two? Oh, you’re not ready. 😈

Wordt Count: 4,4k

Warnings: 

Explicit sexual tension (if that’s a warning or an invitation, I’ll let you decide)

Strong language (Harry has a sharp tongue in more ways than one)

Mutual pining & slow burn (this is torture, besties)

Jealousy & possessiveness (Harry is territorial, and it shows)

Masturbation scene (inspired by a voice that should be illegal)

Power plays & control games (who’s really in charge here? TBD)

Cliffhanger ending (because I love pain)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

That’s what I whispered to myself the moment I stepped into the apartment, dropping my suitcase onto the gleaming hardwood floor. The words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who had their life figured out. Someone who wasn’t running from the wreckage of a messy breakup and a mother who never thought she was good enough.

But this was it. My fresh start.

The apartment still smelled like my aunt—lavender and vanilla, soft and comforting—but the silence was heavy. I hadn’t been back here since I was a kid, when she used to let me sit on the balcony and sip cocoa like I was some high-society socialite. It was surreal to think that this place was mine now.

And it was beautiful. Sprawling windows, high ceilings, a ridiculous amount of space for one person. The kind of apartment people only dream about having in London. But right now? It didn’t feel like home. Not yet.

So I spent the next few weeks making it mine.

I painted over the muted beige walls with warm, inviting colors. Deep greens and soft creams that made the space feel less like a museum and more like a sanctuary. I filled the shelves with books I’d collected over the years, lined the windows with plants that I prayed wouldn’t die, and threw myself into decorating. Gold accents. A velvet couch. Candles in every corner. The kind of place that made you want to curl up with a glass of wine and pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

By the time I was done, it finally felt like I belonged here.

And then I saw him.

It was in the building’s lobby, late afternoon, when I ran down to grab a package the doorman had been holding for me. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, especially not him—tall, broad shoulders, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead, wearing black running shorts and a loose t-shirt that clung to his chest.

Harry. Fucking. Styles.

I nearly tripped over my own feet.

He barely glanced at me as he strolled past, his fingers brushing over his damp jawline, lost in whatever was playing through his headphones. The air shifted the moment he walked by—like he carried his own gravity, something that pulled people in whether they wanted it or not.

I swallowed hard, gripping my package like it was a life raft. Play it cool.

I turned toward the elevator, trying to ignore the way my pulse hammered in my throat. But before I could press the button, I caught him looking. Just a flicker. A half-second. But it was enough.

And I had the stupidest thought.

What if he knew my name?

The thought lingered long after I stepped into the elevator, my pulse still unsteady from that fleeting glance. He didn’t, of course. Why would he? He was Harry Styles. A global superstar. A man who had sold out stadiums and had the world at his feet. And I was just the new tenant, the girl fumbling her way through a fresh start.

Still, something about the way he’d looked at me stuck. Like a brief moment of recognition. Or curiosity.

I told myself I was imagining things.

Days passed without another sighting, and I let myself settle into a rhythm. Mornings were spent at the café down the street, afternoons arranging my bookshelves, nights curled up on my velvet couch with a glass of wine and a too-long list of unanswered texts from my mother.

I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before we ran into each other again.

It happened on a Wednesday. I had just come back from the grocery store, struggling under the weight of way too many bags, my arms aching as I fumbled for my key card in front of the elevator.

And then—a voice from behind me.

"Here, let me get that."

I turned, nearly dropping everything in the process.

Him.

Harry stood there, casual and effortless, one hand reaching out to hold the elevator door open. His curls were slightly tousled, damp like he’d just come from a shower, and he smelled faintly of something clean and expensive. His hoodie hung loose over his frame, sweatpants slung low on his hips.

My brain short-circuited for a second.

"I—uh—thanks," I stammered, stepping inside before my face could betray how flustered I felt.

He followed, standing at the opposite side of the elevator, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket.

The doors slid shut.

For a moment, silence.

Then—his voice, smooth and easy, breaking through the thick air between us.

"New here?"

I nodded, shifting the weight of my bags against my hip. "Just moved in."

His gaze lingered, traveling over me like he was committing me to memory. And then, that smirk. Just the faintest tilt of his lips before he looked away, dragging his fingers through his curls.

"That explains why I haven’t seen you before," he mused, almost to himself.

I swallowed. "Do you… know everyone in the building?"

"Not really," he admitted, glancing at me sideways. "But I would’ve remembered you."

My stomach flipped.

The air felt different now, charged with something I didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t flirting, not exactly, but there was a weight to his words. A casual observation laced with something else.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but then the elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors slid open onto my floor.

A breath. A pause.

"See you around, then," he murmured, watching me as I stepped out.

I nodded, still breathless, and the doors closed before I could say another word.

I stood there in the hallway for a long moment, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I would’ve remembered you.

I should’ve known that was just the beginning.

Because after that, I started seeing him everywhere.

In the lobby, when he’d nod in passing, lips curled in a knowing smirk. In the elevator, where the air always felt a little too thick, a little too charged. Even at the café down the street, where he’d slip in unnoticed, baseball cap pulled low, fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.

It was like once I’d noticed him, I couldn’t unnotice him.

And the worst part? I was starting to think he’d noticed me, too.

Maybe it was in the way his gaze lingered just a second too long. Or the way his smirk deepened whenever he caught me staring.

But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared me for what happened next.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when it happened.

Rain drummed lightly against the windows, the city still half-asleep, wrapped in a quiet kind of stillness. I had nowhere to be, nothing to do—so I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water melt away the lingering heaviness of the past few weeks.

By the time I stepped out, steam curled thick in the air, my skin flushed from the heat. A towel was loosely wrapped around my body, barely hanging on as I padded across the hardwood floor toward my closet.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t even glance at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that framed my bedroom.

Didn’t consider that my apartment was directly across from someone else’s.

I just stood there, half-draped in a towel, fingers carding through my damp hair, completely oblivious.

Until I felt it.

A presence.

That unmistakable prickle of being watched.

My heart stilled.

Slowly—so slowly—I turned toward the window.

And there he was.

Harry.

Standing on his balcony, coffee cup frozen mid-air, gaze locked onto me.

A dark flicker passed through his eyes, something unreadable, something that sent a sharp, unexpected thrill straight through me.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us looked away.

I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve yanked the towel tighter, turned around, done something.

But I didn’t.

Instead, my grip on the fabric loosened slightly, breath caught in my throat as the realization sank in—he wasn’t looking away.

His jaw ticked.

Fingers tightened around the handle of his mug.

And then, his lips twitched, just the faintest flicker of amusement, a slow, knowing curve before he finally—finally—tore his gaze away.

I exhaled shakily, pulse hammering, my skin suddenly burning for an entirely different reason.

I didn’t know what the hell had just happened.

But one thing was certain.

This… this was dangerous.

Because now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way his gaze had burned through the distance between our apartments. The slow, deliberate way his lips had curled—not in shock, not in embarrassment—but in something far more dangerous.

Amusement.

As if he’d caught me in a game I hadn’t even realized I was playing.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to stop.

In the days that followed, I kept catching him looking.

It started small—fleeting glances in the hallway when we passed each other. A slow drag of his eyes up my legs, a flicker of a smirk when he caught me watching him in return.

Then there were the elevator rides, where the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken. The way his fingers flexed when they brushed against the metal railing, the way he shifted just slightly closer when the doors slid shut.

One night, I was up late, sipping on a glass of wine on the rooftop terrace, letting the London skyline blur into a haze of city lights and half-formed thoughts.

And then—I felt it.

That unmistakable pull.

When I turned, I found him leaning against the railing, a cigarette perched between his fingers, watching me.

Not just in passing.

Not just out of curiosity.

But waiting.

The realization sent a shiver straight through me.

He wanted me to notice.

Wanted me to know that he was watching—that he was paying attention.

And I couldn’t tell if that made me want to run… or take a step closer.

It all came to a head in the elevator.

I’d just come back from a late-night grocery run, arms full, juggling my keys, my phone, and a bag that was already threatening to slip.

The doors slid open, and there he was.

Harry.

Dressed in a loose sweater and sweats, hair damp, like he’d just come from the shower.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then, with a lazy smirk, he reached out and held the door open, stepping back to let me in.

I muttered a breathless, "Thanks."

The doors slid shut.

And suddenly, we were alone.

The space felt smaller. The air thicker.

I shifted my bags in my arms, but one of them tilted—a carton of blueberries slipping free, scattering onto the floor.

“Shit,” I breathed, bending down quickly to grab them.

Big mistake.

Because the moment I crouched, I became acutely aware of how little space there was between us.

How close he was standing.

How his scent curled around me—something fresh, something expensive, something uniquely him.

My pulse hammered.

I reached for a berry just as he did, our fingers brushing.

Lingering.

And then, in the heavy silence, I heard it.

A low chuckle.

When I looked up, his gaze was already on me, dark, knowing, entirely too amused.

I swallowed hard.

“Need some help?”

His voice was low, dangerously smooth, like he already knew the answer.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Because this…

This wasn’t just a glance anymore.

This was a game.

And I had the sinking feeling I was already losing.

Because now, I wasn’t just thinking about him in passing.

Now, he was under my skin.

Now, every glance, every smirk, every moment of lingering silence between us was a loaded gun—cocked, ready, just waiting for someone to pull the trigger.

And maybe I was tired of pretending I didn’t want to.

Maybe I was done pretending at all.

!!!!

Because ever since that night in the elevator, something had shifted.

The way he looked at me lingered a fraction too long. The smirk he gave me every time we passed in the hallway felt a little too knowing.

Like he was waiting for me to slip.

And maybe I already had.

Because now, late at night, wrapped in the comfort of my own sheets, I was thinking about him.

Dangerous. Reckless. I didn’t care.

I poured myself a glass of wine, the rich red swirling in the dim glow of my bedside lamp. The city outside my window was alive, but in here—my apartment, my sanctuary—everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

I reached for my phone, flicking through my playlist until I found it.

His voice.

It was intentional.

I pressed play.

The song was slow, velvet-smooth, the kind that curled around my body and sank into my bloodstream.

The first note slipped through the speaker, and instantly, a shiver ran through me.

I exhaled, letting the tension ease from my body as I slid lower beneath the covers, my fingers trailing absently down my stomach.

Soft.

Light.

Teasing.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But God, I wanted to.

His voice was everywhere, thick with longing, smooth like honey and sin, and I let it pull me under.

My thighs clenched as my hand wandered lower, fingers grazing sensitive skin, sending a ripple of pleasure up my spine.

Fuck.

I wasn’t quiet.

I didn’t want to be.

Because some part of me—some reckless, shameless part—wanted him to hear.

The thought sent a fresh wave of heat straight through me.

I pressed deeper, my breath catching as I found just the right rhythm, matching the lazy, sultry beat of his voice.

The apartment felt hot, suffocating, like he was here. Watching. Waiting.

My body arched, chasing that edge, my own whimpers slipping past my lips, louder now, unrestrained.

I imagined his hands instead of mine. His mouth.

And that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed over me, my back bowing, my breath catching on his name.

I didn’t hold back.

Didn’t muffle the sound.

Let him know exactly what I had done.

Exactly who I had done it for.

The air in my room felt thick as I lay there, heart pounding, skin flushed.

Fuck.

What the hell had I just done?

The next morning, I stepped out of my apartment, still half-dazed, still buzzing from the night before.

And then I froze.

Because he was there.

Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, waiting.

Harry.

His curls were a little messy, his sweatpants hung low on his hips, and that smirk—that goddamn smirk—was already in place.

He dragged his gaze over me, slow and deliberate.

My breath caught.

He knows.

I knew it the moment he tilted his head, the moment his smirk deepened into something dangerous.

And then—

"Sleep well?"

His voice was low, teasing, laced with pure, unfiltered amusement.

I was absolutely, completely fucked.

That morning had changed everything.

He knew.

He knew.

And he made damn sure I knew that he knew.

The looks lingered longer. The smirks deepened. The air between us crackled with something unspoken but dangerous.

Every time we passed in the hallway, I felt his gaze skim over me, dragging heat in its wake.

Every time I stepped onto the rooftop terrace, he was there—watching, waiting, nursing a drink with that look in his eyes.

And then, one week later, fate decided to be cruel.

Because the elevator broke down.

With both of us inside.

It started out normal.

I had just gotten back from dinner—one of those “welcome to London” outings that my coworker insisted on. One glass of wine turned into three, and suddenly, my dress felt too tight and my skin felt too hot.

I just wanted to get home.

I stepped into the elevator, mind already wandering, and didn’t notice him until the doors slid shut.

Harry.

In a suit.

I swallowed hard.

I had seen him in a hundred different ways now. Sweaty from a jog. Shirtless on his balcony. In casual hoodies and ripped jeans.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

The black jacket was tailored to perfection, framing his broad shoulders. The white shirt underneath was undone just enough to hint at golden skin and a delicate silver cross resting against his chest.

He smelled like spice and cedarwood, a scent that curled around me in the small space, making my head spin.

I felt his eyes on me before I even looked up.

Dragging down my bare legs, lingering on the snug fit of my dress, pausing at the way the fabric clung to my curves.

I pressed the button for my floor.

The elevator jolted. Then stopped.

A small, dangerous silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, pressing the button again. Nothing.

My heart kicked up.

His voice, low and amused, broke the silence.

“Locked in, are we?”

I turned my head to look at him.

He was already looking at me.

I licked my lips. Bad move.

Because his gaze dipped to my mouth, and my stomach tightened.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus.

“Looks like it.”

I shifted slightly, the air suddenly too thick, too warm.

He leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossing over his chest, watching me with that smirk.

Like he was enjoying this.

Like he had been waiting for this.

“You like playing games, don’t you?”

The words were soft, but they slid over my skin like a touch.

I blinked up at him, heart hammering.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

My back met the cool surface of the elevator wall.

His scent filled my lungs, woodsy and warm, and I bit the inside of my cheek as his fingers grazed the metal railing beside my hip.

Not touching me.

But close enough that my breath hitched.

I should say something.

I should do something.

But the moment stretched, hot and charged, and I realized—

This isn’t a game anymore.

It should have been. It should have been a passing attraction, a fleeting thrill—just the consequence of living next door to someone too charming for his own good.

But the way he looked at me in that elevator? The way he let the silence stretch, let the tension coil so tight it stole my breath?

That wasn’t a game.

That was something else.

And when the elevator finally lurched back to life, when the doors slid open and I all but ran out, Harry stayed behind—his gaze heavy on my back, the weight of unspoken words pressing into my spine.

It happened a few nights later.

The storm came out of nowhere.

One second, the evening sky was a deep, velvety blue, the next, rain came crashing down, drenching the city in a relentless downpour.

I had made the mistake of walking to the small café down the street, my coat hanging loosely over my shoulders, a book tucked under my arm.

By the time I sprinted back inside the lobby, I was soaked through.

My dress clung to me like a second skin, damp fabric trailing down my thighs. My hair dripped against my shoulders, cold water sliding between my shoulder blades.

I shivered.

And then I saw him.

Harry.

Leaning against the sleek marble counter, phone in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips.

His emerald gaze flickered over me—slow and deliberate. Taking me in.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my stomach tightened.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he murmured, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

My pulse jumped.

I scowled, wringing out my sleeves. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

Just stood there, watching.

And I knew—this was dangerous.

Because Harry liked this.

Liked the way my breath hitched, the way my body responded to him before I could even think.

And the worst part?

So did I.

I didn’t think when I followed him.

Didn’t question it when he gestured toward the hallway, when my feet moved before my brain could catch up.

By the time I realized where we were, I was already inside his apartment.

And God, it was warm.

Dim lighting. Soft music. The scent of cedarwood and something undeniably him.

I hovered near the door, my breath uneven.

Why was I here?

He disappeared for a moment, returning with a white towel. Holding it out.

I hesitated.

Then reached for it.

Our fingers brushed.

And it was like a spark, like static curling up my spine.

I sucked in a breath, knuckles brushing his wrist as I clutched the towel between us.

His jaw tensed.

I knew then—I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

He felt it too.

The air between us thickened, pulling me closer like a current, like gravity.

He was looking at me.

Not just looking. Watching. Memorizing.

His lips parted slightly, breath steady but controlled. His hands flexed by his sides, like he was holding back.

I shivered again, but not from the cold.

My pulse pounded in my throat, something deep and primal settling in my stomach.

I didn’t stop him when he stepped closer.

Didn’t pull away when his fingers lifted, trailing up my bare arm.

I tilted my chin.

Our faces inched together, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.

Close enough that his breath ghosted over my lips.

And just when I thought he was going to do it—just when my heart stopped completely—

He pulled away.

“Not yet.”

His voice was low, rough.

Like it cost him something to stop.

Like he wanted this just as badly as I did.

And then he stepped back.

Leaving me breathless, burning, and utterly wrecked.

That was the only way to describe it.

The heat of his touch lingered long after he pulled away. The ghost of his breath still kissed my skin, and I hated how much I wanted more.

Not yet.

The words curled around my thoughts, tightening like a vice.

He had been holding back.

Not because he didn’t want to kiss me.

Because he wanted to wait.

Because he thought he was in control.

As if this was on his terms.

As if I would sit around, biting my lip and twirling my hair, waiting for him to decide when.

I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because if I spent one more night lying awake in bed, skin too hot, pulse too erratic, mind filled with thoughts of him—

His touch. His voice. His mouth—

I was going to lose it.

So, I made a decision. A reckless one.

I said yes to the date.

Alex.

Blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Charming, in a practiced kind of way.

He was polite. Sweet. Held doors open and paid for my dinner without hesitation.

He was everything I should want.

And yet, as he sat across from me at the candlelit restaurant, talking about his job in finance, I found myself drifting.

I stirred my wine glass, barely hearing his words, mind stuck on someone else entirely.

On emerald green eyes.

On dimly lit elevators and the smell of spice and cedarwood.

On a voice lower than a whisper, pressing against my skin.

You like playing games, don’t you?

A shiver rippled down my spine.

Not from Alex.

Never from him.

I forced a smile, nodding along as he spoke, but the restlessness inside me only grew stronger.

It ached.

And when the night finally ended, when he walked me back toward my building with a lingering glance, I knew what was coming next.

A kiss.

I should have let him.

I should have leaned in, let my lips brush against his, let myself pretend for just a little while longer.

But something in my stomach twisted.

Something inside me revolted.

Because no matter how hard I tried—

It wasn’t Harry.

And it never would be.

So, I pulled back.

Mumbled an excuse.

Stepped inside my building—

And froze.

Because he was there.

Harry.

Waiting.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the golden glow of overhead sconces, but I could still see every detail.

His shirt slightly rumpled.

His tie loosened around his throat, like he had been waiting a while.

A slow prickle ran down my spine.

I swallowed hard, pulse hammering as he watched me.

Not speaking. Not moving.

Just watching.

His gaze flickered past me, out toward the glass doors—toward Alex.

Something in his expression shifted.

Something cold.

Sharp.

Possessive.

“Fun night?”

His voice was casual.

Too casual.

But there was an edge to it. A razor-sharp tension that cut straight through me.

I lifted my chin, pushing past the sudden tightness in my throat.

I smirked. “Very.”

His eyes darkened.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

I could feel the tension in the air, stretching tight between us.

Like a wire about to snap.

I took a step closer, tilting my head, poking at the bear.

“Why do you care?”

That was a mistake.

Because before I could blink, before I could even breathe—

He moved.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

Then another.

Until my back hit the door.

Until he was so close that I could feel his breath against my cheek.

The heat of his body just inches from mine.

The scent of spice and cedarwood, wrapping around me, making it impossible to think.

My stomach tightened, a pulse thrumming at the base of my throat.

This was new.

Harry had always watched. Always teased.

But he had never touched.

Not like this.

Not with his fingers tracing my jaw, with his body caging me in, with his lips hovering so, so close.

His emerald gaze flickered over me, slow and dangerous.

He studied me like he was memorizing something.

Like he was committing every single detail to memory.

I could barely breathe.

His thumb brushed against my cheek.

Featherlight.

A touch so delicate it made my knees weak.

Made my mind spin.

Then, his lips parted, voice dropping into something low and lethal.

“Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, tone dripping with something dark.

Something possessive.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

Forcing me to see the heat in his eyes.

The warning.

“I don’t like sharing.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

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[werecreature-addicted]

Always thinking about whatever monster is capable of using their claws to tear a hole through your stockings where your wet heat is, werewolf or otherwise: They're too impatient

werewolves are of course very good, but many monsters have sharp claws and big tounges to fuck you with.

Imagine, a seven-foot-tall Orc husband who wants nothing more than to spend all day with you in bed making you cum until you go limp and pass out from pleasure. and depending on your boundaries, maybe a little after that too.

But nooooo you can't stay in bed getting fucked all day. you have to "do housework" and "run errands". or whatever. Your orc husband does understand that if you spend your time on his dick instead of doing dishes and buying groceries it will make his life worse, but it's hard to care about stuff like food when he's thinking with his cock.

He follows you around as you jump between tasks trying to find a large enough window of free time for a quicky. He thinks you're so cute when you act like his little housewife it only makes him want to fuck you more. but you stay too busy to take a quick load of Orc cum.

By the time you finally consider your work done for the day, he's on edge and his nerves are shot, he feels like he's going to burst just looking at you. you try to sit down on the couch but half a second later you're snapped up and thrown over his shoulder. It's finally his time to have some fun.

He tosses you on your shared bed on your hands and knees, spreading your legs wide apart, and slashes at your clothes with his long talon-like nails. He presses his mouth to your exposed cunt and moans at your taste, he pushes the remaining scraps of your clothes away while keeping his mouth on you, unwilling to let go of your sweet pussy for even a second now that he has you where he wants you.

He's happy like that making out with your pussy, gripping onto your hips with one hand and jerking off his poor ignore cock with the other. He growls to himself as he listens to your pretty moans of pleasure as you buck your hips back against his face, trying to fuck yourself back on his thick tongue, groaning in satisfaction when you cum, gushing on his mouth, dripping down his chin. Then he swaps his tongue out for his fingers, dipping his mouth a little lower to suck on your clit.

You whimper and protest weakly the feeling was too much this soon after your first orgasm, which just makes him laugh to himself. "would you prefer if I just fucked you right now without stretching you out?" he asks teasingly. That shut you up. Silly little thing, you didn't really think you'd get away with only one orgasm after teasing him all day, did you?

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie. 

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you. 

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score. 

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind. 

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man. 

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face. 

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently. 

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth. 

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting. 

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink. 

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense. 

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight. 

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end. 

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.    

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed. 

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going. 

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace. 

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?  

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.  

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?  

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”  

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.” 

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on. 

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist?  He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it. 

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going. 

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right?  You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing  faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires. 

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them. 

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze. 

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction. 

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning. 

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask. 

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.  

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively. 

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact. 

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head. 

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be. 

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention. 

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.  

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?” 

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion. 

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder. 

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close. 

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment. 

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.   

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you. 

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair. 

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

[fallingdownhell]

Heyaaa!

I saw your request is open soo...

Can i request gn reader with Ayato, Kazuha, Diluc, and Kaeya where the reader is pranking them by shouting their full name (since we know their full name) what is going to be their reaction?

Feel free to ignore or decline this request^^

I love this! So much! Thank you for your request<3 Characters Included: Kazuha; Diluc; Ayato; Kaeya Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; pranking the boys by calling their full names; not proofread yet Word count: 2,6k words Have fun with this one<3

Kazuha

This morning was peaceful, Kazuha thought as he layed in bed, the morning rays of the sun shining in through the open window. He let them warm his body as he slowly woke up more and more from his slumber.

When he extended a hand to feel for your sleeping body next to him, he found the space empty. Cold at that, indicating that you've been gone for a while.

A groan left him, Kazuha hated it when he woke up without you next to him. He'd much rather spend his morning cuddling you in bed than doing anything else.

But then the next moment, the smell of something cooking hit him, and he knew that you were already out and about making breakfast for the both of you.

So, with a sigh, Kazuha decided to get up and get himself ready before heading down to join you in the kitchen.

He got up from bed and stretched his body out first, then headed into the adjacent bathroom. Taking a shower first thing in the morning always felt refreshing to him and it most often than not was the last push he needed to fully wake up.

Once that was done and he headed out of the shower again, Kazuha got dressed and combed through some tight knots of his hair. He was still in the middle of doing so, when suddenly, the silence of the house was interrupted by a shout of his name.

"Kaedehara Kazuha! Get down here!", your voice shoutet and instantly, Kazuha's body froze up. There were a million thoughts in his head, and yet also, not a single one except for: he had somehow fucked up.

The tone in which you had shouted his name sounded mad and if that wasn't a clear indication about your mood, the use of his full name certainly was.

To not make your mood any worse, he hurried to put the comb away and throw the last piece of clothing on while he already hurried out of the bathroom and towards you into the kitchen. He was preparing himself internally for whatever it was that he did that pissed you off so much and already had a million apologies on his tongue.

But, to his surprise, when he got to the kitchen, he found you there, utterly calm as you put the food on two plates for each of you. You didn't even notice him coming in.

"(Name), my love..", he carefully spoke, just in case, but in reality, he was so confused.

"Oh, good. Food's ready!", you look up and smile at Kazuha, which then throws him completely out of loop. He just stands there and stares at you.

"Is something the matter, dear?", you ask him, that smile still on your lips as you sit down at the table. That's when the puzzle pieces fall for Kazuha and he visibly relaxes, letting out a drawn out breath.

"Please, don't do that again, love. I was scared for my life."

You laugh at that, apologizing for scaring him that much. He doesn't really care as long as you apologize with a cuddle session afterwards.

Diluc

Since you moved in with Diluc at Dawn Winery, the time you spend together has improved significantly compared to before, but it still wasn't nearly enough as to what both of you would want it to be.

He still had lots of work to do, managing the Winery, the Angel's Share, and all the business he likes to take over as the Dark Night Hero. Even so, the fact that the two of you are now living under the same roof has changed things for the better.

You know get to see him every morning, since Diluc has made it a point to stay in bed until both of you have to get up for work. You always eat dinner together and he makes an effort to spend every other evening with you. He really tries his best for you.

He even moved his office next to your shared bedroom, so that there aren't too many rooms between you and when you want to see the other, you only have to go into the adjacent room and not wander the entire mansion.

Tonight was a night Diluc had dedicated to his work, which he made you aware of and you were okay with, since you told him that you could use the time to continue the book you were currently reading.

Diluc was hunged over stacks of papers, trying to sort them from most to least important before he went into looking over them. He had worked through a good portion of it already, thinking that he was making great progress. When he looked at the clock on the wall, it told him that it was already almost midnight.

But not to worry. In about an hour or so, he would be done and could join you in bed. Or so he thought. But when he wanted to continue his work after a short break, he suddenly heard you yelling from next door.

"Diluc Ragnvindr!", your voice shoutet his name and he immediately picked up on the tone of your voice. You sounded upset..

Instantly, he began thinking back, trying to figure out what could have made you angry at him. You were fine when he last saw you at dinner, smiling and laughing with him. Then he went to his office afterwards. He couldn't possibly have done or said anything to upset you... right?

His body, that had faced towards the door that lead to your shared bedroom, began to act on his own and he got up and walked over there. Diluc gently knocked on the door, opening it a bit and sticking his head through the gap.

You were laying on the bed, comfortably tucked in and reading your book.

"Everything okay, my love?", Diluc softly spoke up, not sure what to do but he definitely didn't want to make you further upset.

At the sound of his voice, you perk up and face him, a smile spreading on your lips. You place the book down on the nightstand before extending an arm towards him.

"I'm cold. Come cuddle with me." you say in a small pout, which confused Diluc even more. You sounded so mad just now when you yelled his name. Not just his name, but his full name! So why.. were you acting like nothing was wrong?

Still, he complied to your request, his work and papers forgotten for now as he joined you in bed. You made yourself comfortable in his arms, your head and part of your upper body resting on his chest as he began to play with some stands of your hair. Everything was peaceful, but Diluc's mind was still running, trying to make sense of everything. In the end, he decided to just ask you about it.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No? Why would I be?", you asked him, but your voice sounded sleepy already

"Because you were yelling earlier. And you used my full name. Not just my name or a petname. So I thought..", he got interrupted by a chuckle coming from you.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was just messing with you a bit. Just wanted you here to cuddle with you."

A joke... that's what it was. He couldn't help the relief that washed over him hearing that, and the tension finally left his body. He's not mad at you, but please, don't do that again if you don't want him to have a heart attack next time..

Ayato

Being the spouse of the head of the Kamisatio Clan was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. Although Ayato was a busy man with much work, he always made sure to make time for you to spend with him, just the two of you.

Every day, he made that effort, even though this sometimes meant even more stress for him with certain work if he put if off too long. But to him, it was worth it when he did it for you. He's a loyal man in that regard.

One of the downsides to this however, is the fact that this man often times overworks himself without even realising it. Before you came around, it was Ayaka's and Thoma's job - but mostly Thoma's - to take care of Ayato and remind him to take frequent breaks in between.

Now, you like to take over that part for Thoma, taking every chance you get to see your boyfriend, even if it's only a few seconds to remind him of a break or to bring him something to drink with some snacks.

Ayato really appreaciates you doing this for him, smiling every time and stealing a quick kiss before you're gone again. He thanks Celestia each and every day for you being so understanding with his work.

But that doesn't mean that there aren't still days where breaks just aren't possible and he has to power through or else it would never get done.

Today was such a day. Ayato leaned back and let out a heavy sigh as he finally finished with work for today. He has been sitting in this room - his office - the entire day, cramped up and not able to take even a single break. Come to think of it, he was so focused on his work that he didn't even know if you've come in here at all today to check on him. He's sure you did, as you did it every day, but he didn't even notice..

Not to worry. He would simply rest here for a few minutes, trying to come down before he would set out to search for you. Being in your presence was exactly what he needed to recharge some of his engery again.

Closing his eyes and listening to the silence around him, Ayato took a deep breath, calming down more and more the longer he continued to do so. Just a bit longer and he'll-!

"Kamisato Ayato!", a voice suddenly called out his name. And not just any voice, but yours.

His eyes immediately snapped open at the use of his full government name. No cute nickname, nor petname, not anything.

At first, he was too stunned to react, trying to figure out if what he heard was actually real or just something his brain made up. For a few seconds, he sat there and listened to the silence that followed. Just as he was about to relax again, he heard your voice calling him again.

"Kamisato Ayato! Get over here, now!", you shouted for him again, this time your voice sounded a bit more aggressive than before. Now he was certain that this was not his brain playing tricks on him...

Not knowing what had happened but also not wanting to upset you even more, Ayato quickly got up and exited the room. He didn't know where you were, but you sounded rather close, so there weren't too many options available. After looking through some rooms, he found you in the dining room, placing down plates full of steaming food on the table.

"Darling? Are you okay?", Ayato asked as he entered the room, wandering over to you and catching you in his arms, holding your face in his hands.

You smile up at him, circling your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Everythings fine. But you've been in there the whole day and dinner is ready so I figured I had to get you out of there somehow."

It then clicks in his head, that you weren't actually mad at him and it was just a trick to lure him out.

"Oh, you little devil~", Ayato smiles down at you, gently poking your nose which made you giggle.

"Hey, it was effective, wasn't it?", you defended yourself and he had to agree with you there. After all, no matter what, you'd always be his top priority..

Kaeya

You and Kaeya had a great relationship going. Both of you had busy jobs but you still tried to spend as much time together as possible. As a rule of thumb, you've come to an arrangement that every other day, one of you would spend the night over at the others place, since you're not living together at this point.

It's worked out great for you two and sometimes, even though you're together, you can still do your own things, and just enjoy each others presence.

Like today, for example.

You two were at your place, both on the couch. Kaeya was sitting comfortable at one end of the sofa, studying over some plans and things he had to look over for Jean for the knights, while you were laying down, head placed on Kaeya's lap while reading a book.

There was a comfortable silence as each of you was doing his own thing, though every now and then, Kaeya would reach down to brush through your hair. You knew he liked to do that as it calmed him down. And you enjoyed it, so no reason for you to complain about it.

However, it was getting late already, the fire also slowly dying down, so you decided to end your book for today. You told Kaeya that you'd go to the bathroom first, so he had a bit more time to study through the plans. He smiled at you and nodded while you headed towards the bathroom.

Kaeya sits there for quite some time, but he's not really focusing on the reports all that much anymore. He's getting tired and listening to the water running from the bathroom, he can't wait to get into bed with you.

So, deciding to leave it be for today, he places the papers down on the table and lets his head fall back to relax a bit until you were done in the bathroom. He wouldn't have minded to join you in there, either...

As he sat there, relaxing and thinking, he closed his eyes for a bit. But the longer he had them closed, his eyes grew heavier and heavier..

He was about to fall asleep, when suddenly..

"Kaeya Alberich!", you voice sounded from the bathroom and Kaeya's eyes snapped open at the use of his full name.

You'd never done that before, not even when you were mad at him beyond anything. What could he have done that could possibly bring out such a reaction in you?

Quickly, he got up and headed to the bathroom where he heard you from, but things weren't adding up for him. Everything was fine until a few minutes ago. You'd never done this, so why now, so suddenly?

There hasn't been any arguments the past weeks, everything was going smoothly. Unless he said or did something genuinely horrible..

But he was pretty sure that he didn't..

But if not, then there was only one other possiblity...

Rounding the corner, Kaeya knew immediately what was up when he saw you standing there, smiling brightly at him, looking like you were quite proud with yourself.

"Yes, my dear?", he asked, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Would you be so kind and help me with my hair?", you ask, your voice ever so sweet again, like you didn't do anything at all.

"Of course.", he leads you to the bed and makes you sit and face away from him before he goes to work on your hair, gently tangling out all the knots that had formed in them.

He won't say anything about it or hold it against you, but if you keep doing this over and over again, he might have to come up with something to teach you a lesson not to scare him like that again..

[kanmom51]

Have Jikook changed?

My first post for 2025 and here I am, once again, making some points that I feel need to be made.

This is going to be a long one, so brace yourselves for it.

Now that I'm back home from my trip I felt like talking about this post I came by, more so talk about the ask in this post:

I wanted to address this issue that has been concerning some Jikookers over the past year.

This coming up over and over again:

"Jikook have changed". "Their relationship has changed". "They aren't the same", yadda yadda yadda...

Truthfully, this is not something new.

I heard this back in 2021. I heard it in 2022. I definitely heard it in 2023 (who didn't?) and even in 2024, which has me racking my brain seeing as to what they gave us with AYS, their choice of enlistment together and them, in the very few times we heard from them since they enlisted, making sure to tell us they are together (for all those that keep claiming they aren't), they are good, and as of late, JK letting us know they spend their free time together and sing while showering together everyday - yes - everyday.

ALT

I am aware of the fact that many of those voicing these claims are not and never were Jikookers. Amongst them you will find your proverbial cultists (you know exactly who I'm talking about), and antis of all sorts, including but not only JK and JM solos.

When I talk about Jikookers, well, I'm talking about supporters. And I use the word supporters because I do believe there is a stark difference between those who support JM and JK and their bond and love for each other, and shippers that at times are in this for their own gratification rather than support for those two young men. This self gratification can come in many forms. For example, one of them is feeding off drama. Needing JK and JM's relationship to have it's ups and downs. Needing there to be cheating and breakups and heartbreak, making it much more interesting and not just your run of the mill boring long term relationship, cause where's the fun in that?

There are also the 'insecure' Jikookers. These are those that need that constant affirmation from JK and JM, need them to 'prove' they are indeed together, that their bond is as strong as it has always been, that they are MORE than friends to each other. When this affirmation doesn't come they become unsure, start to question it all. And when a blurry no-faced 8 sec clip shows up, they disregard the timing of the clip landing, they disregard it showing up with clearly doctored other clips and pics, they disregard all the suspicious inconsistencies in that clip, including apartment placement, windows placement, furniture placement including objects that aren't supposed to be there, problematic supposed timeline of the filming. Apparently it's enough for there to be a few similarities (while ignoring everything that doesn't fit) for it to be a PROVEN clip of JK. I'm not even going into it being a totally innocent interaction that proves absolutely none of the vile things people, that were supposed Jikookers, were now saying about JK. Not to mention conclusions that were now made regarding JK and JM and their bond and relationship. One grainy clip had people dismiss years of interactions and words spoken by those two, including in 2023, including JK's lives, including JM flying out to be with JK in July, including JK's "I go the other way" TikTok and him coming live shortly after and telling us all that he does not have a girlfriend. Apparently JK supposedly hugging a woman makes him: straight, a cheater, in a relationship with a woman, a king of fanservice using JM to promote his own career.

Where does this insecurity stem from?

Is it because these are two very desirable men that could HAVE anyone they ever wanted, and how can it be that they chose to be in a monogamous relationship with another man for years and since they were literally teenagers? Is it even Homophobia perhaps (including internalised)? Is it due to lack of maturity or lack of experience or bad experience in love and relationships? Is it a combination of all of the above? IDK.

This is becoming long winded... I know I said this will be long, but this is me not even getting started on the points I wanted to make in this post.

Let me sum this up before I move on:

People love drama. People need constant affirmation, especially when it comes to a queer relationship between two hunks of men that are the wet dream of millions, regardless of their sexuality or gender. People have a hard time coming to terms with these two men being in a healthy loving long term relationship.

I guess it's time I started getting to what I wanted to convey here...

I wanted to talk about the whole "they changed" issue.

Because you know, I really struggle understanding what people actually want from JK and JM when it comes to that. What do they expect from them?

What their expectations would be of a straight couple.

What their expectations would be of a straight long term couple.

What their expectations would be of two straight superstars who happen to be in a long term relationship.

Insert the queer into that equation.

Insert queer closeted into that equation.

And now try to make sense of it all.

What do they expect of 2 mega superstars in a 10 year, more or less, queer closeted healthy monogamous long term loving relationship?

This is about the closeted queer relationship, but it's also about what exactly does a long term relationship look like. Healthy long term relationships, straight or queer. Because I do believe that there are too many who have zero idea of what that is supposed to look like. You know, in real life.

Do anons like the one in that post even know what that kind of a relationship looks like to make the claims they do?

There is a reason why so many people that are in such a relationship are recognising Jikook for it!!!

Oh, and btw, I saw their follow-up ask in which they 'explain' what they mean by "changed". Yeah, all the same same. Distanced, not seen together, not spend time together, enlistment together not an actual choice, yadda yadda yadda... Bull meet crap. Jikooker or not is irrelevant to the points I want to make, so I'm not going to get into it. What I want to talk about is Jikook's relationship. Or more so, what a healthy relationship looks like. Over time. As it progresses.

Key word being:

Progresses.

A relationship is dynamic. It grows. It changes. Even more so a healthy one. As the people in the relationship grow, mature, as both JM and JK did (seeing they started out in their teens or early 20s), so does their relationship. Not to mention it changing and adapting to the environment it's in, to realities that change.

A relationship that stays the same, it becomes stagnant. We change all the time. Our surroundings change. The people around us change. If the relationship itself stayed the same it would not survive the test of time.

2013 Jikook are not 2014 Jikook.

Jikook in 2015 are different than they were in 2014 (I mean, their dynamics changed and progressed during 2015 itself as well).

Jikook 2016 are not the same as they were in 2015.

Jikook dynamics in 2017 are different than they were in 2016.

And so on so forth. All the way into 2023 and 2024.

You cannot expect Jikook 2017 to be the same as Jikook 2019, and the same as Jikook 2021 and the same as Jikook 2023-4? And their relationship isn't existing in a vacuum. Untouched, uninfluenced or impacted by everything that is going on around them.

They grew, their environment and reality changed, and as such their dynamics changed and progressed.

Anyone that has followed those two, anyone that joined over time and has watched original content from the past 11 years has seen the progression of their relationship. And make no mistake. This whole "they aren't the same" didn't start in 2023. But it sure has become louder since mid 2021 up to today. There are many reasons to this, growth of the fandom being one of them, but I do believe the main issue was less Jikook content starting end of 2021, basically starting with Chapter two. Them going on their long break and then hiatus into their solo debuts. Less BTS ot7 content meant less Jikook time. Period. Jikook are allowed to be themselves more so when they have the protection of all 7 around them. So, during this period of time we mostly got the same interactions as before, only thing is that we got much less of them and into 2023 we got close to none. This drove people mad. It simply cannot be that the two have a relationship but we aren't allowed to see it, right? There is no way that they are spending time together and we don't know about it... If they aren't seen out together (more so if K-army are not telling us if they are), can they actually still be a couple? As a couple how can they not be fully involved in each other's solo careers, including letting us know that they are, right? I keep saying this, well, I've said it all the way back from 2021: Not seeing them doesn't mean they aren't there. And the two showed us exactly that. We got crumbs of it throughout 2023 but even more so in the end of that year. They have been seeing each other. Spending time at each other's places. Talking to each other about their music. Sharing their songs with each other getting their input. Each knowing the other's songs before released. Knowing as in even being able to sing or hum them. And the choice of enlisting together, the choice not to be separated for the 18 months of service. The choice to go into a fighting unit on the frontline being the price to be paid so that they can stay together. No, there is no comparison to Jin. Yes he was in a base that is considered to be close to the frontline, but he was an instructor in basic training, not a fighter in a frontline unit ready for battle at any given moment. As for the stories about JK not being able to enlist into Tae's unit. Nope. Not true. JK's tattoos weren't preventing him from getting into that unit. Not to mention, if it was that important for Tae to be with JK and the latter couldn't enlist into that unit, well you'd expect Tae to make the effort and enlist into a unit where they could be together, no? Kind of like what JM and JK did to be able to be with each other... There was a clear choice made - for JK and JM to be TOGETHER. The two of them. Period.

Again I digress.

What's wrong with me?????

I was going to talk about healthy long term relationships...

"Jikook have changed", "their relationship has changed". Well, DAH. Of course it has. That's what happens with an ongoing relationship.

If they hadn't changed then I would maybe have doubts, you know, "it's only a friendship" kind of doubts. Although, even friendships change with time (wouldn't that mean that a closer more intimate relationship with another person was prone to change even more so?). Or, like some 'Jikookers' like to talk about them being attracted to each other but never making that move beyond the attraction - yes, then we would be seeing pretty much of the same Jikook as in the early years, but we aren't. We are seeing exactly how a couple's relationship progresses overtime.

But from the little we are privileged to see, the little they allow us to, seeing that even though they are public figures they are still entitled to have a private life, their dynamics, they are clearly as close as ever and A-ok. The level of intimacy between them is beyond, and it's funny to me how so many missed how they stood out so clearly in AYS, but even more so in AYS Jeju. The stark difference between those two, their interactions, their tones with each other, the care towards each other, and then with Tae. It's both ways btw. Each of them towards Tae and Tae with each of them. Clear difference between friends and couple.

But let's move on from AYS, and specifically from the clear differences we saw in Jeju.

Let's talk about those "changes" these shippers, or "insecures" or antis are seeing. I read the comments to the post and I agree with many of them. And I also agree that in a way this anon here represents basic homophobic ideas. The thought of a healthy monogamous long term queer relationship is so unheard of for them that clear signs of exactly that are interpreted as the exact opposite. Clear signs of that calmness, settled in day to day routines, the even, for lack of another term, BORING contentment of a couple are being ignored because what? They themselves have zero idea what a healthy long term relationship looks like? Because they aren't really interested in JK and JM's happiness and want to see the drama, the push and pull, the teenage boy hard to hide or disguise attraction?

Well, I've got some news for those I mention above.

Relationships, the healthier they are, the more they change, adapt. To each other and to everything that surrounds them.

JK and JM grew up.

JK was 18 and JM 20 when things changed between them (in my book). They are now in their late 20s.

They matured. Their relationship matured.

And it adapted.

Adapted to everything and everyone around them.

It changed and adapted to the pandemic in 2020-21. JM struggled, JK was there with him through it all.

Hybe being created. Hybe going public. Hybe vying to buy SM. MHJ and the shit she's pulled, even way back in 2022.

BTS hiatus. Solo debuts.

All these have had an impact on their relationship. Not as to end it, but most definitley having to adapt to these new realities. And as a couple in this industry and a queer one as such, these all also had an affect on what they allowed us to see. Of them. Because of course these last ones impact what we are being allowed to see or hear. Of course there is much that is happening that we don't know, much that we don't get to see, much that we are not allowed to see.

Put all of those together and see where that puts you with regards to a 10 year long term relationship.

A couple in a healthy long term relationship makes for 2 people who share a level of intimacy shared with no others. It has it's ups and downs. They will be sarcastic with each other. They will bicker. They can be bitchy with each other. They will also be highly affectionate with each other. Caring, taking care of one another. Naughty and teasing and flirty with each other. The love is there. The attraction is there. But as time goes by and as they grow up it's more controllable. In a way, it can be referred to as SOFTER. Less edgy as it used to be in the early days. Less urgent perhaps would also be a way of putting it. Many like to refer to it as "domestic".

Jikook in AYS are all of that and more.

I also saw people claiming Jikook in AYS are clear evidence of that "change" they are talking about. And I sit here, running AYS through my head and trying to understand what the heck they're talking about, because AYS, all 8 episodes of the show, showed us just how GOOD Jikook are. As a couple. As a loving couple in a long term relationship. A long term relationship that's been going on since late 2015. A long term relationship that started out with two hormonal driven teenage (totally uncontrollable, lol) boys changing, adapting, growing into two almost 30 year old men (still hormonal, but with much more restraint around each other while on camera, lol).

**Side note: Something I haven't talked about much in this post, but the camera is also a huge part here (when it comes to AYS), one most of those who talk about that "change" seem to forget. Add the fact that although these two have lived many hours in front of the cameras over the years, those cameras haven't been a consistent presence in the past few years, unlike pre 2020. Not to mention that this is the first time the two have ALL of the attention on them and them alone. It's not a coincidence (like most things when it comes to those two) that the moment these people are latching on to is from the first few minutes of the first episode of AYS, as the two just embarked on the unknown journey of filming this show, that they didn't even know what it will look like and what to call at start. I wonder how these Jikook relationship critics would be behaving with a camera in their faces all while being in a closeted relationship... Let's not play stupid and not understand the ramifications of their relationship being 'outed', even more so before they are willing and/or ready for it.

**Another side note: Also, behaviours tend to change according to the situation. Jikook on stage with adrenaline pumping in their veins, all pumped up and less inhibitions are not the same Jikook when first starting to film only the two of them for a show going on a long looked forward trip together. JK's "finally" says it all. Many talk about that car talk, I said what I had to say about it in this post:

They love to latch on to those few words, once again ignoring 8 chapters that show us exactly what they are to each other, not to mention JK's mentioning multiple times how he enjoyed the trips and in the last episode telling us these were the BEST trips of his life!!

**Oh, another side note (if I'm already at it): Another thing people tend to forget is that what we got is the tip of the iceberg of their trips. There are hours of footage they spent together we didn't get to see, not to mention hours they spent together with the cameras off (we saw that they did have control at times over the cameras, if to have the turned on or off). What about their Tokyo time together, which we never got to see of? And if I'm already mentioning this, then I feel the need, once again, to mention that what we get to see on camera or even through sightings of sorts once in a while, is NOTHING compared to what we don't see of their lives. The assumptions made by so many that they don't spend time together during these times is mind boggling to me. Even more so when we KNOW otherwise from little glimpses we get, like: JK talking to himself off camera (yeah, you think that was not on purpose?) that JM changed the angle of his mood lamp; JK telling JM as naturally as can be that he'll get his toiletries together and come have a shower at his place (like he doesn't live minutes away from him and can't shower at his own place); JM spending time with JK the night he got back from LA , JK cooking him dinner, not sleeping all night, only to leave on their Jeju trip together the next day; JK having the code to the apartment at nine one allowing himself in like it's his own place... just a few examples...

Enough with side notes and back to Jikook changing.

Yeah, that car talk is something they love to bring up time and time again. All while ignoring the abundance of moments that show oh so very clearly just how much JM and JK are so very much the same two people that are still so very much together.

The loud naughty moments

The playful/ fun/ also a little naughty moments

The you are me I am you moments

Butt hitting, hair pulling

The JK mesmerised by JM moments

The soft intimate moments.

The soft "I'm there for you" moments.

The caring moments

The JK cooking FOR JM moments

The "I have no straight explanation for this" moments

Basically that whole hot tub/ cold tub episode was just....

There was so so much more, my image limit is done and dusted. I'm visualising a series of posts (needs to be a series because of this silly image limit) for these moments... all the above (seeing that these were just a few examples among many more instances) plus more more more, like the teasing and so very couplie "I will do the thing I know will get a kick out of you because I know you oh so very much" moments as well (just posted my AYS masterlist, but also, go watch the show again!!).

And yes, the bickering and sarcastic moments too, cause babe, there ain't no long term relationship without all of those. It's a package. It's real life people, not a scripted drama.

If you can't be real with the person you love, if you can't show them not only when you are happy and content but also when you are unhappy, including with them, then that is not a healthy happy relationship.

I sometimes feel like those who won't see Jikook for what they are and what they have are driven by fear. Fear of a same sex couple is a huge one, but not only. Fear of what a healthy relationship is. Fear of never having that kind of a relationship would also be up there. Fear of what a long term relationship is - this idea that a relationship has to be static and intense and not understanding that the safety and comfort and ordinary day to day existence doesn't take away from the love you have for each other, nor the passion, quite the opposite.

And for those that don't get that, I feel a little sad, seeing that their expectations of a relationship are unrealistic or toxic.

I will end with this making it super clear:

JM and JK may have changed over the years. Their relationship has progressed and changed over the years as relationships do.

What they mean to each other, what they are to each other remains unchanged.

[daizedndconfused]

do you have any cole relationship headcanons? hope your schoolwork is going smoothly :D

a/n: do i have cole relationship head cannons?? buckle up my friend home girl has got ideas to share. hahaha also tysmm (can you tell i hate school lmao) i’m struggling out here fr 😭 one more week and i’m free!!! btw—last one is slightly suggestive. sooo barely but still.

cole relationship headcannons

one of his love languages is 100% quality time. he doesn’t care what you’re doing tbh you don’t even have to talk to him he just likes being near you. like when he’s working out he’ll sometimes use you as a bench press usually just for fun but he wants you to feel included in his routine. or if he’s doing pushups he’ll ask you to sit on his back and help count his reps for him. lucky for you he’s trapped and therefore you can rant to him as much as you want. he loves it ofc and he’s always interested in what to have to say

he almost never sleeps without you. throughout your entire relationship you can count the days you’ve actually slept by yourself on one hand. sure the two of you will always start in your own rooms, but at some point throughout the night you’ll either migrate to his room or vice versa. youll always bid each other good night confident you’ll wake up alone the next morning, but then you feel a dip in your mattress and suddenly cole’s got his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck. oh well. maybe tomorrow night.

he’s very protective. cole’s a tall guy if you read my fics yk what i mean. he’s tall and he’s strong, one look at him can tell you that. since you guys live in the city there’s always gonna be that one creep. normally if the guy just catcalls you as you two walk by, he waits a second for you to deal with it yourself. if you decide to call the guy out he’s holding back a laugh knowing the guy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you while cole’s standing right behind you. however if you’re not confrontational like that, and you’re okay with it, he’ll say something snarky in return but neither of you stop walking. if you tell him to leave it alone and ignore the guy he will—but he'll throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you closer to him just in case.

hates scary movies. he loves you—more than life itself but he will never watch a horror movie with you. hell no. he’s scared of ghosts and everything adjacent irl he’d rather die than watch a movie about them. you always poke fun at him and call him a wuss but no matter the peer pressure—your boy is stubborn. call him a sissy all you want he does not care he will not watch insidious with you. whenever you bring up the topic he either walks away pretending to be on the phone or he kisses you until you forget about it. sometimes you joke about it just for the second option ;)

gives you cute nicknames. we’re all well aware some pet names are cringey and you gotta be strategic about them. for cole his go tos are ‘gorgeous’ ‘my gorgeous girl’ and ‘honey/hun’ seeing as they’re simple and cute. however, he has a few cheesier/sentimental ones. when he’s feeling really lovey dovey he calls you ‘sugar’ or ‘sweet thing’. most of the time he uses sweet thing as a greeting/joke. for example on your days off you’re normally up before him and will go make some breakfast for the both of you. of course, the ninja he is, he’ll sneak up behind you wrap his arms around you and go “morning sweet thing, what’s for breakfast?” you jump nearly five feet out of your skin every time and he dies laughing even as you swat at him with a dish towel

he can never find his clothes. the reason behind this is you. you steal them all the damn time. at this point you have half his wardrobe at your disposal. his clothes just fit so comfy and they smell like him and you love it. one day he was looking for one of his band tees and he quite literally looked everywhere. eventually he gave up and walked back to his room—only to find you cuddled up on his bed with one of his throw blankets, and wouldn’t you know it…wearing the shirt he’d been looking for. he’ll just roll his eyes with a love sick expression and grab a different one. he only says something when he only has like three outfits left in his closet. you reluctantly hand them over—but the secret reason behind him letting you keep them that long is because once he gets them back they smell like you. every once in a while he’ll get a whiff of your perfume still stuck to his clothes and he gets all giddy as if you two just started dating.

you guys are the parental couple. after a few months of dating—you guys were branded the parental/chill couple by the rest of the team. usually if one of your teammates were doing something dumb in your presence either you or cole would tell them to knock it off. of course they don’t listen but they will take their antics elsewhere. the two of you are so low maintenance together that every time you’re together it feels like a date—doesn’t matter what you’re doing

your sparring matches get a little heated. if the rest of the team is around you keep it professional, but on the offhand you two are alone?? it’s fair game. it’s less sparring and more verbal chirping and then maybe some added combat. before you two spar—you place a bet. it can be anything (reasonable ofc) but the first person to pin the other for three seconds wins. you two fight dirty. not in dirty hits but every time you think you’re losing, you trail your hands up his torso and kiss his neck passionately. that normally gives you a split sec of hesitation on his part and you’re able to flip him over, pinning him beneath you as you win again. he’ll pretend to hate it but you see right through him.

[cafelattaes]

beat you at your own game | hrj

summary: y/n has a crush on renjun, who's not that great with people. despite his standoffish nature, she makes an effort to be friendly. but things take a twist when she starts to ignore him.

pairing: renjun x fem!reader

genre: college au, fluff, angst

word count: 3.5k

huang renjun, how exactly would you describe him? well, for starters, he can be a bit cranky. he's all about having his own space, not a fan of dragging things out, and gets things done in a flash. he’s also straightforward and not afraid to speak his mind. people have mixed feelings about him because of it. but oddly enough, it only adds to his charm, making people naturally drawn to him, much to his 'i'd-rather-not' demeanor.

needless to say, you just had to develop a crush on someone who’s the total opposite of you. you’re a people-pleaser; you’d much rather say things that would please others than express your genuine thoughts. confrontations make you uncomfortable, and you lean towards making excuses for those who hurt you on purpose. you also always try to avoid conflicts as much as you can and resort to suffering in silence instead. you're trying to change these aspects of yourself, but since you grew up having these traits, breaking free can be a bit hard. still, you're working on it.

you never intended to let renjun know about your feelings, but your friends were determined to embarrass you whenever he was around, constantly teasing you. it didn't help that despite not being close to renjun and his group, some of them were friends with your close friends, so they eventually joined in poking fun at your crush. one day, you decided to dismiss their incessant teasing and initiated a friendly conversation with renjun. at first, he responded out of courtesy. you weren't stupid though; you could tell that renjun was clearly fed up with his friends and wanted nothing to do with their antics.

he began to dislike being associated with you, offering only short responses and not acknowledging your presence more than necessary. you didn’t pay it much mind, since getting close to him wasn't your original goal. your aim was to ease the awkwardness and shed the embarrassment that accompanied your interactions. you happened to share some classes with renjun, coincidentally, those were the ones where both your friends weren't around. sitting next to him became a default habit, as he was the only familiar face in those particular classes.

one morning, you found yourself running late for your 8am class, prompting you to dash before your professor arrived. you accidentally collided with renjun, who happened to be holding an iced coffee. to your horror, more than half of the drink ended up spilling onto his shirt.

“oh my god, renjun, i’m so sorry!” you looked at him in fear, and it took everything in him to remain calm.

“why are you running around a busy hallway?”

“i’m really, really sorry. i’m late for my first class and i didn’t think i’d bump into anyone.” renjun let out an annoyed sigh.

“whatever.”

“wait!” you started rummaging through your bag to bring out some alcohol and wipes. “do you need them?”

“no, thank you.” he tried to walk past you, but you caught his arm.

“what about the stain?”

“i have a spare shirt. can you let me go now? i thought you said you were late.”

“shoot, you’re right. i’m sorry again, i promise i’ll make it up to you!” you shouted as you ran.

“please don’t,” he grumbled.

later on, you found renjun at the library working on your assignments. you sat quietly next to him and began doing your own. he didn’t spare you a look and just carried on with his work. you spent a few hours completing them, and both of you got it done at the same time. as you got up to gather your things, you spoke to the boy beside you.

“renjun, do you have anything to do after this?”

“no.”

“there’s this new diner that just opened up nearby. do you want to check it out? my friends have prior commitments, and i wanted to make it up to you for spilling your coffee earlier.” you already knew he was going to refuse, but it wouldn’t hurt to still ask.

“sorry, i’ll have to pass. i need to get home quickly.” you nodded in understanding and smiled at him.

“no biggie. take care on your way home!”

“thanks,” he simply said before leaving.

“so, what's the deal with you and y/n?" jaemin asked in a teasing tone. "any progress? are you going out already?” renjun scowled.

“shut up. i want her to back off, honestly.”

“you want everyone to back off.” jaemin pointed out.

“yeah, but most especially y/n.”

jaemin's eyebrows knitted together. “uh, why do you sound so annoyed with her?”

“because she's annoying. i turned her down multiple times, but she can’t take a hint. nothing’s worse than someone who forces themselves on others.”

“relax, man. aren't you being a bit harsh? you’ll see that she’s nice if you give her a chance.”

“what exactly is nice about her being fixated on me? this is mostly your fault, you know. if you guys weren’t such busybodies, she wouldn’t be so pushy.”

you quietly slipped away, making sure they hadn't noticed you. a single tear rolled down your cheek before you could stop it. it wasn't every day you heard someone openly express their dislike for you, and coming from the person you were supposed to like, it stung even more. you never meant to force yourself into renjun's space or push for a connection that clearly wasn't there. maybe it was time to face reality and let go of your feelings for him. it would be better for both of you in the long run to avoid any more awkward moments and misunderstandings.

renjun had grown accustomed to spotting you in your regular seat during your shared class. however, he was met with surprise when he noticed you had moved to a vacant seat considerably distant from your usual spot next to him. he was a bit confused at first, but chose not to dwell on it. he also noted that you didn't notice his entrance into the room, as you were engrossed in some task.

you continued to maintain a distance in your next classes with renjun. he was uncertain if you were oblivious to his presence or deliberately avoiding acknowledgement, given the lack of glances his way. he found it a bit strange that you refrained from initiating any form of interaction, but he didn’t mind. he thought he felt better. at least, for now.

however, renjun was not expecting your odd behavior to persist. it brought another surprise when you ignored him again the following day. even when your eyes accidentally locked for a second, you quickly averted your gaze. renjun wasn’t sure if you really didn’t see him or were just pretending not to. you weren’t wearing your glasses, and your eyesight wasn't the best. but even if you did ignore him on purpose, he didn’t mind… or did he?

it’s been a while since you stopped talking to renjun. at first, he thought he felt a sense of relief, thinking it gave him some space. but after a week, he was confused about why you suddenly stopped. the following week, he could feel his stomach churning seeing you leave class, secretly hoping you’d look back. then, the week after that, he felt a wave of anger because there were more than a few times he bumped into you purposely to get you to talk to him, but you did not utter any word other than a quiet apology. now, nearly a month later, he started to feel dejected because no matter what he did, you always acted like he wasn't even there. renjun wasn’t sure what he did wrong to make you so determined in avoiding him completely.

“renjun’s going through 5 stages of grief,” jaemin said with a smirk.

“what are you talking about?” haechan looked at him in confusion.

“y/n’s been ignoring him for a month.”

“WHAT? WHY?” jaemin shrugged.

“no idea. we’re not close enough for me to ask.”

“what about jeno?”

“he doesn’t want to pry.”

“maybe she got tired of renjun’s grumpy attitude,” chenle piped up.

“could be,” jaemin turned to the boy in question. “look at him, he’s miserable.”

“shut up,” renjun muttered in discontent.

“stop provoking him. it’s his first heartbreak,” chenle taunted, making renjun roll his eyes at their ridiculousness.

“you know you could just talk to her right? ask what’s going on?”

“if she wanted to talk, she would’ve reached out to me by now,” renjun said flatly. his friends could only shake their heads in disapproval.

“don’t be stupid.”

“and i’m begging all of you to mind your own business.”

“if you keep this up, you’ll end up in a situation you can’t fix.”

haechan nodded vigorously. “yeah, don't say we didn't warn you!”

you kept quiet about what you had overheard from renjun in the last month, choosing not to share the details with your friends. you figured they would eventually notice renjun's absence from your life, and when they finally asked you about it, you dismissed their probing questions. you casually informed them that your crush on him had simply faded after getting to know him better. you were quite good at making believable lies, they were convinced by it and dropped the topic quickly.

unexpectedly, renjun sought you out in an empty classroom to confront you about your sudden disconnection. you looked like a deer caught in headlights when you realized who had just entered, walking in long and quick strides to your direction. in your mind, you were already conjuring up excuses to explain yourself.

“why are you ignoring me?” his question broke the silence, leaving you with no room to escape.

so much for attempting to evade this confrontation.

you took a moment to gather your thoughts, unsure how to respond. you tried to conceal your distress as renjun stared down at you while waiting for you to talk. it seemed like he was determined to stand his ground, expecting you to tell him the truth. with a frustrated sigh, you finally spoke up.

“i’m just staying out of your way,” you said after a moment of silence.

“yeah, so why?” his voice was demanding, it ticked you off a little.

you questioned why you were initially afraid of renjun confronting you and why you bothered coming up with excuses. after all, it wasn't his place to interrogate you when you were simply doing what he seemed to want from the start.

“i don’t know why you’re asking. isn’t that what you want? you should be happy.” you began to gather your things so you can leave, but you heard him speak again.

“i never told you to avoid me. if you have a problem with me, just say it.”

“you're right, you never told me directly. you just told other people.”

“what are you talking about?” you turned to face him.

“renjun, i don’t get you. you push me away, you're openly annoyed by me, and you tell everyone you want me gone. now that i’m doing exactly that, you’re still upset with me? what’s your problem?”

renjun ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what's going on."

“fine. last month, i was passing by the library and i overheard you talking to your friends. you were complaining about how i couldn't take a hint and how you wanted me to leave you alone.” renjun looked a bit puzzled at first. when you were about to walk away, his eyes widened in realization.

“no, y/n, i’m so sorry. i didn't really mean what i-“ you shook your head lightly.

“don’t be. you were completely right, and i’m not even angry about it. i just don’t want to do anything with you anymore.”

“please, listen," renjun said, his voice urgent. "i blurted out those things in the heat of the moment. i regret it, especially now that i know you heard what i said… it's just- it’s not how i really feel about you."

“it’s okay, renjun. i didn’t tell you all of this to get an apology. i’m only telling you why i’m doing what i’m doing, like you asked, and to make it clear that i’m done.” as you turned to leave, renjun stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“hear me out, alright? i was being overly sensitive back then. my friends were pushing my buttons, and i didn't know how to handle it so i lashed out. i treated you unfairly and you didn’t deserve any of that. a month without you made me realize a few things. i had to confront what i really want and face some truths i'd been avoiding."

he paused, studying your face before continuing. “i miss spending time with you, y/n. and... well, i realized i've got feelings for you, more than i thought. it never crossed my mind that you'd actually distance yourself and it hit me hard. the idea of losing you if you choose to walk away made me lose my mind.”

your heart raced as he spoke, and his confession stirred up a mix of emotions. your confusion lingered, but you decided to reason through it, pushing aside the sincerity in his eyes as you gave him a skeptical look.

“are you… getting your feelings confused with something else? did you consider that maybe your mind is playing tricks on you and making you think you like me because you're used to others chasing after you?”

renjun winced, trying to ignore the implied criticism. it was a struggle for him to open up about his feelings, only for the girl he liked to question it and suggest that he couldn't understand his own emotions.

“i wouldn't be here asking why you've been avoiding me and opening up like this if i hadn't thought it through." he said quietly. "it might be hard to believe right now, but if you give me a chance, i can prove it to you."

“i don’t think this is a good idea,” you said, watching his face fall. he felt lost, trying to find the right words to convince you. taking a deep breath, he gently placed his hands on your shoulders, meeting your eyes.

“please, just give me a chance to make things right. i feel like i've wasted so much time.” the desperation in his voice was clear. still skeptical, you removed his hands as they fell down to your arms.

“i’ll think about it,” you said, turning to walk away, leaving a lingering sense of uncertainty in the air.

renjun’s friends had been observing him for a few days, and he’s become unusually quiet. they contemplated asking him what’s wrong, but they wanted to give him some space. it was glaringly obvious that something was bothering him, and he didn’t want to talk about it. jeno couldn't help but express his concern.

"renjun, you've been awfully quiet lately. everything alright?"

"yeah, i'm fine. just dealing with some stuff." jeno and jaemin exchanged knowing glances.

"we're here whenever you're ready to talk." jaemin assured, patting his back.

he had been feeling down since your conversation days ago. your words had been weighing on his mind and creating an internal turmoil. the fact that you continued to ignored him in all your classes didn't offer much comfort. renjun couldn't help but cast a longing look in your direction whenever he saw you. he wondered if there was a way to make things right, or if he had to live with the consequences of his past actions.

meanwhile, his confession has been replaying in your mind. the idea of him reciprocating your feelings caught you off guard; it was something you never saw coming. after some contemplation, it became apparent to you that renjun really felt apologetic and was filled with remorse. could it be that he genuinely likes you? even if that was the case, you're still unsure whether it's the right move to start something with him.

maybe i should stop overthinking this.

you took a deep breath before releasing a loud sigh, unaware that the boy who had been occupying your thoughts, stood right in front of you.

“y/n,” you looked up to see renjun. you waited for him to speak, but it seemed like he was having a mental struggle, debating whether to say what was on his mind. he mustered up the courage to ask if you were willing to give him a chance. staring at him with an unreadable expression, he didn't know how to interpret the situation. was it a bad time to talk?

“why?” you finally asked. although renjun was hesitant, he answered.

“i was wondering if you already thought about what i said? i mean… i can wait if you need more time.”

“if i say no, are you going to leave me alone?” your heart sank a little when his face fell.

he took a moment before responding. his voice barely above a whisper. “if that’s what you want... i guess i would have to."

“renjun,” you said, causing him to look up.

“yeah?”

“let’s give it a try.” his expression became hopeful.

“really?”

“yes," you nodded. "you said you liked me back, i'm choosing to believe that for now. just... don't let me down."

“i won’t," he promised, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

before you could react, renjun pulled you into a warm embrace. you found yourself returning the hug, allowing yourself to relax in his arms.

"thank you for giving me a chance," he murmured, his words muffled against your hair but filled with sincerity.

“i’m happy for them, really," giselle said, eyeing you and renjun across the room. "but watching those two make heart eyes at each other is sickening."

chenle snorted. "this is nothing. you should see renjun at the dorm."

the group's attention snapped to him. "oh?" karina prompted.

“let's just say personal space is not in his vocabulary anymore."

“huh… i would've expected y/n to be the clingy one."

“yeah, no. but i guess it makes sense, considering how he acted before."

giselle and karina exchanged amused glances, intrigued by the dynamic between you and renjun.

"amazing what a change of heart can do," jaemin mused.

karina nodded, a hint of approval in her voice. "guess he learned his lesson."

the group watched you and renjun for a moment longer, a mix of amusement and fondness in their expressions. it was clear that renjun had undergone a significant change in the way he acts toward you, transforming his initial aloofness to this new, affectionate version of himself.

“i have the dorm to myself this weekend.” renjun said, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

you raised an eyebrow. “and what exactly are you suggesting?”

“you know…” he trailed off, his look suggestive.

“i’m studying for finals," you replied flatly.

“exactly. i find myself more productive when i’m with you.”

“right. because we get so much done when we study together."

“don't you want my hugs and kisses?” he pouted.

“not when i’m trying to pass my classes.”

“i'll behave, i promise.”

“you always say that. i don’t believe you anymore.” renjun's pout deepened. cute.

“maybe i wouldn't be so clingy if you paid more attention to me. you’re always busy, you don’t have time for your boyfriend.”

“renjun, unlike you, i have to put in extra effort to get good grades. i’m not as smart as you are.”

“excuses.” he mumbled.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling. “you’re so adorable,” you cooed, giving him a quick peck. “i never imagined you to be the clingy type.”

“baby, there's a lot of things you don’t know about me.” he said, his voice lowering.

“oh? like what?”

he leaned in close. “like how great i am with my hands."

your eyebrows shot up. "is that so?"

“yeah. apparently, i give one heck of a shoulder massage,” he finished with a grin.

you burst out laughing at his endearing silliness. the sound of your laughter made renjun pause. he watched you, a soft smile spreading across his face. suddenly, he felt an overwhelming surge of happiness. taking your hand gently in his, he pressed a kiss to your fingertips, capturing your attention and prompting you to look at him.

"you make me feel the happiest," he said softly. "i love you."

your heart skipped a beat, the euphoria of hearing those three words from him for the first time washing over you. it hit you then - this unexpected journey with renjun had led you somewhere you never imagined. he, too, held the key to your happiness.

“i love you too," you whispered back.

you closed the distance between you two and your lips met his. as he wrapped an arm around your waist, you let yourself fall to his embrace, deepening the kiss.

renjun was met with the realization that while you fell for him first, he descended later, but with an intensity that surpassed a thousand falls.

[haikyu-mp4]

Overlooked – Nishinoya x reader wc 799 – f!reader, brother!Atsumu, brother!Osamu

Family functions at the Miya household were already causing quite a ruckus, and adding one Nishinoya to the mix was bound to make things rowdier.

You were lounging in the living room, catching up with some family before dinner and making sure that everyone had been properly introduced to Nishinoya. Introducing him as your boyfriend made you grin with pride, but you could only ignore your brother’s gaze for so long.

Not Osamu, he was in the kitchen helping your parents prepare dinner like the angel he is (he’s stealing the food).

“That sounds like so much fun, you guys,” Atsumu cooed after you finished telling your aunt about you and Nishinoya’s most recent journey to New Zealand. “I wish I could live without goals or ambitions, it sounds so freeing. Just travellin’ until ya run out of money.”

Even as you pinned the blonde with an angry look, he completely ignored you in favour of leaning towards your boyfriend.

“It’s too bad ya decided to stop playing volleyball. Ya used to have some potential.”

“Tsumu,” you warned.

Nishinoya squeezed your hand which he had intertwined with his, lifting the other to point cheekily at Atsumu. “Bet you were relieved I wouldn’t be in the league to receive your new hybrid serves.”

“Relieved?” Atsumu huffed in annoyance at your boyfriend’s positive turn. “Would have loved to see that terrified look on yer face again.”

Instead of giving Atsumu the kind of discussion he wanted, and before you could even retaliate on his behalf, Nishinoya turned his approach to the rest of the family members in the room with a bright look in his eyes. “Atsumu and I played against each other in high school and it was one of the first times a serve had me genuinely worried. Luckily, my team had my back when I needed them.”

“Not exactly how I would’ve told that story, but…” You drove your elbow hard into your brother’s side.

Needless to say, Nishinoya had your whole family charmed despite Atsumu’s continuous attempts at undermining his efforts.

Still, you felt the need to address this. He’s your baby brother, after all.

“Hey,” you greeted Atsumu later that evening, in the privacy of the small children’s bench by the old volleyball net in the backyard. “What’s botherin’ ya, buddy?”

He looked down at where he picked some dry skin from his arm, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothin’.”

You smiled. This was exactly what you expected. With an encouraging hum, you scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Come ooon, tell your big sis.”

Atsumu sighed, taking a couple more seconds but eventually opening up. “It‘s just… no one here cares that I’m literally a professional volleyball player,” he said first, taking a quick break to confirm that you wouldn’t laugh at him.

“What makes ya think that?”

“It’s always Osamu and his successful restaurants, y/n and her great travels, and now…”

You hummed, glancing over at where you could see Osamu and Nishinoya talking animatedly inside, sharing a plate of leftovers from dinner. “You feel overlooked?”

With his little sniff, you knew you had struck the right chord. “Mhm.” You picked your head up, slinging an arm over his shoulder and shaking him a bit.

“I can’t really speak for the rest of the family, but you know me and your brother are your biggest fans, right?“

He didn’t answer, but you knew he was listening from his affirming nods.

“Sure, we already knew you would play professionally after high school. And yes, we already knew you would get an offer with the team you wanted because you’re just that good.”

You felt satisfied with the ego boost you had given him and ruffled his hair roughly.

“But you don’t need to punch down at my supercool boyfriend!”

Atsumu cursed at you in complaint, pushing you away way too lightly for it to make you move. You giggled loudly, a big fan of how like himself Atsumu still was.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Think we could still get along?”

You snorted, pointing a thumb over your shoulder. “Oh, Yu? He thinks you’re the coolest, he got us all new merch for your next game.”

Atsumu’s eyes welled with tears, something nostalgic washing over him and urging him to crush you in a hug. “I’ll dedicate my best serve to him!”

You groaned in complaint but didn’t fight the squish. “Good to see ya back on track, ya big baby.”

“What’s he cryin’ for now?” Osamu yelled from the door, so you and Atsumu simultaneously flipped him off. “Fine, just know ma’ pulled out yer baby album for Noya!”

“Shit,” you cursed, getting up and gesturing for Atsumu to follow. “Come on, stop whining.”

“Yer so mean to me.”

“It’s good for ya.”

masterlist

requested by dearest @cottonlemonade for my event, anything for you <3

[randominchident]

from friends to this (possessive edition)

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. max verstappen x reader ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

you and max have been friends as long as you can remember, it takes a redbull engineer asking you out for you both to realise you want to be something more.

this is an alternate ending to my already posted fic (which can be found here) featuring a more possessive, passionate reveal. the beginning remains the same, the star divide indicates the beginning of the plot change…

You couldn’t remember the exact day you two had become friends. It was some day in middle school, you were sure of that. But the details had blurred over the years. It felt like you had always known each other.

Max has always been in your life.

You have always been in his.

Sitting in each other’s orbits just felt natural—though entirely platonic. That was the part others struggled to understand.

It was laughable the amount of times waiters had brought candles to your dinner table, 'for the mood', assuming the two of you were on a date. You'd stop correcting them after the third time it happened. Besides, it was fun to laugh about. To joke about how much you'd annoy each other if you really were a couple.

"You snore like a bear," you said, laughing over a glass of red wine, "I pity your future girlfriend."

"Doesn’t seem to bother you too much."

“For a free hotel room, I’ll put up with anything.”

He laughed.

After all these years of sporadically sharing hotel rooms, late night drives, unlimited paddock passes and crude jokes—you two had stayed simply good friends.

Until things started to shift. Slowly. Subtly. So gently that neither of you really noticed.

It was Free Practice.

Rain had settled over the city days ago and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. The paddock was chaos—engineers scrambling to keep tires warm, trainers trying to keep drivers from catching colds.

Max stood calm in the middle of it all. He was always in the rain. You watched him, helmet in hand, exchanging quiet words with GP. It was always a strange sort of magic, how he could look so at home in the storm—like it was made for him.

You smiled to yourself.

He’d be fine today.

“So, how long have you been together?”

The voice broke you from your thoughts.

You blinked, turning to find Marcus—one of the newer engineers—looming beside your seat. Tall, a bit cocky, but charming in a way that probably worked for him.

“What?” you asked, unsure if you’d misheard.

“You and Max. Been together long?”

You snorted. “Oh. No. We aren’t together. Just friends, y’know?”

It wasn’t the first time someone has misunderstood your relationship with Max. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time someone from Red Bull had made the mistake. Marcus glanced back toward Max, then returned his gaze to you with a slow smirk.

“Damn. And here I thought I had no chance.” He grinned. “You free tonight? I’d love to take you for a drink.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Your brain fumbled for an excuse, but none came fast enough.

“Sure,” you found yourself saying. “Why not.”

Barely a few minutes later, Max is by your side, throwing a tyre blanket over you to keep warm.

“It’d be unfortunate if you died of hypothermia before you saw me win on Sunday.”

“Yeah, what would you do without your only supporter cheering in the crowd?” You joked, burrowing into the blanket and sighing from the sudden warmth.

“I’d be lost without you,” he said, mock-solemnly. But there was a warmth in his voice that caught you slightly off-guard.

Max had told you to wear an extra jacket this morning. You had ignored him. He was pretty smug about it, but it didn’t stop him from trying to warm you up—even going as far as to offer his own jacket. As if he wasn't also standing out in the cold.

“Dinner tonight?” He asked, sipping on his water bottle and moving to sit beside you.

“Uh, I’ve got plans actually.”

Max raised an eyebrow, stilling slightly. “Plans? With who?”

“Marcus,” you answered, feeling a strange knot form in your stomach. “He just asked me out for drinks.”

“Oh.”

Max didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze flickered briefly to Marcus, eyes cold and stiff, before returning to you. His mouth opened and closed again, trying to think of what to say. There was something unreadable in his expression.

“Just then?” he asks. You nod, he nods back. The air around you feels tense in a way you cannot explain.

Max doesn’t say anything else after that—just sits there beside you, jaw clenched, sipping his water in silence like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the present moment. You’re not sure what you expected. A joke, maybe. A casual tease. But the usual playfulness between you has gone oddly still, like the storm has seeped into both of you, soaking deeper than skin.

The next time you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. And when your eyes meet, there’s something in his gaze that you’ve never seen before.

Something you don’t know how to name.

Later, back at the hotel, you’re standing in front of the mirror in the outfit you picked out for drinks. It's simple but flattering—your go-to when you actually want to feel like someone might look at you and think you’re beautiful. You smooth your hands over your hips, frown a little, and reach for a necklace. You’re dressed. You said yes. It’s just drinks. Nothing serious. So why do you feel like you're waiting for something else to happen?

A knock pulls you from your thoughts.

You open the door.

It’s Max.

He doesn’t say anything at first—just steps in like he always does, gaze flicking around the room and then landing on you. He stops short.

You swear you hear him swear under his breath. Just faintly. His eyes begin to roam, dragging down the length of your figure, slow and deliberate. Not in the playful, mocking way you're used to.

In a way that burns.

“You’re really going out with him?” Max asks, voice low.

The amusement dies in your throat. “We’re just getting a drink.”

"You're not seriously wearing that," he says, tone flat.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him with an eyebrow raised. “What’s wrong with it?”

Max steps closer. His eyes travel slowly again—too slowly—from your dipping neckline to your legs, then flicker up to meet your gaze. His jaw is still tense. He swallows hard.

“It’s fine. It perfect,” he says tightly. “Just... not for him.”

You blink. “Max—”

“Do you even like him?” he interrupts, arms crossed over his chest. “Marcus? You barely know him.”

Your stomach flips. “It’s just drinks. Not a proposal.”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile.

And then—quietly, almost too softly to hear—he says, “You know I can’t let someone else have you, right?”

The world tips sideways.

You stare at him. “What?”

Max steps closer, just enough to brush your arm as he reaches out to take the necklace from your hand. He doesn’t put it on you. Just holds it, turning the delicate chain over in his fingers like it’s fragile.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it,” he says, still looking at the necklace. “Telling myself we’re just friends. That it’s always been that way. But then I saw you say yes to him, and I—”

Before you can interject, he keeps rambling on.

“He doesn’t know how you take your coffee, or that you fall asleep to rain sounds, or that you always bite your straw when you're nervous. He doesn’t know you hum when you're thinking. Or that you cry during the same scene every time you watch your favourite movie. Even though you've seen it a hundred times.”

Your throat tightens. “Max—”

“He doesn’t get to know those things. I do.”

He finally looks up, and the weight in his eyes knocks the air from your lungs.

“I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

The silence stretches, the room suddenly far too small.

You take the necklace back from him, set it down, and say softly, “Then tell me what you do want.”

His voice cracks around it: “You. All of you.”

He takes a step forward, close enough now that your breath stutters.

“I want to be the one you dress up for. The one who gets to take you out. The one you laugh with over drinks. The one you share hotel rooms with... because you want to wake up next to me.”

You whisper, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

His hand finds yours.

“Because I didn’t think I had to.”

Your heart beats loud in your chest, echoing in your ears.

The words knock the breath from your lungs.

He steps closer again, until he’s right in front of you. The air shifts—thick with tension, history, every joke and late night and unspoken feeling neither of you ever named.

“I see you with someone else,” he says, quieter now, “and something in me just—snaps. It’s stupid, but it’s real. And I can’t pretend anymore.”

His fingers brush your arm, tentative.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” he says again. “I haven’t for a long time. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you.”

Your heart pounds.

“Then stop pretending,” you whisper.

And that’s all it takes.

Max surges forward—hand cupping your jaw, lips crashing into yours like it’s the first breath he’s taken all day. It’s not slow. It’s not careful. It’s desperate, like he’s been waiting forever and finally let himself have you.

You kiss him back without hesitation, hands in his hoodie, pulling him closer. His other arm wraps around your waist, grounding you to him like he’s afraid you might disappear. But the touch is heavy, like he knows it belongs there. On you. Holding you.

When you break apart, you're both breathing hard, foreheads resting together.

He laughs, soft and stunned. “Fuck. Took us long enough.”

You smile. “Guess everyone else was right.”

Max kisses you again, slower this time.

And you think—finally.

I hope you enjoyed this alternative version… I would love to know (if you read both) which you preferred!

[fluffylino]

what are your thoughts on primal/chase w Minho? Cause I can't seem to get it to leave my head and you always have such great thoughts so I wanted to share this

Feel free to ignore this tho if if it's not your cup of tea or for any reason rly 💙

hi hi anon

this was really fun to write. honestly ive been wanting to write something like this with minho but never really got any good ideas. hope you like it!

warning- mainly cnc and minho is pretty mean. (but we love it)

-contains mature themes

the hallways seemed like they would never end. would you ever escape him? your legs hurt from how fast you were running.

you could hear him. his footsteps growing louder and louder as he moved in closer.

you looked around. searching for somewhere to hide. anywhere. your eyes scanned the place.

a dressing room. it was far but it was reachable if you ran. so you did it. huffing, your heart racing. you opened the door, it was dark. at any other time you'd be scared of how dark the room was.

but now.

now, you had to hide.

you carefully shut the door. hands moving about to find any switch. a light switched on and you were surprised to see how clean it actually was.

you turned your back to the door. looking down at your feet, only to see a shadow on the floor.

"there you are, kitty"

your heart jumped with a start. how did he get in so fast?

minho shut the door behind him, arms reaching over to shove you firmly against the wall. there was no way you could get away.

"l-let me go" you screamed, trying to move out of his iron grasp. he pushed your head against the wall. your cheek squished and you struggled to even move.

these were the times you realised just how strong he actually was. and if he wanted to he could do anything he liked.

"no s-stop stop i-it" you said, as you felt him lift your skirt up. it was your favourite skirt. not to thick yet not too short.

"shut it. stop fussing" he hissed out, tugging your panties down. his fingers inching down. you wriggled around.

"a-ahh h-hurts it hurts" you cried out as he shoved his fingers deep into you.

so deep you felt a tinge of discomfort. you weren't wet enough to take three of his digits.

you whined, unable to even speak.

"you know you want it. relax kitten."

he mumbled into your ear, pulling his fingers out. you shivered at the loss.

"be a good kitty and get on your fours"

you shook your head. never.

"n-no i don't w-want it"

he let out an exasperated sigh behind you. a noise of surprise leaving you when he manhandled you. forcing you to the ground.

he maneuvered you. keeping your head pressed on the white floor. your back arched and ass up. skirt pushed up to expose you completely. embarassment was what you felt.

minho used his knees to keep your legs apart. you couldn't help it.

your cunt throbbing for something more. something bigger. something wet.

whereas your mind was all over the place. everything was happening so fast you didn't know if you were ready.

no prep. but this is what you and him had discussed much ahead of time.

consensual non consent. he could fuck you whenever he felt like it. regardless of whether you wanted it. and that made you feel some type of way.

his personal playtoy. your body belonging to him. him having complete control over you. the control part is what you loved.

"you say you don't want me but look at you" he let out, you could hear him take his belt of with one hand. his zipper being pulled down.

"arching your back for me, your leaking so much kitten. anyone would think you're a bitch in heat, presenting yourself to me"

you felt your eyes water. desperation.

"i-..i-" you stuttered, his grip on your hair so strong, you couldn't even lift your head up. your face smushed down.

"when are you going to accept it..shut up and take it"

your mouth dropped open. a pained whine escaping you as he entered you.

fuck, he was so big. you'd never get used to his size. and now with no lube, your thighs trembled at the discomfort. a heavy weight.

"ah-h m-minho hurts..p-paining" you cried out, body shaking at how stretched out you were. you were at your max.

"oh does it?" he asked, voice going low and condescending.

"still hurts?" your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he moved his hips. burying himself even deeper. this time not stopping his movements.

"accept it, kitten. you want me to fuck you full. to breed you" minho said, voice cracking as you still tried to adjust to him.

you squirmed as he held your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. choked out noises and whimpers leaving your parted lips.

"d-don't want your c-cum hnghh-"

your eyes shot open as he pulled out completely. you stayed extremely still. not knowing what was going to happen next. he mumbled an annoyed 'fine'.

"crawl." he said out lazily.

"come on im giving you a chance to walk away"

could you really believe him? you hesitated for a entire minute. unsure. until you rose to your elbows and slowly inched ahead.

your speed slowly increasing. that was till you were dragged back. his cock slipping back into your warm cunt with no effort.

"you really thought huh"

"your pussy is begging to be filled. your dripping onto the floor. so quit lying."

tears fell on the ground. everything felt so good. so real. so different.

"i'll make sure to pump you full of my cum until you can't take anymore. you take what im giving you"

his hips ramming into you. getting pushed forward with every animalistic thrust.

"n-no pull o-out...pull out p-please minho not in me" you cried out, shaking in his grasp. you wanted it. you wanted his cum.

"you cunt says otherwise. swallowing me fucking whole like its been starved"

he held you in place.

one particular hard thrust and you could feel him inside you. filling you up to the brim. your own cum mixing with his and leaking outside of your poor abused hole.

"ahhhh keep it all inside"

minho instructed, watching as you clenched. trying your best to keep all of him in. but you couldn't. sitting on his haunches watching how your pussy quivered at just how much had seeped out.

warm.

sticky.

your knees gave in and you fell completely on the floor. your breathing heavy.

minho shuffled around behind you. everything was beginning to set in. but minho was there. you knew he was going to take care of you.

"did so well for me, sweetheart"

[candylix]

one little lie | hyung line (part 3)

Pairing • FWB!Minho x Fem!Reader x Hyung Line

A/N • This is part 3! You can see the series masterlist here.

Summary • The boys have one rule in their shared apartment. Don't bring girls over for sex. So when Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin walk in on Minho fucking the living daylights out of you in the living room, he has to lie to save his own skin. His excuse? That's not a girl under him... you're a sex robot. And now they all want to try you out.

Genre • smut, sci-fi ish? (sex robots are a thing in this world that people know about and use)

WC • 2.9k

Content • reader pretends to be a sex robot, free use, dubcon, groping, dry humping, sexual comments, piv penetration (with feelings!), clit stimulation, orgasm denial, riding

Minho walks you out of the bathroom, and you arrive to the empty living room. Chan was definitely still recovering after what he just did, but where were the other two?

You sit on the couch, right in front of the coffee table that started it all. This would have been a completely different day if you fucked in his room instead. Maybe you would've had to try and sneak out of the apartment without being caught. That would've been thrilling.

But you have to admit, today was fun too.

You hear Minho's phone vibrate in his pants, and he takes it out to see who's texting him.

"Oh, it's Jisung. He says he's gonna be here very soon."

"Talking to the robot? I know you're lonely, but come on."

Hyunjin strolls into the room, wearing nothing but loose, cotton pajama pants. You freeze, eyes staring straight ahead. As soon as he sees you sitting pretty in the middle of the couch, he stops caring about whatever he was going to do, and makes his way towards you.

Minho's eyes furrow, but he ignores Hyunjin's teasing to text Jisung back.

Hyunjin takes a seat behind you, and snakes one hand under your shirt to fondle your boobs.

"Do we have to give her back?" he whines.

"Yes..." Minho says, and looks back up from his phone, only to see Hyunjin groping you like he wasn't even there. "Do you have to be doing that? Have some decorum."

"I literally saw you with your dick in her a few hours ago. You don't get to talk."

As if to spite Minho, he moves himself to sit behind you, and both his hands travel under your shirt and to your chest. He continues squeezing you, palms rubbing over your nipples until they poke out under his hands. He pulls and pinches them, and you try to suppress the noise you make, but a soft whimper slips out anyway. You feel something hard press against your lower back— he's turned on. You sit there as he fondles you, and his erection grows stiffer. Suddenly, you feel movement, and you realize Hyunjin has started rubbing his dick against you. He grinds his cock against your ass, slightly bouncing you up and down, and Minho just stares in silence at the scene unfolding in front of him. His own erection forms as he watches Hyunjin grope and dry hump you. Unconsciously, his hand lowers down to palm at his crotch.

Finally, Changbin walks in, and when he sees Hyunjin humping you on the couch, he kicks him out from behind you. Reluctantly, Hyunjin stops, and his hands come out from under your shirt. He moves to sit beside you once again.

"Do that in private, man. Gross."

"Well, Minho liked it," Hyunjin says, and Minho's cheeks flush.

"What? No! I was in shock! I can't believe you did that."

"Mmhm. Sure. Look where your hand is right now."

Minho looks down, and his eyes widen when he sees his hand mindlessly rubbing his bulge. He yanks his hand away, and you can see the huge mound that has formed.

"Both of you need help," Changbin says, and leaves for the kitchen.

A moment later, Chan walks in, and sees you on the couch.

"Oh, she comes with clothes?" he asks

"Of course she has clothes," Minho says pointedly, "I had to bring her here, and I'm not gonna be seen carrying a naked woman around with me."

"I don't know what you're into," Chan says, and walks to take a seat on the couch beside you. You're sandwiched between these two men, and Chan's hand lays itself on your thigh. Unlike Hyunjin, he doesn't go any further than that.

"He's into watching people fuck the sex robot," Hyunjin says, snickering at Minho's face getting progressively more red.

Chan's face drops. Apparently, it wasn't just 'bros helping bros' for Minho.

You hear someone pounding on the front door, startling everyone in the room, and saving Minho from this uncomfortable conversation. The door knob rattles frantically, but the door is locked, so whoever's there goes back to banging on the door.

Minho is more than happy to leave them and go open the door, and no one is surprised when Jisung reveals himself on the other side. He barrels into the apartment, almost pushing Minho down, and his eyes fix on you.

He swings his arm out to point at Chan.

"Get your nasty ass hand off of her, fiend!" he yells.

Chan raises his hands up, and Jisung points at Hyunjin next.

"And you. Put a shirt on!"

"This is literally my apartment," Hyunjin says, shrugging off Jisung's complaint.

Changbin runs back into the living room with a half empty water bottle, raised like a club.

"What the hell is that- oh. Hi, Jisung." He lowers down his improvised weapon.

"Hey," Jisung says calmly, as if none of that just happened.

"Here for your girlfriend?" Changbin asks, intending to make fun of him, but his words bounce off Jisung easily.

"Yes," he says, and turns to the men on the couch, "Now bring her to me!"

Chan and Hyunjin look at each other, look back to Jisung, and when he signals for them to come, they lift you up and walk you to him. Jisung gently grasps your shoulders, and looks into your eyes.

"Blink once if you're ok."

The two men standing behind you roll their eyes at his theatrics, unaware that you can and do respond. You blink, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Jisung holds you close to his chest, and looks back at the men in the room.

"Well, thanks for using my robot without permission. I definitely wanted you to do that," he says, fake annoyance in his voice.

"Not sorry," Changbin says, walking over to where the rest of you are standing. "She was great."

"Can you send me the link to the store? I want one for myself," Hyunjin asks.

"You can't buy these online," Jisung responds, not missing a beat.

Unlike Minho, Jisung is good at coming up with excuses that are actually believable. You've known him a long time; it's a skill he developed while asking for homework extensions and calling in sick to work.

"Oh," Hyunjin says, "is there a physical location I can go to?"

"No the store burnt down. It's closed forever," Minho says, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think. Jisung side-eyes him.

"Anyway, I gotta go now," Jisung interjects. He opens the door to leave, and Minho wraps an arm under you to walk you out.

"Bring her back sometime!" Chan yells out.

"No!" Jisung yells back, and closes the door.

When they're finally out in the hallway, Jisung smacks the back of Minho's head.

"Ow, what was that for!?"

Minho unwraps his hand from around you, and clasps the sore spot on his head.

"Everything," Jisung says. "Never try to lie again. You're terrible at it."

"Agreed," you say.

You walk back to Jisung's car. Minho takes the front seat, so you sit at the back while Jisung drives. Everyone sits in silence, not sure what to say after all that happened. You take this time to reflect. You know what a rational person would think about all this, but they've fucked the rationality out of you. All things considered, if Minho wanted to 'borrow' you again… you don't know that you'd be opposed.

"So…" Jisung starts, interrupting the silence. "Can I use the sex robot too?"

This time it was Minho's turn to smack him on the head.

"I was joking!" Jisung says defensively. Minho raises his hand again, and Jisung shields himself with his arm.

"Hide your boner before you say that," Minho responds.

"What? I'm not-" he glances down, noticing the tent springing up in his pants. "This is just because I love driving. Traffic is so sexy."

"God, you're so annoying. Why am I even friends with you?"

"Excuse me. I just saved your ass."

You laugh at your two friends bickering in the front seats. They can be stupid sometimes, but you're glad to have them around.

"Thank you, Jisung," you say, and they both quiet down.

"Thanks," Minho says softly.

You can see a smile form on Jisung's face in the rear view mirror.

"Don't mention it. I'll always be here for you both."

You finally arrive back home, and you hug Jisung goodbye. Minho walks with you into your apartment.

The first thing you do is collapse onto the couch. It was a long day, you're tired, and all you want to do is lie down.

"Come on, you need to wash up properly," Minho says, attempting to lift you up.

You don't budge. Minho gives up, and falls on top of you, squishing you under him.

"Hey!" you laugh, and you try to push him off, but he holds onto you.

"I thought we were laying down," he says, smiling as you struggle under him, until you finally manage to push him off. He rolls onto the floor, laying on his back. He looks up at you, and sighs.

"I'm sorry about all that. I should've just..."

"It's ok," you say, and he sits up.

"No, that was a shitty thing to do."

"Minho, really. I had fun."

His face finally softens up.

"Yeah, I could see that," he says, smirking. You throw a cushion at him.

"Don't give me that look. I saw you jerking yourself off in the living room."

He pauses.

"Fuck. They saw me do that. I'm never gonna live that down. And I didn't even get to cum," he says, collapsing back to the floor. "Why did they come home so early."

You feel bad for the guy. All his roommates got to fuck you, when the whole plan was for him to do it. You saw his dick bulging in his pants more times than you actually saw his dick today. He was probably horny as hell, but trying to keep it together.

His face is buried in his hands as he thinks about all the embarrassing things he did in front of his roommates.

You just wanted to tease him more.

"Yeah, I bet they're talking about it right now," you say. He groans. "I bet they're talking about how you helped Chan fuck me. How you bounced me on his dick and watched him cum inside me."

He squeezes his legs together. The teasing is working.

"I bet you wanted to watch the others too, right? You didn't get to see Hyunjin fucking himself on my boobs."

Minho moans, and you can tell he wasn't expecting it, because he turns to hide his face from you.

"And Changbin... he was so thick. He completely stretched me out. You should've seen the way he pounded into me. He could barely fit inside."

"You're killing me," Minho whispers.

"Remember what Jisung said in the car? I'm sure you would've loved to see him pull over and fuck me in the backseat-"

"Alright!" he shouts, interrupting you.

He suddenly stands up, with a massive protrusion in his crotch. Without warning, he pulls down your pants, and then his own, and you see his hard, leaking cock throbbing in front of you. He wastes no time climbing on top of you. He pulls off your shirt, and throws it across the room.

"You really want to see me horny, huh? Well guess what, it worked."

He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand. He did this after your time with Hyunjin, when he was wiping you down, but you don't think he'll be as gentle this time.

"Do you know how hard it was, seeing their cum all over you, and not fucking you then and there?"

At those words, you can feel yourself getting wet. You've never seen him like this before.

His free hand goes to his cock, positioning it at your entrance. He pushes it to your core, but doesn't put it in. It throbs against you, desperate and needy, and your pussy throbs with it.

"I was trying not to overwhelm you, but it looks like I should've just fucked you every time we went to the bathroom together."

He punctuates his sentence by ramming his cock in you. It hits you hard, and you can't help the moan that comes out.

"While I was waiting for you to finish, you were getting drunk on all their cocks, huh? You like getting fucked like a sex toy?"

He rams his dick inside you again, and you moan louder.

"I'll use you like one, then."

His hands move to your waist, and he thrusts into you, again and again, finally getting to fuck you after watching all his friends fuck you first. His bucking is desperate and frantic, and you barely have time to process the way his dick plows into you before it's taken out and slammed back in.

One hand moves to your clit, and you moan out his name as he rubs circles around it. You twitch under his touch, the stimulation from inside and out of your pussy leaving you unable to control yourself. He watches you writhe on the couch, brain turned to mush as he fucks you senseless.

How he feels is paradoxical— he liked watching you get fucked, but he needed you to want him more.

He leans over you, thrusting into you deeper, and grabs your boobs.

"Did you like it when Hyunjin did this?" he asks, and gives them a squeeze. You answer his question with a moan, and he kneads into your breasts. You can feel your orgasm growing as he continues bucking into you, and your nipples harden under his hands. He pulls your nipples when he thrusts into your g-spot, and you can feel yourself about to reach your climax.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan, and he immediately stops. You feel his dick slide out against your walls, and you whimper at the empty feeling he leaves you with. Your core aches from the loss of contact, throbbing as your orgasm slowly disappears.

"Not yet."

He carries you up from the couch, making you stand up while he takes a seat. His legs are slightly spread apart, and he holds his throbbing cock up, but it's so hard that it might as well be standing up on it's own.

"Sit down," he commands, and you waste no time climbing onto his lap. He guides you onto him, and you feel his cock fill you up as you lower yourself down. Soon, his entire dick throbs inside you, hot and stiff as it presses into a sensitive spot.

"I'll make you feel better than Chan did," he whispers, and a chill runs down your spine.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, licking on and around it, and he kneads your other boob with his hand. He rolls his hips into you, his free arm holding your waist to keep you steady, and you melt into the feeling. His cock pumps into you, slow at first, but he speeds up as his own need builds. Your head leans back as you feel your orgasm coming, and you buck into him. His dick hits you harder as you bounce into it, and he moans into your boob. He breaks away from your chest to watch you fuck yourself on his dick. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and you moan loudly when he bucks his hip forcefully into you.

His hips roll into you faster now, watching you moan and twitch on his lap. You can feel your orgasm come quickly, and one last thrust into your g-spot takes you over the edge. You feel his dick keep pounding into you as your walls clench, and you gush around his cock. The pressure on his dick, and moan that comes out of you, are enough to take him into his own orgasm. He bucks into you wildly, and you feel his hot liquid spurt out inside you as he moans your name.

He leans back into the couch in exhaustion. You're too tired to get yourself off him, so you grab his chest to hold yourself up.

He admires how you look, breathing heavily after being fucked, sitting on his lap with his cock still buried deep inside you. He could stay here forever with you like this.

"Who was better?" he asks, "Me, or them?" He rolls his hips into you, and you twitch from how sensitive you are.

"You," you say, still breathless from what just happened.

"Of course I am."

He helps you off of his lap, and you collapse onto the couch next to him.

"Still, if you want me to 'borrow' you again, let me know. I'm sure they'd love to see you again."

You're too tired to respond, so you just nod your head.

The atmosphere surrounding the rest of the evening is very warm. He cleans you up thoroughly, and you order takeout to eat for dinner. He puts on a movie, and you fall asleep on his shoulder halfway through. When the movie ends, he carries you to your bed and tucks you in. He considers leaving, but you look so comfortable, so instead he joins you under the covers and snuggles up to you. Soon, he falls asleep too.

He dreams of Jisung fucking you in the backseat of his car.

Here's what Jisung was up to during the events of the story

taglist:

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi @kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten

This is the end! Thanks for reading everyone! This was meant to be the end of the series, but a lot of people have asked for more, and I really enjoyed writing it, so eventually there will be more parts! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! For now, here's the series masterlist, and maybe by the time you see this I've already written more.

[bluejutdae]

best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Hyunjin x you

Chan , Minho, Changbin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin.

a/n: finally I managed to write the last part of this series, the Hyunjin part! There’s not much “saving” here because I had this dramatic idea in my head and I didn’t want to renounce to it. Enjoy!

The rain outside has been incessant for days, so many that it started to be difficult to recognize the time of the day just by looking at the sky. Everything it’s gray, and you almost forgot about this date. The guy is the cousin of one of your colleagues, and you would have canceled it if only you had a bit more hope. Not on this date, you know it’s gonna end up with you telling the guy it’s not the time for you for a relationship or some other fake excuse, you’ll apologize for wasting his time and the truth is: you do feel sorry for wasting his time, but staying home knowing Hyunjin is probably out there kissing his girlfriend and having fun made you a bit selfish. You ignored him for the last 5 days, after he called you at 2 am and you couldn’t help it but hope it meant something. But what would it mean? You’ll never know, cause you didn’t answer.

Your heartache clings to you like molasses, covers you head to toes, you can feel it under your teeth. You’re so used to it, it doesn’t scare you anymore. But it’s so tiring to wake up everyday and do the same routine: wear your clothes, slip in your shoes, put on your grief, grab your purse. Day after day.

The restaurant you’re having your date at is a nice one, you often order takeout from it. The only downside is that it doesn’t deliver home, so anytime you want its amazing food, you have to get out of your house and come collect it. It’s worth it.

Shivering in your cute top, you nod to something your date just said and reach for the wine glass. You have nothing in common with him, you barely remember his name. Was it Minjoon? Minhyun? Once again something distracts you from the conversation (it’s a monologue, at this point) when you hear your phone chime, signaling a message. And since love is blind, and most days it’s also stupid, you can clearly recognize the tune you use for Hyunjin and Hyunjin only.

You have been ignoring him, but you were sure he didn’t even notice. Ten minutes pass and you’re on the verge of just leaving the date, apologize profusely and go home to cry. The bell on the door chimes as someone enters and, once again not paying attention to the man in front of you, your eyes wanders to look at whoever enters. It could have been a couple grabbing dinner, it could have been parents celebrating their kid’s success, it could have been anyone. But just as love is blind, so is luck. Because it’s Hyunjin who just entered the restaurant, and it’s Hyunjin looking directly at you, eyebrows knit in a frown and a sour expression distorting his lips. You’re frozen in your seat, watching him shaking his head, speaking with a waiter, collecting his dinner and leaving. You can't have him leave like this. Something in your gut is telling you it’s now or never, if you let him go now, you might as well let him go forever. And you’re not ready for that.

In a blur of apologies and confused sentences you leave your share of money on the tablecloth and, grabbing your purse, you flee the restaurant. It doesn’t matter that you left your jacket on the back of your chair, it doesn’t matter that’s it’s pouring outside, it matters only your voice calling his name.

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t stop, keeps on waking under the rain, head down and fast steps. You start doing that awkward running walk, reaching to grab his wrist. This effectively makes him stop, but he looks displeased.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

“You’re on a date.” He frees himself from your grasp, almost like your touch burns him.

“So?”

“So you’re having dinner with another man. Why would I interrupt?”

“Because you always come say ‘hi’ when you meet me by chance.”

“Not when you’re on a date!” He snips. You’re still both under the rain. For a moment you wonder why he hasn’t insisted on moving under a covering. You haven’t because the cold rain is soothing your nerves, soothing the pain you feel anytime you’re too close to him. Did Icarus feel like this when he was soaring too close to the sun? Did he wish for the rain when the scorching wax burned his skin? Did he love the freedom so much he reveled in the pain, hating it at the same time?

“I never go on dates!”

“Clearly, you do.”

You sigh, “this was my first date in 4 years, Hyune.”

“And I didn’t know you had a date, wanna guess why? Because you ignored me for days!” He uses his free hand to push back the strands of hair that fell on his face, dripping wet.

“I thought you were busy. Last time we talked you were really focused on getting ready to meet your girlfriend. Why would I interrupt that?” He’s baffled, and rightly so. In the past, you had no qualms about texting him at all hours.

“Well, I was focused”, you can hear his mocking tone. When did this transform into a fight? “because I was meeting her to put an end to our relationship, because I realized I’ll never be in love with her because I am crazy in love with you. And I tried to call you because I needed to tell you so, I needed to know I did the right thing. I thought this wasn’t one sided. And yet you ignored me and- fuck” he laughs disheartened. “-and went on a date with another man.”

“I- you, what?” You blink rapidly, drops of rain blurring your sight. “You broke up with her? For…” you can’t say it. You can’t bring yourself to say ‘for me’, because it’d make it real. And it could be the best thing or the worst thing. Or both, at the same time. Did Icarus ever think he’d succeed? Did he ever consider he could fly, escape and be free; or did he -like you- only ever imagined failure in front of him? Was he like you, swimming stroke after stroke towards something, wishing for the best but never thinking it could come true? There’s a certain push that animates the despairings, there’s no fight or flight response. There’s only the pilgrimage towards the unreachable goal.

“For you.”

A beat passes. Another. Another one.

“Since when?”

“Since you held my hand after that nightmare. Since I realized I'm not scared when I’m with you.”

There’s something they don’t tell you about desperation, about wanting something so bad that you can feel it missing from your own body. For weeks, for months, you get used to the longing, the yearning. When you can finally wrap your hands around his shoulder, when you can press your lips against his and hear him utter a soft groan, all that you used to feel transforms into electricity, it runs through your whole body and sets you aflame from the inside. This kind of burning, though? It’s a welcomed feeling.

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

okay I have a specific request — Ethan’s sister dating george???? I just feel like ethan would be a really fun but protective brother.

I'm sorry this took me so long to put together, my job has me in a chokehold this week! anyway I hope you like it :))

I’m not sure if I’m here for the free craft services or for the existential bliss of standing next to George Clarke. My brother—Ethan, Behzinga to the world—thinks I’m just bored. He thinks I’m tagging along for some wholesome family bonding or maybe to post behind-the-scenes TikToks featuring him and his goofy friends. He has no clue that what I really want is to watch George from every possible angle until I can’t breathe.  George and I are used to this—little side glances, inside jokes, a teasing tap on the shoulder that feels dangerously electric. Nothing official, but enough to make my chest tighten in anticipation every time we land on the same shoot.

I claim a spot near the plastic folding chairs—flimsy thrones for YouTube royalty—and pretend I’m not devouring George with my eyes. I sip water I don’t need just to have something to do with my mouth. At any moment, I’m convinced I might say something desperate, like “Can I live inside your ribcage?” which is not generally acceptable small talk. But the heat in my spine is so intense that my entire body is basically a tuning fork for desire.

George glances in my direction and a hush slides over me like a weird spiritual wave, but then I remind myself: girl, you are on a set full of cameras. You can't be caught thirsting over one of your brother's best mates. Everyone here sees everything. Except Ethan, who’s too busy ignoring me for the sake of “content” to notice the entire soap opera I’m staging in my head. Thank God for that.

Eventually, the filming starts—some big wheel of dares. It’s silly. It’s comedic gold. I laugh at appropriate intervals, feeling the headache of a forced grin. My face is so stuck in performative cheer that I worry I’ll never be able to frown again. But every so often, George’s eyes drift my way. Then it doesn’t feel forced at all; it feels like someone just pressed an espresso shot of lust into my bloodstream.

I imagine the corners of my mouth still have hints of a smirk when Ethan glances over, eyes full of big-brother protectiveness. Great. His “friendly, easygoing vibe” is over. I can’t help but roll my eyes in a cosmic sense of sibling dread. Because Ethan is the barrier between me and the arms I want to fling myself into. He’s the moat around the castle. He’s the guard dog who barks at everything.

The video ends. Confetti of half-laughter, half-exhaustion litters the air. I hover near the edge of the set, my phone clenched in a death grip. Across the room, George sets down a water bottle. I decide I need to do something dramatic, or I’ll spontaneously combust.

I walk over casually—at least I hope it looks casual, like I’m in total control of my heartbeat. “You did great,” I say, trying to sound breezy instead of delirious. George smiles his classic, impossibly warm smile.

“Fancy seeing you here,” George says, stepping to me with that crooked grin. There's something boyish in the way he leans in, like we share a secret the rest of the room couldn’t possibly understand.

“Right?” I laugh, a little breathless. “Almost like we planned it.” We’ve run this dance so many times, bantering on set, one-upping each other with witty remarks, smiling in ways that promise everything and nothing. But it still feels new—a micro-thrill every time he tosses me that look.

He brushes an imaginary speck of dust off my sleeve, an excuse to close the gap between us. “Oh, I definitely planned it,” he teases, voice low.

Then I hear Ethan’s voice: “Oi! What’s going on over here?” My brother, a sentinel, standing with arms crossed like his biceps can ward off romance. 

“Nothing,” I say. “Just being friendly to your guest, Ethan.” I infuse his name with a sweet venom. 

Ethan narrows his eyes but doesn’t push it. He stalks away—still suspicious— probably to the snack table where the rest of the guys are rehashing the best jokes of the shoot. 

George leans in, breath brushing the shell of my ear. “Text me when you’re free, yeah?”

My chest throbs with that old, familiar longing. “I will,” I whisper, feeling the ghost of his presence on my skin long after he’s stepped back. We share this conspiratorial nod, like two secret agents swapping contraband info.

He steps away and salutes me in a mockingly polite way, turning to follow Ethan and the guys. And I’m left there, fidgeting like some starry-eyed fool, full of swirling fantasies about how our next off-camera rendezvous might go. Maybe it’s crazy to think we can keep up this flirtation without someone catching on—especially my brother—but for now, it’s perfect: the hush of a secret too sweet to keep bottled up forever.