#first time making a gif and I hate how big it is

[queen-of-deans-booty]

A Long Time Coming

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Warnings: minor angst, implied smut

Summary: You and Sam have always been just friends, but Dean can see you two have been wanting more for quite a while. It’s only a matter of who breaks first. When you get asked out on a date, Dean makes sure Sam goes so he can keep an eye on you, and he hopes this is what it takes for Sam to confess how he’s been feeling.

Square Filled: “I think you look great, (name). As far as I'm concerned, that's America's ass.” (2022) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated! <3

x

What Sam and Dean Winchester do is admirable. They help those in need from monsters that invade our world. Not everyone knows what’s going on, but they don’t care about gratuity. All they want to see is a world rid of monsters. You’re not a hunter, you’re far from it. In fact, you work at the local flower shop as a florist. That’s your passion. Plants.

It’s why the Bunker has become a sanctuary for nature. You bring home your work and even have a garden growing outside. The place is surrounded by dead grass and trees, so you built a box big enough to have not only a flower garden but a food garden. Sam doesn’t mind since it’s getting him to eat healthier, but Dean hates it.

Still, he doesn’t say anything when he sees a new plant added to the family.

Dean knows more than he lets on. He’s learned that to be the smartest in the room, shut up about most things. One of the things he’s noticed from your time living at the Bunker is how crazy his brother is about you. He sees it in the way Sam looks at you when you’re not paying attention. He sees the way you look at Sam with such admiration and love in your eyes. Sam doesn’t see it because he's a fucking idiot, and you don’t see it because you don’t think Sam would ever love you the way you love him.

So, Dean is stuck in the middle while you beat around the bush every fucking second of every fucking day.

Dean walks into the library and sees you and Sam sitting down surrounded by books. He fights the smirk that threatens to show up because he knows how much you hate reading. Anything. You think it’s boring, yet here you are doing it with Sam. Anything for him, right?

“What are you two doing?” he asks.

“Researching,” Sam answers.

“And you just volunteered your time?” Dean asks you.

“What? I love reading.” Even saying it makes you want to throw up, but you swallow the urge down. “Sam needs help, and I had nothing to do.”

“Mmhmm. What are you reading?”

“Just a book on the lore of archangels. When we rescued all those refugees from the Other World, we raided their libraries. It’s interesting to see how they differ from the archangels of our world.”

As Sam speaks, you’re looking up at him with a dreamy look in your eyes. Sam doesn’t notice with the way his nose is buried in the book, but that’s okay. Dean sees it, and he wants to throw up.

“Well, have fun, you wild kids.” Dean is about to leave when he sees something on the back of his brother’s hand. “What the hell is that?”

There are different color lines on the back of Sam’s hand, ranging from dark to light, glitter to normal.

“Nothing,” Sam mutters.

“I agreed to help Sam read if he agreed to come to Sephora with me. I need new makeup, and he offered to be my swatch sampler,” you reveal.

“Wait, let me get this straight.” Dean can’t wipe the smile off his face. “You willingly went to Sephora and let Y/N put a bunch of makeup samples on your skin? Do you feel like a pretty princess?”

“Get the fuck out.”

Sam is about to throw a book at Dean’s head, but the older Winchester ducks out at the last second.

“Don’t listen to him, Sam. I appreciate you coming with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Sam feels a sense of pride knowing he was able to do this for you. Sure, you could have done it on your own, but the fact is that you asked him to do it for you. Like Dean thinks, you have the hots for Sam just like he has the hots for you, but neither of you will remove the film from your eyes to see it.

Your phone rings on the table, and you look at the message from the guy you’ve been talking to on Tinder. Sam knows what the Tinder ringtone is, and he tries not to stiffen up at the sound of it. Never did you think you would ever use Tinder, but you can’t be held up on Sam forever. If he never gives you any clue that he’s into you, you don’t want to wait around for a maybe.

You either need to get the courage to tell him how you feel or move on. You choose the easier option, thus, Tinder.

“Another date?” Sam asks quietly.

“Yeah. Tonight. He wants to take me out for drinks.”

“Oh, okay. Have fun, then.”

You look at Sam but he refuses to look at you. Yeah, there’s no way Sam likes you. He can barely look at you.

“Thanks. I should go get ready.”

Sam’s shoulders sag once you’re gone, and he slams the book closed. He can’t focus on reading now. All he can focus on is the fact that you’re going out with some stranger, and that stranger might have his hands all over you. He knows all about Tinder and what it actually means.

If you bring that man back here to have sex, he’s going to fucking lose it.

You just finished putting on your dress when Dean knocks on your door. Once you give the verbal okay for him to come in, he does. He doesn’t walk in, just leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you really going to go out on a date?”

“Why not? I’m a single young woman. What’s the big deal?”

“Sam is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“What do you want me to say, Dean? That I’m okay with staying inside and reading with Sam every day? No. If I want to go on Tinder and hook up with a guy, then I’m going to. It’s not my fault Sam isn’t man enough to do anything about it. That's saying he wants to do something about it.”

“He does.”

“Sure.” You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m not waiting around for something that may or may not happen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish getting ready.”

Dean isn’t going to make any progress with you, so he leaves in search of his brother. Sam is still at the library table, staring at nothing.

“Are you really going to let her go on a date?”

Sam snaps out of his trance and shrugs. “She’s a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants.”

“Oh, okay. Sure. She’s going to meet up with this man, have drinks with him, get drunk with him, and allow him to kiss her.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam grits out.

“I can just picture it now. He slides his hands over her thighs and underneath her dress. She's drunk, so she can’t really give consent, but he kisses her anyway with his fingers so close to her pu—”

“God damn it, Dean.”

Sam gets up and storms to his room, and Dean snickers. It’s so easy to rile his younger brother up. Maybe this time, you two will get over this unspoken thing and fuck each other.

Once you’re ready, you say goodbye to the brothers and head out. Dean is letting you use his Impala this one time because he doesn’t want you to take a cab or walk. You get to the bar where Joshua is waiting for you. He seems nice enough, so maybe this might not be so bad.

“Joshua?” He looks at you. “It’s Y/N.”

“Wow, you look even more beautiful than your pictures.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“I already ordered you a drink. I hope you like it.”

You never take a drink that you didn’t see get made, but you don’t want to be rude, either. You take the drink but don’t sip from it. Joshua doesn’t seem to notice and takes out his phone to look at something. You take this moment to get the bartender’s attention.

“Hi, my date ordered this drink for me, but I didn’t see it get made. Do you think I can have another one?”

“Sure thing,” she smiles.

Smart girl, Sam thinks. He’s sitting across the bar, just watching to make sure you’re okay. He’s not going to let anything happen to you even if you don’t know he’s here.

“So, what is it that you do?” Joshua asks once he’s off his phone.

“Oh, I’m a florist. I love everything plants. I actually have—”

“Yeah, I work in sales.” You stop talking the second he opens his mouth. You can’t really be surprised. This is a Tinder date. It’s not like he’s looking for a meaningful relationship. “I’m very good at my job. I can talk someone who hates our product into buying a subscription for an entire year.”

“Wow.” You take your glass from the bartender. “Good for you.”

“Right?”

Joshua rambles on about how great he is, and you’re starting to regret coming out. What can you expect from Tinder? You’re just glad that he isn’t looking for sex right away. You would have left if he did.

“Hey, do you want to head to a different bar? It’s kind of crowded for my taste.”

“Uh, sure. Why not?”

You finish your drink and follow Joshua out of the bar. Yes, you drove here, but you’re okay with leaving the car here if you’re not going to go far. There are a lot of bars around the area, but Joshua walks past most of them. The one he stops at is nearly three blocks from the one you were just at. You have on a nice sundress that falls just above your knees, and cute heels. If you knew this evening would turn into a bar crawl, you would have worn different shoes.

You and Joshua don’t stay at the second bar for long. After a few drinks and more talking from him, he escorts you to another bar. Sam has been following the whole time, and he can see that you’re not into this as much as you thought you were going to be.

By the fourth bar, your feet are killing you. You’re not used to wearing heels all the time. You work in a flower shop. You don’t need to always be so dressed up. Joshua orders two drinks even though you haven’t finished your first one. You haven’t been drinking a whole lot, but you’re a lightweight. You’re already buzzed, and you’ll slide right into drunk if you continue drinking.

“Hey, Joshua, do you mind if we stay here for the rest of the night?”

“Why would we do that?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be a big deal, but I’m wearing heels. We’ve been standing and walking everywhere, and my feet are starting to hurt. I’m cool to chill here if you are.”

Joshua looks at your shoes and scoffs. “It’s not my fault you decided to wear heels on a date.”

Is he serious right now?

“It’s not my fault you decided this date was a bar crawl. I’m out of here.”

You leave Joshua hanging at the bar and make your way through the crowded bar. You know he’s here. You’ve felt him at every bar you’ve been to, and all you want is for him to take you home. You’re too drunk to drive, but you do remember where you’ve put the Impala. Dean would kill you if you left his baby in the city.

“Sam!” you call out when you see him. He lifts his head when he hears his name, and he actually blushes a bit at being caught. “Take me home, yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be when I get home. You know where the Impala is, right?”

“Yeah. Keys?”

You hand him the keys, and you two leave the bar together. The night is starting to dwindle down, and you walk next to Sam.

“Sorry you had to come out to babysit me.”

“No, it’s not babysitting. I was just making sure you were okay. He didn't hurt you, did he?”

“No, he didn’t. Other than a bruised ego, I’m fine.”

You and Sam continue on in silence. The only noise is the clacking of your heels on the concrete. Sam is much taller than you, therefore, he takes bigger steps. He doesn’t realize you’ve been falling behind until he notices you’re not next to him. He pauses and sees you several paces behind him. He knows you normally don’t wear heels, so he can only assume that they are hurting you.

Sam shrugs off his jacket and walks over to you. He wraps it around your waist and secures it by tying the sleeves together, and you look up at him in confusion.

“What are you—Sam!!”

You’re caught off guard when Sam grabs your waist and slings you over his shoulder. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thighs and the other hand on the back of your ankles to keep you in place. You put your hands on his back to steady yourself, otherwise you might throw up.

“Sam! Put me down! I can walk. Yes, my feet hurt, but you don’t have to carry me.” Drinking all night and the sudden rush of blood to your head is enough to make you feel drunk. “Whoa.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you giggle. You slap his ass and gasp when you receive the same treatment. “Hey!”

“You slap my ass, I’ll slap yours.”

“It’s not my fault you have such a great ass. Have you seen you in jeans? God forbid, sweatpants? I’m only human, Sam.”

“I can say the same thing about you.”

“Yeah, right.” Someone whistles, and you see a group of women staring at Sam. It makes you a bit jealous, but can you blame them? “Ooh, I think someone likes you.”

“I have my handful right here,” he chuckles.

“Oh, come on! I can get Dean to pick me up. Go for it, Sam. Get yours.”

“Will you shut up?”

“I think they’re checking out your ass. I think you look great, Sam. As far as I'm concerned, that's America's ass.”

Sam finds the Impala and stops right beside it. He gently lowers you to your feet, allowing your body to practically slide down his. You cling to him as you go down, staring into his eyes the whole time. The air is thick with tension, but the good kind of tension that is usually fixed with a kiss. Ha! The thought of kissing Sam makes you weak in the knees, but does he want to kiss you? The look in his eyes says he does, but maybe that’s irritation for following you all night.

He opens the passenger door for you, and you slide inside. The car ride home is silent because all you can think about is kissing Sam. All Sam can think of is the way your body felt against his. Even in your inebriated state, you can tell Sam is irritated. At what or who, you’re not sure, but you can take a guess.

“So, are we going to talk about it?”

Sam backs you up into the kitchen island and drops to his knees. With a gentle touch, he removes your shoes. “Talk about what?”

“Come on, why are you so pissy?” Sam rolls his eyes and is about to walk away when you grab his thick bicep. “No, no, no. You’re not walking away from me. We’re talking about this. Are you mad at me? I didn’t ask you to pick me up. I was content walking the whole way.”

“Oh, my God,” he mutters under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry you had to come out and babysit me the entire night. I bet all you wanted to do was sit inside and read your books.”

“Will you drop it before I get pissed off?”

”No, tell me what’s wrong? If it’s not me or the fact that you had to carry me, then what?”

Sam has been simmering all night, and this is the moment when it spills out.

“God, I am so sick and tired of you going out with boys and not men.”

You can’t help the bubble of laughter that comes out. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who would you prefer me to date? Old white men who can’t get it up?”

“Me.” His confession makes all the laughter die. He pins you to the kitchen island and puts his hands on either side of you so that you can’t escape him. Not that you’d want to. “You have no idea how hard it is to watch you flirt with men when all I want to do is grab you and kiss you like how you’re meant to be kissed. They could never treat you as well as I could.”

“What are you saying?” you whisper.

“Let me show you instead of telling you.”

Sam slides his hands into your hair and grips it so you can’t move anywhere. He leans down and kisses you, and it’s like the dam breaks. The kisses grow more urgent, and there’s not enough skin for either of you to touch. He cups your thighs and lifts you into his arms, and you wrap your limbs around him.

“Fucking finally.” Neither of you breaks apart to address Dean. “Take this shit to your room.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate to carry you to his room, where he plans on ravishing you all night long.

x

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[queen-of-the-avengers]

Time To Face Your Fear

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: angst, domestic violence (talked about), fearing for your life, fighting for your life

Summary: Running from your past isn’t cowardly. Sometimes, it’s the only way to survive. When your brother gives you a card to a boxing gym, you decide it’s best to learn how to defend yourself. A case of mistaken identity aside, you bond with your trainer in more ways than one.

Square Filled: on the run (2023) for @avengersbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

The TV is on a low volume, but you’re not really paying attention to it. The steaming mug of hot chocolate rests in your hands. You’re not thirsty, you’re just using the mug for warmth. Your older brother walks into the room and sits next to you on the couch. When he puts his hand on your leg, you break out of the trance to look at him.

“How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” you shrug.

“He’s gone, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know,” you whisper.

You don’t believe the words you speak. He can definitely hurt you if he ever finds you. Your ex is a violent man. He’s abusive, and he always took his anger out on you. He’s made countless threats if you ever were to leave, and he even made a threat to harm your older brother,  Kayden, if you were to ever sneak away in the night. That last fateful night, he nearly killed you when you made your escape. You ran all the way to Kayden’s house and haven’t looked back.

That was a month ago, and you’ve been scared that Oliver is going to come after you. Kayden is a big guy, but Oliver is more violent. Oliver will kill Kayden if given the chance.

It’s been a month, but you refuse to leave the house. You hate feeling so small and vulnerable, but you’re scared of going outside. What if he’s right there? What if he makes good on his promises and kills you? Kayden doesn’t know everything Oliver used to do to you, but he knows enough. The only reason Oliver isn’t behind bars is that no one knows where he is. No one can get any kind of charge to stick.

“Look, I think I know what might help you. I know someone who knows someone at a boxing gym. I heard he’s pretty good. He’ll teach you self defense, and I’m talking the good shit. He used to be an MMA fighter.” Kayden reaches into his jeans and pulls out a small business card. A name and a phone number. “Call Nate. Tell him my name, and he’ll help you.”

“I don’t know,” you sigh.

“Think about it. If Oliver ever does come back, you’ll be prepared. It doesn’t hurt to know how to defend yourself.”

“Maybe.”

Over the next couple of days, you think about going there and learning to defend yourself. It takes a couple of days to build up the courage to step outside. If Oliver does know where you are, he doesn’t make an appearance. If he knew where you were staying, he would have already made an attempt to get at you. He might be smart and methodical, but he’s impatient and cocky. He would have already tried to get you.

The boxing gym is only a few blocks from Kayden’s house, so you feel comfortable making the journey. The place is empty except for a woman inside a boxing ring. Damn, even from where you’re standing, she’s beautiful. Dark red curls frame her face, even with most of it up into a high ponytail. She’s resting against the ropes of the ring after an intense workout.

“Hi, excuse me?” She looks up when she hears your voice, and you walk closer to her. “Hi. Is Nate around?”

“Who?”

“Um, my brother, Kayden, gave me this card.” You show her the business card. “He said to ask for Nate.”

“Fucking Joey,” she mutters.

“What?”

“Joey is my graphic designer. He was supposed to put Nat on the cards, not Nate. I’m Nate. Nat, actually. My name is Natasha.”

“Oh,” you blush.

“So, you wanna learn self-defense?”

“Yes, if it’s okay with you.”

“First lesson.” She jumps out of the ring and removes the tape from her hands. “Be confident in your answers. Now, do you want to learn self-defense?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nod.

She smiles. “Nat will do just fine.”

Upon first glance, Natasha looks mean. She has a few tattoos that can easily be hidden if she were to wear different clothes, but shows with her sports bra and shorts. She is a short woman but slightly muscular, showing the years of hard work she’s put into her body. Still, she knows what she’s doing, and she’s eager to work with you.

The first few days of training are all about knowledge and terms you should know before you start getting into the good stuff. All your life, you’ve always been with boys. Even before Oliver, you’ve had a few boyfriends who never stayed long. Never in your entire life have you ever looked at another woman the way you’re looking at Natasha.

Does that make you a coward for bailing on men because of one bad man? Does it make you ashamed for jumping from one gender to the next? Does it scare you to see how women would treat you differently? Does that mean you’re using Natasha? Or does it make you curious to see if there are possibilities that the other gender can offer you? Whatever the reason, you’re considering exploring this with Natasha if she’s interested.

Only with her.

Two weeks of intense training later, and you’re in the ring with Natasha. Of course, she can’t go hard on you, but she’s not going to go easy on you either. Your hair is in two French braids, you have small gloves on your fists, and you have loose shorts on to give you more room to move around in.

The past hour has made you work up a sweat, but Natasha isn’t done yet. Where she punches, you try to dodge, and where you punch, she definitely dodges. You’re so focused on landing a punch that you don’t see her counterattack until it’s too late. She hooks her foot behind yours, and you fall flat on your back. She pins you to the floor with a gorgeous smile on her face.

You don’t care if you never win against her. If you’re beneath her, then you’re okay with it.

“I win,” she smirks.

“I don’t think it’s fair to let your students lose.”

“The day one of my students wins against me is the day I have nothing left to teach. Let me help you up.” She grabs your hands and hauls you to your feet. “I think that’s enough training for today. You’re making good progress. I have an opening tomorrow, but it’s going to have to be later in the day. I have a class.”

“I don’t mind. What time?”

“Four?”

“It’s a date.”

You blush at your words, but it doesn’t seem to bother Natasha. You’re not yet comfortable walking from Kayden’s house to the gym, so you wait until Kayden arrives to pick you up.

“So, how was training?” he asks when you get into the car.

“Natasha says I’m getting really good considering I came in with zero knowledge on how to fight back. I don’t know, I feel better than I have in a long time. It’s like I’m starting to know who I am again.”

“You seem happier,” he smiles.

“I feel happier.”

“Good for you. I’m glad.”

That night, as you’re lying in bed scrolling through social media, you hear something. It’s so quiet that you think it’s coming from the video you’re watching. However, as you scroll to the next video, the noise continues. You lock your phone and lie in the dark, allowing your ears to strain to hear the noise.

It’s a tapping noise. That tapping turns into scratching like something or someone is trying to get into your bedroom window. The curtains are closed, and there is no way in hell you’re going to open them. What will you see? Who will be out there? What will be out there? You slip out of bed and make sure not to be in direct view of the window as you leave. Kayden is snoring in his bed, and you wonder if you should wake him up for this. It could be an animal. It could be nothing.

Deciding against waking Kayden, you walk to the front door carefully. You grab his metal bat for protection and slip out the front door. Your bedroom faces the backyard, so you creep around the side of the house, unsure of what you’re going to see. You peek your head out first, but nothing is there. You keep a death grip on the bat as you make your way to your bedroom window.

No one is out here, and nothing is out there that could have made that noise. However, when you look down, you see footprints in the fresh soil. Someone was here. Someone could still be out here. Fuck this. You shouldn’t have come out here. You rush back inside, lock the front door, and hide underneath your covers until the sun comes out.

Instead of showing up on the dot, you arrive at the gym a little bit before four, and you walk inside knowing you’ll have to wait until Natasha’s class is done. She’s surrounded by a bunch of kids in similar age ranges, all wanting to learn how to fight or protect themselves. Anyone, regardless of age, should know how to defend themselves.

She is sweet and gentle, a complete opposite of how she is with you. Sure, she’s sweet with you, but she's a lot tougher when she teaches you. You sit down in the waiting room and watch her teach. As soon as four rolls around, parents come to collect their children until there is no one left but you and Natasha.

“Alright, are you ready?” she calls out to you.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Are you tired of working with kids? I know I would be.”

“We’ll keep this session short.”

When you’re not here, you’re doing some exercises in Kayden’s home gym to keep up your strength, and it shows. You’re not tough enough to beat her, but you’re putting up a good fight. The session only lasted for thirty minutes, and it was an intense thirty minutes.

“Okay, I’m starving,” Natasha chuckles. “Want to eat with me?”

Is this a date? Is this not a date? Is this just two friends eating some food? Before you can overthink it and ruin the moment, you nod wordlessly. Natasha is too tired to go out, so she orders in food through a delivery service. You two sit in the ring and eat the food once it arrives. It’s nice being here with her, with no one else to bother you.

“So, you’re making good progress. I’m proud of you. You’re a quick learner.”

You’re comfortable enough with her to want to talk about your past, about why you need these lessons.

“I have to be.”

“What do you mean?

“I’m scared that if I don’t learn how to defend myself, my ex-boyfriend will kill me. I don’t know when he’s coming, but I know he will try to find me. I’m not telling you this for pity, and I don’t want you to worry about me. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Considering you came to me with no knowledge, then I say you’re doing pretty well. He better watch out,” she smiles.

“Thank you for being so nice to me. I know you’re just doing your job, but thank you.”

Natasha takes a bite and waits until she swallows to talk. “My job isn’t to be nice. It’s to teach you. I’m nice because I want to be, because I like you.”

You grin. “I like you, too.” You fiddle with your fingers before smoothing out your shorts. “Listen, I hope this isn’t too forward, but do you want to have dinner on Friday? At that new Italian place down the street?”

“I’d like that.”

Natasha somehow moved closer to you, if it were possible, and she ghosts her hand over yours.

“Good.”

Kayden isn’t available to pick you up since he’s with his girlfriend, but you feel comfortable enough to make the quick walk home by yourself. If you jog, you’ll make it half the time. You practically run all the way home in fear of someone following you, but you stop short when you see Kayden’s house. The front door is wide open. He never leaves it open, much less unlocked. You don’t have to step inside to know someone has been inside.

You turn and run right to your neighbor’s house. They’re quite friendly with Kayden. He often invites them to grill and hang out, so you feel comfortable asking them for help. You don’t want to panic, so you knock twice and wait patiently for them to come to the door.

The door opens to reveal Scott, the husband of the couple. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“My front door is open. Kayden never leaves it unlocked, and I’ve been gone since three. Can I wait with you until Kayden gets home?”

“Of course. Should I call the police?”

“No, no. I just want to wait until Kayden gets home.”

Once he receives a text from you about what’s going on, he doesn’t waste time getting home. It takes an hour, but he shows up. He’s always there for you. You stay with Scott and his wife while Kayden checks out the house. No one is in there, and nothing seems to be stolen. You leave Scott’s house and join Kayden inside. It feels different. Someone was definitely here, but why would they come inside if not to steal anything?

This is fishy, and something isn’t right. However, what can you do but try to move on? If there is no one to charge with breaking and entering, then all you can do is prepare and hope it doesn’t happen again.

Friday comes sooner than you think, so you’re getting ready for your date with Natasha. You’re not sure where this will lead, but you’re excited to see. You’re looking at yourself in the mirror, admiring the way you look in your new purple dress, when Kayden knocks on your door.

“Come in.”

“Wow, you look nice,” he smiles.

“Thank you. It’s new.”

“If I haven’t already said it, I’m happy for you. It’s nice to finally see you smile.”

“Thank you, Kayden.”

Once you’re ready, Kadyen drives you to the restaurant. He knows Natasha will take you home at the end of it, so he doesn’t worry about leaving you there. Natasha isn’t here yet, and you don’t want to grab the table without her, so you’re hanging out by the entrance to the alley next to the bar. There are enough people outside that you feel comfortable standing right here. You’re scrolling on your phone when you hear your name.

That voice sends you into a freezing panic. No. It can’t be. You’ve been free for almost two months. If he wanted to find you, he would have done it already. No. You look up and see Oliver standing several feet away from you. He looks good, you have to be honest. He’s a very attractive man, but looks only go so far when you’re a manipulative, abusive asshole.

“Oliver. What are you doing here?”

Every bit of training Natasha gave you goes out the window. You’re too scared of him to remember what she taught you.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. I’m here for you. I think almost two months is enough to get over your tantrum. You’re coming home with me.”

You look at the other people on the sidewalk. It’d be so easy for you to call for help, but they don’t know Oliver like you do. If you know your ex-boyfriend, then you know he’s carrying a gun with him. He’s killed before. He’ll kill everyone here and drag you kicking and screaming if he has to. It kills to have family in law enforcement, and his father is very well known and respected.

“Oliver, we broke up. We’re over. I think it’s time for you to move on.”

Oliver starts walking toward you. A sensible woman would run toward the crowd, but years of abuse taught you to cower in the corner. You back up further into the alley, further away from prying eyes.

“I don’t have to tell you what will happen if I leave here without you.”

“Oliver, please,” you beg. “Don’t do this.”

His calm and collected mask slips from his face knowing no one out there is going to help you.

“Get in the car, Y/N. I won’t ask twice. If I have to, your punishment will be worse.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Go right ahead,” he grins.

Only Oliver would be able to explain away why a woman is screaming and trying to get away from him. He’s very charming. Oliver’s patience has officially run out, and the monster comes out the play. You take the chance and run away from him, but he grabs the ends of your hair and yanks you down to the ground. He’s on top of you before you even have a chance to scream.

Natasha’s training kicks in, and you fight back with as much strength as you have. You knee Oliver in the groin and kick away from him. He grunts out in pain, giving you a few seconds to put some distance between you two. Jab. Cross. Hook. Front Kick. Roundhouse. Everything that Natasha has taught you is coming out messily, but you try them all to get away from him.

Still, Oliver is too strong. He’s too persistent to let you get away. He tackles you to the ground and yanks your arm behind you, twisting it up as high as it can go.

“Oliver! Stop! Please,” you cry. “Someone, help!”

Before you can finish your sentence, Oliver reaches around and grabs your neck, putting heavy pressure on it. You’re too stunned to fight back. You’re going to die or pass out if he doesn’t stop. Suddenly, the pressure lifts and Oliver’s weight is no longer on your body. You hunch over the ground and cough violently, but you look up to see why Oliver had given up.

Your eyes widen when you see Natasha’s legs around Oliver’s neck. He scratches at her thighs, but she flips over backward, taking him with her. Oliver falls onto the ground, and Natasha kicks him swiftly in the face. Blood sprays from Oliver’s face, which only fuels his anger. He gets up to face Natasha, ready to beat her to a pulp. You think he’s going to do it, but she counteracts all of his attacks. She’s no match for him.

You take out your phone and call 911 to report the attack before calling your brother. They both show up at the same time. By then, Natasha has Oliver pinned to the ground at her mercy. Kayden runs past them and brings you into a hug, and you cry against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left,” he apologizes.

“No, it’s not your fault. It was inevitable. I knew it was coming.”

The police arrest Oliver while paramedics check both you and Natasha out. Besides a bruised neck and some scrapes from the fall, you’re okay. You’ll be giving your statement tomorrow to the police, so you can take today to calm down. You’re not sure if the police in this town are in his father’s back pocket, but you’re not going to stop until he is behind bars for good.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say to Natasha after the police leave.

“I hate men like him. I got here just as he was choking you out. I saw red. I didn’t like the idea of you getting hurt.” She rubs your back comfortingly. “I really like you.”

“I really like you,” you smile shyly.

Natasha takes the plunge and leaves a sweet kiss on your lips. It’s not a kiss where you need to return it, just a sweet one.

“How about dinner at my place, instead. Or we can push it back if you need to rest.”

“No, I can still do dinner.” You look at your older brother. “I’m just gonna go with her, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow morning, and we can go to the police station together.”

“Okay.”

Kayden sees how happy Natasha makes you, so he knows you’re in good hands. He’ll make sure Oliver never sees the light of day again because he misses your smile, and that’ll only come out if he's gone.

x

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[magicalqueennightmare]

What Was That?

John Walker x Reader

You don’t necessarily hate him. When he ends up helping up you and you end up in an intimate situation with him, neither of you are sure how the hell it happened.

Semi public sex?

Could be read as a part 1 to Messy

Civilian clothes while hunting down Karli meant jeans and jackets for Sam and Bucky. You however? You said screw it and was wearing one of your favorite dresses. The perks were it paired with boots well, had a high enough slit you could fight in it and no one could clock the fact that you were armed pretty well and carrying extra for Bucky too.

Zemo had unfortunately complimented you on it and it made you want to strangle him, until he offered you money to buy more like it. Then you settled on just glaring at him. 

You were walking down a side road with Sam and Bucky when you heard him. John freaking Walker. The new government appointed Captain America. All Military propaganda glory. The worst part was the man was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Those blue eyes locked you in place and the cocky little smirk? Yeah it made you wonder about other things.

“Hey John, how’d you find us this time?” you greeted and Bucky cut his eyes at you “Don’t antagonize him” you shrugged “It’s fun” John caught up with the four of you, Lemar with him. John did a double take at you “Why are you wearing that?” you crossed your arms “Excuse me?” 

“They’re dressed properly for civilian clothes in case of fighting. You’re in a dress” you laughed “Says the man wearing that” and waved a hand over his suit. You waved a hand over yourself “Guess how many weapons are currently on my person Walker?” he let his eyes skim over you and shrugged “Two at most”

You barked out a laugh “Two guns maybe. I’ve got five knives also” he stood there for a moment staring at you and you grinned “Easy fella, gonna stare a hole through it trying to figure it out” he shook his head “Anyways” 

Zemo was laying across the couch with a cool rag on his face, Bucky had tried to hide the fact that he was going to talk to one of the Doja Milaje but you’d clocked it and Sam was trying to get in contact with Joaquin so you decided to hit the streets and see if you could hear anything more on possible whereabouts for Karli’s crew.

You were walking down a road when you heard a voice call your name and turned to see John. This time he at least had changed out of his uniform. “Like you like this better” he rolled his eyes “Why are you alone?” you shook your head “I’m a big girl, don’t worry. I can handle myself” you kept walking and god bless he fell in step with you.

“Is there a reason besides Bucky that you hate me?” you spun around to face him, pointing a finger in his chest “First of all don’t make assumptions. If I hated you, I would make that clear” his eyes widened slightly but damn him that smirk slipped into place “And second of all?” he asked and you rolled your eyes “If I did hate you, it would be for a better reason because Bucky said so. Men don’t make my decisions for me”

You started back walking and he kept pace “Where are you going?” you sighed “My face isn’t as well known as say, Bucky’s or Sam’s or yours for that matter. I can blend in with crowds and listen. So please back the hell off” 

“I’ll hang back” he agreed so you nodded and walked away. 

You knew John was nearby, you could feel his eyes on you but you moved from place to place listening to locals talk. You knew when to listen and when to move on. You’d picked up a few tidbits you were going to take back to Sam and Bucky. 

You walked around a corner and suddenly you knew your back was against the wall and a knife was to your throat. Before you had time to react, to get the assailant off of you, they were crumpled to the ground. John stood behind them. “Thanks” you muttered and he nodded “I think you’re done for the day” “Yeah”

He decided to walk you back to where you were staying or close anyway. “Gonna tell me what you heard?”   he asked and you turned to face him “John, just go home. This is too heavy for you and Lemar. They’re super soldiers” “We’ve handled worse” he pushed and you groaned “And if one of you get hurt or killed?” 

“Aww worried about me sweetheart?” he teased and you open handedly slapped him. “Get over yourself! I’m trying to look out for you and your partner! You’re a decent man!” you kept walking, cutting down an alleyway and he followed you, his hand wrapping around your arm. He turned you to face him “I’m sorry. That was being an asshole. It’s just.. The pressure that’s on us to find them. I never even wanted the shield. They assigned me to it”

Your eyes widened because you didn’t know that. “What?” he nodded “I can’t be Steve and everyone is looking at me to be him. I’m not a good man, I’m a good soldier. I can take orders. That’s why I’m here. Why I can’t go home” “That’s sad” you admitted and he shrugged “It’s life at this point. Joined straight out of high school”

The two of you kept walking until you turned to face him again “Why keep trying to make friends with Sam and Bucky? Why save our asses?” he shrugged “Why not?” you stared up at him and realized just how pretty his eyes were up close. He was a lot bigger than you too. His larger frame blocking you from sight of any passerbys. “You’re still an asshole” you told him and he nodded “You’re still kind of a bitch” he replied. The next moment your lips met his, your back against the wall as he nudged one clothed thigh between your legs.

Good god the man could kiss. He shifted his leg, pushing against your core and giving just enough pressure to pull a moan from your lips. “Sounds so sweet though” he muttered against  your lips as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You gripped his biceps, trying to ground yourself as you fought the urge to shamelessly rock your hips against his thigh to chase that pressure. 

He pulled back and whispered “Go ahead baby” you whined, rocking your hips tentatively and pleasure shot through you. He grinned “Atta girl” you continued to grind against his thigh as he kissed you, muttering words of praise and encouragement. You felt that knot in your stomach building and when he moved to shift one hand under the skirt of your dress, circling your clit over your panties. You fell apart, your orgasm making you shake slightly.

“Fuck” you whined and he grinned “Feel better?” you nodded, pulling him into a kiss as your hand cupped the apparent bulge in the front of his jeans “I’m wearing a dress John” he nipped at your bottom lip and hooked one of your legs up around his waist. His right hand slid between your bodies, unbuckling and unzipping his jeans. He shoved them down just far enough to get his cock out and you swallowed hard when you saw his size “Backing out on me?” he asked and you shook your head, shifting your leg up higher around his waist “Fuck me already boyscout”

He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up with your opening and pushed into you with one hard thrust of his hips. Your head fell back but he pulled it forward against his chest instead “Cement wall” he muttered. You nodded, clinging to his shoulders as he kissed you. It was tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry. You moved your hips against his to let him know you were ok. His grip tightened and he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in and you gasped “Just like that” he chuckled low “Dirty little thing, begging to get fucked in an alley”

“Feels fucking good John” you whimpered and when your walls fluttered around him from a particular angle he groaned “God damn baby” and hit it again. You gasped as he found a pace that had your back biting into the wall but you could have given a damn less. The pleasure coursing through you made up for any amount of pain. 

“Please don’t fucking stop” you begged and felt his teeth graze the skin of your neck “Wasn’t planning on it” you could feel another orgasm building and he slipped his hand down to let his fingers find your clit. The moment you felt his calloused fingertips on your flesh, your orgasm hit you hard. He moved to swallow your moan with a kiss as you came, clenching down around him. He fucked you through it, then his thrusts got a little sharper, little deeper “Where at sweetheart?” he asked through clenched teeth. “In me, I’m covered” you moaned and his head fell over on your chest as his hips continued to snap into yours “Fuck baby”

He buried himself into you with one final thrust and warmth flooded you when he found his release. He stood there for a few moments, just holding you close to him as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal.  You laughed lightly “What the fuck was that?” he shrugged “Really good sex we shouldn’t mention to anyone else?” you nodded “Agreed on all accounts” he smiled and pressed a final kiss to your lips before easing your leg down. He tucked himself back into his jeans as you fixed your own clothes.

The rest of the walk to where you were staying was in silence and he didn’t even mention the information you’d found out. He simply pressed a kiss to your temple and said “Be careful out there honey” “You too Walker” 

[l0sercat]

Mark x Yandere!Reader

Guys I messed up and I thought Viltrumites could sense people, but I didn't want to fix my mistake so just bear with me. And also I hate how it turned out, but I hope you enjoy the porn 🙃

You've been stalking Mark for years, and now that he has his powers he finally notices you.

Cw: Stalking, Parents are platonic yanderes, Major Character death, obsessive behavior, hate fucking, MDNI, Mark heavily dislikes reader, breeding but no pregnancy, Mark is a little mean to reader, yandere stuff but at least the sex is consensual

You don't know why you're like this. Why you're so weird and obsessive. Could it be from birth or from childhood; who knows you certainly don't. Neither did your parents or the doctors they took you to. No one could understand you, no one could help you. You were just broken, and your parents tried to help you. They really did try, they did anything and everything to make you happy. But their efforts were for nothing. You were like a doll, emotionless and unresponsive to most things. You communicate with them, but not like how a normal child should. You just always look so uninterested. You were forced to move and change schools many times. You were just bullied too much especially at the last one. Not like you really cared, but when you came home with a bruised face your parents decided it was for the best. The first day you arrived at the school you had no idea where your classes were at.

So you looked around the hallway, you laid your eyes on a boy. He seemed average but nice, black hair and dark eyes with a big sweater. You made your way over to him, tapping his shoulder. He looked at you with a small smile gracing his lips. "Hello, can you help me find these classes please?” Your voice is flat and monotonous and your eyes are dull. Mark however doesn't even flinch, He Just smiles even bigger. “Sure! You must be new here right?” He looks at the schedule in your hand. “Oh! We have most of these classes together!” He laughs in surprise. You just give a small ‘hm’ and walk with him. “I'm Mark, what's your name?” he asks, you blink at him and for the first time in your life you smile. A small smile but one nonetheless “Y/n” Mark grins “Nice to meet you Y/n, you're going to love Mr.Mandela he's such a laid back teacher”

Mark continues to talk until you've reached your shared class. Your heart races like never before, and your face is heating up. Your thoughts are consumed by Mark and only him. You don't understand what's happening, all you know is that you don't want this feeling to stop. You finally feel what it's like to be normal. This is how everyone feels, right? Mark and you sit down at a table with another guy. But you paid no mind to the dude. Your eyes only focus on Mark, only his voice fills your ears. Only Mark. Someone taps your shoulder and you turn around. You send a chilling, spine rattling stare at the person who disrupts you. They immediately paused and turned around, apologizing and rushing away. The whole day you followed Mark around like a lost puppy. And he doesn't even notice, just happy he made a new friend. When you get home with a smile on your face your parents are shocked. They looked at each other and decided to approach you gently.

When you all gather at the table to eat. You still have the smallest of smiles on your face. “Sweetie, how was school today?” Your mom asked, your eyes twinkle as the day replays in your mind. You start to slowly talk but as you get to talking about Mark. Your smile grows and you talk faster, rambling about Mark. How amazing he is, how cute and smart he is. How you only want him to look at you, only smile and talk to you. You only want Mark and you need Mark to only want you. Your heart races and your face heats up. You craved him, you do anything for him. Your parents listen intently, sparing each other only a glance and a nod of confirmation. In that moment they both decided they would do anything to keep you happy.

“Well Hun do you have a picture of him?” your dad questions, you nod your head excitedly and fast. You pull out dozens of photos of mark. Your parents just smile as you finally show emotion. They don't even see this as weird or creepy. “That's great Sweetie, and remember if you need anything just ask!” you beam at them and grab all your photos and scramble to your room. Your parents hold each other's hands and lean on one another watching you happily scurry to your room. And they meant what they said. They bought you anything you needed. Whether it was a better camera and photo albums. It didn't matter if the things you asked for were for stalking Mark. They didn't even care that you stayed out late stalking him. The smile that you had when you came home just made them so happy. Their baby girl was finally happy and showing emotion.

The shrine you made for him grew so big you asked your parents for either another room or a shed for everything. They bought you a large luxurious shed, costumed to how you wanted it. It was honestly more like a trailer.

You collected anything and everything of Marks. But his figurines and comic books you wouldn't touch out of respect for him. You knew how much they meant so you left them be. But stealing his worn boxers or toothbrush was on the table. When he was at Williams, much to your annoyance, you would lay in his bed and smell his scent. Getting yourself off to his smell, your juices lightly soak his pillow you were riding. The same one he would rest his head on. With how much you stalked him you'd eventually find out that his dad is Omni man. But who cared Mark was all you cared about. The only thing that surprised you was that Nolan didn't know you were stalking Mark. You thought since he was an alien he could sense you. But who cares even if he did know, you would never stop, only death could put an end to your obsession.

—

You tried really hard to continue to be friends with Mark. But it seems like the gods hated you. Mark tried as hard as he could to be nice to you, he really did. But you were rude to William and very creepy towards himself. At first he didn't really notice, he just thought you were shy. Your face is always heating up and you'd have a slight stutter. But then he noticed how obsessive and possessive you sounded. If he mentioned anyone you'd get a scary look on your face. If it was a girl you'd ask who she was and why he would be talking to her. Mark had enough and told you to leave him alone. You felt your heart shatter and that day you came home crying. Your parents were confused and when they learned what happened they were livid. But you told them to leave it be that you were fine. You weren't fine, you started plotting how to take him for only you. You would blend into the background and watch him. Getting rid of any competition that was in your way.

When it was senior year of high school the obsession seemed to be at its peak. You craved Mark like never before. You didn't know how long you could control yourself. You needed Mark so badly, there were nights where you touched yourself for hours thinking about him. Your face buried in his shirt you took, your fingers expertly making you come undone. His name is moaned out loudly as your back arches when you finally reach that sweet release. Your body twitches as it comes down from the sweet sweet high. Dopamine floods your brain as a possible future with Mark presents itself in your mind. You are living happily with Mark and an adorable pet and possibly a child on the way. You grin and start touching yourself again to the thought of him breeding you every single night. Whimpering and chanting in your ear ‘mine’ until he spills his sticky seed inside you. He kisses you passionately and doesn't stop until you cum again.

The next day at school you hummed to yourself when you were on your way to find Mark. Only to immediately frown and have to hold yourself back from raging out. There was Todd harming your Mark. Your eyes darted around and you made the connections. The realization made you livid, your fist clenched and shook. You were going to tear those bitches apart. The bloodlust oozed out of you, you were plotting a thousand ways to torture and kill them. First you'll get rid of Todd for even daring to touch your Mark. Then Amber for causing Todd to hurt Mark. When Todd walked away Mark's eyes briefly met yours, they filled with disgust. Then he looked away, you bit your lip and turned around walking away. That night Todd was locked in your shed, the one where you worshiped Mark. His eyes bulged, not just in fear but shock at what he was seeing. Every square inch of space was dedicated towards Mark. Everything was Mark, he screamed as loud as he could. Not like it would help considering he had a gag in his mouth. He thrashed in the chair he was tied down to. You didn't even find his pathetic self amusing. You just glared at him from across the room. “Oh shut up Todd you piss me off” you spat at him as you made your way towards him.

You clench the small knife in your hand as you trace his throat with it. “You shouldn't have messed with Mark and now you're going to have to pay” you whisper in Todd's ear making him sob, who knew that he had to pay for his actions. He tried to beg, tried to plea for forgiveness, to appeal to your humanity but it was too late. You made up your mind a long time ago that anyone who messed with your Mark would have to die. You would love to torture Todd but you grew bored of his crying. But then again on the other hand the way he hurt your Mark he deserves to hurt for a bit. A small smile quirks upon your lips thinking about Mark and what he would do if he saw you right now. Would he embrace you with a gentle smile or would he look at you with disgust and call the cops on you. You sigh as you already knew the answer but you couldn't help but be delusional even just for a little bit. You're giggling confused and scared Todd as he felt like he was going to piss himself from how terrified he was. That night you spent hours hurting Todd like how he hurt your Mark. But as soon as you saw the sun break out you knew you had to end things, so with a flick of your wrist you slit Todd's throat making him gasp. Blood oozed out of the wound and he started to choke, tears flowing freely from his eyes as he realized he was now dying. He was scared but there was nothing he could do, but just sit there and bleed out to death. Slowly and painfully as his vision faded in and out black spots formed in his vision. If only he decided not to antagonize Amber and not to touch Mark all this could have been avoided. But it was too late for that now what was done is done.

You yawned as you made your way out of the shed reminding yourself to clean up the body later as you had to get ready for school. You grinned at the thought of seeing your handsome Mark again.

—

When you arrived at school you immediately rushed to find Mark. What you didn't expect was for him to be walking down the hallway with Amber by his side, they're both chatting it up like they've known each other for years. You can't believe the sight you see in front of you. Anger clouds your mind and all you can do is just silently stand there and watch them. You want to bash the bitches brains in but you know you couldn't do it here in public. Before she could get any closer to your Mark you would end her life tonight. You couldn't even bear the thought of her being with Mark for just another second, but you'd have to try. You just have to make it through another 7 hours without thinking of how they're joking with each other like how you used to with him.

You smiled to yourself thinking of ways to hurt her, and deciding how to kill her. But for now you have to make it through English first. You sigh as you open your notebook and start to doodle him. Hearts are drawn around him and your initials are written in them. You suppress a giggle thinking about how happy you and Mark are going to be.

—

Amber screamed through her gag, she thrashed about in her restraints. The first thing she saw when she awoke from unconsciousness was Todd's dead body. Then she noticed she was gagged and tied to a chair. Her mind and heart started racing a thousand miles per minute. She looked around the room and noticed how everything was covered in Mark. Tears spilled out of her eyes and she muttered a ‘what the fuck’. She didn't know what the hell was going on and that scared her.

She knew she needed to try to get out of her restraints. So she tried her best to tug and pull on the rope, but it was tight and hurt her everytime she moved. A sound came from the corner of the room making her head snap to face that direction. Her eyes were impossibly wide as she saw your figure stalk towards her. “Stop struggling already, it's pointless, you're not getting out” you spoke in a dull flat voice.

Mark truly seemed to be the only one to spark any kind of emotion out of you. Well except when dumb bitches hurt or mess with your Mark. Then they are able to make you rage like never before. You twirl a knife in your hand, Amber shakes and tries to plead. Of course you don't really care and her pleas are muffled. Making it very hard to understand her, but even if you could it wouldn't change your mind. She was going to die tonight.

—

You sing to yourself a tune that your mother used to sing to you. You cleaned up the trailer and put the bodies in bags. You asked your parents to help you dispose of them which they happily agreed to. You skipped all the way to school that day knowing that another obstacle was gotten rid of.

Mark got to school and was confused when he didn't see Amber. And when he arrived at the place that they were supposed to hang out at and she didn't show. He was sad and tried to call her, but to no avail she didn't answer. She couldn't answer. Mark walked home wondering what happened and what he did wrong. You just stalked him and admired the kicked puppy look on his face.

—

You watched Mark take out the trash and throw it all the way to space. Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth to not let out any sound. You were surprised but excited for him. Although if he had powers now it would make things very difficult to take him.

You watched him run home after his shift and excitedly tell his parents about his powers. And you just giggled as the look on his face just made you so happy. Mark sensed something and he looked towards your direction. You were hiding in the bushes so he couldn't see you, but it felt like he was seeing right through you. Nolan glanced at him and then what he was staring at. Debbie's brows furrowed and she asked what's wrong. Mark's eyes wavered and he turned back with a smile. “Sorry Mom it was nothing” he forced a laugh, you froze in your spot as Nolan was staring right in your direction. But he quickly turned away and faced a confused Debbie. Your body shook in excitement and fear. He sensed you, he finally noticed you. But so did his father, who could so easily kill you. You normally wouldn't mind but you were so close to your goal you didn't want to die now.

—

You watched Mark every day, and he felt your presence every time. But he didn't do anything knowing that you couldn't hurt him. But it was annoying and he quickly grew tired of your stalking.

He talked to his dad about it, and his dad admitted knowing about you. Mark was stunned when Nolan explained how he didn't do anything because you weren't a threat.

The next time Mark caught you following him he decided to do something about it.

—

You were following Mark home as usual, you were in a normal outfit; nothing too suspicious. Mark sensed your presence at once, he turned around before you could hide. He flew so fast to you, you thought he teleported. You gasped and jumped back as his face was inches from yours. Your heartbeat sped up rapidly, skipping a few beats. Mark scrutinized you, he didn't completely hate you, but he didn't like you. “Why do you keep following me?” Your brain fries, you can't believe he is talking to you! You stutter out a few words but then quickly shut your mouth in embarrassment.

You try again as he just looks down at you, “Hi Mark!” You're able to say with a lot of enthusiasm, he sneers “Answer me” you smile “I just want to make sure you get home safely!” he scoffs “Oh cut the shit you know that I'm capable enough to defend myself” you just smile sweetly at him. “What will it take for you to just leave me alone?” your sweet smile forms into a smirk as something mischievous glints in your eyes.

—

You gasp as you're tossed onto his bed, your body is shaking in excitement. Mark tosses his clothes onto the floor, and he scowls at you. “Can't even take off your own clothes?” He grabs your legs and pulls you towards him. His fingers hook underneath your pants and underwear, yanking them down. He tosses them onto the floor, he pulls off your shirt and unclasps your bra. You feel hot all over watching the guy you've had feelings for is about to fuck you.

You let out a small moan as he climbs on top of you. His brown eyes glaring into yours, you bite your lip “Just to let you know Mark I'm a virgin, I've been saving it for you…” you lovingly gaze into his eyes and you notice a slight blush form on his cheeks. “Shut up” you know he also hasn't done anything yet. You made sure you both would be each other's first. Mark pins your wrists by your head and your legs straddle his hips. The tip of his cock slowly prods your entrance. He sucks in a breath and curses “Fuckkk~ you're so wet hah…”

You whine as he slowly sinks into you, your hands curl into fists. Your nails dig into your palm, his grip on you gets tighter. Inch by inch he fills you up, you both moan and he is finally all the way inside you. Your hips squirm as it feels uncomfortable, but you force yourself to relax. At long last Mark was finally inside you, you've been waiting forever for this moment. You wish to kiss him but you're not able to. Your legs wrap around his back, just wanting him to stay for a moment. Mark has to calm his body down before he begins to move. But then your legs wrap around him, and he gets irritated. He doesn't want you to be in control.

So he releases your wrists and grips your thighs, pushing them up towards your chest. You whimper out his name in surprise. “Be quiet I'm in control here” he pulls out leaving only the tip in then slams back in. Your back arches and you toss your head back. You groan and your fingers dig themselves into his biceps. You shut your eyes closed for a brief moment, your body trying to adjust to him. Mark bites back a moan as he feels his tip kissing your cervix. He picks up his pace and slams into you hard, he does his best to ignore you and your sounds. He grits his teeth, he hates how you feel and how you sound. But oh how you feel so good, it makes him want to just fill you up to the brim. He already feels his orgasm coming, your mouth is hung open and his name falls from your lips. Your mind is blank and your seeing stars, your nails drag across his skin.

You keep saying his name like it's a prayer, he's like a gift from God themselves. “You better be able to cum from penetration because I'm not helping you out” Mark growled into your ear. You whined and wanted to plead with him to play with your clit. But you saw the look on his face and decided not too. You were lucky enough he was fucking you. So you snaked your hand around to play with yourself. Mark looked at you mewling as you circle your clit with a finger. He laughs cruelly and sped up his pace. He should swat your hand away but with you getting closer to orgasming, your walls tighten up and clench beautifully around his cock.

His body shudders and he can't hold on any longer. He groans and slams hard into you, his sticky seed shoots deep inside you. You moan out his name and your feet curl, you don't complain as he fills your womb. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you rub your clit harder and faster. You're soon cumming after Mark, he whines as you clench around him and milk his cock for more. He leans over you and his chest heaves up and down. Your body relaxes as you come down from your high. Your mind is foggy, but happy as you can't believe you just had sex with Mark Grayson.

Mark releases your thighs and moves to grip hips, you look at him and tilt your head. His eyes are dark and lust filled all he mumbles is ‘more’. He flips you around so you're laying on your stomach. You lay still wondering what he was planning. He moves his finger and traces your slit, watching how his cum spills out of your puffy lips. You whimper as he stuffs his middle finger inside you, forcing his cum back inside you. He then readjusts you so your ass is in the air.

He presses his tip to your weeping hole, he sinks in easier this time. But he doesn't bother giving you time to readjust, he bottoms out instantly. You bury your head into the sheets and cry out his name. He grips the fat of your ass as he slams in and out of you. He leans down so his chest is on your back, his face buried into your neck. He hisses your name like it's a curse, he bites your neck as he pounds his cock into you. You moan as his cock rubs against your g-spot deliciously, it prods your cervix every thrust.

Mark closes his eyes and focuses on pounding into you, you just feel so good and warm. Mark has felt anything this good and he doesn't want it to end. Your face is hot and you're moaning out Mark's name into the sheets. “Who knew you were such a slut? Haha it's kinda pathetic” he leaned up and stared at your ass that jiggled with each thrust. But his words were sent straight to your pussy, it clenched hard around him “Ohh fuck!-” he almost collapsed on top of you if he had less restraint. He quickened his pace as his peak got closer and closer. The way his cock rubs and slides into you, you think you could just cum from penetration. He moves to grip your hips again, slamming his hips harshly against your ass. The sounds of skin slapping skin echo off the walls. He groans and soon he is shooting another warm sticky load inside of you. Filling you up even more, some starts to leak out of you. You whine out and cum on him again, pussy spasming around him and milking his cock.

He grits his teeth and tosses his head forward, resting it on your back. He thrusts one more time into you, spilling the last of his seed into your greedy cunt. He grabs your waist and flips you over, his cock pulling out of you. Cum spills out of you and he just smirks “Oh we're not done yet, hope you have more energy because we are just getting started” his half hard cock hardens with a few lazy pumps of his hand. You whimper and you think you've reached heaven. You're so happy right now, you never want this to end. Your Mark has finally claimed his stake on(more like in) you, what else could you want. Maybe you don't have to kidnap him anymore…

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐓 ! ❞

　wherein a famous actor makes her way to the studio and meets a young man on her way which leads to an unexpected bet about the hyped, upcoming movie ? or he is so far yet so close, it immediately clicked !

ft. bunny iglesias !

content. 5.6k wc , ( kind of ) plantonic , fluff , crack , changes from 3rd perspective to 2nd perspective , strangers to friends , actor!name , bunny igelsias may seem ooc , crappy writing , filled with nonsense anyway , [name] is implied to be shorter than bunny.

author’s note. I seriously hate this oneshot. it’s my first time writing so much but I fear that I didn’t hit his character right. It’s somehow so weird, the pacing! and the writing makes it worse. by the way, it changes to 2nd pov as soon as you introduce yourself properly.

　　"EXCUSE me?" a voice echoed in his ears.

Bunny Iglesias didn't bother to lift his head, too exasperated to reveal his face. You cannot blame him thought. It was a too hot of a summer day to walk around with a cap, glasses and mask.

It may seem suspicious but this is still better than showing his face to the whole world and get crowded by fans. It's rather this than that because he has to make a sacrifice either way.

"How may I help you?" he questioned, voice quiet to not catch any attention.

"Can you show me the way to this street?" the woman questioned. "My phone died on my way."

One thing he noticed was what hid underneath her voice, or rather the tone. Her voice was accompanied by a thick accent while she spoke in Spanish with him — which lets him immediately know that she isn't a local.

"Why not?" Bunny chuckled.

Eventually after, he decided to look up from his lap to get a good glimpse of the woman, his eyes wandering up to her face. "The street?" he asked and glanced at the reflection of her sunglasses.

"Here." she raised her hand to show him her piece of paper.

Ah? The way leads to a famous filming studio. And if he remembers correctly, they're actually in production of a new hit called Anthophile which means as much as lover of flowers.

The whole internet is glazing the upcoming movie because of the actors and director, exclaiming that it would be perfect. But all he knows about the movie is that the male lead loves the female lead since childhood and something about roses.

"It's actually..." he trailed off and wondered. What are the chances that she is a fan of the movie? "What's your purpose of visiting that studio?"

"Pardon?" she was clearly taken by surprise.

Despite her simple face cover, which hid her eyes from the world, he's able to tell that she's surprised by his straightforward question. Yet she is quick to regain composure, putting on an awkward smile.

"I'm part of the crew." as in worker to keep the production go on smoothly? Or as in actress?

His eyes lingered on her facial expression, taking in the awkwardness of her face. She certainly isn't good in hiding her emotions but judging from her tone, she wasn't lying.

Bunny will just assume she's part of the team. "You have to walk straight the next fifteen minutes, then turn right to continue your path till the next street and after that, you just have to look left."

"Ah you have my gratitude!" she thanked him, the awkward smile faltering as her lips curled into a genuine smile.

Okay now he regrets it. But at least she isn't some kind of hardcore fan, who somehow recognised him while he was in the middle of enjoying his dessert with those covers.

Her steps were light and swift, slowly fading into the background the further away she was as he glanced down to his cake. "It certainly is too sweet for me." the boredom returned quickly.

But if he's going to be honest, his mind keeps drifting back to the woman. Was she an actor? She seemed awfully familiar. Too bad she wore big sunglasses to hide her upper face.

　CLACK - CLACK !

The familiar sound of steps rang in his ears again, making him look up. Just to get greeted by the same woman once again. "Excuse me..." she smiled sheepishly, starting with the same words while gripping onto a handkerchief and pen.

"Ah yes? How may I help you again?" a chuckle escaped his lips as he put on the practised smile. "Should I write down the directions for you?"

"No... But you're Bunny Iglesias, right?"

"I am."

"Can I get your autograph?"

Perhaps, he was wrong. Well not perhaps, she was in fact a fan of his.

"Sure." he accepted the handkerchief and used the pen to sign it. "Don't get lost, yeah?"

"I will make sure not to! Thank you so much." she beamed lightly, her smile even bigger and her aura almost as bright as the sun. "Bye bye."

"Bye." he watched as she quickly made her way back to her planned path and noticeably skipped every second step in ultimate joy.

"How I hate those smiling people." the practised smile dropped, his empty eyes no longer following her.

　THE following day was the same. Not exactly the same but similar. The same woman walked past the pastry store, her curious eyes wandering to the window this time — gaze glued to the fake models of goods on display.

No wonder why the Bunny Iglesias sat down here to enjoy his cake. The decoration was beautiful and almost felt homely, the desserts eye-catching and she could only bet that it tasted delicious.

Her legs brought herself to the menu to see for herself. Maybe it won't hurt to get a taste, and at that she could also buy some cake for her co-workers to lighten the mood for yesterday.

It was pretty hectic and tiring after all. "A try won't hurt." she whispered, gripping the handle and opening the door. The fresh scent of the pastry filled her nose, immediately getting greeted in a nice way.

"Welcome." the man send her a smile.

"Oh..!" her eyes lit up at the dessert and looked up. "Do you have any recommendations? Are there any specialties?"

The older male chuckled at her eager and began recommending a few desserts, kind enough to even let her get a taste of them. "I would like to but this... Oh and also this. And that."

"Coming right away, Miss." the man answered, making his way to pack up the mentioned pastries — but he couldn't help but occasionally glance at the young woman in front of the counter.

A big and extravagant hat, made out of luxurious sinamay, sat on her head perfectly, adding more class to her outfit. He would love to catch a glimpse veiled underneath the cover.

The female turned her head back to the interior of the store, watching how a few people sat here and there — all in their own world, minding their own business and enjoying the atmosphere.

Unfortunately though, she wasn't able to find the soccer star. But at least she got herself some pastries and happy co-worker in the near future.

"Here you go." the rustle of plastic filled her world as she turned back to the man.

"Thank you. I would like to pay with card." she got her wallet and pulled out a card.

"I hope you enjoy, Miss."

With those words, she took the bag and was about to step outside of the store. Only to get greeted by a familiar man. "Ah!" her eyes shone bright upon the sight of him.

"Well, good morning to you too." Bunny smiled and held open the door for her, letting her step out first.

"Good morning." she returned.

"You sure got a lot." he chuckled as soon as he glanced at the large bag in her hands.

"It's not only for me!" she immediately informed him. "You want something?"

"Huh?" he blinked in surprise before chuckling again, "no, but thank you."

"Ah but I would give you something without much sugar."

He could tell she was sulking as he rejected her — despite not seeing her face. Yet her voice told him everything he needs to know. Aside from that, why did you mention something without much sugar?

"Oh? What do you mean something without much sugar?" he folded his arms curiously, pretty amused by her.

"Well, you didn't seem to enjoy desserts with much sugar. The Crema Catalana you ate yesterday, you didn't seem to like it very much. It was all written on your face." she explained. "And Crema Catalana is a dessert, coated with caramel which makes it extremely sweet. I would offer you something like Natillas Caseras. The bakery here uses another recipe for Natillas Caseras, where they halve the sugar and replace it with lemon."

Bunny stared at the woman, whose name he still didn't know, his eyes blinking a few times and lashes fluttering at that. To say he was speechless may be an understatement.

"Sorry for rambling." she apologised, the embarrassment and sheepishness catching up with her. "I didn't mean to."

"No, don't worry. Thanks for letting me know though." he assured her.

Eyes staring her figure — only being able to see half of her body though since her hat covered her. It seems like she wasn't a total airhead, a quiet and unnoticeable watcher.

"What do you say?" she questioned, slightly raising her hand. The bag in her hands rustling.

"You sure got a way to convince people." he noted, "sure. I would love to take one then."

"Great!" her voice tingled with excitement, eventually getting the box out of the bag.

"Thank you." the male accepted your gift.

"Hey wait, how should you transport it?" she trailed off.

"I will eat it right away."

"Without a spoon?"

"Might as well ask for one in the bakery."

Silence.

"Sorry for the inconvenience..."

Be sorry, feel bad.

"Don't worry, it's fine." he pushed his actual thoughts away, not having the heart to tell her.

Which was weird. Since when did he hesitate to drop something that'd make someone stop smiling? 

Maybe it was just because she wore a hat, hiding her smile from him. Maybe that's why he's able to tolerate such lively person and even accept her little, generous offer.

A sudden wind caught them off guard, or rather it specifically took her by surprise. The air blew forcefully against her hat, lifting itself to follow the wind, yet unable to since it was shackled to her head.

"Oh..!" her one hand grasped the straps of the plastic bag tightly while her other hand reached out for her hat to not fall off, lifting her head at that.

It was a short moment, only a few seconds. Yet Bunny was still able to see her face, facing her properly now that she looked up. He blinked. She blinked. Their lashes fluttered slowly but surely.

"You are [name] [lastname], right?" he didn't waste time to question her, an unusual smile finding its way to his lips.

"Ah..!" she pulled down her hat deeper into her face, almost letting the edge of her hat grace her nose.

"Too late." he even had the audacity to tease her, his finger lifting the edge to take another look.

"Damn it... I should've stayed by the big sunglasses." she grumbled under her breath, her mood dropping.

"Those were certainly a better choice."

"Don't say that with just a cap. You're also tall, everyone could see your face." she remarked.

"I mean you're right, but I still got a mask."

"Maybe I should buy one too." her eyes landed on the mask underneath his chin, lingering for a while to think throughly. "It's too hot for it though."

"Better than drowning in a crowd of sweaty people."

"Right..." she lets out a sigh, sinking her head in dismay. "I'm [lastname] [name]— Wait, I mean [name] [lastname]."

"That famous actor, who's playing in that upcoming movie."

So you are part of the crew, actually even acting a big role in the production.

"You know me?" you chuckled awkwardly.

"Big fan of yours." no he really wasn't but seeing your eyes light up in pleasant surprise amused him.

"Oh what?" you questioned hopefully.

"Yeah, I'm dying to see the movie." he chuckled. "It got me excited."

"Really? I can invite you to the premiere." you offered.

"No thank you, I was just teasing you."

"Ah." you froze, gazing at the vivid mischief hiding behind his empty eyes. "How kind of you..."

"Sorry sorry."

"Perhaps it was wishful thinking on my behalf." a sigh escaped your lips as you folded your arms before putting on a smile again, "never mind though. I have to go now or else my manager and the producer will scold me."

"Like a little child?"

"Most of the time, yes." your mood sank into the basement, the reminder of their complaints stealing your energy.

"Go on before coming late." he quietly ushered you to.

"Okay... Bye bye." you send him a weak smile, now making your merry way into the studio.

"[name], you dropped something."

With a few steps taken forward, you faced the male again with a curious stare. "Where?" you questioned, eyes searching for the mentioned thing.

Yet it seemed like your eyes were playing tricks with you because there was nothing on the ground.

"Right there where you stand." he used his finger to point at the random direction.

"Huh? Am I that blind?" you worried, stepping back and even crouching down to search for your dropped item.

"Actually..." he trailed off, staring at the middle of your big hat, "I was just joking. There is nothing on the ground."

"What?" you blinked slowly, lifting your head quickly — your hat almost slipping off your head. "Are you... serious?"

"Mmh yeah I am." he smiled at you. "I just wanted to stall your time a little."

"Very funny." you rose from the ground again, your lips forming a straight line. "Now I'm seriously going."

"Bye bye." he waved with the exact same smile, which you didn't catch though.

　ON the next morning, you passed by the bakery once again while wearing a mask, your upper face left revealed. For a second, you were contemplating if you should enter the bakery again and buy some sweets.

Perhaps not. Your eyes searched for a certain person, which resulted in a fail. "Today, I can make up for arriving late." your lips curled into a smile before your legs began moving on their own again.

"Without seeing me?" you halted in your walk, turning your head to the person.

"Bunny, you really are here!" you beamed a little despite the prank he pulled on you yesterday.

"Eh? What do you mean with »really«? Say, you didn't expect to see me here?" he chuckled.

"Honestly? No. I mean we met yesterday and the day before by accident."

"This just means this encounter is not by accident, it was an intended one." he shrugged his shoulders.

"So you wanted to see me?" you smiled at that but he couldn't see it anyway.

"I guess you could put it in that way."

"Naw that's so sweet." it certainly didn't sound like you were mocking him in any way, voice too genuine and not even lacking one bit delight.

"Of course I'm sweet. My name is Bunny." he tilted his head slightly.

"Bunny is a very cute name." you admitted before another thought popped up. "By the way, my offer is still up."

"Which offer?"

"Coming to the premiere of Anthophile."

"Ah no, but thanks. I decline."

"Huh why?" you sulked lightly, finding no reason to smile anymore at his rejection.

"I'm not a big fan of it. I even think it's kind of overrated, getting all glazed by the media." he told you honestly, no lies detected this time. "At the end it's the same romance movie over and over again. Something like this will appear in the future again and gets overhyped again."

"Well, maybe you are right. But not exactly the same movie." you shook your head, "because I'm not in it."

"Pretty confident in your acting." he smiled.

"I am confident that you'll enjoy the movie." you got your phone out. "So? Wanna be my plus one at the premiere?"

"Hmm..." he thought for a second before continuing, "nah, I'm good."

"What why!?" your face fell, now sulking a bit — you really would love if he watched the movie.

"I'm just joking." Bunny chuckled, amused by your reaction.

"Oh god..." you knitted your eyebrows, letting out a sigh. "What now..?"

"Sure, I will come. Challenge accepted, take me with you and convince me that the movie actually deserves the hype and attention." he accepted your unlocked phone, putting in his number. "If not, we will serve ties."

"Yay! I will make sure to not disappoint!" you cheered and took back your phone, "I will give you a call later with more information about the—"

"Oh my god." someone interrupted him, to be more specific it was a girl.

The very excited girl gasped in the utmost shock while squeezing the dear life out of her friend. "Oh my fucking god." tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at the man in front of you.

Bunny Iglesias, the soccer prodigy and rising star of Spain, standing in front of her in all his glory. "A-Aren't you..! Bunny Iglesias!?" she approached the two of you while tears rolled down her cheeks.

"The one and only." you could feel the mood dropping.

"Can you give me an autograph!? A-And a picture at that..?" the girl questioned.

"With me too..! Please?" the friend chimed in, excited like the friend.

"Why not?" he smiled.

Your unblinking eyes observed his face, his smile suddenly different than seconds ago. It looked just like the smile he gave you when you first met, cold and kind of fake — not genuine.

Heck, you aren't even sure what his genuine and sincere smile looks like. You've never seen it. Because it seems like it was his go-to smile. On tv, social media and even in real life.

Now your curiosity is growing with each second, the desire in your mind getting bigger.

The desire to learn more about him.

"Can you take the picture please?" she asked politely.

"Mhm!" you nodded and took her phone, then stepping back to get the three of them into the frame. "Say cheese!"

"Cheese!" the girls said, almost leaning their whole weight on the male.

"Great. It looks perfect." you approached them again, giving the phone back to its rightful owner.

"I-I can't believe it..! I'm so shocked!" her friend stuttered.

Both were still taken by surprise as they frantically searched for a pen in their bags. "If you'd like, you can use mine." you offered, getting out your marker — which you took with you almost everywhere.

"What!? Really..?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you..!"

You watched in silence as Bunny signed their shirts and even one expensive purse. "Here you go." he was still smiling, handing you over the marker. "Thanks for letting me use it, [name]."

"[name]?" they snapper their heads back to you.

"Woops, sorry for blowing your cover." he apologised as fake as he was.

"Don't mind..." you trailed off, sweat dropping as one girl started crying again.

"C-Can we—"

"No need to ask. I already got the message." you laughed, pulling down the mask and signing the same shirt, your name next to Bunny's.

"I can't believe I met the Bunny Iglesias and the [name] [lastname]..!" the girls cried.

"Naw, don't cry. Tears don't suit you." you comforted her, lightly patting her back while giving back her phone after snapping a few pictures.

"A-And I can't believe the [name] [lastname] is comforting me..! It must be the best day of my life." she sobbed, trying her best to wipe away her tears.

"Posted..!" her friend whispered with a big grin, making you freeze.

"Ah post? Please tell me you didn't." your smile faded.

"I did... Is it bad?" she looked up, a worried expression on her face.

"Maybe you should've asked first..."

"I-I will delete it right away! I only got to post the picture with Bunny."

Oh. Well it didn't make it better. But at least she didn't post both pictures — or else the internet will make speculations. Why are you two here together? Are you in a relationship?

"Thank you." Bunny chuckled as the girl deleted the picture again. "But I think it's too late."

"I'm sorry!" the girl apologised.

What really didn't surprise you, was that in the next second you could hear some shoutings. To be specific, call out's of Bunny's name. So it was too late and people already saw it.

"How fast the media is." you sweat dropped and stared at the man in trouble.

"Naw, seems like I got found. I cannot return to this place for the time being." he sighed out and adjusted the cap on his head.

"I'm sorry once again!" the girl apologised.

"Bye bye." you waved Bunny as the shoutings got louder.

"Right. You certainly are lucky." he sighed and took off his cap again, surprising you.

"Huh? Don't you need it yourself?" you asked as soon as he plopped the cap over your head.

"They caught me anyway. You should make your way to the studio too, or else someone will recognise you despite the mask. Giving you the cap is the best way to hide at least one of us." he explained and turned his back to you.

Your lips curled into a smile, putting the mask over your lower face again. "Hopp off, Bunny." you joked as he made his way to somewhere, his pace fast. What did you expect though? He was an athlete.

"Well then. I will also go now before this place gets crowded." you adjusted the cap on your head and looked back to the girls. "Take care, yes? I would suggest you to also go or else you'll get bombarded with questions."

"W-We will..!" they waved you as you disappeared from their sight.

"You think they dating?"

"Maybe... But let's go. Don't post the pictures until we're home."

"Ah and let's just post the pictures with Bunny."

"Why?"

"The social media will go crazy and ask if they're together."

"Right... To be honest I didn't expect to be that kind! Ugh I will definitely watch the movie in the theatre."

"Biggest [name] fan now lol—"

　RING - RING !

You let yourself fall back into the bed, cushion softening the weight as you spread yourself all over the bed, sigh after sigh leaving your lips because of the wrap up of the movie.

It was hectic. Too hectic for you, so you're pretty glad you're finally done with most of the work. The rest can wait — after all, you promised to tell Bunny more about the premiere.

His voice echoed in the room.

"Hi!" the greeting was short yet your delight never-ending, "the premiere is today in three weeks at 6 o'clock. Ah should I pick you up? 'Cause I know the direction, you know?"

"Pfft— Yeah ahem... It's alright. We can meet there."

"Meet there?" you repeated and rolled around the bed. "No way! You're my plus one, we're arriving together."

"Then I will pick you up."

You halted as soon as you landed on your back and stared at the ceiling. "Okay, I'm also fine with that." you beamed lightly for yourself, a smile painting your face. "I'm pretty excited how you will react."

"Not much."

"What do you mean?" your face dropped slightly at his words, frown vivid on your face.

"I won't react at all probably. I'm just there for the challenge and to be your plus one I guess." he was grinning — or smiling?

You aren't sure and you can't make out his expression. You are uncertain. Because you aren't the best in making out emotions through voices, rather making it out through their expressions. And one thing about Bunny is, he always wears the same face.

Always the fake smile, always the same wavelength voice-wise. His eyes may tell you a little to nothing about him, yet you still can figure it out.

Now — you're calling over the phone, only able to listen to the wavelength of his voice, not able to figure out anything. Not over the phone, only in real life face to face.

"The movie will make you feel things, my acting to be specific." you brushed it off despite uncertainty.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter if you could read his expression or not. All that matters is how confident you are, putting faith in the movie — no, putting all faith in your acting.

Because he already said it. The plot may appear in the near future again, just without your acting.

Without you.

"You sure seem different when we first met."

"We met few days ago." you deadpanned slightly at his words, erupting a chuckle out of his throat.

"That's the thing. Quick to open up, aren't you?"

Actually, he is right. You aren't the sweet, kind and caring woman. Not a bubbly one. He thinks, maybe it was all a facade, all a lie. Like the act when you weren't able to lie. You are an actor. Perhaps this is just one of your acts, one of your roles.

"Mmh, really?" you hummed under your breath, "I don't know but you are so far yet so close. It immediately clicked."

He's the complete opposite of you yet so similar to you.

"Talking metaphorical now? I'm going to hang up." was this a threat?

"N-No, please don't hang up! I need company." you stammered in shock, definitely against the idea of him ending the call. "I'm not even good in metaphors and all, it just slipped!"

"Huh? Not good in metaphors? Are you lying again?"

It was clear. He was just joking with you.

"Yeah uh... I just..." you trailed off and sat up, staring at the book of your desk. "I'm not good in that."

It was clear. You were lying to him right now.

There it was placed, your eyes set on the books on your table. The Shakespeare books you read a few nights ago, filled with quotes and metaphors.

"Really? Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not lying!"

You were. He noticed.

Perhaps you are bad in lying, already showed him your true colours. And maybe not everything about you is an act, a lie. He isn't sure but he's sure that he's overthinking most of the things.

You are bad at lying, you are the kind and sweet woman around strangers, sassy and confident around people you feel comfortable with. Maybe it wasn't all an act.

　ON the day of the premiere, you could only put on a calm and collected face while being nervous as heck. As an actor, this made it a lot easier to conceal your true feelings but on the other hand someone could easily figure out through your eyes.

Until now though everything went smoothly, you got picked up by Bunny and drove to the place. You got lots of congratulations of other actors, who were invited, and others while also getting complimented by them for the elegant looks.

"Haha..." you laughed awkwardly, tight-lipped smile planted on your lips.

"I hope you'll like the final results." your elder said with a graceful smile, occasionally glancing at your partner. "Seems like you got yourself a refined man."

"Of course, I was honoured to get invited by the [name] [lastname]. Now I even got the opportunity to meet a gracious lady like you." he smiled.

"Well then, I will make my way to the hall." her cheeks reddened and hurried to the room, suddenly losing face in front of you.

"There she goes." you sighed out in relief, pressure fading into the background as you let go of his arm.

"She was judging you with her eyes." he chimed in, polite smile almost dropping.

"Nevermind. They always do because I'm a new face." you sulked a little.

When you were still a leaner, you admired most of the actors — now that you saw their true colours though, you lost all respect and you decided to become the person, who beginners would look up to.

Someone they can lean on since you know the hardships.

"Let's get going. It's staring soon." you ushered yourself to fasten the pace.

"Yes, I'm dying to watch it." the lie slipped like second nature, making you stare at him expressionlessly.

"Bunny, not the right moment." you narrowed your eyes.

"Sorry sorry." he chuckled.

"I'm genuinely excited and happy, also nervous. Don't joke like this now, okay?" you nudged his arm with your elbow.

"Right, I won't." well not now he caught your arm and wrapped his arm behind your back. "Let's get going or else we'll be late."

"You're the one talking." you huffed before you smiled again, not being able to contain your eager.

The double door got pushed open by two bodyguards to make entrance for the two of you as you entered the spacious room, slowly making your way to the designated seats.

"Oh..! It's about to start soon." you whispered and sat down, right next to Bunny.

"Mmh." he hummed in agreement yet his gaze never left your face, watching how eager you were like you were alive.

"You have to watch every second." you met his eyes with a stern expression and raised your index finger, "observe every little detail and don't even blink."

"Sure." he turned to the screen, just like you wanted.

The lights went out and left the room in darkness, the large screen lit up with a few words — production, title, producer before it changed again. Pictures were shown, hanged on a wall.

"—Careful. Don't hurt yourself. Your body seems pretty weak to handle the cut."

"Oh... Can I get the rose?"

The voices echoed in the room, small yet also loud as it continued. Bunny's eyes stared at the screen, boredom hiding behind them. The plot was basic, nothing special. Two lovers, a few roses and their dreams.

"I can't dance, you can't dance."

"Actually, I learned how to dance for this moment."

"Doesn't change the fact that I cannot dance."

"Please let me guide you then."

The pairing was opposite attracts. But Bunny has to admit, the writing is great and nothing feels too rushed. And he just had to admit — the acting was great. Your acting was great to be more specific.

He wonders how you can stay so stoic and expressionless despite having the sweetest lover. You are bad in lying, yet you concealed your whole identity for the movie, every words sounds like a perfect lie to believe.

It was a lie because it wasn't you speaking. It was your character. The complete opposite of you, someone who lacks empathy and remains calm all the time. No smile, no laughter, no jokes, no fun at all.

At some point he asks himself if it was you, who was acting. Fair enough, you're an actor and that's your job. But he supposes the acting is far too perfect, expression feeling sincere.

"My dream university accepted me."

"Oh? Congratulation!"

"It's in another country."

He can see it. The clear sadness veiled underneath your pupils as you gulped. Tears welled up slightly. The male lead pulls you into his arms, placing soft kisses against your forehead and whispering the softest dreams.

For a short moment, Bunny glanced at you again. He stared at your smile upon seeing yourself on the screen. He already knew it. You won the challenge.

Because he was captivated by your acting.

"She's dead."

"Pardon? Can you... repeat what you said? I didn't quite follow."

"She is dead."

And it all came breaking down just like the main character after hearing the news. The scenes changed a few times again until it came to an end.

Oh. It already ended.

The credits rolled down, the people stood up and walked out, the lights went on again. But he could only stare at the screen, the empty and black screen where nothing was seen.

"Bunny?" you questioned in concern, tugging his sleeve while standing up from the seat.

"I'm coming." he met your gaze with usual smile.

"How ware the movie? Are you impressed?" you giggled mischievously and made your way out.

"It's fine, but definitely doesn't deserve the hype." it was a lie but you couldn't tell anyway.

"What!?" you immediately halted in your steps and turned to him. "You're lying to tease me!"

"No, I'm serious now." he certainly sounded serious but he isn't.

"Oh." you sulked. "Does this mean good bye?"

"Good bye?" he chuckled. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know..." you were still sulking, your back facing him again and walked ahead. "I just thought we will serve ties now that the premiere is over. That's what you said..."

"[name], don't you hear yourself how silly you sound?" he followed you, trailing few steps behind you.

Right. He already forgot about that part. There is nothing else holding you together now, the only reason you kept in contact was the movie. Now that it's over, there is nothing more going pm between you.

He stared at your back. "I sound silly myself." he murmured.

And then—

"You dropped something."

You dragged yourself back to him, to the floor where you dropped something apparently, still a little sour about his comment. "Ha ha, funny joke. I won't fall for it again. Do you think I'm that stupid?" you tsked and continued your walk.

"Naw, I already had hopes." he chuckled and picked up the handkerchief you actually dropped.

Suddenly — he has to return something. The handkerchief, your handkerchief. You cannot cut ties yet, he has to give it back to you first. Not yet, not so soon. So Bunny decided to pocket it, loving how unaware you were.

"Pfft—" a chuckle, elicited by his own amusement, escaped his lips.

"Why are you laughing?" your lips formed a straight line.

"Forget it. I just remembered that I still haven't said it."

"Say what now?" the annoyed expression faltered slightly, eyes softening.

"Congratulations, [name]. I hope you will continue the great work in the future." he said which was followed by silence, "did I say something wrong? I made sure that's what people say to the actors after the movie."

You blinked. Lips curling into an eager smile again.

"Thank you, Bunny! I will make sure to not disappoint you." you skipped your way to him to intertwine your arms.

“NOW, LET’S GO!”

© 2025 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

[conelluwrites]

General Relationship HCs with Kang Dae-ho (gn!reader)

Warnings: Alcoholism, suicidal ideation, abuse, sex. Includes both in game and out of game headcanons, these are separate and not tied together! Reader is referred to as "you" throughout so anyone who enjoys him can read this. Reader is a part of Gi-hun's team, reader does not participate in the rebellion, doesn't go into hide and seek. >>Includes canon Dae-ho backstory!! I did, of course, include other fandom headcanons like him having an abusive father. I also sprinkled in some of my own hcs for him, I'm not sure if other people share these but oh well haha Other: Dae-ho, my poor baby... A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers gives me MAJOR big tiger vibes, anyone else feel that way or is it just projection? Can't remember the interview (or if it was HDH or Ha-neul that said it) but ever since reading that Dae-ho feels alive (or something to that effect) in the games my life has never been the same lol

Out of the games Dae-ho definitely wants to impress you the second you guys become friends.  Like really, genuinely impress you.  He wants to be someone you can turn to when you need strength.

Loves showing off for you, seeing the way you grin and praise him.  It’s almost enough to make his father’s constant voice in his head get drowned out.

Asks you out first, his sisters all encouraged him to go for it!  When you said yes he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.  Twirls you around in his arms for sure.  He was so certain you’d turn him down, you’d want someone stronger, someone better.

Isn’t entirely sure how to admit he was just a social service personnel.  He knows it’s generally looked down upon, he doesn’t want to disappoint you :((

Decides to do it when you guys are going on a walk together, his palm sweating as he holds your hand and mentions it offhandedly.  Your silence makes his stomach churn.  He doesn’t even look at you, doesn’t want to see the same disappointment he’s seen so many times before.  When you squeeze his hand and stop walking, standing in front of him and cupping his face with your free hand so sweetly his heart stops.  You’re not upset, you accept him.  You love him.  You love him.

He struggles slightly with alcoholism, please help him or be there for him.  Be his support.

He also struggles with suicidal ideation.  He thought getting with you would make the feelings disappear, would make the thoughts of stepping out in front of a train or drinking himself to death stop, but they don’t.  Hell, sometimes it’s harder for him!  He reaches out for reassurance when it gets really bad, but never really tells you what’s wrong.  He doesn’t want you to see him as weak or unstable.

Hates fighting with you, not in the typical way people hate fighting with their partner but in a way that makes him physically ill and hard to breathe.  He snaps at you, raising his voice and shouting.  He regrets it after he’s had time to calm down, but he doesn’t try to hold you afterwards.  He wants to run away and hide, not let you see him afterwards.  Avoidance.

He isn’t an outwardly jealous man, he trusts you.  But when it comes to other men hitting on you he feels insignificant and compares himself to the other man in every conceivable way.

He’s a sub-leaning switch.  He prefers you to take the reins.  Do not degrade him, do not hit him, do not call him daddy.  Do praise him, do kiss him and mark up his shoulders, do call him cute pet names.

Average sized cock that’s slightly more girthy than average.  He’s uncut.  He does masturbate, but his loads for you are still on the thicker, larger side of average.

Safe sex is his priority, no way are you getting his dick raw. It’s not that he doesn’t want a family with you, he just wants more time to heal and prepare beforehand.

He’s big on holding you or being held post sex, he doesn’t want you scrolling your phone afterwards, he wants to spend the time screen-free and just in peace.

Inside the games Dae-ho spins his lie easily about being an ex-marine.  It’s not done maliciously, of course, it’s self preservation.  He doesn’t see the other players as non-human, he just knows how to better increase his odds.  It’s just a bonus that you’re also on Gi-hun’s team.

Dae-ho wants to protect you, fuck does he want to.  He doesn’t feel like he’s strong enough to, not when compared to someone who was a marine like Jung-bae or as adept as Young-il.  He tries to shrug off his self doubt, but just like outside of the games, it haunts him like a ghost.

Doesn’t share his food with you lol, he’s a stress eater sorry.  He will ask you if you’re gonna finish your food or drink if you take too long to finish up.

When Gi-hun fixes up the bunks so the team is all sleeping in close quarters, he makes sure to sleep closest to you.  He says it’s because he wants to protect you if anything goes down, which isn’t a lie, but he omits the part where he wants to sleep near you because it makes him feel more at peace.

Always checks on you when it’s his turn to keep watch.

Doesn’t want you to find out the truth of his background, the idea makes him terrified.

Doesn’t want you to participate in the rebellion.  If you try to, he shoos you away to Yong-sik and Geum-ja.  He assures you that he has this, you need to stay here- stay safe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, when he comes back to the dormitory after failing to bring the dormitory back he hates the way you look at him.  You look so concerned, you’re not supposed to be concerned about him.

He’s unable to talk when you look at him, he feels like he’s being judged so harshly.  Definitely feels overwhelmed more than he already did with your presence.

Flinches away when you come over, it’s an instinct at this point.  Cowers away when you raise a hand to rub his shoulder.

Your voice is so soothing even with the concern in your voice.  He tries to talk but his voice is so stammered and shaking that he can’t get the words out.  He’s just able to breathe fast and hard and look past you.

[lexaslibrary]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ WRITING MARATHON

birds in the trap sing mcknight - T$

now playing: ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|၊•

sweet sweet [0:01-3:42]

- all the ways bf!matt tells you how much he loves you

warnings: just some sfw and nsfw headcanons! let me know if i missed something!

a/n: this is first work that includes partial smut (scareddd), english is not my first language, other than that, enjoy!

SFW

he tells you by… always wanting physical attention and affection

he tells you by… using words of affirmation as his love language

he tells you by… not being ashamed of loving you loudly and in public

he tells you by… always wanting to be with you

he tells you by… letting you be clingy even though he swears he hates when people are too close or touchy

he tells you by… writing love letters and drawing things that remember him of you

he tells you by… always looking out for you

he tells you by… holding your hand and comforting you when he know you feel overwhelmed

he tells you by… not even looking at the price when he’s buying gifts of paying dates because he knows you’re worth more than any amount

he tells you by… memorizing your favorite songs just so he can sing them (badly) to make you laugh or (in rare cases) listen to them with you

he tells you by… bragging about you to literally everyone

he tells you by… getting flustered when you compliment him but never shutting up when it’s his turn to praise you

he tells you by… saving every little thing you give him, from silly notes to big gifts

he tells you by… staying up late just to hear about your day, even if he’s exhausted

NSFW

he tells you by… choosing to hold your hand even when the way he’s thrusting into you seems nothing like loving

he tells you by… worshipping you

he tells you by…taking his time with you (even though he’s not one to pass up a quickie)

he tells you by… not being embarrassed of being a switch when he’s needy enough

he tells you by… telling you how good you’re doing and how amazing you feel

he tells you by… making you look at yourself in the mirror while he hits and whispering things like “see how pretty you look while taking this dick?”

he tells you by… making love to you, of course

he tells you by… kissing and touching every inch of you he can reach

he tells you by… looking into your eyes when he sinks into you

he tells you by… always preferring positions when he can see the most of you, especially your face

he tells you by… never skipping aftercare

he tells you by… stopping immediately if he sees even one little sign you’re not enjoying it

he tells you by… whispering sweet nothings into your ear

he tells you by… prioritizing your pleasure over his

a/n: kinda nervous tbh (new theme btw!!)

back to the general masterlist / writing marathon masterlist

taglist: @bernardsbendystraws @mattssunnies @sturnzstuff @soffishifting @strnlslvr @riaasblogg @courta13

[thesharktanksdriver]

Shark the bugs are speaking again.

Also welcome back I hope you're having a fantastic day.

And yes bugs, plural because there are 2 of them at the moment. And they wish to be shared so don't mind me dropping both of these on you.

(Also you can choose who the love interests are, the freedom is all yours)

Drunk HP who is blasted out their mind and can't differentiate a coffee mug from a grenade and is sitting on the couch next to one of the love interests, who HP cannot recognise because again they're blasted drunk. And suddenly, HP let their head fall on the lap of the love interest. Still not knowing it's them. And just mumble out a confession to the person that they like it when said love interest calls them Honeypie. That they like the nickname more than their actual name and makes HP feel all fuzzy and warm. And swears the person (who they still don't recognize as the love interest) to secrecy because that would be wholly embarrassing and they don't want the love interest to know.

Or alternative scenario is HP is in full mother hen mode with Patty after she came to them because she had a nightmare. So HP is left, singing lullabies or softer songs that they've heard on the jukebox in the office and are singing them to Patty. Rocking her back and forth in their arms until Patty falls asleep again. And are absolutely oblivious to one of or multiple love interests have seen them singing. Because HP was too focused on Patty.

The bugs needed to be cleaned out of my brains, sorry if this is too long. I'll be seeing you whenever you wish to post again.

With love,

Bug brained anon ♡♡♡

Ahh!!! Thank you for the great ask again big brain anon! Sorry i took so long to respond

God I think the first scenario would be especially meaningful to Dante since he was the one to come up with the nickname. I think he sometimes legitimately worries that Honeypie hates the nickname he made for them and is a little secretly concerned about it so hearing confirmation that they don’t actually hate it is really moving for him. Even if they don’t recognize that it’s him that they’re confessing this to he can’t help but melt at it all and promise to keep it a secret when they make him swear to secrecy.

It gets worse if they mention how the nickname makes they feel all warm and giddy. Internally he implodes especially since it gives him hope that it might be an indication of them having potential romantic feelings.

As they mumble drunken words into his stomach Dante weaves his fingers into their hair. Running his hands through the silky strands whilst telling them that they’re the sweetest Honeypie known to man. A bit cheesy, he knows, but in that moment it’s true. Even moreso when HP smiles at him after that.

Oh good god HP and Patty are so damn cute. Before learning about her mom still being alive patty relied on HP a lot during the anime, especially when dealing with the lingering nightmares of demons. Knowing demons were (and still are) attempting to kill her is a lot for anyone to handle let alone a little girl. For as strong as patty is she’s still a kid and Honeypie knows that internally she can’t be doing as well as she is externally.

Which HP is definitely right about.

I like to think the first time patty has a nightmare HP is the one to find her. Maybe it’s while she was staying at DMC and HP was working a bit later or when patty was staying at Honeypies apartment. While crying Honeypie heard her and immediately went to go comfort her without a second thought. They do what their parents never did for them, Honeypie holds patty close letting her cry into their shoulder and promises her they’ll do everything they can to protect her. They can’t promise nothing bad won’t happen because the world isn’t sunshine and rainbows but they’d be damned to not do anything to stop it.

After that patty when getting nightmares shows up and goes to Honeypie. At first I think patty would feel guilty about it since HP works so hard and deserves all the rest they can get but it quickly fades when Honeypie immediately wakes up and pulls patty close each and every time. Like you said I think they’d definitely sometimes sing to help patty, it would be stuff like the choir beginning of devils never cry plus the chorus and slower songs like dreams from Fleetwood Mac or army dreamers from Kate blush (maybe even send me an angel from real life?). After hearing them sing to calm her down I think patty would intentionally try and have Honeypie sing more often at dmc which works out for literally everyone.

Getting them to sing wasn’t something Dante nor lady or Trish could do often but patty unlike the three of them is a cute kid. So Honeypie folds like paper when it comes to patty and sings whenever patty asks under the excuse of teaching her the songs since she likes them.

Patty will hold this over Dante tho lol. Bud can’t win after he was being a moody ass to her in episode 1.

[pinkbrries]

𝐈-𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃: THROUGH JUNE’S EYES

EPISODE 1

back to the masterlist | next episode

➞ words in between hyphens (—) are the subtitles appearing on the screen.

➞ this will be divided between what is happening through the episode (headcanon and normal narration), june talking to other trainees, interventions from the judges(?) and interview parts // words in bold are in english, words in italic are in japanese

➞ there will be drabbles and behind the scene content for this episode !!

↳ tw: some mentions of anxiety, buts that’s it:)

note: the other girls appearing as trainees are also fictional!! so they’re four girls in total (nabi, jae, jiho and (ofc) june)

nini says💬: decided to post this one because i have small scenarios that come from this post too so… enjoy?? lol

taglist: @nevyxx | find june’s masterlist here.

“Are you sure this is the way, unnie?”

Jiho scoffs, squeezing June’s arms while they start walking down the rock path. “How would I know? This is my first time coming too.”

June rolls her eyes, looking around, “I mean, yeah but— Ouch! Unnie! Stop grabbing my arm like that!”

Jiho holds into June tighter, making the younger pout. “I’m not even sorry, you know how nervous I get with stuff like this, June.”

“Pff… Whatever,” the younger mutters in feign annoyance, pushing her older friend’s hand away from her poor arm and instead linking their arms together.

When they told June that the survival she was going to be joining was in the middle of nowhere, she really didn’t think it’d be literal. This whole forest thing gave her “hunger games” vibes, and even if she knew that her brain was joking, she also knew that nothing was impossible when it came to mnet and their shows.

[zico: oh! two more girls?]

[bang sihyuk: yes, we added four girls]

[rain: to form a group just like seventeen, txt, right? *bang sihyuk nods* interesting]

“Why are there so many steps?” Jiho takes June out of her thoughts, making her laugh because she kicked a rock but it almost made her fall. “I hate it here.”

“Not surprised.”

Both girls keep walking in silence, until they see a weird construction in the middle of the big green area, and June (being June) pulls Jiho with her, making the slightly shorter girl almost trip (again.)

June gasps in excitement, “unnie! Look at this!” June starts jumping in excitement, making Jiho giggle. “This looks straight out of a marvel movie!” June turns to face Jiho, a big smile on her face, “are we the avengers now?”

their faces finally get focused and you can hear zico and rain going *dramatic gasp*

“Well, if we’re the avengers now? I call dibs on Ironman, let me get the bag,” the older says, walking beside June and getting closer to the immense door. June pouts.

“You get the bag, but you also die.”

“Looks like my luck it’s finally getting better then,” the girl adds in a sarcastic tone, making June cackle.

[zico: is that jiho from produce 48? *bang sihyuk nods* i almost didn’t recognize her!]

[bang sihyuk: jiho has been training for a year and a half with us now, she’s a really good singer and can compose her own songs too]

[rain: and that’s june from mixnine right?]

[zico: part of the final lineup *rain hums* she was very popular, everyone would talk about her because she was an independent trainee]

[bang sihyuk: june is our hidden ace, a very talented girl. i know people it’s going to be happy to see her again]

the little box of information pops out beside the girl’s faces

KIM JIHO (22) - korea/us | training: 1 year and a half | etc: played in the youth orchestra for three consecutive years.

JUNE (20) - korea/england | training: 2 years and a half | etc: did fencing professionally for 6 years.

Standing in front of the door, June looks around to see if someone is there or if there was a button they had to press… But there was nothing.

Wow, too much for a weird building in the middle of nowhere that probably cost millions of dollars.

Huffing, June and Jiho share a look, maybe their manager drove them to the wrong place?

“Unnie,” June beams at the girl, shaking her arms towards the door, “say the magic words!”

Jiho bites back a laugh. “You know I haven’t seen Harry Potter ever in my life, dude.”

“I meant ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, you uncultured girl!” June crosses her arms in front of her chest, “didn’t you watch barney when you were a little girl?”

Before Jiho has the opportunity to reply to that, a loud sound startle the both of them, making the girls jump in unison and hold hands in case they had to make a run for their lives. (They’re okay, it was just the door opening)

“Ohh,” June raises both eyebrows, pulling Jiho with her so they can get in, “see? ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are always the way in for every place you go, Kim Jiho.”

Jiho laughs. “Shut up, June.”

they finally arrive and again, just like zico and rain, you can hear the *dramatic gasps* from the other boys and the two girls there

this was literally the “i almost debuted” sub unit, experienced in survival shows. i’d be surprised too ngl

june goes :0 when she sees that ?? there’s a lot of boys here ?? and only,,, four girls

“did they tell you there were going to be more boys than girls?” june asks in a whisper and jiho just denies with her head

[sunoo: omg, i can’t believe they’re here]

[jaebeom: they’re prettier in real life]

[jay: they have more experience, so i’m looking forward their performance]

[jimin: their aura was definitely something else]

pls the /charismatic/ aura june exudes is gone after two seconds because she jumps all startled when the platform moves, making everyone go “she cute omg”

june wearing the biggest smile like

watch some of them simping already for her😌 the power she has

“Yo, Minjun,” June feels some nudging on her ribs, so she looks at where Jiho was pointing at with her head, making June let out a small gasp, “what? what’s wrong?”

“I know them!”

Jiho scoffs, “why am I not surprised?– No, wait, June!”

June doesn’t even listen to her older friend, instead, she drags her along to the other girls sitting there, a dark haired girl immediately standing up and running towards June to hug her.

After the brief introductions (that in Jiho’s words: “this was the longest greeting I’ve ever experienced in my life, Lee Minjun,” making June laugh and be like “okay I get it, you’re the biggest introvert I’ve ever met.”) the both girls finally walk away, Jiho lowkey smiling when June is still waving and bowing at everyone there.

Even if Jiho would never say it out loud, she really loved June and her cute, friendly antics.

She was such a nice person.

okay so june finds available spots next to a boy with a blue shirt and she walks there and goes !!!! HI HELLO NICE TO MEET YOU !!! can we sit here? and he just goes like /nervous laugh/ sure

ofc june and jiho feel all the staring but they’re too busy looking around to actually care jdlajsk

“you know, kim jiho, you could actually try to not have the ‘i hate it here’ face and make some friends”, jiho snorts at hearing that

“i have you for that; you’re the one making friends, i’m the one that follows you around. that’s how our friendship works”

june just laughs at that comment

Playing with the ring on her left hand, June keeps looking around the place in amusement, her stare staying focused on the bright red numbers displayed at one side of the space.

“13”

What did it mean? Would the other boys here know?

She turns her head to the left to ask, but instead, her lips curve into a smile again when her gaze meets with a pair of brown doe eyes attentively watching her.

“hi! i’m lee minjun, but you can call me june, nice to meet you!”, “i’m lee heeseung, nice to meet you too,” the boy pauses and then he goes “i, uhm, actually watched you on mixnine. so i’m really looking forward your performance”

june is so touched:’) and she’s like !!! omg thank you !!! i know everyone else here is talented so i’m looking forward to see you too !!

and pls😭 the “fear” the others had is gone because after that some more boys go “i was looking forward meeting someone like you, i watched you on mixnine” or “you’re really something else” introducing themselves and stuff

june is about to continue the conversation when /the light is gone/ and some red lights start blinking. june just thinks this is it, this is their end. they’re gonna get ‘k’ word JZKSJS😭

but happily for her and sadly for jiho, it’s just an introduction to the i-land system

— dear 27 applicants, welcome. this is the stage of iland, and this will be the place for you to prove your skills. past the gate, you’ll see the unknown place called i-land that only existed in our imaginations —

june can’t help but gasp all the time, she’s really so amazed like :00 how much money did they invest on this place dude

— however, not all 27 of you may enter. the capacity of i-land is only 13 people. —

june can hear jiho mutter ‘i knew this was too good to be true’ and she feels something inside her churn in anxiety

[june: i almost forgot this was a survival, either you fight for a place, or you stay out of the competition]

— the power to decide those 13 people is up to you and every destiny in i-land is upon your hands as well. now, we’re going to start the entry test with the performances you’ve prepared

jiho and june just look at each other, trying to decipher what the hell what’s going to happen … should they go first? should they decide to perform right in the middle? or just stand up last?

jiho knows june better, so even if her facade is a confident one, her eyes betray her; they’re full of hesitance, so she stretches a hand out at her so she can hold it

“junnie, we’ll go whenever you feel ready, okay?” and june just nods, squeezing her hand harder

— the entry test will be assessed by yourselves. only those with the majority of votes can go into the i-land. if there are more or less than 13 people after the test, there will be another test. —

— it’s a unit performance, but the votes will be done for each individual. the order of performance is up to you —

[june: i know everyone’s standards are high, so if i want to be in, i have to do my best on stage]

— the first participant, please move to the stage —

jiho looks at june expectantly, and when june denies with her head, she knows that her friend isn’t ready (tbh? no one was ready, not even the ‘experience’ their past survivals gave them. joining a new one was always a challenge)

[june: we’re 27 and there’s only 13 spots available. i have to watch everyone carefully, i’m not voting for everyone that stands on that stage, i have my own standards]

then, the first performance happens and… omg she’s like 😀😀 the entire time ‘lullaby’ is played and performed. jiho has the same expression too

LIKE. THE SAME EXPRESSION SUNOO HAD??? june was literally mirroring him 😭

pls june already sees the storm coming, people probably saying she’s too full of herself, but c’mon, everyone with a pair of eyes knows when a performance is good and when /it’s not/

if there’s something jiho and june share is: not giving in to peer pressure, so when they see everyone voting for seon because they feel pressured?? she’s like ??? bestie what are YOU doing??? where are your standards??? WHAT ABOUR YOUR TRAINING??? june might be excited over everything, but she knows where she stands when it comes to judging someone else based on their performances and skills🤝

[rain: oh, the only two that didn’t vote for the first contestant were jiho and june?]

[zico: they didn’t give in in what everyone else did… good]

june can’t help but laugh when she sees everyone almost running into each other to perform on stage after that😭 she like naaah not me, i can definitely wait

and just after, june gasps in a very excited manner when she hears the 7th sense, she’s the BIGGEST nctzen okay😭 she knows nct’s songs aren’t easy to cover so she’s like YOOOOO THIS IS GONNA BE GOOOOD

and it was good like ?? HELLO??? jayhoon’s the 7th sense’s performance is top tier 🥇

“now *this* is the kind of performance i’m expecting from everyone,” june mutters to jiho, the older one nodding. “true, they really killed it with this song”

watch june scream like WOOO when jay and hoon’s performance ends hdkaja, and ofc, she’s the first one to raise her hand to vote for the two of them😌

no because again, the sm stan in june jumps out again when she hears jopping like !! BESTIE THAT’S A BOP LETS GOOO !! she’s just rapping, dancing and singing along

she went ❗️❗️when she saw niki doing the dance break like ??? HELLO??? ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE 16??

“omg unnie! he’s so talented! they’re so good!”

watch her hype them up and go “LETS GOOOOO!” after they end their performance, making jiho and some other boys laugh😭

june votes for niki, and feels weird when hanbin gets dropped… what if.. that happens to her too?

“yah lee minjun, i know what you’re thinking, so stop that right now,” june pouts and jiho rolls her eyes, side hugging her.

when june sees heeseung standing up, she goes “fighting!!” and he smiles at her as a way to thank her

[june: i was really anticipating heeseung’s performance the most. i heard some of the trainees saying he was legendary, so i’m really excited to see him perform]

no need to say that june went OHHH when she heard boss😭 she was like NOOOO THERE’S NO WAY HE’S NOT GETTING IN?????

“LET’S GO LEE HEESEUNG!”, “june, stop screaming–“, “BUT DID YOU SEE HIM???

to say she was amazed, mesmerized, etc etc would be an understatement. she hyped him up so much pls, and ofc, she was one of the first persons to raise her hand to vote for him

“you looked so cool!!”, heeseung sits and smiles shyly at the excited girl. “ah, thank you so much,” and june claps in tiny😭 “i know why you get called the ace! you’re amazing!”

after that, she just votes for daniel because 🥺🥺 daniel

— I-LAND CAPACITY: 13. REMAINING SPOTS: 3 —

june wasn’t sure if she wanted to go next, but when the ‘3’ glares at her, there’s no hesitation in her body when she stands up and drags jiho along with her

“fighting!” heeseung is the one telling her now, jay and sunghoon also cheering for her. she gives them a small smile and starts walking away with her unit member

“june? isn’t this too abrupt?”, “i’m never going to be ready unnie, so let’s just get this over.”

[rain: oh? they’re going now!]

[zico: i’m really anticipating their performance]

jiho introduces herself first, and bang pd gives a brief introduction of the girl.

when it comes to june, she smiles brightly and bows, making some boys go like “cute🥺🥺”

[zico: she’s so cute]

[rain: june has really a very strong aura]

[bang sihyuk: when she first arrived, she was already good. so imagine how much she has improved]

“hello, i’m june! i’m 20 years old, i love dancing and singing, i used to practice fencing and even participated in both national and international competitions. please watch us well!”

[geonu: i’m looking forward their performances, specially from june since she was part of a debut lineup]

[heeseung: i think everyone was really looking forward to see june’s performance]

[jimin: there’s no way june isn’t getting in]

june gives a last glance to jiho, they nod at each other and the lights turn off.

everyone goes OHHH when baby don’t stop starts playing, jiho singing ten’s part while june was in charge of taeyong’s part

[daniel: look at june’s noona expressions!]

[sunghoon: she’s really good]

june looked so happy performing, her facial expressions and the energy. wouldn’t expect less from the ace herself😌

[rain: there’s something about june that makes her stand out from everyone else *zico nods*]

[zico: she has the facial expression of an already debuted idol, the energy she has is amazing]

[bang sihyuk: i told you she was something else]

the cheering was so loud, and jiho also couldn’t help but smile and side hug june. standing side to side, it’s when the voting finally starts. jiho gets in and june claps for her, she was so happy her friend was in.

— if you think participant june deserves to enter i-land, please raise your hands —

gulping down the anxiety bubbling in her chest, she just lowers her head and waits for the worst.

— participant lee minjun gets into i-land (24 votes) —

she gasps and bows a lot of times, holding jiho’s hand while she goes and sits again on their seats.

“we got in, junnie!” jiho exclaims and june exhales loudly, “i was about to throw up-“, “omg june thanks god you didn’t,” jiho starts laughing, making june laugh in the process too.

“hey, your performance was really good!” the boy beside her says, making her beam at him, “thank you heeseung!”

after that, the air gets more tense. there was only 1 spot remaining… and she remains on judging the others like she did with the past auditions

from the other unit of girls, only one of them got in.

june only voted for jungwon, jake and sunoo after her performance

“june noona?” she hears someone calling for her, turning she sees jake smiling, “thank you for voting for us, for real-“, “no, no need to thank me! you all did amazing, it was only fair!” she nods, giving him a thumbs up

she was happy they made it, but there was a more concerning topic clouding her mind

[june: -6… but what will happen? i’ve never felt this worried before in my life, do i have to compete again?]

— the entrance exam for i-land is over. those who have passed may enter the gate and proceed to i-land —

june goes all excited when she sees a door opening, but she can hear jiho muttering “this can’t be real, something bad is about to happen”

well,,,,, you might say: jiho was right, but june was too excited and positive to actually see it that way ASHDKSJD

taking her belongings and grabbing jiho’s hand, she stands up and goes towards nabi (who didn’t pass), holding jae’s hand so she wouldn’t walk alone

“please take care of her, junnie,” nabi says and june nods. “of course! i will watch jae unnie for you”

they laugh, jae intertwining her arm now with the youngest and walking all together to the i-land entrance

again, june giving the best reactions 😭 she was one of the first ones to go out and drag her two friends so they could explore the /expensive/ place they were seeing

[june: for real, i wanna know how much money got invested into this! (staff laughing in the background) i know you all are curious too!]

yeah, everything looked nice, but as jiho said: something bad was about to happen, so when that voice said “this is an accommodation for 13 people”, everyone knew things were about to go down

— so only 13 people can enjoy everything in i-land. starting now, in order to match the capacity of i-land, we will execute the next stage. —

— if you are not one of the 13 people, you will be released to the ground, the space of dropouts —

“the… ground?” jae asks, making jiho and june shrug at the same time. june wasn’t very sure of what was that, the only thing she knew was that it sounded really scary

“let’s try to stay together, okay?” jiho mutters to june, making her nod. june was starting to get anxious, another stage? the ground? everything was happening so quickly

— you will conduct another voting to decide on the six members to be eliminated. the elimination voting will proceed in 2 hours —

june scoffs, “just when i thought being on a survival where people votes for you was worse,” jiho hugs her, “whatever that happens, you have to debut junnie”

june frowns, “hey! wait! we have to debut together!” she pouts, hugging her.

“pinky promise, unnie?“ “yeah… pinky promise, minjun”

[ceramini]

✦ DAMN! YOU’RE SUCH A LOSER HEESEUNG

pairing 𐐪𐑂 heeseung (hes a loser) × hot!reader

word count 𐐪𐑂 approximately 0.9k words, 28 hcs

genre 𐐪𐑂 smut, fluff, crack, mdni 18+

synopsis ───── lee heeseung is the smartest dumbass you’ve ever met. hes annoyingly hot, painfully sincere, and completely deranged in his devotion to you. he sucks at sex, hyperfixates on nonsense, and has no idea how he pulled you, but he’ll do absolutely anything to keep you. hes pathetic, but he’s yours. <3

nini’s note 🗒️ this one’s been a long time coming. you asked. you screamed. you demanded I deliver loser!heeseung in his full dumbass glory, and I have. this is the boy who begs you to watch his favorite anime with him but doesn’t know how to ask properly. who thinks buying you snacks is a love language. who shuts down during sex because he’s so overwhelmed by how pretty you are. I adore him. I hate him. enjoy responsibly, likes & reblogs are very much appreciated <33 + lmk if u want the fics 💕

𓋜 if want to read something else, check out the ꕀ LIBRARY

DUMB IN BED BUT HES TRYING

loser!heeseung who has no clue what he’s doing in bed but insists he “knows what women like” because he read half a Reddit thread in 2017. He gets cocky real fast, but the moment you start undressing, he forgets what breathing is.

loser!heeseung who talks a big game, but the second you start touching him seriously, he stutters so hard he ends up apologizing mid-makeout. “Wait, s-sorry, I just—can we go slower? Or faster? I don’t know.”

loser!heeseung who gets hard embarrassingly fast. Like, one kiss to the neck and he’s already pitching a tent in those gross sweatpants he wears every day. He covers himself with a pillow, but it’s so obvious.

loser!heeseung who literally googled “how to eat a girl out” and made a whole annotated doc with bookmarks. He reads it in bed the night before seeing you and is so stressed about “messing it up” that he forgets to actually use his tongue at first.

loser!heeseung who goes down on you with his whole soul once he gets over the nerves. Like messy, shaky hands on your thighs, moaning while he figures out what makes you gasp. He takes it personally if you don’t come.

loser!heeseung who says the most pathetic shit during sex. Things like “you feel so good I think I’m gonna pass out” and “wait—wait are you close? Oh my god, are you gonna—oh my god.”

loser!heeseung who starts with missionary because he thinks it’s “safe,” but accidentally gets way too into it. His hair falls into his eyes, he’s biting his lip, moaning helplessly, and now you’re the one losing it.

loser!heeseung who cums quick but apologizes for hours. Texts you at 2AM like “i swear i can last longer next time 😞 please don’t think i’m lame.” You end up having to reassure him while he spirals.

loser!heeseung who needs to be coached into talking dirty. The best he manages at first is “you’re so hot i could die,” and then he panics and asks if that sounded weird.

loser!heeseung who gets hard again after you cuddle for five minutes. Pretends it’s not happening. Fails.

SOFT WHERE IT COUNTS

loser!heeseung who hyperfixates on a new anime or game and talks about it for days. You nod along lovingly while he info-dumps about lore you don’t understand, because he gets so animated when he’s excited.

loser!heeseung who has a rotating cast of dumb hyperfixation objects: currently obsessed with modding your shared Minecraft world, was deep into urban planning videos last month, and once spent 3 weeks only talking about frogs.

loser!heeseung who makes you playlists with weirdly specific titles like “songs that sound like you in the rain” or “if we were NPCs in a JRPG and i was in love with you but couldn’t say it.”

loser!heeseung who leans his head on your shoulder when he’s tired at his desk. Doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until you turn and kiss his cheek, and then he melts completely.

loser!heeseung who makes you ramen at 2AM and gets all shy when you compliment it. “It’s just instant, I didn’t really do anything,” but secretly smiles the whole time you eat it.

loser!heeseung who texts you “are you home safe?” the second you leave. Follows up with “ok gn 😴” and then continues sending you TikToks until 4AM.

loser!heeseung who gets weirdly quiet when he likes you too much. His confidence completely evaporates. He just goes all soft-eyed and fidgety like “um… do you want to stay over? like—only if you want to.”

loser!heeseung who makes you sit on his lap while he games but doesn’t focus on the screen at all. He keeps dying in-game because he’s too busy sneaking kisses to your jaw and whispering, “i’m gonna lose because of you.”

loser!heeseung who writes you little notes and tucks them into your things. They say stupid shit like “u looked hot today 🔥” or “don’t forget to drink water or I’ll cry.”

loser!heeseung who kisses you so sweetly it makes you forget how dumb he is. His lips are soft, he holds your face gently, and the second you pull away he mumbles, “I like you so much it’s actually insane.”

HIS BRAIN IS EMPTY, BUT HIS HEART IS FULL

loser!heeseung who is insanely good at rhythm games but can’t drive. Has 100% accuracy on Osu! but has never parallel parked in his life.

loser!heeseung who drinks monster energy at 9PM and then complains when he can’t sleep. Lies awake in bed like “why am I like this.”

loser!heeseung who doesn’t know how to fold laundry. Just leaves clothes in a chair and lives out of the pile. But your stuff? Folded like it’s sacred.

loser!heeseung who wears the same hoodie for 8 days in a row until you threaten to take it home and wash it yourself. (You do. It comes back smelling like you. He doesn’t take it off again.)

loser!heeseung who gets so intense about his hobbies that he forgets to eat. You have to literally put a snack in his hand like “chew this or I’ll break your computer.”

loser!heeseung who remembers everything you say even if he seems like he’s not listening. Mentions it randomly weeks later like, “didn’t you say your favorite flowers were tulips?” and you’re like HOW DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER THAT.

loser!heeseung who blushes when you compliment him. Full-on red ears, shy little laugh, won’t look at you for five minutes.

loser!heeseung who is so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He just stares at you sometimes like you’re something unreal. “I don’t get how you like me,” he whispers. “But I’m so glad you do.”

TAGLIST ───── @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto @jinxedly @seokjinthescientist <3 you can join my taglist through this doc! —> here

[kissbabie]

fucking bodyguard!nagi ♡

your first time with bodyguard!nagi was unexpected. hired by your rich, overprotective father, nagi was supposed to keep you safe. but instead of some sharp, stoic guard, you got a lazy, game addicted whiner who treated his job like a chore. you thought he was annoying, he thought you were a hassle. still, after a few close calls where he actually did protect you, it was only natural for you two to get closer. and though you hated to admit it, he was attractive. plus, he thought you were undeniably pretty too, even if you were a bit of a spoiled brat.

it was a stormy night when you peeked into his bedroom, tank top clinging to your chest, shorts barely covering anything. he was shirtless on the bed in sweats, messy hair, and lazy gaze lifting as you whisper, “sei… can i stay with you tonight?”

“huh? ‘s late..” he mumbled, although that doesn’t stop you from shuffling in and curling up next to him on the bed, causing him to wrap his arm around you. he sighs, closing his eyes.

“you’re warm,” you whisper. he hums in response, “told you ‘m good at protecting you.”

after a while, you try to sleep, but your thoughts won’t settle. his scent is everywhere, his hand on your back is so gentle, and his chest is firm under your cheek. before you know it, you’re climbing on top of him.

“wha—hey,” he mumbles, eyes opening again to find you straddling his waist. “what’re you doing?”

you whimper in response, grinding slowly over the hardness that’s already starting to form beneath his sweats. even through the fabric, you can still feel how big he is. nagi groans, instinctively reaching out to grab your hips.

it’s not long before his sweats are shoved down, your shorts and panties pushed aside, and you’re sinking down on his cock that’s stretching you out so good your mouth goes slack.

“fuck, feels good.” nagi groans, head falling back against the pillow. his hands rest lazily on your hips as he lets you ride him slow and sloppy, your thighs shaking with every bounce.

“mmh, seishiro… you’re so big,” you whimper as your hips rolled down again, the wet squelch between you two growing louder. you were dripping, pussy clenching around him so tight; his thick cock twitching deep inside you.

it kept hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and you’re sobbing as you cry out, “fuck— gonna cum!”

“already?” he huffed, “that’s alright, jus’ let go, angel.”

you cum on his cock with a loud, desperate whine, riding out your orgasm as he continues thrusting a little into you. you’re twitching and squirming so much, nagi grips onto your hips tighter to stop your movements.

"stop squirming," he mutters, breath hitching. "such a hassle when you move so much—'m trying to cum in you."

a/n: i thinkkkk im gonna make this into an au

© 𝒌issbabie | don't copy, steal, or translate any of my work

[celabi]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎

sae + kaiser + shidou + ness + rin + isagi + nagi + reo x f reader

sae makes the bed before he leaves.

he wakes up early. before the sun, before the world stirs, before even the first of his four alarms has the chance to buzz. he’s built like that, disciplined with every second accounted for. training waits for no one, and sae itoshi doesn’t wait either.

he moves quietly in the mornings, all silent footsteps and half lidded yawns, the kind of stillness that comes from years of knowing exactly what needs to be done. his body remembers before his mind even catches up, coffee, stretches, get dressed.

but you, of course, are the exception to every one of his carefully constructed habits. the small detour in his list.

you’re still sprawled across the bed like a starfish, half wrapped in the duvet, cheek squished into his pillow with your mouth slightly open. your hair’s a mess, your legs are a messier tangle of limbs, and you’re wearing one of his hoodies that he brought three sizes too big.

you look ridiculous. soft and adorable, and sae hates how much it makes his heart ache.

he lets you sleep. he always lets you sleep.

but he also makes the bed every morning. no excuses. no matter what. even with you in it.

“move,” he murmurs, already tugging on one corner of the blanket, patting your hip with a touch that’s way gentler than his tone. “lift up.”

you groan, something inhuman and definitely not a real word. he sighs like this happens every morning. because it does.

“you’re drooling on my pillow. again.”

your hand flops up to smear half across your mouth, shielding your shame while you roll sluggishly to the side. sae takes the opportunity, quickly so you can resume your sleep, to fluff the pillow, tug the sheets flat, and fold a corner of the comforter neatly under your waist like a hotel staffer who somehow fell into domestic life.

“turn this way,” he mutters, nudging your shoulder. “no, the other way. blanket’s uneven.”

he’s all low grumbles and soft touches, moving you around like you’re made of glass. a frown tugs at his lips the whole time, but his hands are gentle, straightening and smoothing over the fabric like it matters more than it should.

when you’re finally cocooned the way he likes, snug, somewhat symmetrical, warm, he leans in and presses a quiet kiss to your temple. “sleep. i’ll be back before lunch.”

your voice is barely a whisper, slurred with sleep, muffled by the pillow. “bring food.”

he scoffs under his breath. “as long as you don’t get crumbs in my bed.”

you always do.

and he always brings your favorite snack anyway.

kaiser brings flowers for the whole family.

it started the first time he came over.

michael kaiser, self proclaimed egoist, golden boy of the field, the kind of guy who walked like the world owed him something and smiled like he already had it all, showed up at your front door with three bouquets in hand.

not one. not two. three.

he stood there like it was the most casual thing ever, shoulder leaned against the frame, grin a little too cocky, hair perfectly messy like he’d spent forever making it look like he didn’t try.

the first bouquet was for you, obviously. he handed it over with a dramatic little bow and a wink, the arrangement bold and romantic, soft pink peonies nestled between full, velvety red roses, tied together with a satin ribbon. classic. a little flashy, sure, but unmistakably him. he watched your expression like it was a match he was trying to win, waiting for your eyes to light up. and they did.

but then he straightened up and pulled out the second bouquet. a softer one, lavender, baby’s breath, white tulips. no over the top color this time, and handed it, with an almost sheepish smirk, to your mom.

“figured it’d be rude to only bring flowers for the prettiest girl here,” he said smoothly, voice dipped in charm. “so i brought some for the queen, too.”

your mom had blinked, surprised, and then laughed, soft and flustered while taking them from him and running off to find a vase.

and the third? that one was the smallest. the wrapping paper was cartoon themed, covered in stars and hearts. inside was tiny pops of bright color, mini sunflowers, marigolds, something dyed blue that probably wasn’t natural but was meant to be fun.

he crouched in front of your little sister to hand it to her directly, grinning that crooked, boyish grin that made him look five years younger.

“for the cutest princess i’ve ever seen.” he told her like it was a secret just for her. and when she covered her face and squealed, he only laughed and ruffled her hair, gentle and playful.

after that, it became routine.

evey time he came over, three beautiful bouquets.

he never made a show of it. didn’t brag, didn’t explain. he just slipped inside like he belonged there, bouquets in one hand, the other reaching for yours, eyes glinting with that same effortless confidence. like it was normal to charm your entire household on the way to your heart.

you’d tease him sometimes, grinning as you passed him in the hallway, whispering under your breath, “trying to win the whole family, michael?”

and he’d kiss your forehead, hands curling around your waist as he leaned in close enough that only you could hear him say,

“i already won yours. just making sure the rest of the kingdom approves.”

shidou paints your nails.

well, he demands to paint your nails. bursts into your room with a giant tote bag slung over his shoulder, overflowing with nail polish bottles, rhinestones in tiny plastic cases, glitter, mini uv lamps, and like, five different top coats he doesn’t even need. he’s grinning like he just looted a beauty supply store and got away with it. like you’re his first client of the day and he’s booked out until next year.

“sit,” he commands, plopping onto the floor and patting his lap like it’s your throne. “it’s nail day, baby.”

you eye him warily, climbing down off the bed anyway. it’s shidou, after all, loud, explosive, a walking red flag with more red cards than you can count. chaos is in his blood. if anyone was going to spill nail polish on the carpet or glue rhinestones to your elbow by accident, it’d be him.

but the second you settle in his lap, legs across his, hands offered out in front of you like an offering, he changes.

his voice quiets. his grin softens.

he picks out a color, sometimes asking, sometimes deciding for you, and his brows pull together in focus as he opens the bottle. he holds your fingers delicately, like they’re something fragile, his thumb resting beneath yours while his other hand starts to paint.

and he’s good. surprisingly good. sure, his hands still twitch sometimes, years of high speed tackles and clenched fists leaving their mark, but his grip is steady when it counts. the polish goes on smooth, not a single smudge. and when you move, even just a little, maybe to breathe, maybe to say something, he immediately clicks his tongue.

“stop moving,” he mumbles, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. “i’m trying to make you pretty.”

you lift a brow at him. “i’m already pretty.”

he snorts, but doesn’t look up. “duh. i’m just making you even more pretty.”

every time, he makes sure your nails match his, down to the last detail.

once it was matte black with silver tips. another time, pastel pink with little hearts he painstakingly dotted on with a toothpick. one week it was neon green flames and he called it your “power couple arc,” posing dramatically in front of your mirror like the two of you were about to drop a mixtape.

when he finishes, he always holds your hands up like they’re sacred. like he’s unveiling a work of art. his art.

“damn, we look good,” he says, eyes shining as he admires your matching sets. “wanna go push people over at the skating rink?”

you laugh. because how could you not?

and then he kisses your fingers, soft, almost gently, like the same mouth hasn’t yelled at a ref for twenty minutes or talked shit to half his team.

because yeah, shidou is a menace. reckless and violent and so unpredictable.

but when it’s just you and him, tangled up on the floor with glitter all over his sweatpants and your nails drying in the lamplight, he’s just a boy who likes painting your nails.

ness is always touching you.

dating him means you’re never really alone. not even for a second.

he doesn’t like space. not when it comes to you. even in silence, even when there’s no conversation to fill the gaps, his hands always find their way back to you, like they’re on autopilot, like his body’s forgotten how to exist without yours tethered to it.

you could be lying on the couch, half asleep, curled up on his chest while something plays on the tv that neither of you are really watching. the light flickers, scenes change, but his attention isn’t on the screen. it’s on the way your breathing evens out, the soft weight of your body against his, the warmth that seeps into his skin just from having you close.

and without hesitation, without even thinking, his hand slips beneath your shirt, not for anything suggestive. no teasing, no games. just to feel you. to trace slow, sleepy little circles against your spine with the pads of his fingers, like memorizing the shape of you helps him stay sane.

he always hums when he does it, something low and almost tuneless, head resting against yours, his eyes falling shut like he could fall asleep right then and there. because in that moment, you’re his. his anchor. his whole world slowed down into something soft and manageable.

out in public, he’s no different.

you’re standing in the middle of the freezer aisle at the store, trying to compare the price of two different brands of fish fingers, and ness is behind you, pressed flush against your back like he belongs there. both arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and then, as if that’s not close enough, he slides his hands into the pockets of your coat, lacing his fingers with yours even through the fabric.

“it’s cold…” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear, breath warm against your skin. but you know better. he’s not cold. he just missed touching you. he always does.

you barely flinch. you don’t even look up. because this? this is just ness being ness.

he gets twitchy when he can’t touch you.

not in a dramatic way, he doesn’t whine or throw a tantrum, but he fidgets. tugs gently at your sleeve, loops a finger through your belt, reaches for the hem of your hoodie and walks behind you with his hand curled in the fabric like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep that small connection.

he doesn’t say it, but you feel it. in every little squeeze. every tug. every time he absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, over and over and over.

and yeah, it’s cute. mostly.

a little clingy. a little possessive. maybe even too much, depending on who you ask.

you’ve caught him glaring at strangers before. people who bump into you too hard, who stare too long, who so much as brush against your shoulder in a crowd. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a scene, but the way his jaw tightens, the way his grip on your hand gets firmer, it’s all there.

but then you look up at him and you smile. and all that tension melts.

because for him, nothing else matters when you’re smiling.

sometimes, completely out of nowhere, when his hand is resting on your hip or just under the hem of your shirt, he’ll whisper, “don’t pull away.”

his voice is soft, almost pleading.

“just let me hold you. please.”

and there’s something in it, something unspoken. like he really believes you’ll vanish if he lets go. like the world spins too fast and you’re the only thing that keeps him steady.

but you don’t mind.

because every circle he draws on your back with his fingertip, every hand slipped into your coat pocket, every gentle touch when no one’s looking, it’s his way of saying he loves you.

over and over again.

rin always buys you snacks.

his shopping cart always looks like a weird battle between someone who takes their training dead seriously and someone who eats like they’ve been left unattended in a convenience store.

he knows what he needs to buy as be steers through the aisles. he just grabs what he needs, checks the labels for protein content and sugar, and tosses it into the cart without checking the pricing.

protein powder that smells like chemicals but costs as much as three cartons of eggs. those energy drinks with ridiculous names like “focus rage” or “max charge” or “ultra zero venom”, like they’re going to give him superpowers. packs of plain grilled chicken. greek yogurt with zero fat, zero sugar, zero fun. rows of protein bars with chalky textures and flavor names that sound like lies.

he doesn’t even blink at the bland tastes. he just stocks up like a soldier prepping for war.

and then, every time, like it’s muscle memory, right before he heads to the checkout, he stops. just for a second.

his hand is on the cart handle, foot already starting to turn, but he doesn’t move. his eyes flick sideways toward the snack aisle.

he doesn’t sigh, doesn’t make much of a show of it. just slowly veers the cart over like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just change course because something reminded him of you, and he’ll know you’ll get that craving at 2am when he’s trying to sleep.

and without a word, he reaches out and grabs the loudest, most obnoxiously colored bag of corn chips he can find. your favorite kind. the ones that leave orange dust on your fingers and taste like plastic and artificial flavouring. not baked, definitely not healthy, not even pretending to be good for you.

he doesn’t check the label, doesn’t pretend he might share them. he just tosses them into the cart along with all his high performance, peak athlete fuel like they belong there.

when back at his apartment, he unloads everything with his usual stiffness. lines up the cold stuff in the fridge like a little army, all color coded, and pushes the pantry door closed with his foot.

and then he sets the bag of chips on your side of the table. doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you. just leaves them there, half buried under a bag of rice and a carton of eggs.

you always smile. sometimes say “thanks.” sometimes kiss his cheek. he always shrugs like it’s nothing.

“you forget to buy them,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “so i remembered.”

his face stays neutral, but his ears go a little pink.

and that’s it. that’s all he says.

because he won’t admit it, not out loud. not yet. but he notices what you like. he pays attention, even when it looks like he’s not. and he remembers, every single time.

isagi dresses up nice for you.

he had always been a “throw on whatever’s clean” kind of guy. oversized hoodies, plain t shirts, soccer pants with grass stains, and the same pair of sneakers he wore everywhere, rain or shine. it wasn’t that he didn’t care about how he looked, he just never thought it mattered all that much. clothes were just… clothes. something to cover him up so he could get to practice, or the store, or wherever he needed to be without getting cold.

but that changed after he started dating you.

he still remembers one of your first dates. he showed up in his usual chill outfit, gray hoodie, joggers, no real thought behind it, and then he saw you. standing there waiting for him, looking like something out of a movie. skin glowing in the late afternoon light, your clothes were cute and put together, your scent soft and sweet as you leaned in for a hug.

and in that moment, isagi felt… underdressed. painfully so. like a side character in someone else’s story. like he didn’t belong next to you.

you didn’t say anything about it. you were warm and kind, smiling like nothing was wrong, but his mind kept spinning. you were beautiful, and he wanted to match you. not because you ever asked him to, not because you cared about status or outfits or brands, but because he wanted to show you that you mattered. that being with you made him want to try. to be better. to be the kind of guy you could look at and think, yeah, he’s mine.

so, he started putting in effort.

slowly, at first. a nicer shirt. jeans that actually fit right. sneakers that weren’t torn up. he started googling “casual date outfits” at midnight and watching tutorials on how to style his hair. he’d stand in front of the mirror, fiddling with a comb for twenty minutes, trying to get it to lay just right.

when he overheard you telling someone that clear lip gloss looked cute on guys, he went out and bought one, hiding it in his drawer like it was some deep secret. he dabbed on a little cologne, just enough to smell good if you got close, but not too strong. he didn’t want to overdo it, he just wanted you to notice.

and the first time he showed up like that, button down shirt, clean black slacks, his hair actually styled, you blinked at him in surprise. your eyes lit up, and then you smiled, all warm and soft and proud.

“you look good.” you said, reaching out to straighten his collar.

he ducked his head immediately, ears turning pink, mumbling something like “it’s nothing,” but inside, his heart was pounding. your smile made all the fuss worth it. suddenly, all those minutes in front of the mirror didn’t feel stupid at all.

now, every time you two go out, he shows up looking polished. still isagi, but cleaned up in a way that’s intentional. for you. always for you. he pretends it’s no big deal, says things like “i just threw this on,” but you always catch him peeking at your face when you first see him, like he’s searching for that spark in your eyes. that little smile. that approval.

did you notice? did you think he looked good?

because for you, he wants to be someone you can be proud of. someone who fits beside you in every way.

someone who shows, even in the smallest things, just how much he cares.

nagi has you on his lap while he games.

he’s never really been the type to share. not his snacks, especially not the good ones he stashed behind the cereal boxes. not his phone charger, unless you pried it out of his hands. and definitely not his gaming setup, which he treated with the kind of care usually reserved for sacred artifacts. it was his zone. . his quiet, comfy little world where he didn’t have to talk too much or try too hard.

but you? you were the one exception to every rule he ever made.

the first time it happened, you thought he was messing around. he was already slouched in his chair, headset tilted halfway off his head, finger idly clicking through a loading screen when he looked up and said, “c’mere,” voice low and lazy, like he couldn’t be bothered to speak louder. he pat his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world, and when you hesitated, he just gave a soft, drawn out sigh, tugged you gently down into his arms like you were made to be there.

your legs fit across his, his arm curling loosely around your waist. he didn’t pause his game, didn’t adjust anything, just held you, controller still in one hand like it was second nature now, like you were part of the setup.

after that, it became a routine. when he booted up his system, he’d automatically tilt the mic so it could catch both your voices. if his teammates were being annoying, talking too much, playing like idiots, he’d lean close and murmur, “angel, tell them they suck.” like he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.

and you would. all smiles and giggles. “yo, you guys are actual trash. maybe click the uninstall button?”

he’d laugh every time, breathy and slow, and mute the mic just long enough to nuzzle into your shoulder and mumble, “so cute…” like he was falling asleep mid sentence, voice warm and soft, laced with affection only you got to hear.

when it came to crate openings, he always passed you the mouse. didn’t matter if it was a rare drop, or some ultra limited skin he’d been saving up for. didn’t matter if you had terrible luck or if you accidentally clicked the wrong tier. he didn’t even blink. he’d just lean back, cheek pressed against your shoulder, arms still draped around your waist, and say something like, “your hands are lucky… or maybe i just like watching you click stuff… dunno.”

sometimes he’d half doze like that, head tilted against you while the screen lit up with explosions and loot animations, his breathing slow and silent, but if you shifted too far or started to get up, he’d whine just a little, pulling you back down with cold fingers.

“…don’t go. you’re comfy.. stay.”

and even in the middle of intense matches, when he was wide awake and locked in, his touch never left you. one hand still on the controller, the other resting under your shirt, palm flat against the warmth of your skin. not in a dirty way, just there. soft and real.

“kinda makes me play better when you’re here,” he mumbled once, voice soft and muffled against your shoulder, like he was confessing a secret he didn’t know how to say out loud. he’s never been good with words. “feels easier. like… mm, dunno. just nicer.”

he was lazy, slow, always halfasleep, like the world was asking too much of him.

but when you were in his lap, calling out his kills and opening his crates, he didn’t mind putting in the effort. not for the game.

for you. always for you.

reo makes you give him a fashion show.

his favorite tradition, one he swears he’ll never get tired of, is the post shopping fashion show.

it happens every time. you come back from a shopping trip (usually with him), arms weighed down by sleek black bags with gold embossed logos, the kind of bags that make people stare. reo always takes them from you, grinning like a kid on christmas morning, but the second you’re inside his apartment, his spacious, sunlit, and stupidly expensive apartment, he flops onto the couch like he just ran a marathon.

he spreads out like a king. one arm slung over the back of the couch, legs wide, designer hoodie riding up just a little at his waist. he’s already got his phone out, camera app open, thumb hovering over the screen. his purple eyes are lazy but lit up, amusement curling at his lips.

“alright, babe,” he says, voice smooth and teasing, like he’s about to be spoiled. “impress me.”

and god, you always do.

you step out of his room wearing the first outfit, tags still on, fabric clinging in all the right places. before you can even say anything, the camera shutter starts going off, reo already leaning forward, angling his phone, snapping pictures like he’s backstage at fashion week.

“yeahhh,” he breathes, grinning, “that’s the one. wear that next week when i take you to dinner.”

you try to act nonchalant, rolling your eyes, adjusting a cuffs, but he catches the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. because he’s not playing around, not at all. he hypes you up with that soft, easy charm of his. not loud, not fake. just warm, like he genuinely believes you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and wants to make sure you know it too.

sometimes he puts his phone down. doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches you. his cheek resting on his knuckles, that dreamy, love struck look stealing over his face. the one he never bothers to hide.

“you look good in literally everything,” he says quietly, eyes dragging down your body and back up again. “like unfair good. how’d i get so lucky?”

you laugh, try to brush it off, but he’s already grabbing the phone again.

“wait, turn around,” he says, gesturing. “let me see the back. yeah, there, hold that pose.”

he takes photos of every look. seriously. all of them. he saves them in a locked album on his phone, titles it something stupid like “my baby’s runway”, and scrolls through it when you’re not around. sometimes he’ll set one as his lockscreen and just smile every time it lights up. doesn’t even try to hide it.

“i’m gonna frame this one,” he tells you one night, holding up a blurry pic of you mid spin, laughing in one of his designer jackets. “i’m serious. right next to my diplomas.”

you roll your eyes, but he just shrugs, like it makes perfect sense.

“fashion week could never,” he says, stretching out again, watching you disappear into the bedroom for your next change. “this is your week. every week is your week.”

he’s cocky, yeah. always has been. rich, too, old money, trust funds, family estate and all that. but with you, none of it’s about flexing. it’s not about showing off what he has. it’s about showing off you. because he’s proud. because he loves you. because you’re his favorite view in the world, no matter what you’re wearing.

but he’s not complaining when it’s a little tight, a little short, a little dangerous.

he just grins, leans back, and says, “how am i supposed to let you leave the house dressed like that?”

spoiler, he doesn’t.

[slttygeto]

“will you still have a crush?”

pairing: husband! suguru x wife! reader.

genre: fluff.

note: smth very short thats been sitting in my drafts for a while and i decided to work on since my insomnia kicked in. enjoy.

suguru can feel you staring at him, which he finds quite hilarious.

you on the other hand? you were fuming. or at least trying to.

because you know the argument you just had with suguru wasn’t really an argument, and that you were probably being dramatic and absolutely—no, certainly needed to hear suguru laugh again —he laughed so hard that he had tears in his eyes and you could feel your face heating up.

god, he was so fucking attractive.

so the question was—do you have a crush on me?

suguru had responded with—we have been married for four years. which was obviously the wrong answer and your husband should’ve known that.

“okay so you hate me.”

“baby, I married you.”

“what if someone dared you to?” to which suguru grimaced at.

“I’m not 15.”

“oh but you wish you were.”

stepping closer to you, making sure that he can still see the pancakes from his spot just in case they burn, suguru bends down to your level. “what does that mean baby?”

you try your best to unaffected by the close proximity, this was your husband for fuck’s sake. but even years later, the brown of his eyes makes you feel weak in the knees.

“you’d be the age where you hadn’t met me yet.” you add with a roll to your eyes, crossing your arms over your puffed out chest.

it catches suguru off guard, but he is clearly enjoying the little show you were putting on. because a few moments later, he is resting his forehead on your shoulder and his entire body trembles.

“what— are you laughing?!”

your husband cradles your face in his hands, pulling away from your shoulder to kiss your lips while you jokingly push him away.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry that was just so—“

“don’t talk to me! you don’t even take me seriously anymore!”

“I do! I just didn’t expect that kind of response.” he tries to reason with you, but to no avail.

and so now you were on the couch pouting, and he was sitting on the other side of the couch with a plate of pancakes.

“are you sure you don’t want some pancakes?”

“I wish I put poison in them.” you mutter under your breath, and suguru still thinks you’re the funniest person alive.

“a murderer announcing how they’re going to kill their target?” he teases, leaning closer to you while you pretend to stare anywhere but at his face.

“yeah and I would make sure no one finds your body.”

“how would you do that, baby?” you raise an eyebrow at him, and he mirrors your action, bringing his face closer to you. “I am kind of a big guy. wouldn’t that be a hassle to you?”

screw him for knowing how to make you fold.

“…I would have anger fueled strength.”

he gasps dramatically. “anger fueled?”

you nod. “because you hate me.”

“because I said I married you.”

“which was basically ignoring the question ‘do you have a crush on me?’ so yeah.”

“interesting.”

“to someone who’s full of disdain and hatred, yes it would be very interesting.”

the longer suguru stared at you, the more he effortlessly towered over you on the couch, the harder it was to keep the act going. his brown eyes stare deeply into your soul as he sets the plate down, turning to face you.

it’s silent at first, just his eyes staring at you and your face slowly warming up under his intense gaze.

“…what?” you finally break the silence, blinking repeatedly.

“four years down the road, and you still blink so much when you’re nervous.”

a habit no one noticed, not even your own mother. your eyes get watery when you’re nervous, they’re truly the mirror to your soul—

of course suguru would know that better than anyone else.

you sit there, lips parted in awe at his words and your face feeling like a furnace. if there was any person in the world who could make you feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time, it would be suguru.

“..sounds like you have a crush on me or something.” you mumble under your breath, trying your best not to crack under his gaze and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“maybe, who knows?”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[notiddygothgf]

i.

★ pairings: dante (netflix dmc) x fem reader

★ summary: After a messy breakup with Dante and a year of silence, you've rebuilt your life from the ground up. Now, Dante's back, and one thing is clear — he's determined to make you his.

★ ❝ It's been exactly 365 since I've seen your face ❞

★ c.w.:dante being a little shit, suggestive content. not beta'd, reuploading bc it got taken down?

★ a/n:HIIIIIIIII!!!! okay so i put out a poll asking about how y'all would feel if i posted a dante fic, and omg. so many of you replied. so now here go ahead and take this shit!! damn!!! jk i want him so bad so yk i had to rush to get this done LMFAOOAOA. enjoy besties! if you're from around here, you know the drill. if not, please leave lots of comments, i love the spam and your praise gives me motivation to update quicker!!

★ w.c: 10k

pretty ; chapter index

YOU AND DANTE had a messy breakup. Contrary to how it may have seemed at the time of “The Argument” (as you had begun calling it), there was nothing sudden about it. It didn’t detonate like some sort of time bomb, but disintegrated rather slowly – like water trickling through the cracks in the cement, soft and patient, until one day everything just caved in.

It didn’t always feel that way.

When you had first met Dante, it was… effortless. (Some of which was the rose colored glasses’ doing, you were sure). He was cute as hell, first of all. He was funny, too. He had no problems laughing you right out of your panties on the first date, and… well, practically every night after that. He looked at you like you were everything to him – like a dream come true, like he couldn’t believe someone like you would actually have chosen him. You got along famously.

For a while, things stayed that way. Six months, in fact. Things were good. Simple. You’d wake up to his arms around you, his voice in your ear, calling you names that only sounded pretty falling from his lips – princess, babydoll, sweetheart. His stupid jokes – the ones that always used to make you crack a tired grin. He used to make time.

But, somewhere along the way, his job started taking more and more of him. Late nights began to bleed into early mornings. You’d wait up for him with leftovers gone cold and shows paused halfway through. At first, he apologized. Said he hated missing out on time with you. But then the apologies stopped, and so did the explanations. You’d go days without hearing from him. Sometimes weeks. You’d text—hey, you okay?, can you call when you're free?—and the replies would trickle in too late or not at all.

You tried to be understanding. People get busy, right? Life gets in the way. You told yourself that a strong relationship should be able to weather a few quiet days. But it was more than just quiet. It was absence. It was like he was slipping through your fingers and pretending he wasn’t.

And when you did talk, it was always surface-level. You’d try to tell him how it made you feel—how the silence scared you, how you felt like you were in this alone—and he’d get defensive. He’d say, “I’m doing my best,” or “You know how much pressure I’m under right now.” And you’d bite your tongue. You didn’t want to add to the weight on his shoulders. But the resentment kept building. You weren’t asking for the world. Just a check-in. A sign that he still remembered how to love you when things got hard.

The miscommunications started small. A forgotten anniversary dinner. A vague answer when you asked if he’d be home. But they stacked up like dominoes, one after the other, until the smallest push sent everything toppling. You both stopped speaking the same language. You’d say, “I miss you,” and he’d hear, “You’re not good enough.” He’d say, “I’m tired,” and you’d hear, “You don’t matter.”

Then came the argument. The big one. The one that split the foundation.

You were setting the table when he buzzed the apartment door.

It was 10:18 PM.

You stared at the intercom for a second before pressing the button to let him in. No words. No "I'm here" or "Sorry I'm late." Just the click of the door unlocking and silence.

You opened the door before he could knock. Dante stepped in looking like hell—literal hell. Blood on his sleeve, eyes sunken from lack of sleep, hair damp like he’d tried to rinse off whatever mess he’d walked through before coming to you. He smelled like copper and smoke and exhaustion.

Still, your heart lifted for a beat just seeing him. Stupid, soft reflex.

“Hey,” you said.

He nodded. “Hey.”

You stepped aside and let him in. He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t touch you. Just dropped his duffel by the door like he was clocking out of something. The sight of him like this—tired, distant, barely standing—it tugged at something in your chest.

“I made dinner,” you said, a little too hopeful. “It’s probably cold by now, but—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut in, already moving toward the couch.

You stood in the kitchen for a second, hands still resting on the back of one of the chairs. Watching him. He sat with a grunt, elbows on knees, head in his hands like gravity was pressing harder than usual. You knew that posture. It meant don’t ask questions. Don’t start anything. Just let him sit in the silence.

But tonight… you couldn’t.

It had been a week. A week without him. A week of one-word texts, unanswered calls, and too many nights alone, replaying old conversations in your head trying to figure out when exactly he started slipping through your fingers.

“I waited,” you said softly. “I thought you were coming at eight.”

He didn’t look at you. “Got held up.”

You waited. Hoped for more. An apology. An explanation. Something that showed he realized this mattered.

Nothing.

You took a slow breath. “Dante… you can’t keep doing this.”

That made him lift his head, eyes hazy with irritation. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Ghosting me for a week. Showing up in the middle of the night like it’s nothing. Acting like I’m just supposed to—what? Pretend we’re fine?”

His jaw tensed. “I’ve been working.”

“I know,” you said, voice sharper than you meant. “I know you’ve been working. Risking your life. I get it. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care when you disappear. I can’t keep sitting alone in this apartment wondering if you’re alive.”

He blinked, like the words didn’t land right. Or like he didn’t want them to.

“You think I enjoy this?” he muttered. “You think I like being stuck in some sewer for three days bleeding out while some freak tries to tear me apart?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You have no idea what it’s like out there.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping forward. “But I know what it’s like in here. Waiting. Checking my phone every five minutes. Making excuses for you. Pretending this doesn’t hurt because I’m scared if I say the wrong thing, you’ll just disappear again.”

He stood then, sudden and sharp. “You think I want to be like this?”

“I think you don’t know how to let people in,” you said, quieter now. “And I think I’ve been trying so damn hard to hold onto something that doesn’t want to be held.”

He stared at you, breathing hard, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said finally.

“I didn’t cook for someone who wasn’t going to show up,” you said.

The room went still.

He looked away first. Scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

Your voice cracked on that last word, and he looked at you again—really looked this time. And for a second, something in him softened. Like he saw the version of you that wasn’t angry or nagging or dramatic. Just hurting.

But he didn’t reach for you.

Didn’t say I’m sorry.

Didn’t say I missed you.

Just ran a hand through his hair and said, “Maybe this isn’t working.”

Not working?

Not working?

“You can’t be serious,” You huffed out a bitter laugh. Dante reached for you. You swatted him away. “You… We’ve been together for six months. What the fuck do you mean “Maybe this isn’t working”?”

He stood before you with his arms crossed, white hair still disheveled from his day, eyes narrowed, jaw ticked. “I mean that this…” He answered, gesturing to the space between you and him. “Isn’t working out. I don’t think– I can’t…” He swallowed, “I can’t be the man you need me to be. Not right now.”

“You’re gonna give up on us? Just like that?” You continued, still, with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Then, you stepped forward, raising a hand to reach out for him, “I love you, Dante. You’re not gonna fight for us?”

“This isn’t love,” He spoke, tone final, but the slightest trembling breath beneath his words betrayed his true feelings. His fingers slipped into his hair, trembling as they carded through his white locks and tugged at his roots. “Look at you– you don’t even see the problem. You shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not your boyfriend is gonna come back alive. You shouldn’t have to put your whole life on hold for me. You still have the whole world to see. I don’t want to have to live a double life anymore.”

“Then let me in!” You hissed back. Your arms were crossed, too. “Do you think I like feeling as if I don’t know the man I love? I could take some of the burden off your shoulders, Dante, if you just–”

“Enough,” Dante sucked his teeth. “I don’t want you wasting your life away worrying over me,” After a lengthy pause, he continued, “All we ever do is fight and fight and fight– I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore, not with you. You’d be much happier without me.”

He was probably right.

“Oh, fuck you,” you shouted, your voice cracking with fury, but even then, it wasn’t enough to hide the way your heart was shattering inside your chest. When your eyes finally met his, you knew he felt the heat of it—anger and hurt and betrayal, all coiled together like fire licking at his skin.

“You’re not going to decide what’s best for me.”

“Yes, I am,” he snapped, cold and absolute.

You took a step forward, trembling, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break. “You don’t know what’s good for my well-being,” you bit back, chest heaving. “You don’t even know what’s good for your well-being.”

That hit him. You saw it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, how his teeth caught the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on the guilt. Then he said the words that broke you:

“You could be so much happier without me.”

And just like that, everything inside you stopped.

Something in your gaze must’ve shifted then—something that startled even him. Because the anger didn’t burn quite as bright anymore. The fire was still there, but it flickered lower, smothered by something glassy, something wet clinging to your lashes. It was hurt. Real hurt. Deep, bone-deep heartbreak that swelled until your chest couldn’t contain it.

“Baby…” he sighed, and for the first time, his voice wasn’t sharp. His shoulders dropped like the weight of his decision had finally started to crush him. “I’m sorry. You know I love you. I just… I can’t live with myself knowing that one day I might not come back to you.”

You didn’t say it back.

Not this time.

Even if you wanted to. Even if your love for him still pulsed through every inch of your body, even if it begged for a reason to stay—how could you keep loving someone who was walking away from you like this?

Your lips parted, dry and trembling. You licked them slowly, like maybe the right words would come if you just gave them time. But all you could manage, hoarse and raw, was: “Take your shit…” You swallowed hard. God, it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he could’ve done. “And go.”

He froze.

“What?” he asked, stunned, like he hadn’t expected you to mean it. Like he thought you’d plead. Cry. Kiss him one more time just to remember what it felt like. Like you’d make it easier for him to leave you.

But you didn’t.

“I said…” You looked up at him, every inch of you on fire, your arms folded so tight across your chest they ached. You could feel yourself shaking—fists clenched, breath shallow. “Take your shit… and get the fuck out of my apartment.”

And you meant it.

Even if it destroyed you.

You saw the pain in his eyes then. The flicker of disbelief. The way his entire world seemed to crumble at your feet. Two years. Two whole years. Twenty-four months of laughter, late nights, shared secrets, and silent apologies. A thousand soft I love yous whispered between sheets. A thousand more unspoken.

Was he second-guessing it now? Did he finally realize what he was throwing away?

YOU

|  Guys we’re going out tn.

When you reached the bar, it was still early. There were a few people here, but not too many. The low murmur of voices and clinking glasses provided the background noise that you desperately craved.

You grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, the burn in your throat just sharp enough to make you feel something—anything, really. It felt like you were drinking to forget, and the first sip seemed to help, dulling the edges of the ache, if only for a moment.

Your friends noticed you as soon as they walked in. They must have heard the difference in your voice when you answered their text. They could tell something was off, but they didn’t press. Not immediately.

The first drink turned into another. And another. You weren’t trying to get drunk; you were just trying to escape. To lose yourself in the clinking of ice cubes, in the low hum of the bar, in something that wasn’t him. But as the minutes passed, the alcohol didn’t do much to stop your thoughts from spiraling back to him.

You thought about the night before. The argument. His face, so conflicted, yet resolute. The way he walked away without even a second glance, as if he knew the decision he was making was the right one. How could he be so sure? How could he leave you like that?

“Another?” one of your friends asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She was smiling, but there was a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

You didn’t even think about it before nodding. “Yeah,” you said, a forced smile on your lips. "Just one more."

You didn’t want to talk about Dante. Not yet. You didn’t want to explain to anyone why you felt like the world had been yanked out from under you. But it didn’t matter. Your friends could see it in your eyes. They didn’t need you to say a word.

No, a year ago, your life changed.

So, you can imagine how it felt to walk home from a day spent at the grocery store, bags tucked beneath your arms, and see him standing there.

Dante.

It had been a year since you’d last seen him, and you were doing just fine. Really. A little grocery shopping to get your mind off the usual stuff, a bag of chips here, some pasta there. You didn’t need Dante in your life anymore, and if you were being honest, you were doing better without him. You had a boyfriend now, someone who didn’t make you question your sanity. Things were... uncomplicated.

That was until you turned the corner and saw him.

Dante. Standing there across the street, looking like he’d just stepped out of a scene from some movie you hadn’t signed up for. There he was, all messy hair and that familiar red coat, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You froze for a second, staring at him as if your eyes were playing tricks. Was he actually here? In your world, in your life, right now?

Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? The universe had a sick sense of humor.

You immediately felt that familiar wave of annoyance—was it even annoyance? Maybe it was exhaustion, or some mix of both. You adjusted the grocery bags under your arms and took a deep breath. You were doing just fine. He was not about to mess with your day.

But Dante, being Dante, didn’t just stand there. No, he was coming toward you now, his long stride eating up the space between you with an unsettling familiarity.

Great, you thought, shifting the weight of your bags to one side as if they were the only thing that mattered right now. But in truth, you were already calculating the best possible escape route. The crosswalk? Too far. The alley to your left? Maybe, but the sidewalk was too narrow. Okay, girl. Focus.

You picked up the pace, shifting into a power walk as though your life depended on it. Sure, you looked a little ridiculous, but it was a small price to pay for a little peace and quiet. You weren’t looking back. Not now.

Behind you, you could hear Dante’s footsteps closing in, his voice trailing after you, “Hey, wait up!”

But you didn’t wait up. No way.

You’d moved on. You had a boyfriend now, someone who would never make you feel like a damn emotional rollercoaster. Someone who didn’t show up after a year of radio silence with that same unreadable stare, acting like nothing happened. No, Dante. No thank you.

Still, you could hear his footsteps, gaining on you. It was like an unspoken challenge. You had to admit, he wasn’t slow. But neither were you. You adjusted the bags once again—damn, this was turning into a workout—and picked up the pace.

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. You weren’t even going to acknowledge the way your heart still remembered his presence, the way it beat a little faster the closer he got. You weren't going to let yourself get sucked back into that mess.

His voice was closer now. “Come on, just—”

A sigh. You were really doing this, weren’t you?

A glance over your shoulder, just a quick flick of the eyes to see how much ground he’d covered, and what do you know? He was right behind you now, practically breathing down your neck. “I’m just trying to catch up, alright?”

Catch up? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or groan at that. This wasn’t a race, Dante, and you didn’t need a personal trainer chasing you down the sidewalk. You could already feel the annoying tightness in your chest. The one that had always been there whenever he was around, the one that reminded you of how difficult it had been to move on in the first place.

He was getting too close for comfort now, and you could already tell this wasn’t going to end well if you kept this pace. So, against every instinct telling you to keep walking, you slowed down just enough for him to catch up. You didn’t want to, but here he was, breathing like he’d run a marathon just to get you to stop. And for what? So he could talk?

He stopped beside you, his eyes searching your face with that all-too-familiar intensity. His chest heaved slightly, probably from the exertion, but you’d be damned if you showed any signs of weakness.

For a second, he just stood there, catching his breath. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes straight ahead, acting like you hadn’t just sprinted for your life.

“Alright, listen,” he said, voice softer now, “I know I messed up. But can we at least—”

You didn’t even look at him as you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I can’t. I have to go.”

And that was that. You didn’t need to say anything else. You couldn’t afford to.

You were done.

That night, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hair tied up into a neat little bonnet. The faucet was running – lukewarm water trickling out – but you weren’t washing up. No, you were standing there, letting the water drip down your eyes, your cheeks, your neck. You were staring at your tired reflection.

You should’ve been washing away the exhaustion of the day, but instead, you just let it fall over you, droplets slipping down your face, down your chest, almost as if you were trying to wash away the past.

But you couldn’t. No matter how much water hit your skin, how much you scrubbed away at your tired reflection, you couldn’t erase him. Dante. He was there, in the back of your mind, in the way your pulse quickened when you saw him again, after all this time. It had been a year, and yet, when you looked at him across the street, the world seemed to stop for a moment. It was like stepping back into a dream.

You hadn’t realized how much of your heart you’d given to him, how much of yourself you’d let him take. And then, nothing. No texts, no calls, no explanation. Just silence, stretching on for months, the gap between you two growing wider, until you started to convince yourself that maybe that was for the best. Maybe you were better off without him, your life finally starting to take shape without the constant ache of waiting for him to come back, to acknowledge the mess he left behind.

Cupping your hands beneath the faucet, you splashed some more water onto your face. God, I need therapy.

But, being that your current rent situation didn’t exactly permit a visit to the psychologist at the moment, you threw your favorite fuzzy robe over your satin cami and shorts, popping your feet into your beat up pink slippers. You shuffled right over to your bedroom and plopped down onto the bed, limbs falling uselessly to the mattress.

Kill me, you thought.

That wasn’t viable, though. So, instead, you reached into your nightstand (past the vibrator you had bought eight months ago during the worst part of your dry streak) and pulled out a sheet mask. Biting into the package, you opened it and pulled the slimy thing out. The serum melted into your skin as you laid it over your face, leaning your head back against the pillows and relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages.

Your head was blissfully empty. There were no thoughts of men with precarious jobs and swords and… devilishly handsome faces. No, it was just you. You and your favorite pajamas and your favorite skincare routine.

You flicked the TV on. You didn’t have to change it back to your favorite channel. No, that was the glory of having a shitty little apartment in the city to yourself. It was on the same channel you left off on – your favorite drama.

The characters buzzed to life. You set the remote down and watched.

The characters on screen started a new conflict, one that you knew would keep you hooked for the next hour. You sank deeper into the couch, letting the familiar warmth of your apartment wash over you. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that only comes when you're truly alone.

Then, the sound came. A soft knock at the window outside your room, followed by a long, drawn-out silence. Your heart skipped, the peace broken. You froze, eyes still locked on the TV, the characters' voices fading into the background as your mind reeled. It was too late for anyone to be outside. Too late for anything normal to be happening. Another knock, louder this time. A rhythmic tap that sent a shiver down your spine. You slowly turned your head toward the window, your pulse quickening.

Oh, God, you thought. I’m going to die.

Still, because you couldn’t exactly ignore the sound, you slid out of your warm, comfortable bed and into your slippers once more. Then, hesitating every single step of the way, you snuck into the living room, glancing around in search of the source of the sound.

Another knock. This one louder. You held your breath, hand hovering just above the blinds. It was coming from outside. No one else came to your apartment at this hour. You knew who it had to be.

You glanced down.

There, crouched on the balcony just below your window, was Dante. His face was half-lit by the streetlights, a little smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he waved at you. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, like he hadn’t disappeared for an entire year. Like you hadn’t spent every sleepless night wondering if he was dead or alive, missing his presence as if your heart had been torn in half.

The audacity of it. There he was, grinning like nothing had changed. His hair was messy, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark that used to drive you crazy. The same spark that made your chest ache, even now.

“He cannot be serious,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but he caught it, his grin widening.

You could almost feel his eyes on you, waiting, daring you to say something. But you couldn’t. What could you even say?

All you could do was crack the window open.

“Sorry,” He huffed out a laugh. A familiar one. One you… kinda missed, actually. “I tried calling, but I think you blocked my number.”

“I got a new phone,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make this situation any better – as if you would open your eyes and he wouldn’t be here.

But he was. 

“What the fuck are you even doing here– I mean– the balcony, Dante, really?” You threw your hands out, eyes full of exasperation. “You could have knocked at the door like a normal person.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked. “If you knew it was me?”

“Probably not,” You replied honestly. “I should leave you out here to freeze to death.”

“Oh, right, about that,” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head abashedly. The entire encounter was so absurd that a part of you firmly believed you were dreaming. “I found out I’m, like… half demon. Crazy, right? So I don’t think I would freeze to death. Demon stamina, or whatever.”

Demon stamina. You thought. Right. Definitely awake right now.

Still, that would certainly explain his… endurance.

“Okay…” You had many, many questions, but that was the only thing you could muster, “Should I be… scared?”

What the fuck is going on?

In all honesty, if he told you that the world was ending tomorrow, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nah,” He waved your concerns away with the back of his hand. “I’d never hurt you. Except for… well, when I broke up with you. That’s why I came here, actually. Sorry about that. I’ve done some reflection and I…” Suddenly appearing rather nervous, he trailed off, “I fucked up. I was a real asshole to you back then. God, this is hard.”

Your arms dropped to your sides as you stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re… ridiculous.”

“I know,” Dante said, hands up like he was surrendering. “But hear me out—”

“No, no. You don’t get to just Spider-Man your way onto my balcony, confess your demon heritage, and then act like this is normal,” you said, pointing to him like you were trying to make sense of a hallucination. “You broke up with me out of nowhere. Then you vanished. For a year, Dante. Not a word. Not even a shitty text.”

“I didn’t have a phone,” he replied, offended. “I was on a mission. I was in Hell.”

You snorted. “Oh, please.”

He blinked at you. Then, very seriously, he hissed out, “No, I was literally in Hell. For a year. You can’t imagine what that was like for me.”

“Oh my god.” You pressed your fingers to your temples. “You’re insane. Hell? Really?”

“I’m not making it up! You think I wanted to ghost you for twelve months?”

“Well, you kind of did. You broke up with me, remember?” You crossed your arms. “Said I should forget you. That I should move on.”

A pregnant pause.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he muttered.

“Well, congrats. I moved on. I did the whole crying on the bathroom floor thing, I got a therapist, I drank my sorrows away, I bought this plant—” You gestured wildly at the lonely fern in the corner. “His name is Rico. And he’s thriving. Without you.”

Rico was not, in fact, thriving. He was an exotic plant. One you had purchased on impulse at a farmer’s market that you definitely should have researched prior. He wasn’t doing too well cooped up inside of your apartment in New York City. Who would?

Dante crouched down, tilting his head, squinting at Rico. “Looks a little dehydrated.”

You glared. “So do you. What do you even want, Dante?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down for a second, suddenly quiet. “I want a do-over.”

You stared at him.

“I didn’t have much control over the whole… trapped-in-hell thing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, “but I wasn’t happy with how we ended things. I could’ve been better to you. I kept rehearsing what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again, but I wasn’t expecting it to actually happen.”

He’s not being serious

… Is he?

One look at him, and you knew he was.

You let out a long, flat breath. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

You raised your brows. “Because we can’t,” you said again, quieter this time. And this time, it hurt.

“Why?” He asked, as if you hadn’t made yourself perfectly clear. “I’ve changed, honest. The past year I spent without you, I realized how good you were to me. How I took you for granted – I don’t wanna let you go. I don’t wanna make the same mistake twice.”

Aw, you thought, That’s… kinda sweet, actually.

No. Stop that.

Instead, you propped your hand up on your hip, “Does that mean you won’t be here on my balcony ever again?”

He paused, pursed his lips. “Okay, maybe I would,” He finally admitted. “But if you would let me in–”

You cut him off right then and there, rolling your eyes. “I can’t, Dante. I have a fucking boyfriend.”

That hit its mark.

His mouth opened, then closed again. The silence that followed made you uncomfortable in a way only Dante could manage—equal parts awkward and guilty. He looked down at the floor of the balcony like maybe it had some hidden message for him.

“Oh…” he murmured. “Oh. You… You really moved on.”

“Something like that.” You shrugged, trying not to sound as tired as you felt. “That’s what happens when you disappear for a year. Life goes on.”

“Not for me,” he muttered, lips curling downward into a pout that would’ve been funny if it didn’t come attached to so much damn history. “Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest.” Then he added, almost too fast, like it slipped out before he could filter it, “I could probably fuck you better, too—”

He probably could. Honestly, your current sex life with your current boyfriend wasn’t the greatest. Still, he was consistent. He didn’t leave you hanging for nights in a row, wondering if he would come home. Not to mention the fact that, when you were with Dante, well…

You had some of the loveliest orgasms you had ever had. On the bed, on the floor, on the kitchen counter. The kind of orgasm you hadn’t achieved once since he had left. Not with your vibrator, and certainly not with your new boyfriend.

Your stare could’ve burned through glass. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

He had the decency to look vaguely ashamed, but not enough to shut up. “Did you come here just to ask for a do-over?” you asked, already backing toward the window.

“No,” he said, and then paused. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.”

You almost respected his commitment. Almost.

You didn’t respond right away, just stared at him— hair as white as starlight, red leather coat, sword still strapped to his back, ridiculous expression like he genuinely thought charm could undo the year-long hole he’d left in your life. The silence made him fidget, scuffing the toe of his boot against the concrete.

“What do I have to do to convince you?”

You sighed. You really sighed this time, long and from the chest, because there was no point in even pretending this wasn’t exhausting.

“Goodnight, Dante,” you said.

Then… you shut the window.

The next day came with no promises of peace.

You were behind the counter at the diner, hair tied back, apron smudged with flour, oil, and maybe a little bit of your sanity. The coffee machine hissed in protest as you filled another mug for a trucker in the corner booth. Your feet hurt. Your head hurt. But at least it was a different kind of ache than the one Dante stirred up last night.

And then, like the universe had a personal vendetta against your emotional wellbeing, the bell above the door jingled.

You didn’t have to look up.

You felt him walk in—like some twisted sixth sense. The air shifted, and you could practically smell the cologne he always wore, something smoky and leather-soft. A second later, a voice followed.

“Damn. This place got a lot prettier since I was last here.”

You looked up anyway. Because of course you did.

There he was. Dante. Leaning casually against the host stand, all devil-may-care charm and a ridiculous leather jacket that made him look like he belonged anywhere but this greasy spoon diner. His eyes found you immediately.

You blinked slowly, then turned back to the coffee pot. “I swear to God,” you muttered under your breath, “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

He strolled right up to the counter, pulling up a stool like he hadn’t trespassed on your balcony twelve hours ago. Like he hadn’t cracked open an old wound and kissed the air with apologies.

“You look good in that apron,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t bother looking at him this time. “You look like someone who doesn’t tip well.”

“I tip amazing,” he argued. “Just like I–”

“Do me a favor and don’t finish that sentence,” you warned, grabbing a towel and wiping down a clean patch of counter for the hundredth time. “Have you always been this petulant or is it something in the air?”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said, shrugging innocently. “I’m a man of many talents. Want me to prove it? I’ve got time.”

Oh my god.

You finally turned to face him. “Do you not have demons to fight or… hell dimensions to get trapped in again?”

He laughed. “You remembered.”

You deadpanned, “How could I forget? It’s not every day your ex disappears into Hell without a cell phone.”

Dante lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. But look—I just thought we could talk. Maybe over some waffles? Syrup fixes a lot.”

You were already shaking your head. “No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you. Not here.”

“I’ll be good,” he said, drawing an imaginary halo over his head with his fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” you replied flatly.

“And you were never this mean to me,” he said with mock hurt.

“You were never this annoying. Go piss off somewhere. You had no problems leaving me alone for a year,” you shot back. Then you waved down one of your coworkers—a sweet girl named Lila with a bright smile and no idea what kind of emotional tornado she was about to serve.

“Hey, Lila?” you called. “Can you take counter stool three for me?”

She blinked. “Uh, sure. You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said, handing her a menu. “He’s all yours.”

Dante blinked as Lila approached with her notepad, looking confused and a little betrayed. “Wait, seriously?”

You leaned over the counter slightly, voice low. “You want waffles? Order them. You want closure? Write a poem.”

And then you walked away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. The ache in your chest was enough to tell you exactly what kind of expression he wore.

The living room was dark, lit only by the bluish haze of the TV screen flashing between killstreaks and loading screens. Your boyfriend was sunk deep into the couch, legs wide, controller gripped like a lifeline. He hadn’t looked at you in over twenty minutes, completely absorbed in his game, spewing half-hearted trash talk at some twelve-year-old with better aim and a louder mic.

You shifted beside him, stretching a little, brushing your leg against his. Nothing. So you leaned over, nuzzling your nose lightly against his neck, just beneath his jaw.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet. You let your fingers slide down his chest, slow and teasing. “Want to take a little break?”

He flinched—not from desire, but because someone on screen shot him. Again.

“Babe, not now,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the game. “I’m in ranked.”

You pulled back a bit, blinking, mouth falling open in disbelief. “Seriously?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept clicking buttons, dead focused on the screen. “Yeah, just like… fifteen more minutes. Can you make dinner or something?”

You stared at him, chest hollowing out in quiet, stunned offense. You’d offered him your body. He asked for food.

There was a moment of silence. Your hand dropped from his chest.

You sat back against the cushion, a little colder now, teeth pressing into your bottom lip. And that was when Dante’s voice—his voice—echoed in your head from the night before.

“Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest. I could probably fuck you better, too—”

You closed your eyes briefly, scoffing under your breath. God, he was ridiculous. And yet…

You pushed yourself off the couch wordlessly, heading to the kitchen without a sound.

Behind you, your boyfriend called out, “You’re the best, babe!”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. Just slammed the fridge door a little harder than necessary.

And in the back of your mind, Dante's voice lingered like a splinter.

You turned the stove on, lips pressed into a thin, tired line. Maybe later you’d lie down and try to remember what it felt like to be romanced by someone who didn’t treat Call of Duty like a second girlfriend.

One incredibly sexless night later, you took the evening to decompress. That is, you lit up some candles, had a few slices of the pie you’d kept in your fridge for days just like this one, and blocked off an hour for the sole purpose of masturbation. 

What? You needed it.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit, perfectly still. You’d even put your phone on Do Not Disturb, because tonight was about you. Your fingers itched with anticipation as you laid out your night like a ritual: the robe slipping lower on your shoulder, the cool sheets turned down, your favorite toy already waiting on the nightstand like a promise.

God. You needed this. You were wound tight. Between work, the complete lack of passion from the man you were dating, and that absolutely deranged balcony visit from Dante… you were more than pent up. You were practically vibrating with unmet desire.

You let out a long, dramatic exhale, sinking down into your mattress with the kind of grace usually reserved for tragic heroines. Just you, a flickering candle, and the fantasy of literally anyone but your boyfriend.

You reached for the waistband of your pajama shorts.

Knock, knock.

Your hand froze.

You stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe someone had the wrong door.

Knock, knock. Louder this time. Three slow raps, followed by silence.

You sat up slowly, groaning into the air. Then, begrudgingly, you stuffed your vibrator back into the drawer, kicking your feet over the edge of the bed and walking into the living room. It was dark, of course, so you flicked on a light. When you stared into the peephole of your front door, it took all of the strength you had to not bang your head against the door.

It was Dante. Again. No leather jacket this time, just a black hoodie, hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You blinked, then groaned into the back of your hand.

Another knock, like he heard you. And then, muffled through the wood, his voice.

“I can hear you in there. Demon hearing, remember?” He brought his head up to the peephole, staring right back at you. “I know it’s late, Just… let me talk to you? For just a second? Please?”

You pulled the door open.

Dante stood there in the dim hallway light, hair windswept, hands in his pockets like he’d been pacing outside for a while, working up the nerve. His gaze moved over your face with a kind of stunned reverence, like he hadn’t really believed he’d see you again.

“Hey, princess,” he said.

There it was. That nickname. The one you hadn’t heard in a year.

You stepped aside without a word. He walked in like the place still remembered him. Or maybe you did.

The door clicked shut behind you.

You didn’t speak. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight over your chest, watching him watch the room like it had changed without him. It had. You had. But he still looked at you like he saw the girl you were a year ago. That girl who let him ruin her, and smiled while doing it.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “I tried.”

“Did you?” You answered.

“Okay, not really,” He looked at you again, more serious now. “I keep thinking about you. All the time. You’re in my head constantly, like—fuck—I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll see something and just need to tell you about it.”

You laughed. Just once. It came out bitter and exhausted. “Keep it to yourself.”

“I missed talking to you about anything,” he said. “Everything.”

You shook your head, pushing off the wall, pacing just a little—like if you kept moving, you wouldn’t fall for this again. “You don’t get to come back after vanishing for a year and say shit like that.”

“I know. I know I don’t,” he said quickly, stepping toward you. “But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve been trying to act like– like I’m not completely in love with you still, and it’s killing me.”

Your breath caught.

After all of this time?

His hands reached for yours before you could stop him. You let him take them.

Okay… what the fuck is going on?

“You deserve someone who sees you. Someone who treats you like you matter every second of the day,” he said. “Someone who doesn’t take you for granted. I could be that. I want to be that.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Because you’d heard those words before, from people who never meant them. From the person you’d curled up beside just last night, feeling more alone than ever. And yet here Dante was, saying all the right things—but he hadn’t even asked. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know how long it had been since someone had touched you like they meant it.

Your voice came out hoarse. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” he whispered. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I think about you when I’m trying to sleep. I think about your laugh. Your stupid, shitty taste in TV. Your coffee order. The movies you like. I want that back. I want you back.”

You yanked your hands away, jaw tight.

He’s got a lot of fucking nerve.

“Don’t do this,” you said. “Don’t show up and say these things and make me feel like this again. You don’t even know what you left behind.”

He looked at you, eyes open and raw. “Then tell me. Let me make it right.”

“Go away, Dante.” you snapped.

Silence fell between you like a slammed door. You turned your back to him, trying to catch your breath.

Then he stepped in behind you.

Not touching, not quite—but close enough that you felt the heat of him. Close enough that your body remembered every inch of him like a phantom limb. 

“Hey,” he murmured. “I know I fucked up. Can you be… like, not so mad? Just for two seconds?”

His hand slid to your hip, turning you gently toward him. You let him, still trembling, still so full of everything you never got to say.

“I’ve been in love with you this whole time,” he whispered. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words were genuine. Genuine enough that you felt the tears begin to prickle at your eyes all over again – emotional at the mere thought of him, because truthfully?

You missed him, too. You just didn’t want to admit it. You missed the late nights and later mornings. You missed waking up next to him, hearing him talk about his crazy adventures as a demon hunter. You missed his kisses, the smell of him, his everything.

And, God, the sex… The sex was great.

He was taller than you. Always had been. But in that moment, it felt impossible not to notice how much he towered over you—how his shadow swallowed yours, how the air itself seemed to dip around him. You didn’t want to look up at him, but you did.

You stood frozen, breath shallow, pulse racing in your throat. You didn’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. But here you were, locked in place, every part of you screaming to walk away, and every part of you still craving the comfort of his touch.

“Please…” You whispered, trying to fight the overwhelming tide of emotion. “Please, Dante. Just go.”

His expression softened, like he hadn’t expected that—like he was expecting something more. You felt his fingers on your waist now, and they were warm, pressing gently into your skin. There was no escape now. You weren’t sure you wanted to run anymore, not when it felt like your body was already betraying you.

“I shouldn’t be here, I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. The distance between you seemed to vanish with each word. “But I couldn’t stay away. I tried to forget about you, I tried so damn hard, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Don’t, Dante. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

His eyes searched yours, the guilt and longing mixing together in a way that made your heart ache. He was close now, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t stop him. Not yet.

“I know I fucked up,” he whispered again, more softly this time. “But I love you. I never stopped. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t. I just—I can’t be without you.”

And then, without waiting for another word, he leaned in.

His lips touched yours, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. You didn’t stop him. For that moment, for that brief, heart-stopping moment, you let yourself fall back into the pull of him. Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

God, I missed this.

You melted against him, a wave of relief crashing over you as his kiss deepened, more urgent, more desperate. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you responded without thinking, your body moving instinctively against his. He groaned low in his throat, his hand sliding to your neck, the other pressing you closer.

You kissed him back like you were starving, like you had been dying for this. And for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered—like the last year of silence, the hurt, the betrayal, all of it faded away in the heat of his mouth on yours.

But then, just as quickly as the warmth had started, it turned cold.

You pulled away, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with the sudden rush of emotion. You couldn’t do this. Not again. Not after everything. Your hands shook as you pushed against his chest, creating just enough space to break the connection.

“No,” you said, your voice breaking as you stepped back, wiping at your eyes. “No. I can’t do this. I won’t.”

He blinked at you, stunned, his face pale, but he didn’t move. His eyes were full of confusion, pain, and something darker that you didn’t want to see.

“I can’t,” you repeated, voice steadying with every word. You took another step back, hand reaching for the door. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

There it was.

“I’m sorry, Dante,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I really am.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and for the briefest second, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes – something devastating.

But then, he nodded. The motion was slow, almost resigned, and he took a step back. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. As he passed you, he stopped for a moment, his gaze lingering on you one last time.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

And then, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

You were sitting on the couch, the faint sounds of your boyfriend’s video game drifting from the other room, mingling with the hum of the refrigerator. You hated that noise—hated the sound of him so effortlessly immersed in a world that wasn’t yours, that didn’t care about the growing tension between the two of you. You tried to focus on the TV, tried to let the sitcom's canned laughter drown out the gnawing discomfort in your stomach. But it wasn’t working. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Dante had said.

I could treat you so much better.

Those words. God, they kept coming back to you. You didn’t want them to. You didn’t want to feel them pushing into every corner of your mind, making you question everything you thought you knew. But they did. And you were alone with those thoughts now. Alone with your insecurities that you usually kept locked away.

You huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around you as if it could protect you from the storm of doubt forming in your chest. You shouldn’t be thinking about him—about Dante. You should be thinking about how your boyfriend had been in and out of your life, barely there, barely present, always distracted. But the longer you sat there, the more it seemed like it was all just a reflection of the way you felt inside: disconnected, hollowed out, drifting.

And then, as if fate was timing it just perfectly, he left his phone on the counter.

Your breath caught, the phone staring at you like a challenge, like an invitation. You told yourself you wouldn’t. You promised you wouldn’t invade his privacy like this. But your fingers itched to touch it, to confirm the sinking feeling in your stomach that something—someone—wasn't right.

You pushed yourself off the couch, the decision feeling both slow and inevitable as you walked toward the kitchen. The phone sat innocently on the counter, waiting. You took a breath, a shaky, hesitant inhale. You could walk away. You could pretend you didn’t see it.

But you didn’t.

You picked it up, unlocking it with a simple swipe. Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline kicking in as if you were about to do something reckless. The phone screen lit up with messages from some unnamed number. And when you saw the first message, your throat tightened.

"I miss you so much. When can I see you again?"

It hit you hard. Like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t even had time to react before your eyes were scanning the next message, then the next, your stomach sinking deeper and deeper with every word.

“Last night was incredible. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A sharp, painful gasp escaped you before you could stop it. You clutched the phone tighter, staring at the words, and then—bam—it all crashed into you. You hadn’t been wrong. You hadn’t been imagining the distance, the emotional coldness that had settled between you and your boyfriend. There it was, in black and white—proof of his betrayal.

You felt like you were drowning, suffocating under the weight of it all. This wasn’t just about the messages. It was about everything. About the endless late nights when he came home late from “work,” about the weekends when he’d disappear into his own world, leaving you to figure out where you fit into it. And now this—this confirmation that the man you had been with for so long wasn’t who you thought he was.

You could almost hear Dante’s voice again in your head. I could treat you so much better. The words felt like salt in a wound you hadn’t even realized you had, their presence almost suffocating in the quiet of your kitchen. Were you settling? Were you really going to let this happen? Let yourself get swallowed by someone who couldn’t even give you the decency of respect?

You exhaled sharply, your pulse quickening as the next message flashed on the screen.

“I can’t wait to see you again, babe.”

Babe.

The word made you sick, twisting your stomach into knots. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much—maybe because it wasn’t meant for you. Maybe because it was meant for someone else. Someone who got his attention, who got his time, his affection. It wasn’t you. You were just the woman he settled for, the one who wasn’t good enough for the effort.

The room felt too small, the air too thick, and you suddenly hated everything about this moment. The phone in your hand, the pit in your stomach, the way you had let things go on for this long. You could feel the tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You weren’t going to cry over this. You weren’t going to let him have that power over you.

But just as quickly, the rush of hurt was replaced by something else—a sharp anger that burned through you like fire. You weren’t going to keep doing this. You weren’t going to keep letting him make you feel small. You weren’t going to keep standing by, pretending that nothing was wrong when everything was falling apart around you.

You weren’t going to be the backup. The woman who stayed even though she knew she deserved more.

The sound of footsteps from the other room snapped you out of your thoughts, and you shoved the phone down onto the counter, just as your boyfriend entered the kitchen. His voice was casual, too casual, as if nothing had changed.

“Hey, babe. You alright?” He asked, glancing over at you.

You didn’t respond right away. You just stared at him, your chest tight with all the words you didn’t want to say, the emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The raw anger, the aching disappointment—it was all building up inside you, suffocating you. You stood there in the kitchen, phone still in your hand, his lies echoing in your mind. Every text, every word, had become a blade, slicing through your trust, through your relationship. And now, standing face-to-face with him, it all came to a boiling point.

You couldn’t help it.

You walked up to him, eyes burning with fury, and before he could even open his mouth to explain himself, your hand shot out. The slap echoed through the small apartment, sharp and loud, breaking the tense silence between you.

His head jerked to the side from the impact. He didn’t even seem surprised. But you could see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Too late for that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your voice trembled with rage as the words spilled out. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’m some kind of idiot, just sitting here while you lie to my face?”

He reached up, touching his cheek, and for a moment, he looked almost confused. “What the hell are you talking abou–”

“No.” You cut him off, stepping back, trying to breathe, to stop the angry tears from spilling over. “Don’t even try. I’ve been here, okay? I’ve been here, giving you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

You could feel the walls around you closing in. The kitchen—the place where you had made so many meals together, laughed together, fought together—it suddenly felt suffocating. This wasn’t your home anymore. It wasn’t the place you thought it was.

“I trusted you,” you spat, your voice cracking. “I trusted you, and you went behind my back. All this time, you were texting her—her—while I was sitting here, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.”

His eyes widened, but then he scoffed, trying to brush it off. “Come on, it’s not like that. She’s just—”

“Don’t!” You interrupted again, shaking your head, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what excuses you’ve got. I don’t want to hear how you’re ‘sorry’ and how ‘it wasn’t like that’ because it was. I saw the texts. I saw everything.”

There was a cold silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He was quiet now, eyes downcast, as if he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he had no idea how to fix it—because there was no fixing it. Not this time.

“Do you even care?” You whispered, feeling the heartbreak seep into your bones. “Do you even care that you’ve been hurting me this whole time?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He was trying to form the right words, trying to make it sound like he cared, like he had some kind of reason, but it was too late for that.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I’m done.”

He froze. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Wait—what? You can’t—”

“Don’t try to stop me.” You took a deep breath, the anger dissipating just enough to feel the weight of the pain. “I’m not staying here. I’m not going to keep putting myself through this. I’m done.”

His face fell. You could see the regret in his eyes, but you didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you’d just found out.

You turned your back on him, heading for the bedroom to grab your things. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You could feel the tension in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. Not anymore. You were done.

You grabbed your bag—your jacket, your wallet, your keys—and made your way toward the door. Every step felt heavy, like you were walking away from something you had invested so much of yourself into, and yet, there was a strange sense of relief settling in your chest. You were leaving behind a lie, a hollow version of something you had once wanted to be real. 

You were leaving him.

“Wait,” he called out, his voice strained. “Please, don’t go. We can fix this. We can talk—”

But you didn’t listen. You opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, and closed it behind you. The sound of it was final. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You didn’t want to be with someone who could betray you like this.

Still, weak thing that you were, you began to cry.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

As you walked down the hallway, your phone felt heavy in your pocket. You didn’t want to look at it. 

But then, your fingers moved of their own accord, slipping the phone out of your pocket.

And there it was: Dante’s old number.

The one you’d saved with the naive hope that he might have called. You hadn’t thought about it in a while. You hadn’t dared to reach out to him—hadn’t dared to even look at his name on your phone. But now, standing there in the hallway, your heart pounding, your chest tight from everything you’d just left behind, you thought about what he’d said to you.

I could treat you better. 

I’ve always been in love with you.

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought. You could still hear his voice in your head, still feel the weight of his words.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, uncertainty swirling inside you. You didn’t know why you were doing this. You didn’t know what you hoped to get from it, but you couldn’t shake the pull. You wanted—needed—someone who saw you. Someone who cared.

So, in a moment of weakness, you typed the words.

YOU: I need you.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself. The words felt foreign, too raw, too vulnerable, but you couldn’t take them back now.

a/n: ok so whenn i say this is gonna be short... i MEAN IT THIS TIME LOL..... maybe. anyway! part two is almost done, so comment what you thought, let me know what you'd like to see, what you loved, etc! until next time, my loves x not sure why this got deleted? but ok

I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @mrshayakawaa

wanna join the taglist? | pretty ; chapter index

[gojosconsort]

heheheeeeeeeee sex with husband!suguru cuz his pregnants wifes libido is literally over the roof with these raging hormones. she is like a dog in heat.

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. pregnancy, riding, creampie, breeding kink, body insecurity (related to pregnancy weight), multiple rounds of sex, aftercare, domestic fluff

the house is quiet, late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. suguru’s sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back, watching you shuffle around in nothing but his oversized shirt, the fabric stretching tight over your swollen belly. seven months pregnant, and you’re a vision—curves fuller, skin glowing, but there’s a restlessness in you, a hunger that’s been there since the hormones kicked into overdrive. you’re like a dog in heat, insatiable, craving him morning, noon, and night, and fuck, he loves it. loves you. loves the way you’re both animals now, rutting like you can’t get enough.

you catch his gaze, pausing mid-step, and he sees it—the glint in your eyes, the way your thighs press together. “suguru,” you whine, voice thick with need, and he’s already hard, cock twitching in his sweats at the sound. you’ve fucked three times today already—once in the shower, water slicking your skin as he pinned you against the tiles; once in the kitchen, bending you over the counter; and now you want more. he grins, lazy and predatory, spreading his legs wider. “c’mere, baby,” he says, low and rough. “you’re gonna kill me, but i’m not complaining.”

you’re on him in seconds, straddling his lap, hands fumbling with his waistband. your belly presses against him, heavy and warm, and you hesitate, a flicker of shyness crossing your face. “i’m so… big,” you mutter, cheeks flushing, hands hovering over your stomach. “what if it’s too much?” suguru’s heart twists—he hates when you doubt yourself, especially now, when you’re carrying his kid, looking like a fucking goddess. he grabs your hips, firm, pulling you closer. “you’re perfect,” he growls, eyes dark with want. “and i want you so bad it hurts. let me fuck you ‘til you can’t think.”

his words light you up, shyness melting under the heat of his desire. you free his cock, thick and leaking, and he groans as you stroke him, your hands shaky with eagerness. “ride me,” he says, voice almost a command, but there’s pleading in it too. “i love watching you fuck yourself on me.” you whimper, nodding, but your movements are slower now, the weight of your belly making it harder. he sees the struggle and helps, hands guiding your hips, lifting you slightly as you line him up.

you sink down, slow at first, and fuck, it’s heaven. he’s deep, stretching you wide, and you both moan, raw and loud, as you take him fully. “so tight,” he rasps, hands roaming your thighs, your ass, gripping hard enough to bruise. “every time, baby, you feel like a dream.” you’re hesitant, trying to find your rhythm, but the hormones have you desperate, hips rocking before you can stop yourself. he helps, lifting you, letting you bounce, and the sight—god, the sight. your tits, fuller now, straining against his shirt; your belly, round and heavy; your face, flushed and needy, lips parted as you pant. he’s obsessed, wants to burn this into his brain forever.

“suguru,” you gasp, hands braced on his chest, nails digging in. “s’too much, but i need it.” you’re a mess, grinding down, chasing the friction, and he loves how wild you are, how you’re both reduced to this—animals, clawing at each other. he thrusts up, meeting your movements, and you cry out, head tipping back, the sound driving him feral. “that’s it,” he grunts, hands sliding to your ass, spanking you lightly, just enough to make you jolt. “fuck yourself on my cock, baby. cum. for me.”

you try, bouncing harder, but the weight slows you, frustration flashing in your eyes. he senses it, takes over, lifting you effortlessly, slamming you down in time with his thrusts. “let me help,” he murmurs, but there’s a mean edge to it, a teasing lilt. “can’t even ride me proper with that belly, huh? good thing i’m here to fuck you right.” you whimper, clinging to him, and he loves it—loves how you need him, how you give yourself over completely.

he’s deep, so deep, each thrust hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and you’re loud, moans spilling out, unfiltered. “more,” you beg, voice breaking, and he gives it, relentless, fucking up into you like he’s trying to plant another baby right now. “fuck, i want another one,” he groans, hands cupping your belly, imagining it swollen again, full of him. “gonna keep you like this, always.” you shudder, turned on by his words, by the idea, and he feels you clench, milking him, pulling him closer to the edge.

“suguru, i’m—” you don’t finish, orgasm hitting hard, ripping through you. you scream, body shaking, and he holds you through it, thrusting harder, chasing his own release. “fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he pants, watching you fall apart, loving how you drench him, how you’re his. he comes seconds later, spilling deep inside, groaning as he fills you, the thought of breeding you again making it that much sweeter. you collapse against him, panting, sweaty, and he wraps his arms around you, kissing your temple, your hair, your shoulder.

you’re still trembling, and he shifts, careful not to jostle you too much, laying you back on the couch. “one more?” you mumble, half-joking, but there’s that glint in your eye, the hormones still raging. he laughs, soft but wicked, already hard again at the thought. “you’re insatiable,” he says, climbing over you, but his touch is gentle now, hands stroking your sides, your belly. “gimme a minute, baby. let me take care of you first.”

he grabs a glass of water from the kitchen, helping you sip, wiping sweat from your brow with a cool cloth. “you feeling okay?” he asks, eyes searching yours, checking for any discomfort. your weight’s been on your mind lately, and he knows it, so he leans down, kissing your stomach, murmuring, “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.” you smile, shy but warm, and he kisses you properly, slow and deep, pouring all his love into it.

“i love you like this,” he says, settling beside you, one hand resting on your belly, feeling the faint kick of your baby. “all needy, all mine. and fuck, when you ride me?” he grins, teasing, but there’s awe there too. “it’s the hottest thing. you’re perfect, baby.” you laugh, swatting him weakly, but you’re glowing, the insecurity fading under his praise.

“again soon?” you ask, voice soft, and he chuckles, pulling you close, already planning the next round. “soon as you want,” he promises, mean edge creeping back, but it’s wrapped in devotion. “i’m keeping you pregnant forever if it means this.” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, curling into him, and he knows—he’s never loved you more than now, wild and wanting, carrying his child, his life.

he stays there, holding you ‘til you drift off, his hand never leaving your belly, already dreaming of the next time he’ll have you bouncing on him, fucking like animals, building a family one hot night at a time.

[kingkaisen]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄!

🍔🍟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s one thing GOJO won’t accept, and it’s bad customer service. he’ll just have to fuck the attitude right out of the rude cashier.

🍔🍟 — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY || MDNI — semi-public, unprotected & hate sex, creampie, orgasm denial, brief spanking, sweet & degrading nicknames, manhandling, dumbification, oral, fem! reader.

🍔🍟 — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3K

🍔🍟 — 𝐚/𝐧: mdni template guide by @/kithsune. the reader does NOT work at mcdonald’s. screw mcdonald’s.

When Satoru Gojo stepped through the double doors of his favorite 24-hour fast-food restaurant — the door chiming to alert any potential workers of his presence — he wasn’t greeted.

That was the first red flag.

Truth be told, he wasn’t so entitled that he would expect to be greeted whenever he entered a place where customer service was expected, as most times, the employees were too busy preparing burgers and fries or wiping off greasy tables covered in spilled soda with nothing but a wet rag and an insane amount of patience.

But, it wasn’t the lunchtime rush hour. It was 1:35 A.M., and as he approached the counter, he saw only one employee, who wasn’t doing anything at all, aside from glaring at him.

As a busy man, Satoru wasn’t one to spend his precious time standing over a hot stove.

While he could cook, and his food was edible at the very least, his busy, career-driven lifestyle as an overworked individual meant that he had to rely on convenient fast food and styrofoam cups of chicken-flavored ramen more than he was willing to admit.

And, because of that, you recognized that white-haired man instantly.

Frequent visitor.

Always came in at the worst hours imaginable.

Liked to change up his order constantly as well, making it impossible to have his food prepared before his arrival.

“You again?” Frowning at the customer, you leaned over the counter, placing your elbow on the cold, gray countertop as your chin rested in the palm of your hand. “Did anyone ever teach you how to cook?”

“Did anyone ever teach you how to have manners?” Satoru shot back, his hands in his pockets as he halted his footsteps.

Those beautiful blue eyes of his scanned the big menu board above you, searching for the perfect hour-past-midnight combo.

Truth be told, he wasn’t taking a long time to order. Not any longer than most customers take, at least. But, even so, you rhythmically tapped your nails against the counter, sighing heavily with impatience.

“Something wrong?” Satoru darted his eyes down to you — the sluggish cashier.

“Can you just hurry up and order, please? I already gotta go cook whatever you want by myself without any help, so stop wasting my time.”

Satoru laughed, and you frowned.

What exactly did that lousy bastard find so funny?

“No wonder you’re not afraid to talk to me like that. And to dress out of dress code. There’s no one around to discipline you, huh?”

“Shut up,” rising from the counter, your frown only deepened, and his smile only widened. “Even if my boss was here, he wouldn’t care. Besides, the skirt is a part of the dress code, now just hurry up and order some-”

“But it’s not supposed to be pulled up that high, is it?”

Instead of responding, you grabbed your cup off of the counter, sipping on your favorite drink through the red, plastic straw as you glared at the aggravating customer.

“Are you gonna order or not?” You eventually questioned, your eyes glistening with annoyance.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Smirking, he pulled his black wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll have the number one with a coke.”

Silently, you pressed a few buttons on the POS system computer screen in front of you.

“$20.78.”

“That’s not right,” Satoru paused. “Way too high.”

“Well, I put it in correctly, so I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Can’t afford it?”

For a moment, Satoru simply stared at you. His facial expression was impossible to read.

Suddenly, he walked away from the counter, went through the black door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and was standing right behind you in only a handful of seconds.

“What-” Stammering, you looked back at the tall man hovering behind you, who stared the computer screen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to come back here.”

“And you’re not supposed to overcharge a customer, right?” Satoru’s body was only a few inches away from yours, close enough for you to smell him. Feel his body heat. “Let me take a look at it.”

No flippant remark was fired back. How surprising.

You couldn’t see his face once you turned to look at the white screen displaying his incorrectly rung-up order, but you could feel his cocky smirk as he pressed a few buttons on your screen.

“Here’s the problem, baby.” He said. “You rang up my order twice without realizing it. Is pressing a few buttons too difficult for you? Hm?”

Folding your arms across your chest, you refused to answer that smirking son-of-a-bitch.

“No answer? Oh, c’mon.” Suddenly, Satoru closed the space between your bodies, completely pressing himself against your backside. “You were running your mouth earlier. Why so shy now? Not so bold when there isn’t a counter separating us, are you?”

You gulped. And you gulped because that annoying customer’s hard bulge was pressed right against your ass and back, and — god — as much as you would like to slap him across the face, you found yourself slickly pushing back against him instead, just to feel it through your skirt a little more.

Your own desperation was embarrassing for you, but it couldn’t be helped. Not when he was so close.

“Oh, I see,” Reaching around you, Satoru’s large hand suddenly cupped your jaw, and he pulled your head up and to the side until you were looking at him.

“So you don’t wanna talk, you don’t wanna take my order, but you wanna try and grind yourself against me? I had a feeling you were nothing more than a little slut, and it looks like I was right.”

Before you could respond — not that you would have, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — Satoru leaned down a bit and smashed his lips against yours.

You sharply inhaled, gasping in shock, and he smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss.

With his large hand cupping your jaw, keeping your head in place, he shoved his tongue into your wet mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of you.

Feeling your tongue swirl around his as if you could keep up with the sloppy way he dominated your mouth was both cute and amusing to him.

He kissed you deeply like this so you would forever remember the taste of him. So you would never forget the feeling of his tongue rubbing against yours.

And when he pulled away, a string of spit falling from your previously connected lips, Satoru suddenly gripped your waist from behind, lifted you a bit, and placed you across the counter.

You were lying on your stomach with your ass exposed to him, and the entire scene was exposed for any potential customer who walked in to witness.

“What the hell are you thinking?” You glanced around, double-checking that the restaurant was empty. “Someone could walk in and catch us, you idiot.”

“Think that makes it pretty exciting, doesn’t it? Maybe they’ll enjoy a show.”

He wasn’t worried. Worst case scenario, he’d have to ask his friend in the government, Suguru Geto, to work some magic for him.

Satoru ran his hands over the back of your soft thighs. Then, he fondled your ass, raising your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

He gave your ass a quick spank, laughing when you yelped a bit.

“You know what I think?” He paused, running his fingers across the glistening lips of your pussy. “I think you’re overworked, aren’t you, baby? Pretty girls like you become all bitter and angry when they have to work so much because then they have no time to get fucked properly. Isn’t that right?”

Suddenly, Satoru bit his bottom lip and shoved two of his fingers inside your aching hole.

“This pussy’s pretty tight, sweetheart. Seems like I was right.” Pumping his long fingers in and out of you at a steady, quick pace, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure you get a good fucking.”

Muffled moans and the sound of cars speeding down the road in the distance filled the silence. Satoru, however, didn’t appreciate your attempts at quieting the beautiful noises he was eliciting from you.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Satoru ordered.

You removed your hand, which was previously covering your mouth. Placing both arms behind your back, Satoru held on tightly to your wrists with one hand and continued to curl his fingers up inside of your pussy with the other.

“There we go,” he said with a teasing tone. “I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth. Now let me hear you moan.”

“Oh my god,” you breathlessly moaned. “Shit . . .”

He was right. It had been far too long since anyone had touched you, and even then, it wasn’t as pleasurable as it was right now.

He moved his fingers with great skill. As you arrived closer and closer to your approaching orgasm — made obvious by the way you started to squirm — Satoru pumped his fingers faster and faster.

Just when you were about cum, he yanked them out of your clenching hole.

“Why-Why’d you stop?” You groaned in frustration. “Keep going.”

“No. I don’t want you cumming on my fingers. I want you to cum in my mouth.” With a smirk — although you couldn’t see his face — Satoru raised his fingers to his lips and licked them, sampling a taste of what he would soon devour.

“You’re an asshole,” you swore. Satoru only laughed in response.

He then got down on his knees, getting in the perfect position to eat you out from behind, releasing your wrists so he could use both of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart. “You ready? Don’t hold back, okay?”

Feeling Satoru’s tongue against your clit resulted in a gasp of shock erupting from your throat, followed by a lengthy moan.

He didn’t eat you out like a gentleman, either.

He licked, sucked, and slurped at you like a starving man.

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pausing only to suck on it. He pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

Your combined moans were a beautiful sound he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. His moans in particular added a bit of vibration as he ate your pussy.

Satoru gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, massaging them. The sheer force of his lips and tongue working against your sensitive pussy made your body rock back and forth across the counter.

Damn him.

“Ah!” You moaned sharply. “Oh my – oh my god . . .”

The pleasure was indescribable.

He knew exactly how to work his tongue, and the magic that came with having your clit licked at and sucked on had you squirming your arms around, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to find anything to hold on to.

You accidentally knocked your drink off of the counter and onto the floor. It splattered, ice and soda spilling everywhere, but at the same time, your cum was starting to spill onto Satoru’s tongue.

That was all that mattered.

He smacked your ass once again as he felt you start to flood his mouth.

God, you tasted amazing. Better than the food he originally came into the fast-food restaurant to eat.

If he could, he would have eaten you out over and over again. Made you cum onto his tongue over and over again. One orgasm for every customer you mistreated.

But he was in a hurry, truthfully not wanting to push his luck when it came to having privacy.

And, at this point, his clothed dick was painfully hard.

Satoru rose to his feet.

Suddenly, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, your back against the counter this time.

Leaning over slightly, he placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. It was undoubtedly his favorite body part of yours.

His eyes darted down to the red framed name tag above your right breast.

“Y/N, huh? Cute name.”

Satoru unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down.

Lining the tip of his lengthy cock up with your hole, he said, “it’s nice to officially meet you. My name’s Satoru. Make sure you moan it for me, okay?”

Satoru started to fill you up perfectly. His rhythmic thrusts, quick, yet steady pace — it all made beautiful moans flutter from between your lips without a second thought.

You were no longer worried about getting caught. With every thrust, you found yourself unable to focus on anything that wasn’t related to being fucked by your annoying customer.

“Ah, Satoru,” you moaned and whimpered.

He gripped your hips, his blue eyes flickering between your pretty, fucked out face and your bouncing boobs.

He increased his speed — god, he wanted to cum so badly. Desperately.

His desire to fill you up resulted in him holding onto the plush of your hips a bit tighter, slamming in and out of you a bit faster.

Skin slapped against skin. His balls bounced off of your ass.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Just lie there and take it for me. Take it.”

He leaned over. His mouth hovered above your ear, thrusts never slowing, and he whispered, “my pretty girl can’t think about anything other than this dick, hm? All you know how to do is cum and moan, is that right?”

With a low moan of his own, Satoru slowly licked your left ear. Removing one of his hands from your hips, he gripped your right tit, slowly gliding his thumb over your hard, clothed nipple. Those perfect lips of his detached from your ear only to trail wet kisses down your neck. His index finger flicked at your nipple rapidly.

“Shit, I can’t wait to cum inside of you.” Satoru hooked his hand under your knee, pushing your leg back towards your chest, which made you feel his cock even deeper than before.

“Satoru . . . gonna cum again,” your pathetic warning was followed by a whine.

“Ah . . .” Beads of sweat pooled across Satoru’s forehead. “So close, I’m so close, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your tight pussy was milking his cock like you were both put on this earth for the sole purpose of fucking one another.

With a loud moan, Satoru’s steady thrusts staggered in rhythm, and he shot his big load inside of you. Never had he come so much — he was almost embarrassed by it, stuffing your hole so sinfully.

But then, your pussy clenched around him, and your second orgasm crashed upon you like an enormous wave, overwhelming your senses until you couldn’t do anything except moan, cum, and feel Satoru’s dick throb and spurt out his semen inside of you.

You were both breathless. Happily fucked out.

But as Satoru pulled you off of the counter, the lustful gaze within his blue eyes told you that he wasn’t finished with you yet.

“Get on your knees.”

How obedient you were, following his orders by dropping down on the black and white tiled floor. He could hardly believe you were the same woman who had the nerve to be snappy with him earlier. The same woman who purposely wouldn’t give condiments to annoying restaurant regulars.

When you opened your mouth without him telling you to, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his cock throbbed painfully.

“You’re such a good girl,” Satoru grinned, pumping his cock with his fist.

“Hurry,” you whined impatiently.

Satoru gripped the back of your head. He shoved his dick in your mouth.

Instantly, he started to thrust his dick down your throat, bucking his hips yet again as he had done several times throughout the night.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long,” he spoke sarcastically and breathlessly, tossing his head back. “I know how many times you’ve kept me waiting for my orders as a customer. Doesn’t feel so good, does it, sweetheart? To be kept waiting?”

With a moan, Satoru gripped your hair even tighter than before. Your warm and wet mouth was working wonders on his dick. He already dreaded the moment in which he’d have to stop face fucking you.

“Your mouth feels so good,” he closed his eyes in pure bliss. “I’m gonna cum again already.”

Spit dribbled out from the sides of your mouth. Your hands held onto his thighs. The big vein on the underside of his cock throbbed against your tongue as he moaned louder, thrusts growing sloppy.

His sweet and warm cum flooded your mouth.

“Swallow it. Fucking swallow it, baby. There you go.” Breathing unevenly as he came, he held your head still, not daring to take his cock out of your mouth until you swallowed every last drop. “That mouth was meant for swallowing my cum, not talking back to me. You understand me?”

You hummed around his cock in response. The vibrating sensation made his dick twitch, spurting out the last bit of his cum down your throat.

Satoru removed his dick from your mouth, but he only gave you a second to breathe, because suddenly, he leaned down and he replaced his cock with his tongue.

Still gripping your hair, he kissed you sloppily — filthily — creating a mixture of your combined spit and the remnants of his cum you hadn’t yet completely swallowed. The customer moaned just to show you how much he was enjoying the taste of your mouth. How he cherished the mess you were both making.

Eventually, Satoru pulled his tongue out of your mouth, ending the kiss with a quick bite at your bottom lip.

Like a gentleman, he helped you off of the floor.

You both started to put back on your removed clothing items or straighten out what had gotten disheveled.

“Are you still hungry?” You asked rather shyly, running your hands down your skirt, smoothing it out.

With a small laugh, Satoru said, “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot about the food.”

You washed up with low-quality soap and water as best as you could. The raggedy soap dispensers could surely use an upgrade.

Then, you made your way into the kitchen, preparing Satoru’s order as he waited patiently.

You gave him his hot bag of food with a soft smile.

Opening it, he saw plenty of napkins and condiments.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Grabbing the bag and his drink, he winked at you before he started walking away from the very counter he just finished fucking you across. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Okay,” your sad mumble — which was from the fact that he was leaving already — had quickly changed as you started to realize something. “Wait! You forgot to pay!”

Satoru wholeheartedly ignored you. Stepping through the exit doors, which dinged as he opened them, he left the fast-food restaurant and got into his car. Pulling out his phone, the man set a reminder to wipe tonight’s surveillance camera footage in the morning.

It was rather fortunate that he owned the restaurant.

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!