#finally had to give up perfection and settle for using just the image

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

part two

[ariichive]

trial period

various haikyuu

in which he finds an opportunity in your boyfriend's errors. suna, osamu, iwaizumi, and akaashi fem reader | cursing | grumpy volleyball players | jealousy | they see their chance and take it | toxic relationships | akaashi's is a bit angsty but its still sweet, promise | i used kenji as a name for readers bf

suna

suna felt like shit; everything was pissing him off today. his coach was harder on him, he forgot his water bottle, and the heat was terrible. he was convinced nothing could make his day worse.

well that's what he thought until his phone went off.

'(name): is this a good gift set for guys?'

image sent.

'(name): or should I get him a new video game??? thx for ur help rinnie :)'

yeah, his day could definitely get worse.

he stared at your text messages, not even wanting to respond. there was nothing more humiliating than his crush of almost a year texting him about another guy. in all honest, he didn't give a fuck about that sorry excuse of a man that you called your boyfriend.

maybe he was biased, but he honestly didn't care. how could perfect, beautiful you settle for a man who forgot your birthday 3 months ago?

shit just didn’t make sense; now here you are, gift shopping for his birthday. if it were up to suna, he’d make sure you didn’t spend a penny on the man’s birthday. but if things were so easy, he’d gave you in his arms after a long day.

shaking his head, suna typed up a quick, dry response. it wasn’t his intention to come off as an asshole, but at the same time, it kinda was. maybe you’d finally get the hint.

suna ignored the buzzing of his phone as he walked into his local grocery store, he'll answer after buying a few snacks for his apartment. he didn't like ignoring your messages, but he also didn't like your boyfriend.

he saw a familiar, hated haircut as he walked mindlessly through the aisles. squinting his eyes, he made sure his eyes weren't deceiving him; but why was he in the women's care section?

sure, there was a small possibility of him buying you something. however, from what he's heard, your boyfriend has never given you flowers. he walked a little closer, not worried about being recognized because the two had only ever briefly met.

suna decided to pull out his phone; he felt something in his gut screaming at him.

suna quickly skimmed over your texts of you asking which video game to buy him. he facetimed you, making sure his headphones were connected.

"you asshole, you're lucky i'm still at the store," your voice spoke beautifully into his ears (he was ignoring your rude remarks). "yeah yeah, lemme see the video game options."

suna heard you sigh before you flipped the facetime camera, showing the huge display of video games.

he didn't look back at his phone, instead looking at your boyfriend- well it wasn't just your boyfriend anymore, he had a girl looking at him with a big smile on her face.

looking a bit closer, he saw the cause of her happiness. in her hands, she was holding two packages of pregnancy tests, different brands.

now, suna didn't want to assume anything; that could be a sister or a cousin. but his suspicions were only confirmed when she gave a big kiss on his lips.

"you're not even looking- are you at the store?" you said after seeing the background of his facetime screen. you watched as he looked lost in thought, standing in front of a shelf of pads. "why are you in the women's section? actually, while you're there can you grab me more..." when you noticed he wasn't listening, you got a bit worried. "rin?"

"sorry, i'm here. hey, i actually have something to show you, don't get mad.. at least not at me, alright?" you stared confused as he flipped the camera to his back one. now everything he was seeing, you were too.

"oh is that kenji? he said he would be at the.." you lost your train of thought as you witnessed kenji wrap an arm around a girl he was with, placing a small kiss on her head.

you could only stay silent as you watched the two happily walk away.

suna felt like an asshole that he was the one to reveal this to you, but it would've been worse if he hadn't.

"o-oh," you were the first to break the silence. "want me to go say something to him? you know i will." suna's own heart broke a little as he heard the cracking of your voice. "no, it's fine. uhh," you took a quick pause in your sentence, contemplating your words carefully, "do you think, you could come over for a little?"

suna glanced down at his screen, seeing you were already out of the video game shack and into the freshness of the outside air.

"yeah, i'll be there soon. be careful going home okay?"

"okay, bye suna."

no nickname or first name, you were definitely upset.

suna sighed as he continued his grocery shopping; making sure not to get anything refrigerated as he didn't know how long he was going to be at your place.

(he grabbed a few of your favorite snacks and a weird-looking stuffed animal he had a feeling you'd like)

after paying and making a mental note to come back later for milk, he went on his way to your place.

he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he got to your apartment, but nothing prepared him for seeing you open your door with sad eyes and a twitching lip; sad but not wanting to show.

"hey," you greeted him with a nod which he reciprocated, holding up his grocery bags. "we can watch that stupid reality show you like," suna stretched as he got comfortable in your living room.

"it's not stupid you just don't understand it."

and when the show was just white noise in the background as he listened to you complain about your now ex-boyfriend was turned into you falling asleep, using the cheap plush he bought you as a pillow; he felt like he belonged there with you.

even as your phone blew up with messages from your ex, suna stayed focused on you.

(he blocked the number).

osamu

you stared at the delivered message you sent to your boyfriend 6 hours ago, only growing more irritated as time went by. the two of you had a date planned for later tonight at a fancy restaurant; one he insisted on going to and you agreed eagerly.

you had already gotten all dolled up, and even though you didn't want to go on the date originally, you did do your best to get ready, and it was a bit disappointing to not go out now.

time was only getting closer, and there was still no response from your boyfriend. over the past week, you felt distant from him, hence your quick agreement to this date.

now, he wasn't even answering his phone. even after ringing kenji multiple times and going straight to voicemail, you still had hope. there was still an hour left until the agreed meet-up time, still some time for him to answer.

you did a few small room chores to kill the time, only for your phone to not go off even once. there were still 20 minutes until 6pm, and you decided that this date wasn't going to happen.

now, you were sad and hungry. getting up, you looked through your fridge and cabinets only to find nothing.

about to give up all hope, your phone dinged from the counter. shooting up immediately, you grabbed your eagerly; only to feel slight disappointment when it was your friend sending you a recently opened food place, 'Onigiri Miya'.

something was pulling you towards the place (maybe your stomach); sending your friend a quick text back, you decided to stop by for dinner. putting on more comfortable clothes and deciding to head out, still no text from your boyfriend.

the place was located in a good area and it wasn't a far walk from your own home. you could see yourself coming here more often. the smell of freshly cooked meals could be smelled from outside the restaurant doors. the place was rather empty, considering it was a bit later in the evening.

you sat down at the counter, glancing over the menu. there was an older lady next to you, who had a big smile on her face as she enjoyed her food. the scene caused a small smile to grace your face. you looked around a little more, noticing everyone had a smile on their face as they enjoyed their food.

this place felt like home.

"welcome to onigiri miya. do ya need more time lookin' at the menu?"

a mans voice broke you out of your trance. looking up, you seen a broad male with dark hair in the, what you assumed, was the official uniform of the restaurant.

"hello," you give him a polite smile, "could i get a minced tuna and spring onion rice ball?" you watched the man’s eyes widen, before a small smile adorned his pretty face.

“gotcha, that’s what my brother orders,” he held a bit of fondness in his voice as he recalled his brother. you giggle slightly, “your brother must have good taste.”

“s’alright. my taste has always been better,” he said as he gave you a quick look over, making you sit up a bit straighter. “really? then what do you recommend?” you decided to play along a little, almost forgetting about the events from earlier.

"stop by tomorrow, we could talk about it more."

and when a number was jotted down on the receipt, you felt a new chapter unfolding in your life.

iwaizumi

iwaizumi stared at his client, whose phone was currently going off non-stop. usually, iwaizumi hated it when his clients were on their phones during his training sessions; but this was annoying at this point.

"can you answer that," iwaizumi didn't try to hide the irritation in his voice. his client, kenji, perked up from his sit-ups. "sorry about that, man." iwaizumi just nodded his head, waiting to get back to his training.

"it's my clingy ass girlfriend, she's scared i'm out cheating."

frankly, iwaizumi didn't care; he had another client coming in soon and he needed to get this guy out. "okay.. are you ready to continue?" with a rather embarrassed nod from kenji, they finally continued their workout; which consisted of a few more sets and then iwaizumi creating a dietary plan for kenji to follow.

once kenji was gone, iwaizumi finished up a few more clients for the day before he moved onto his own workout for the night. it was normal for him to stay late and the gym owner trusted him enough to close.

he was in the middle of his workout when he heard the front door open. sighing, he wiped his sweat off with a nearby towel and walked to the front. walking up, he saw a pretty girl who looked lost just as much pissed.

noticing the man coming out of the backroom with a confused look on his face, you decided to speak first.

"hey, sorry to interrupt but have you seen a male with brown hair, brown eyes, and about this tall?" iwaizumi watched as you held your hand a few inches above your own head. "oh and his name is kenji, if that helps?"

iwaizumi's eyes widened in realization; you must be the clingy girlfriend.

"we close in about half an hour, nobody's here but me." he answered truthfully as he watched your face fall. "oh, thank you for letting me know." iwaizumi watched as you were about to turn and leave, but oddly enough he wanted the conversation to continue.

"why does he have you out so late lookin' for him?" iwaizumi wasn't one to shy away from being protective; especially when it came to women and his loved ones.

you watched as he leaned over the reception desk, his biceps flexing as he did so. noticing you were staring, you snapped out of it. "we haven't spoken all day, and then i called him and he told me he was at the gym... thought i'd wait for him so we could go do something after."

haven't spoken all day? that was weird considering how much Kenji's phone was blowing up earlier from text messages from his "clingy girlfriend"/

"he's been gone for hours. i'm his personal trainer, iwaizumi." iwaizumi stuck his hand out which you shook immediately, "(name), nice to meet the man who's kept my boyfriend so busy these past few weeks."

"few weeks? today was his third day here." iwaizumi watched as the words registered into your mind. there was a twitch of your eyebrow, nails picking at the skin of your hands, and a quick bite of your lip.

it was a shitty situation; he felt bad that a pretty girl like you was getting played by a man that couldn't even bench press 22kg.

"if it makes you feel any better, he dropped a 3kg weight on his foot." iwaizumi tried his best to cheer you up, and it seemed to be working when a laugh fell from your lips.

"thank you for talking to me, sorry for taking up your time, iwaizumi. I should start to walk back before it gets too dark," you said noticing how late it was getting.

"let me close up and i'll walk you home, if that's okay with you?"

you looked shocked before a small smile took graced your face, "sure that'll be fine."

and as you waited for iwaizumi to close up the gym, you sent one last text to kenji; a breakup text.

it was against your moral conscience to do it over text, but he tested your limits. you weren't even sure if he'd see the text tonight, since he's out doing whatever, but your feelings still stood.

when you and iwaizumi started the walk back to your complex, it was full of natural conversations and laughter. the two of you hitting it off immediately and ended the night exchanging numbers.

when the next day arrived, kenji walked into the gym, iwaizumi made training incredibly challenging. he still did his job with integrity, but he added a few new workouts to kenji's routine, some of which even made the athletic trainer pause when he did them himself.

akaashi

you flopped around on your best friend's bed, burying your face in his pillows and letting out muffled complaints.

"he's so stupid, keiji! can you believe he ditched our date to go get drunk with his friends?!"

akaashi can actually believe it, but he doesn't think you'd want to hear that right now. "it is shocking, yes." the lie comes out smoothly, he knows how this'll go. you'll complain and shit talk your boyfriend, get immensely sad for a few minutes, and then fall asleep on his bed.

this always happens when another male does your heart incredibly wrong, and akaashi is always there to pick up the shattered pieces.

"it's not the first time this has happened either... we'll be going good, and then out of nowhere he just..."

akaashi heard the familiar cracking of your voice, which he hated to hear, and when he noticed you went completely quiet; he knew you were crying into his pillow.

he gently got up from his seat on his desk, taking a seat on the bed next to you. "(name), it has nothing to do with you, he's just a bottom-of-the-barrel kind of guy. you know this," akaashi picked your head up from his pillow and placed it into his lap.

"you need to stop letting below-average men sweep you off your feet," akaashi sighed. these men were lucky enough to have a chance with you. whereas he, who's known you for a long time, hasn't gotten the chance. akaashi is too careful, and he never wants to overstep any of his boundaries and make you uncomfortable.

you sniffle as akaashi wipes your tears and runs a soothing hand through your hair, which only makes you more sensitive. akaashi noticed as your frown deepened, causing his hand to stop his movements, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.

"sorry, (name) i-...."

"i go for these types of men because i don't know if i deserve better," you spoke truthfully, grabbing akaashi's hand and putting it back on your head.

"(name), you deserve the world. it's not good for you to self-sabotage like this." his hand continued its movements in your hair. this time, it's your turn to sigh.

"keiji, you're too nice to me... i don't deserve someone like you." akaashi is stunned into silence, his hand movements halting. this was new.

you use his silence to continue, "you're so nice to me. i can't find better because better doesn't exist when you're near me. i don't know what i did to deserve your kindness."

akaashi breaks out of the trance he's in a furrow in his brow at your belittling words. "(name), you have made me discover parts of myself i didn't even know existed. (name) you make me happy."

he sees as your eyes start to water once again, "but i don't deserve you. every time i start to date someone new, my brain always compares him to you." akaashi's heart starts to speed up. "i'm the one that doesn't deserve you," he starts, "you stay by my side when i'm stressed from deadlines, you know how to tell when i need to get out of my room. (name), you know me better than almost anyone."

it was a sweet moment shared between you and him; two people who have been silently pinning for each other for so long.

he sees an opportunity right now and he'd be a fool not to take it.

"(name), you don't need these terrible men when you have me," his words become more confident as he speaks, "i promise i can be enough for you, my feelings towards you are genuine. never would i even think about treating you as poorly as these other men."

your eyes widened as you looked up at his face, a pretty red hue blossoming over his face. "you.. do you actually like like me?"

akaashi chuckled at your words, "yes, (name) i like like you," he repeated your words back at you.

"good, because i like like you too."

both you and akaashi let a comfortable silence take over the two of you. a mutual feeling of love waiting to be explored lingers in the air.

this was fun to write! if you enjoyed it pls consider reblogging or following :)

[thef1diary]

A Naughty Gift | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas - Day 6: Secret Santa

warnings: 18+ content, use of vibrator, fingering, best friend!danny

— missed day 5? Read it here by @emchante

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The living room radiates warmth, the soft glow of string lights reflecting off ornaments carefully hung on the Christmas tree. A steady, crackling fire in the fireplace adds to the cozy atmosphere, its warmth mingling with the scent of pine and spiced mulled wine. The chatter of your closest friends fills the air, their laughter blending seamlessly with the holiday playlist humming softly in the background. 

The room is alive with anticipation. You’re seated on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, your legs curled comfortably beneath you. Around you, your friends settle in—some on couches, others sprawled on the floor with mugs of hot cocoa or cider in hand. The Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its base surrounded by an array of colourfully wrapped gifts, each tagged with a name. 

Tonight is the long-awaited secret Santa exchange, a tradition that never fails to bring laughter, surprises, and a few inside jokes to your closest group of friends. Two weeks ago, you all had drawn names from a bowl, each person tasked with finding the perfect gift for their chosen recipient. The mystery of who picked whom has been the topic of countless teasing conversations since, and now, the moment has finally arrived. 

You’re excited to see your friend’s reaction when they open the gift you picked out for them—an item you’d put serious thought into, sure they’d love. But there’s also a nervous energy bubbling beneath your excitement. You have no idea who drew your name from the bowl, and your mind has been running through possibilities all week. Will it be something heartfelt? Funny? Maybe even a little ridiculous? Only time will tell. 

One by one, the gifts are claimed and brought back to their recipients. Each present earns its own reaction—gasps of surprise, peals of laughter, or appreciative murmurs.

The stack beneath the tree shrinks as the night goes on, and the anticipation builds. Finally, it’s your turn. Your heart skips a beat when one of your friends plucks a medium-sized gift from the dwindling pile and passes it to you. The wrapping paper is festive but slightly crooked, as if the effort was rushed or the wrapper wasn’t skilled—it’s impossible to tell which. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at the uneven bow perched on top. 

Balancing the gift on your lap, you spot the tag attached to the ribbon. Beneath your name is a handwritten message in bold, playful script:

For when you need to unwind :) 

Your eyebrows furrow in curiosity. “I’m almost afraid to open this,” you mutter, pulling at the ribbon. 

With careful fingers, you peel back the wrapping paper, the brightly colored patterns giving way to a glossy white box underneath. The moment the text and images on the packaging come into focus, your breath catches in your throat.

Your gasp is audible—and immediate.

Nestled inside is a vibrator, sleek and modern, its packaging professional and uncomfortably clear about its intended use. Your mouth falls open in shock, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the box, your mind blank.

The room explodes into laughter, your friends practically doubling over as they take in your reaction. You blush furiously, scrambling to pull pieces of the discarded wrapping paper back over the box as if that might somehow undo what just happened. But despite your embarrassment, a laugh escapes your lips, shaky and incredulous.

“Seriously?” you managed, your voice slightly higher than usual as you hold up the box—stil half-covered in the wrapping—for emphasis.

“That’s the next best option if you’re not getting laid!” one of your friends teased, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, burying your face in your hands for a moment before peeking back out at the chaos around you. 

The laughter continues, the jokes coming in waves. 

“Looks like someone’s trying to do you a favour!”

“Now you have no excuse to be cranky.”

You can’t help but laugh along with them, even as your cheeks burn. This wasn’t entirely unexpected; for months, your friends had made a running joke about your supposed sexual frustration. Anytime you were stressed or snappy, the solution was always the same: “You just need to get laid!”

Still, you never imagined getting such a gift from a secret Santa. 

Once the initial uproar dies down, you look around the room, trying to pinpoint who might have been bold enough to give you such an obscene gift. Your friends are still chuckling, tossing jokes back and forth, but as your gaze sweeps over the group, it lands on Daniel, seated across from you. 

Unlike everyone else, he isn’t laughing. His lips curve into a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you, unbothered by the chaos around him.

Your eyes narrow, suspicion flaring. “Daniel,” you say, your voice sharp enough to cut through the lingering laughter.

The room falls silent, everyone turning to look at him. His smirk deepens, and he leans back casually in his chair, his posture oozing confidence.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I thought you could use something to help you… loosen up a little.”

The room erupts again, louder this time, your friends practically collapsing into each other at the sheer boldness of his comment. You groan, shaking your head, but there’s no hiding the amused smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, your voice laced with exasperation.

“Unbelievable or thoughtful?” he counters, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“You know, I should be offended,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you?” comes his immediate response. 

“Still debating it,” you mutter, unable to stop the small chuckle that escapes.

The focus soon shifts as another gift is unwrapped, the group’s attention moving on, but your gaze keeps wandering back to Daniel. The box lies heavy in your lap, the weight of it grounding you in more ways than one.

It’s just a gag gift, you tell yourself, a harmless joke meant to get a laugh out of you. But your mind can’t help but circle back to him. Of all the things he could have picked, why this? And, more importantly, had he thought of you—truly thought of you—when he chose it? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, one you quickly dismiss with a shake of your head.

Needing a distraction, you rise to refill your glass of wine, letting the chatter of your friends fade into the background as you retreat to the kitchen. You’re pouring a generous amount when you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you.

“You might need more wine than that if you’re trying to forget about my gift,” Daniel’s voice drawled, the teasing tone unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m not trying to forget it,” you say, turning back to your glass. You lift it to your lips, letting the liquid warm you before continuing. “Just need a little liquid courage.”

“To use it?” he asks as he steps closer, his tone light but laced with insinuation.

You turn fully to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Who says I’m going to use it?”

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t,” he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.

Your heart skips a beat at his audacity, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt, “do you want me to use it?”

His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by something darker, something unreadable. “You’re always so stressed, so uptight. You’d be doing everyone a favour if you did.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his arm playfully. “I didn’t know my lack of… cumming was a group concern,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

His chuckle is low, almost a hum, but his eyes never leave yours.

Taking a sip of your wine, you decide to lean into the humour of it all. “Thanks for the gift, though,” you say, your tone light, playful. “Maybe this thing will finally do the job, considering everything else I’ve tried has been useless.”

Daniel’s expression shifts, his smirk freezing as his eyebrows lift. “Wait, what?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, and you curse yourself for letting that slip. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head as you try to sidestep him.

But his hand darts out, gently grabbing your wrist and holding you in place. His grip is firm but not forceful, and it sends a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“You’re not getting out of this one,” he says, his voice low, laced with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

You groan, tipping your head back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m telling you, of all people, this.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, feigning hurt but a moment later, his smirk returns, though it’s softer this time, less mocking and more intrigued.

You bite your lip, debating, but the words tumble out before you can stop them. “It’s not voluntary, okay? I just… I can’t make myself, you know… finish. Not with my fingers, not with toys—nothing works. And I’m not exactly dying to hook up with anyone, either.”

His grip on your wrist loosens slightly, but his thumb brushes against your skin, sending another shiver through you. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, before he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Well,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave, “if that’s the case, you’d better give me a review of my gift once you use it.”

Without thinking, without hesitating, you fire back, “Why don’t you see for yourself if it works?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you realize what you’ve just said. His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something darker, more intense.

His grip tightens slightly, anchoring you in place. The air between you shifts, thick and charged, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. But then, he steps closer, invading your personal space as his lips graze your ear. 

“Careful,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “I might take you up on that.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words settling over you like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you’re not sure if this is still a joke—or if you want it to be.

The thought had all but left your mind as the night wore on, the air filled with laughter, the buzz of conversation, and the off-key singing of your friends as they belted out holiday tunes. You’d allowed yourself to relax, to forget about Daniel’s provocative words and the gift itself. The glass of wine you’d poured earlier remained untouched on the countertop—a conscious decision to remain completely sober and avoid any further embarrassment in front of him.

As the night began to wind down, your friends trickled out one by one, each hugging you tightly and thanking you for hosting. The energy shifted, quieter now, though still warm and filled with contentment. One of your friends lingered before leaving, her grin mischievous as she nudged you gently.

“Don’t forget about your gift,” she teased, winking. “Tonight might be the perfect time to use it.” 

You laughed it off, waving her out the door, but her words lingered, stirring something deep inside your chest. As the door closed behind her, you let out a quiet breath and turned back to the living room.

Daniel was still there, gathering stray glasses and stacking plates with a practiced ease that made your stomach twist. He always stayed behind to help, his presence in your space as natural as if he belonged there. 

The last of your friends were slowly trickling out, bidding you their goodbyes with hugs and sleepy smiles. It wasn’t long before it was just you and Daniel, the sound of clinking dishes breaking the comfortable silence.

In the kitchen, you were focused on loading the dishwasher when Daniel came up behind you, balancing a few more plates in his hands. His proximity sent a familiar jolt through you, a rush of awareness that made it impossible to ignore him.

As he set the dishes down beside you, the memory of your earlier moment in the kitchen resurfaced and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought, and you stole a glance at him. It seemed like that moment was on his mind too. His expression was unreadable, but the silence stretched between you, thick and charged.

Neither of you brought it up, though, working side by side until the kitchen was spotless. 

He wandered back to the living room right before you, picking up his leather jacket from the couch. But as he moved to sling it over his arm, his eyes landed on the box still sitting on the cushion—the gift, untouched and glaringly present. His head tilted slightly, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to speak up, but the words left your mouth before you could stop them. “I was told I should use it tonight.” 

The moment the confession escaped your lips, heat flared across your face. You busied yourself with fixing the cushions on the couches, avoiding his gaze. 

Daniel chuckled softly, the sound drawing your attention back to him despite yourself. “Is that so?” He picked up the box with his free hand, his movements casual. “Are you going to?” He asked, tone laced with intrigue. 

He dropped his jacket back onto the couch, sliding one hand in his pocket as he waited for your response. Your heart was pounding now, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why you were even entertaining this conversation.

Daniel’s smirk widened as he toyed with the box in his hand, his fingers brushing deliberately over the edge of the packaging. His gaze flicked to you, then back to the box, and with a slow, deliberate step, he started closing the space between you.

“What’s the hesitation, huh?” he asked, his voice smooth, teasing. “Scared it’s not going to work? Or are you scared it will?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, your voice betraying the slight tremor in your chest.

“No?” He stepped even closer, the vibrator box now dangling lazily from his hand as his eyes roamed your face, searching for cracks in your resolve. “Then what is it? You just like edging yourself, is that it? Letting yourself get so close you can taste it… then ripping it away?”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively shook your head, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. “I don’t—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, taking another step until he was standing directly in front of you, the air between you thick and charged. “No?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’re telling me you spend your nights wound up tight, desperate, trying to finish but never quite getting there?”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could think twice. “I need to cum. So badly.”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, his gaze darkening as his free hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for just a second too long. “Then you should use it tonight,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “Get yourself off, let go for once. But…”

He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe what you really need is another pair of hands.”

“Daniel…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a protest or an invitation.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing smirk never leaving his lips. “Say it,” he said softly, the challenge clear in his tone. “And I’ll make sure you finally get what you need.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, time seemed to still. Daniel stood close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dark eyes locked on yours like he was daring you to make the next move. 

You nodded, the motion small but deliberate, your lips brushing against his as if testing the waters. The faintest whisper escaped you, desperate. “Please, Danny, make me cum.” 

That was all it took.

Daniel surged forward, his hand sliding around the back of your neck as his lips crashed against yours with a force that made your knees weak. The kiss was fiery, intense, and filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface all night. His other hand dropped the box unceremoniously onto the couch, coming up to grip your jaw, guiding your movements.

You gasped into his mouth as his tongue slipped past your lips, deepening the kiss. Your heart raced as Daniel’s mouth moved against yours, eliciting a hunger from within you that made your knees weak. His tongue teased yours, pulling soft, desperate noises from the back of your throat. 

Daniel’s hands found your waist, steady and firm as he guided you backward until the edge of the couch caught the backs of your knees. A gentle push sent you down onto the cushions, your breath hitching as he towered over you. His gaze, dark and filled with intent, flicked to the discarded box on the couch beside you. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for it, the tearing sound of the packaging loud in the charged silence.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers worked at the box with practiced ease, pulling out the sleek vibrator that gleamed faintly in the dim light. He held it up for a moment, his smirk deepening as he glanced back at you. “Strip for me,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made your stomach flutter.

Your hands moved instantly, almost on instinct, tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. You fumbled with the waistband of your pants next, your eagerness only adding to the heat building between you. 

Daniel knelt in front of you once you were bare for him. His hands found your ankles, warm and strong, as he pulled your legs over his broad shoulders, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The couch cushions dipped under your weight, but all you could focus on was the way he leaned in, the heat of his breath just inches away from your cunt. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to your glistening cunt rather than to you. “So wet already… Were you this desperate before, or is this just for me?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. Your throat felt dry, your body so keyed up you could barely breathe. He grinned, clearly pleased by your speechlessness, and leaned in just close enough that his breath ghosted over your folds. The sensation made you shiver, your body straining toward him of its own accord.

His warm breath fanned over your slick heat, and you swore you could feel every word as he spoke. “You’ve been needing this, haven’t you? So worked up, so desperate to let go.”

Your mouth fell open in response, a soft whimper escaping as his fingers slid up your inner thigh, his touch featherlight but enough to make you arch into him. Two fingers came to rest against your folds, spreading you gently. The simple act, something you’d done countless times to yourself, now felt like an entirely new experience under his hands.

He dragged his thumb upward, deliberately brushing against your clit in the faintest tease, a mere suggestion of pressure that sent jolts of electricity racing through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a soft, pleading whimper slipping from your lips.

“Daniel,” you breathed, your voice shaky with need. “Please, I need to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his tone smooth, teasing. His lips curled into a smirk as his thumb circled your clit again, just barely grazing the swollen nub. “Needy, aren’t you?” He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ve been so patient. Let me enjoy this for a moment.”

Your head fell back against the couch, your thighs trembling over his shoulders. The teasing was excruciating, his touch featherlight and agonizingly slow, keeping you on the edge without giving you the relief you so desperately craved. Another whine escaped you, and he chuckled again, clearly amused by your desperation.

“Do you know how pretty you sound when you beg?” he murmured, his voice low and rich. “But don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for. Me and this little gift of mine.”

Before you could respond, Daniel leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core before his tongue dragged a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds. The sudden wet heat of his mouth made you gasp, your back arching off the couch as he pulled back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke. “Perfect.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but there was no time to recover. He brought the vibrator into view, the sleek toy gleaming in the dim light. “Let’s see how well this works, hmm?”

He pressed the tip of the vibrator against your clit, still teasing, still maddeningly light. Then, with a click, he turned it on. The sudden vibration against your sensitive flesh was like a jolt of electricity, and you cried out, your hips jerking upward as pleasure shot through your body.

The sensation was familiar yet utterly foreign, amplified by the fact that you weren’t in control. You didn’t know what was coming next, couldn’t anticipate his movements, and it left you completely at his mercy.

Daniel pressed the vibrator more firmly against your clit, his eyes fixed on your face as he watched your reactions with a wicked grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re so sensitive, love. Look at how you’re shaking.”

Your legs quivered over his shoulders, your body trembling under the relentless stimulation. Just when you thought it couldn’t get more intense, his fingers returned, parting your folds once more. The wetness there made it easy for him to slide one finger inside you, then another, the intrusion smooth and deliberate.

You moaned loudly, your hands clutching at the couch cushions as the dual sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrator against your clit and his fingers inside you created a perfect rhythm, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Daniel,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pressure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter.

The vibrator hummed steadily against your clit, Daniel’s fingers curling inside you with a precision that made your back arch. The pressure built higher and higher, and you trembled, caught between the unbearable pleasure and the tension coiling in your stomach.

This was always the point where you faltered, the moment where the pleasure grew so overwhelming, so maddeningly close, only to slip away. Every time you’d done this to yourself, your fingers had failed to push you past that invisible barrier. It was like chasing a mirage, just out of reach, leaving you frustrated and aching for more.

The memory of all those failed attempts made your chest tighten. You bit your lip, your moans softening, and Daniel noticed the subtle shift in your body. His movements slowed slightly, and his dark eyes flicked up to your face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth and commanding, yet somehow soothing. His fingers stilled inside you for a moment, and he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your thigh. “Don’t go shy on me now. I can feel how close you are.”

You whimpered, your lips parting to speak, but Daniel didn’t give you the chance. His grin turned wicked as his fingers curled again, this time pressing deep against a spot that had your breath catching in your throat.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice low and filthy. “Dripping for me. You’re so tight, sweetheart—so desperate to let go. Don’t fight it. You’re mine to ruin tonight.”

The vibrator pressed harder against your clit as he notched up the intensity. The sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand, but Daniel held you firm, his grip possessive.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he stated, his tone dark and teasing. “Not until I’ve wrung every last bit of that tension out of you. I want to feel you shake for me, hear you scream my name.”

His fingers thrust into you with deliberate precision, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cunt. “You’re going to cum for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with sin. “And when you do, you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”

The vibrator buzzed relentlessly against your clit, and his fingers kept up their steady rhythm, hitting a spot that constantly made you see stars. Your body writhed on the couch, every nerve on fire, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“You like that, don’t you?” Daniel’s voice was a low growl, his lips brushing against your trembling thigh. “Being completely at my mercy? Taking exactly what I give you? That’s it, pretty girl. Stop thinking. Just feel me.”

His words broke through your haze of overthinking, and you let go, surrendering completely. The coil inside you snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

Daniel stayed with you through it, his touch unrelenting but steady, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were left trembling, spent, and utterly undone beneath him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs trembling over Daniel’s broad shoulders. The vibrator slowed but didn’t stop, sending smaller, teasing jolts through your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew carefully, and you whimpered at the loss, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks.

He straightened, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he lowered your legs from his shoulders, guiding them down to wrap around his hips instead. Rising to his full height, Daniel moved onto the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight as he hovered over you. 

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough as he braced one arm on the back of the couch, the other trailing down to grip your jaw gently. “Look at you, trembling for me. Completely wrecked—and I’m not even close to being done with you.” 

His gaze was magnetic, holding yours captive as his lips hovered just above yours, a breath away. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his hips brushing yours in a way that made you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him despite your exhaustion.

Your eyes widened as his words registered, your mind spinning as his intentions became clear. A fresh wave of heat pooled in your stomach, your body responding despite how utterly spent you felt.

“Oh, that’s right, sweetheart,” Daniel said, his lips curling into a wicked, filthy grin. “I’m going to make up for all those times you had to edge yourself, all the times you were so fucking close but couldn’t quite get there. That’s over now.”

He dipped his head, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw, his stubble scraping against your heated skin and leaving a delicious burn in its wake. His hand slid down your body, fingers grazing your waist before gripping your thigh possessively. “You’re going to cum on my fingers again, on my tongue, on my cock—over and over until you’re wrecked, until you can’t even remember what it felt like to want more. I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied, sweetheart.”

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping even lower, rough with desire. “And I won’t stop until you’re a mess beneath me, begging for mercy or for more.” 

Taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

2.- Part two.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. p in v. unprotected sex. oral sex (f receiving). overstimulation. dirty talking. power struggle. bratty! reader. kinda brat tamer kuroo (?. lemme know if i missed anything<3 wc. 5.5k an. thank you so much for all the love you showed the first part! i love y'all enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

Emi snorted behind her palm.

"So he blue-balled you? And you let him?"

"What was I supposed to do? I'm not gonna force myself on him. What am I, a man?" You sighed, shaking the soft carton box in your hands and pulling out a cigarette with your teeth and holding the flame a little longer than you needed to.

"Oh, he blue-balled you blue-balled you. Was his makeout game that good?"

"Oh, believe me, it was. And then he just stood up and left." You ran a hand through your hair, the skin where he'd bitten, sucked, and kissed still burning beneath your clothes—even after a whole weekend and then some.

"What a cocky bastard," you muttered, your fingers twitching at the memory of his smirk, that stupidly sexy bedhead, and his big, strong hands on your body.

The way he'd squeezed you, moved you over him like you belonged there—fuck. Just thinking about it made the heat crawl back into your cheeks and settle low in your stomach. You gave your head a sharp shake to chase the images away.

"So... that's it? You giving up?" Emi asked, fixing her mascara in the reflection of a classroom window.

"Do you know who you're talking to? Of course not." You turned with a slow smirk, catching her eye. She smiled back.

"I just have to push the right buttons."

Before Emi could reply, her eyes flicked past you, widening in alarm. The way they darted to the cigarette between your fingers said it all.

Shit.

You dropped it and stomped it out in one smooth motion, turning just in time to face the one person you really didn't want to see right now.

Inukai-sensei.

Your homeroom teacher stood a few paces away, looking down at the half-smoked cigarette by your boot. His posture was relaxed, but there was quiet authority in the way he carried himself—tall, lean, the kind of person who didn't need to raise his voice to be respected. His black hair was neatly trimmed, though time had started peppering his temples with gray. The pressed, earth-toned shirt and worn leather watch only added to the whole dad energy thing he had going on.

He was the kind of teacher who was there—not for a paycheck, but because he genuinely gave a shit. It would've disgusted you—how nice he was—if you didn't so often feel like the stray dog in the rain he'd stop and feed without a second thought.

His brown eyes, soft behind wire-thin glasses, lifted from the cigarette to meet your gaze. He held up a sheet of paper with a single raised brow.

"Who did you copy the chemistry homework from?"

You flinched, eyebrows furrowing, instantly offended.

"What? No one! I don't cheat."

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out a small laugh through his nose.

"I know," he said. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just had to make sure."

"Why? Is it good?" you asked, lips curling into a proud smile despite yourself.

"It's perfect," he admitted, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. "Have you finally listened to your teachers and put some work into studying?"

Behind you, Emi snorted.

"She's been studying, all right," she muttered under her breath.

Inukai-sensei shot her a look, and she straightened like a scolded pup.

"I have a tutor," you said, giving her a sideways glare.

His gaze snapped back to you, eyebrows lifting.

"Really? Who?"

You wanted to tell him it was none of his business—formally, of course. You were a delinquent, not suicidal. But before you could answer, Emi slithered in beside you like a smug little devil.

"The volleyball team captain~," she sang, grinning.

You clicked your tongue, shooting her a sharp glare that only made her smile wider.

Inukai-sensei blinked in surprise.

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun?"

"That's the one~," Emi chimed again, giggling as she dodged a flick of your hand meant for her shoulder.

"Well... he's top of his class. That's a good choice for a tutor," he said, nodding slowly, thoughtful.

"Top of my class, remember?"

The words echoed in your mind like they'd been tattooed behind your eyes. You bit your lip, hard, willing yourself not to replay the way he'd said it—in that low, cocky murmur while his mouth was on your neck, your hands tangled in his hair—

You were saved by the bell.

Thank fucking god.

You all but snatched the sheet from Inukai-sensei's hand as you breezed past him, calling over your shoulder, "Well, if that's all you needed—"

He called your name. You paused, bracing for a lecture about smoking on school grounds.

But when you turned, all you saw was that soft smile of his—the rare kind. The kind that stuck with you. There was something behind it, too. Something that looked suspiciously like pride.

"I knew you could do it."

You froze. The tips of your ears went hot. You looked away with a scoff and a roll of your eyes.

"Whatever..." you muttered under your breath.

Emi giggled and waved goodbye, and the two of you walked off. You didn't look back, but you heard him pick up the crushed cigarette and toss it into a nearby trash can.

Emi was practically bouncing as she pestered you for a look at the paper. You shoved it at her, annoyed, and she whistled low.

"Damn. That volleyball nerd of yours might actually be an angel. Who knows—maybe he'll help you pull your grades up. Fix your life n' shit."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, well, that's not what I'm actually interested in, am I?"

She pouted. "You're no fun," she said before skipping off toward her class.

It didn't matter.

Once you got what you wanted, you could forget about grades. Forget about stupidly handsome Kuroo Tetsurou.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

It was Wednesday, and the late afternoon sun bathed Nekoma's school grounds in a warm, honeyed light. For once, the place looked almost comforting as you made your way toward the exit, lulled by the quiet that blanketed the halls.

You had one more day until your next tutoring session with Kuroo.

You weren't counting.

Okay, maybe you were—but only in that restless, irritated way you counted down to something unfinished. Not because you wanted to see him. Not because his crooked smirks or annoyingly warm voice had burrowed under your skin like a splinter you couldn't reach. And definitely not because you missed the way his eyes tracked you like he already knew what you were going to say and dared you to surprise him anyway.

You hated how easy it was to think about him.

Worse, you hated that the thoughts didn't stop at his mouth or his hands or the phantom heat still clinging to your skin. They wandered off into the weird, dangerous parts—the parts where he laughed at your dumb jokes or challenged you just to see what you'd do. The parts where you imagined staying a little longer after tutoring just to argue about something stupid and feel him look at you like you mattered.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, jaw tight, and scoffed to yourself. Fuck that. You weren't catching feelings. He blue-balled you and walked out. You just wanted to finish what you'd started.

You just wanted... revenge. Or control. Or something else you couldn't name.

Your boots hit the pavement a little harder as you rounded the building, trying to shove it all down.

Time to go home, text Emi, and forget about the excitement bubbling in your gut at the thought of seeing him again.

Or so you told yourself—until you heard the sharp, unmistakable bark of Kenkiba's voice behind the main school building.

"I told you to apologize. You tryna pick a fight with me, little pudding head?"

You rolled your eyes, heading toward the noise, where the group you were a part of—the so-called troublemakers of Nekoma where well... Making trouble.

There were six of you in total, with you and Emi being the only girls. You were never looked down on though—especially when the boys knew damn well you could take any of them in a fight and win. Not that they would risk it; they were "delinquents," sure, but not monsters. There was a weird kind of chivalry among them, the kind that kicked in when a particularly pretty girl caught their attention—or when someone messed with someone they cared about.

Kenkiba Haruki had that rough-around-the-edges charm that made you overlook his dumb choices more often than you should. His wavy, dark brown hair constantly fell into his eyes—he just refused to get it cut properly—and there was always a bandage somewhere on him, evidence of a fight, a fall, or just a stupid stunt. His uniform was a disaster: blazer slung over his shoulder, shirt half-untucked, school tie? Nowhere in sight.

Tall, broad-shouldered, always in motion—leaning back in chairs, slouching against walls, draped across desks with a lazy grin. His eyes were sharp, always scanning, like he half-expected someone to come at him with trouble. Or snacks. (Either was fine.)

When he laughed, it was loud, wild, infectious—the kind that cracked even the tensest moments wide open. But when he got serious, especially when it came to protecting someone, there was a stillness to him. Like a mutt that wouldn't let go of the hand it had chosen to trust.

And then there was Shibata Taiga. Where Kiba was brawn, Taiga was brains—though not the studious kind. More like chaotic, scheming energy bottled up in a leaner frame. His dyed hair always showed dark roots, like he was halfway between rebellion and not caring enough to finish what he started. And his ever-raised eyebrow made it seem like he lived in a constant state of sarcasm. (He did.)

Shorter than Kiba, wirier, and always wearing at least two accessories the school rules banned—maybe a ring, maybe a chain around his neck, usually both. He got Kiba into most of their trouble, but he was also the one who could talk them out of it. Sharp-tongued, quicker-witted, and while he'd talk shit about you to your face, he'd throw himself into a fight if anyone else tried it.

Rumor had it they once fought an entire group of upperclassmen and won. No one knew why. The story changed every time. They probably started it for something stupid. They probably didn't even remember.

You liked them. You didn't always like them. But you trusted them.

The same couldn't be said for the other two, Junpei and Inuzuka.

They were quieter, less flashy, always hanging around the edges. You couldn't quite put your finger on what rubbed you wrong—but there was something about their glances—too quick, too calculating—that made you cautious. Where Kiba and Taiga wore their hearts on their sleeves (and fists), those two kept everything close to the chest. Too close. You weren't sure they'd have your back if things got messy.

You'd put your neck out for Kiba and Taiga. They'd do the same for you. You couldn't say that for the last two.

Inukai-sensei, oddly enough, was one of the few adults the group respected, and the only teacher who you'd listen to. Maybe because he saw right through the "delinquent" facade to what you really were: a bunch of loud, messy kids trying to figure shit out. He never coddled you, but he never judged you either.

Normally, you wouldn't have had an issue with the group stirring trouble—they did it all the time.

But today? Today you had a problem.

Because standing in the middle of the group was none other than Kozume Kenma.

Kenma always looked vaguely annoyed, like the world was a mild inconvenience he'd learned to tolerate. But Kiba's glare and close proximity pulled an extra twitch from his brow—just enough to show he was actually irritated.

Kiba barked, "So? Are you gonna apologize or what?"

"I already did," Kenma said flatly. No fear. No anger. Just cold efficiency.

"Not energetically enough. I wanna hear you loud and clear."

Kenma scoffed, quiet and dismissive, like the whole exchange was beneath him. His fingers twitched around the console in his hands as he tried to retreat into the screen again, attempting to walk past the group.

Kiba knocked the console from his hands. It clattered onto the pavement.

Kenma stared at it, then slowly lifted his gaze to Kiba. The look he shot him was a flash of cold fury that could have cut through steel. You could practically feel the chill that ran down Kiba's spine.

Kiba reached out, hand forming into a fist, ready to grab Kenma by the collar, mouth opening—probably to say something stupid.

"Kenkiba."

Your voice cut through the moment like a blade.

The boys turned. You gave Kiba a tired jerk of your chin. "Leave him alone."

"Huh?! He bumped into me!"

"I heard him say he apologized."

"Well I didn't hear him."

You sighed, stepping closer. "Kibaaaa," you drawled, low and threatening. "Leave him alone."

It made him shift, visibly uncomfortable.

He was scared, you could see it in his stiff shoulders. But he still stared right back at you, defiant.

You sighed again, switching tactics.

"I heard Emi was looking for you."

That got him. He straightened instantly, a blush climbing up his neck like ivy. You felt a little bad using his crush against him—but Kenma needed saving. The idea of Kuroo's best friend vouching against you didn't sit right in your chest.

"She did?"

You nodded, tired. "Yeah... Something about karaoke?"

And just like that, Kiba's brain emptied. Tail practically wagging.

"Where is she?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I dunno. Go look for her before she invites that scum of an ex instead."

It was all it took. The boys wandered off, a chorus of grumbles and last-minute teasing trailing after them.

When the crowd finally left, Kenma knelt to retrieve his console. He picked it up with a tight jaw, inspecting it for damage. His brows were furrowed in quiet irritation as he wiped the screen with the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry about that," you said, quiet but honest.

He glanced up at you, squinting slightly like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't care to finish.

"I don't need you to protect me."

You shrugged. "I didn't think you did. But it's easier when you have some help, right?"

His mouth pulled into a reluctant scowl, more pout than real anger. Still, he took the tissue you offered without a word.

You watched him clean his console with meticulous care, thumbs brushing lightly over the buttons. His movements were sharp but restrained. His face calm, but you could tell—just barely—he was irritated. Not at you. Not even really at Kiba. Just... at the inconvenience of it all.

"I don't like you," he muttered later, accepting the canned coffee you handed him as an apology.

"I know."

"You'll get Kuro in trouble."

You raised a brow. "Hopefully not."

"And your friends suck."

You exhaled, sitting beside him on the bench. "They're not that bad. Once you get to know them."

Kenma didn't respond, just stared at you, quiet and still.

You tapped the can against your thigh before continuing.

"Taiga? The dyed one? He has a soft spot for animals. Feeds the school's stray cats. He got detention once for sneaking a sick puppy into the nurse's office. Swears he doesn't care. Totally does."

Kenma glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"And Kiba..." you chuckled. "He was late to a hangout once because he found a first-year crying behind the gym. He didn't say anything—just sat with him until he was done. Turned out the kid was getting bullied. Kiba swore he didn't beat the bullies up, but his knuckles were a mess when he finally showed up to karaoke. We let him pretend like he isn't a big softie."

"Why are you telling me this?"

You shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just want you to know not everything is what it looks like."

He studied you for a beat, his expression somewhere between curious and mildly annoyed—before shifting his gaze to the horizon.

"Huh... I still don't like you."

You shrugged with a smile.

"I know. You'll see I'm not that bad eventually."

He didn't answer. Just looked away and took a slow sip of his coffee.

Then, after a beat—quietly:

"I don't want to owe you a favor."

You tilted your head. "So you admit I did you a favor?"

Kenma rolled his eyes so hard you almost laughed.

"You're just like Kuro."

You snorted and pulled your wallet from your bag.

"Nah, he's smarter than me. Here." You handed him 3000 yen.

Kenma stared at it like the money might bite him. You chuckled and shook the bills a little.

"Give this to him? It's for tomorrow's tutoring. That way you won't owe me anything."

He took the money cautiously, unsure whether this counted as a trap or a transaction.

You drank the rest of your coffee in a somewhat comfortable silence, letting him study you. You could feel his eyes flick toward your profile now and then, measuring, analyzing, trying to figure out where exactly you fit on his mental chart of tolerable people.

It wasn't judgment, exactly. More like curiosity disguised as apathy.

Eventually, he stood and left without saying goodbye.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Emi <3: Did u just pimp me out to Kiba? Not cool (•̀⤙•́ )

Emi <3: Get ur ass to karaoke, we're all here.

You laughed under your breath, slung your bag over your shoulder, and headed for the gates.

It was Thursday afternoon.

The apartment was too quiet now—the kind of quiet that made every creak sound like a dare. You'd lit a cigarette earlier, let it burn in the ashtray untouched, like you were trying to give the room a scent. Something smoky. Sharp. Tangible. You didn't want to feel nervous, but you did—because this time, you weren't just dressing for revenge or seduction.

You were dressing for success.

So you opened the door for him like sin wrapped in cotton. Oversized tee swallowing you whole, no bra, bare thighs flashing underneath, just a hint of gym shorts if he looked hard enough.

Calculated. Deliberate.

You leaned on the doorframe, one brow arched—as if you hadn't been thinking about his mouth on your neck all week.

"Thought you might cancel," you said.

Kuroo didn't blink. Just looked you over slowly, like he had every right to. "You paid me early."

You stepped aside. "Right. Professional."

God, he was so calm.

But you were done waiting. He was smug, in control, keeping you teetering on the edge—tonight, you were going to make him crack.

No textbooks. No pens. No charade. Just you on the living room couch, cross-legged in that oversized tee, eyes locked on the door as he walked in.

He paused. Took one long look, and raised a brow. Cool, unreadable—as if he hadn't been fucking his fist to the thought of you all week.

"You forget the textbook?" he asked.

You smirked. "I think you've drilled enough chemistry into me by now."

"Maybe," he murmured, dropping his bag on the low table. "But exams are close."

You stood slowly from the couch. Sauntered over and straddled his lap before he could even unzip the bag. His hands hovered at your hips, hesitant— But you grabbed his wrists and shoved them higher, guiding them to your waist. Daring him.

"I'm done playing, Tetsurou," you whispered against his mouth. The way you purred his name—slow, dirty, like you were already imagining him inside you—made him fucking growl under his breath.

He laughed, teeth catching his lower lip like he was still trying to hold on. Like he wasn't seconds away from giving it up.

All the mental prep he'd done before getting here? All that resolve he built at practice, all the times he swore he wouldn't fold, all the times he told himself You are not letting her win—already out the fucking window. It was gone the second you opened the door, really. Your eyes, heavy-lidded. Your lips, parted. A siren in cotton and nerve.

Fuck, you were gonna be the death of him.

"You sure you can handle it?" he asked.

"You act like I'm scared of you," you said, cocky as hell. "You're the one always running. Afraid I'll laugh at your size?"

"Oh?" he said, voice slow and smug, hands tightening on your waist like a challenge. "Worried I'll disappoint you?"

You shrugged, feigning boredom even as your pulse pounded like a war drum in your throat. "You haven't impressed me yet."

That did it. The expert provocateur of Nekoma's volleyball team had just gotten played. Ironic.

His grip locked like a trap. In one move, he dragged you down into his lap and kissed you like he was collecting a debt—mouth greedy, tongue deep, teeth catching your lower lip just to hear you gasp. It melted into his mouth, hands threading into his hair, hips grinding against the thick, already-hard bulge straining through his pants.

"You think you're running this?" he murmured against your mouth, one hand dragging down your thigh with deliberate slowness. "That mouth of yours keeps writing checks you can't cash."

"Can't I?" you shot back, yanking his hair until he hissed through gritted teeth. "You're hard every time I breathe too loud."

His breath hitched—then he chuckled. Low and dark. Like he was already ten moves ahead.

"You think I haven't imagined fucking that attitude out of you?" he said, almost conversationally.

You didn't answer. You didn't need to.

His mouth found your throat—hot and biting—teeth grazing your skin like a threat. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, pushing it up in slow, deliberate increments, your body already hot and shaking—exposing you like a secret he intended to learn by heart. Your nails raked down his back, your body betraying every ounce of bravado.

He yanked your shirt off and tossed it aside, pulled back just enough to drink in the sight of you—bare, flushed, his golden eyes dark and greedy.

"Just say you want me," he murmured, voice like velvet stretched over something dangerous.

"Fuck you," you spat, even as your thighs clenched tighter around his hips.

That smirk—the one that always meant trouble—cut across his face.

"Exactly."

He scooped you up like you weighed nothing and dropped onto the couch, keeping you in his lap. His hips surged beneath you, cock grinding against you through his pants. Two fingers slipped into your panties and found your folds—slick and aching.

His breath left him in a hiss. "Goddamn."

He pushed one finger inside, and your body jolted like it had been lit. Then another—stretching you open, curling, finding, his thumb circling your clit like he was testing reactions for later.

"All that attitude and this is what's underneath? Fuck, you're soaked."

You cried out, hips jerking. Barely able to breathe, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

"Oh god—Kuroo, fuck—"

He cut you off with a filthy kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth while his fingers fucked into your pussy harder, faster—angling just right until your thighs were shaking and your moans melted into his mouth. His palm grinding against your heat until your whole body trembled.

Just when your release was right there—on the tip of your tongue—

He stopped.

You gasped, trembling. "What the fuck—"

He pulled away from you and laid flat across your couch. Eyes dark. Mouth wet. Dangerous.

"You wanted control?" he said, voice low and razor-sharp as he hauled your hips toward his face. "You've got it. Ride my face."

You didn't hesitate. You didn't think. You just moved—got naked, gripped his hair, and straddled his face, sinking down on his tongue with a broken, desperate sound. The way he groaned into your pussy when he tasted you sent a shiver through your spine.

You rolled your hips helplessly against his mouth—slick, shaking—tasting lightning on your tongue, the obscene wet sounds echoing in your bones.

He groaned into you, devoured you. Tongue working you open, lips sucking, dragging along your clit, his moans vibrating straight through your core. The grip on your hips was bruising—keeping you in place, forcing you to take everything he gave.

Your thighs shook as you rode his face, eyes rolled back, moaning so loud you were afraid your neighbors would hear. His tongue flattened and flicked, sucked and swirled, obscene noises pouring from his mouth and yours.

You came hard. Pathetically fast. Screaming his name like you were trying to curse him and beg him in the same breath, thighs locked around his head as his tongue fucked you through it.

But he didn't stop.

Didn't even slow down.

He kept going—licking, sucking, fucking you through the aftershocks, dragging you past the edge of sanity into pure overstimulation.

You squirmed, clawed at his arms, but he held you there until you were babbling nonsense, until your pussy was twitching and fluttering against his mouth.

Finally, he pulled you off his mouth and back into his lap—body limp, lips trembling. 

And that's when you felt it.

Really felt it.

His cock—rock-hard between your thighs.

He was big.

He sat up slowly, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like a fucking savage, like he was savoring the mess he'd made. His golden eyes blazing with something dangerous and hungry, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"I'm not done," he whispered.

His zipper came down with a sharp, metallic hiss, and you tried—really fucking tried—not to lose it, even as your blood surged and your knees barely held out long enough for him to shove his pants down.

But there was no fucking way you were giving up control that easily.

He reached for you—quick, instinctive—but you ducked under his arm, shoving him back onto the couch with a smirk that didn't match the chaos between your legs. He let you—head tilted, teeth bared like a predator indulging its prey.

Those cat-like eyes followed your every move—hungry. Unblinking. Waiting for the excuse to pounce.

"Your turn to listen," you said between his legs.

You yanked his pants down to mid-thigh, rough and unceremonious, your palms sliding over the thick heat straining against his soaked boxers. He was already dripping, the fabric clinging, sticky and damp with precum.

Kuroo's jaw ticked. His hands flexed against the couch cushions like he was fighting the urge to grab your throat.

Good.

"Not so smug now, are you?" you murmured, licking a slow, filthy stripe up the length of him through the fabric. You dragged your tongue over the head, felt it twitch violently beneath your mouth.

He groaned, low and wrecked, head dropping back, abs twitching as you mouthed at him again—and yet he didn't lose composure.

Not yet.

You hooked your fingers into his waistband and peeled it down, slow and deliberate, revealing all of him—hard, massive, gorgeous—and fuck, your breath caught.

Your lips hovered over the flushed, leaking head, so close the heat of him made your mouth water.

"Had me aching for days," you whispered. "Maybe it's time you beg."

That did it.

He grabbed you—fast, brutal—lifting and flipping you like you weighed nothing. A blur of motion and you were face-down on the cushions, ass up, thighs quivering—and his cock grinding against your dripping heat.

Then his hand slid between your legs—coating his fingers in your slick before you could curse. You moaned, helpless, spine arching, legs spreading wider like a traitor.

"You wanna act tough?" he growled into your ear, voice all gravel and heat. "Then why do you melt the second I touch you?"

"Fuck you—"

"You'd love that."

He lined up behind you, dragging the fat head of his cock through your folds, rubbing over your swollen clit again and again until your hips were jerking backward, chasing it, clenching around nothing, desperate to take him in—but his hand clamped hard at your waist.

"You're gonna behave," he murmured against your ear, smug and sharp. "Or I'll edge you until you cry."

You whimpered—pathetic and honest—and that bastard grinned against your skin and kissed the back of your neck like a reward.

Then he pushed in, slow and deliberate, like he had all day to ruin you. Each inch a taunt, a lesson. You choked on a curse, and he groaned—long and low—as he bottomed out.

"Oh my god," you choked out. "You're such a—"

SMACK!

His palm hit your ass—sharp, controlled. Not cruel. But dominant enough to make you gasp and clench around him like a vice.

"Keep running your mouth," he said, "let's see where it gets you."

Then he moved.

Hard. Brutal. Unrelenting.

Relentless. Perfect rhythm. Every thrust designed to ruin you.

Still—you fought back.

Still rolled your hips. Still matched his rhythm. Still snarled through your moans.

"Thought you were gonna break me," you rasped, voice shredded. "I'm still standing."

"You're shaking," he grunted—pleased.

He wasn't wrong. But you didn't stop. You twisted under him, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss so messy, so fucking desperate, your teeth clacked.

"I'm not tapping out," you growled against his lips.

His laugh curled dark and smug against your lips. "You will."

Then he flipped you again, shirt finally coming off—muscles taut, eyes wild. Your legs hooked over his shoulders. He slammed back in, deep enough to make you scream.

Your back arched, fingers scraping angry red lines down his arms.

"Say my name," he snarled.

You bit your lip. Refused. Really tried not to.

But then his hand snaked between your thighs—thumb zeroing in on your clit with ruthless precision, stroking you in tight, devastating circles, perfectly timed with his hips—and you broke.

"FUCK—Tetsurou—don't stop—!"

He silenced you with a kiss, messy and needy, one hand wrapping around your throat—not choking, just holding—like a leash.

"You like being fucked stupid, don't you?" he panted, voice thick, messy. "Fuck—such a sl—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, your fingers trembling but firm, and he immediately stopped. His eyes went wide—shocked, chest heaving.

"No." You whispered, voice soft but unshakable. "Not that."

Immediately—he shifted.

Tension eased from his jaw. The glint in his eyes softened.

He blinked, like he'd just realized he'd gone too far.

Then—softness.

He kissed your palm, slow and grounding. Turned his head to press his lips to your wrist—an apology in motion.

"Okay," he murmured, voice hoarse. "Got it."

He braced himself beside your head on his forearm. He let out a heavy breath, and you felt his cock twitch—even deeper in this angle, but tender in a way that made your chest ache.

When he moved again, it was still rough—but different.

Intentional.

He wasn't just fucking you now.

Only your name on his lips.

He kissed you between each thrust, murmured filthy praise into your skin—so tight, so good, meant for me—until you shattered around him with a cry that bordered on a sob.

But he didn't stop.

He fucked you through it, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline, until he buried his face in your neck, groaning your name like a curse, and pulled out just in time—his release hot and thick across your belly, his entire body trembling as he came undone.

He collapsed on top of you, gasping, drenched in sweat and slick, a mess of tangled limbs and overstimulated nerves.

For a long moment, there was only your breathing.

Then—your voice, hoarse and smug:

"So... what page of the textbook was that again?"

He laughed, breathless, hiding his face in your neck.

"Extra credit," he rasped.

You were still tangled together, skin slick, breaths slowing. His hand rested gently on your hip, thumb tracing soft circles like he hadn't just wrecked you five minutes ago—just to help you clean his mess right after, brushing the hair from your face like it mattered.

You hated that it made you feel... safe.

Your head fell back against the cushions as you tried to gather your thoughts—but they were scattered all over the room like your clothes. Your heart wouldn't stop racing. Not just from the sex—though God, that had been next level—but from him. The way he'd held you after you said no. The way he'd listened without flinching, shifted without hesitation.

It was the bare minimum, yeah—but it was messing with you.

The sudden change from absolute filth to softness was confusing you way more than you'd like to admit.

This wasn't supposed to be real. You were paying him, for fuck's sake. A fun excuse. A hot distraction. A stupid little crush you meant to burn through with one dirty, fast, no-strings fuck.

Not... this.

Not warm hands lingering after. 

Not this soft.

You let your eyes roam over his body as he lay beside you now—chest rising and falling, arm slung over his eyes like he didn't want you to see him. You stared anyway.

You took your time, tracing the sweat-slick curve of his chest, his stomach. Then, inevitably, your gaze returned to his face—beautiful, vulnerable, real. Dangerous in a way you hadn't planned for.

"Don't look at me like that..." he murmured.

"Why? Afraid I'll fall for you?" you replied, voice light, teasing—but not genuine.

He moved his arm to study your expression, eyes sharp.

"Don't worry, smart boy. I'm not that dumb. I know how this works."

He didn't answer. Just looked at you from beneath heavy lashes, unreadable.

For a second, you thought maybe he'd call your bluff. Say something smart. Something cutting. But instead, he just breathed out through his nose—quiet. Nodded once like it didn't bother him.

Like he hadn't felt it too.

Then he sat up—slow and lazy, like he didn't have a single thought in his pretty head.

"Post-nut clarity is a bitch," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. The words were casual. The tightness in his jaw wasn't. He grabbed his shirt off the floor, buttoning it up without looking at you.

There was a strange silence then. Not quite awkward. Just... thin. Like one wrong word might tear it wide open.

He swung his bag over his shoulder while you lit a cigarette.

"You don't have to walk me out," he said. Not cold, not warm. Neutral. Controlled. Like this was just another Thursday.

You nodded. "Didn't plan to."

He hesitated at the door, back still turned. "See you next session?"

Your chest tightened, but you gave a little shrug. "If you're not too busy solving the mysteries of the universe, sure."

He didn't laugh. Just glanced at you over his shoulder—and for a second, there was something in his eyes you couldn't name.

Then he left.

And that was it.

A conversation that didn't happen. A conversation that maybe should've.

But hey, it wasn't like things could get even more complicated, right?

...Right?

Next chapter↪

tags. @themoreeviltwin @taylordenae @rhea-sylvea @iluvikeu @tgnvhp @adangerousbalance @orphicarchive taglist open! let me know in the comments ♡

[pankowperfection]

His to Keep

Warnings: slightly dark JJ, branding, oral (f receiving), possessive JJ, 18+

A/N: haven't written anything in a while so please be nice. Unedited

You'd hurried to keep up with him as he ran away from the council meeting, the intent to cause some trouble clear in his eyes. You knew you shouldn't leave him alone which is why you found yourself standing idly by, watching in equal parts awe and horror as he took his rage out.

You'd never seen him like this, so reckless and angry. You hated to admit it but a very small part of you was extremely turned on at the sight of him losing control.

After what felt like hours you had finally convinced him to head to your secret hide out, the perfect spot to lay low until the heat died down.

He was pacing back and forth, clearly still extremely upset about what had gone down.

"I am just so sick of this shit y/n. I never get to keep anything, it all always manages to slip right through my fingers."

He still had that wild look in his eyes. Sweat coating his tan skin, hair perfectly messy. He'd honestly never looked sexier.

"That's not true J and you know it," you attempt to reason with him. "Just look. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere."

He gives you a dark chuckle, shadows dancing in his blue eyes in a way that makes him look nothing like the care-free surfer boy you were used to dealing with.

"Right. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before you leave too. Everyone always does."

He turns his back to you, leaning into the window frame and watching for any signs of trouble below. The way his shirt is clinging to his muscular back has your thoughts racing, desperate to find a way to calm him down.

An idea starts to form in the back of your mind, the image of him with the flame from the lighter dancing in his eyes flickering through your head, reminding you of the heat that had flushed through your system while you watched him take his own twisted sense of justice.

"I'm not going anywhere JJ. Let me prove it to you."

You quickly walk over to him, fishing around in his pocket before finding the lighter. You can see the questions dancing through his mind, wondering what you could possibly be up to. You hold it up between the two of you, knowing what you need to do to prove your loyalty.

"Mark me. Brand me with your ring so that everyone knows that I belong to you. That you own me. Permanently."

His pupils dilate, the black almost overtaking the blue as he scans your face for any kind of uncertainty. When he doesn't find any you watch the hunger take over. His lips are on you in an instant, tongue tracing the seam of your lips before demanding entry as he walks you back to the couch.

He quickly comes down on top of you, one hand tangling in your hair to angle your head just how he wants. His mouth leaves a blazing path down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking deep bruises into your skin. You know your panties are ruined, a few kisses from JJ and you could already feel the band tightening in your core.

"Fuck J, feels so good. I need you."

You feel him smirk against your skin, making quick work of your flimsy crop top to continue his handiwork. Each breast gets equal attention, teasing licks and kisses over your nipples before he sucks harshly, bruises forming instantly from the intense pressure. The build up has you babbling nonsense, begging him to please do something.

"Such a good girl f'me y/n," he whispers into your ear, his ringed fingers slowly climbing up the sensitive skin over the inside of your thigh. The cool metal makes you shiver, goosebumps spreading as he starts to slide down your body. Your knees part for him on instinct, hips arching up in search of the friction you desperately need.

He peels your shorts and panties off in one smooth motion, settling onto his knees between your parted legs. His broad shoulders pin you in place, not a single chance of getting away which only makes you wetter. You're unable to look away as his mouth trails up higher and higher, his warm breath tickling your aching pussy.

Without breaking eye contact he slides his signature ring off his finger, holding it with the end of his shirt before holding it in the flame from the lighter. The sight itself is enough to have you clenching around nothing, the warm colors from the flames bathing his tan skin in an orange glow.

"Eyes on me sweetheart," he commands, leaning down to lick an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Your body trembles at the simple touch, bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your pussy.

He wastes no time getting to work, his skilled tongue knowing just how to drive you crazy. The flattened surface of his tongue flicking over your clit has your eyes threatening to roll, legs starting to shake with how close to your release you are already.

At the exact right moment he presses the hot metal into the skin of your inner thigh. His free hand joins the mix, two fingers roughly thrusting into you. The pleasure mixed with the pain sends you right over the edge, falling apart with a scream as you watch him brand you.

The way his eyes are glued to his mark on your skin is one of the hottest things you've ever seen. His breathing is almost as ragged as yours, the tent in his shorts a tell tale sign of just how much he enjoyed marking you as his. By the feral look in his eyes you knew the night was far from over, hoping you had enough energy to show him just how devoted you are to being his.

[thewritergx]

Jackson: Joel Miller x F!Reader: Part 1

Summary: Sat 1 year after Ellie and Joel find a home in Jackson. Joel is plagued with thoughts of ruining the sweet girl his brother rescued. A series of Joel destroying all your innocence. 

Warnings: Mentions of guns. Knife use. Smut Containing: Age Gap (Joel is 57, undisclosed age for reader but I picture her around 28). Praise Kink, Kissing, Fingering, Gentle Dom!Joel, Innocent Reader, Virgin Reader. Its giving corruption kink, lowkey free use kink at times. So many pet names I can’t even list them out. 

Word Count: 5.5K

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click Here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @plum98. Text Color Generator. If you'd like more Joel Miller stories, please go check out @pearlessance. 

If Joel Miller had been told a year ago that he would be finding solace comfort between the legs of a woman half his age, he would have laughed until all the air in his lungs was depleted, leaving him bright red in the face. The last thing Joel ever considered himself was a ‘dilf’ but behind the impenetrable walls of Jackson, you were clinging onto him like he was made of the finest metals. A handful of gold and pearls in your unwavering grip.

He never meant for it to turn out this way. He didn’t mean to have you accidentally clenched around his fingers in an anguished void of eroticism. Yet there he was, dismantling every particle of decency he had remaining in his traumatized psyche. 

Joel wasn’t sure why he was so intrigued by you. He couldn't point it to a singular trait or moment in time. Maybe you made him feel young again, like a teenage hot for teacher. Maybe it was the way your eyes wrinkled slightly when you smiled up at him. Maybe it was the way you leaned into his touches, no matter how faint.  All he knew was that the sound of your voice stimulated his body with a deadly erotic static every time he spoke to you. Forbidden and illicit as your lips brushed against his. 

Joel and Ellie had just begun settling in the new city when you showed up. It was a dull morning, the sun just starting to rise over the horizon as snow drizzled down the frozen air. Joel had been sitting on his newly furnished porch, polishing a rifle to perfection and sipping on a piping hot coffee. His tired eyes fluttered closed, warm steam from his mug hitting his face. He was never a fan of the cold, having grown up under the hot Texas sun,  but he was starting to find peace in the frigid atmosphere. His usual racing mind was void, an uncommon and strange occurrence since the outbreak began. He allowed himself half a second of relaxation, his broad shoulders easing into a rickety vintage chair. 

Even in this secure environment, he knew not to let himself get too comfortable. Startled by the image of his brother’s wobbling tracks against the snowy ground, his eyes widened. Tommy’s slender strides buckled. It looked like he was carrying something. Something Joel couldn't quite make out from the distance between them. He stood on alert, his coffee almost spilling as he slammed the porcelain mug on a feeble side table. Joel stomped through the arctic powder, a white-knuckled grip on his rifle. Tommy struggled to keep going, falling to his knees with a hard ‘thud’. Joel swore he felt his heart stop. The only audible sound was his blood vessels restricting, the air in his lungs hindered by his hasty steps. Tommy was never a weak man, but the time spent walking back to camp, the weight in his arms, and the heavy snowfall had exhausted him to the point of complete collapse. 

“Tommy!” The concern in Joel’s tone was palpable, his strong arms grabbing his brother. Joel snaked his hands under Tommy’s shoulders, supporting his weight and pulling him from the soiled ground. Finally, Joel could recognize the undisclosed package in Tommy’s grip. A girl. She looked freezing, her cheeks a bright red and slow breaths crackled. 

“Fuck, give her to me.” Joel’s heart pounded, rushing to take you in his arms. You were feather-like in his arms, weightless as he pressed you against his chest. The thin jacket you wore hardly provided any fight against the icy rain that trickled down but Joel had hoped his body heat would be enough to provide some type of warmth. He rushed you to the infirmary, his stride incalculable and unstoppable. He had practically thrown you inside, placing you under multiple layers of thick blankets. You looked almost peaceful, but your body was shivering and your skin a ghostly pale white. 

Time passed and Joel, along with Tommy, had spent days at your bedside. They had made sure you were taken care of, helping you drink water, and making sure you got enough to eat. Strangely, Tommy was thankful for the practice, knowing a new baby was waiting for him at home. Once you had recovered and could leave the infirmary, you really didn’t have any other place to go except Joel’s. Tommy had found you alone in the woods, but he had just started his own family. Plus, It didn’t really feel right leaving Joel after he had watched you at your worst. Alone and with no other choices, you moved into the spare bedroom right down the hall from him and Ellie. 

This particular day had been one straight from his most lustful nightmares. Like every day, he was in charge of weapon maintenance, foot patrol, and a newer annoyance. Training new recruits. Joel had not given much thought to teaching the younger members of Jackson how to protect themselves. But he was glad he could be of some use, especially with the way certain members still looked at him like he was a threat. Like he might bust down the doors in a blaze of ranging gunfire at any moment. He tried his best to build new connections, build a new life for Ellie and himself. A life his brother would be proud of. In the newfound dystopia he had begun to call home, he never expected you to be so motivating. You were a lot like him in certain ways. Quiet. Unapproachable. This made Joel want to do good, guarantee you were proud of him. 

For the last three months, you had haunted the halls of what was once Joel’s newly perfect home. As perfect as you could these days, anyway. You were always lurking. Your tight little body sprawled out on the couch, your hair fallen forgotten in the bathroom sink, your toothbrush in the same cup as his. It was too much for an old man’s fatigued heart to take. 

To make matters worse, Joel was in charge of training you. Every day, it was shooting, hand-to-hand combat, or teaching you how to use makeshift medical supplies. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but teaching you how to shoot a gun might have been the best thing left in this godforsaken world.

Joel would stand close behind you, wrapping his fingers around your hands to help you aim better. He would try to ignore it, but the way your tiny hands gripped the gun under his fingers was enough to spring his cock to life. He wondered if you could feel it pressed against your back as he leaned down, lowering his voice. His breath would be all hot and slow in your ear while he told you what a good job you were doing. You always tried to keep your reactions to his words internal, but god some days all you wanted was for him to press you against the wall and trap you against him as he explored your body with his calloused hands. Surely, he had to know. He had to sense how much you loved it, the simplest of touches having you weak in the knees. 

Despite Joel's love for the shooting range, bullets couldn’t be wasted and through his discontent, you were a surprisingly great shot. That meant today’s focus was hand-to-hand combat. A special type of torment in which you quickly grew fond of. You worked on blocking punches, throwing someone off you, and other easy ways to stab the infected. This kind of practice often required Joel to push you around, grab you tight against him, or hover his full body weight above you.

Joel huffed, his chest expanding with each heavy breath as he laid under you, his muscles firming around your strong grip on you pinned his arms down.  

“Ya learn quick,” he grunted, bending his knee to lock you in place as you sat atop him. This was one of the moments when he couldn’t stop picturing you naked. He imagined the way your tits would bounce in this position, perfect for him to wrap his hand around your throat or gently slap your cheek. 

You pushed off him, holding a hand up as he struggled to pick himself up off the ground. 

“Yeah well, you’re a good teacher”. You rolled your eyes, taking his hand in yours and balancing your weighing as you helped him off the plush grass.

“Yeah. Alright, square up. Let's go again, darlin” Joel stood in front of you, tightly wielding a sharp knife in his hands. He was always giving you pet names like that, the words falling from his lips and landing between your legs like rain. You watched as his jaw clenched, muscles in his arms flexing as he threw a jab at you. You swerved your body, quicking jumping out of the way and hitting the knife out of his hands. The blade landed with a thud, leaving Joel weaponless. 

“Yes! See, that was perfect.” Joel smiled, his broad shoulders spreading as he stretched his arms out. He wasn’t lying, you learned far quicker than he liked to admit, the end of your training with him just a few weeks away. “That's enough for today. Gettin’ kinda late”. Joel patted your back, a simple praise of how well you performed.

All Joel really wanted at this moment was to get you underneath him, and not in the “pretend to fight me off” type of way. In a way that would have you whimpering his name and your legs quivering. 

He tried to keep the invasive urges at bay, forcing himself as far away from you as the enclosed space of Jackson would allow. Even after avoiding you until dusk, your touch lingered on him like a parasite, eating at his tanned skin until it was all mushy and broken. He would be successful for a brief time, maybe even until the morning if he was lucky. Training you every day was gradually unraveling him. Bit by bit until he was losing control, a constant internal conflict raging inside himself. He could stay at a distance for now, but in the end, he could never truly escape you. 

For you, that evening had gone by so painfully slow, your body begging for some type of release. You had slipped into a comfortable pair of panties, the material hugging your ass softly. You lazily threw on an oversized t-shirt and crawled under the thick blankets of your bed, heavy as a bag of rocks thrown down the stairs. The bed was warm and through exhaustion, your eyes quivered closed. Flashes of Joel’s hands on you, pinning you down and throwing you around invaded your thoughts. All the training along with your daily tasks had depleted every ounce of your strength, but Joel sent a jolting rush of stamina through your nervous system. 

You let yourself lean into your desires, lethargically reaching your hands down to the bundle of nerves insistent on your affection. Any other day you might have been strong enough to ignore the ache, but today you were weak. Today you were consumed by it. Your hands found your panties in a pathetic desperation, a faint wet spot darkening the material at your core as you began to rub merciful circles. You bit your lip, a jagged inarticulate sound escaping. Your fingers moved delicately, needy and wet from an entire day of training, your subconscious daydreaming to get back into your room and play with yourself. 

The only problem with this was you weren't really any good at it. You knew how it worked, all the parts, and what you were supposed to do with them. You just couldn't reach the ‘end’ that so many people raved about. You tried an endless amount of times, even thought about hooking up with random guys you had stumbled upon in the past. But it never felt right, forcing yourself to be with someone just because they were the only one around. You had decided the high that other women described must have been a complete lie. Still, you learned different angles, different ways to finger yourself, and all types of tricks. Something was always missing, an extra sensation that would push you over the edge always out of reach.

Your index and middle finger created a slight friction on your clit, a rough buttery sensation against your panties. Goosebumps formed across your body as you feebly slid the restricting cotton down, spreading your legs to give yourself better access to pleasure. You added some spit to your fingers, a hushed wail slipping as you continued making small circles, biting your bottom lip harder and throwing your head back. You shut your eyes tight, the sound of Joel telling you ‘Good girl, that's perfect’ and all his other innocent compliments replaying. You sped your movements up, adding more pressure to the sensitive nerves. It felt adequate, but you knew it wouldn’t last. You needed more. Delicately, you dipped your finger inside your crying pussy. Your walls gripped around your finger, sucking it in further like it was starving. You curled the digit, trying to hit that spot that was just out of range. You hardly grazed it, your g-spot unobtainable. After a lengthy time of great strive your finger became slick, drowned in your juices but nowhere closer to the finish line. You groaned, your arms already becoming tired from the relentless pumping.

“Ya know, you’re doin’ that totally wrong.” A familiar voice spoke out from the dim light of the room, a dark silhouette basked in moonlight. 

You threw your blankets over you, jumping under the covers and removing your fingers quickly. You stared, frozen. Even in the dark with shadows hiding his facial features, you could make Joel out. Your mouth fell agape as Joel stood against the wall, his weight on his back foot. He crossed his toned arms across his chest condescendingly, watching in silence.

“Oh my god! You scared the fuck out of me. What are you doing?” You spoke fast, voice revealing how obviously embarrassing the interaction was.

“Couldn’t sleep. Head a noise. Thought you were cryin’. Came to check on ya.” Joel took a step closer, his eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed in a slight frown. “Didn’t mean to interrupt but…I can see you’re strugglin’ I can help…If you want.”

You racked your brain to find the words adequate enough to articulate your racing mind, watching as Joel stood, shirtless and chest completely exposed. You could see him now, the muscles in his arms, the scar where he stabbed. God, you didn't get to see him like this nearly enough. In fact, now that you thought about it, you weren't sure if you had ever seen him shirtless at all. Greying hair lightly peppered his chest, a trail running from his belly button to the clothed fabric around his waist. You were nearly drooling, his boxers hugging his thighs. 

“I-I”. Your chest rose and fell, your heart beating quicker than you were used to as you tried to make sense of his words. “H-help me ho-how?”

“Been standin’ here for a while. You're not comfortable enough, ya need to relax. To be honest, ya look scared,” Joel chuckled, his face a bit flushed but words nonchalant and composed. “I consider myself a pro in this area. I could show ya how to make it better.” 

“I know how to do it”, you snapped. You cut your eyes at him, a sudden rush of anger slapping you in the face. Who was he to tell you how to masturbate? He didn't own a vagina. You doubted he could do it better than you. 

Joel peered deep into your eyes, his stance at attention like a soldier in formation. He wasn’t going to budge. You knew he didn't believe you, not if he really had been watching like he said.

“Okay then, little girl. Show me…if you're so good at it”. Joel stood in place, like a stone unmovable. 

You felt pathetic, peering up at him with white-hot embarrassment. A switch broke and you had given in so easily. You didn’t put up a fight for a second, your core pleading for your attention to return to the earlier movements. “O-Okay”, you whined, laying back down and moving the blanket towards the foot of the bed. You let yourself diminish into the mattress completely, your body on view for him. You trembled, silently spreading your legs and scooping up the wetness dripping out of you. You placed your finger back inside, humming at the little pleasure it gave you. 

Joel let out a groan “That’s a good girl. Play with that pussy for me”. The tone in his voice was new to you, smooth like he had just drunk a hot tea. His jaw clenched shut, teeth clashing tight as sounds of your wetness vibrated off the walls. He wondered how often this occurred, how many times he slept through your cries of need. He moved across the room with a leisurely pace, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you sprawled out in front of him, body hypnotizing him. You felt the bed sag under his weight, achingly close but untouchable. You curled your finger more, listening to his hitched breathing and closing your eyes again. It was strange, him watching you like this. You tried your hardest to hit the right spot, letting out a huff of frustration and reluctantly removing your fingers, making circles around your clit again. It was clear to both of you. You had no idea what you were doing.

Usually, Joel preferred his women experienced, liked them a little loose and pre-used. He could be rougher that way, less careful, and more spontaneous. But fuck, you looked so fucking pretty, begging to cum but unable to do anything about it. He was sure he died and woke up in his personal heaven. 

Fuck, he couldn't believe he was doing this. He was supposed to be the man keeping you safe, not the one sneaking into your bedroom at night and making a mess of you. Joel hummed, watching the slight shake in your legs grow with anticipation of a climax you would never reach on your own.

Before you could stop him, too focused on proving him wrong and torturing the both of you, he was gently grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from your aching pussy. 

“Just let me... know ya need me. You were sayin’ my name, ya know?” The look in his eyes had changed from a hungry desire to a desperate soft plea, his voice a whisper in the suffocating quiet of the bedroom. He never had to be this cautious before, never really paying much mind to what his actions might result in. 

You thought for a moment, looking into Joel’s eyes for any sense of danger. He didn’t turn away, didn’t loosen his grip. But in his eyes, you could see it, helpless wanting. His shoulders dropped as he waited for any type of response that would allow him to come closer.

“O-Okay,” you whined, “t-thank you”. 

Joel crept forward, sympathetically hooking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rested against his chest, legs on either side of his muscled thighs. His skin was smooth, warm like a campfire and his breath on your neck heated you even more under the chill of the snowy mountains. Throughout the months of getting to know the unmerciful brooding man, you had never gotten the opportunity to be this close, this intertwined.

“Like this, soft and slow” Joel whispered, positioning his fingers on the sides of your swollen lips. He moved unhurriedly like he had pressed a button and frozen time around you. In his mind, he never had to leave this room, all the time in the world to watch you fall apart. Tactfully he spread your lips apart to reveal the slick wetness leaking out of you.

“Fuck.” Three fingers hovered above your clit, the motions tender as they moved in repeated circles “What's got ya all worked up, pretty girl?” The pads of his fingertips absorbed the saliva you had paced there moments ago. 

“Nothing,” you swallowed, your words already strained in the back of your throat. Despite your earlier presumption, Joel could do this better than you. He was proving you wrong each time his fingers slid across, shockwaves forcing you to admit defeat. 

Joel hummed, watching his fingers soak in your juices. “Think it was probably me, huh?” 

Shane crept up on your skin, your cheeks impossibly more flushed. You shouldn’t admit it. That it was him. That it was his words.“I-I…just like the way you talk to me, is all.” The words came out a strained whine, leaning into him and spreading your legs wider, watching his delicate fingers dancing across your needy skin. 

“Yeah? Ya like when I tell you what a good job you're doin’? What a good girl ya are?” His voice was so light, his Texas accent almost innocent. Like he was talking to a baby. 

“Y-yeah”, you nodded your head, the simple four-letter word feeling like a monologue as you spoke them.

“I do it ‘cuz I know ya like it”. Joel listened to the way you responded to his touch. He had to get this perfect. Had to make sure you knew he was more than capable of handling your little ‘problem’.

Quiet ‘ohs’ quickly streamed from you, Joel’s fingers melting you into him. You tried to keep quiet, hoping no one could hear you through the thin walls of the house. Joel silently prayed that Ellie was already asleep, his heartbeat thudding at the thought of her finding out what was going on in the room a few feet across from her.

Joel quickened his pace, your clit swollen around his fingers, thick arousal coating them. He hummed into your neck, and you tensed. “Relax”, was all Joel had to say for you to nod your head and stretch your neck out. His lips feel to the exposed skin, placing serene kisses under your ear. He left a burning hot trail with his lips, his beard brushing against the delicate skin. He sucked a bright red spot where he felt you liked it the most, low enough for your shirt to mostly cover but still marking you his. The added sensation caused you to stir your hips, your legs and hands shaking.

“Try and stay still, baby. Keep movin’ like that and you're gonna drive me crazy,” Joel mumbled, his free hand wrapped tight around your waist. 

Joel dragged that hand up your body, placing it tenderly on your cheek. He turned your head as much as your neck would allow, a loud moan falling out of you as he brushed his lips against yours. His tongue danced liberally inside your mouth. Your perfect plump lips parted for him without a hint of hesitation, mint and beer thick on your tastebuds. His mustache kind of tickled, the hair grazing your lips. You tried to breathe through your nose as Joel sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, fingers still determined on shattering your sanity. You couldn’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, warm saliva spreading across your mouth and chin. You felt drunk against him, almost powerless in his grip.

Joel pulled away, a growl escaping him as you breathed heavily against him. “Goddamn. That’s my sweet girl”. You swallowed hard at his words, a sense of pride filling you.

“Can I put a finger in you, darlin’?” Joel slowed his circles, reaching lower, finally gathering as much of your natural lube as he could. He was collected, so much more confident than you.

You shook your head, a hesitant ‘yes, please’ was all you could respond. You were positive you looked a mess, but something told you Joel didn’t care. 

Joel hummed, “Yeah? Do me a favor then, sweetheart.” Joel brought his hand to your mouth, fingers lingering on your lips. “Get those nice and wet for me”.

You hesitated, looking back at Joel to find his brown irises, darker and glazed over more than that usual. You self-consciously wrapped your lips around his fingers, only spreading your lips enough to fit them inside. Your teeth grazed against him, the rough pads of his fingers dancing across your tongue. They left a taste of your bitter-salty arousal thick on your tastebuds.

“That’s it. You always listen to me so well”. Joel’s cock twitched at the view of your cheeks hollowing around him. It was bizarre how kindhearted he presented himself, his usual rough exterior completely gone. You wondered if this was the real Joel, one no one else got to see. 

Joel watched as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, spit coating down to his knuckles. His breathing grew ragged, watching your eyes grow dark with lust as he hit the back of your throat. He studied your reaction, your eyes growing wider at the sensation of being so full. You strained, a muted cough slipping from you as he shoved them persistently deeper. You were taking them well, even through the obvious struggle. 

Joel removed his fingers from your warm mouth, slick and shiny with a mix of your spit and slick. He lowered his hand to your clit again. Hesitantly, with eyes glued between your legs again, he slipped one finger past your folds and inside your velvet walls. You sucked in a deep breath at the feeling, startled as he curled his index finger. It was so much thicker, longer than yours and the gentle stretch flowed through your veins like water on a hot summer day. 

“How’s that feel?” Joel tried not to focus on how fucking tight you were, his mind daydreaming of what you would feel like wrapped around him, all fucked out on his bed. 

“Oh god,” you whined, voice shakier than you wanted it to be, and your hips returned back to that involuntary bucking. “G-good”. His finger brushed against your G-spot, little cries echoing in Joel’s ear. This was what you were missing all these years. A real man’s touch.

“I know, baby girl. I know. Gonna take such good care of ya, just like I always have” Joel placed a kiss on your shoulder, his finger pumping in and out at a controlled speed. His movements were like a drug, clouding your judgment. “Think you take another? Or is this too much already?”. 

“P-please”, You tried not to beg too much, the pathetic whine in your voice striking Joel like a punch to the gut. Fuck, he would do anything you said right now. Anything.

“Always so determined,” Joel smirked, hypervirulently aware that you probably hadn’t taken this much before. Cautiously, he dipped a second finger inside you, stretching you with a heavenly sting. It was unfamiliar but invited and your body sucked him in further. It was more than your fingers could ever do and suddenly you understood why sex ruled everyone’s lives. 

A wet sloppy sound filled the room and Joel pumped his fingers with a presentation purpose, a hint of strength behind each minuscule gesture. Joel growled, spreading your legs wider and pulling you further into him, fully in his lap now. You felt his bulge press against your back rock hard. You couldn't stop imagining how big he was. It felt so thick against you, like a 9.mm gun in his waistband.

His fingers were a velvet robe encasing you. It was almost too much and you felt an uncomfortable heat building in the pit of your stomach. Joel felt you clench tighter around him and he knew you were close. “There you go, sweetheart”.

“Oh fuck, wait wait wait.” You tried your hardest not to scream, but the squelching sounds Joel’s fingers created were pushing you over the edge. 

You felt the man under you tense up, every fiber of his muscles firming. Regrettably, he stopped the movement of his fingers, leaving them frozen inside. 

“What's wrong? You okay?” A thick hint of concern or maybe fear just behind his words.

“I-I…kind of felt like I was gonna pee, is all.” your cheeks flushed, burning with unease. 

Joel hummed, moving his fingers again and ripping moans from you. “That’s good,” Joel chuckled, focused on keeping his fingers at a constant pace, “Means it’s workin”. He placed a hot trail of kisses down your neck again, biting at the skin.

You moaned at his words, that unfamiliar heat steadily finding its way back into you. Your legs shook almost uncontrollably, and you had to grip onto Joel's forearm to keep from slipping off his thighs.

“That’s it. Feel how you're clenchin’ ‘round me, gettin’ all wet and shaky under me?” You nodded at his words. “Just relax into me, baby girl.” You arched your back, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from screaming out.

The feeling of needing to pee was replaced with something unnamable crashing through your entire body. “Yes, oh my god!” you cried, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up into his hand. 

“That’s it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers,” Joel kept his moments sharp, making sure to coax out every drop the orgasm had to offer. After your shaking stopped and your cries settled back down, he eased his fingers out of you. Your arousal leaked down your core, a puddle forming under your ass onto the exposed skin of Joel’s thigh. 

“Did so good,” Joel kissed your cheek, rubbing small circles on your clit again as you cried out. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers and trailing up your arms until he settled past your shoulder and into your neck. 

“Oh, fuck. Thank you, Joel”. You weren't sure why you felt the need to thank him, but you had to make sure you said it.

“You’re welcome, darlin’. Know I'd do anything for ya, right?”  His voice was soft and airy, slightly out of breath. 

You tried to focus on his words, your orgasm still thick in your mind. You closed your eyes, a wave of exhaustion hitting you like a brick wall. You nodded your head silently, lips parting as your heavy chest rose and fell. 

Joel smiled, he didn't even need to be inside you to feel euphoria. Being close, just talking to you was enough. Sex was just an added pleasure. But, fuck, he couldn't wait to show you more. He wanted to completely ruin you. He was a terrible person, he thought, but he didn't care at all. Not with the way you breathed against him, your head heavy on his chest as your eyes fluttered closed. 

It would be weird to stay, Joel thought. As he silently watched your chest expand against him, the thought occurred that he might get too used to this, already craving to rewire you into a whining slut. A little toy he could at any time. He was stressed, overworked, and constantly worried about Ellie. About you. Maybe he had finally found a way to release some of that pressure, even for a moment. Joel ran his thick fingers through your hair, admiring the way your body benignly twitched at the sensation. 

Sleep came and went in waves for Joel. Some nights, if he was so exhausted and worn out from a hard day of work, you could hear his snoring echoing through the docile home. Other nights you woke up to the sound of screams and then an earth-shattering quiet. Like he yelled so hard he woke himself up too. The mornings after a night like that always resulted in a moody, quiet Joel. Like his mind was racing with so many visions he couldn’t even speak. But right now, Joel’s mind raced with different thoughts. Less violent but just as powerful and forsaken. He wondered how far you would let him go with this little game. Maybe he could show you all the tricks he had built up over the years, all his experience preparing him for this. Leading up to please you. To make you his. It was wrong. He knew that. Of course, he knew that. But as your hand settled on his pectoral muscle, he felt nothing but unwavering satisfaction. 

The town already hated him. He was already a mysterious murderous stranger. What would ruining a girl half his age really change? Sure he would be berated and probably receive double the glances of disapproval but as long as you were under him, begging him to fuck you harder what did any of it matter. 

As he laid under you, his cock throbbing and begging to be released, he dreamed of shoving it in your mouth. He dreamed of watching you struggle to take it, choking on the head of his dick as it slipped between your supple lips. Maybe you would even like it, beg him for it when he was supposed to be teaching you how to live in a world full of danger. All the risk, all the pain and suffering this new era threw at him disappeared at the sound of your pleas. All he wanted was for you to gag on him with tears streaming down your face. 

He was a bad man. He knew it because behind all the need, all the repressed yearning for your innocent cunt, there was not a hint of guilt. Not the slightest bit of sympathy. To be honest, it shocked him. He thought he would care more about disgracing you. He hoped he wouldn't even be able to function, intense and unweaving regret causing him to suck himself back into the dark reality of this world. But it never came. That was the first moment he knew for sure the people of Jackson had been right. He really was a bad man.��

[finalgirlmorgue]

🍵༘PANCAKES🥯⊹ ࣪ ˖

„⤵ MILD ANGST and fluff! „⤵ 2 / (?) PARTS „⤵ JASON TODD X READER Jason is getting settled in his new home, after showing up at your door last night. Jason is a dead man walking, but he still needs you. Read PT 1 here! AFFECTION ROTS Reblogs much appreciated

The two of you eventually found the couch. You sat next to him, putting a throw pillow's distance between the two of you. Much to his disappointment. Jason was more clingy then he had ever been before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. A few hours passed. You had both fallen asleep sometime after midnight. That morning he explained everything as best as he could to you, his death at the hands of the joker, the crowbar, the ressurection. Despite the granted confusion you followed as best you could. He told you everything. Everything that happened from the moment he died. He really missed you, despite the two of you being dumb in love teeangers. He still saw a future with you, and you were wary to admit you weren't sure you saw the same. He was diffrerent. Bigger, taller, stronger. And somehow more alive, than anything before. “I'm sorry." You managed to say. You felt like such a coward. You couldn't handle touching him, or holding his hand.

“I can't blame you. It'll take some time." He said sadly. You could see in his eyes that he was blaming himself. "You're doing great… I really am proud of you. Just wish we could've done all this… together, y'know?" he said the last part quietly, almost a whisper. You looked down, unable to hold eye contact.

"Things are a little bit different now. You know that right? I can't change my past. Even though I'd like to." You spoke slowly. "You know, it's gonna take some time. I don't regret our relationship. Never have."

”You're serious, huh?" he raised an eyebrow. It was nearly commical. You were devestating him with every word you spoke. "I wanted us to do this forever, you know? Like… forever. You've always been on my mind.. guess I should've known things weren't gonna stay the same. You're not fifteen anymore.." he mumbled.

He had a faraway look in his eye. You wondered how much of this story he had clearly made up inside his mind depended on you reciprocating his tender feelings. But you knew this was his way of trying to comfort you, despite his broken soul. He would give you time… "Do you remember our first date?" He suddenly asked. He smiled shyly, looking down at his lap. The image came unbidden to your mind, vivid and perfect. You remembered how much effort he put into planning. He was more thorough then any man. He was attentive, and a good listener. So why were you hesitant..? Maybe it was his dependency. “Um. Yes I remember- Um.. do you want breakfast?.." You said weakly, standing up and turning towards the kitchen, leaving him to his own thoughts. "I can make us something quick…" You heard him sigh in disappointment. When you finally turned around again, his elbows were on his knees. He was curled into himself. You knew he was trying to be strong. But it was hard to admire his strengths when he looked so pitiful.. It broke your heart. "I'm making pancakes.. Do you want some? They're grainy but- edible." You offered hesitantly.

“Yeah.. sounds good.” His voice cracked. He didn’t have a good relationship with food. After the truama of his death and even before that with the joker, he hadn’t been hungry at all. He never wanted food.. and when he did it threw it up promptly. Food always felt unsafe to him. And that included food cooked by you.. which seemed ironic, because he would have worshipped the ground beneath you if you asked him to.

He wondered if he watched the whole process of cooking from start to finish if he would feel better about it. He could trick his brain into understanding he was safe.

“God you’re so gorgeous..” He sighed. “I’m tired of falling for you all over again… s’not fair. Why can’t I have you?” You paused, setting the pan on the stove as it heated up. Melting the butter into a bubbly golden liquid. There was no denying he had changed a lot. He went from 4”6 to an even 6 foot. You could see the stretch marks that painted his hips whenever he lifted his arms up. Despite your ‘disinterest’ in him romantically, you would still take small peeks and glances whenever his shirt rode up, revealing some of the new muscle he had gained.

His sudden growth wasn’t unwelcome, it was just shocking that he had grown that much within the span of a few years. Especially considering he had always been smaller than you.

But you had accepted his advances with only halfhearted interest. Even if he was a handsome behemoth of a man today. But it was hard to deny the fact that when he looked at you like he did now, you felt a lingering warmth.

He hadn’t lost his charm. He still knew how to make you blush and smile. But maybe you were too afraid of losing what you shared with him.. again..

As you began making the pancake mix he kept his gaze trained on you and the food. He was obviously enthralled with it.. “I like strawberries.” He smiled softly, watching you work through the recipe. He’d always loved watching you cook. It reminded him of home.. it was vaguely reminiscent of Alfred. Even if he hated the Waynes he still missed having a family. “They remind me of you.” He continued. “Those soft, shiny pinkish red ones…” You nodded along to his words. He was always so sentimental.. “They smell like spring.” He added, smiling slightly. You felt yourself relax at his words. He could be sweet sometimes, despite the fact he was now, 10x his size, strength, and power. He was probably better at a lot of things now, you didn’t want to know what he would do to any of the failed relationships you had in your contacts still... But it was clear he still had that innocent side that you once loved. Jason was like weathered plastic in the garden, his old self was fading, but the spots where the sunlight hadn’t burned away the old Jason todd were still as vibrant and tender as ever. He seemed happier than usual too. His cheeks had begun to lighten up again, his skin seemed to glow from just having seen you again.

The food was ready, and you brought him over to the table. “I’m not an amazing cook, but I hope it’s okay….” You handed him the fork. He was silent for a while, staring at the plate in front of him.

“I uh.. I’m usually not so good with food but this does look really good I promise. It feels like I constantly have the flu. My mind is all fucking broken.."

"You deserve a break." You said, sitting opposite of him across the table. Your fingers intertwined tightly with your own beneath the table, under the table. You tried to suppress your nerves. He needed comfort and support now, you couldn't give him more. "You're here.. With me.. That's something." You said, trying to encourage him.

“I still want you. So bad..” He mumbled. His fork clinked against his plate as he set it down gently. You took a deep breath. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t ready to talk about your problem with the matter of your relationship. You just wanted him to eat, and try to get better..

“Jason-“ You warned.

“Do you still love me?” He interrupted. He was trying to sound calm, but he was clearly agitated. The question threw you off guard. He looked at you with wide, desperate eyes. “Answer honestly. I need to know.” You hesitated.

“Yes.” You answered truthfully, not able to hide the hurt on your face.

“You don’t even want to touch me…” he muttered dejectedly.

“You died- I was at your funeral.. I don’t understand how your here right now..” you said firmly. “I’m just… confused, ok? I thought I understood everything..” You were trembling. You knew he saw, he understood. You didn’t know how to deal with the guilt gnawing at your stomach.. You hated seeing him this upset. “I miss you..” he whispered, staring at you with pleading eyes.

You lowered your gaze and shook your head. “I’m sorry- you.. Do you have a place to stay?..”

“Are you kicking me out?..”

“Well no- but I feel bad for making you sleep on the couch.” You explained. “You’ve done nothing wrong.. I’m sorry… do you want to stay?”

He remained silent and slowly ate the food placed in front of him. His lips forming into a thin line. He looked exhausted. But he was eating the meal you had made, albeit reluctantly and very slowly. It took him about 20 minutes, as he finished every bite without looking up or saying a word.

“Yeah. I want to stay here for a bit.” He replied after he finished chewing. You nodded, relieved. He pushed back the chair and stood up. He looked exhausted.

“I’ll get you some blankets.” You said quietly, walking back to your room to bring some out to him. While searching your closet, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Your body froze for a split second. Just Jason.. Just Jason…. Then you relaxed. You pulled out two fluffy blankets. You walked back towards him, throwing them over his shoulders. He let out a content sigh at the warmth. “It smells like you…” he mused. He looked so at peace. Like you had injected life into him for the first time since he got here.

He grabbed one pillow from your bed and squeezed it. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft material against his skin. You couldn’t help but smile softly. He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky. A sense of wonder and relief washing over his features. He turned to the doorway, making his way to the living room.

The television flickered dimly on your TV stand. Your DVD’s stacked high, mostly disney and other classics. “I love you so much..” he murmured, looking around your home.

“I…” You paused. “Know.. you do..” you trailed off, not knowing how else to respond. It felt weird hearing those words come from him. You spent nights hoping to hear those exact words just.. one more time. Hearing them now..

“Where were you?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming guilt weighing down your chest.

“Oh y’know…” He shrugged. “Just…” he laughed awkwardly before sitting down on the couch. “Just running around doing shit. Nothing serious.” He admitted. “But I was able to find you eventually. I actually used to sit in the parking lot and stare at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it..” he looked embarrassed to admit that, scratching the side of his jaw. You chuckled lightly at that image. “You should have seen it, though! I sat there until my legs went numb and then I finally decided to walk away because I felt kinda creepy sitting there watching like that..” He grinned, remembering how pathetic and childish it sounded. “But, I had to see you last night. I had to talk to you... See how you were...” He said, sadly. “God…I’m really messed up.” He sighed, dropping his gaze onto the floor. You frowned as you noticed his mood swing.

“I missed you too-… I’m glad you’re back, and I’m sorry I’m being so cold.” You apologised.

He gave you an understanding glance, “you can be pretty difficult to read these days.. I just.. I hope you can understand my intentions. I still want you.”

“Night Jay.” You stood up, attempting to run away from the topic. “I have class in the morning. I gotta get some sleep. I have a presentation coming up.” You walked towards the bedroom, but stopped. You didn’t want to leave him alone yet. What happened wasn’t fair. “I’ll be back around 12 or so.. tomorrow.”

“Goodnight baby.” He sighed, laying down on the couch. You smiled at his nickname.

He stayed sleeping in his makeshift bed the whole evening, until 4 am or so when he slipped out from the blankets and into your room. He was just getting up to check on you, but eventually it became him… getting a closer look.. getting in bed. and passing out next to you. These blankets were big enough to cover him completely, no cold feet. There was barely any distance between you.

“Night..” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He laid down facing away from you, but in his mind he was holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. ...

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 10 of 12

Synopsis: romantic getaways and breaking the peace

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—

The soft creak of the ferry’s wooden deck echoed underfoot as it began its slow departure from the Outer Banks, the promise of a day full of freedom waiting on the other side. The boat was barely half full—most of the early passengers were already lost in their own worlds, gazing out at the water or chatting with their companions. For a moment, it felt like Y/N and Rafe had the whole world to themselves, just the two of them, standing on the edge of this small, quiet boat, staring at the horizon that stretched endlessly before them.

The sun had barely risen, casting a golden light across the water that shimmered and danced with the ferry’s wake. The breeze tugged at their hair, the saltwater scent familiar and clean. Y/N stood close to Rafe, her shoulder brushing his as she leaned in, breathing in the cool air. She had never felt so content. The worry that usually followed her around like a shadow—about what people thought of her, about the secrecy, about everything that was complicated—seemed a distant memory as they stood together in this little slice of normalcy.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she murmured, looking out at the water.

Rafe’s hand found hers, his fingers lacing through hers in a natural gesture that still felt like a small, private triumph, one they hadn’t yet shared with anyone else. He gave her a small, almost secret smile. “I told you it’d be better this way.”

Her lips curved into a teasing grin as she nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “You and your overconfidence. I didn’t expect you to be right about everything.”

“Always am,” Rafe replied with that familiar cocky grin. The sunlight caught his hair, giving him that golden glow she used to only see in her dreams—like a perfect image of a summer day, untouchable and carefree. He looked down at her, and for a moment, his expression softened. “You okay?”

Y/N met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his touch in her hand, the quietness of the moment settling over them. “Yeah, I am,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I feel... I don’t know. I feel like we’re finally getting it right. For once.”

Rafe squeezed her hand, then pulled her a little closer, as if keeping her near him could somehow make the world outside of their small bubble disappear. There were so many things unsaid between them, things they couldn’t say because of where they were from and who they were to each other, but in this moment, none of that mattered. Not here, on this boat, in the quiet of early morning when no one was looking and the world felt like it had paused just for them.

She let out a small breath, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under her cheek. It was simple—just the two of them, in the open air, surrounded by the vast ocean that stretched out endlessly, like an invitation to explore everything the world had to offer.

They didn’t speak again for a while, content to let the silence carry them. Rafe’s hand stayed firmly in hers, the connection between them feeling more solid with every passing second, like it was building a foundation they could keep returning to, a place where the complications of life could be left behind.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to believe that it could stay this way—that they could stay this way. No secrets, no shame, just them. And even though the reality of their situation lingered in the back of her mind, she didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not here.

As the ferry picked up speed, Rafe leaned down to kiss the top of her head, a simple gesture but one that made her heart race. It wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but there was something about this kiss—something about the fact that they were in public, surrounded by people, yet hidden in plain sight—that felt new. She tilted her head to look at him, eyes meeting his with an intensity that spoke volumes more than words could say.

“I like this,” she whispered, voice soft but filled with meaning. “I like being with you.”

Rafe didn’t hesitate to answer, his voice low and sincere. “Me too.”

—

The arcade was a burst of neon colors, the rhythmic clinks and beeps of machines filling the air with energy. The walls were plastered with posters of old-school video games, and the smell of popcorn and sugar lingered in the air, adding to the nostalgic charm of the place. It was a throwback to simpler times, a spot where the world outside—full of secrets and expectations—couldn’t follow them.

Y/N and Rafe stepped through the door, and the change in atmosphere was instant. The music grew louder, the flashing lights more intense. She felt a surge of excitement, her usual nerves melting away in the warm glow of arcade lights. This wasn’t a place where they had to hide; they could just be themselves, acting like any normal couple without worrying about anyone recognizing them, without looking over their shoulders.

Rafe grinned, his eyes scanning the room as he nudged her with his elbow. “So, what’s first? Claw machine? Air hockey?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking over at the claw machine, already skeptical. She had always thought they were a scam, but something about Rafe’s confidence made her curious. “You really think you can win me something?”

His grin widened, full of that familiar mischievous energy. “Just watch. I’ve got this.”

He walked over to the machine, slipping a coin in with ease and grabbing the controls. Y/N leaned against the side, crossing her arms, watching him as he manipulated the claw with surprising focus. “You sure about this?” she teased, her voice a little playful but mostly skeptical.

Rafe, however, was utterly serious as he maneuvered the claw over the prize—a plush unicorn with a glittery horn that was definitely not her first choice. “This is it,” he said, voice low and dramatic, like he was trying to summon some kind of mystical power. “This is the moment I show you how it's done.”

He pressed the button to lower the claw, his face filled with absolute focus. Y/N crossed her arms, looking skeptical. “Uh, sure. Just don’t embarrass yourself.”

But as Rafe’s hand tightened on the joystick, the claw moved in the wrong direction, then jerked to a stop, then spun around in a circle like it was on its own personal dance floor. He furrowed his brow, eyes locked on the claw, utterly convinced it would redeem itself.

“Alright, no big deal,” he muttered to himself, a bit of nervousness creeping into his voice. He adjusted his grip on the joystick, trying again. This time, the claw managed to hover just above the unicorn’s fluffy head. His fingers twitched, ready to press the button.

But instead of grabbing the toy, the claw dropped... and just barely grazed the unicorn’s ear before slipping harmlessly back into its starting position.

Y/N stifled a laugh, her lips twitching as Rafe looked at the claw machine, wide-eyed, like it had just personally betrayed him.

He didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was mentally cursing himself out. “Okay, okay, that was just a warm-up,” he said, voice defensive. “That was nothing. I’m gonna get it this time.”

She didn’t even try to hide her grin as she leaned against the machine, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Yeah, sure, you’ve totally got it. This next round’s yours, I can feel it.”

Rafe shot her a quick glance before focusing all his energy on the claw. He moved it back and forth, his eyes squinting as if he could will the claw to grab the prize. When the claw lowered, it was supposed to grab a plush unicorn sitting smugly in the center, but—

It missed entirely.

The claw wobbled and jerked, like it was trying to do a dance it had never practiced.

Y/N immediately burst out laughing, leaning against the machine to keep herself steady. “Oh my god, this is priceless. You’re a natural, Rafe.”

He grimaced, his face reddening slightly. “I was just warming up,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, clearly trying to salvage his dignity. “One more try.”

With another coin dropped into the slot, Rafe took aim once more. His hands shook slightly with exaggerated seriousness, and Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle.

“This is so embarrassing for you,” she teased, her grin growing wider.

“Shut up,” he said under his breath, moving the joystick. This time, he positioned the claw directly above the unicorn. He gave the button a confident press—

And the claw dropped… only to grab a random, sad-looking stuffed snake wedged in the corner.

“No, no, no!” Rafe said, his voice rising in frustration. The claw hung the snake awkwardly in midair, before it dropped it with a dramatic clunk to the bottom of the machine.

Y/N burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the arcade. “Okay, now I’m just concerned. Are you sure you’ve seen a claw machine before? This is bad.”

Rafe shot her a look, narrowing his eyes as he pushed more coins into the slot. “Shut up, I’ve got this. You just wait.”

After another five agonizing minutes of Rafe failing to even come close to winning, Y/N was nearly crying from laughing so hard. At this point, he was getting visibly frustrated, his face redder with each failed attempt. His concentration was so intense, it was almost adorable—almost.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s like the claw’s rigged. This is totally rigged.”

“Rafe, you’re just really bad at this,” Y/N teased, her voice full of affection and amusement. “I’m honestly starting to think the machine’s gonna make you pay for wasting its time.”

“Okay, one more try,” he said, this time with a hint of defiance. He slapped another coin into the machine with the confidence of a man who’d just spent the last ten minutes proving he had no idea what he was doing.

As he clutched the joystick once again, Y/N leaned in, a grin plastered on her face. “If you don’t win, I’m just gonna tell people I let you win at everything.”

“Not funny,” Rafe muttered, but the humor was there in his eyes. He finally got the claw to lower, and for a moment, it seemed like it was going to be the one—he was right there, the claw hovered just above the unicorn. His fingers twitched over the button.

The claw descended. And then… it grabbed a random, sad-looking plush cactus from the corner of the machine.

Rafe let out a long, defeated sigh. “I can’t win. I just… I can’t.”

Y/N’s laughter was almost uncontrollable now, tears forming in her eyes as she clutched her stomach. “You’re a disaster! I’ve never seen someone so bad at this.”

Rafe, though, was not defeated. He held the cactus up with a dramatic flourish. “Fine. You think this is a joke? I’m taking this cactus. It’s mine now.”

Y/N, still laughing, shook her head. “You’re delusional.”

He shrugged, the cactus dangling from his hand like some weird victory trophy. “It’s a sign of my character—I’m too cool for unicorns.”

But as they walked away from the machine, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of warmth in her chest. Rafe’s usual arrogance had given way to something more real, more human. He wasn’t perfect, and he knew it. And that made him even more endearing.

As they stopped near a wall of neon lights, Y/N reached up and gently tugged the cactus from his hand. “You’re so stubborn,” she said, her voice quieter now, a softness in it she hadn’t even realized was there. “But I like it. You know that?”

Rafe’s expression softened, just for a moment. He tilted his head, eyes meeting hers with an unexpected gentleness. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice surprisingly low.

Y/N nodded, her thumb tracing the rough fabric of the cactus’s stitches. “Yeah. You’re kind of perfect just the way you are.”

He stared at her for a second, his usual smug grin gone, replaced with something more vulnerable. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, a chuckle in his voice, “but... I think I like it, too.”

Y/N smiled, the laughter still dancing in her chest but now accompanied by something sweeter, something more real. “Maybe next time, try the claw machine again. Just… don’t get your hopes up too high.”

—-

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting the beach in that perfect golden hour glow that made everything feel like a dream. Rafe and Y/N wandered down toward the quieter stretch of sand, away from the noisy crowds. The cool breeze off the water tangled in their hair, and for the first time in a while, everything felt just right.

“Alright,” Rafe said, kicking off his sneakers and walking closer to the water. “This feels way better than some crowded arcade.”

Y/N nodded, slipping out of her sandals and wiggling her toes into the soft sand. “Way better. We’ve got the whole beach to ourselves.”

They walked in silence for a moment, letting the waves crash softly at their feet. The world around them felt distant, and for once, the pressure of their secret relationship didn’t feel as heavy. It was just them, in this tiny bubble of peace.

“So,” Y/N began, her voice playful again as she nudged Rafe with her elbow, “how’s the cactus doing?”

Rafe glanced down at the plush cactus, which he’d tucked under his arm like it was a real pet. “The cactus is a masterpiece. It’s going to be famous one day. You’ll see.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Is that what you're calling it now? A masterpiece?”

“Well, it’s a symbol of my success,” Rafe said dramatically, holding the cactus up like a trophy. “One day, I’ll sell it for millions. You’ll say, ‘I was there when Rafe Cameron won the cactus.’” He paused, looking down at the plush toy, then back at Y/N. “You’ll be proud.”

Y/N chuckled. “Sure, sure. I’ll be the proudest person in the world when that happens.”

They reached a small cluster of rocks where they could sit and face the ocean. The sound of the waves was soothing, and for a moment, they both sat quietly, just taking in the view. It wasn’t awkward, though; it felt comfortable, easy.

“You know,” Rafe began, after a long pause, “I never thought I’d enjoy a day like this.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, a little more thoughtful than usual. “It’s always been about... showing off, I guess. Or doing things for the wrong reasons. I’ve always had to be someone else, or whatever. But today—today was just… us.”

Y/N smiled softly, not sure what to say at first. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Rafe nodded, turning his gaze out over the ocean, the soft orange and pink of the setting sun painting the sky in vibrant streaks. “I think I’ve been spending too much time worrying about what people think. You know, trying to be this guy I’m not. But I don’t need to do that with you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered a little at his words, the way he looked at her so honestly. “You don’t need to pretend with me,” she said softly. “I don’t care about any of that.”

He turned his head to look at her, his expression more open now. “I know. I like that. You’re different. It���s... I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t have to worry about trying to impress you.”

She smiled, nudging him again. “You know, you don’t have to impress me. You already do.”

Rafe’s grin spread again, though this time it wasn’t the usual cocky, self-assured one. It was more genuine, softer. “I’m pretty sure I just impressed you with my cactus, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Y/N laughed. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. You’ve got some skills with that thing.” She paused, looking out at the ocean. “You know, I used to come out here a lot when things were tough. It helped me clear my head. It’s kind of nice, just sitting here.”

Rafe watched her for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod. “I get that. I used to come out here, too, just to get away from everything. Sometimes it feels like the only place where I don’t have to be anyone but myself.”

They both sat there for a few more moments, the waves rolling in and out as the sky darkened. The world felt quieter, like time was slowing down just for them.

Rafe finally spoke again, his voice softer, more vulnerable than it had been all day. “Thanks for today. It’s... it’s been a while since I’ve had a day like this. Just being with someone, not worrying about what’s next or what people think.”

Y/N’s smile softened, her heart full as she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m glad. You deserve days like this.”

Rafe met her eyes then, and for a second, everything else faded into the background. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

The air between them felt charged, and without thinking, Y/N reached out to take his hand in hers, the simple touch making her feel grounded in a way she hadn’t expected. Rafe squeezed her hand gently, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. The quiet between them felt just as perfect as everything else about this day.

“Alright,” Rafe said after a beat, breaking the silence but keeping that warmth in his voice. “We’ve had our deep moment. You ready to go find some real food? Because I’m pretty sure this whole ‘weird stuffed animal’ thing isn’t going to keep me full.”

Y/N grinned. “Absolutely. Let’s go get something that isn’t a cactus or a snake, alright?”

“Deal.” Rafe stood up, offering her a hand as he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go. But next time—I’m picking the food.”

“Deal,” she said, laughing again, as they walked back toward the town, hand in hand. 

—

The day was slowly winding down, the golden hue of the setting sun casting long shadows over the streets of town. Y/N and Rafe wandered aimlessly, enjoying the peaceful quiet that came with the evening hours. The bustling crowds had thinned out, leaving the streets calm and serene, the perfect setting for their leisurely stroll.

They passed by shops with colorful windows, the occasional chatter of people filling the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Rafe’s hand brushed against hers every now and then, a small but constant reminder of how close they’d become, even if they had to hide it from everyone else.

As they turned a corner, a small jewelry shop caught their attention. The display case outside was filled with delicate necklaces, rings, and bracelets, each piece glinting in the late afternoon light. There was something about the simplicity of the shop, with its vintage charm and understated elegance, that drew them in.

Y/N stopped in front of the window, her fingers lightly pressing against the glass as she studied the glittering bracelets. Some were simple, some were more elaborate, but they all held a kind of quiet beauty. She glanced up at Rafe, who had his hands tucked into his pockets, looking around the small street.

“Think we should go in?” she asked, a playful note in her voice.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the shop. “Are you asking me if I want to look at jewelry?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N shrugged, still eyeing the bracelets. “I mean, I think you might find something in there that suits you. Sparkles and all.”

Rafe laughed softly. “Yeah, well... sparkles aren’t exactly my thing. But sure, let’s see what’s in there.”

They entered the shop, the door chimes ringing lightly above them as they stepped inside. The air was filled with the soft scent of wood and polished metal. A gentle hum of calm music played in the background as they wandered among the displays, browsing through the array of jewels, none of which seemed to stand out as the piece.

After a few moments, Y/N picked up a bracelet with small, delicate charms that jingled lightly when touched. She held it up in front of Rafe, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Rafe leaned over, taking a look. “It’s... shiny,” he said, not exactly convinced. “Not really my style.”

Y/N smiled, placing it back on the counter. “Yeah, I thought so too. But it’s cute.”

They wandered for a few more minutes, picking up pieces, admiring them, but neither of them felt compelled to buy anything. The items were beautiful, sure, but the whole experience felt oddly distant—like they were pretending to be someone they weren’t.

Finally, Y/N turned to Rafe with a shrug. “I don’t think either of us is really in the mood to buy anything, huh?”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes lighting up as he gave her a playful nudge. “Nope. I don’t think I could pull off any of these anyway.”

“Not even the sparkly ones?” she teased, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Especially not the sparkly ones,” he said with mock seriousness. “But hey, it was fun just looking.”

They both laughed, and after a few more moments of lighthearted banter, they left the shop, hands still brushing occasionally as they walked back down the street, continuing their slow stroll toward the ferry.

As they approached the dock, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with soft shades of orange and pink. They boarded the ferry in silence, finding a quiet spot at the railing, where the cool breeze was starting to pick up. The water shimmered in the fading light, and the soft hum of the boat’s engine was a comforting backdrop to the peaceful moment.

Rafe leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the water as they pulled away from the shore. Y/N stood beside him, looking out at the horizon, a quiet smile on her face as the day slipped away. But even with the serenity of the moment, there was a small pang in her chest, a bittersweet feeling that the day was ending so soon.

As they stood there, the sound of the ferry’s engine humming softly in the background, Y/N glanced at Rafe out of the corner of her eye. She’d been thinking about it all day—the small thought that had lingered since they’d walked through that jewelry shop. Without saying anything, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small wrapped box. She turned to Rafe, holding it out to him with a quiet smile.

“Hey, I know we didn’t buy anything earlier, but...” she trailed off, handing him the box. “I got you something.”

Rafe blinked, clearly surprised. “You did?”

Y/N nodded, her smile widening. “I couldn’t resist. You might not love sparkles, but I thought this would look good on you.”

Rafe took the box, carefully unwrapping it with a mix of curiosity and amusement. When he opened it, he found a sleek, glittery bracelet, the kind that wasn’t too flashy, but had just enough shine to catch the light. He looked up at her, his eyes softening.

“You got me a bracelet?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Y/N laughed, shrugging. “It’s not a sparkly one, I promise. Just... something simple. I thought it’d suit you.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smile. “It’s perfect, actually.” He reached out, taking her hand and slipping the bracelet onto his wrist. “I love it.”

Before she could say anything more, Rafe surprised her by reaching into his own jacket pocket and pulling out a small velvet bag. “I guess I owe you one now,” he said, his grin widening.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she took the bag from him. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said, his voice softening a little. “Open it.”

Y/N carefully untied the string, revealing a delicate necklace with a tiny, intricate pendant. It was a crescent moon, silver with a small diamond at its center, catching the last of the sunlight. Her breath caught in her throat. It was beautiful—simple, but breathtaking.

“Rafe,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “It’s... it’s perfect.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he said quietly, watching her reaction. “Something to remember today by.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling. “I’ll never forget it. Thank you.”

They stood there for a moment, both wearing gifts from the other, feeling the quiet, shared happiness of the day slowly settling in. But as the ferry glided through the water, a quiet sadness started to creep in, an awareness that the day was coming to an end.

“You know,” Y/N said, her voice low, “this has been... one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

Rafe nodded, his expression soft. “Yeah. Me too.”

The sound of the waves crashing against the side of the ferry filled the silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They didn’t need to say anything else. The day had been perfect in its simplicity, just the two of them, stealing moments of normalcy in a world that often didn’t allow for it.

As the ferry neared the shore, they both felt the weight of the inevitable separation. They’d go back to stealing glances and secret rendezvous—at least for a little while. But for now, all they had was the evening, the ferry ride, and the gifts they’d given each other, which were more than just jewelry. They were reminders of a day they’d never forget.

—---

A few days later, the sun hung low over the beach, casting a warm, lazy glow as it started its descent. The Pogues were settled around a makeshift bonfire on the sand, the air thick with the scent of smoke and saltwater. The group had sprawled out in the usual way—Pope meticulously stacking sticks for later, JJ tossing pebbles at driftwood targets, and Kie stretched out on a blanket, flicking sand absently as she chatted with Y/N.

It was one of those rare, easy days when the crew could just unwind, the kind of day they all secretly loved. JJ had spent the past few minutes trying to balance a stick on his nose, to no success, though his persistence was making everyone laugh. When the stick inevitably fell to the sand, he groaned dramatically. “This is why I’ll never be a circus performer,” he announced, to a chorus of exaggerated gasps.

“I know. Total missed calling,” Y/N replied, grinning as she tossed a few pebbles toward him. Kie snorted, tossing one herself, but missed and hit Pope, who looked over with mock offense.

“Can we at least hit JJ?” Pope said, rolling his eyes before grabbing a handful of sand, aiming for JJ’s shoes instead.

Kie, lying on her side with her head resting on her arm, caught sight of the necklace Y/N was wearing. It caught the light, sparkling just enough to make Kie raise an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s new. Where’d you get that?”

Y/N instinctively touched it, a small, knowing smile creeping onto her face. She shrugged, trying to keep her response light. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

Kie’s eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced. “Really? It looks kinda... fancy for just something you picked up.”

Y/N laughed it off, brushing it aside. “What can I say? I have expensive taste.” She grinned to soften the response, hoping Kie would drop it.

Kie eyed her, but didn’t press. “Uh-huh,” she said, turning back to the group as JJ started running after Pope, both of them laughing.

Y/N’s fingers brushed the necklace again, feeling the quiet connection behind it. It was a secret, one she wasn’t ready to share, but in this moment, that was enough.

The easy laughter echoed over the water, filling the space with a calm none of them thought to question. It was the kind of afternoon that always made them feel like everything else could wait until tomorrow.

But that calm didn’t last.

A sharp ping broke through their laughter. John B had pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly checked the screen. At first, it seemed like nothing; he barely glanced at it before his thumb hovered over the side button to lock the screen again. But Y/N, perched next to him, didn’t miss the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed.

JJ, who was surprisingly perceptive when it came to sniffing out potential teasing material, caught the expression too and smirked, leaning in. “Yo, JB, who’s got you grinning like that?”

John B stiffened slightly, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “No one, just a…friend.”

Kie raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “A ‘friend’? John B, I think you forget all of your friends are sitting right here.”

Pope snorted, nudging JJ. “Yeah, and I’ve never seen you smile like that at one of my texts, man.”

Y/N felt the tension creep up, hoping they’d let it go, but JJ was already zeroed in, leaning forward with his usual mischievous glint. He held out a hand. “Alright, let’s see this ‘friend’ then.”

John B held up his hands defensively, scoffing. “Back off, alright? It’s nothing, just a text.”

JJ wasn’t one to back down easily. With a grin, he lunged over and snatched the phone out of John B’s hand before anyone could blink, ducking back with a triumphant laugh. John B groaned, already reaching out to grab it back, but JJ sidestepped, eyes locked on the screen.

The smile faded from JJ’s face as he read, replaced by an exaggerated, delighted grin. He held up the phone for everyone to see, pointing at the screen with a loud laugh. “‘Val’ says she misses you, babe!”

“Val?” Kie echoed, her brows knitting in confusion. “Who the hell is ‘Val’?”

Pope squinted, glancing over JJ’s shoulder to read the screen. “Dude, you’re getting ‘babe’ texts from ‘Val’ now?”

“Come on, guys,” John B muttered, snatching the phone again, but JJ held it out of reach, tilting his head curiously.

Y/N quickly tried to step in. “Guys, relax. It’s probably nothing, just some weird joke between friends.”

Kie raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “Yeah, right. ‘Val’ says babe like it’s no big deal?”

Y/N, trying to keep things light, leaned over to JJ with a laugh. “Maybe it’s a nickname for someone he’s trying to impress. Like, uh, ‘Valencia,’ or some other exotic name. Very mysterious.”

JJ blinked at her. “Yeah, sure. And I’m definitely not going to ask why ‘Val’ says ‘babe’ in all their texts.”

John B was looking at Y/N, his expression torn. He gave her a pleading look, and for a second, she knew he was ready to just admit everything. She met his gaze, giving a slight, emphatic shake of her head, silently telling him: Don’t you dare tell them.

For a moment, he hesitated, torn between protecting the secret and wanting to rip off the band-aid. But then Pope’s eyes went wide as he finally connected the dots.

“Wait… ‘Val’?” Pope said slowly, his eyes narrowing as the realization began to settle in. He glanced up at John B, his voice tinged with disbelief. “That’s not just a friend, is it?”

John B hesitated, his fingers absently running over the edge of his phone as he met Pope’s gaze. “No... I’m... seeing someone.” His voice was quiet, as if he were testing the waters, waiting for the storm to hit.

Y/N's stomach twisted. She couldn’t look away from John B in that moment, the air between them thick with something unspoken. She could feel the tension in her chest as she opened her mouth, her voice barely above a whisper. “John B, please...” Her eyes begged him to stop, to not say any more, to not let this reveal itself like this.

But he didn’t look at her. He just met her gaze for a split second before turning back to the group. There was something resolute in his eyes, an unspoken promise: It’s going to be okay.

He took a deep breath and finally let it slip out. “It’s Sarah Cameron.”

Kie’s face flushed with a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’re dating her?” she practically spat, rising to her feet in shock. “After everything she and her family have done to us?”

John B looked defensive, trying to keep his cool. “It’s not like that, Kie. It’s just—”

But Kie was already shaking her head, not having it. “It’s exactly like that, John B! After all the crap her family’s put us through, and now you’re just gonna ignore it because you like her?”

“I don’t care about her family, Kie,” John B snapped, clearly frustrated. “I care about her. I’m not gonna let their problems be mine.”

Y/N, feeling the tension rise, quickly stepped in, her voice trying to keep things light. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Kie. John B’s dating who he wants to date.”

JJ blinked, his frustration still simmering. “Look, I’m not thrilled about the whole ‘Kook’ thing, but as far as Kooks go, Sarah’s not that bad. It could’ve been worse... I mean, it could’ve been someone like Ruthie or Rafe.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the mention of Rafe. Sure, JJ could brush off Sarah, but Rafe? That was a whole different level—one that would never be as easy to accept. She could already feel the weight of the confrontation coming, and it made her sick to her core.

But Kie was seething now, her eyes burning. “Are you serious, JJ? She’s been tearing us down for years, and you’re just gonna excuse that because John B’s having some little romance? She’s part of the problem. Her family’s the problem. And you think dating her is just fine?”

John B held his ground, though his voice was quieter now, more strained. “I don’t care what her family’s done. It’s not about them, Kie. It’s just about Sarah.”

Kie looked between John B and Y/N, her voice rising in anger. “So, what, you’re just gonna ignore all the times she’s acted like we don’t exist? Like we’re just some lower class that’s not worth her time?”

Y/N, feeling the tension reaching its peak, cut her off, her voice sharp but calm. “Look, I don’t see what the big deal is, alright? John B is his own person. He can date whoever he wants.”

That just made Kie’s anger explode even further. “You don’t see the big deal? This isn’t just about who John B is dating, Y/N. This is about everything she represents! She’s a Kook! And now you’re all just fine with that?”

JJ looked back and forth between Kie and the others, his voice quieter now as he tried to defuse the situation. “Whoa, okay, okay, let’s just all chill. Kie, we get it. But maybe yelling about it isn’t gonna make it better. It’s John B’s choice. We can’t really do anything about it.”

But Kie wasn’t having it. “You think I’m just supposed to pretend it’s okay? After everything?”

The words hit hard, and the air grew thick with tension. Kie stormed off, her steps quick and angry as she muttered under her breath. Pope hesitated, glancing at John B and Y/N before following Kie, clearly torn.

JJ, shaking his head, threw his hands up. “Man, what a mess.” He paused, glancing at John B and Y/N. “You good?”

John B let out a heavy sigh, dropping onto a rock. “Yeah… just not what I expected.”

Y/N sat down beside him, her expression softening. “You did what you had to do.”

The sun dipped lower, and the day that had begun so relaxed and carefree felt a little heavier now, the silence between them thick as the fallout from Kie’s anger lingered in the air.

—-

A/n: i wrote chapter 11 before i finished this so sorry if it seems off 😭😭😭

Anyways, val and vlad made an appearance! Is it controversial if i say they are the best couple in the show

—

Next time: the midsummer ball

–

Taglist: ​​@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86 , @urbrunettebombshell, @fluffybunnyu

[wikiangela]

when I say I love your mind (I wanna steal your heart)

huge thank you to @evansboyfriend and @beefcakekinard for alllll the help, you're the best <3

prompt: Halloween - couples costumes rated: G tags: fluff, established relationship word count: 1.8k

[also on ao3]

“So maybe vampires? Classic.” Buck suggests, hoping they’ll finally settle on something. But one look at Tommy’s face tells him it’s another no. 

“I don’t know. It’s kinda basic.” His boyfriend says, and, okay, Buck can see that. 

“Yeah, okay.” Buck hums, taking a second to come up with something else, as he and Tommy walk through the park, taking the long way to Tommy’s car. It’s a late evening, the moon illuminating their path, Tommy’s hand warm in his. They’re just finishing up date night, and at the end of their dinner the subject of Halloween was brought up – which is what they’ve been on for the last fifteen minutes. “So I guess ghosts or zombies or, I don’t know, clowns or pirates are also a no?”

“Uh, they might be a maybe?” Tommy shrugs, but clearly he’s not very into it. 

“What about superheroes? Ooh, you could be Superman. You kinda look like him anyway.” He says, bringing their clasped hands to kiss Tommy’s knuckles. “My own personal hero.” He whispers, and Tommy laughs. Buck’s sure if it wasn’t dark, he’d see a faint blush in his cheeks.

“And what would that make you, Wonder Woman?” There’s a skeptical but amused tone in his voice. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs and Tommy doesn’t even need to say anything for Buck to know he’s not a fan. “Okay, so Batman and Robin.”

“Hm, that’s one to think about.” Tommy responds. Buck takes that as a win, but they could do something more fun.

“Luke and Leia.” He says just because maybe Star Wars will be something to agree on – though, on the other hand, that might just spiral into another disagreement they’ve had before about those movies in general, so maybe better to leave it alone. Buck loves Tommy so much, but his Star Wars opinions are… not good. He can look past that, though. No one can be perfect.

“They’re siblings. We’re not doing a sibling couples’ costume, Evan.” He says decisively, shaking his head. Bossy, for someone who can’t decide on a costume. Buck rolls his eyes, kinda fond but kinda annoyed.

“So Leia and Han Solo. Oh, or Han and Luke? To put a bit of a spin on it?”

“Uh-” Tommy makes a face – to his credit, he does try to hide it – and Buck sighs in frustration. He doesn’t even want to hear the reason for the no. He pauses, trying to think of something else, the silence always pleasant between them. Whether they talk for hours, or are silent together, in Tommy’s company every second is the most comfortable and enjoyable. Buck just feels like he can be fully himself, and lean into his silliest side. 

“We could be Venom and Eddie Brock.” He says, mostly joking, the image that popped into his head so ridiculous he laughs.

“Hm. And how would that work, exactly? One of us in regular clothes and the other in costume as Venom?”

“Yeah. You as Eddie, and I dressed in all black, on your back.” He gives Tommy a shit-eating grin when he glances at him disbelievingly. “You know, like when Venom pops out of Eddie’s back?”

“And, what, I’d carry you on my back the whole night?” He laughs, but Buck just nods. “Sweetheart, I’m strong, but I’m not that strong. Best I could do is a few minutes.” He sounds almost apologetic, and Buck needs to kiss him about it, so he presses a quick kiss to his lips, stopping them briefly.

“I know, I’m kidding.” He whispers, resuming walking. “Would be cool, though.”

“It would.” Tommy admits. Silence falls over them again, as the gears in Buck’s brain keep turning, going through every movie he can remember ever seeing, or any fun and cool couples they could realistically dress up as.

“Beauty and the Beast? I could do a yellow suit. And you can be my Beast.” Buck leans closer to Tommy, his chin brushing Tommy’s shoulder as they walk, almost at the car now. He whispers, “You already are.”

“That’s a leap from Venom.” A laugh escapes Tommy. “I don’t know. It’d be cute, but I thought you wanted scary.”

“True. We could make it scary.” He says, but then another idea pops into his head. “Oh, how about the Addams family? You know, to keep the spooky vibe.” Buck bumps his shoulder into Tommy’s.

“Well, I do love the Addams family.” Tommy nods. “Who exactly, though?”

“The best couple ever, of course. Morticia and Gomez.” He says, and watches Tommy’s face for his reaction. “And you hate it.” He sighs, and rolls his eyes, starting to get a tiny bit annoyed. It’s like the fiftieth costume he suggested, Tommy has to like something.

“No, I love it, really, but, you know, if we’re doing a couple, maybe it could be a gay couple instead?” Tommy suggests, pulling Buck a little closer to him. Well, that was the idea at first, before Buck spiraled where he is now, because someone kept shutting down his ideas. At least now he gets why some of those were a no from Tommy, because Buck thinks some were really fun.

“Yeah, sure. If we could agree on any.” He shoots Tommy a pointed look.

“Okay, any other ideas?” Tommy asks, a hint of fond amusement on his face. It’s not funny, though, they need to figure it out quickly, Halloween is right around the corner.

“Salt and pepper shakers.” He throws out. “Or ketchup and mustard.”

“Are you serious?” Tommy raises his eyebrow, giving him his signature ‘Evan’ look, version exasperated. Buck just shrugs, trying to hide a smile, the thought of his boyfriend having specific smiles and looks reserved for him making his heart swell.

“I’m running out of ideas, Tommy. Oh!” He exclaims, a new random idea popping into his head. “Tom and Jerry! Get it?” He grins, looks at his boyfriend expectantly, and sees a tired but very fond and amused smile. “Tom-my.” He drags out the first syllable, just to get his point across.

“Yeah, baby, I get it. You’re adorable, but no.” He says, and then chuckles when Buck pouts. 

“How about the emotions from Inside Out?” He grumbles, the movie popping into his head randomly – probably because he and Tommy watched it with Jee on their latest babysitting duty. They did a whole Pixar marathon. “You can be boredom.”

“Oh, really?” Tommy gives him one of his looks, and, damn, Buck almost melts under his gaze, even when he’s annoyed with him. He loves him so fucking much. “You calling me boring?” He tugs at Buck’s hand, stopping them and bringing him closer, so they’re face to face, his hands settling on Buck’s hips, Buck’s landing on his huge arms, now covered by a jacket. There’s an amused smirk on Tommy’s face. “I thought I was cool?”

“Nah, you’re not. You hide it well, but I know now that you’re just a huge dork. And very, very boring.” Buck teases, trying and failing to say it with a straight face, a smile breaking through. “And I love you anyway.”

“I love you, too, Evan.” Tommy says, his smile forming into that fond, loving ‘Evan’ smile that Buck can never resist kissing off. So he does. He kisses Tommy once, twice, the kisses soft and chaste, both smiling into each other’s lips. He’s about to go in for a third, intending on deepening it, but Tommy pulls away, face a bit more serious. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Buck frowns, not wanting or needing any apologies, genuinely wondering if he missed anything.

“For being such a pain about this whole costume thing.” Tommy explains, and Buck wants to laugh. Yeah, okay, he was a little annoyed, but it’s just a little teasing, bickering, about Halloween costumes of all things. He can take the most ridiculous things seriously, but this? Nothing to get overly upset about. He’s about to say all that, but then Tommy continues, “I don’t know, maybe Halloween is just not my thing. I’ve never really been too into it.” He shrugs, a flicker of something wistful crossing his face, but it’s gone too quickly to decipher. “But it matters to you, and I love you, and I want you to be happy. So, I’m done being a party pooper, let’s do a costume. Next idea, no complaints, I promise. Whatever you want.” He says so sincerely, but there’s a hint of a ‘I hope I’m not gonna regret this’ in his eyes. Buck grins, a random, brand new idea showing up.

“Woody and Buzz? From Toy Story.” he clarifies, as if that wasn’t obvious – and clearly it was, from the look he gets. “What? You said gay couple.”

“I don’t think they were. And I thought you wanted scary- but fine, okay.” Tommy sighs, that fond look back on his face. “I said whatever you want. You wanna be the cowboy or the astronaut?”

“Hm.” Buck takes a second to think – and realizes that, actually, there’s an even better, easier idea. “Or we could just be cowboys.” He shrugs, and then he can feel his eyes go wide as the full picture pops into place. 

“Zombie cowboys.” He says, at the same time as Tommy, though Tommy’s sounds more like a question.

“You know me so well.” Buck beams, leaning in for another kiss. “Let’s be scary cowboy zombies. See, was that so hard?”

“You’re the one with a thousand ideas for a second. I didn’t even say no to everything at first, you just went through so many it was hard to keep up. I’m pretty sure you said cowboy back at the restaurant, too, and I didn’t even get a chance to say anything.” Tommy points out, pulling away from Buck, grabbing his hand again and starting to walk, his truck already visible in the distance.

“Not my fault my brain works like that.” Buck says mock-defensively. 

“I know, honey, I love your wonderful brain.” Tommy smiles, lets go of Buck’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “And I love you, my silly zombie cowboy.”

“Halloween is gonna be so much fun.” Buck is smiling widely, excited like a kid for his first Christmas – or, his first Halloween, more like. It’s seemingly no big deal, but also it’s his first Halloween with Tommy, and he’s excited – he’s excited for all the firsts with Tommy. He can’t wait to do everything and anything with him. “Are you gonna come by the station?”

“Of course, if I can. Gotta see how scary you’re gonna make it.”

“Wanna bet I can scare you?” He asks, just as they near the car.

“In the haunted house for children?” Tommy raises his eyebrows. “Sure, you can try. What are we betting on?”

“I have a few ideas.” Buck grins wickedly, crowding Tommy against the car.

“Oh, really? Well, I’m all ears.” Tommy grins, his arms wrapping around Buck’s neck, pulling him closer. Buck smiles into Tommy’s lips, kissing him, quick but lingering.

“Well, why don’t we go home and I can show you what I have in mind?”

[read on ao3]

[valkierrie]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐀 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): Swearing.

Plot: Damon and Y/N get away to Iceland on a whim and share a private and intimate moment.

Word count: 1.8K

A/N: Hope the person who requested it likes it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The idea came out of nowhere—really.  

Damon came back from the studio, catching me in the middle of eating some left-over spaghetti from last night, watching some program on the television. 

“Hey,” Damon set his bag on the coffee table before settling beside me on the couch with a large plop and an exaggerated sigh. 

“Hi,” I laid a soft kiss on his cheek, tuning down the volume. “How was work?” 

“Work?” Damon rose a brow, slouching into the sofa with a teasing smirk. “You make it sound like a real job.” 

“It is, Blur’s no joke. Anyway, how was it?” 

“It was fine, the usual.” Damon chuckled. “Figured the day’s got better now that I’m with you.” 

“Charming bastard.” I giggled, hitting him softly against the chest. 

Another sigh escaped his lips—a softer one. “Been workin’ my arse off—it's worth it, but it’s exhaustin’.” 

Damon pulled me close, an arm wrapping around my shoulder. My plate rested on my lap as I leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry.” 

“Part of the job, innit?” Damon shrugged. “Can’t wait for you to hear the new track.” 

“I know it’ll be great, like always.” 

He was such a hard worker, really. Whenever there was a new album or track in the works, he was always ready to work it to perfection, which it always ends up being, even if he thought otherwise. 

Damon grinned, pressing a small and gentle kiss on my forehead. 

Damon turned his attention to the television, watching it with interest. “What’s on tonight?” 

“Nothing interesting, the commercials are more entertaining than whatever’s on. Like this.” I turned the volume of the telly. “It looks pretty cool, it’s in Iceland.” 

A masculine voice over spoke in the Icelandic language, luckily the caption was in English. 

“A getaway you won’t regret.”  It spoke. “An experience like no other with views truly out of this world.” 

Images flashed over the television. Images of mountains, the hotel, the steaming swimming area under the night light with Northern Nights. 

“What a beauty.” Damon whistled; his eyes were glued to the small screen. 

I nodded in agreeance.  

“Come to The Nature Lagoon for the experience of a lifetime.” With that final statement, the advert was reverted back to the program. 

It was a...strange idea, but it was one nonetheless, no?  

Wouldn’t it be nice to just get away for a bit, God knows my Job'd been hell this past week and I was certain the Albarn man could have used one too.  

My gaze turned towards Damon, giving him an innocent look. “Dames,” 

“Dames?” He rose a brow, crossing his arms. “You only call me ‘Dames’ when you want something.” 

“That’s not true.” I bated my eyelashes dramatically, slowly trailing a finger down his bicep. 

“Y/N, what do you want?” 

I frowned, rolling my eyes in annoyance. “Let’s go to Iceland.” 

“Are you serious?” He looked back at the TV, then back at me.  

I nodded with what he could only describe to be a cheeky smile. I felt like one of those kids who pestered their parents for toys on the television. “Would it be that crazy? You heard ‘em—it’ll be the ‘experience of a life time.’” 

That was the catapult that ended up with us on a plane to southern Iceland some two weeks later. It hadn’t taken much to convince Damon; Damon saying ‘no’ to me was about as rare as a blue moon. As much as he could pretend or say otherwise, I knew he needed this trip just as much as I did—if not more. 

Once we landed, I was caught off guard. For a place called ‘Iceland’, it was about as cold as England on a normal day.  

A cab driver Damon had managed to catch drove us to a small hotel towards Iceland’s countryside. I sat in the backseat with Damon, our hands were clasped together above our bags and belongings. His thumb stroked my knuckles gently, his eyes looking out of the window. My attention, however, had been taken by him. I found myself staring at him, unable to look away.  I didn’t know how he did it, it was almost effortless the way he managed to look so... 

His hair was tousled—as it so often was—and it gave way for his eyes, his lovely ocean eyes.  

God, he was beautiful.  

Damon, as if sensing my piercing gaze onto him, turned his head in my direction. “What?” 

“Nothing.”  

We arrived at the hotel shortly after. The building was modest and small, but that by no means took away from it’s elegance. It looked really fancy.  

Damon took the responsibility of booking us a room; while I stood, getting a nice look around of the interior. 

“Our room’s upstairs,” Damon announced, taking a few strides to approach me.  

I followed him up the stairs and into our room. The place was fancy, with a single bed. Damon flopped on the bed immediately, the jet-lag was in full effect.  

“You’re not going to unpack?” 

Damon shook his head. “No way. Too tired.” 

“Alright, you soft git. Get some sleep.” I climbed onto the bed, settling beside him and kissing his forehead. 

Unpacking could wait. 

— 

As soon as the sun came up, my eyes hadn’t even adjusted properly to the light before I was releasing myself from Damon’s grip around my waist and running to the restroom. 

“Someone’s eager.” Damon’s groggy voice called out. 

“You have no idea.” I retorted, slipping into the restroom.  

My shower was quick, no longer than five minutes. I wore a black bikini underneath a white dress with floral all over them. After shaking him for almost forever, I finally got Damon get up.  

“It’s six in the morning; don’t know why we’re goin’ so early.” Damon grumbled, grabbing his towel.  

“We’re going early so we aren’t crowded by hoards of people.” I pushed Damon towards the bathroom.  

Damon went with a white shirt and black swim trucks.  

“Oh, cute. We’re matching.” I grinned.  

“I guess we are.” Damon smiled, kissing the tip of my nose. 

We hailed another cab, that drove us to The Nature Lagoon. If the hotel was The Ritz, then this place was definitely Buckingham Palace—well, maybe not, but close enough.  

After checking in with the receptionist, Damon and I were headed to the locker rooms—separately, obviously.  The women’s locker room was far to brightly lit this early in the morning, took me a little while to get adjusted to the lights.  

I lifted the dress above my head, folding it neatly inside an empty locker, placing my trainers inside as well. Grabbing a towel before I left, Damon was already outside, shirtless. To be fair, he didn’t really need to do much in the locker room. It took every iota in me not to ogle. 

 There were five separate pools within the lagoon, each ranging in sizes. Some had a significant amount of people in its waters, while others were empty.  

Damon and I gravitated towards the one devoid of people. Unlike the other pools, the one we had chosen was opened to the landscape, giving way for an unintercepted view of the mountains that surrounded the countryside. It was breathtakingly lovely in a way that was indescribable.  

Steam rose from the water's surface curling above it, turning to soft, ghostly swirls at it’s interaction with the cold air.  

Damon stepped inside the water first, moving around slowly in the water until it reached his waist. He turned to me, holding out his hand to help me inside. “Come in, it’s nice.” 

I took his hand, my fingers slipping into his as I stepped in. The juxtaposing was felt immediately. The water’s heat engulfed my body, a mighty opposition to the cool air that was felt against my face. A sigh of satisfaction left my lips as I slowly sank into the water. 

Damon and I swam around. For a minute, we just floated, letting us really feel the water. Suddenly, without a warning, chucked a handful of water in my direction.  

“Hey!” I laughed, moving my wet hair away from my face.  

“What? It’s just a little bit of water.” 

“Just a bit of water, uh? Let’s how you like it.” I swished my hand through the water, splashing a small wave of water back towards him. 

Laughter was all around as Damon and I continued to splash each other like the mentally aged seven years olds we truly were. When the laughter died down, we floated in the warm water, our hands finding each, like they always did.  

“I’m glad we’re here. You and me.” 

“I feel the same way.” I smiled.  

I gazed up at the sky, hues of pink and orange decorated it, it was a moment I couldn’t put into words. 

Damon and I floated towards the edge of the pool, which was big enough to sit on. I lifted myself off of the water and sat on it, keeping my feet wet. Damon stayed inside, placing his arms on the ledge and resting his chin on it.  

“I could sing you a love song right now.” 

“Oh yeah? If you sing Girls and Boys, I’m shoving you under.” I smirked. 

Damon playfully narrowed his eyes at me. “I wasn’t going to sing Girls and Boys.” 

“Alright then, go ahead.” 

Damon began singing some ditzy and obscure ballad that I'd never heard of with a key that I was certain didn’t go with the song. 

A soft giggle escaped my lips. 

“Let’s play something.” 

I cocked my head to the side. 

“Hide and seek.” 

“Hide and seek?” I rose a brow, gesturing around. “How exactly are we supposed to do that?” 

“Right.” He blinked. “Tag?” 

“Okay,” I smirked, shoving his head into the water. “You’re it.” 

I jumped into the water, swimming as fast as I could. Damon lurked steadily behind me, trying to catch me. I swam towards a small waterfall formed by two semi-large rocks. When I reached the waterfall and tried to go through it, Damon caught me by the torso, pulling me up.  

“Gotcha!” 

I giggled as I attempted to wriggled free out of his grasp. “Let go.” 

“No way.” 

We stayed like that for a few seconds before Damon finally set me down. Our laughter quickly settled. My hands rested on his shoulders while his were on my waist, below the water. 

His gaze locked onto mine intensely, the world around us felt like nothingness and unimportance.  

Damon sighed—a soft sigh—running hand through his moppy, wet hair. “Feels like I’m always rushing.” He murmured; his thumb tracing circled on my upper pelvis. “Can’t remember the last time I slowed down, properly, like this. You make it so simple; you make everything simple.” 

My chest was tight, my heart was accelerating, warmth coursing all throughout my body, which the water had nothing to do with. “I’ll always keep making it easy for you.” 

“That’s why I love you.” He grinned, pulling my face close and kissing me.  

The kiss was slow and deliberate, our warm breaths mingling with the cold up above. It made me shiver—not from the cold, but because of him, he was killing me softly. 

[lethalchiralium]

Glass Houses | Miguel O’Hara x Wife!Reader

a/n: look, i’m not ignoring anything (i am) i just couldn’t get this out of my head haha

warnings: fluff and angst 🫶

summary: It’s finally time for Gabi’s quinceañera, something Miguel had finally allowed her to have.

MASTERLIST

Pastel pink dress with flowers in her hair, Gabi was having the best night of her young life.

Picture after picture, her pearly white smile was as bright as daylight. Her friends surrounded her, her uncles and aunts from both parents celebrated her quinceañera. It was the night she had been looking forward to, the night she had been begging you and her father for.

“Gabi,” He shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel was tight. “I told you we’ll think about it.”

“Papa, every girl I know gets a quince-“

“Gabi, lo digo en serio-“ Your hand settled on Miguel’s thigh gently, he took in a breath, growing frustrated with traffic and with himself. He spared a glance to you, your eyes on the road, but that still didn’t stop you from looking to him. “Mi vida, help me here.”

Your fingertips tapped his thigh, you turned to look over your shoulder at your darling daughter, still wiping off mud from that day’s practice. You glanced to Miguel as his hand slid down to settle on top of yours, fingers curled around your palm. Your husband has always trusted your judgement.

You squeezed his thigh before you responded, “Baby, Papa’s already doing so much for us. You need to give him time to get it worked out, it’s not a yes or no until he says so.”

The fourteen year old’s expression dropped, her body slumped into her seat. You frowned. “Why does he get to pick all of the sudden? You always set the rules, Mama-“

“Cuida tu tono con tu madre, Gabi.” His tone was calm, you could feel the bite of his words and watch how Gabi looked out the window in response. You deflated a little, you didn’t want to tell your perfect daughter that what little money you and Miguel had was running out. “Siempre escuchamos a mamá.” You squeezed Miguel’s thigh again, your eyes moved to gaze at the side profile you had memorized years ago.

“Mama, por favor,” You looked back to Gabi, your heart strings were tugged hard when you looked at her saddened expression.

A sigh escaped you before you turned forwards, the traffic now flowing much better. “Papa and I will talk about it.”

You watched your baby and her friends, all of them chatting away and laughing like hyenas. She was gorgeous, she looked truly happy; she spared a glance towards you, her smile so contagious that it made yours even wider. She was the spitting image of her father, just without the fangs. She waved a little, you waved back.

“We don’t have the money for it.” You whispered, arms tucked in between you and Miguel’s chest, fingertips gently tapping on his warm skin just below his collarbone. Your eyes could only watch your red fingernails as they drummed an unfamiliar melody into your husband’s skin.

He was watching you, it wasn’t hard for you to tell. His hand settled on your hip, the arm around your back gently stroked your shoulder blades with light fingertips.

“I’ll pick up more hours at Alchemax.”

“The mortgage is too much, Mig. I can get my job back-“

“No. Your back is still injured from the accident.” The car accident you had three months ago, where you were slammed into and your car thrown off the bridge by the momentum, only to be saved by Spider-Man. It was terrifying, he took you right down to the hospital without a word before he left you on a gurney; your husband appeared only moments later as the medical team took you inside, his breathing panicked as he took your hand, he was terrified. That look was one you could never get out of your head, even as you stared at his rising chest. “It will only be for a couple of months. It’s important for Gabi.”

“It’s important for Gabi.” You echoed, your nail caught on the small silver chain around his neck, the small locket glimmered in the low light.

Miguel is a generous man, and a man who truly adored his daughter.

Your daughter pranced over to your table, her smile much larger than you had even seen her make. You held out your hands, she instantly took them. “Mi niña, is it okay? Are you having fun?”

“It’s perfect, Mama.” Her arms were around your neck in an instant, a kiss from her on your head made your smile rival hers. She moved away, her pretty curls bouncing as her friends welcomed her back with huge smiles and infectious laughter.

You looked over to Miguel’s empty seat, heart sinking into your stomach. Being Spider-Man has made him lose so much important time with his family, but you understood why he put on the suit. You understood why when he told you that rainy night, you finally understood that you weren’t just a lucky survivor of small villain incident, he was always watching over you - even when he couldn’t be here for Gabi’s quinceañera.

You took a drink of your wine, hoping to put a damper on your growing sadness. You watched her Uncle Gabriel help take the beautiful white chair out to the middle of the dance floor, soft rose colored balloons tied to it and beautiful pink flowers wrapped around the back. Gabi was so excited, her gaze went back to you as she mouthed, “Love you.”

You blew her a kiss as the dance floor cleared, allowing her to sit down in the chair with her beautiful dress - her beautiful face bright with a smile. Your grip on your wine glass loosened as her Uncle Gabriel started the Changing of the Shoes ceremony - your own eyes felt pricks of pain as you fought back tears. You were only twenty feet away, your phone now in your hand was you took the video of the ceremony. She was laughing, happy - her flats being removed and replaced with the rose gold heels she had begged Miguel to buy months prior, but he had refused. And here they were, now placed on your daughter’s feet as her transition into becoming a young woman.

Tears of joy feel from your eyes as she stood, her smile still so large and the chair taken away. The song changed, your smile faltered.

“Gabi,” Miguel called. Your hand held his, his thumb gently raked over your index finger. He had spent many long nights, saving what money he could and taking odd jobs, all in between his duty as Spider-Man. His heart was warm, he had asked many favors with promises of repayment to set up his wonderful daughter’s quinceañera - more money than he wanted to pay, if at all, but he loved his child eternally. This was her one big wish for years, he had always said no since money was an issue. Even as a highly paid geneticist, his money was being drained by hospital bills, his mortgage, and his ailment of constantly needing venom to stay alive. But, giving her this meant she was growing up, and he was finally ready to help her out of her flats and into those high heels he knew were her favorite, then waltz around a big dance floor with his little girl who would be happier than ever.

She bounded down the staircase, hair a mess from practice as she tore off her headband, she smiled, “¿Qué pasa?” She was quick to sit on the floor in front of the couch, where you and Miguel were comfortably sitting. Your smile has always been gorgeous to Miguel, but in that moment, your smile infected him like a virus. You were so excited to see Gabi grow up, so excited to give her what she wanted.

Gabi was sobbing by the time Miguel had told her about the party, she hugged him so tight before kissing his cheek, then diving into you. You wrapped your arms around her with that beautiful smile on your face, moving your daughter back and forth with excitement.

That moment was a direct contrast to what he had confessed to you in private later that night, after he had finally found the courage to tell you his deepest secret. The look of horror on your face made Miguel’s stomach drop, the tears made him nauseous.

“You’re Spider-Man?”

He nodded for the second time, hand still holding yours. You didn’t remove it, your free hand came to cover your mouth.

“I wanted you to know. The ‘odd jobs’ I’ve been doing have been me being Spider-Man, people give me money to keep it up.” He whispered, terror in his heart as you just… stared.

“What will happen if I lose you?”

Miguel could only smile, his free hand came up to your cheek, resting upon it as he whispered, “Nunca me perderás, querida.”

Pastel pink dress with flowers in her hair, Gabi stood in the middle of the dance floor, ready for her last dance of the night before her 15 Candle Ceremony. It was her father’s idea to have the dance near the end of the ceremony, he was never one to want too much attention. The girl stood in the middle of the floor, eyes watching her father’s smile come closer and closer to her.

The crystal-like tears hit her beautiful dress, her manicured hands grasped onto the dark mahogany of the frame that displayed the photo of her smiling deceased father, Miguel O’Hara.

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[thollandneedy]

Princess Leia Situation- Peter Parker

A/n: I always wanted to write this one, since i watched Friends for the first time. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Sexual but not a smut; Cursing; Awkwardness

Summary: Y/n tries out a sexy costume for Valentines day, but it goes wrong

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

Peter's bedroom door was closed, as he needed privacy at that moment. Peter's mouth descended slowly between wet kisses and hickeys on his girlfriend Y/n's neck, while the girl guided his head down her sensitive body with her hand. The girl could feel the slight pressure between her legs, and her boyfriend's heart beating hard against her chest.

The sexual air was very palpable, but lately Y/n seemed to be preoccupied with routine sex. Apart from the fact that it had already been an argument with her boyfriend, the girl had been searching every day for ways to improve their sexual relationship, but no idea seemed to be enough.

They had tried positions like 69 or a tantric massage, but nothing seemed to please Peter very much. Since they had started having sex in their third month of dating, he had always tried to show off his skills or introduce different objects to stimulate his girlfriend better. The brunette wasn't hard in bed, but he liked to learn more about his tastes every day by trying different things on his own or with Y/n.  St. Valentine's Day was approaching, as was the anticipation of a fuck he would never forget.

"'Babe?" Peter caught the eye of his girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her way.

"Hmm?" Y/n focuses her eyes on Peter, who looks at her with a slight smile.

"What were you thinking?" The boy uses one of his fingers to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then kisses her. 

"Just about your Valentine's Day present. I want our night to be perfect."

"My darling." Peter looks at her lovingly. "Don't worry about it. It's already going to be perfect because it's you, so whatever you have planned, don't put so much pressure on yourself." 

"I know." The girl let all the air out of her chest as she replied, still staring at the image of her boyfriend with a white blouse clinging to his muscles. 

Fuck, he was so damn hot

"Sorry to break the mood. Can we go back?" The girl asks, receiving a silent affirmation in response.

Peter melted into Y/n's lips once again, bringing one of his hands up to the girl's exposed thighs and squeezing. His fingers were dangerously close to her crotch, causing a sly moan to be uttered. Y/n's body seemed to vibrate at her boyfriend's touch, making her raise her waist in search of the intimate touch she so desperately needed.

"I'll take care of you, love." The brunette slid his fingers between the girl's legs, letting all her worries go to waste when he found that perfect spot. 

(...)

Valentine's Day, and she still hadn't thought of what to do.

It seemed like everyone on earth had an idea for later, but she hadn't planned anything much, since Peter was going to cook for her in his apartment. Y/n woke up mentally yelling at herself, because as well as being in finals week, she hadn't liked the present she'd bought for her boyfriend. The white bag on her desk in front of the window was a reminder.

I shouldn't have bought a Grogu mug, Y/n thinks.

The silence in her house was customary, but she realized that she had woken up two hours before her lesson, giving her time to watch television and eat cereal like a child watching a cartoon. The girl in the pink sweater and slippers got out of bed, headed for the kitchen to prepare her cereal and watch Friends, as she did almost every day. Letting the streaming channel choose a random episode, she ran to the cutlery drawer to get a spoon, and finally settled down between pillows and a warm blanket. 

At the end of the episode, and the cereal, his brain exploded with the best idea he could have come up with. With an optimistic smile, Y/n kissed the television and laughed.

"Rachel Green, you're a genius. I love you" The girl in pajamas says to the screen, and runs to her room to change.

Later that day, in the apartment left by May so that Peter and Y/n could spend the night alone, the girl was tapping her feet frantically. The spaghetti bolognese seemed to go down her throat like water, not even giving her time to chew it properly. The lights were off, with only a few candles that smelled of pine cones. Peter, with a worried frown, asked:

"Are you in a hurry?" The brunette laughs to himself, and can hear Y/n's heart beating faster when she is asked.

Y/n brings her eyes up to his, staring at him with her mouth smeared with red sauce. The girl silently denies it, letting out a laugh covered by a napkin. Peter leans against the table, reaching out with the napkin to wipe the rest of the sauce off his girlfriend. The girl smiles, looking down at her black-heeled feet and long-sleeved burgundy tube dress. 

"You look beautiful today, you know that?" Parker compliments her.

The girl lets out a nervous laugh, looking down at her handbag on the kitchen worktop. 

Oh, fuck me

"You look wonderful as always." Y/n returned the compliment to her boyfriend, who was wearing a black polo shirt.

The student picked up the glass of white wine in front of them, raising it with the intention of making a toast. Coughing dryly, Y/n copied his boyfriend's action, smiling forcedly at him. Parker had never been much of a drinker, but he couldn't deny that wine always helped him calm down before sex, or even put him in the mood when he wasn't.

"Here's to us. May we spend every future Valentine's Day together from now on." The brunette said, causing a shy smile from his girlfriend, who still had her legs flapping under the table.

"To us" The girl clinked glasses, then drank the wine in one swallow.

"Shall we go and exchange gifts?" Peter stood up, picking up the two empty glasses and empty plates from the table covered in a gray cloth with gold details.

There was no escape

"Umm, of course! That's it, let's get to the presents. Of course" The girl straightens her babylissed locks and puts them to one side. 

Peter sits down in front of her at the table once again, but now with a small black and white bag with a red handle. As much as he would have liked to hide the brand of the bag, any woman could recognize that it was from Sephora. 

"I snooped through your Sephora bag, but you had more than 100 items curated and I still haven't been promoted to work in another area with Stark." Y/n laughs. "So, I preferred to give you this" Peter hands the bag to his girlfriend, watching her expectantly as she opens it.

"Peter! I really loved it." Y/n smiles as she finds a highlighter and a Fenty gloss. The girl stood up, walked over to her boyfriend and hugged him.

"Well, yours..." Y/n looked once more at the bag that held the mug. "It's not here right now." Y/n tries to explain.

"You can give it to me later, love. No problem." Peter nods.

"No! It's not that, I need you to wait in your room, so I can give you the present."

Peter makes a curious face, but not for a million years would he turn down a sexual offer as a Valentine's Day present.

"All right" The brunette heads for his room, closing the door and waiting for the gift his girlfriend has prepared. 

Shit! Fuck!" Y/n looked in her other bag for the mysterious gift she had rented from the costume store the afternoon after her last lesson. Stumbling over her own heels, the girl locked herself in the bathroom at the end of the corridor, cursing herself for coming up with such a miraculous idea at the last minute. 

Her hands tried to add a bun to her hair, securing it with bobby pins that fell to the floor because of the cramped room. 

"Shit!" Y/n curses as she loses the clips on the floor, then bangs her head against the sink.

The gold bikini seemed small in relation to her breasts, so she tried to make them fit without them slipping out of the factory. Her hands tried to make them fit, but every now and then, the knot on her back came undone, or one of her breasts slid to the side. When she looked in the mirror, her hair still didn't look the way it needed to. The side bun looked more like a bird's nest than a space bun. Groaning in discontent, Y/n grabbed her cell phone from the closed toilet and tried to do another type of hair that wouldn't cost her soul to make it perfect.

Peter, on the other hand, was undressed on his single bed, trying to find some position to receive his girlfriend. He didn't want to look like a sexy fireman on a calendar cover, but he didn't know where to put his hands, or even if he was going to cover himself with the rumpled sheet on his bed. 

A few minutes later, he was distracted by his cell phone, which was vibrating with Twitter notifications. As long as Y/n was taking, his lack of concentration meant that 15 minutes passed too quickly. Lying on his stomach with a pillow on his chest, the brunette commented on posts and was distracted by memes that appeared on his timeline every five minutes he slid further from the beginning.

"Peter?" Y/n's voice called his name, causing the boy to drop his cell phone and leave the shooting game he was playing on his cell phone.

"Yes?" The brunette lay down on the bed, covering most of his body as if he were already ready for bed, and switched off the main light in the room so that his lamp would be the only source of light in the room filled with posters and books.

Peter's bedroom door slowly opened, revealing his girlfriend's body in the most iconic Star Wars bikini. His girlfriend's breasts were perfectly embraced by the golden part of the bikini, while her waist was covered only by a long red skirt with golden details at the top. Her hair was in a messy braid, but nothing really said how Y/n looked. Even though many of the details were poorly finished, and especially the top was too small for her breasts, Peter looked at her as if she were too perfect for him. The boy cracked a slow smile, and his eyes seemed to pop out of his face with every step closer to his girlfriend.

"Y/n" Peter said, processing the surprise his girlfriend had given him. And without even realizing the movement of his body, one of his hands went to his mouth in an expression of surprise.

He hated it

Oh my God

He hated it or he thinks I'm pathetic

"I know! I know, it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry." The girl closes her eyes in frustration and shame. "I bought you a grogru mug, but I wanted to do something better because you always make everything for me so perfect, and I know how much you like Star Wars and I thought it would be cool to do the same as Rachel did in Friends and" The girl is cut off by a quick kiss.

"I don't have the hots for Princess Leia, but you look stunning." Peter holds both of the girl's hands, looking her up and down.

"Really?"

" Yes." Peter smiles. "And by the way, I broke my favorite mug last night. I really needed another one." The brunette smiles, which is answered by a loose laugh from his girlfriend.

"Aren't I an idiot?" The girl shrugged, looking at herself once again.

"Not at all." Peter replied, using his index finger to lift the chin of the girl, who watched him with innocent eyes. "Are you going to let me put my lightsaber on you now?"

"PETER!"

[abbacchiosbelt]

spoiled

Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader

Notes: Inspired by @cinnamonest's Kamisato Ayato/Teacher modern AU. Please read her lovely piece beforehand for further context!

This is a commissioned SEQUEL to will you, won't you.

CW: Age gap [ Ayato is 18, reader is 20+ ], not sfw, student/teacher with the student initiating, dubious consent, implied blackmail, PIV, manipulation, crying, overstimulation.

WC: 6.3k

Tag List: @magicalbats

It’s not without effort that you finally give up and lie down, your nerves shot and your body sore. You were worn from the night itself and the last few hours you’d spent trying to escape the room Ayato had locked you in, desperate to do something.

[ You’d stood before the door that Ayato had locked for several long minutes, vainly hoping that this whole night had just been some sort of twisted joke. He never came back, though. Not even when you banged your fists against the door and cried out for help, nor when you made a racket trying to break the door down. Tears had rolled down your face as you collapsed against the floor, unable to believe that this was really happening. Your life as you knew it was over. Even if you could escape, Ayato had made sure that you wouldn’t truly be free - not when he had the threat of a video that would ruin your career and reputation in his hands. ]

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the images of Ayato running through your mind, your mind refusing to focus on anything else. At this point, you had nothing left to give. All your tears had been shed, and your throat ached from how long you’d cried for help. Instead of fighting it any longer, you simply get up from bed and enter the en suite bathroom, numbly prepared to do your bedtime routine. Finding something normal about the situation was the only thing that brought you a small modicum of comfort, and going through your nightly routine was better than just lying down in turmoil.

Ayato had left everything you could possibly need. You noted, with shaking hands, that he’d even supplied you with the products you kept in your home - all brand new, of course. Some of your things had been replaced with luxury products, complete with a note from Ayato that read: ‘These are better for your health. Try them out, I know you’ll like them. - Ayato’

You crumple up the note in annoyance, picking up the luxury products and dumping them into the trash. Wasting such expensive items hurt, but since they were from Ayato, you refused to use them. To do so would be letting go of your remaining dignity - you’d just have to go without them.

You numbly wash your face and brush your teeth, though going through the motions of your normal routine doesn’t settle your mind as much as you’d hoped it would. You exit the bathroom and lay back down on the bed, resigning yourself to sleep. Perhaps you’d be able to think straighter with a night of rest in your system. You’d take anything that could help you get out of Ayato’s grasp.

Your sheer exhaustion beats out the racing of your mind, and eventually, you fall asleep.

/

Across the manor, Ayato is wide awake, unable to stop thinking about you. If only you’d settle in quicker - he longs for being able to treat you like his wife, and you to treat him as a husband. Other people would think he was moving too fast, but you’d already belonged to him in his mind for months. He wants to go to sleep with you curled around him. And more than anything, he wants your face to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning. Soon enough, that would be a reality. First, though, he’d have to make sure you understood your new position as his girlfriend, and as his eventual wife. It was something Ayato was looking forward to. You were already perfect in so many ways, but he would make sure he molded you into his definition of perfection. The challenge of taming someone as intelligent as you only added to Ayato’s excitement. 

All of Ayato’s careful planning would come to fruition, and there was nothing you could do to change things. That thought - that you were finally under Ayato’s thumb where you belonged, safe from the outside world - eventually lulls him to sleep. 

/

You awake with a start, the unfamiliar bed and room alarming to your senses. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, your heart leaping into your throat at the realization. 

It wasn’t all some bad dream you’d had after drinking too much at the graduation party. What had happened between you and Ayato was real, and so was the fact that you were still in his home. It was inappropriate - even unimaginable for a teacher like yourself to spend the night at a student’s place. You feel sick at the thought, and you clench your fists into the silk sheets.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Ayato wasn’t going to let you return to teaching. Even if you had found a way out of the house, Ayato had made sure that every route you might attempt to take was blocked. You curse internally - at yourself, for being so stupid, and Ayato for doing this to you.

Why…? You couldn’t be that special, yet Ayato looked at you like you hung the moon and stars themselves. His reverence wasn’t free from condensation, though, something you noted with particular annoyance. He treated you as if you were fragile - like you didn’t know the world's ways. It was infuriating. Ayato was only eighteen himself, but he acted as if he had an ancient soul.

Your thoughts trail off until a beam of sunlight peeks through the curtains. You didn’t want to dwell on your current situation any longer than you already had. You decide to leave bed and poke around the room with a fresh mind, your thoughts no longer clouded by a haze of alcohol and confusion.

Nothing much catches your eye except for the bookshelf, and you peruse the selection that was no doubt curated by Ayato. A few classics, a couple of trashy romance novels, a few books you’d assigned in class (filled with neatly placed post-its - some with your handwriting), and a few dated books on lady’s etiquette. You scoff, but you aren’t surprised. Putting those books there had no doubt made him chuckle, but they were also a genuine suggestion. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of finding one in your hands.

Instead, you pick out one of the classics and retreat to your bed to read. You weren’t sure when Ayato would come knocking, so you’d enjoy all the solitude you could get before then. 

/

From the moment he wakes up, Ayato is thinking about you. The night before had been more than he ever could have asked for. You’d walked so easily into the trap he’d set for you - a gilded cage that he’d planned every minute detail of. 

What’s more pressing at the moment, though, is his cock already stiff beneath the soft fabric of his pajamas. Where he had to resort to his fantasies of you in the past, he could now find reprieve just down the hall from you. 

Ayato doesn’t hurry to you, though. He wouldn’t have been able to pull off any of this plan if he didn’t have the impeccable self-control that he did. Instead, he begins his normal morning routine, willing his morning wood to go down until he can properly see you.

He’s purposeful with his routine, not rushing any step. It didn’t hurt to make you wait - the anticipation of when he would arrive would be good for you, he thought. 

When the time finally comes for him to see you again, he spares no time heading to your room. He’d been patient long enough.

Ayato knocks once before he enters your room, darting in so fast that you wouldn’t have a chance to even think about trying to push past him. He’s mildly surprised to see you’re simply sitting on the bed and reading - he’d expected a little more fight from you, but perhaps… Perhaps you’d come around to his ideas during the time he’d left you alone. 

“Good morning,” he calls, approaching the bed. He could faintly smell your usual body wash lingering in the air - one of the few things he hadn’t swapped out for a luxury product, finding himself quite fond of the scent. He’d have to ask you if you liked the new products later. He watches you for a moment, but you don’t put your book down. Oh, it looks like you hadn’t lost your stubborn streak after all. Ayato sits on the bed and watches as you grimace, your eyes peeking over the top of the book to shoot him a small glare.

Cute, but not becoming of someone who would be his future wife. 

Ayato tsks, leaning forward and plucking the book from your hands, ignoring your protests. In a brief moment of kindness, he folds the ear of the page you were on so you can find your place later. You cringe at the gesture, though, years of telling students not to destroy your books flooding your mind. If he notices, he ignores it. 

“How was your night?” Ayato smiles and glosses over the situation like it was any other day. If he acted like things were normal, he thought, you’d eventually be forced to also.

Silence fills the air. You purse your lips, petulant, and keep your gaze trained on the window. (Locked, of course.) Ayato sighs and scoots closer to you on the bed so that he’s pressed against you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders before you can squirm away, his heart suddenly beating fast. Even a simple touch sent his heart racing when it came to you - he did well to keep his composure, lest you exploit it. Ayato needed to be in control, after all. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“How do you think it was?” Your reply is curt. The sooner you replied, the sooner he’d leave. You should have known that giving Ayato an in by acknowledging him was a mistake.

“I see you enjoyed your new beauty products, and that you enjoyed your choice of literature.” Ayato pats the book that he’d taken from you. Of course you liked it… You were perfect for him.

“I threw all that new stuff away.” At the very least, you could take pleasure in denying his gifts.

“That’s a shame,” Ayato replies, betraying no emotion. “When you’re better behaved, I can take you with me to pick some new things out.” He gets a thrill out of the annoyed expression on your face. Clearly, you’d expected him to be upset, but the products were mere pocket change to him. Eventually, you’d accept his gifts and come to understand how much he understood you. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the book, at least.”

The book… Of course. You had been enjoying it, until Ayato’s remark. The way he knew every facet of your personality made your skin crawl. “It’s fine.”

Ayato laughs at your cold response. If you wanted to get under his skin, you’d have to try much harder - he’d memorized your reactions and tells ages ago. It was easy for him to read you. As much as he was enjoying the one-sided banter, there were other pressing matters at hand.

Namely, how hard his cock was just from sitting next to you for a few minutes. It’d be shameful if he didn’t consider it a testament to how much he loved you. Your familiar scent and the warm skin that was pressed against his had sent his body into overdrive, almost as if it was making up for lost time. So much of his time had been taken up by school and responsibilities, but finally getting to touch you last night had awoken something new in him. Of course, he’d been taking care of himself to the thought of you for months, but getting to experience your body was a completely different game. It was addicting.

If he was a lesser man with no self-control, he would have fucked you well into the night. He hadn’t planned on pushing you to fuck him again just yet, but perhaps he could indulge in some other things. There was so much he wanted to try, after all. 

Ayato slides the hand that was wrapped around your shoulder to gently press against your neck, letting his long fingers ghost against your pulse point. He hears you inhale suddenly, and the noise goes straight to his cock. (He wanted to devour you. He wanted to lock you up and fuck you senseless. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted… But it’s not what you needed, nor what you deserved. Ayato loved you. Such primal needs could be sated later when you eagerly responded to him - he had imagined so many times that you’d come to crave him as he craved you.)

“Ayato,” you warn, your voice low. “What are you doing?” You push Ayato’s hand away, and he lets you. You’d learn in time not to reject him, but Ayato had to walk a delicate line until then. He sighs, nonchalant, and lets his hand skirt down your arm instead. You grumble but don’t bother pushing him away. 

“Do you really have to ask?” Ayato’s hand continues its path down your arm until he reaches the place where your hands are firmly pressed against your thighs. He sighs out your name. “You don’t have to be so worried about things like this. You are my girlfriend, after all.”

“Girlfriend?” You blurt, whipping your head to the side to stare at him. Ayato’s lips lift into that infuriating, smug smile that all his fellow students had giggled and blushed over. All it did to you was make your stomach curl. “That’s—” You’re startled into silence when Ayato slips his hand under the hem of your shirt, his fingers splaying across the bare skin.

The tips of his fingers are cold, and the sensation sends a chill up your spine. Your mouth hangs open dumbly as he explores the soft skin of your stomach. A strangled yelp leaves your throat when he runs his fingers over a ticklish spot. 

“D-don’t,” you huff, the drift of his fingers over the ticklish spot again making you stumble on your words. “I don’t think we should do this.” He laughs, amused by your reaction. Anything he could get from you right now was fine - all he wanted was your complete attention, positive or negative.

“If you don’t like me touching you here, why do you react like this?” Ayato had mistaken the noise he’d drawn from you for arousal, his voice dripping with condescension as if the problem here is that you just don’t understand your own body and not that you’re being held against your will.

Before you can stop him, Ayato’s hand drags upward to your chest and he cups your breast in his hand. He plays with the weight of your breast, jiggling it. It reminds you of fooling around when you were younger, the unintentional awkwardness and non-pleasure of it making you grimace. Ayato doesn’t seem to notice, though. He sighs as he fondles you, entranced by the soft flesh of your tit that he’d been kneading. 

You could almost drift away for a moment, pretend you were still asleep—

And then Ayato tweaks your nipple, hard, and your mouth falls open, a pained whimper rising to the surface. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, his gaze remaining on your shocked expression as he licked deeper into your mouth. It was all-consuming and violating – not like a kiss at all.

Whatever trance you had fallen under was quickly broken. Ayato is sloppy as he kisses you, his hand sliding down your stomach to fumble with the hem of your pants. It’d be endearing if it was anyone else - and yet some part of you doesn’t have the will to try and stop him. He’d already proven he’d do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

You don’t jerk away when his hand finally slips into your underwear, long middle finger immediately searching out your clit. It’s clear he’s struggling with kissing you and trying to finger you at the same time. You break apart from the kiss and he whines, chasing after your lips.

“Ayato…” You struggle to find your words, not daring to lift your gaze to his. You should stop him, you really should. You don’t, though. You were still so tired from last night. If you only gave in this one time, you’d have more time to think. You breathe out hard through your nose and finally speak. “One thing at a time.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding sheepish. “I’ll do better.” It’s an admission you hadn’t expected from him, but it was apparent that he was vulnerable in this state when it came down to things. If you were a worse person - if you were like him - you would have taken advantage of it. Turned the situation around on itself. But you weren’t like him, so instead, you remain silent when he dips his middle finger through your folds, letting the wetness that had accumulated gather on his digit. 

Ayato hums when he feels proof of your arousal on his finger. He knew that all you ever needed was a reminder of how good things would be for you if you let him do as he saw fit. He would be a proper husband for you in all ways, and his duty of pleasuring you was one he wanted to emphasize despite his inexperience.

Ayato is aware that he shouldn’t rush things, but his eagerness to consume you whole pushes him to dip his finger inside of your cunt. His finger slips in easily, aided by the lubrication your body had produced despite your will. 

“See?” Ayato arches the finger inside of you, stroking against your warm walls. “Your body doesn’t lie.” You shudder, half-pleasure half-discomfort as he adds another finger. He arches his fingers up again, searching. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure of helping guide him toward the spot inside of you that always sent your body reeling. You ignore his words, the arrogance coupled with his inexperience guiding your lips into a petulant pout. You just had to endure this a little bit longer. 

It only takes a second for Ayato to notice your new expression.

Ayato didn’t want to spoil you, as much as he loved that fiery side of you. Sometimes you needed your flames dampened, and who better than him who did it out of love? He pulls his fingers from inside you and instead starts to focus on your clit, pulling a surprised moan from your throat. His technique is sloppy, but it’s not so bad that you couldn’t come from it.

His silence as he touches you makes you wary - so far, he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. It’s barely a thought, though, not when your arousal is about to reach a fever pitch.

And then, without warning, Ayato pulls his fingers away from your clit— You whimper in frustration as your arousal fades back to a low burn. You twist your head up to look at him for an explanation and only find a serene look on his face. It immediately sends hackles up your spine, and you reflexively pull away from him. Ayato lets you this time. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Ayato says, accusatory. Your eyebrows knit in annoyance. He tilts his head, looking at you like he expected something. “Your attitude,” he starts. “You can’t enjoy what I’m giving you and act like a brat.”

“A brat?” You sputter, insulted more by his choice of words than the sentiment itself. You had adjusted rapidly to Ayato’s malaligned attitude about his feelings for you, but this talk like you were just misbehaving was too much. You were a grown adult, for gods’ sake. “I didn’t ask you for any of this.” 

“Didn’t you, though?” Ayato leans in, taking up your space. “All those times when you let me talk to you at lunch. You were so kind. And all those times you spoke to me after the school day even though I wasn’t in your class.” Before you can give him a rebuttal, he continues, almost manic. “I knew you were perfect the second I met you. Last night was just a precautionary measure. We were always going to be together.”

You’re unable to reply at his unashamed admission. While you reel from his words, Ayato stands from the bed. He brings the fingers that were inside of you to his mouth and sighs before he presses them to his mouth, sucking your juices from them. You watch in muted disgust.

“I’m going to let you rest for a bit. I’ll bring you brunch shortly. I think you need some more time to think about what I’m doing for you.” Ayato smiles as he produces the key to your room from his pajama shirt’s pocket. “You’re smart enough to know this, but you’ll be staying in this room until your behavior improves.”

When you don’t respond, Ayato shrugs. “It’s your choice. I’ll see you soon.”

/

Ayato, true to his word, returns with brunch around an hour later. He leaves you to your devices after, dutifully returning every meal time to bring you food but not lingering. It remains like this for two days, with you stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him and Ayato seemingly unbothered. 

You’d used your time to think of something, anything, to put a hold on Ayato’s plans. On the third day, you finally speak to him again.

“Ayato? Can we talk?”

He turns immediately, his facade of nonchalance betrayed by how eager he looked. “Of course.” He hurries to sit across from you on a matching lounge chair to the chaise you’d been sitting on. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

You ignore him, and press on. “I have a proposal. I know you want to take care of me, but I think I should keep teaching, so I came up with a compromise.” You expect him to protest, but he just stares at you with a placid smile on your face. Unnerved, you press on. “What if I taught private lessons online?” You didn’t like saying the next part, but you had to try to placate him. “I would stay at home, of course. And you could vet any potential students. I’ve been working for years, Ayato. It’d feel wrong to just quit.”

“I see.” Ayato says, terse. You can already tell he doesn’t like the idea.

A pregnant pause hangs in the air.

“No.” Ayato stands, and you scramble up after him. You grab his arm, surprised by your own actions but unable to control your panic. “My plans- our plans, are final.”

“Please, there has to be something. We can’t do this, any of this…” You’re almost breathless as you speak.

“Let’s sit down.” Ayato leads you to the bed, but you hardly realize it. You let him maneuver you onto the bed. Your mind races for another excuse to try and bring up, but there’s nothing. Ayato strokes your hand. “Is that it?”

His tacit tone, as if you had just been throwing a tantrum, ignites whatever fuel you have left to argue with him.

“D-damn it,” You start, fumbling with your words. Ayato gives you a patronizing look that makes you want to rip his head off. You take a deep breath and try again. “You haven’t thought of all the repercussions. What will your family say? What will Ayaka say?” If anything could garner a shred of sympathy from Ayato, it had to be Ayaka. Perhaps with enough mention of his younger sibling, his plans would start to crack.

“What will Ayaka think?” Ayato echoes, raising his eyebrow. “She’ll think it’s wonderful that her older brother has found someone so responsible and mature.” He catches your eyes, and his gaze turns serious. “Ayaka is very innocent, you know. You wouldn’t want to hurt her by telling her the truth, would you? Even if you gained her sympathy… Ayaka is loyal to her family first.” Ayato’s tone is one of finality - any argument you had would be useless against him. It was like he lived inside your head, plucking out every seed of hope one by one and crushing them. 

You can’t give up, though. “Your family, then. They won’t accept this. They have to realize how wrong this is. They… they have to!” Your voice breaks. Even if they did find it wrong, Ayato wouldn’t take the blame - you would. Ayato watches as the gears in your head turn, the faux sympathetic look back on his face.

“You already know my answer to that, dear. Did you think I was unprepared for our relationship? I’ve been planning every detail of how things would go for months. You know the Kamisato family’s reputation. I’m no exception to it.” Ayato takes your hand and soothes his thumb across the top.

You’re too numb to stop him.

You knew the family’s reputation well. The Kamisato family was meticulous. They were perfectionists to a T. Their legacy was long-standing, in both the private academy and the city you lived in. And most of all, they were known to be ruthless to anyone who crossed their family. Their ruthlessness was hidden under business deals gone bad, companies suddenly failing, another family’s secrets exposed - it was covert and deadly. To be in their line of fire was to have your life effectively over. You couldn’t do it. You were one person.

In a last-ditch effort, you pitch another idea. “Then… Then…” You stumble over your words. Ayato tips his head to the side - condescending smile and lidded eyes, a look that you’d quickly become used to - urging you to go on. Your throat suddenly feels very dry, but you know that if you ask for water, Ayato will steer the subject in a completely different direction. You warily raise your gaze to meet his. “If you’re so sure your family will accept this, then… What if we wait a little longer to move things forward?”

Ayato hums, thoughtful. He’s not really considering your offer, but he might as well pretend to be so he can see where you’re at. “And how long would that be?”

“I was thinking a year or so,” you begin. “You would be established at college by then, and I—”

Ayato’s finger comes to rest on your lips, interrupting you. He shakes his head before he pulls away, chuckling to himself at the expression on your face. “I’ll save you the explanation. I’m sure it’s a nice plan, but it won’t work.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!” You protest. Ayato ignores your outburst and wraps his arms around your waist, suddenly pulling you into his lap. Try as you might, you can’t squirm free from his tight grip. Your stomach tightens, anxiety pulling at it. He’s too close, and it’s too much - you feel trapped. 

“Are you done now?” Ayato’s question sends anger running through your veins. How could someone turn from a respectful student to a condescending young man in such a short amount of time? He had never treated you with anything less than respect when you were his teacher, but now, it was like that part of your relationship had never existed. Ayato must sense your displeasure, as he loosens his grip and sighs. “You know that I appreciate your intelligence. Picking you as my wife wasn’t something I did without my due diligence.”

The thought that he’d been planning this for even longer than you’d imagined makes bile rise in your throat. You’re so distracted by the thought that you forgo trying to escape his grip and instead curl limply into him. Ayato is nearly giddy that you’re leaning into him, completely ignoring the stricken look on your face.

Another argument pops into your mind as you ruminate on the time it had taken for Ayato to plan things out. Time divided the two of you - Ayato young, and you a well-established adult. If you perhaps talked up Ayato’s youth and the rich life he had ahead of him, it might put a seed of doubt in his mind that would grow over time. You’d have to talk down about yourself like you were used goods, but if it worked, it would be worth it. It wasn’t an immediate solution, but it was something.

“I’m not done, actually.” Ayato tsks but doesn’t stop you. You swallow and peer up at him from his lap, preparing to disparage yourself simply to argue against him. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone your own age? Someone who will… Who will look good alongside you? Who can grow with you at the same pace?”

Ayato’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, genuine surprise painted on his face. He regains his composure a moment later, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really think I’m that type of man?” He turns your own words back against you - like your self-depreciation had been an affront to him. He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “Your beauty is timeless. I would never tire of you.” Ayato sounds soft, for a moment, but then he twists his lips into a cruel smile. “But if I did grow tired, I wouldn’t have trouble finding fun elsewhere. Many husbands do, you know.”

His cruelty was thrown so easily in between his kindness. You merely stare at him, mouth open. Ayato laughs and leans down to press his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture sickens you, but you know pulling away will only make him do something more invasive.

“Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m not that kind of man.”

Ayato had cornered you on the bed during the conversation, and you’re hit with the realization that you’re in no position to get out from under him. He’d broken down every wall you had.

“I’ll give you everything you could ever need or want. I’d be happy to give you another reminder.” Ayato leans down and captures your lips in a messy kiss, pressing forward until your reluctance gave way to kissing him back. He finally pulls up for air when you’re nearly out of breath, his lips slick with saliva. “Your body hasn’t lied to me yet.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you hated it. Deep down, in a place you didn’t want to admit existed, his attention felt good. It disgusted you, but your ability to deny it was betrayed by your body again and again. You could say it was a natural reaction as much as you wanted, but Ayato could see right through you.

You don’t stop him when he begins to undress you, hastily pulling your pants down and simply shoving your shirt up and your bra down until your tits were pushing over the top. He tweaks your nipples until they’re standing taut, playing with them with far more intent than he had earlier. His hands eventually slide down your stomach, and then they stop.

You glance at him. He smiles, the twinkle in his eye making you feel uneasy. “Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t have you getting spoiled? Go on, tell me what you want. I can’t just give it to you.”

You couldn’t. Doing so would be admitting that you were truly out of options. You turn your head, and Ayato tuts. His fingers ghost over your skin until he reaches your clit, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin against it. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“I can wait.” Ayato smiles, and remains still. His touch is so close yet so far, and the sensation of needing to be touched is starting to flood your veins.

How had you fallen so far in just a few days that you were seriously considering begging your captor to touch you? Had you really ever been opposed to his idea? No, of course you had - but your mind was already getting muddled, the brief isolation and emotional turmoil proving all too much.

Touching was simple. It felt good.

You give in. “Fine,” you mumble. “Touch me…”

Ayato tilts his head. You grit your teeth. “Please.”

“Good girl.” 

Ayato’s words send a shock of arousal you weren’t expecting at the same moment his fingers begin their minstrations against your clit, and you keen forward, hissing. Everything from the littlest touch had been heightened by your increased emotional state, and this area of your body fared no differently.

Ayato’s fingers work diligently until your clit is swollen and needy, yet he seemingly slowed down every time you came close to orgasm. You let out a frustrated whine at every near peak that fades back into building arousal, the previous momentum completely lost. How many times had it been now…? You weren’t sure.

“You know what to ask.” Ayato’s fingers continue rubbing circles into your puffy clit, the bud aching with need. It’s not enough to get you off, though, and he knows it. The disappointment of the denied orgasm earlier that week  pushes itself to the forefront of your mind, though, your body eager to get the pleasure it was denied. It was all too much and not enough at once. Ayato slows down his ministrations and forces your head up with his free hand. His fingers squish your cheeks together. “Well?”

You whine through your squished cheeks, and Ayato’s touch relents enough so that you can talk. “P-please,” you mumble. “I wanna come.” It felt wrong - but you didn’t think you could take the denial of pleasure again, your body nearly begging for it. If you had told him to stop, he undoubtedly would have prevented you from finishing yourself off. Ayato hums at your response, and his fingers begin to rub tight circles around your clit with purpose. You refused to vocalize it, but you could tell he was already getting better at touching you.

It only takes a few more strokes until you’re coming, your lower half jerking off the bed in time with the waves of your orgasm. Ayato doesn’t let up his fingers and soon it becomes near unbearable. You squirm, and drag your hips away. His fingers finally draw away from your puffy clit and he groans out your name, enthralled by the sight of you.

“Can’t wait to get inside of you,” he huffs, hurriedly undoing the belt on his clothes. His cock is out before you even realize it, pretty pink head leaking precome from the tip. Ayato moves over you and presses the head of his cock into your clit, watching eagerly as the little bud twitches from overstimulation.

“Nooo,” you whine, “it’s too much still—” 

Ayato’s cock jumps in place, your words going straight to his member. Seeing you so vulnerable made him feel like he could come any moment. Before he can embarrass himself again by coming too soon, he pulls back, letting himself cool off for a moment. 

“I think you can take a little more.” Ayato’s words are followed by his fingers on your clit once more, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive flesh. You wiggle at the sensation, his touch slowly becoming more pleasant as it breaks through the dull ache of being touched again so soon. 

You shouldn’t have given in to him so easily. Not again - but you can scarcely think of that when Ayato is bringing you to your peak and then back again a second time, and then a third. 

You’re teary by now, the pleasure-pain reaching a level you hadn’t experienced in a long while. You expect him to attempt a fourth orgasm, but instead feel him climb over you to line himself up with your entrance. 

“I can’t, not again-” You warble, and Ayato leans down to capture your protests with a kiss. He uses the moment to press himself inside of you, finding no resistance as he pushes himself to the hilt. It felt just as heavenly as it did the first time. 

Ayato’s pace stutters at first, struggling to coordinate the thrust of his hips and the rhythm of his fingers on your clit. He groans into your mouth while he fucks you, only pulling away to bury his head into your neck. The momentary stop and start of his fingers on your too-sensitive clit make you jerk under him, mind too far gone to do anything else.

Though you try to fight it, a fourth orgasm rips itself from your center. You clench down on Ayato and nearly shriek as it ripples through your body - Ayato follows you a few shaky pumps later, your name falling from his lips over and over as he comes inside of you.

It’s suddenly much too bright and much too hot and you thrash underneath Ayato, desperate to get out from underneath him. For once, he acquiesces to you and lets you roll to your own side of the bed. 

You stare at the ceiling, suddenly all too aware of the sweat sticking to your skin. Your personal space is invaded when he drags your head onto his chest and wraps his arms around your shoulders. 

You supposed it was his form of a compromise.  

/

A month later, you’re sat at Ayato’s office desk with a thick piece of cardstock in front of you with the Kamisato family crest embossed on the top. The new clothes you were in still feel too expensive and stiff against the leather chair you were sitting in, and the luxury perfume Ayato had insisted you wear was suffocating. The sizeable ring on your finger feels dreadfully heavy as you stare at Ayato before looking down.

All these things to distract you from the impending message.

‘The Kamisato family is proud to announce the engagement of eldest son, Kamisato Ayato &…’

You don’t have to read further to guess that your name follows his.

“What do you think, dear? Do you like this color?”

A month wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough for you to know what Ayato wanted you to say and what you needed to say for your sanity.

“I love it.”

[charlesslut16]

-tears destoyed christmas-

summary : due to the neglect you break up with daniel...

PAIRINGS : daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

WARNINGS : angst?

note : I hope that you will love this!

masterlist ; DECEMBER MASTERLIST 24’ 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The soft glow of Christmas lights flickered gently through the living room window, casting a warm, almost magical light on the room. The scent of freshly baked cookies and pine from the tree filled the air, the perfect image of a cozy, festive evening.

But, inside, the world felt entirely different to you. It had been building for months, the quiet neglect, the distance between you and Daniel that you didn’t want to face.

You had ignored the signs at first, thought it was just a phase, a rough patch that would pass. But as the days dragged on, the distance grew, and you felt like a stranger in your own relationship.

Daniel had been distant for months now—busy with his racing commitments, with his friends, with everything but you. You had convinced yourself that you were being dramatic, that his schedule was just hectic, that he would snap back and things would return to normal. But normal never came.

The days were filled with him coming home late, falling asleep early, barely speaking to you. You’d sit in the living room, looking at him from across the room, trying to make small talk, but it always felt like there was a wall between you two.

You wanted to reach out to him, but every time you tried, he seemed so caught up in his own world that your efforts felt like nothing. You’d settle into silence again, playing the part of the supportive girlfriend, pretending that everything was fine.

But today was different.

Today was Christmas Eve, and the air was thick with unspoken tension. You had gone out of your way to make the evening special—decorating the house with sparkly ornaments, lighting the fireplace, preparing his favorite dinner.

The tree stood proudly in the corner, its lights twinkling in rhythm with the calm, soft music playing in the background. You had done everything, and yet, there was a part of you that felt hollow. There was no excitement in his eyes when he walked in the door, no appreciation for your effort, no spark of warmth that you once shared.

It all hit you at that moment.

He had walked into the house hours ago, greeted you with a distracted smile, barely a kiss on your cheek before disappearing into his study to check his phone.

He hadn’t even noticed the decorations or the fact that you were dressed up in the special outfit you knew he loved. You had tried to make conversation, but it was like pulling teeth. The distance between you was palpable, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You had waited until you couldn’t bear the silence anymore. The festive cheer that had once enveloped you had turned to ashes, and now all that was left was a feeling of deep disappointment.

It was late now, the clock ticking away as you nervously fiddled with the hem of your sweater. You had a decision to make. Your hands were trembling, and your chest felt tight as you stood up, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

You took a deep breath and walked toward his study, where you could hear him typing away at his computer, likely working on something for his next race. The door was cracked open, just enough for you to slip inside.

“Daniel,” you said softly, your voice trembling. He didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge that you were standing there.

“Mm?” He muttered, his fingers still moving over the keyboard.

“Can we talk?” you asked again, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your heart pounded in your chest, nerves threatening to overwhelm you.

He finally looked up, giving you a distracted smile. “Of course, what’s up?”

You stood there, silently staring at him, feeling a rush of frustration. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t care, not really. Not the way he used to.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you whispered, your heart heavy as the words left your lips.

He furrowed his brows, clearly confused. “Do what?”

“This.” You motioned between the two of you, the space that had grown between you over the months. “This... distance. You don’t care anymore, Daniel. You don’t even try anymore.”

He blinked, taking a deep breath, as though he didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “What do you mean? I’ve been busy with work. You know how it is.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s all you ever say. ‘I’m busy, I’m tired.’ I’m so tired of hearing that. It’s been months, Daniel. Months of feeling like I’m invisible. Like I’m not enough. I’ve tried... I’ve tried everything, and you haven’t even noticed. It’s not just the work, it’s the way you don’t even care about spending time with me. You don’t make any effort anymore. You’re just… here.”

The words tumbled out, each one like a weight being lifted off your chest, but as you spoke, you could feel the sting of tears threatening to fall. You hadn’t planned on saying it this way, hadn’t planned on letting everything spill out in a raw, messy flood. But now that you had, you couldn’t stop. It felt like you had been holding your breath for so long, and now, the dam had burst.

Daniel’s expression softened, but it was too little, too late. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said quietly, his voice almost apologetic. “I’m just stressed. Work’s been tough, and I haven’t been the best at balancing it.”

“Balancing?” You scoffed, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Balancing would mean making an effort, Daniel. And I’m not asking for much. I’m not asking for all your time. I just want to feel like I matter.”

He stood up slowly, taking a few steps toward you. “I do care, okay? I just… I’ve been trying to get things right, and sometimes I just forget to focus on the things that matter. Like you.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Maybe you’ve forgotten how to focus on me, and maybe I’ve let myself pretend that things would get better. But they haven’t. And I can’t keep waiting for something that may never happen.”

His eyes widened, as though the weight of your words had finally hit him. He reached out to you, his hand brushing your arm, but you took a step back, feeling a sudden chill in the air.

“Don’t,” you said quietly, trying to steady your breath. “I’ve waited long enough, Daniel. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. It’s over.”

You could see the shock in his eyes, the way his face fell, but it was too late. You couldn’t keep sacrificing your own happiness for a relationship that wasn’t even there anymore. The tears you had been holding back finally fell, the first one slipping down your cheek, and then another, and another, until you were choking on sobs, unable to stop them.

“Please don’t do this,” Daniel pleaded, his voice thick with emotion as he reached for you again. But you stepped back again, shaking your head.

“I have to,” you whispered, your heartbreaking with each word. “I can’t keep doing this. I deserve more than this. I deserve someone who will care, someone who will make me feel loved and important. And right now, I don’t have that.”

Daniel stood there in silence, his face a mixture of sadness and guilt. But it was too late for apologies, too late for promises. You had made up your mind.

With one last look, you turned and walked toward the door, your chest tight with pain. You didn’t want to leave him on Christmas Eve, of all nights, but the heartache of feeling neglected and forgotten had become too much to bear.

You opened the door, ready to walk out of the life you had built together, but then you stopped, your hand still on the handle. You heard Daniel’s voice again, soft and broken.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “But sometimes… sorry isn’t enough.”

And with that, you left, the door clicking shut behind you as you walked out into the cold December night, alone, but resolute. The Christmas lights still twinkled outside, the world still looked the same, but your heart felt shattered.

Tears had destroyed Christmas.

[funkii4-blog]

SMG34 In 2024: A Recap Essay

(all text, no images aside from cover below)

This is extremely long since we got fed pretty well this year, so be prepared to read 3000 words of pure insanity from my silly little brain :))

14x01: Mario Opens A Can Of Beans

Not much to begin with as 3 appears very little in this episode, but about two thirds of the way through he's seen stopping by the castle to ask 4 if he can borrow some sugar. Which is funny since he literally owns a cafe next door to the castle lol

14x02: You Used To Be Cool

Oh boy, this one was a real kicker for being so early in the year, specifically for its second half.  

During the scene where 3 is attempting to torture Depresso, we get a short sequence of him thinking back on memories with his friends; playing Garry’s Mod with Mario, Meggy’s heart-to-heart with him in IGBP, and with 4... Snowtrapped?! This is of course the infamous episode from all the way back in 2016 in which the two got rather intimate with each other, so it’s wild that that is what he thought of with 4 first after everything they’ve been through together.

A little later, in an attempt to get 3 to show he’s still a villain (which he isn’t), Eggman tasks him with killing 4 as his final test. When 3 is told to do this, we can instantly see the unease and regret in 3’s reaction; and it’s made clear that he doesn’t want to do this. Over the last year's worth of episodes up to this point, 3 and 4’s bond had improved drastically; it’d been long established by this point that the two are friends now. 

We then see him in his room holding the gun shakily, visibly terrified; he knows he can’t do this, but he also wants to prove himself to Eggman and is torn. He has another sequence of looking back on memories with 4; the moment he finally declared they were friends at the edge of the Demon Pit, their sweet moment under the sunrise (sunset? Idk I just say it’s the morning following the casino heist) as he drew the two of them in his notebook, and as far back as during the Cosmology saga when they only first started to bond. 

He hits a practice target on his wall and starts boasting about how he “finally has a reason to kill that bozo”, but Eggdog is quick to confront what we already know: 3 cares about 4 and doesn’t actually want to hurt him. And while we can’t understand what Eggdog is saying, I think it’s pretty likely he was giving 3 a hard time about how he actually has a crush on 4, to which 3 ignores and leaves the room. 

Cut to the next day when 3 goes to perform the act; he walks into the kitchen where 4 is, raising the gun and saying a dark monologue (presumably knowing Eggman is listening in). He apologizes for this (something I highly doubt he would have done just a year before), and we get a cut to the window being splattered. We of course know he didn’t actually do it, but they still pull this fakeout on us; 3 actually shot the tomato meme that 4 had on the counter to trick Eggman. 

He says he was actually considering killing him “like usual” (which we know isn’t true anymore), to which 4 cries. Eggman then tries to attack the two of them; he initially aims at 3, who is unfazed by this. However, he switches his aim to 4, causing 3 to immediately panic and take down Eggman himself to avoid 4 getting hit. 

The episode ends with 3 setting his hand on the back of the still-crying 4, who is mourning the death of his tomato meme, as he monologues again; this time it’s about how he’s realized he doesn't need to prove how evil he is and that he’s happy with the people around him. 

14x03: CEO Of Rizz

4 doesn't appear in this episode, but I still wanted to note something in this one to come back to later. This episode is about 3 helping Boopkins with his televised date while trying to boost the cafe’s popularity, and there’s a scene early on where 3 goes over gift ideas. He ultimately settles on a creepy Mickey Mouse sculpture, claiming it to be a perfect gift to give a date. 

14x06: Trash Friends

This one also has a lot to cover, so buckle up ;)

3 is currently under a lot of stress, as his recently opened cafe is having a rough start and seemingly failing. 4 runs to him, also upset about supposedly losing an important endorsement he received. When 3 is confused, 4 proceeds to grab him by the face and pull him close in order to use his powers & project a memory of him losing the endorsement onto 3. He begs 3 for his help, claiming it’s because they’re friends and friends help each other.  

4 then urgently claims he needs this endorsement to become popular; we then see 3 getting an idea to take the endorsement for the cafe, but I also like to think he wanted to get it out of 4’s hands to keep him from growing power hungry over his popularity again. He did put a camera in 4’s room to make sure he didn’t go insane again after the whole perfect video fiasco, after all; he wants to look out for him and make sure there isn't a repeat of that. 

Getting this idea, 3 gets 4 to warm up to him via the “buddy chum pal” bit (the exact same way 4 did to him all the way back in Are You Okay). The two of them along with Mario then go to the trash dump to retrieve the endorsement, and classic star trio chaos ensues. 

The two guardians split up and spend hours trying to find Mario, having walkie-talkie conversations in between. 4 asks about the business, to which 3 lies and says thing are going well. When they join back up and 4 sees 3 trying to open a blocked door, 3 panics and says he’s just trying to open the door for him. 

Something interesting happens after that: when 4 is talking, 3 dissociates and ends up imagining 4 belittling him in a way that expresses 3’s fears: specifically, his fears of being inferior to the other (“worse version of you”) and being forgotten. This isn’t confirmed, but I've seen it theorized that the only opinion that matters to 3 is 4’s (with vice versa also possible). 

Once they find Mario, they fight over him as they both try to claim the drive with the endorsement on it, 3 avoiding telling 4 the truth as long as he can. 

The fight eventually goes too far, with 4 calling 3 selfish since he doesn’t understand why 3 wants it so badly. This causes 3 to snap and have a breakdown, admitting his business is struggling severely and how he feels as if he’s the worse version of 4. This makes 4 realize that 3 is struggling a lot more emotionally than he let on, leading to him deciding to give 3 the endorsement willingly.

14x08: SMG4 And SMG3 Rank SMG4 Characters

And here we are, the first of the 3 & 4 improv episodes. I know it’s debated whether these can be considered, but since they consist of Luke & James (4 & 3’s VAs) having in-character improvised conversations, I still want to bring them up. 

A general frequent aspect of these episodes is the two joking around and generally getting along better, which is nice to see. Usually aside from serious moments, we just see them bickering like the rivals they used to be to each other. We also can see loving glances exchanged from time to time in these episodes’ animation portions. 

14x12: Once Upon An SMG4

I only have one note for this one and it won’t make sense unless you’ve watched The Cuphead Show since it’s a parallel to a scene in that, but I still want to talk about it.

After 3’s song at the beginning, he asks aloud “whoever shall be my sugar daddy?” (yes, that’s actually what he said word for word). There proceeds to immediately be a cut to 4 in his lair. This instantly reminded me of the scene in the Cuphead Show episode “Down & Out”, where King Dice claims there's just one thing missing from the revival of his career; there proceeds to be a camera pan downward to The Devil going about his business in hell. Another thing that likely won’t be known by non-Cuphead fans is that the ship between King Dice and The Devil (at least within the show, idk about the game) is semi-canon: They don’t get together in the media itself, but the team behind the show as well as the two’s voice actors have repeatedly expressed their support of the ship. And based on various events the ship between 3 and 4 can easily also be considered semi-canon... :3 

S14 Movie: Puzzlevision

I think it’s safe to say all the good stuff from this chapter of the PV saga was reserved for this movie, because there’s once again a lot to cover here. So here we go! 

The first of many parodies covered in this movie is of SpongeBob with, pretty fittingly to their characters, 4 as SpongeBob and 3 as Squidward. I know this was likely just done to fit the character roles, but you know I can’t help but note that the ship between SpongeBob and Squidward is also very popular within its own fandom. 

Throughout the movie, the two are seen being notably defensive and protective of each other in the presence of Puzzles, moreso 3 of 4. 

Once the gang is split up into different channels after the song, 3 and 4 are of course put together. The first parody they have to face is Rugrats. When 3 is grabbed, 4 doesn’t hesitate to spring into action and save him. 3 responds with a vulnerable “You saved me!” before going tsundere and calling 4 a baka (surprisingly the only time this running gag was used this year). 

After escaping that channel, they land in a parody of the Titanic film. They spot the portal to the next channel high up in the air above the ship, but neither can reach it on their own. 4 suggests he lifts 3 up to reach it, which 3 hesitantly agrees. The two proceed to reenact one of the most well-known romance scenes in all of cinema, with 3 becoming entranced by the beauty of the view around them as he’s held up by 4, embracing the moment before 4 throws him into the portal. 

14x15: SMG4 And SMG3 Design A Mascot Horror

When discussing game genres to implement, there’s a visual at around the 7:30 mark where 3 (dressed as their game’s mascot) pins 4 against a wall in a flirty manner. 

A bit later when narrowing down mechanics to use, for a split second after 3 & 4 agree to keep the romance aspect, Mario holds up a sign that says “Hi Twitter”. 

14x16: SMG4 Doesn't Meme For 1 Second

I’m not a fan of revisiting this episode, but I’ll do what I must in this case... 

After 4 is sent away, 3 is one of the first to acknowledge that he misses the other’s antics, looking on fondly as he says it made the gang’s lives more exciting. He is also the one to initiate a plan to retrieve 4 from the facility, aggressively knocking on the door when they get there to reach Mr. Niceguy. Much like everyone else, 3 is horrified when he sees how different 4 is when they see him again, attempting to snap him out of it with memes,

14x19: SMG4 Simulator

In the fishing minigame scene, when 4 fishes up 3, it says 3 is worth –100 points; however, 3 has a gold & sparkly aura around him that’s typically reserved for the best items in those types of games; additionally, the 0:34 mark on the minigame timer is skipped. I’ve also seen it theorized that this moment could represent 4 pushing away potential romantic feelings he may have for 3. 

Shortly after, 3 is seen sitting next to 4 as he grows sad over not having the reality from the ASMR video he’s listening to, telling him to do something productive before walking away. 4 contemplates briefly before deciding to listen to his advice. 

Toward the end of the episode, he’s shown to have a bootleg plush of 3 in his inventory. 

14x20: Mario's Plane Trip

3 doesn’t appear in this episode, but this is where my note from CEO of Rizz comes in! 

When 4 is getting his luggage scanned, it can be seen that one of the items inside is the creepy Mickey sculpture from before, that 3 described as a great gift for a date. One of 3’s signature bombs is also inside the suitcase. 

In a scene much later in the episode, 4 and Swag have a heart-to-heart about loved ones back home; in this conversation, Swag mentions his spouse. 4 then pulls a locket out and says he has someone waiting back home as well, but the scene is interrupted by Mario before we can see the picture inside. As you can imagine, a lot of people have theorized that 3’s picture is in that locket.

14x27: SMG4 And SMG3 Shop For Cursed Items

It’s a small visual detail but when settling on a gift for Tari, they do a cute high five. 

14x28: Mario Gets Stuck as a GIF 

When Mario loses control and starts to spin around the cafe, 3 quickly pulls 4 under the front counter with him to keep him from getting hurt. 

When 4 is scanning data of 3 in the HQ computer, 3 takes note of how 4 makes the model of him (“Do I really look like that from the back?”), even checking himself out to compare after. 

14x33: Mario Loses His Mustache 

Before the competition, 3 and 4 attempt to conspire to rig it in Mario’s favor; however, this is quickly shut down by Puzzles. 

14x34: SMG4 Theory 

Barely worth noting, but 4 is seen imagining Snowtrapped as he asks if every episode is a dream. 

14x35: SMG4 & SMG3 Come Up with an Episode 

The episode begins with 4 bursting into 3’s room while he sleeps, asking if he’s ready to “make magic”. He then proceeds to ask afterward what he’s doing in 3’s bed (which, mind you, was an improvised line from Luke). 

When 3 asks why 4 needs his help making an episode, 4 responds with telling him that his videos need spice that he thinks 3 can provide, even calling him the rosemary to his bread.  

This is definitely purely coincidental since this line was also improvised, but the rosemary plant has represented love since ancient times, being believed to reveal a person's true love. 

When 4 agrees that 3 should be a main part of the episode, the official sticker of 3 blushing is stuck onto his face. 

The episode they come up with was eventually made, but no, I won't be covering it. 

14x38: Welcome to Puzzle Park 

When Mario is thrown back by the force of Leggy’s yells, it almost seems as if 3 and 4 are leaning on each other on the sofa. 

When 3 sees Luigi get pulled into a portal and realizes something is wrong, his first instinct is to find 4 & Mario and tell them to run. He fails to reach them before getting taken himself, but texts 4 a warning in the last moments beforehand; it’s also seen they both have joke-insult nicknames for each other in their phones. Just a couple years prior 3 would never have taken time to warn anyone and would just have saved himself, showing how far his development has come. 

On top of that, I've seen it guessed that the reason 3 looked so mortified when he saw Luigi get taken was because it gave him flashbacks to seeing 4 get pulled back into the castle in IGBP, hence his immediate action to help 4 get away. 

14x42: Mario Gets Stuck In Traffic

Though they are seen bickering on their way, it’s commonly joked by fans in the shipping community that their trip together to the forklift convention could be seen as a date. 

14x43: The Mario PC Virus

Okay, there’s only a couple notes for this one, but they’re big and important ones. 

When the Crocker virus entities are scavenging through 4’s computer, one of them digs through a folder on his desktop titled ‘Super-Secret Spicy Memes’. It pulls one out, showing 3 traced over a Grimace meme with the text “what’s the matter smg4-kun"; it proceeds to scream the “I know what you are” line from the English dub of Chainsaw Man at 4 over it. It should be noted that that audio bit is commonly used as a joke to tell someone that you know that they’re queer. On top of the meme bring flirtatious in nature and being in a secretive folder, it’s entirely likely that this goofy five-second bit actually indirectly confirms 4’s already-suspected crush on 3. 

When Bonzi’s power destroys the computer’s data, the video projections of 3 and 4 hug somberly as they’re erased; this is the first time that they've been seen emotionally hugging. It’s notably much more romantic in nature compared to a normal hug too, with their foreheads touching and one of each of their hands interlocked. 

Ben, the show’s thumbnail artist, also followed up with a tweet saying “they gay fr :3"  

Late addition, but in the merch sale community post video the day before 14x45, 4’s drawing could be seen taped to a page of 3’s notebook. 

14x46: Luigi Doesn’t Need Mario 

In the scene where the gang is at the hospital, the angle at which they’re shown makes it look like 3 and 4 are holding hands at Mario’s bedside. 

And that's everything! This year may have been a really rough one for the show, but I think it's safe to say the shippers were done a great service throughout. Hopefully the hints keep coming in 2025! (and possibly even them finally becoming canon? please?? it's clear the team loves to play with their dynamic in a romantic way, if they truly want to make it happen then just do it!!! /silly)

[bumblebeehug]

Hiii!! Nalu request: What if nastu was a fashion designer or maybe an artist and Lucy is his model/muse!

His Muse

Summary: Natsu Dragneel is an artist. In his dreams, appears a woman. Notes: i took way too long to start writing on this, lol. thank u anon for giving me a chance to dabble with some AU stuff<3 enjoy! Ao3 - FF.net

***

Natsu Dragneel had a life. A good one, by most standards.

His days were a predictable rhythm: mornings spent staring at blank canvases, afternoons wrestling with half-formed ideas, and evenings spilling beers with Gray and Erza at their usual spot. He had friends who cared about him, a roof over his head, and a reputation as a decent artist who sometimes stumbled into brilliance. But beneath it all was the quiet hum of something missing.

It wasn’t an ache, not really. More like an emptiness that hovered just out of reach, shapeless and stubborn. He used to think it was Igneel, his father – the man who’d disappeared when Natsu was too young to understand why. Finding him should have filled that space. For a while, it did. They’d laughed, reconnected, and healed wounds that time had only scabbed over. But when the dust settled, that hum was still there, as persistent as ever.

He tried to ignore it. But some nights, when he sat in his studio surrounded by the ghosts of half-finished pieces, he wondered if he was just... incomplete.

The night the dream came, he wasn’t thinking about any of that. He’d been frustrated, staring at the same canvas for hours. The paintbrush felt foreign in his hand, the colors on his palette dull no matter how he mixed them. Even his signature reds, the fiery hues that used to blaze across his work, seemed muted. Finally, he’d thrown down his brush and collapsed into bed, letting the world dissolve as sleep took him.

The fire came first.

It roared to life around him, wild and untamed, swallowing the forest in a wave of heat and ash. Natsu didn’t run. There was no point. He crawled through the dirt, every muscle heavy, every breath a struggle. His body felt smaller than it should, fragile like a broken animal waiting for its end.

The flames were alive, ravenous, and they surrounded him on all sides. He closed his eyes, letting the heat press down on him, waiting for it to consume him. Then, through his eyelashes, he saw it.

The moon.

It hung impossibly large in the sky, pale and perfect, untouched by the smoke curling toward it. Its light was soft, yet it cut through the chaos with an authority that silenced everything else. He could feel it – steady and calm, as though it were watching him. Holding him. Suddenly, the fire didn’t matter. He stared up at the moon, and for a moment, he felt... peace.

When he woke, his heart was pounding. His sheets were damp with sweat, and the faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. He sat up, running a hand through his pink locks, but the image of the moon refused to fade. It stayed with him, vivid and haunting, like an ember burning in the back of his mind.

The dream came again the next night. And the night after that.

Each time, it was the same fire, the same searing heat. But the moon was always there, waiting. Watching. And with every dream, he found himself drawn to it more and more, its light pulling him from the flames like a lifeline.

Until the night he heard her voice.

It was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the crackle of the fire like the moonlight itself. He didn’t understand the words at first – nonsense syllables that carried no meaning – but her tone was unmistakable. It was calm and soothing, like she was trying to ease the weight pressing on his chest. He wanted to speak back, but the words wouldn’t come, vocal cords severed by the cutting, searing fire. All he could do was listen, letting her voice wash over him, until the flames seemed to fade into the background.

When he woke that morning, the ache in his chest felt sharper. Clearer. For the first time, he realized: the emptiness he’d carried all these years wasn’t just a part of him. It was a space waiting to be filled. And now, it had a voice.

----------

Natsu’s friends noticed the shift before he did.

“You look like crap,” Gray said one evening, throwing himself onto Natsu’s couch with all the grace of a collapsing tower. “Are you sleeping at all? You look like you’ve been wrestling with demons in your dreams or something.”

Natsu didn’t reply right away. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. He was sleeping, but it never felt like rest. Every time he closed his eyes, the fire returned, blazing brighter and hotter than before. Each time, the moon was waiting, its cool light a balm against the inferno. And now, there was her voice, threading through it all like a melody he couldn’t quite grasp.

“I’m fine,” Natsu muttered, brushing Gray off as he hunched over his easel. His hands worked without thought, dragging a palette knife across the canvas. The colors burned: searing reds, luminous yellows, shadows of blue-gray smoke. The shape was abstract, but he could feel her there, in the way the paint moved.

“You’re not fine,” Gray shot back. “You’ve barely been out of the house, and all you do is paint. What is this, your ‘tortured artist’ phase? At least drink some water or something.”

“I’m not tortured,” Natsu grumbled, glaring at him.

“You’re painting fire,” Gray pointed out, gesturing to the canvas. “Again. You know, I think we’ve got enough flames around here. Maybe paint a puppy or something for once.”

Natsu rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Gray wasn’t wrong. The fire consumed every piece he worked on, spilling out in shapes that felt alive, almost restless. He couldn’t stop himself—it was as if the flames had seeped into his veins, demanding to be unleashed onto the canvas.

But it wasn’t just the fire. It was her.

At first, she was just a voice, murmuring through the smoke in his dreams. But as the nights went on, she became something more. The flames began to shift, their edges softening, and from them, her shape emerged. A silhouette at first, all curves and light, until one night she stepped fully into view.

Her hair was molten gold, cascading in wild waves that shimmered with the heat of the fire. Her skin glowed, almost translucent, as though she were made of the very light she walked through. Her eyes – dark, deep, infinite – held galaxies within them, stars swirling in an endless dance. She was beautiful in a way that defied reason, but it wasn’t her appearance that left him breathless. It was the way she looked at him.

Like she knew him.

“You’re not afraid anymore.”

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried through the fire like it belonged to it, like the flames were hers to command.

Natsu blinked, his body still much too heavy in the heat, but her words cut through the weight like a cool breeze. He wasn’t afraid. The thought settled in his chest, quiet and certain, even though he didn’t understand why.

The woman stepped closer, her bare feet brushing over the flames as if they were solid ground. The fire softened where she moved, its roar dimming to a low hum, like it bent itself to her will.

“That’s good. You shouldn’t be,” she said, her lips curving in a faint smile. “The fire isn’t your enemy.”

The words struck him like an ember to the heart. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask what she meant, but no sound came. He didn’t need to ask. The answer was there, in the way the flames swirled around her, not hostile, but alive.

She stopped in front of him, so close he could see the way her golden hair shimmered with the heat. Her eyes caught his—dark and endless, full of stars.

“It’s you,” she said simply.

The words lingered in the air, sinking into him like they were meant to. The fire surged higher around them, crackling with energy that wasn’t threatening, but electric.

And then she was gone. The fire dissolved into darkness, her figure fading with it. Natsu woke with a sharp breath, his chest heaving as he stared at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but her words remained, seared into his thoughts.

‘The fire isn’t your enemy. It’s you.’ It wasn’t an answer. Not yet. But it was something. And for the first time in weeks, Natsu felt like he wasn’t drowning in the flames.

----------

A few nights later, Gray barged into Natsu’s apartment like a man on a mission.

“If you don’t see sunlight soon, you’re going to become one of your paintings,” he announced, kicking aside a pile of discarded sketches. “And I mean that literally. Like, one day we’ll find you trapped in a canvas somewhere, screaming for help.”

Natsu barely looked up from his work, a half-finished abstract piece where streaks of red and orange clawed up the canvas.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re coming to the club,” Gray declared, ignoring him completely. He grabbed Natsu’s jacket from the back of a chair and tossed it at him. “You need to get drunk, dance like the idiot you are, and maybe talk to someone who isn’t made of acrylics and gouache.”

Reluctantly, Natsu let himself be dragged out. He lingered by the door as Gray tossed him his jacket, muttering something about how it wasn’t worth the trouble. But Gray was already halfway down the hall, yelling over his shoulder, “Move it, ash-head. The world won’t wait for you to catch up.”

With a heavy sigh, Natsu followed.

The streets were crowded, alive with the nighttime buzz of the city. Neon signs flickered above storefronts, and the chatter of passing strangers blended into the rumble of distant traffic. Natsu shoved his hands deep into his pockets, trailing behind Gray, who strode ahead with his usual confidence. Overconfidence, if you asked Natsu.

The air was cool but carried the faint warmth of lingering summer, tinged with the smell of street food and smoke. Natsu glanced at the clusters of people outside bars and restaurants, their laughter spilling out into the night. It all felt distant, like it was happening on the other side of a glass wall.

“You’re gonna have fun,” Gray said, throwing a glance back at him. “You just don’t know it yet.”

“Doubt it,” Natsu muttered, kicking a stray bottle cap across the sidewalk.

“You’re impossible,” Gray groaned, rolling his eyes. But he didn’t slow down, weaving easily through the throngs of people as if he’d done this a thousand times before.

As they neared the club, the bass-heavy thrum of music grew louder, vibrating through the pavement beneath their feet. Bright lights flashed from the open doorway, illuminating a line of people waiting to get in. Gray walked right past them, nodding to the bouncer like they were old friends.

Natsu hesitated at the entrance, glancing back at the quiet street they’d left behind. It felt like a threshold, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross. But Gray grabbed his arm, tugging him inside with a determined grin.

“Come on,” Gray said over the noise, his voice almost drowned out by the music. “This is gonna be good for you. Trust me.”

“This is pointless,” he muttered.

“No,” Gray said sharply, “you hiding in your apartment and staring at a canvas for days is pointless. This? This is fun. You remember fun, right?”

Natsu didn’t answer, but he followed.

The club was packed, its bass-heavy music pulsing like a heartbeat. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and alcohol, the flashing lights cutting through the darkness like electric blades. Gray wasted no time throwing himself into the chaos, chatting up strangers and tossing back shots like he was trying to set a new personal record.

Natsu lingered by the bar, nursing a drink he barely tasted. He watched the crowd move as if through a haze, their bodies twisting and swaying to the beat. It was loud, frenetic, alive – but it felt like something happening to other people, not to him.

He felt detached, like he was watching the world through a fogged window. The fire in his chest, the one that burned so brightly in his dreams, felt dim and muted here. The rhythm of the music didn’t match the pulse of his own heartbeat. The lights, no matter how dazzling, couldn’t compare to the glow of the flames he longed for.

He found himself wishing he were back in bed, chasing the faint hope of seeing her again.

Gray reappeared suddenly, breaking his thoughts.

“You look miserable,” he said, handing Natsu another drink. “Seriously, you’ve got to loosen up. Do I need to hire someone to dance with you, or...?”

“I’m fine,” Natsu muttered, glaring at him.

Gray rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag.

“Okay, fine, but I’m not letting you be a buzzkill all night. Here.” He shoved a joint into Natsu’s hand. “Loke’s stash. Top-shelf. Trust me.”

Natsu hesitated, then raised an eyebrow at Gray.

“This is your grand solution?”

“It’s a solution,” Gray said with a shrug. “Stop overthinking and just do something for once.”

Sighing, Natsu took a hit. The smoke filled his lungs, heavy and acrid, and for a moment, he felt like the world tilted sideways. The music became a low hum in the back of his mind, the flashing lights smearing into streaks of color. Everything blurred at the edges, and he felt... lighter. Unmoored.

“Better?” Gray asked, grinning.

“Sure,” Natsu said, though his voice sounded far away.

“Let’s go outside.” Gray tugged him toward the exit, and Natsu didn’t resist.

The cool night air hit like a splash of water, sharp and invigorating after the heat and chaos of the club. The alley behind the building was quiet, save for the muffled thrum of music and the distant sounds of the city. Natsu found himself crouching by a pile of discarded cardboard, fumbling for a match.

The tiny flame sputtered to life, small and weak, but it held his attention completely. He struck another match, feeding the fire until it grew. The flicker of light reflected in his eyes, hypnotic, drawing him into its dance.

The world around him seemed to fade.

And then she appeared.

She stepped out of the flames as if they were a doorway, her figure forming from the light itself. Her hair was swept into a high side ponytail, her bangs framing her face in a way that felt modern, almost casual. She wore fitted clothes, dark and sleek, clinging to her like the fire had melted and shaped them.

Natsu froze.

She was different, but it was her. He knew it instantly – the way her eyes glimmered, dark and infinite, holding entire galaxies within them. The way the flames bent around her, as if she commanded their very existence. No, that might be the joint playing with him. Still; there she was.

“Are you two okay?” she asked, her voice smooth and quiet, but with a resonance that seemed to vibrate in Natsu’s chest.

Gray blinked, glancing between Natsu and the woman.

“Uh, yeah, we’re fine,” he said awkwardly. Was he missing a shirt?

But Natsu couldn’t speak. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.

And yet, here she was.

It was her.

----------

Natsu couldn’t get the image of her out of his head.

Even as he lay sprawled across Gray’s couch the next morning, staring at the ceiling with a pounding headache and the vague taste of ash in his mouth, her eyes haunted him. Dark and shimmering, like the night sky itself. The memory of her voice – smooth, calm, and impossibly real – echoed in his thoughts. Gray shuffled into the living room, yawning and scratching his head. He looked like shit. Natsu wanted to claw his own eyes out at the sight. Though, at least he was wearing clothes.

“You’re alive. That’s a good sign.”

“Barely,” Natsu muttered, dragging himself upright.

Gray tossed him a bottle of water. “You were acting weird last night. Even for you.”

Natsu didn’t respond. What could he say? Oh, by the way, the woman from my dreams showed up in an alley last night, wearing fire and starlight. No. He wasn’t even sure it had happened. It felt real—too real—but his memory of the moment was hazy, blurred by smoke and exhaustion.

Gray raised an eyebrow as he sat down on the arm of the couch, his eyes scanning Natsu’s face.

"So, who was that girl you were talking to last night?” When Natsu didn’t immediately answer, Gray clarified. “The blonde chick from the club? You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?"

Natsu froze for a split second, his pulse spiking. He hadn’t expected Gray to ask, though part of him had known it was coming. He’d been there after all; he’d seen Natsu’s reaction.

“I… don’t know,” Natsu said quickly, too quickly. He felt a strange twinge of guilt, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain it. Not yet. He shook his head quickly, grabbing the water and standing up. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

Gray snorted. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

The walk back to his apartment felt heavier than usual, his mind spiraling as he replayed the night over and over again. He tried to convince himself it was just the high messing with him, but the memory of her was too sharp to ignore. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, the scent of paint and turpentine greeted him like an old friend. His canvases stood in their usual places, leaning against the walls, half-finished and abandoned. But his eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room.

She was there.

Sitting on his couch, her legs crossed delicately, as though she’d been waiting for hours. Her hair, now loose and cascading over her shoulders, caught the light from his window like recognisable strands of molten gold. She wasn’t wearing the fitted clothes from the alley – this time, her outfit was simple, a flowing dress that shimmered faintly with a light he couldn’t place.

“You,” Natsu said, his voice a breathless whisper.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Your landlord let me in.”

“My- what?” Natsu blinked, his thoughts tangling as he tried to piece together how she could possibly be here. In his apartment. In the flesh.

“I told him I was a friend,” she continued, standing and taking a step toward him. Her movements were fluid, almost otherworldly, like she was gliding rather than walking. She dangled a spare key on her pointer. “You should really make sure he doesn’t hand these out so easily.”

“Why...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “How are you here? What’s going on?”

“You invited me,” she said simply, her gaze steady.

“I- what?”

“At the club,” she added, amusement flickering in her eyes. “You gave me your address.”

Natsu’s face burned as the memory rushed back – a hastily scrawled note on the edge of a torn rolling paper, handed to her in a haze of smoke and desperation. “That wasn’t... I mean, I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think I’d come,” she finished for him, her tone calm but teasing.

He stared at her, his mind racing. Everything about her felt unreal, yet here she was, standing in his apartment like she belonged there. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, but his hands itched to grab his brushes, to capture the way the light played off her skin, to bring her presence to life on canvas.

She stepped closer, stopping just a foot away. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Natsu said quickly, the word escaping before he could stop it.

“I like your work,” she said, gesturing to the scattered canvases and sketches that filled the room. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like... you paint fire, which is literally just a gas, but it feels… alive. Like it’s telling a story.”

Natsu blinked, her words sinking in slowly. She didn’t know. She had no idea she was the woman from his dreams, no clue that her face, her presence, was etched into every brushstroke.

“You like them?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

She stood, walking over to a half-finished painting propped against the wall. Her fingers hovered just above the surface, careful not to touch the wet paint.

“Like isn’t the right word,” she said softly. “I think I’m in love with them.”

Something inside Natsu shifted. The emptiness he’d carried for so long, the weight of feeling like something was always missing, began to lift. It wasn’t gone entirely – he could still feel its edges – but it was quieter now, overshadowed by the warmth of her words and the way she seemed to see right through him.

“I’d like to paint you,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

She turned to him, surprise flickering across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean... if you don’t mind. I think... I think I could make something amazing if you let me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay. I’d like that.”

----------

For the next few hours, the room came alive. Natsu worked with a focus he hadn’t felt in months, his hands moving instinctively as he captured the way the light hit her hair, the way her smile seemed to brighten the space. She sat quietly, her posture relaxed, occasionally watching him with a curiosity that made his heart race.

When he finally stepped back from the canvas, his hands smudged with paint and his chest tight with anticipation, he turned to her.

“Well?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

She stood and approached the painting, her eyes widening as she took it in.

“Is that… me? It’s beautiful,” she said after a long moment, her voice filled with awe. “You’ve captured something... something I didn’t even know was there.”

Natsu swallowed hard, his throat tight. He wanted to tell her everything – about the dreams, about the fire, about the way she’d filled a void he didn’t fully understand. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he simply nodded.

“Thanks.”

She glanced at the clock, then back at him. “I should go,” she said reluctantly.

“Will I see you again?” he asked, the question spilling out before he could second-guess it.

She smiled, a soft, almost shy curve of her lips.

“If you want to.”

He nodded, his chest tightening as she walked toward the door. She paused briefly, looking back at him one last time.

“Your work... it’s amazing,” she said. “You, as a person, are amazing.”

And then she was gone, leaving Natsu standing in the middle of his studio, the air feeling lighter than it had in months. The door closed behind her, but the quiet she left in her wake lingered, wrapping itself around Natsu like a warm blanket. For a long moment, he stood there, listening to the stillness of the room. The humming of the fridge, the faint background noise of a bustling city outside. It was as if the space had shifted with her presence, and now, without her, it seemed like a different place altogether. Lighter. Brighter, even.

Eventually, Natsu made his way back to his chair, his eyes drifting to the canvas in front of him. The portrait. The portrait that now felt more like a memory than a creation. She had become something more than just an image in his mind or a figure in his dreams. She was real. He had touched her, spoken to her, shared moments with her – moments that had shifted everything he had thought he understood.

He sat back, his gaze lingering on the completed portrait, the woman before him as vivid as she had ever been. Every stroke of the brush had felt like an exploration of something deeply familiar, and in the spaces between the strokes, he had found the truth he’d been searching for. The fire that had once threatened to consume him had settled within him, no longer a danger, but a part of him.

Since that night, he hadn’t had the dreams—the wild, desperate fires that once roared through his mind. No more lost, hopeless wandering through flames. No more questions without answers. Sometimes, he wondered if the dreams had ever been real at all, or if they had simply been a prelude, leading him here, to this. But it didn’t matter. He no longer needed the validation of dreams to know she was meant for him.

----------

In the quiet moments, when he would lie beside her, his body pressed against hers in the cool light of the moon, it all became clear. Their connection. The way her touch felt like a promise. The way they fit together, as if they had always known each other in some cosmic sense.

Natsu closed his eyes, remembering how they had come together, bodies entwined, under the soft glow of moonlight. In those moments, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of their breathing, and the gentle hum of something deeper. A bond neither of them had expected, but one they both understood now.

She had been sent to him by the universe itself. His soulmate. His muse.