#god if only I had the energy to write this as a long fic

[foundress0fnothing]

and kisses are a better fate than wisdom

Summary: Feyre drags her sisters to Medieval Times to ogle the hot king. Nesta drags Emerie and Gwyn to Medieval Times for support and hater solidarity. And maybe to ogle some hot knights.

Rated E, Chapter 1/6, ~2.9k words

For @nessianweek ♥️

This fic is brought to you by an ER visit and antibiotics! I had intended to have the Nessian section of this complete, but then life kicked my ass, and so all I have to offer you today is a beginning. The Nessian smut chapter will be my next update to the fic, and then I’ll write chapters for all the other pairs (eventually and as the horny mood strikes).

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

“What the fuck, Feyre?” 

Nesta started in horror at the seemingly endless train of middle schoolers who were being led past the ticket window. Three jostled Nesta’s bag as they scuttled past, and she glared after them. Not that it did any good—they just dissolved into shrieking giggles as they careened around the space, narrowly missing the suit of armor standing in the corner of the large atrium. “Please tell me you didn’t have me call out of work for this.”

“Of course she didn’t, Nesta,” Elain said, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Our dear sister would only text us “Need you at the mall, personal emergency, please come ASAP” if it was for something really, really serious.” She looked pointedly at Feyre. “Right, Feyre?”

Feyre at least had the decency to look a little guilty. “He’s just…so hot, guys,” she mumbled, blushing.

“Oh my god.” Rolling her eyes, Nesta turned away from her sister’s embarrassed face to take in the spectacle that was apparently going to consume the next two hours of her life if the sign above the ticket window could be believed:

Brace yourself for approximately two hours of heart-pounding excitement! You’ll see lance-shattering jousting, clashing swordsmanship, and thrilling hand-to-hand combat! Join us for an unforgettable experience!

When Feyre told Nesta and Elain to meet her by the fake castle façade, Nesta had assumed it was only because it was easily recognizable and about as far away from Feyre’s waitressing job at the Cheesecake Factory as it could be while still technically being part of the mall. 

She did not expect that Feyre actually wanted her to spend time—not to mention 60 fucking dollars—in this tacky monstrosity. 

And “tacky” was a generous description of the space around her. Between the suit of armor in the corner, the display cases lining the room stuffed with replicas of weapons and garishly colored flags, and the entire wall devoted to headshots of all the idiots who were involved in the whole farce, Nesta found very little here that made her want to linger any longer than she absolutely had to.

But—it had been so long since her littlest sister had shown interest in anyone since she broke up with that god-awful trust fund manager Tamlin, and that interest, combined with Feyre’s palpable youngest sibling energy, softened Nesta enough to stay. Begrudgingly.

“It could be fun!” Feyre tried, but she was looking at the picture of whoever the “so hot” cast member was who prompted this nonsense in the first place as she said it, so Nesta didn’t trust her judgment anymore. She refused to look at the cast pictures. What use did she have for role-playing nerds or gym bros who used the guise of a medieval joust to hit at each other like brutes? No thanks.

She sighed and pulled out her phone to text her best friends and coworkers Emerie and Gwyn to take their lunch break and come over.  “I’m not about to suffer through this alone.” Their law office was only a few blocks away, and Nesta only felt the tiniest bit guilty about condemning them to a few hours of campy spectacle. What were friends for if not to hate watch something with you as a favor to your little sister?

That made Feyre turn away from the cast picture wall as she gestured indignantly between herself and Elain. “We’re here!” 

“You don’t count anymore, Feyre.”

“Well, what about Elain?”

Nesta scoffed lightly. “She’ll probably end up liking it somehow, and then I’ll have no one to complain with.” Elain stuck her tongue out although she didn’t deny it, and Nesta hummed in satisfaction at being right. She hadn’t missed the way Elain had also been looking at the wall of cast members, lingering for a few moments on the head shot of one of the knights who bore a distinctive red ponytail.

Nesta looked back at her phone and saw messages of confused confirmation from Emerie and Gwyn agreeing to meet her there, and so she went back to the ticket window to buy seats for them. Maybe she’d expense them—company bonding and all that bullshit.

By the time she returned to the corner where her sisters were standing, Gwyn and Emerie had joined them, and Nesta shook her head, forestalling the question that she could see forming on her friends’ lips. “Don’t ask.”

Emerie snorted. “You think I’m not going to have questions after you text us in the middle of the work day demanding that we take off and come to Medieval Times? Be serious Nesta.”

“Maybe she’s finally lost it,” Gwyn shrugged. “The Hybern case cracked her.”

“That case drives me to drink, not to willfully agree to a two hour long lobotomy.”

Feyre glared. “Stop being such a spoilsport. We’re here to ogle hot guys. You should be on board.”

“Hmmm, $60 to watch grown men play dress up and cover anything interesting with armor. Sign me up.”

An announcement overhead began, urging audience members to find their seats before the beginning of the show.

Feyre grinned and flicked her braid over her shoulder. “Well, good thing you already bought a ticket then, Nesta.” And with that, she hooked her arm around Elain’s, turned, and flounced into the darkened hall that led to the arena.

“Walked right into that one, babe.”

“Shut up, Em.”

Emerie flashed a smile and started following Feyre down the hall. “Do you think there’ll only be hot guys? Because that’s really gonna put a damper on the next two hours for me.”

“From a place like this?” Nesta gestured around to the kitschy, rustic decor. “I doubt we’re going to find any brave, gender-role defying performances here. I think the best you can hope for is a hot tavern wench.”

“Desperate times, I suppose.” Emerie sighed dramatically. “Perfect people must endure so much in this life.”

Gwyn giggled from where she was walking behind them. “And what would you know about that, Em?”

Emerie flipped her off without turning around, and Gwyn added, “But who knows? Maybe this’ll be great! Maybe we’ll find true lo—”

“Stop—don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Nesta stopped walking and turned to face Gwyn. You’re only here to be a hater with me.”

“Nesta—”

“No—this is a Valkyrie law office pact. You have to hate this with me. Don’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a guy in a tin can.” She whirled back around to Emerie. “Or a wench in too-tight stays. We’re better than that.”

Her friends nodded silently, and Nesta chose to ignore the knowing looks they gave each other in favor of turning back around and marching toward the opening to the arena. It was a large, airy room with rising wooden stands that ringed a sandy, clear oval in the middle of the space. There were oversize flags and banners hanging from the ceiling designating four different sections that corresponded to the different knights, and a dias, where the king would oversee whatever nonsense was about to happen.

Feyre and Elain had already grabbed their seats along a wooden, almost picnic-style bench in the first row of what was apparently the Red Knight’s section. Wenches were circulating, taking drink orders, and Nesta made sure to order a glass of wine—a large glass of wine—before she sat down. Needs must. Gwyn and Emerie quickly followed suit, and it wasn’t long before the lights in the stands dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd.

There was a distant stamping sound, and then all of a sudden, four knights on horseback burst out of a door at the far end of the arena, galloping around the perimeter of the arena. The audience erupted into cheers at the sight of the knights, and Nesta felt her mouth go dry.

Holy. Shit. 

She felt Gywn lean over to whisper in her ear. “Are we still better than that, Nesta? Because…” She trailed off, but Nesta didn’t need her to finish her sentence.

Because Holy. Fucking. Shit.

All but one of the knights weren’t wearing their helmets yet, and each one was intensely, unfairly gorgeous. 

There was the red and yellow knight whose long red hair streamed out behind him as he circled the arena. He was tall and wickedly handsome, even with a rough scar bisecting the left side of his face. Small charms and beads woven into individual strands caught the overhead lights and made him look like he was glowing with some inner light. 

The next knight was his opposite in every way. Clothed in black with accents of a deep blue, he seemed to swallow the light as he rode a lap around the arena. He was imposing and muscled and almost unfairly beautiful for a man. Especially for a man wearing fake armor, Nesta reminded herself, shaking her head and closing her mouth from how it had gaped open slightly at his appearance.

The green knight rode in after him, his helmet still on, and Nesta idly wondered why he alone would still be wearing his helmet. Was he self-conscious? Or just not a cocksure, handsome asshole like the first two knights? Whatever the reason, he was clearly an excellent horseman. His seat was agile and easy, and the two of them together moved like they were caught in some dance with music only they could hear. 

But Nesta didn’t have time to linger on why this knight was still wearing his helmet, or how well he rode a horse, because any thoughts she had were quickly replaced by the sight of the red knight. He was almost like a brother to the blue knight, but almost impossibly larger. It was as if he was made entirely of muscle—Nesta could see as much even with his armor covering almost everything except his neck and head. His skin was a deep brown and his hair, long and black and wavy, had been gathered into a messy half ponytail. He was a warrior, that much was clear, and Nesta had no idea how someone who looked like that could possibly exist in today’s world. He looked like Arthur, or Gawain, or Lancelot—someone from myths created centuries ago. 

“Shit, shit, shit there he is!” Feyre yanked on Nesta’s arm to drag her attention away from the red knight and point out—not subtly, mind you—the reason they were all here in the first place. The king who presided over the arena and the tournament had just stepped onto a platform situated against one of the walls. He was tall and dark-haired, and the kind of attractive that had from money written all over him. Not that someone who was from money would want to work at a place like this. But still—something about the smug smile and the glint in his eyes as he surveyed “his kingdom” made Nesta shudder slightly. No thanks. 

She turned a skeptical eye toward Feyre. “Him? Out of all of them?” She asked, gesturing to the knights who were bringing their horses to a rest in front of the dias. “You’re going with him?”

“What?” Feyre turned to Nesta in shock. “Do you have eyes?”

“Do you?”

Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest, turning back to look at the king. “He’s clearly the hottest one here.”

“Okay, Feyre,” Nesta said, pursing her lips and deciding to let the argument drop. If he did it for her sister, then so be it. 

She turned back to the center of the arena to see that all of the knights had come to a stop in a line. The crowd was murmuring, pointing at the assembled men and occasionally whooping for their assigned knight. The red knight was looking over at their section, his eyes locked on Nesta. When he realized that she saw him, he winked and gave a small bow with his head. Nesta scowled, ignoring the spark of interest that flared to life somewhere in her chest. She would not let herself be flustered by a Medieval Times actor. She wouldn’t. 

The king raised a hand, and the crowd quieted. “My loyal subjects!” His voice, low and smooth, boomed over the gathered crowds. “I am his Royal Majesty, King Rhysand. Thank you for joining me here today to watch as the heroic knights of the kingdom fight for honor and for glory.” 

Nesta looked at Emerie and Gwyn and raised her eyebrows at his theatrics. Gwyn giggled, and the king’s gaze flashed over to where they were seated, roving over their group until his eyes landed on Feyre. His smile at the sight of her was sickeningly self-satisfied, and Nesta turned to see Feyre flush at his attention. 

“I am honored that so many handsome lords and fair maidens,” he continued, winking at Feyre, “decided to join me to welcome my court today. I don’t yet have a queen to join me in my revels, but perhaps I shall find her amongst your number today.” Nesta watched as Feyre, impossibly, flushed even deeper. She rolled her eyes.

“That is, unless you lose your heart to one of my knights.” Rhysand gestured toward the knights in front of him. “My friends! Introduce yourself to my honored guests!”

One by one, the knights stepped their horses forward, bowed to Rhysand, and called out their names. Sir Lucien. Sir Azriel. It was like they were characters out of some long-forgotten medieval tale, their names at once ancient and eternal. If those were actually their real names. Nesta doubted it. 

The green knight stepped his horse forward, and Nesta wondered if he would finally take off his helmet. He obliged Nesta’s request, and she realized, as a thick braid of lustrous blonde hair dropped on the knight’s shoulder and their face, all softness and full lips, came into view, that this knight was a woman. 

Emerie’s mouth was hanging slightly open at the sight. She leaned across Gwyn to whisper, “Nesta, I love you and I know I said I wouldn’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a wench in stays but,” she said, her eyes never leaving the armored woman, “for a wench in armor? I don’t know you.”

And then it was the red knight’s turn. He bowed slightly to acknowledge the king and said, with a small smirk, “Sir Cassian, your majesty.” 

His voice washed over Nesta, deep and husky and filled with laughter, and she hated that something in her shivered at the sound of it and the sheer power it carried. She wondered, idly if that power extended to other areas of his life.

“And there you have it, my subjects!” The king’s voice rang out again, breaking her out of her rapidly devolving reverie. “Please give a warm welcome to my loyal knights as we begin our tournament!”

The crowd burst into cheers, and the knights smiled and waved at their respective sections, which, in their turn, cheered even more loudly until the entire arena was awash in sound. 

The red knight—Sir Cassian—was looking toward where they were sitting in his section, and, at his wave, Nesta’s sisters and traitorous friends burst into renewed applause and cheers. She took a sip of her wine, pointedly not joining in.

He frowned slightly, and she raised an eyebrow in challenge, taking another drink while maintaining eye contact. He looked away, and she smiled vindictively before turning to berate Emerie and Gwyn for caving so easily.

But before she could say anything, she was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and a deep, murmured, “My lady.”

Nesta turned, and there he was at the edge of the arena, sitting astride his giant horse and looking directly at her. He was nearly at eye level with her, even from her seat in the raised stand, and she was struck by just how tall he was. His hands, as they held his horse’s reins, looked massive as well, and she wondered, just for a moment, how they would feel spanning across her waist, her breasts, her—

She shook her head and scowled at him. “Me? No, thank you.”

He only smirked at her refusal before continuing on. “While it used to be tradition that maidens would give tokens to their favored knights before a tournament, here in the arena, it is the knights who give tokens to their ladies,” he said, pulling a red silken handkerchief out of a pocket somewhere—did suits of armor have pockets?—and held it out to her.

Nesta crossed her arms, reminded herself that he was just a guy in a tin can, and scowled. “I’m not your lady.”

“And yet, I still have a token for you.” He kept his arm outstretched and met her gaze. “Only you.”

His eyes—distractingly smudged with eyeliner—were a lovely shade of hazel, and they sparked with warmth and mirth as he looked at her. From this close, she could see that he had earrings as well—small red studs in each lobe and tiny golden hoops along his cartilage. He looked charming and wicked and roguish, and Nesta found that she couldn’t tear her gaze away—that she didn’t want to.

And, well, she was only human. Who could blame her for being interested? 

But she wouldn’t cave that easily, so she said, instead,  “Not until you earn it.”

Something flared in his eyes at the challenge, and he said, easily and certainly, “As my lady commands.” He left the red handkerchief on the table in front of Nesta and went to prepare for the tournament.

As he rode away, Feyre turned to her with a shit-eating grin. “Having fun yet, Nesta?”

“Shut up, Feyre.”

[eldritch-bf]

Danbert in The Thing (1982) expanded thoughts:

The two of them spend the winter down at outpost 31 during their final year of medical school for a work for credits situation under the guidance of Dr’s Blair and Copper.

Herbert, watching MacReady lose to the computer in chess from across the room. “I could take him.” Dan, looking up from his book. “In chess, right?”

Herbert gets up and does challenge MacReady to a game of chess however they get interrupted by the commotion of the Norwegian helicopter.

Dan primarily studies under Dr Copper (the physician who insists on going to the Norwegian camp to help them despite the weather risk) and brings Dan along with him to investigate the camp with MacReady.

Herbert primarily studies under Dr Blair (biologist who performs the autopsy on what they bring back from the Norwegian camp)

Herbert is initially disinterested in the other camp and advises against Dan going because he assumed they had all just experienced psychotic breaks and they might be dangerous. Dan and Dr Copper ignore him.

Dan and Herbert are however immediately aware that something is NOT right with the Thing Dog because unlike every other animal including the other sled dogs, this “animal” shows Herbert indifference. Though they have no idea why.

Herbert assists with the autopsy of the burnt humanoid brought back from the Norwegian camp and can barely contain his curiosity and excitement. Later Herbert wakes Dan up in the middle of the night and drags him to the autopsy room and makes him study the cells and the interactions with the reagent. Dan is very tired and wants to sleep.

The Dog Thing absorbing the other dogs scene takes place and Herbert again helps with that autopsy and MacReady notices how much of a little weirdo he is, and afterwards confronts Dan about it, asking him if he thinks Herbert is dangerous or can even be trusted. Dan hesitated and poorly explains away Herbert’s behavior. MacReady doesn’t trust either of them.

More late night science, though now MacReady is Suspicious.

Herbert really really wants to see if the reagent can reanimate the dead Things but Dan scienceblocks to the best of his ability

MacReady notices them in the lab and witnesses a tender moment between them and concludes more or less correctly that that’s the origin of their strange behavior (though it’s also because Herbert is still keeping the reagent a secret).

Blair runs the computer simulation, to which Herbert is a witness to, and finally becomes concerned about the Thing, primarily because he doesn’t want to die down there. Subplot is that Herbert is frustrated no one listens to him because he’s just a kid compared to the rest of them. (MacReady particularly loves calling both of them “kid”) And so he highly doubts these dumb ass men can keep them safe.

Herbert tests a few Thing cells under a microscope with the reagent and it does indeed work just as normal. Dan points out that this doesn’t actually help them in any meaningful way except for satisfying Herbert’s curiosity to which Herbert basically says “that’s the whole point” and Dan gets so frustrated he storms out, leaving Herbert alone, which makes Herbert, still slightly paranoid that at least one member of the crew is the thing, to follow along with Dan, apologize, and insist on staying together every moment possible.

Blair has his breakdown, destroying the vehicles and radio equipment to prevent escape, Herbert is nearly killed as a result, similar to Palmer, before running and alerting everyone. The station crew then lock Blair in the shed.

Dr Copper is killed while trying to save “Norris” from his heart attack, leaving Dan and Herbert the best physicians and biologists available to them. Herbert agrees with MacReady’s idea to use the hot needle on the blood. No one really trusts Herbert or MacReady at this point which makes Childs even more convinced the test is horseshit and that Herbert and or MacReady are clearly the thing and Dan defends Herbert by saying “no he’s always like this trust me”

They all pass except Palmer who famously fails the test, infects Windows, and MacReady incinerates them while Herbert drags Dan out of the room and decides they need to get out before this thing kills every last one of them.

Dan and Herbert stay behind with Childs, packing up and arming themselves just in case, while the others go to test Blair.

Dan questions how they’ll escape since Blair destroyed the equipment and after some discussion away from Childs, the two of them correctly anticipate that the Thing will likely sabotage the power on the station in order to hinder the team from finding it (they don’t know about the spaceship it’s constructed yet)

Dan and Herbert head off to the power generator and wait for the Blair-Thing which quickly shows up and they manage to kill it without destroying the station, leaving Cain, West, MacReady, Childs, Nauls, and Garry alive.

Herbert and MacReady finally have their game of chess though it ends in a stalemate to which Herbert poorly hides his irritation and MacReady reveals he knew all about him and Dan yet at the same time he does compliment Herbert for helping save them. The six of them wait out the rest of winter until rescue comes.

[purplecoffee13]

The Silent Type*

Summary: “Harry, the quiet guy in the office, has silently admired you during your time working for the firm. Now that your work there is done, Harry finds that he can’t let you go just yet…”

Wc: 5k

Tropes: colleagues (ceorry/nerdrry)

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, daddy kink, switch sub/dom dynamics, oral, choking

A/N: SUP Y’ALL!!!! God I have just been waiting to be able to write again! I still have some exams coming up next week, but I spent all evening writing this one shot because I have been dying to get back into it😋 This is my first time writing a more subrry tinted fic, so I hope you enjoy it!

General Masterlist

if you want to support me more than liking or sharing, you can consider buying me a coffee!

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Harry has never been one to talk much.

It is one of the reasons why he chose the career of software developing. Most of it, he could do on his own.

It wasn't so much that Harry hated people, he just preferred his own company. More people tend to complicate things, and Harry is a more logical guy.

That was until he met you.

About three months ago, the company for which Harry worked had started their expansion, and he was to lead the people transferred to that section of the firm. With the expansion also came new employees, and that’s where you came in.

You had been temporarily hired by the company to weed out applicants, and assist the current HR manager to help with the job interviews.

Harry still remembers that first day when you walked into the office, all nervous and fidgety. He had spotted you through the glass walls of his office, and couldn't physically tear his eyes off of you.

It wasn't until your third day helping in the office, that you actually met Harry. You had no idea what to think of him. Well, besides the obvious, of course. He was ridiculously handsome, and from the way he was staring at you, you figured that maybe he was thinking something like that about you too.

But he didn't talk.

Your first time meeting consisted of nothing but a gruff 'nice to meet you' from Harry's side, and no input in the rest of the conversation whatsoever. It was only a couple days later, when you asked the HR manager about it, that you found out that's just how he was, that he didn't really talk to anyone. From that moment on, there had been a surge of motivation to let him make you the one exception.

Harry was just fascinated by you, and he had no idea why. You were a ball of energy, talking so fast you'd think someone had clicked on your 'sped up' button, and you were chaotic, all over the place. The amount of times he watched you bump into people was impossible to keep count of.

Then, one day, you bumped into him. It should have angered him, the spilt coffee on his pants. But he had an extra suit, and you looked so worried, he didn't want to make you feel worse. You still felt bad, though, so you decided to make it up to him, and started getting him coffee every morning.

By the end of the first week, he looked you in the eyes when he thanked you. By the end of the fourth, he'd ask you how you are and recall things you'd told him. By the end of sixth, he told you things about his life, and by the end of the tenth week, you were having longer conversations with him.

It was difficult to keep up the small talk with him in the beginning. You soon found out that his lone wolf attitude may had something to do with his awkwardness. You thought, perhaps people weren't willing to work through that, and eventually he just stopped trying.

Such a prospect made you sad, and it only motivated you more to get to know him better. Of course, the longing glances, and standing unnecessarily close to each other with his knuckles barely touching your arm, those things helped too.

There was an undeniable tension between the two of you that you found incredibly difficult to decipher. The way he'd let you catch him looking at you gave it away quite clearly, but the lack of any real initiative confused you.

Had you read it all wrong? Did he even think there was something there too?

Unfortunately, there was no way to find out, as your assignment at the company was coming to an end. Today had been your last day, and tonight is a launch party to officially celebrate the expansion of the company.

You were a little sad to leave the company, especially since you really liked the people working there. It is why you are most excited for tonight.

Wearing a long yellow dress—it is your favorite color—you stride into the building. You are mesmerized by all the balloons and how pretty everyone looks. Wearing expensive suits or classy dresses. You immediately realize you might be a bit too happily dressed; everyone is wearing darker colors.

It does make it easy for everyone to spot you, though. By the time you've gotten your drink, five people have already walked up to you. About half an hour into the party, the CEO of the company takes the stage to give a small speech.

"I would like to thank everyone who has participated in making this expansion go as smoothly as it did. Your work does not go unnoticed." He says through the microphone. Everyone claps for a few seconds, and the man waits to go on until it is quiet again.

"Now, I have a special announcement to make. I have wanted to make this expansion happen since I began working for this company in 1988. Now that I finally have, I feel that my job at this firm is done. And so, I have decided to retire from my position as CEO."

Your eyes widen at the speech; you had no idea this was even a thing. By the sound of the gasps and murmurs traveling through the room, you deduce that the news is unexpected for the rest of the company as well.

"It is also with great pride that I present the new CEO of our company, chosen after careful consideration. If mr. Harry Styles could please join me on stage."

Your mouth falls open at the mention of Harry's name, and you are certain you will never be able to close it again when you see him walking onto the stage. He wears a black suit, perfectly tailored to his body, and the sight of him has you concerned that you may be drooling.

The bald man hands the microphone to Harry, who does not look very pleased to be on stage; it almost seems like he is regretting his decisions. Until his eyes meet yours, that is when you see him let out a breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson." He says, breaking eye contact to look at his former boss.

Right, that was his name, Johnson.

"I look forward to leading this company into more successes, and I promise that I will put my heart and soul into it. I have worked at this firm ever since I graduated college and they offered me a job during my internship, and it is safe to say that I have not regretted that decision a day of my life. I have always been loyal to this company, and I will remain loyal to you. Thank you."

You are perplexed. Why did he never tell you about this? You are very happy for him, but you do find it weird. It also makes you doubt again. Did whatever you had been building up the last months not mean as much to Harry as it did to you?

Well, it doesn't really matter, you're gone after tonight anyway.

Once the shock of the news has calmed down a bit, the party resumes as normal. Most people visit Harry one by one to congratulate him on the position, but you steer clear from him. It is no use, after tonight you will probably never see him again anyway.

Time passes, and you think you're ready to go home. There was a file in the office you forgot to sign earlier today, so you head up to do that first. The office is entirely dark when you walk out of the elevator. It's kind of eerie, so you are quick to turn on the lights.

It takes you a few minutes to find the file, since the receptionist placed it on someone else's desk. You find it on your colleague's desk, and walk over to the receptionist desk to sign it. Laying it on the keyboard of her computer, you pray that she won't displace it again, and make your way back to the elevators.

A loud shriek escapes you when Harry suddenly walks around the corner. He covers his ears at the high pitched sound, shocked by how much he scared you. With your hand on your chest you try and steady your breathing.

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, didn't mean to." He says, a bit of worry in his tone. You look up at him.

"What are you even doing up here?"

"I was looking for you." He shrugs.

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrow, that same old tension in your stomach settling like it does every time Harry looks at you for longer than two seconds.

"You've been avoiding me." He answers casually, and you feel your heart drop. You didn't think he'd catch onto it.

"Congratulations by the way, for being the CEO. That was definitely a surprise." There is a bitterness in your tone. It is Harry's turn to frown. He hears the condescension, but his mind can't seem to come to a conclusion. Why are you angry? It's so hard to tell.

This is why he doesn't do people.

"You're mad that I am CEO?" He guesses, and your mouth falls open, much like it did when Harry's new position got announced.

"What?! Of course not! I'm very happy for you." You sputter out. The last thing you'd want him to think is that you don't want him to be happy or satisfied or successful.

"But you're still avoiding me." He repeats slowly. "You know, I didn't tell you about it because no one was supposed to know. I had to sign for it and everything. It's nothing personal."

The painful grip that his potential distrust in you had on your heart releases at the sound of his words. You could have known that it was due to something like that, you work in HR after all. That fact alone makes you realize how invested you unknowingly had become in Harry.

"I...I figured." You give him a weak smile. Harry's eyes search for yours, holding onto your gaze once he has found it. You stay like that, staring at each other for a while until you break the silence.

"I'm heading home. I don't think I'll see you again, so good luck. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."

With much difficulty, you manage to look away from Harry and walk past him. At least, you try to, because halfway through, Harry's hand grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks, looking back at the man who stopped you. The man who has been sending you mixed signals for the past few months.

"D– do you want to join me in my office?"

You refrain from the shiver that threatens to run down your entire body, and nod. Harry's hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he intertwines his fingers with yours before he leads you to the glass doors that belong to him. On your way there, he flicks off the lights, leaving the two of you in the dark.

The city lights light up the otherwise pitch dark office that belongs to Harry, for now. He will be moved to the CEO's office when he starts his new position.

You don't say anything as Harry closes the door, or as he walks to the closet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. You wait in anticipation of what he's going to do.

But then he sits down. He just sits down on his chair.

You stand there, staring at him, utterly confused about this man and his intentions with you, while he obliviously pours the whiskey into the glasses. In that moment, there is a switch inside of you, one that says: fuck it. This is your last day, you need a way to release this pent up tension, and you probably won't see him ever again after this. What have you got to lose? Nothing.

You walk over to the desk and sit down on it, extremely close to Harry. The split of your dress shows your bare, freshly shaved leg, and he seems to notice. His eyes pull to your legs like magnets, and he has to force himself to look you in the eyes as he hands you the glass of whiskey.

You try your best not to smirk at the effectiveness of your plan, focusing on your next move instead. Straight for the kill.

"So, why am I here, Harry?" You ask nonchalantly, taking a sip of your whiskey. It tastes quite strong, and it takes you a lot of effort not to have an expressive reaction to it.

"What?" He asks, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Why'd you take me here?" You ask again, setting down your glass at the table before moving to stand in front of him. "To admire the view?"

Harry looks out the window, but his head shoots back to you when he notices you're sinking onto your knees in front of him. He thinks he may have forgotten to breathe as he observes the lustful look in your eyes. His eyes travel down to your tits, even more visible from this angle.

"Because I've admired it every day for the past three months." You continue. Harry swallows, frozen by the overload of his brain and the sensitivity of the growing constraint in these pants. "Why don't you take your pants off for me? Just enough to give me your cock. I like you in this suit."

Harry doesn't let another second fly by before he is unbuckling his pants, sliding it down just enough for you to have access to his cock and his balls. Your mouth waters at the size and girth of it, your cunt getting wetter with every passing moment.

You shimmy forward, leaning over his cock and grabbing it with your hand. Harry sighs at the minimal contact, making you feel even more powerful. Looking up at him through your lashes, you ask him one more question.

"You'll hold my hair, won't you?"

With that, you take Harry in your mouth as far as you can, before pulling away from him. A gasp leaves his mouth, and his eyes fall shut as you pump him with your hand while your mouth kisses and sucks on the head of his cock. You begin licking and kissing down his cock, while your hand softly feels up his balls.

Harry feels like he is in heaven already, and he forgets everything around him. It is only when you completely remove yourself from him that he opens his eyes again, and he sees. Catching on quickly, he leans forward and gathers your hair, twisting it around his palm.

Satisfied with Harry's obedience, your mouth attaches itself to his cock again. You take him slowly, teasingly, and move your head up and down. With every movement, you take him an inch deeper.

"Oh, f–fuck!" He groans out when you gag on him because you took yourself too far too fast. You steady your breathing, which is a bit more complicated as you can only breathe out your nose. You resume sucking him off for a bit longer, bobbing your head down a bit faster. The small sounds that leaves Harry's lips, along with his scrunched up face, gives you enough indication that he is approaching his climax.

So you remove your mouth from his cock.

He lets out a whine at the loss of contact. If your panties weren't wet before, they certainly are now. You smile at the state of him; desperate and needy for you. The fact that you've managed to make him fall apart like this makes you incredibly horny.

"I want to take all of you in my mouth, daddy." You tell him, looking up at him with your big eyes. "You'll have to help me."

You went out on a bit of a limb when you decided to call him daddy, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, Harry's eyes light up and his jaw slacks at the mention of the pet name.

"Shit– anything, sweetheart. Whatever you need." He croaks out.

"I need you to fuck my mouth." You respond sternly, not wasting any time and taking him between your lips again. You push yourself down his cock as far as you can, breathing deeply before moving your hand to Harry's hand, which is holding onto your hair, and pushing your head forward to indicate that he needs to push his cock down your throat.

Again, it doesn't take him long to listen, because Harry's hips thrust forward, his dick gliding into your throat. You moan at the force with which he pushed, and keep your mouth wide open as you let Harry navigate your head.

Once he fully understands that you are allowing him to let him use your mouth, the true fun begins. With the firm grip he has on your head, he pushes you up and down at an ungodly speed. Your jaw is already tiring from its locked position, but you power through it because the sounds that leave Harry's mouth make up for it.

"Fuck baby, such a good mouth. Never had anything like this... Jesus!" He pants out as he begins to thrust up into your mouth, and you feel like you might pass out. Suddenly, he pulls you away from his dick.

You frown, and realize as he is grabbing for a tissue that he is avoiding messing up your face. You don't stand for it, though, and wrap your lips around his cock again just in time for him to come inside your mouth. You take him deeper and feel the way his sperm shoots in the back of your throat.

"Fuck! Shit, shit..." The not so wide arrange of curse words are the only thing Harry is capable of saying as he dumps his load inside your mouth. The fact that you were so adamant about having his sperm in your mouth made his orgasm even more intense.

Your mouth lets go of his cock with an exaggerated plop, and you swallow every last bit of him, grinning at his fucked out face.

"That was... amazing." He sighs, his gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. You hum in agreement, and get up from the floor as he pulls up his pants. You are about to walk away, when Harry grabs your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." You answer with a smile, but Harry's grip on you only tightens. He shakes his head, his lips pouting.

"No, you need to stay. Let me make you feel good too." He protests. You squint your eyes at him.

"I don't need to do anything."

Harry's eyes widen. "You're right. But just let me make you feel good before you go, please? It's the least I can do."

Your mouth slowly forms into a grin, glad to have him where you want. Well, almost.

"Beg me."

Harry scoffs. "Are you serious? I don't really do begging."

You shrug, smiling at him. "That's fine. My vibrator can get me off too."

You take a few steps towards the door, while Harry contemplates his decisions. However, those were all clouded by the sole moment to please you the second you mentioned your vibrator. The image of you getting off like that is too much to bear. He needs to do it for you.

"Stop." He says. You turn around, and walk back to him as he gets out of his chair and gets on his knees. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you closer, his nose digging into your dress. His hands run up and down your legs, and it is making you weak in your knees.

"Please, let me eat you out baby. I'll do anything to make you feel good. I need to taste you so bad, please let me pleasure you."

You swallow, eyelids ready heavy, as you sigh out. "Alright."

Harry grins at your admittance of defeat, and stands up. He leads you to sit on his desk, your dress hiked up. He removes the stuff behind you, so that you can lean back entirely in case you want to, and waltzes over to his chair.

Spreading your legs, he rolls himself closer to you, and assesses your soaking wet panties. Chuckling, he leans to the side and grabs a pair of scissors, before he cuts the skimpy material from your body. You'd say something of it, but the sight of him admiring your pussy like this is too fascinating to interrupt. So, you keep quiet.

When Harry's thumb suddenly presses on your clit and begins to rub it, you can't help but gasp. His touch feels too good, and that blowjob got you really worked up.

"You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this." Harry says, marveling at how reactive you are being.

"Me too."

His eyebrows rise up. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby."

You bite your lip, too obsessed with the pet name he's given you. It sounds so sexy coming from his mouth. He awaits your response with bright eyes, lazily rubbing your clit.

"Your arms... I'd think about them so much. And your hands, I'd imagine you choking me with them. They're so big..." You begin, and you know that you could go on for hours if you had to tell him about everything you've thought about doing with him, or doing to him.

Harry doesn't say anything, instead responds with two fingers entering your pussy. You moan at the feeling of his large fingers pumping in and out of you. It feels way fuller than your hand already. His two fingers is the equivalent of your three fingers.

"We can definitely make those fantasies come true..." Harry says softly. "But first, let's make you come, hmm?"

You nod, your head falling back and allowing yourself to fully indulge in the pleasure Harry's giving you right now. You let yourself lay on his desk, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

"Fuck, that feels good– oh fuck!" You shriek out when Harry tongue begins attacking your tongue after he adds a third finger. He speeds up the movements of his hand to match those of his tongue, and holds onto that tempo until your mind can't conjure up any more words to speak to him.

With the control entirely out of your hands, you let Harry guide you to your orgasm, which washes over your body like a tidal wave. You unconsciously push Harry's head further into your pussy with your legs. With an arched back, you moan at the sensitivity of your clit.

Harry lets you take a minute to catch your breath before he pulls on your arms to have you sit up straight. He is smiling sweetly at you, and your heart warms at it.

"You okay?" He asks, kissing your hands. You nod, trying to ignore the flutters in your heart at the way he is being so gentle.

"Thank you for letting me make you feel good, baby." He says, getting up and leaning into your face. His nose brushes against your cheek as he plants his lips on yours. Your arms wrap around Harry's neck as you kiss him deeper, too caught up in how good he feels and how much you want him.

You're never this greedy. You've never felt like you needed a man's cock inside of you. Like it was the only feasible option. You feel it driving you crazy, and you're sure it is the only reason you say— no, ask:

"Please, fuck me."

The grin that forms on Harry's lips makes you feel like you should regret what you said. A grin like that usually belongs on your face in situations like these. But you need him so bad, you don't really care that you are the desperate one this time.

"Oh, you're begging now too, huh?" He says cockily. You glare at him, pissed that he's acknowledging your neediness and mocking you for it too.

"It's alright baby, I'll give it to you. 'M cock's already hard again from watching you come like that. So fucking sexy..." He says. He pulls his pants down and lifts you off the table, turning you around to the glass windows and pushing your hands against them. "Bend over a bit and speak your legs for me, baby."

You do as he says, biting your lip at Harry's hand that pushes away your dress and roams over your ass. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes himself into you, sighing in pure relief. You shut your eyes tightly at the size of him filling you up.

"Fuck, you feel good baby." He says, slowly beginning to move in and out a bit. You let out a soft 'yes', causing Harry's jaw to clench. He spanks your ass, watching as it bounces from the impact, and his cock twitching at your yelp.

"Perfect fucking ass... perfect fucking girl, aren't you?" He groans, now lazily thrusting into you. He wants to give you time to adjust, but he learns your wishes when you begin to push yourself back into him.

"Ah, I see. Greedy girl wants to speed things up, hmm? Your wish is my command." He mocks, but does speed up his pace. His hands hold your waist as he begins to pound himself into you, your ass shaking at the impact. He spanks your ass again for good measure, obsessed with the way it moves.

You nearly lose yourself in how good it feels, but you know that he can get deeper than this.

"I want to ride you... want to feel you in my tummy." You spit out, hoping he understands what you're saying in your croaky voice.

Harry listens, pulling himself out of you immediately and taking a seat in the chair. You turn around and walk over to him, throwing your legs on both sides of his lap, before grabbing his cock and sinking yourself down on it.

It goes smoother this time, but Harry's really deep now, just like you wanted. The sensation is everything to you, and it isn’t hard to tell how good it feels for him too. Glad to have a bit of the control back, you start to bounce on his cock.

Harry’s eyes travel over your body, fascinated by the way you are moving above him. His hands travel to the straps of your dress and push them down until he can get your tits out of the top part of your dress. He begins to massage them as you keep impaling yourself on his dick over and over again.

"Fuck, daddy, you feel so good... so good for me. Listening to me. Knew this was the best way to fuck you... you love it." You slur happily. Harry nods profusely at your words, jaw clenched and moaning out in pleasure.

"Yes, needed it so bad baby. You're fucking daddy so good..."

You smile at how caught up Harry looks in his pleasure, like he doesn't know what to do with it. You, however, do know what to with it. You grab one of his hands and wrap it around your throat, before you do the same to him. With his hand on your neck and yours on his, you begin to fuck him as fast as you can.

"Ah, fffuck... shit! Holy shit!" He yells out, and automatically thrusts himself up into you, reaching an even further level of deepness you had never thought possible. That along with your hands on each other’s necks, is enough to know that your climaxes are near.

"Come inside me daddy." You pant out, and he does. It is as if your permission set him off. You smile in delight at the feel and knowledge of his cum being so deep inside of you.

You fuck Harry through his orgasm, and even after. He squirms in his seat. "Wait— too sensitive."

"I don't care, I haven't come yet. Don't you want to make me feel good? Have me coming around your thick cock?" You say sensually, and Harry nods. "Words."

"Yes– fuck! I want you to come, please come around my cock. Please, please..." He begins to beg, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Your toes curl at his whiny voice, and soon your juices are gushing all over his cock. Your pussy contracting around him seems to set Harry off even more, as you feel even more sperm spraying out of his dick and into your walls.

You ride out your high until you can't move anymore. You sit there, forehead pressed against Harry's as you both come down from what just happened.

After a minute or two, you decide to pull out. Slowly but surely, you manage to get Harry's dick out of you without hissing too much at the sensitivity of every single body part down there.

You lean against the desk, too wobbly to stand on your own, and you let Harry wipe you clean with the tissues on his desk. After cleaning himself up, he stands up and positions himself in front of you.

"Hey." He says. Your hand cups his jaw and your thumb wipes away the tear that is far down his face now.

"Hi." You tilt your head. The both of you burst out laughing, still surprised by what went down just now.

"That was really good." He says once the laughter has died down. You nod in agreement.

"Good enough for a repeat?"

Harry pretends to think it over, before he responds: "under one condition."

"And what would that be?" You quirk up an eyebrow, intrigued by his vagueness. He smiles at you so wide that you wonder if his mouth might be hurting.

"You let me take you out on a date first."

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be amused as he chuckles at your reaction. But the second you see the look on his face and the sincerity behind it, you realize that he is being quite serious about this request. You bite your lip, wanting to kiss him right then and there.

"I would love that."

[bunny-lily]

Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise. 

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

[iznsfw]

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace. 

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.” 

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive. 

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her. 

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing. 

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing. 

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation. 

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps. 

You don’t. 

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

-

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

-

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks. 

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore. 

i miss you 

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t. 

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her. 

What you’d give to have good sex like that again. 

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name: 

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away. 

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea. 

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past. 

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply. 

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family. 

Stop texting me or I’ll block you. 

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her. 

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright��what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast. 

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door. 

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink. 

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed. 

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything. 

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away. 

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again. 

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know. 

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth. 

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen. 

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair. 

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past. 

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that? 

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone. 

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed. 

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck. 

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her. 

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” 

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips. 

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her. 

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder. 

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you. 

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?” 

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you. 

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb. 

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear. 

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal. 

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically. 

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste. 

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

 It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food. 

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?” 

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together. 

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers. 

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief. 

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips. 

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity. 

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit. 

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again. 

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her. 

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt. 

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again. 

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too. 

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet.  “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.” 

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white. 

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears. 

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming.  This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt. 

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it. 

The tears finally fall from her eyes. 

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…” 

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her. 

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes. 

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby. 

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

-

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying. 

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you. 

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say. 

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

[kyumisyumi]

HI!!! Love your work!!

Is it possible for you to write a fic where the monster is just too big for the reader but the monster is in rut or some sort of overbearing horniness so they coax the reader open to be able to take all of them

So sorry this took forever, life was life-ing. Job hunting and the works. Happy I could finally finish my first request here.

Warning: nsfw tags: heat, double penetration, fisting-ish, we're all just animals at the end of the day

Ship: Naga x Reader (F)

Word count: 800+ words

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

You were so good for him. Always so good; wet and soft and absolutely divine. He never mind that you couldn't take both of his cocks, just having one in you was enough to drive him damn near feral. His mind threatening to slip into an animalistic haze begging him to fuck you until every last drop of energy -and cum-  in him was gone. Now, however, things were different. The season's arrival brought with it the an aphrodisiac than burned inside his veins. The overwhelming need to breed you - and breed you proper- was pushing him beyond reason. Beyond thought even. His ears filled with the ringing of need and the only thing that could pierce it was the sweet sounds of your moans.

"Please." You didn't even know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For him to start? He'd been fucking you with his fingers for what felt like eons. His long, firm digits sliding in you effortlessly as their tips pressed against the spongy little spot that seemed to disconnect your brain. Your thighs and the plush sheets beneath were absolutely drenched in slick leaking out of your swollen cunt. You didn't even know how you got here; one moment you were tending to the houseplants that sat by the living room window, the next moment you were being pulled into a tight reptilian coil. One blink later; your clothes were gone and a long, forked tongue was tasting you.

You cursed as his fingers pulled wider and wider, finally letting in the fifth digit. Your back arched as he slowly pushed forward with his whole arm. You could feel your insides mold to the shape of his muscles. Did you just come? Your senses were absolutely fried from overstimulation. But the pulsing of your walls eventually caught up to you, bringing with it the jolts of pleasure that wracked your whole body. Pretty little tears began to spill from your eyes again as you searched for him through blurry vision. So weak and overwhelmed that you needed the visage of him for comfort. Your brain didn't care that he was the one causing it.

His eyes almost glowed as he peered down at you, the once thin slits of his pupils expanded, almost fully concealing the color. He looked mad. The pearly whites of his eyes tinted red along the edges. Bloodshot. He was lost. He looked as if he hadn't blinked in years, as if even the milliseconds it would take to close his lids were too long to not look at you.

"Are you ready for me, Love?" He spoke for the first time in ages. Voice raspy, dry, as though all moisture had been sucked from him. "Of course you are." He answered, with zero input from you, not that you could even muster words at this point. "So fucking perfect." He pulled his hand out of you. His eyes finally left you to look at the glistening moisture that covered it then at your thoroughly abused hole. His forked tongue absentmindedly licked your taste off his fingers. He began muttering to himself. Your concern for his sanity grew. You could barely hear his words; praises and coos for you. Thanking the Gods for bringing you to him. Making you for him.

When he raised himself on his tail you could see the leaking tips of his engorged members. Both of them pressing against his abdomen, twitching as though they were ready to spill seed at any moment. He positioned himself between your trembling thighs, one hand squeezing both cocks together. You'd yet to realize his intentions before you felt the dual tips slip into you. You opened your mouth to say something. What? Again, you weren't sure. But when he slowly began to push himself further and further inside you your vocal chords released a ferine moan.  You could feel your walls stretch to hold him, like a fulfilling pressure rather than the straining pain you'd expected. That scared you so much you never tried prior. He lowered himself over you, elbows bent on either side of your limp form. His eyes refocused, studying every minute movement of your face.

There was no patience in him, all of it spent. He'd bottomed out in you before you'd even realised it. His hips smashing against your pelvis with a loud groan. His chest pressed into yours with every breath. He'd give you a moment and only a moment before the thrusting began. You'd felt full before but it couldn't compare to what you feel now. The raw connection of having him inside you; not his fingers, not his tongue, not his hand but his manhood sheathed within you where it belonged. Nothing felt more right, it was both intoxicating and sobering. Pleasure would always be pleasure but this was something more.

You were reduced to cries and mewls as you both devolved into animals.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (End)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

(There will be a short epilogue after this, but we’ve basically reached the end! Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! I had so much fun writing it!!!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“ADAM!”

Light from below your feet rose, blinding you as the glassy exterior of Heaven’s floor dissolved into nothing. 

     The collective screaming, gasping, shouting made your ears ring. It was so loud that you had no choice but to drop the ax to muffle the sound with your hands. Lucifer called for you, but you could do nothing as your senses became overloaded with the sights, the sounds — the smell and taste of angel blood that you couldn’t describe, though it fizzled on your tongue and made your lips pucker. 

Falling reminded you of diving into the deep end of a pool as everything around you started to dull just as soon as it reached a fever pitch. 

      Adam’s corpse bled out, gold dripping into the firelight that swallowed you up. 

      Sera stood head and shoulders above the rest, shrunken pupils flashing upon you. 

      Thunder rumbled over your skin. 

Your sight returned, revealing a billow of darkened clouds above. Lightening rippled through them here and there, but you found yourself unable to do so much as shiver at the close proximity. Something was keeping you paralyzed, hands still clasped over your ears and legs still stuck flexing as they had when you decapitated Adam. 

     Eyes flitting about, the only things free from the forced stillness, you saw that the light that overtook you had expanded, surrounding you like a forcefield. 

   This wasn’t a fall. Not really. Whatever this was was yanking you down with a strength that rivaled gravity.

You can never come back!

              You can never come back!

                              You can never come back!

Sera’s voice was immediately overtaken by your name, shouted out from above you. 

Feathers thrown in disarray, raining on and all around you before you caught sight of Lucifer racing toward you. The frightening sound of a boom like the aftermath of a bomb dropping followed his propulsion, rattling your bones and shifting the energy that cocooned you. 

      He circled round and round the energy field that you could not escape, until he was right beside you. 

Lucifer slammed himself against the barrier between him and yourself. Determination set in his eyes that were now completely normal, totally focused on getting through to you. 

     You tried to communicate the fear you felt with your eyes. It was steadily consuming you as you remained frozen while color and light changed every few seconds. Everything outside of your comet’s tail was growing darker and harder to define. 

     When darkness swallowed up the Devil, you weren’t able to scream. 

“I got ya!” 

Lucifer’s voice broke through before you saw him, crashing into the barrier once again. The light shattered like glass, but you felt solid arms wrapped around your body. Familiar hands gripped you around the shoulders and back, beneath your frozen wings. 

      You gasped, inhaling greedily. 

The blond took your desperate bid to wrap your arms around his neck and press him as close to you as possible in stride. 

      It was a struggle to speak. “I couldn’t breathe!”

“I know! I know, I know, I remember it being like that.” Lucifer said, hand running through your hair. “But it's gonna be okay! The pain won’t last for too long after you hit the ground.” 

You looked at him with watery eyes, lungs burning. “Oh god, Lucifer. I’m so sorry!” 

You hugged him with renewed vigor, tears streaming upward. He clung onto you with equal if not more fervor. 

      “You’re sorry?” He asked. “What d’you… why?” 

When you pulled away, Lucifer was staring at you in concern. 

“I’m sorry you have to experience this again.” You said. “I didn’t even think about it. I-I-I just, I got so desperate and I just wanted out and I wanted to be with you! I didn’t think—”

The devil instantly shook his head, hand cupping your cheek. “No, no, no. It’s okay, don’t apologize. There’s no reason to—hah…” 

     Lucifer was also in tears, giving you a wobbly smile. “I’d fall every day until the end of time for you.” 

You fell into him then, sobbing in earnest as he kept up with you serenely. You were both careening down through the ether, free falling now that your body had been freed from whatever was initially binding you. And you didn’t have a single thought aside from staying with this perfectly wonderful being that had had the audacity to actually love you. 

.

        .

                .

                        .

                               .

“We’re headed right for the portal.” Lucifer told you eventually. “We’ll pass right through and into Hell.” 

     He kept his hold on you, but you couldn’t help noticing that Lucifer had maneuvered himself to be beneath your body in the order of your descent. 

“Will we hit the ground?” You asked, the image of making an impact on the hard ground coming unbidden. 

The image of Lucifer taking the brunt of the trauma set your heart racing. Your wings twitched. You willed them to start flapping as they had in Heaven but there was only the vaguest feeling of their roots flexing. 

    Fuck’s sake. 

         You felt panic bleeding back into your body again and you fruitlessly attempted to pull Lucifer ‘up’. The King started to speak, but the adrenaline was filling you up. 

“Lou—!”

    A sudden shift from black to red (and warmth, sensation, clouds!) and the sound barrier breaking silenced you.

Lucifer’s full set of wings extended before you, arching back to make a powerful sweep upward before he rolled the both of you right side up again. 

     You were back to clinging onto him, squeaking. You heard him chuckle in your ear at the same time you realized that that powerful force-field of light had disappeared. 

“Sorry sweetie.” Lucifer murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

     He hovered in the air with you in his arms, patient as you worked up the courage to pull away and look around. 

     Hell’s sky was a deep, deep red. Clouds of a softer shade floated past, little pinpoints of light that might be stars pricked the sky, and a large black moon sat adjacent to the teeming mass of light that you and Lucifer had just fallen from. 

Below you, slices of angular, beaming light zigzagged in a mildly familiar shape. When your eyes adjusted, it clicked instantly that there was a pentagram poised a little ways from you, and under that…

  The pentagram was bright, but through it shone bright lights from the city underneath. Your eyes widened, taking in the chaotic, clashing architecture of the Pride Ring. It was harrowing and strange, the sounds of screaming and laughter somehow audible in spite of the distance. 

     Amidst the sensory overload you found yourself comparing it to Las Vegas. 

           Lucifer nuzzled your cheek, bringing you back to the present. Head lifting so that you are able to look at him fully, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Helluva a welcome.” You teased, earning a grin from the blond. 

“Ah!” Lucifer startled when you tugged him bodily in your direction. Your wings fluttered quickly with the return of feeling in your muscles, and you glided back with the Devil in your arms.  

You spun him round, twirling in mid-air, until Lucifer laughed with you. The two of you danced together over the glowing pentagram as though it were a stage.

——

There was no need to further tire yourselves as Lucifer conjured up a shimmering portal into his castle. You could feel the exhaustion of all that had transpired weighing you down before you were led into what would soon become your new home. 

    The opulence and splendor of the Devil’s palace could not be understated. It was gargantuan. His personal restroom alone rose higher than high and would have been roomy enough for everyone that had lived on your floor in the Donner apartment. 

     However, the most you could offer after the day’s events was a drawn-out yawn and a mental note to be amazed at everything later. 

Lucifer half-led, half-dragged you toward one of the sinks in his private bath. He left you only long enough to grab a number of towels and washcloths that piled so high in his arms they obstructed his view. 

      You giggled softly at the sight of rags being rushed over on a pair of short legs, and feebly offered your help. 

Ooh. Not rags — these towels were pure silk. 

The blond positioned you to face him and began to clean you up, scanning your face for any cuts or bruises. You admired him drowsily, trying to do the same. He simply pecked your fingers when they wandered over his cheek, but otherwise stayed focused to tend to you. 

      Silk slid over your face, wiping away the stain of angelic blood from your chin and down the side of your throat. Lucifer passed the cloth over you with utmost care, all while you stared at him silently. 

     It was only when he became aware of your intense staring that you gave into the urge to kiss him again. 

The Devil seemed to have the same idea, mouth already parting for you. Your stomach flip-flopped at the telltale slip of his forked tongue against yours.                    You breathed him in, lips moving against his in between brief inhales, desperate not to part for even one second. 

     Lucifer whined into your mouth, hands rushing to dig into your hips and pull you in. He ran his hands over you, petting at every inch of your body, heavenly wardrobe catching on your hips, over your breasts, around your thighs. It drove you mad, wishing that the damn clothing was off and away. Memories of Lucifer buried inside you, smothering you into the mattress could not compare to the real thing just within reach. 

      You bent over to follow him, teeth clicking against each other as you continued to devour him and his noises. Another whine had you gripping the base of his skull, newly-formed claws digging through his hair. The flush that Lucifer inspired under your skin ran hot; so hot that the feeling of his cold hands against your bare skin shocked you. 

      Glazed-over crimson eyes met yours when you broke away from him abruptly, confused and yearning while you fought to calm yourself down. He too was flushed… in gold. Golden blood. 

“Lucifer…” You swallowed. “We need… we need to get Charlotte…” 

The King hummed, slow on the uptake. But soon his darkened gaze lit up with recognition. 

“Ch… Charlotte!” He exclaimed. “Right! We gotta get our baby!”

You snorted at the theatrics, fondness settling deep down inside your chest. 

———

     Lucifer let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you pleased while the flames licked over you both. You fought not to manhandle him again, wanting to be brave. At least the change from ornate, colossal palace to inside of the old Donner apartment fireplace was over in a flash. 

     The firebox had warped, growing in size until it was large enough for you and Lucifer to walk through. Briefly you wondered why you had never noticed such a thing happening during Lucifer’s countless visits, but perhaps it was a trick that humans didn’t pick up on. 

Or perhaps Lucifer was short enough that the large fireplace hadn’t had to change so much for him alone. 

     (You didn’t know how to feel about being at least a head taller than Lucifer now. It was another thing filed under ‘To Address Later’ in your mind.) 

Mr. And Mrs. Farrow were not waiting for you when you stepped into their home. They were nowhere to be found. 

But a baby’s cry was coming from further back in the apartment. 

     You dashed toward the noise, with Lucifer at your heels. It led you to the outlet where you’d been only once before, and you were happy for small miracles because so much of this unit was unfamiliar to you, courtesy of your desire to avoid the kooks that had initiated you into their bizarre dealings with the literal Prince of Darkness. 

When you arrived at the spare room, it was practically pitch black. Tea candles had been re-lit here and there, but they barely distinguished the silhouettes of two very frantic, knee-high toys-turned-sentient. 

     The little creatures moved like phantoms in the dark. One was steadily pushing the baby bassinet from side to side, attempting to soothe the crying child within. 

The other was levitating at the edge of the bassinet, staring worriedly at the baby, clearly agitated before it realized that someone had entered the room. 

     Your eyes had already adjusted to the dim little room — purposefully avoiding the cot that lay on the opposite side of Charlotte’s cradle. There was no possible way to prepare for seeing your own corpse, if it was still there. You had chosen to banish the possibility from your mind, and hadn’t dared to bring it up to Lucifer lest he grow agitated if the thought hadn’t already occurred to him. 

You focused on the present. On your child. And the goat butlers that your Love had spontaneously breathed life into. 

“You really are alive.” You said softly in awe. 

     The little goat that had been watching Charlotte from above seemed to recognize you. He floated back down, and allowed you to run your hand over his head as you stepped up to the bassinet, momentarily feeling the fuzz of his red fur. His brother followed, and they bowed, both for you and Lucifer as well as out of your way. 

     Had you been less single-minded in getting to your daughter, you might’ve laughed at the look of relief on their faces. Taking care of a newborn without thumbs couldn’t be easy. 

When you pulled back the little curtains of the pram, you felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. 

     Your beautiful baby. Your little Charlotte — she was reaching up, crying to be taken out and held. 

Without a thought, you obliged her. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright now.” You whispered, fingers smoothing over her porcelain forehead. “Mama’s here. Mama’s got you.” 

It was stunning to be able to actually touch your child, caress her soft skin and feel her yellow hair on your fingertips. She was truly like a tiny doll, with two dollops of pale red on either side of her cherubic cheeks. 

     You pushed down the compulsion to cry. Everything has happened so fast that you hadn’t had time to recognize what you would be missing upon your death. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t have gotten to hold Charlotte ever again. 

You could feel Lucifer’s presence just behind you before he was at your side, solid and comforting. Whatever regrets you may have entertained about leaving Heaven vanished then and there. 

     Charlotte’s cries were dying down, turning into minute whimpers and hiccups. Her eyes opened in the middle of your slow rocking back and forth, focusing on you. 

You beamed. “Hello baby.” 

    She gurgled, barely a blink before a wide, gummy smile of remembrance animated her formerly tear-stricken face. A laugh stuttered out of you, thick with emotion while Charlotte wiggled in her swaddling blanket. The spade of her tail poked out of the confines and tapped against your forearm with delight. 

Charlotte looked from you to Lucifer as he leaned in, having shuffled around so that he was able to embrace you, Charlotte nestled safe and snug between your bodies. She squealed with happiness, eliciting more laughter. 

“Let’s go home.”

****

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @devilslittlebabyxx, @diffidentphantom, @shamblezzz, @ranposanedogawa, @minamilinaqueen, @1-helluva-hazbin, @naniiiii12, @lokis-imaginary-friend, @zoethespiritwolf, @sakuraluna2468, @qardasngan, @wow-im-gay, @saturnalone, @rexnn, @h3art-l3ss, @its-a-dam-blue-brick, @saturnhas82moons, @im-so-tired52, @klallx

[jazzyoranges]

Late nights - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)

Words: 0.9k

A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅

You really didn’t mean to be out for so long

First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.

Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous

So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck

Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather

So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day

At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister

Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?

…

Yes. Yes it was.

But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands

Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort

Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you

Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep

“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.

Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.

“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew

“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”

The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver

Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie

Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie

“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck

“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder

“When was that?”

“When you didn’t come home on time”

“And I gave you a reason why I was late”

“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice

Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down

“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you

“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”

You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat

When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings

You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you

So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it

You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later

[imwetforyourmom]

fic based off numb to the feeling chase Atlantic?!

numb to the feeling

summary: matt hasnt been feeling many things lately. feeling numb. he desperately wants to feel something.. anything.

warnings: numbness feeling mentioned (?), marijuana, smut, dick riding, rough sex, switch!matt, creampie, unprotected sex (dont be silly, get on the pill)

a/n: IM BACK FROM MY BREAKKK

(if you dont like how I’ve written it or want it in a different way do not hesitate to ask me to re write it!!)

not proofread

~

matt hasnt felt like himself in days—weeks. he hasnt felt anything, happiness, anger, or even anxiety.

hes felt numb. and god does he hate it. he wants to feel something, he needs to feel something. so, hes turned to drugs, weed. but nothing further than that, sure he wants to feel something but he doesnt want to go too far. I mean, who would?

even when his girlfriend comes over with an overbearing grin on her face he cant find it in himself to match her energy. he cant find the him in himself to bring a smile to his lips, to bring the sounds of pure laughter from his body.

so here he finds himself, sitting outside on his porch, smoking a blunt. he sits deep in the chair, his back leant far into it, his legs manspread and his fingers spread with a j between his pointer and middle.

the strong scent lingers in the air, the sweet yet so musky smell so familiar to matt, its like a comforting thing. like a blanket on his shoulders, warming him in a cold storm. where its the only thing he can go to, after finding himself alone and in crave of something, anything.

the weed makes him feel things, it comforts him. its the only thing that can make him feel things, hes found it and deemed it his safe space. or his go-to.

he brings the blunt to his lips, inhaling the drug, letting it pass through his throat and into his lungs, holding it there before slowly exhaling it out his nose. then pulling the blunt from between his lips. the inhale of the blunt already coursing through his veins, and was he in for it. the effects of the weed were slow and sure to make their mark soon.. just not now. as this had only been the first ten or so minutes of his session.

he rests his forearm on the arm of the chair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes momentarily. letting everything sink in. the tingling sensation of the weed overtaking his senses, the cold, refreshing breath of air going through his nose becoming all that he could physically feel, the bitterness of the cold air fanning against his skin, the warmth of the blunt between his fingers reminding him this is all real, that he isnt dreaming of this phenomenal feeling, a feeling he could feel.

he opens his eyes once again, letting the blurriness of his eyes adjusting to the newfound light disappear as he takes in his surrounding. the trees lightly swaying along with the wind. the sky a white-ish grey, as if it was questioning what it wanted to be, alone. there were no clouds and no sun present. it was a blank white-ish grey. no color to it. just a plain white with a slight darker tone to it.

he brought his hand close to his mouth again, placing the blunt between his pink lips, freshly coated with a thin layer of saliva, before taking in another long, drawn out inhale. the drug filling his lungs and exploring his system, inviting itself in and affecting all that it could, sending matt into a delusion. he moved his hand away and rested it on the arm rest again.

holding his breath he admired how the drug felt inside him, how the drug felt overtaking what he could differ between what was what, and what was not. how the drug was slowly becoming the only thing he could focus on, and how good it fucking felt.

the drug was giving him things he couldnt do alone, it was giving him the ability to feel things, to feel himself. and god, how addicting it was.

he couldnt fucking be happier, its all he wanted and all he desired. finally, finally feeling things, even if it wasnt much he was still in touch with his emotions, he could feel the fire in his stomach, he could feel the thumping of his heart against his ribcage.

he couldnt get enough of it, he brough the joint back up to his lips, taking a greedy, long inhale from it, then pulling it away. holding the inhale in his lungs for longer than he usually does, as if it would make the drug affect him more than it already does. he exhaled, the smoke coming from the tight ‘o’ shape in his lips and going into the air.

he pulled the joint away and rested his arm on the armrest again, finding himself enjoying his current state, the feeling being euphoric.

• • •

here matt found himself, again on his front porch, blunt in hand.

this time, it wasnt as good as it was before. of course the drugs were hitting him.. it just wasnt as euphoric or as joyful as it was before. he wasnt as happy, he wasnt as carefree. he couldnt understand why, he was smoking the same weed, he was in the same area but he wasnt feeling the same.

“fuck.” he mumbled, he placed the joint on the ash tray next to him, feeling angered he let out a huff of air. he glanced around the landscape infront of him, deciding on what he was supposed to do now. he couldnt rely on the weed and thats all he could rely on.

his hand found its way to his mouth and subconciously began chewing on his fingernails, what the fuck was he gonna do now?

he grabbed his phone and pressed his girlfriends contact, needing anything, something. and he knew he could always go to her, and without a question she’d be there for him, doesnt matter whats going on she was always there for him.

the ringing sound of his phone only reminded him of the situation his was in. numb and in desire of something he didnt know what it was.

“hi baby!” her joyful voice rang through the phone and into his ear, immediately relaxing his nerves somewhat. he let out a small sigh of relief before saying what he needed to say.

“hi, can you come over, please?” he asked, his voice evidently panicked and breathy.

“of course, whats wrong?” she replied, you could hear the rustling of movement from her side of the phone, signaling she was already on her way.

“i need you,” he spoke, getting straight to the point with his desires. he was desperate for her, for feeling her.

“okay, okay, ill be there in five, my love, hang tight for me, k?” her assuring voice relaxed matt more than she’d already done before and he couldnt be more grateful, she’d been calming him effortlessly without even knowing it.

“okay, love you bye” he hung up, setting his phone down and waiting for her, patiently. if you could even call it that. kid was chewing his fingernails and looking all around the road ahead of him, searching for signs of y/ns arrival.

• • •

the sound of rocks being run over makes matt look up, his gaze softening when he sees the silhouette of his girlfriend leaving her car, her hips swaying perfectly as she walked towards him. truth be told, he was already hard just seeing her. the tight cropped shirt she wore definitely did not help either.

she walked to his porch and stopped infront of him, the smell of weed filling her nose, proving matt was most likely high. “you said you needed me, baby? how so?” she asked, looking down at his figure propped up on the chair, looking up at her with glossed over eyes.

“need your body” he muttered, his hands coming to her hips and squeezing. his voice filled with need as he let his eyes take in how pretty she looked.

“yeah?” y/n placed her hand in his hair and lightly tugged it, running her long nails along his scalp gently, sending shivers down matts spine. he leaned his forehead onto her stomach, acting more desperate and needy than he already was.

“need you so so bad” he stood up abruptly and grabbed her by her arm, pulling her inside his house and locking the door behind them before walking up to his room.

y/n giggled as matt took a seat on the edge of his bed, then patted his thigh, inviting y/n to sit on his lap.

y/n did as he silently asked, taking a seat on his lap and almost immediately moving her hips on him in slight yet hard grinds. earning a grunt from matt and his hands finding home on her hips, pushing and pulling her on his lap more.

matts face met with y/ns, connecting their lips in a slow, open-mouthed kiss yet filled with unspoken passion.

as y/n felt matts dick grow under her she began trailing her kisses down his jaw and neck, kissing, sucking and leaving dark purple marks all over the side of his neck, only arousing him further.

matt pulled her away from his neck and stopped her hips, mumbling a quick “need to be inside you, so bad” as he pulled her shorts off and lightly moved her off his lap so he could pull his own pants and boxers down.

he pulled her back on his lap and positioned her to be hovering over his tip, letting her wetness saturate his dick before letting her sink down. in which, he did not too long after he found himself aching to be fill her full.

he pulled y/ns hips down, letting his dick slide past her velvety walls. earning a moan from both y/n and matt.

y/n ground her hips into his, moving forward and backward before bouncing up, then down repeatedly on his cock, finding her pattern.

“agh- fuck” y/n whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders to stabilize herself as she bounced up and down on him. “you got it, baby” matt encouraged, throwing his head back at the heavenly feeling of y/ns walls squeezing his dick in all the right places, she felt so fucking good and he couldnt get enough of it.

one of his hands moved from her hip to her clit, rubbing in tight, slow circles, eliciting a moan from y/n. “fuck!” she moaned, placing her head into the crook of matts neck while continuing her bouncing.

“harder,” matt groaned, desperate for the feeling. he dowsnt know what feeling, all that mattered was that he was feeling it.

his hands went to her hips, pulling her up and down faster, when he brought her down he did it incredibly fast and slightly harder, pulling a moan out of his own throat. matt bucked his hips up, meeting her hips in a pleasureful rhythm. from the suddenness of matts hips snapping into y/ns and moving her himself in powerful thrusts, she screamed a gutteral scream, the sound almost throat scraping. y/n bit her lip and matched the rhythm matt had created, each time their hips met she let out a whimper.

a tightening sensation began in y/ns stomach, as early as it was in the sex, it had been so good, too good and she knew either way matt wasnt stopping anytime soon.

“‘m close, matt- ngh-“ y/n moaned, her voice hoarse from the scream she earlier screamt. y/n continued with her bouncing, until her legs began to go weak. she began grinding on matts dick—to the best of her abilities while he still bucked up into her.

“fuck, wait for me. I know you can.” he said in return, noticing how y/n wasnt moving anymore. he took matters into his own hands and flipped them over, laying y/n on the bed, and matt standing at the edge, still plowing himself deep into her.

y/n bit her lip, surpressing a scream that was threatening to spill out. her eyes rolled back with the new angle matt had at her, her stomach tightening even more, holding off her release was already hard enough, but having to wait? hell, was she in for a treat.

“j- just a little bit longer, you’re doing so good for me, baby” matt praised, driving his hips impossibly faster into her, chasing his high. y/n clenched around him, unexpectedly sending matt over the edge, cumming inside her with a loud groan. “fuck- cum with me” matt moaned, his spurts of cum painting her walls white.

y/n came almost on instand, the knot in her stomach breaking as her cum covered matts dick, with him still plunging inside her, though his place slowing. he slowly pulled out, y/n whimpering at the feeling of no longer being full.

matt collasped on the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest, mumbling a lazy “you did amazing, sweetheart” as sleep slowly overtook him, y/n following suit.

he was so fucking thankful that the weed didnt work, cause that sex with y/n made him feel things hes never felt before.

2136 words

@mattsturnxoxo @littlebookworm803 @wh0resstuff @luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @dollyspsychoxo @sturnib-tch @b2cute @livvy4realll @graysturns @jnkvivi

[sleepiexx]

The Sad Expression on the Face I Love So Much

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Note: one bad week and suddenly I’m a fic writing god again. Had a Sirius oneshot planned out and mostly written but I pumped this one out before I could think of an ending to that one so you’re getting this first!

Summary: Your boyfriend patiently awaits your arrival home after a day out with your friends, only to be met with your saddened form.

Warnings: describes what i would refer to as a panic attack, but it’s never expressed to be one

Word count: 1310

Remus was a good man, it was such a shame you couldn’t match his upbeat energy when you entered the door to your shared apartment.

He had heard the front door click open, which sparked a smile on his face. He never wanted to stop your outings with friends, as he knew having relationships with people other than your partner was important— his own friends the truest testament to that statement— yet he couldn’t help but miss you when the house was left without your presence. Which is why he was pleasantly surprised by your early arrival home, no waiting up late for his nightly cuddle tonight, no, rather a nice long cuddle with a movie in the background.

He called out to you as he stood from the couch, scrambling to make his way to the foyer, “you’re home early, darling, how was your day out?”

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Your frame stiff, eyes glued to the floor, clearly shined over with tears that have yet to be shed, keys still clutched in your hand, likely because you’d been too distraught to even reach up to put them on the key hook.

“Oh, sweet dear, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” His worried words and the safe environment he had provided made the tears finally fall. In an instant, he was in front of you, wrapping you in his arms. A pained sob ripped its way through your chest, you’d been holding it in far too long.

“My friends…” you began, having a hard time composing yourself to even say what was wrong.

Remus had a hunch what the problem was. He didn’t like your friends for a very specific reason, but he had always stayed firm in the fact that you were the judge in who you were friends with and it was really none of his business who you did and didn’t hang around. He knows he would not listen if you had said you didn’t want him spending time with his friends.

“I- I just… I’ve been really anxious this week,” You started to talk with the shakiest of voices. Remus could tell from the way your breaths started cutting you off that you were beginning to hyperventilate. He didn’t want to stop you from talking it out, though, so he led you to come and sit down beside him where he’d been on the couch before allowing you to continue.

“And irritable— and- and- and you know how I- how I spiral when I’m irritable, because- because I just think such mean thoughts, and- and I just hate myself,” your stutter only got worse the more you revealed, because speaking about it made you think about it, and thinking about it made breathing harder. Not to mention the sniffling you had to do every five seconds so you wouldn’t cover your upper lip in snot.

Remus held your hand, rubbing soothing circles overtop your knuckles and keeping his own breathing as steady as possible in hopes that you would eventually sync up. His free hand moved its way to your back, rubbing up and down.

“I just thought,” you sniffled, futility wiping your face with your sleeve as you continued to cry, “that maybe I’d f-feel- feel better if I went out with- with my friends but..” your lungs seized and your voice came out strained and cracked, “but no.”

You wanted to keep your breathing steady for Remus, but it proved impossible. Your diaphragm seemed to have a mind of its own as it contacted with no care whatsoever of your say so.

“They just kept- kept making that stupid joke,” your voice was drowned in a visceral sadness and a defeated anger, making evident to Remus how you’d held off on sharing your feelings for far too long.

He knew well what joke you were talking about. It never sat right with him, made him clench his fists every time he heard it. It took everything in him not to blow up on your poor excuse of a friend group. He’d played the diplomat with your friends as long as he possibly could.

“Where they-“ sniff. “Pretend that-“ sniff. “They hate me- but- but-“ sniff. “But they get away- get away with it because-“ sniff. “Because I’m such a pushover and- and I never call them ou- out on it.”

Another sob wracked your whole body, Remus pulled you into him, your cheek pressed to his chest as he made a valiant effort to calm you down with his soothing touches.

“I know- I know that I’m a lot-“ sob. “But I- I’m kind. I- I treat th-them good so- so why d-don’t I deserve the same?”

Remus felt his heart drop, holding you steady through what felt like, to you, endless sobbing. He had always thought that you deserved so much more than the friends you made, but he just thought you had a really thick skin towards the subject. Everyone has a breaking point, he supposed, and for his sweet girl, this seemed to be it.

“Oh dove,” he cooed, “of course you deserve better. You are not ‘a lot,’ you are true to yourself, if they don’t understand that then that is their problem. You do so much just for them to be so ungrateful.”

You buried yourself further into him, holding onto him tightly as though he were a buoy in a storm. You sat for a while like that, until you could speak without stuttering as much— still, your quiet voice hardly carried and the heartbroken rasp in it was a sound unlike any heartache Remus had ever experienced “I wish I could control myself sometimes. Just- just make myself shut up once in a while.”

Remus scoffed, “I don’t.”

You looked up at him through heavy lashes, “really?”

You looked as if even a small gust of wind would make you shatter, yet Remus would guard you from it all, wind, or storm, or even shitty friends who don’t appreciate you.

“Of course not, sweetheart, I love how genuine you are. It’s what made me fall for you. That, and how hard you love. I’ve never doubted myself for a second when I’ve been around you.” He brushed some stray hairs from your face, “I have never been able to stand your friends, they aren’t as kind to you as you are to them.”

You nodded. He knew that it would take a while before you fully believed it, but he was willing to shower you in love every day until you believed it. In fact, he was already planning on integrating you into his own friend group, James and Sirius adored you and he had no doubt they’d love the idea. Lily, Marlene, and Mary would all love you too, he knew for a fact that girls nights with them had to be more fun than with your old friends.

For now, though, he’d settle for the calm you’d finally achieved after talking your way through such an intense wave of emotions, he was proud.

“What do you say we go back to our room, have a cuddle, and watch your favorite movie?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Yeah?”

You nod and repeat yourself as he cracks a grin.

You walk hip to hip to your bedroom until you’re finally able to sink into your bed. Remus hands you the tv remote before disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a soft, wet rag covered in makeup remover. Your cheeks seem to tingle as you remember the mess of mascara that must currently paint them, Remus doesn’t hesitate to come wipe you clean. When he’s done, he tosses the rag and leaves a chaste kiss on your nose.

“There,” he mutters, lying beside you and pulling you into his arms, “this is much better, isn’t it?”

[ukelele-boy]

I was rereading some of my posts from 2021 and was reminded of how much meta I used to write so imma share my crazy headcanon/ theory which i thought up as plot for a revolution fic:

RR verse is on the "Olympus will fall" timeline and Zeus' actions are speeding it up.

In the recent decade there has been several great prophecies back to back. And people have remarked how weird it is that there have been so many. What if the reason is because of Zeus?

Remember, in greek mythology there is a major theme of how Your Fate Cannot Be Defied. And Zeus, king of Olympus, has a major Fate: being overthrown. However he managed to "defy" it by eating Metis.

My idea is that he has been forcefully clawing out a future where he is still king of Olympus. By doing this, he is literally changing the flow of fate. And obviously fate wants to correct itself, so the harder he fights it, the more counterforce he triggers. All prophecies meant to lead to his overthrowing are suddenly sped up. Olympus begins to lose power. Zeus is aware of this. He is also aware how people are becoming suspicious. And he needs a scapegoat. And who better than the god of prophecy who is also a threat to the throne?

Apollo mentions that Zeus blamed him for his oracle revealing a prophecy "too early" and therefore causing it to happen early. However, everyone knows it's not possible to actually cause a prophecy to happen early...so why would Zeus even have this weird line of thought? everyone probably dismissed it as Zeus being irrational, but there a juicier theory this ties into:

Apollo being the one to overthrow Zeus.

The idea of "fall of the sun, the final verse". What if this is the final prophecy that is meant to happen before Zeus is overthrown? And what if the fall this speaks of is actually when Apollo fell close to chaos? When he pulled himself together there?

What if he reformed different from his original godly form. He was literally almost gone, his body was disintegrating. Maybe he pulled himself together using the energies of chaos. Apollo himself isn't aware of this, due to a suspicious memory gap between him clawing up from the cliff and him waking up next to Artemis.

And this adds to another headcanon of mine, the fates choose Apollo to be the god of prophecy on purpose. At first glance, this is a horrible match. If they wanted a good servant, why would they choose someone so closely tied to his heart and so likely to fight fate? Someone who dares get them drunk just to extend a human's lifespan? UNLESS... they WANT him to eventually try and defy fate??

Imagine if fate was a compass and Zeus had forcefully wrenched the needle point at a bleak dark future where Olympus falls with him. And this river direction has been set so deeply in stone and run on for so long, it has worn a grove and become the mostly likely future.

you need someone willing to fight, someone to wrench the needle out. SOMEONE FAMILAR WITH FATE AND Prophecy. Someone who has the power to fight it and win. Someone who has the will. Perhaps a baby god who was willing to fight Python, and who would have likely died there. But if he successfully did take on the powers of prophecy, one day that same godling would fight Python again, would absorb the powers of chaos to recreate himself.

Perhaps not today and maybe not even for the next four thousand years

but one day that godling would stare down at that wretched compass hand and decide to yank the flow out of its place. And maybe, that godling means a chance for Olympus to have a different future.

Anyways that's my crazy theory i hope it wasn't too confusing. It also links up with my other story theme idea about fate, hope and apollo blah blah blah, which i rambled about in a different post.

Edit: just remembered my other crazy thought, what if ZEUS PURPOSEFULLY TRIED TO GET RID OF APOLLO NOT ONLY CAUSE HE IS A THREAT TO THE THRONE BUT ALSO BECAUSE AS THE GOD OF PROPHECY HE IS MOST LIKELY TO REALIZE SOMETHING IS WRONG AND THAT ZEUS IS MESSING WITH FATE?!???? Basically pulling a imma say you're the murderer before u realise im the murderer. (i cant remember the actual saying Lmaoo)

[ariaste]

My god, IWTV fandom has some of the worst comments-to-hits ratios on fics I've ever seen. I've got two chapters of this fic I posted, 1600 hits, and 52 comments. In other words, only 3% of readers left a comment, and that's with me being a DAMN good writer. I just looked up the most kudos'd fic in the whole fandom, and this poor fucking writer has ~27,000 hits, ~2700 kudos (10% kudos-to-hits is a normal and expected standard for a Good Fic) but 80 comments. 0.3% of readers left a comment. The second most-kudos'd fic is an outlier with 50 chapters, so we're setting that one aside, but number three has 15k hits and 112 comments, which is 0.7%. wtf wtf wtf. My 3% is considered doing really well? WTF WTF WTF.

(For a control group so that we all have a sense of perspective, let's compare this to my most recent fic in the Nine Worlds fandom, which has ~2800 hits and 237 comments (8.5%), or one of my most popular fics in the Untamed fandom, which has ~63,000 hits and 1082 comments (just shy of 7%).)

Now here's the thing. I'm confident enough in my abilities as a writer to brush this off and go about my day, but not everyone is. A LOT of people out there are writing fics because they want to connect with other fans and share something they love, so posting a fic and getting near-total radio silence can feel really disheartening. If you liked the fic enough to leave kudos, take two extra seconds to comment. It doesn't have to be complicated or long! Even just "Loved this, so fun!" or "Kudos!" or "Thanks for sharing!" is GREAT.

Commenting on fics is part of a healthy fandom ecosystem. Fic authors who get a lot of positive comments are very often encouraged and energized to write more of that thing you like. You are directly contributing to your own happiness by commenting.

And listen, I hear people worrying that it's going to be annoying or bad if they leave impersonal "bland" comments, so let me preempt that: No, it is not annoying. I once had someone leave the same boilerplate comment ("Thanks for writing, I really liked this" or something along those lines) on every chapter of a fic that she binged in one sitting so I saw them all in a row. My reaction was, "Oh yay, I'm so glad she liked it <3 And how kind of her to comment on every chapter!!!"

We have a GREAT show -- IWTV fans Never Stop Winning, right? ...Except when it comes to fic comments. So just consider being the change you wish to see in the world, ok? Two extra seconds of your day to feed and water your local fic authors and to carry that "we never stop winning" and "oh we are SO back" energy through the hiatus until s3. <3

[gyll-yee-haw]

Can you write an age gap fic where Jake is older than the reader, and maybe he's been getting in his head about it. Maybe one night they start making it, and he's in his head and can't get hard, and he freaks thinking this proves he's too old for his girl? Little angst, lot of fluff and smut lol

Hii, honey! Thank you for the amazing request, I got SO carried away with it lol... well, let's start 2024 with this one <3

Warnings: age gap, angst (talks of breaking up, anxiety attack), dry humping, cum in pants, slapping, dirty talk, oral (fem. recieving).

Like 4.1k words 💀

Jake sighed as he scrolled through the pictures of last weekend's red carpet event. Maybe was the bad lighting but... something seemed off. He looked so... different. But then... he looked at you. As gorgeous as always. He could swear you were getting more gorgeous every day. But he was just... aging.

He tried not to care about all the mean comments you both had to deal with, due to your age gap, but it was different when he could see it with his own eyes. How in a few years he would not only not be good looking enough for you, but he might also not... be able to give you the life you deserve. He wouldn't have the same energy or the same goals. What if he got sick and useless and you had to waste your life taking care of him?

His heart broke at that thought. He couldn't do that to you. But what was the other option? Breaking up with the love of his life?

His thoughts were interrupted by you opening the front door. He quickly locked his phone and threw it on the coffee table. He kinda hoped you hadn't seen those pictures... he thought you would feel less attracted to him if you realized what he just realized.

"Hi, baby." You almost moaned at the sight of him, so cozy on the sofa. You had such a long, stressful day and you just couldn't wait to be in his arms.

"Been thinking bout you all day." you sighed, straddling him. You felt him tense under you. "Want you so bad right now..."

"You do, baby?" He knew he would have to use his best acting skills to hide how tense he was. The problem was that he was never good at lying to you.

But maybe... sex would help. Help him relax, help him get his mind off all that... it's what the two of you always did after a stressful day, relax by pleasuring each other... maybe that was the key.

You kept rubbing your clothed core against his, as you kissed his neck and moaned obscenely. "Need you, Jake, need you so bad, oh my god..."

That would usually make him shiver, drive him so crazy he would have to take control immediately. But right now... he felt kinda overwhelmed. He felt like your body heat was too much and your words made his heart race, but just not in a good way.

God, he loved you. Those thoughts he was having... being so scared of losing you, was all because he loved you too much... he wanted to make you feel so good... it was like his mind and soul craved the same as you, but his body just wasn't responding.

Fuck. His body WASN'T responding. He grabbed your waist so much tighter than he usually does, making your hips move faster. He grunted as he kept forcing your hips, but NOTHING. Why wasn't him hard? Not even a little bit! For fucks sake, all it takes for you to get him hard is a look... now you were begging for it on his lap and NOTHING.

It broke his heart. His princess asking him something he just couldn't give... and what if... what if he just couldn't do it anymore?

"Jake!" You called. And by your tone, he could tell it wasn't the first time, he just couldn't listen. "Jake, please, stop, you're hurting me..."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I..." he immediately let go of your hips, hands going straight to his face, rubbing it desperately.

"Jake? Baby? What's going on?" You grabbed his arms, removing his hands from his face, so he would look at you.

"Can't breath." He whispered.

"Calm down, baby, I'm right here, okay? You're safe, everything's okay, I promise." You placed both hands on his shoulders, taking deep breaths so he would follow.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He said, as soon as his heart rate normalized.

"For what, baby?" You brought a hand to his cheek, caressing it slowly.

"Can't do it." His words were vague, but the fact that he couldn't look you in the eyes gave away what he was talking about.

"Hey..." you sighed, giving him a tight hug. "It's okay, we don't have to. I mean, you never pressured me when I wasn't feeling like it. You have all the right in the world to say no. I'm actually very happy you did, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, okay? You should have told me sooner, I didn't mean to..."

"No, Y/N, you don't get it." He interrupted you, closing his eyes. "I really want to, but I can't."

"Baby, you have to tell me what's going on, you're scaring me..." you tried one more time to get him to look at you, but he just wouldn't. "Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything. You took a moment to look at him. Maybe you should have done that before starting anything, because he clearly looked upset. Exhausted, frustrated... you just couldn't understand why he wasn't talking.

"I'm gonna go get you some water, okay?" You asked sweetly, and he just nodded.

The feeling when his lap lost contact with you was both a relief and the start of brand new paranoias. He needed space. Needed to be in silence for a moment. But... symbolically, it hit him hard. He felt like he was losing you and he wished he would be strong enough to stop it. To hold you tightly, even if it made it hard to breathe.

You came back with a glass of water and sat beside him on the sofa. He accepted the glass with a fake smile and just looked at it for a moment. You waited patiently until he took a sip. He visibly calmed down a little bit.

"Do you think you can talk now?" You spoke calmly. "Or do you want to rest a bit?"

He wasn't sure. There was no point in delaying it, but, at the same time, he didn't even know where to start.

"Okay, we'll rest a bit." You added after waiting for his response, but getting nothing. "Why don't we watch a movie and cuddle a bit? Wouldn't that be perfect?"

"I..." he spoke for the first time in what felt like hours for both of you. "I would love that."

You felt relief wash over you after hearing his voice. You were sure he would be back to normal and finally open up soon now.

You grabbed the remote and chose whatever silly rom-com popped up, just as a distraction. He sat more comfortably and you sat between his legs, snuggling on his chest. His arms wrapped around you and you allowed your body to relax.

No words were spoken during the first half of the movie. Sometimes, his arms would wrap around you extra-tightly, as the anxiety of losing you peaked again, and as he calmed down, he would relax again, kissing the top of your head.

The result of being so relaxed inside your lover's embrace after a long, stressful day was obvious: you fell asleep. When Jake noticed, he chuckled sadly. You were so beautiful. So young and breathtakingly pretty... His fingertips traced your cheeks very lightly, afraid he would wake you up. He wished he could freeze that moment right there. But he knew he couldn't. He knew that time was running, flying, specially for him. He felt like he was rotting right beside you, as you laid peacefully, like a marble sculpted goddess.

His mind was flooded with what happened earlier. You had long forgotten, but in his head, you went to sleep extremely sexually frustrated. He felt disgusted by his old man flaccid cock. He couldn't imagine how you would want to touch it. And he knew you had a high sex drive. One he was always able to satisfy, but... now? And it would only get worse. Every minute that passed, it was getting worse. An agonizing ache filled his chest again. He was losing you.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him looking at you with the saddest expression you had ever seen on him. He didn't even try to hide it. He kept stroking your face and gave your forehead a long kiss.

"Jakey..." you whispered.

"My love." He whispered, lips still touching your skin. "My sweet girl."

"Yes, baby." You smiled, placing your hands on top of his. "I'm your girl. All yours."

You couldn't understand why that was the wrong thing to say at the moment, since he loved to hear it, but it clearly was. He sighed and eliminated all forms of physical contact between the two of you, standing up and walking in circles in front of you.

That's when it hit you. It was obvious that he didn't want to tell you because you were the problem. He didn't want to have sex with you, because you disgusted him. You wondered how long he had been faking it, because he looked fine when you left for work that morning... he just didn't know how to do it, how to end things, because he was too nice to hurt you.

"I get it." You said, feeling your heart break. "Do you want me to leave?"

He stopped walking and looked at you.

"Baby..." he sighed.

"Don't call me baby." You replied, angrily. "I wish I had realized this before."

Your words hurt him more than a knife could ever do. So, he didn't have to say anything. In the end, you realized it all by yourself. Maybe it was his failure earlier? You didn't even want to try again to see if he could do it... well, maybe it was better like this. You couldn't waste your precious time and beauty with him anymore. And he was relieved that you realized that.

But his relief turned to panic as he saw you stand up and walk towards your shared bedroom. He followed you.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

"Leaving." You spoke shortly, because if you tried to explain any further, you would cry, and you really didn't want to do that in front of him.

"But... but we should talk first..." he insisted. He knew you had to. He wanted the best for you, but when shit got serious, he started doubting everything.

"Oh, now you want to talk?" You clapped back, immediately regretting it. It didn't matter what he was doing to you, he was clearly having an anxiety attack earlier and you knew you should respect his time. "Shit, I'm sorry. I know you weren't feeling well, I just..."

"No, you're right." He interrupted you. "I was selfish. I shouldn't have allowed it to go this far."

"This far?" You frowned. "You're a fucking coward. What is it? You never fucking loved me, then you allowed me to move in and share a life with you for all these years because you didn't want to tell me the truth?"

"You can call me whatever you want." He raised his voice a bit. "But don't you dare think for a second that I didn't love you. Because I am going to love you for the rest of my life, I'm just trying to do what's best for you."

"Bullshit." You rolled your eyes, getting so close to him that your bodies touched, looking him in the eye, lips dangerously close. "Doing what's best for me is such BULLSHIT, fucking own what you're doing."

Well shit. Wrong time. A little late for that. But he was getting seriously turned on. Your anger. Your body and your words challenging him. The enormous sense of ownership he felt as soon as you said you were leaving... before he could think, he grabbed your wrists and pushed you against the wall, kissing you hungrily. Your hands tried to free themselves from his tight grip, but it was useless, the way his body pressed against yours made you absolutely weak.

"Don't do this, don't do it, please..." you begged as soon as he broke the kiss for air. "Don't fuck me cause you feel sorry for me, it's not fair..."

"I don't feel sorry for you." He was genuinely confused. "I fucking love you. Fucking love you, do you understand? Have to show you."

You didn't know anything anymore. Five minutes ago you were sure he didn't want you anymore... but that hunger in his eyes was the same one you saw every single time. Nothing changed. You didn't know what was his problem, all you knew was that you were going to let him take whatever he wanted from you, hoping to solve it.

His hands finally released yours, meeting your waist, but very differently from what they did earlier. This grip was familiar. The one used to keep your hips still as he absolutely destroyed your insides. Your body recognized it well and automatically made you crave him.

His lips left a trail of messy kisses and incomprehensible words all over your neck as his hips grinded against your lower abdomen, relieving the tension on his rock-hard cock. Part of him was terrified it would go away, so he kept going. And it was driving you CRAZY. He would often tease you, but that was another level.

"Jake, please, need you..." you begged.

Your words brought him back to the moment you said them earlier, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He had to keep up. If he disappointed you again, he knew he would have to let you go.

"Can't stop, baby, feels so good..." he replied, completely lost in the moment.

You moaned at the obscenity of the scene. The way your boyfriend grinded his cock desperately against you, so desperate he couldn't even wait to get undressed. The way his body had you pressed against the wall made it impossible for you to touch yourself. You knew you could come just from watching that scene if it went on for long enough. But it didn't.

Soon, his movements got messier.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum..." he moaned, teeth sinking into your neck.

"Come on, Jakey, do it..." you motivated him, desperate for it to end so you could get absolutely anything. "Cum for me, baby, need you to feel so good..."

"Fuck..." he moaned, hips bucking in a familiar way. He was so close.

"Yes, baby, keep going..." you smiled, as you saw him losing himself in pleasure. "Look at you, fucking cumming in your pants like a horny fucking teenager..."

That did it for him. He grunted like an animal. Came so much you could feel your belly wet from it, leaking through his pants.

"Fuck, Jacob." You rested your head against the wall, exhausted like you were the one who just came that hard. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm sorry." He kept his eyes shut, still pressed against you as he tried to catch his breath.

"Don't apologize, that was so fucking hot..." you moaned, pulling his hair.

"I don't want you to leave..." he whimpered.

You stopped everything. You were horny as hell, but there was something wrong with him and you needed to know. You couldn't stand the idea of fucking him then immediately getting dumped.

"Jake. I know you're struggling right now, okay? But you have to tell me what's going on if you want me to stay. At least... let me know if I did something wrong."

"You did nothing wrong." He separated your bodies, and you had to hold back a frustrated moan. He grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed, where you both sat down. "It's just... I've been thinking... you know what... it's so funny, you just called me a horny teenager..."

"Yeah, I mean, you just dry-humped me against a wall and blew a load in your pants, what am I supposed to say?" You smirked.

"Yeah, but I couldn't even get it up earlier." He said, frustratedly.

"Is that what this is about?" You frowned. "You're upset because..."

"Don't say it out loud." He cut you.

You started to laugh hysterically. And it didn't help that whenever you looked at his face, he looked like an absolutely confused idiot.

"What? Why are you laughing?" He tried to stop you.

"Jacob, that's so stupid." You took a deep breath to stop laughing. "So what? You're not a machine, it's okay if you don't feel like it sometimes. Oh god, if you hit me with the 'it never happened to me before', I swear I'm gonna laugh again."

"Well?" He thought he was supposed to be offended. But it really was kinda stupid, wasn't it? Some internalized sexism telling him to have a constant hard cock, ready to use, really for sex 24/7. He felt a little ridiculous. "I... I wasn't gonna say that, but I kinda have an explanation, if you want to hear it."

"Jake. You don't have to explain anything, baby." You reassured him. "It's not a problem. I'm glad we are talking about it, but it's not a big deal."

"No, you don't understand." He sighed. "I... listen, I know we've had this conversation before, but I feel like it's getting a little more real now. And I think we need to have it again, because you have to decide if this is still what you want."

Your eyes widened. Maybe it was a big deal.

"You're my everything, Y/N. But you're also... everything, just everything, you know? You're smart, and caring, and funny, and so fucking gorgeous, I can't... I can't describe what I see in you, what I know everyone out there sees in you." He continued. "And I can't help but feel like... I might not be enough for you in a few years. But then... after what happened earlier, I realized that I might... already not be good for you anymore."

"Jake..." you sighed. "You've been reading those stupid comments again?"

"No, no one told me anything, I've seen it with my own eyes." He explained. "I've seen pictures of us together and it's..."

"It's what?" You raised your eyebrows. "It's heavily edited or a terrible angle so the gossip pages can say I'm a gold digger? Or that you're some kind of monster who steal the innocence of helpless like girls?"

"Y/N..." he insisted. "We have to be realistic."

"Yes, Jake. Let's be realistic, then." You shrugged. "The truth is that I've been extremely happy, and all my emotional and physical needs completley satisfied. It's been like this for years and it will still be like this for years."

"You don't know that." He replied.

"Yes, I do. Trust me, I do." You caressed his face gently. "I'm sitting right in front of you and I'm seeing the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He has the same eyes he had on the movies I've seen before meeting him. The same gorgeous smile. I see some changes on your face and they make me so happy... to see that we're growing older together. That's a beautiful thing."

"I know, honey, but at some point I may not give you what you need anymore." He melted under your touch, placing a hand on top of yours.

"What if something happened to me tomorrow and you had to take care of me? And I was the one who couldn't give you anything anymore? Would you leave me?" You challenged him.

"It's different. That's probably not gonna happen. But we know that this is happening to me right now. And it will only get worse." He explained.

"There's nothing happening, Jake!" You chuckled. "Come on, you're healthier than me, you know that. And you know that what happened earlier only did because you were stressed."

"Maybe not?"

"Maybe not?" You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I mean... it's so difficult for you to get an erection nowadays that you got one while I was fucking threatening to leave you."

He left out the most delicious laugh. That one he has. That one that turns your pupils into heart shapes.

"You're an IDIOT." You laughed with him, sitting on his lap and giving him a tight hug.

"I'm just worried about you. I just want to make sure you're happy." He sighed.

"Yes, sir, thanks for checking." You mocked him, but got back to a more serious tone afterwards. "It's okay if you want to have this conversation once in awhile. Just know that my answer is never going to change. I will always want you. I know things will change, but we went through so many changes already, and I love every single phase we live."

"Thank you." He whispered, gently grabbing your face for a passionate kiss. "I will always want you too."

He kept kissing you and for the first time in a while he didn't feel like time was rushing. He felt like he belonged on that moment. You, on the other hand, were getting a little impatient. You could feel his cock hardening again under you, and you craved it more than wanted to admit.

"Jake?" you whispered against his lips.

"I know, baby." He chuckled. "My girl needs a bit of attention, huh?"

"Yes, please..." you begged. "I'll take anything you give me, just... need your attention."

"My attention, little girl?" He asked sarcastically, picking you up from his lap and throwing you on the bed. "I know you better than that, think you need my cock."

You pressed your thighs together at his words. Big mistake. He forced them open, running his hand from your neck to your core. He had you bucking your hips at the mere contact of his hand over your clothes, and that made his confidence improve. Again, big mistake.

It's just that... you've been craving him all day, and the way there was still a wet patch of his cum on both of your clothes... it made you go feral.

He removed your pants, fingers rushing to rub your clit through your panties.

"No... no, Jake, please..." you tried to push his hand away.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asked, very confused. "I can fucking smell how wet you are."

"Exactly." You explained, still trying to push him away, but he kept teasing you. "Gonna cum so fast, I don't want to, I wanna ride you..."

"Fuck, baby..." he felt his cock throb at your words. "Will you be patient for me?"

"Don't want to..." you frowned.

"You don't want to?" He raised his eyebrows. "What do you want, then? To be a fucking brat? Tell you what... I'll only give you my cock if you cum first."

You moaned frustratedly as he pulled your underwear down. And moaned even louder when his tongue made contact with your core, diving into your wetness like he was tasting you for the first time. He devoured your pussy like he was trying to prove something to himself. But you were too lost in pleasure to worry about that. The noises, both coming from your wetness and from his mouth, cause he enjoyed eating you out just a little too much, were loud enough to make you feel like you had to scream.

"FUCK, I'M COMING, JAKE, I'M COMING RIGHT NOW, FUCK!"

And he didn't stop until you pushed his head with all the strength you had left.

"Good girl." He smirked. "Still wanna ride me? Or you're to tired?"

"Wanna ride you, give me a minute, fuck..." you shivered, just imagining something touching your sensitive pussy at that moment.

"Can't wait much, baby, I..." he seemed a little embarrassed. "Eating this gorgeous pussy got me too worked up..."

"Yeah?" You smirked. "Don't tell me you're gonna cum in your pants again... so pathetic..."

"Feeling brave, little girl?" He laughed darkly.

You didn't have an answer to that. And you didn't need one. He quickly flipped you over, giving your ass a loud slap.

You heard him undressing behind you, and got all excited. Ass in the air for him to use... except... he didn't. You heard him stroking himself. You looked back, begging him with your eyes.

But that only made him stroke himself faster, and you almost cried as you felt his cum painting your ass, without feeling an inch of his cock inside you.

"Next time you want something, you better be nice." He said, giving your ass another slap.

You were in shock. Wrecked and still wanting more.

"Now give this old man some rest." He said, grabbing your face and giving you a little kiss on the tip of your nose. "And if you behave, I might be nice too."

[da-rulah]

Could you please do fan fic where Copia is gay or/and with a ftm(female to male) trans guy?

This has been on my mind since you requested it, and I apologise it's taken so long. Can you believe I missed out on writing this during PRIDE MONTH!? What a twat. I apologise. Usual stuff; work/life balance, writing for my big fics etc. etc but you had me at 'gay copia'. I hope you enjoy...

18+, MDNI! CW/ MxM, soft smut, comfort, gay sex, anal fingering, anal penetration, hand job, cumming inside, this is soppy as shit and I love it fight me.

OH MY GOD there's art to go with this now... Thank you so much to my incredibly talented bestie, @delulluart for this stunning pencil drawing. (Warning, it's NSFW... of course.)

Tagging my usual tag list, but if this kind of thing isn't for you, then that's absolutely fine. 💕

Do you know how tiring it is to always be in command? To always be the figure of authority? Copia does. There's no escape from it... He has no choice but to be the figurehead of the ministry, the one everybody turns to for help, for advice, for relief...

How was he ever supposed to feel relief? Who would take care of his stresses? Who would allow him the space to just let go?

Today, he practically crawls back into his chambers, just grateful to be in a place he can call his own again. No disturbances or expectations; just peace to unwind. Except, he wasn't alone. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him, there he is; his lover, Brother Adan, stepping from the bedroom to greet him in his living space.

"Hello handsome," he smirks, his eyes soft with adoration. "I saw your schedule today, figured you may want to see me?"

He was correct; Copia very much wanted to see him.

"You always know what I want before I do, eh?" Copia chuckles, slumping back against the door. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long..."

"You know I wouldn't mind if you did," he shrugs, walking over to Copia and wrapping his arms around his soft waist. "What do you need tonight, Papa? Cuddles and computer games, or do you need to uh... release your frustrations?"

Copia thought for a moment. He wasn't sure he had the energy, and frankly, he'd been commanding his clergy around all damn day. The last thing he wanted to do was come home and be the picture of dominance again. He wanted to be taken care of, to be reminded what it was like to let someone else take control. But in the arrangement Copia had with his Adan, they had never reversed the roles like that.

He was sure that he was capable, no doubt about that, but it just so happened that the natural roles of their situationship had made Copia the giver, and Adan the receiver. He hesitated, wondering if it might sound silly to request he give up his Papa authority for the night.

"Papa, what is it?" Adan asked, concerned. He could clearly see the inner battle going on behind his bewitching eyes.

"I... was wondering if..." Copia stutters, stumbling over his words like a fool. "If you would... maybe, eh... take control, tonight?" Adan tilts his head in question, the request sinking in.

"You mean... take care of you?" he smiles, running his fingertips through Copia's greying and overgrown hair. Copia nods meekly, unable to look him in the eye. "Oh, Copia... Don't feel any shame for that. Of course I can. You must be so tired of being in command all the time, hm?"

Copia meets his eyes, full of understanding and compassion. "Sí..."

"I'm sorry I never offered this before. You must have thought I was only happy to bottom, hm?" Adan chuckled. "I just thought that's what you wanted, but I can do both, my love." Adan moves the hand still around Copia's waist to his gloved hand, lacing his fingers with his own. "Come on, come and lay down with me."

Adan slowly leads Copia into the bedroom, gently as if guiding an exhausted gazelle to a watering hole. Copia could already feel himself sinking into a role of submission, tension beginning to drain from his shoulders from the relief of being allowed the space to fall.

Without a word, Adan sat him at the end of the bed, crouching down at his feet to remove his shoes and socks one at a time. Copia sat and watched, dumbfounded, as Adan meticulously and slowly undressed him layer by layer, until he was sat completely nude and vulnerable. Then as Adan stood upright and stepped back, he held eye contact with Copia, sweet and playful, as he too undressed himself.

"Lay back, Copia," he instructed, crawling onto the bed beside him and following until they both lay on the pillows, Copia on his back and staring innocently into Adan's eyes who lay on his side, propped up by his elbow.

Adan began to trace his fingertips over Copia's bare chest, running through the salt and pepper chest hair over his pecks and down across his stomach, only to tease as he got lower by retreating back up. Copia gulped, his bare hands balling into fists at his sides to refrain from moving. Adan didn't miss the way his cock, laying heavy and soft against his hip, had begun to fill out just from the lightest of touches.

Adan's hand travelled down the length of Copia's torso one more time, before retreating and coming to cradle his cheek and pull him towards him for a deep, slow kiss. Copia moaned immediately, gripping the sheets below him. His mind went blank, any and all stress from the day clearing out only to be replaced by fog.

As they lost themselves in their slow kiss, tongues marrying together deliciously, Adan reached his hand down one more time, finally reaching for Copia's length and palming him against his thigh. It hadn't taken long, but both men were completely erect, enjoying the sensual nature of their embrace.

As soon as Adan's hand finally wrapped around Copia's shaft, his jaw went slack, a moan rumbling from within. Adan kept kissing him, unbothered that Copia had stopped and only wanting to continue to please his Papa.

"Is this enough, my love? Or do you wish for more tonight?" he asked, wanting to give Copia the experience he needed tonight, utterly selflessly.

"Per favore, amore... will you fill me? I-It's been so long since I've felt that," he gasped, stuttering while Adan's hand worked him in long, languid strokes.

"Of course, sweet thing. Let me prep you first, hm? We can't rush this..."

"Sí, sí," Copia babbled, allowing Adan to roll him over onto his front and spread his knees just enough. Copia kept supplies in his bedside cabinet for convenience since Adan began staying the night a lot more often, and so Adan reached for the bottle of lubrication he knew he'd need.

He still lay beside Copia, wanting him to feel secure, loved and comforted by his body pressing into his, still able to deliver kisses and praises directly to Copia's ear.

He began with one finger, allowing the slick digit to circle Copia's already fluttering rim before he attempted to dip inside. Copia felt incredibly relaxed already, but with the stimulation to his hole he was struggling all the more to keep his hips still against the bed, rutting his erection into the mattress. Adan just smiled at his responsive partner, knowing he was already feeling the pleasure he'd intended.

With an extra drizzle of lubrication, Adan began to press his fingertip into Copia, slowly to accommodate the stretch that he certainly wasn't used to these days. Copia groaned in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut as he buried half his face in the pillow below him. His paints were going to transfer to the sheets, but that was a problem for later. He needed grounding in that moment.

Adan did his best to work Copia open with just the one finger at first, eventually adding two. All the while, Copia was losing his mind at the sensation. So close to his prostate, and yet, not enough for stimulation; it was winding him up, building a knot of dull tension in his abdomen.

With some time, Adan was able to use three fingers, widening the gap for himself to fit neatly inside when the time came. Copia's groans and whines were muffled by his pillow, and yet each one travelled straight down to Adan's cock, which Copia could feel against his hip while he toyed with his hole.

"A-Adan, please..." Copia begged, professing that he was ready without having to say the words.

"Shhh, it's okay Copia. I've got you," he soothed, retracting his fingers and rolling Copia onto his side so he faced away from him. He reached for the lube again, this time coating his own length generously, before dribbling more where Copia would need him. "We'll take it slow, hm?"

"Yes, yes, just please... I need you, Adan..." Adan chuckled a little at that, sliding his palm between Copia's thighs so he could lift one and allow him the room to line his tip up with Copia's hole.

The initial stretch was uncomfortable, but not entirely unpleasant thanks to Adan's careful preparation. And still, he was gentle, giving Copia plenty of time to get used to him inch by inch. Already, Adan was becoming drunk on the gasps and moans that spilled from Copia's lips, and he couldn't help but press kisses to his neck, nipping gently at the skin whil his hands squeezed Copia's thigh in an attempt to control his own pleasures. It had been a while for Adan too, to feel the tightness of another man around him. Fuck, how he missed it...

Copia gained some confidence, rocking his hips back into Adan's and reaching his arm back to hold his hips in place to bounce against. Adan groaned against Copia's shoulder, losing himself to the passion of the moment too.

After a little while, he could take it no longer, rolling Copia to have his back pressed to his chest and sitting himself up enough to grip tightly onto the back of Copia's neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss as he pistoned his hips deep into him. Copia lifted his leg for a better angle, wrapping his own arm around Adan's bicep and holding on tightly as he groaned into the kiss, each thrust audibly stuttering his moans.

The pair were completely wrapped up in each other, losing themselves together. Adan's grip on Copia's neck tightened, before dropping down to press into Copia's stomach and digging his fingertips into the softness of his belly. Fucking hell, Adan loved his body, soft and warm in his grip. He could feel the way his stomach turned into rolls each time he thrusted into him, Copia curling up tightly each time.

With every upward thrust, Copia's prostate was throbbing with pleasure, his cock bouncing from the force of Adan's movements and aching from the lack of contact. He could only whine at the feeling of being so close, so fucking close, that he thought his entire body was about to burst.

He wanted to beg, to plead, to tell Adan how much he adored him, how much he needed this but just the thought of parting their heated kiss as he fucked into him was regretful. but it was Adan who parted first, grunting and growling in a way Copia rarely heard from him. He was about to cum deep inside his Papa, unable to stop himself and so his pace picked up, determined to finish Copia off before himself.

He reached his hand down to wrap his deft fingers around Copia's shaft, beginning to pump him to completion while he hammered into his prostate. Copia cried out, his nails digging into Adan's arm as his eyes rolled back into his head and his body lost it's fight to stay composed. Copia's cock jerked in Adan's hand, thick ropes of warm cum erupting onto his own stomach with the last remnants dribbling down Adan's fist. The sight and sound alone was enough to finish Adan off, his rhythm falling off as he shot his own load deep inside Copia.

Adan stilled, enjoying the last few minutes of connection sheathed inside Copia's warmth as the two of them came down from their highs, heavy breaths and gentle whimpers filling the silence. Copia's eyes fluttered open, searching Adan's who seemed to be doing the same - asking a silent question, or confessing a silent thought.

"I think... I think I am I love with you, Adan..." Copia whispered, losing his confidence the moment he uttered a syllable. Neither of them had expected something quite this serious when their arrangement began, but there was no denying the electricity between them.

Adan just grinned, once again holding Copia close to him by the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the sweat dampened locks of hair at the nape.

"And it would seem, Papa, I'm in love with you too," he admitted, not a moment of hesitation now he knew where Copia was too. The two men shared a soft kiss, longing for one another as if they weren't as close as could possibly be right then.

"I suggest a nice, soothing, hot bath to recover, hm? Let the stress just melt away, together?" Adan proposed, stroking the hair from Copia's forehead. He could only nod in response, too tired and drunk on him to form words. "I'll be right back, my love."

With a kiss to the tip of Copia's barely painted nose, Adan gently removed himself from his side and made his way into the bathroom to run a hot bath filled with salts and essential oils to soothe his poor Papa's body and mind.

The two of them spent the evening in the bath together, Copia enveloped in the warmth of the water and his lover behind him. He'd never been so cared for, so loved by another than he was with Adan around. Suddenly, the burden of being Papa didn't feel quite so heavy anymore...

[bigtreefest]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ransom + kiss on the cheek + “You smell good.”

Meet the Parents

Boyfriend! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 1,998

A/N: The Shameless Hoe Fairy? At my doorstep? What a surprise!! I was so excited to write this prompt, and hope I did Ransom justice.

Drabble? I don’t know her. I’ll call this a double Drabble based off word count?

Warnings: probably the most suggestive fic I’ve written, so just to be safe, minors DNI, allusions to smut, schmoozing but it’s actually so genuine, family, L-bomb, nickname/pet name usage

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You had spent two weeks coaching Ransom to meet your family. After a long phone call with your mom on the way home from work, she insisted you bring him over for dinner.

“Family should know everything about each other.” She insisted. You rolled your eyes and hummed in response. At this point, you knew that sometimes there was no fighting her and you just had to say whatever she wanted to hear.

“Okay, mom. I’ll talk to him about it, but to be fair, I haven’t even met his parents yet. Anyway, I’m pulling into my place right now. I’ve gotta let you go.” Your hand hovered over the keys in the ignition, eager to take them out as soon as she’d say goodbye.

“I don’t know why you’re kicking me off the phone so soon, but okay. We’ll plan it out for him to come over soon. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye, mom.” You turned off the car and scooped up your bag and keys, heading inside.

As soon as you hit the kitchen, you flailed your arms out, dropping all your stuff on the island. You and Ransom had plans for him to come over and cook with you tonight, but after that call, there was no way that was gonna happen. You could only allocate your energy towards so much at a time.

You had considered asking Ransom if he wouldn’t mind doing the majority of the work for the meal tonight since the two of you had picked up the groceries over the weekend, but quickly thought better. You were already exhausted, no need to add a kitchen cluttered with dirty dishes and burnt food to the list.

You picked up your phone from the mess you made and called Ransom, surprised it only took one ring before he picked up.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I’m on the way over now. You better have a good recipe up your sleeve, because I’m driving through a row of restaurants and the scent is heavenly.” You wanted to laugh but your body felt too weighed down.

“About that, Ran. Can there be a change of plans? I know I said I’d teach you a new recipe tonight, but I have next to no energy left. Will you actually just pick something up? Your choice.”

The line went silent for a beat before you had to pull the phone away from your ear at Ransom’s boisterous response. “THANK GOD. Yes, I’ll do that. Be there in 20.”

And with that he hung up the phone and you flopped down on the couch waiting for him to arrive.

Ransom’s knock on your door jerked you awake. You responded with a rasp. “It’s open.”

He made his way over to you and set down the bags of food on your coffee table.

“Hi, Ranny.” You smiled up at him, your eyes still half lidded with sleep.

Ransom reached for your hands, draping them over the back of his neck as he crouched over you, eventually lowering himself down so his head was on your chest, the rest of his broad form blanketing you on the couch. You kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair as he mumbled through his squished cheeks. “What’s got you all like…this?” He gestured to your face without looking up.

He still wasn’t that great at expressing his care for the emotions of others, but for you, he was trying. You sighed and patted his shoulders.

“Food first, then I’ll tell you.”

You pushed back your takeout box on the coffee table and finally looked up at Ransom. He had been eyeing you skeptically the whole meal, leaning against the bottom of the couch, both of you sitting on the floor, as he ate his own food. It wasn’t like him to be that quiet. He must’ve been worried.

“Hi.” You softly whispered to him, looking back into his piercing gaze.

“Hi. You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” He returned with a gentle sternness in his tone.

You nodded, your shoulders rolling back as you built up the courage to address this big of a topic. “My parents want to meet you.”

Ransom’s jaw stopped chewing his food. He set down his utensils and swallowed, shifting to put his elbows on the table to look at you. “Okay… what’s so wrong with that? Parents love me.”

You grimaced, you really liked him, but didn’t want to subject your relationship to the gauntlet of your family.

“Nothing, really, it’s just, my parents are very traditional. Like, super religious and conservative.”

Ransom continued to look at you intently, nodding slowly. “So what exactly are you saying? I wouldn’t be approved by your parents?”

“No! I’m not saying that at all, I just want to make sure they see how great you are. They tend to judge harshly and quickly. The first time I brought a guy home, they literally said, ‘Yeah, I think you’d be better as friends. Let him down easy.’ And I never saw him again because couldn’t handle their disappointed faces every time I mentioned his name. I don’t want to have to go through that with you- no, I can’t go through that with you because I love you and you’re it for me.”

Ransom’s eyes went wide. That was the first time you had said it and he was surprised by how quotidian it seemed. Like you should’ve been saying it this whole time. Your eyes went wide as well with surprise at what had slipped out as his face morphed into a grin. It wasn’t shit-eating or mischievous, it was full of love and… lust?

“Get over here.” You silently scooted around the coffee table on your knees and made your way to Ransom as he reached his arms out and guided you into his lap. He pulled you close so your noses were touching, his long eyelashes fluttering along your cheeks as you whimpered.

“Let me show you how much I love you. I’ll savor you right here and treat you like the only woman on Earth, because you’re it for me, too.” Ransom made a move to press his lips against yours, but you pulled back.

“Wait, Ran. There’s something I have to tell you first.” His eyes darted in between yours with concern.

“My parents still think I’m a virgin.” His shoulders dropped as he looked at you incredulously, head cocked to the side.

“Is that it? I mean, we both know you’re far from pure already if I’ve got anything to say about it.” The corner of his mouth turned up and you hid your head in his neck. You pulled back, pushing your hands against his shoulders to keep distance so you could focus enough to get the rest of the information out.

“Just, with everything I told you, there are some household rules we’ll have to follow.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, kissing a trail up your forearm.

“Ran, I mean it. No kissing around them, not on the lips at least. Forehead and cheek only.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He continued, kissing his way up the other arm.

“Seriously, and no inappropriate touching, or private conversations in a separate room.”

His trail continued up your neck. “Is that all?”

You sighed and tilted your head back, closing your eyes. “You probably have to bring a bottle of wine. And flowers for my mom and sister.” You meant to sound stern, but it came out as more of a gasp.

“Consider it done, sweetheart.” He moved up your cheek, then leaned in for a deep kiss that left you breathless.

Two weeks later, you were staying at your parents’ house for a long weekend. They had come to pick you up, and Ransom was going to drive you back home after the meal so you could go to work the next morning. Letting Ransom stay over would probably never be a thought in their mind until the two of you were married, so he was only coming over for Sunday night dinner.

You were nervous and hoped his weeks of prep had been taken to heart. On a normal day with Ransom, he was all over you, so you had no idea how he was going to keep his hands to himself, if only for a few hours.

You had told him your parents valued punctuality, too, having met in the military, so you were delighted to hear the doorbell at 5:15 when they’d told him to be there at 5:30.

You ran down the steps and opened the door to be greeted by your boyfriend holding two bouquets and a bottle of wine as your mother followed closely behind you. Ransom was looking more handsome than usual, if that was even possible, with his signature sweater and carefully styled hair. You preferred it floofy and a little messy, as it was most mornings, but it was perfect for your mom to see him.

Ransom handed you the bottle of wine as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” You blushed and gestured toward your mom with your free hand.

“Mom, this is Ransom, Ransom, I’d like you to mee-“

Before you could even finish the introduction, she cut you off. “Mom, you can call me Mom, dear. It’s so great to meet you.” Ransom laughed and handed her a bouquet of flowers with charm before she pulled him in for a hug. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the greeting. You’d never seen her be this welcoming before, even when your sister brought her husband home for the first time. Ransom looked over his shoulder at you and winked as your mother dragged him into the living room to meet the rest of the family.

You made your way to the kitchen with the bottle of wine, catching your dad who was finishing up the meal.

“Hey Dad, Ransom just got here. Need any help finishing up?” He looked up from the pot he was stirring and squinted to read the label on the bottle of wine in your hands.

“Ah, that’s a good one. Why don’t you pull out some glasses and open it up so we can get it airing. Would you be a dear and help me take this all out to the table? I’m gonna go introduce myself.”

You nodded and got to work running the dishes out to the dining room.

Dinner with Ransom went off without a hitch. He was a perfect gentleman without it seeming forced, engaging in conversation with your family with ease. Every topic he brought up complimented you and touched on your best moments with each other, your sister and her husband chiming in on their similar experiences and your parents looking at the two of you with approval and admiration.

When it was time to go, your parents made you each a bag full of leftovers, insisting you’d both have dinners for the whole week. You smiled and happily took them, waving goodbye until they closed the door behind you. Ransom grabbed your hand, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between your bodies before walking you to the other side of his Beamer. He opened the passenger door for you before he grabbed the bag of food out of your hands and placed it in the back along with his. He leaned into the car, finally out of the line of sight of your parents’ windows as he buckled you into your seat. As he leaned back, he kissed you on the cheek again before nosing against your neck.

“You smell good. So good I almost went crazy when I first got here.” He pulled back, pupils blown with lust, swallowing his icy irises, as he leaned in with his arm resting against the roof of the car.

“Now let’s take you home so I can take you apart.”

Part 2

[ineedhaikyu]

Chapter Two

Summary: Inarizaki vs Karasuno. Foxes vs Crows. A match between two powerhouses competing for the next slot in Nationals and while tensions were high, Karasuno’s ace couldn’t help but look forward to the upcoming match. Or rather he was looking forward to seeing her.

Word Count: 8.9K

Warnings: A long fic with a huge amount of fluff! Once again Asahi's anxiety will be mentioned. Conversations are prolonged between reader and Asahi in order to establish a well-meaning relationship. Brief description of reader's hair.

A/N: PART 2 to Glass-Hearted Ace!! A lot of people wanted a continuation so here it is!! I had so much fun writing this because I absolutely love the adorable craziness that goes on in Haikyu as well as spreading more love to our gentle giant. Let's keep spreading our Asahi love!!

~

3rd POV

Day 2 of Nationals. The second round has already begun with the first match of the day. It wouldn't be long for the next match to start. Karasuno vs Inarizaki. The atmosphere was filled with the same energy of anticipation and eagerness just as it was the other day though multiplied by a hundred.

As this was her third and final year in participating in the Spring Tournament, (L/N) (Y/N) felt confident enough to say she was calm and collected. (Y/N) smiled to herself when she compared her younger first-year self to now. Back then, she was such a nervous wreck. Always getting lost on her way to the restroom or the time she followed the wrong team to the WRONG gym. (It wasn’t her fault that the team wore the same maroon jackets. Good thing that happened in her first year otherwise Suna and the Miya twins would never live it down.)

(Y/N) shook those thoughts away and continued her way to the gym where her team was preparing for their match. She was only gone for a few minutes as she had to fill up the water bottles, but knowing the second-years (Y/N) knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. Luckily, the Karasuno volleyball team hadn't arrived yet when she left but perhaps they have already.

The familiar warm feeling returned at the thought of seeing Karasuno’s team. More specifically the team’s ace. Azumane Asahi. The same guy that caught her eye when he played volleyball. The same guy she met yesterday who saved her from getting hurt. The same guy that made her believe in the lyrics of all those love songs.

(Y/N) wanted to say she was a good judge of character and she had a good feeling about Asahi.

A sweet guy, every bit of a gentleman. Very cute too. Every time his soft brown eyes met with hers, she swore it reminded her of a cute puppy. His smile didn’t bring a few butterflies in her stomach… No. They brought a swarm. Each flap of their metaphorical wings gave her the shivers but the grin on her lips never left when she was with him. Even his hair played a part of her enchantment on him. It’s not often to see guys with long hair, but Asahi pulled it off amazingly well especially when he has it in a man bun. Despite his tough guy appearance, Asahi was a gentle giant with a glass heart. In the little time she knew him, (Y/N) hoped she was able to help him realize his self-worth.

God. It hasn’t been 24 hours and not once has Asahi left her mind. They texted each other last night for almost two hours. The conversation between them flowed so easily. Just like before, (Y/N) enjoyed talking to him. Not once had he made her uncomfortable. Quite the opposite actually.

The next morning she woke up early enough to do research on Karasuno’s team. While Inarizaki’s motto was: we don’t need the memories, (Y/N) couldn’t help but see how Karasuno was like from their past matches. They’re different from any other teams they’ve competed against. Besides, it was nice matching names with faces. Luckily, someone made ‘I’m Awesome’ videos of Karasuno’s starting lineup. She’ll admit whoever made these videos was good as they depicted amazing receives to jaw-dropping spikes.

She recognized Daichi, Suga, and Asahi immediately. Their libero, Nishinoya Yū, looked high caliber and so was their setter. She’ll keep her opinions to herself on Kageyama; she didn’t need Atsumu hearing her say that. They’ll have to keep a lookout on Karasuno’s #10, Hinata Shoyo. He’s on the short side considering he’s a middle blocker but judging by the video, the first-year is full of surprises.

Then again, the Inarizaki volleyball team has a few tricks up their sleeves too.

“Ah. Look, it's her!”

“(Y/N)- senpai!”

“Over here!”

The said manager snapped back to reality and was confronted by the usual crowd of fans in front of her. Inarizaki always show their pride with each event but with volleyball, they took it to another level. Then it doubled with the arrival of the Miya twins. Their popularity soared to new heights and as a result the marching band, cheerleaders, and several students took part in Nationals. Both a blessing and a curse.

The curse part? Well, as much as she loved her school’s support, the fangirls… Well…

“(Y/N)-senpai! Can you give this to Atsumu?!”

“Oh, please give these chocolates to Osamu! I made them last night!”

“(Y/N), is there any way I can get a picture with Suna? Please!”

Yeah… This was pretty much the usual for her but this time it was going too far. Girls ranging from first-years to third-years were blocking the entrance to the gym. She recognized some as fellow classmates but others she was almost positive they came from other schools. And they were all trying to catch a glimpse of their favorite player.

Despite the hectic scene in front of her, there were two girls that caught her attention.

One of them looked the same age as her with beautiful black hair that reached her shoulders and fair skin complexion except for the beauty mark underneath her lower lip. Her gray eyes seemed to sparkle behind her thin framed glasses. The other girl looked visibly younger with her petite frame and blonde hair that was styled with a star hair clip. Right away (Y/N) knew that the girl was a first-year. She could see the way the girl was trembling at the sight of the crowd.

They didn’t look like they were a part of the crowd, but they did look troubled. That’s when she noticed they were carrying water bottle carriers just like her. They must be the Karasuno team’s managers. In the spirit of good sportsmanship, (Y/N) decided to go talk to them.

The older girl noticed her first. She stepped in front of the blonde girl as if shielding her. (Y/N) didn’t let that get to her. Instead, she smiled and introduced herself.

“Hi. I’m (L/N) (Y/N). I’m the manager for the Inarizaki team. Are you two the managers for Karasuno?”

The two girls glanced at one another before nodding in unison.

“My name is Shimizu Kiyoko. Third-year.”

“I-I’m Y-Yachi H-Hitoka! F-First-year m-manager! I-It’s very n-nice t-to m-meet y-you!”

“Hey, there. No need to be scared of me. I’m just a manager, just like you.” (Y/N) tried her best to console the first-year’s anxious nature. It was almost like deja-vu with Asahi. “Are you excited for today?”

Kiyoko nodded, finally feeling at ease with her. “The team has worked hard to get to this point.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night because I was so nervous!” Hitoka added while trying to fan herself in order to cool down her face. “But the team is excited to play against the team that placed second place in the last Interhigh!”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done your research. I’m impressed. But don’t worry, we still have some tricks under our sleeves. We know we’re up against a great team.”

The Karasuno managers felt the same warm feeling coursing underneath their skin at the compliment.

“Does that mean you’ve done research on our team?” Kiyoko asked.

(Y/N) nodded. “Of course. I like to be prepared.” Her cheeks began to warm up when she thought of Karasuno’s ace. “You two have impressive players on the team. Are they in the gym?”

“Yes. They’re practicing right now. We went to get some water for the match when this happened.” Kiyoko gestured to the sea of girls in front of them.

“We tried to get through but they’re scary!” Hitoka was practically shaking in her shoes. “The first match is already playing their second set.”

“Man! I swear time flies around here. Come on, I’ll help you through.” (Y/N) gestured to the girls to follow her. “We can’t let our teams forget us.”

“Are you sure?” Kiyoko asked her. “We can find another way.”

(Y/N) shook her head and gave them a carefree grin. “This is the best way into the gym. Trust me, I’ll get us in there.”

“W-Why a-are you h-helping us?” Hitoka stuttered out. “A-Aren’t you scared of them?”

“Well us managers have to stick together, right? And trust me, after dealing with the Miya twins for a year, these girls don’t scare me.”

Taking her word for it, the pair of Karasuno managers followed her. As expected the crowd of girls showed no sign of parting, in fact, it has grown in number. Kiyoko and Hitoka were waiting for (Y/N) to politely ask the girls to move aside, like they did before, but the Inarizaki manager did something quite unexpected.

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled, “Cover your ears.”

The girls obeyed. Lucky for them. Unlucky for the fangirls.

Because (Y/N) let out the loudest whistle anyone had ever heard. A series of groans and shrieks were heard from the fangirls. Then they all had turned to face the managers.

“(Y/N)-senpai? What was that for?!” One of the fangirls that she recognized as an underclassman.

“Oh, come on guys. I warned everyone last time this would happen.” The manager told them, not an ounce of fear in her voice as she addressed the crowd.

“B-But we just want to see the twins practice!” A girl holding a hand fan with the words ‘Miya Twins’ on it. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“The boys need to warm up. You’ll see them on the court. Do yourselves a favor and find good seats to watch and cheer from.”

“Aww but (Y/N)!” They complained.

“You guys know the rules. Now, please, let me and my friends,” She stepped aside to reveal her new manager friends, “get into the gym. We need to do our jobs as managers. Don’t make me tell Kita-san and have him ban all of you from watching practice matches in the future.”

At the mention of the serious captain and under the threat of closed practices, the fangirls dispersed quickly. Some had the sense to apologize and others wished them good fortune on the upcoming match.

“W-Wow.” Hitoka said in awe. “You knew exactly what to do. That’s amazing.”

Kiyoko agreed before asking, “Does this happen a lot?”

(Y/N) let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah… They’re big fans of the team and they mean well but sometimes their excitement can take it too far. As Inarizaki’s manager, sometimes I feel responsible for their behavior.” She bowed her head and continued on. “I apologize on their behalf for any trouble they may have caused you two.”

The youngest manager out of the three was speechless at the older girl’s sincere words in her apology. They’ve only known the Inarizaki manager for like ten minutes but she proved herself to them that she’s a kindhearted yet self-assured person. One look at her senpai and Yachi knew that they were thinking the same thing.

What Yachi didn’t know, Shimizu was smiling for a different reason. Yesterday, she accidentally overheard her fellow third-years talking. She didn’t mean to listen in and she was about to leave when the topic of the conversation caught her attention. Apparently, a girl caught her friend Asahi’s eye. A girl from the Inarizaki team that, according to Suga, sounded like the perfect girl for her anxious friend. So when the girl’s name came up, (Y/N), Shimizu wanted to see for herself what the girl was like.

Now that she has, Shimizu can see how and why Asahi would fall for her.

“Don’t apologize,” Kiyoko finally spoke up and offered the girl a kind smile. “Sometimes, these things happen.”

“You sure? I mean, this might happen again when we have to go into the main gym. There are some fans of the Miya twins that can be a bit… Fierce. If you want, I can help out. It’s no trouble at all.”

Kiyoko shook her head. “It’s okay, (Y/N). We can handle it. Right, Hitoka-chan?”

The first-year nodded eagerly. “Yeah! We’ll be okay. The guys on our team can be scary too. Ah! I need to tell the team that the first match is already in the second set. It was very nice to meet you!”

The third-year managers watched in amusement as she scurried into the gym. (Y/N) smiled before facing Kiyoko. She offered her hand for a handshake and said, “I know it’s customary for players to shake hands before and after the match, but I do it too with the managers. Let’s have a good game.”

Kiyoko took her hand and squeezed. “May the best team win. No hard feelings, right?”

(Y/N) laughed and nodded. “I like you, Shimizu, but yeah, no hard feelings at all.”

“Please call me Kiyoko.”

~Meanwhile inside the gym, ten minutes earlier~

‘Where is she?’ Asahi thought as his eyes searched the other side of the court. ‘Is she hiding from me? Did he say something that scared her away? What if he creeped her out last night when they texted each other?’

“Yo Asahi!” Suga’s energetic voice scared him back to reality. “Are you looking for someone?”

He didn’t miss his friend’s teasing tone that laced his words nor the way his eyes shined in amusement. Leave it to Suga to tease the hell out of him. Last night, for example, was too much. Even after he told his friends about his time with the Inarizaki manager, Suga still wanted to know everything, down to the last detail. Luckily, Daichi took pity on him and reeled Suga back on a somewhat normal level of interrogation.

But that didn’t mean he was going to drop the subject completely.

“I can’t find (Y/N).” He admitted to his friend. “Have you seen her?”

“Hmm. Not yet. But I wouldn’t worry too much. Her team’s here so I’m sure she’s somewhere around here. She’s their manager after all.” Suga clapped his shoulder. “But if you really want to know where (Y/N) is, why don’t you go ask her teammates?”

Suga pointed to the nearby Inarizaki members that were practicing their spikes. He recognized the Miya twins and Inarizaki’s ace, Ojiro Aran. And while he saw how they played from previous matches last night, it didn’t ease the anxiety clawing its way around his heart. It also didn’t help when one of the wing spikers turned the set into a powerful spike. The impact of the ball being slammed to the floor echoed throughout the gym.

Just the very action scared Suga’s suggestion out the window. There was no way he was going over there and ask about their manager! If they were anything like Tanaka or Nishinoya, then he’ll be ripped to shreds.

“N-No way!” He stuttered out a reply and waved his hands in front of him. The slight blush on his face was becoming more visible by each second. “But I’m worried. What if something happened to her?”

“Her who?” Daichi asked as he came up from behind them. “What’s going on?”

Suga answered before he could. “Well, our dear old ace here, is worried that his crush is somewhere out there dying without him knowing. And he’s too scared to ask her friends where she is.”

Karasuno’s captain chuckled and patted Asahi on the back. “Quit worrying. I know you saved her yesterday, but this isn’t a little girl you’re talking about. She can hold her own. After all, this isn’t her first time here in Nationals.”

“See, Asahi?” Suga, clearly amused by this whole conversation, told him. “There’s nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t be surprised if she walked through those gym doors right now.”

He pointed to the entrance and they followed it only to see a swarm of girls trying to catch a glimpse inside the gym.

“You mean those doors?” He asked his friend. “They look ready to burst in here.”

“Who are they?” Daichi asking the question everyone was wondering.

“Judging by the hand fans, I think they’re fans of the Miya twins. They must be really popular to have this many. That’s annoying.” Suga muttered the last part with a pout.

“Can anyone get through?” Asahi wondered as he avoided eye contact with the girls. Something about them unnerved him somehow even if they wore bright smiles and loud cheers. “They look vicious.”

“They’re fans, not witches.” Daichi stated. “I’m sure they’re nice. After all, they're showing their support to their team.”

“Let it go, Daichi. Asahi is only like this because he misses his dream girl.” Suga jested. “He’s going into withdrawal.”

“I was just hoping to see her. She texted me-”

“Woah! Woah! Texted?! When did this happen?” asked Suga, his eyes wide with this new information. “You’re at the texting-each-other stage?!”

“Was that who you were texting last night?” Daichi asked him.

“What?!” Suga exclaimed. “Daichi, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were asleep and I was tired.” The captain defended. “And it isn’t my business who Asahi texts. He’s old enough to make his own decisions… That being said, what did you guys talk about?”

“You didn’t tell her our secret weapons, did you?” Suga whispered his question, referring to all the tricks they perfected in the past few months.

“(Y/N) isn’t like that, Suga. She didn’t squeeze any information out of me. We picked up where we left off and talked about normal stuff. We thought it was better than to talk about the match between our schools.”

“And what did you guys text about?” The vice captain pressed, eager to know more.

For some reason, Asahi couldn’t help but recall how he initiated the conversation with the pretty manager from Inarizaki. Actually it was more like he couldn’t believe he was texting with (Y/N) last night. It felt unreal, like a dream. After reading her note, he remembered how hard his heart was beating and how warm his cheeks grew.

Ever since she mentioned it in her note, admitting how he made her nervous, Asahi took some comfort that he can do the same to her and vice versa.

Though, she did prove herself to be bravely spontaneous when she wrote the note and after texting with her last night, he hoped he could do the same. One of his many concerns since starting high school was that girls in his class were always disappointed after finding out his timid personality didn’t match his physical appearance. He’ll never forget the time when one of the girls called him a wuss. It was years ago but the girl’s remark was like a stab wound in the back. It healed over time but it still made its mark on his self-image.

Luckily, (Y/N) wasn’t like any of the girls in his class. She’s so kind when she bought him a shirt as a gift. She’s so understanding when she patiently listened to his problems. She showed compassion when she offered some advice to help ease the anxiety that almost suffocated him. Then there was that beautiful confidence she had in herself. He liked that about her and while he just met (Y/N) yesterday, he wanted to prove to her that he can be confident too.

That’s why he’s been looking for her. He wanted to be the first to greet her. It might not seem like a big deal to others, but it was to him.

‘Baby steps,’ He thought when he was second-guessing himself. ‘What was that saying? Rome wasn’t built in a day. Well, that applies here too. Bit by bit, confidence will grow.’

“Asahi? Earth to ace?”

“Huh?”

“You zoned out there for a second.” A smirk appeared on Suga’s face. “Must be quite a conversation you had with her. Wouldn’t you say Daichi?”

It was always nerve-wracking to have both Daichi and Suga tease him. So it wouldn’t be a surprise if the captain joined in on the teasing. But to his surprise, Daichi clapped him on the back causing him to huff a bit under his breath.

“Well, I think (Y/N) is the kind of girl that can make our dear ace invincible. Make sure to show what you’re made of during this match.”

“Yeah!” Suga encouraged, his hand clapping the ace’s free shoulder. “Let her see how awesome you are on the court.”

“No pressure or anything.” Daichi added, his smile matching Suga’s teasing grin.

“None at all!” Suga piped in. “Just remember she’ll be watching you when it’s your turn to serve. Don’t mess up!”

“You guys aren’t helping!” He yelled at his friends. His face burned in embarrassment.

Daichi and Suga laughed but before anyone could say another word that could cause further humiliation for the ace, Asahi’s saving grace came in the form of their first-year manager running into the gym. He thanked whatever deity who was watching over this episode that spared him from further teasing from his friends.

“The first match is in the middle of their second set.” Hitoka informed them.

Daichi nodded and clapped his hands together. In a loud voice, he announced, “Alright, guys. Let’s get into our uniforms.”

Following the captain's orders, Asahi grabbed his alternate orange jersey and placed it over a nearby chair. He looked across the gym and saw the Inarizaki players putting on their uniforms as well. Still no sign of (Y/N).

“Hitoka-chan, wasn’t Shimizu with you?” Suga asked.

The first-year nodded. “We made a new friend just now. She helped us out when we couldn’t get into the gym. I think she’s still talking to her by the doors.”

Asahi tuned out their conversation as he took off his shirt. In his head, he had to concentrate on calming down his nerves. The scariest moments of his life played like an endless nightmare. Like the time when he was a kid and he had to show his parents the bad grade on his report card. Or the time he wanted to pet the neighbor’s puppy but ended up getting chased by the puppy’s mother. Or how Date Tech’s iron wall blocked every single spike; shaking him to the core so much that he temporarily stopped playing volleyball.

The whirlpool of anxiety and dread arrived on schedule in his stomach. Was it getting harder to breathe? Was the air getting warmer? Or was he getting colder? Yeah, no. He was definitely getting colder. His hands felt like a block of ice. Was he this nervous during the Shiratorizawa match? Probably. He made a mental note to trace 人 on his hand, hoping it was enough to settle down his nerves.

He threw his jersey on and was just about to fix his loose hair strands when he heard a familiar laugh coming from the entrance. He looked up to see Kiyoko laughing along with another girl. It was only a glance, a quick one, when he did a double take. He couldn’t believe it.

(L/N) (Y/N), the girl that caused his brain cells to go on a roller coaster ride, was standing there in all her beauty.

She was having a conversation with Kiyoko and by the looks of it, she must have said something funny because it made his usual shy and quiet manager laugh a little. Now he was 100% convinced that (Y/N) had a natural aura that eased people on friendly terms if she was able to hold an amiable conversation with Kiyoko.

Not to mention her smile that complimented her eyes that seemed to shine in excitement. Or how her hair was styled a bit different from yesterday. This time her hair was pinned back from her face with two small side braids connected together where it fell in rhythm with the rest of her hair. It looked cute on her, lovely even. Should he mention that to her or would that be too weird?

SLAP!

“Ow!” Asahi turned around to find the culprit who slapped the (for lack of a better word) living shit onto his back. Nishinoya didn’t have an ounce of shame or regret in his eyes. Quite the opposite actually as the libero was smiling ear to ear. “Nishinoya? What was that for?”

With no remorse, the second-year player ignored the question and asked several of his own. “That’s her, right? The Inarizaki manager? The one who’s talking to Kiyoko-san? The girl you like?”

He could feel his ears begin to burn. “H-How did you know?”

“That’s not important.”

Asahi begged to differ as he thought it made a world of difference now that Nishinoya knows about his crush.

With his arms crossed in front of his chest, the libero continued, “What are you doing standing here? Go over there and talk to her! Be a man!”

“I-It’s not that simple. I need to build myself up before I talk to her. And then I need to think of a topic that we can talk about. Then what type of questions I should ask-”

“Oh come on Asahi! You have to stop acting like a cowardly wimp. Man up and go! She’s right there!”

“J-Just give me a second and I will.”

Nishinoya was just about to retort back when he realized something. This was the first time Asahi was nervous, visibly and mentally, for a girl. Well, scratch that. Asahi was always nervous around girls but this was the first time he seemed to actively try to impress someone. Like the way he repeatedly made sure his jersey was tucked in, double-knotted his shoelaces, and double-checked his hair was safely tied in his usual bun.

So he did what any good friend would do. “You look great, Asahi.”

With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, the ace stood up straight. “You think so?”

“Personally, I don’t care about what other people think about my looks.”

Asahi physically deflated at those words. If only he could borrow some of his friend’s confidence.

“But then again I’m awesome.”

The ace couldn’t argue with that one. But before he could wallow in a pool of anxiety and dread, the libero’s next words saved him from drowning. Along with a strong slap on the shoulder that could echo throughout the gym.

“You’re awesome too. You’re the ace of our team. Take pride in that.”

Asahi took his friend’s words to heart as he stood up a bit straighter. He glanced up to look at (Y/N) who looked breathtaking while wearing her maroon Inarizaki jacket. If only she wore a black Karasuno jacket… He could just imagine the alternate dimension where she could have been a classmate, a close friend, or even something more.

“I… I don’t want to mess this up, Noya.”

Concerned, Nishinoya asked, “How would you mess up?”

“I don’t know! Anything could happen. With my luck, I could trip over myself in front of her. I want to be confident and go over to her and say hi-””

“Alright. Then let’s go.”

Asahi’s mind froze. “What?”

“You heard me. Let’s do what you said and walk up to your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

Nishinoya rolled his eyes but the grin on his face showed no sign of leaving. “Fine. The girl you wish to be your girlfriend. We’ll go together. You’ll say hi and introduce me to her because I want to know what kind of girl makes you act this way.”

Asahi could feel his face turning red. “Okay, let’s go. But please don’t say anything embarrassing. Daichi and Suga did enough of that yesterday.”

His friend laughed loudly before slapping his shoulder. “You really need to grow a backbone off the court, especially if you want to impress your crush. But don’t worry, I have your back.”

~

(Y/N) felt as if she met her long-lost sister through Karasuno’s manager. Kiyoko definitely could relate to the ups and downs that comes with managing a group of boys (especially rowdy second-years). But she admired her commitment. Being a third-year, specifically attending Nationals, it was their last chance to help their respective team to make it to the top.

“So, how are you feeling about being here?” She asked as they sat down on a nearby bench. They still had time before the ongoing match ended. Why not take the opportunity and spend time with her new friend?

“It’s unreal. Sometimes it feels like a dream. A lot of people doubted us since we were a forgotten powerhouse. We were devastated when we lost in the third round of the Interhigh to Aoba Johsai. Our only chance to get to Nationals was to win all our matches.”

“Woah, I can only imagine the pressure your team had on their shoulders. More so on the third-years.” She took a chance to look for Asahi. Her eyes automatically found him and she couldn’t help but smile. It looked like he was having a conversation with the libero. “How did you guys manage all that?”

Kiyoko shrugged her shoulders but she had a faint smile before answering, “It was rough. But we didn’t want to give up on volleyball. Not when there was a chance to make it here. It was a risk. Our advisor warned us third-years to take our future into account before we made our decision.”

“And now you guys are here! I have to give you and your team respect, Kiyoko.”

Kiyoko laughed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. It’s been a journey and we’re ready to play against the best.”

“Trust me the feeling is mutual.”

“Speaking of feelings,” Kiyoko began with a teasing tone. “I’ve heard there’s a guy on my team that caught your eye.”

(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh as she looked away. “He told you?”

“Not directly but Daichi and Suga weren’t exactly keeping it down about it. Asahi is usually quiet. But he sounded happy when he talked about you. I think you helped him in more ways than one because I’ve never heard him sound so confident.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help but smile widely. “You're not just saying that, are you?”

Kiyoko shook her head. “I don’t know what you told him but it looks like he took it to heart.”

“I just spoke the truth. He helped me so it’s only fair that I helped him too. He’s a gentle giant that needs a boost in confidence.”

“Do you like him?”

“Well… It’s too soon to tell but I think so. Asahi is not like any other guy I’ve met. I just want a chance to get to know him more and vice versa.”

“So like a date before the actual date?”

“Exactly!” It was like Kiyoko and her were on the same wavelength. “Is that too weird? Or is it stupid? I mean, I just met him yesterday and so far he seems like a great guy but like… I’m nervous. He makes me nervous and… Shoot. I’m sorry for rambling.”

“Hey, it’s reasonable to think and feel that way. Take it from me, Asahi really is a good guy. He can be a scaredy-cat sometimes and can be insecure about a lot of stuff but he really means well.”

“I saw that side of him yesterday. He’s the type to shoulder all the blame, isn’t he?” (Y/N) asked.

Kiyoko nodded. “He’s still our ace and he’s been working harder than ever to prove it.”

(Y/N) remained silent, taking in all the information Kiyoko told her. She looked for Asahi again and smiled when she saw him getting clapped on the shoulder by the libero.

“Does that bother you?” Kiyoko asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Confused, (Y/N) furrowed her brow before asking, “What do you mean?”

“Does it bother you that Asahi is the ace but he doesn’t have an ace-like presence?”

While Kiyoko hated asking the question she believed it was an important one. Girls can be ruthless. She heard the gossip from other girls and how they talk about Asahi behind his back. Calling him a wimp or how he was a part of a gang. As Asahi’s friend, she felt it was her responsibility to see if the girl he has a crush for is actually genuine in her feelings towards him. Because as much as she enjoyed (Y/N)’s company, Kiyoko will choose to defend Asahi over her.

“Should that be important? If anything, it goes to show how different Asahi is. When I saw him play yesterday, I knew he was an amazing ace but when I talked to him and got to know him… I saw a guy who’s not ashamed to admit his insecurities and who’s not scared to admit his feelings. I respect that. And after what you told me of what you guys have gone through, I know Asahi will show his self-worth on the court and show everyone why he’s the ace. So who cares that he doesn’t have the traditional personality of an ace? I think he’s already brave.”

Kiyoko smiled at her. That was the answer she’s been hoping for and (Y/N) delivered it. Her (E/C) eyes matched the conviction in her voice and Kiyoko loved it. Not to mention, the timing was absolutely perfect and she thanked the gods that (Y/N) didn’t notice the two people behind her.

“(Y-Y/N)-san?”

Oh god. She could feel her heart falling to her stomach when she heard her name in that deep voice that made her feel everything all at once. Her face became warm in seconds and she didn’t dare move an inch. It wasn’t until Kiyoko let out a small cough that brought her from cloud nine back to the gym.

(Y/N) took a moment to center herself before turning around to see Asahi. His chocolate brown eyes met hers and she swore the butterflies from her stomach danced between her ribs.

“A-Asahi-san! Hey!”

She quickly stood up, a bit too fast as she accidentally knocked her team’s water bottles out of the carrier. Embarrassed, (Y/N) fell to her knees and grabbed the nearest bottle.

“S-Sorry about this.” (Y/N) didn’t dare look up as she already embarrassed herself in front of her crush and his friends.

“N-No! Don’t apologize. It was an accident.” Asahi kneeled, grabbing the last bottle before handing it to her. His breath hitched ever so softly when her fingertips touched his hand. It was as if the rest of the gym faded away. Being so close to (Y/N), he saw how her eyes were beautiful as he remembered. He swore it was no trick of the light that her eyes seemed to shine like stars in the night sky.

(Y/N) felt so self-conscious about how close she was to Asahi. She hoped she looked okay in his eyes. Usually she wouldn’t care so much on how she looked, but the idea was thrown out the window when she met Karasuno’s ace. His long hair was once again in a bun but this time it was neatly in place, a perfect bun any woman or man could be jealous of. The small scruff of facial hair on his chin suited him very well, giving him a sort of wild, intimidating appearance.

But she knew better because Asahi was an adorable giant with a large and gentle heart. If she was being honest, his presence was like springtime coming to wash away winter’s snow. His warmth was… Indescribable.

How was it possible for him to be that handsome yet so adorable at the same time?

The moment was interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Loudly. (Y/n) looked up to see the libero, Nishinoya, with a large grin. His eyes were bright with excitement and amusement. She can immediately tell that this guy was the mischievous and energetic type. As they stood up, she could have sworn she saw Asahi blush.

“(Y/N), this is my friend Nishinoya Yū. He’s a second-year and the libero of our team.”

While he maintained a normal composure, Asahi was mentally beating himself up. ‘Why would you say that?! She’s a volleyball manager!! Of course, she knows that Nishinoya is a libero! She has eyes. She can see that he’s wearing a different color jersey! Asahi, you’re such an IDIOT!’

While the ace was mentally berating himself, (Y/N) formally introduced herself to his friend. During her introduction, Nishinoya could only gawk. When he heard from Suga and Daichi about his friend Asahi finally having a lucky break encounter with a girl, he couldn’t be happier for the ace. And it didn’t take a genius to see how hard Asahi fell for her.

“By the way, I’ve watched those ‘I’m Awesome’ videos.” (Y/N) brought up and immediately caught the attention from both boys. “That match with Shiratorizawa when you made a double save against Ushijima was so cool. It was so amazing that I had to replay it like five times. I even showed it to our own libero and he literally took my phone out of my hands.”

Nishinoya beamed. “Really?”

His chest swelled up with pride and the thought of another libero studying his techniques was just the icing on the cake, but to have a pretty girl, like (Y/N), praise his skills… Well that’s the cherry on top. He liked her already.

“And Asahi, you were amazing too. The way you were able to smash through Shiratorizawa’s defenses was unreal!”

The warm and fuzzy feeling from his chest exploded and it was as if all the heat rushed to his face. Asahi was sure his whole face was red. He tried to stammer out a reply but Nishinoya beat him to it.

“I know right!” He slapped Asahi’s shoulder repeatedly. “He went head to head against one of the best aces in the country and helped lead our team to victory. We wouldn’t be here without him.”

“T-That’s not t-true-”

“Of course it is!” Nishinoya looked back at the girl who was chuckling at their interaction. “Ignore that. He’s so humble whenever someone compliments him.”

Her eyes met Asahi’s and gave him a knowing smile. Although this was her second encounter with Karasuno’s ace, (Y/N) noticed the trend of Asahi’s friends building him up and teasing him at the same time. She had to stop herself from laughing at the lack of subtlety amongst them. Still, it was cute to see Asahi this way.

“Well,” (Y/N) began, her hand casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Asahi was listening intently. “Then I bet this next compliment is going to be unbearable because I thought you looked great during that match. It makes me wish I was there to see you guys play live.”

Nishinoya grinned. “Don’t worry, (Y/N)-san. You won’t be disappointed with our match. Asahi, here, will make sure of that. Right, Asahi? Oh, did I mention how-”

Kiyoko, who was silently watching the entire interaction, noticed the slight panic in Asahi’s eyes. She knew the libero means well but there were times he can take things a bit too far.

“Nishinoya, can you help carry this for me?”

“Anything for you, Kiyoko-san! I’ll follow you forever!”

Asahi was about to stutter out his friend’s name when he saw Kiyoko give a little head gesture towards (Y/N), subtle enough so she wouldn’t see it.

‘This is your chance, Asahi.’ That was the message she was telling him as Kiyoko led Nishinoya away. ‘Don’t mess up.’

“So, um, (Y/N)? H-How are you? You know, with everything?” Asahi could feel the goosebumps traveling up and down his arms at how cringy he felt.

The dark cloud of self-doubt and worry that plagued Asahi this morning has evaporated into thin air the moment she smiled at him. How was she able to put him at ease like that?

“So far, so good. I'm a bit nervous for today. Not the bad kind of nervous but the excited kind, you know?”

Asahi nodded as he knew exactly the feeling (Y/N) was talking about. He was feeling it right now! “I know that feeling very well. I feel it almost everyday.”

(Y/N) chuckled before replying, “At least, you’re honest, Asahi. Most guys usually lie about their feelings.” She glanced back at her own team where she saw Atsumu arguing with his twin, probably over something stupid.

“Well someone did tell me that it wasn’t a bad thing to express my feelings. I’m just following her good advice.”

The smile she gave him was like no other to know that Asahi was really taking her words to heart. Words can’t describe how happy this made her nor the warm feeling she felt stir in her chest.

“So, are you ready to play against us?” (Y/N) asked the ace in an effort to keep the conversation going. “Because we’ve been looking forward to this match.”

“It’s a bit nerve-racking that we’re playing against the team that placed second in the Inter-High. You have great players on your team.”

(Y/N) waved her hand in dismal with a shake of her head. “Oh don’t let that rattle you, that was yesterday.” Her school’s motto rings true in her words. “Besides, I’ve done my research. Karasuno isn’t like it was before. Your team has cool players too and that includes you. All you can do today is challenge yourself.”

Asahi couldn’t help but smile at her. “You’re just full of good advice, aren’t you?”

She beamed while tossing her hair over her shoulder in a joking manner. “I’d like to think so. But seriously, Asahi,” Her hand gently touched his bicep and Asahi didn’t shrink away. “How are you really feeling?”

“H-Honestly?”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes looking up to him, patiently waiting for his response.

“I haven’t told anyone so d-don’t make fun of me but… I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m scared of failing. I’m scared to drag the team down. I’m scared to lose the trust my team has in me as the ace. I mean, I’ve watched the Inarizaki clip last night and I can’t help to compare-”

Asahi stopped talking when he felt a pair of warm hands wrap around his cold ones. The blush from before came back in full force. (Y/N)’s hands were small and so soft compared to his yet it was enough to calm his fast beating heart. With her holding his hands, it reminded Asahi of the time when Kiyoko held Suga’s hands during the fifth set of the Shiratorizawa match. He remembered how he, Daichi, Nishinoya, and Tanaka became jealous towards the vice captain. Now he was in Suga’s position and with (Y/N) holding his hands, Asahi understood the feelings Suga went through that day.

“Listen to me, Asahi, what you’re feeling right now… That’s normal, okay? You’re not the first ace to feel this way and even if you are the first that just goes to show how considerate you are to your teammates. I can tell you worked hard and you have skilled, trustworthy teammates. That’s why you’re here in Nationals, remember? You earned your spot on the team as the ace and I understand you carry a burden on your shoulders, but you’re not alone. You have your team with you.”

Asahi opened his mouth but no words came out. It was as if (Y/N) took his ability to talk. He felt enlightened in a way. He was pushed so much in the darkness by his own self-doubt, anxiety, and worry that he almost missed the ray of light that gave him hope.

“You with me, Asahi? I didn’t lose you, did I?” (Y/N) questioned, giving his hands a small squeeze. “Or did I say something wrong?”

“Oh! Sorry! No! I mean- Yes! I mean-”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Breathe, Asahi. There’s no need to be nervous. It’s just me. No one special.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. At least, not to me.”

She blinked. Then blinked twice. Three times. When she realized that she hadn’t misheard him, she swore those butterflies in her stomach made their way to her chest and danced around her heart. The feeling never went away when he met her eyes. His brown eyes took her breath away while melting her heart at the same time.

Still, she wasn’t expecting Asahi to say that and judging by the obvious blush on his cheeks Asahi wasn’t either. Well, two can play at that game.

“Oh? I’m someone special to you? When we only met yesterday? If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re falling for me.”

Asahi felt his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was used to teasing by his friends and the second-years but never before has he felt like this. Wait a minute… Was this teasing or flirting? He hoped for the latter because he didn’t want it to stop.

“What if I am?” He asked, his confidence growing with every word. “Would it be a bad thing?”

(Y/N) smiled widely. “I… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Asahi felt his heart soar to new heights at this. Any anxiety he had began to slowly fade away. His hands were no longer cold but he wasn’t going to stray away from (Y/N)’s touch.

However, the universe thought differently.

“Hey. Do you mind not holding hands with my manager?”

(Y/N) grunted when she felt a strong arm swing over her shoulders. Even without looking, she could tell who it was. The same person who had no problem starting a confrontation with anyone. Not even his twin brother.

“Atsumu.” She warned, letting go of Asahi’s hands, hoping this action would relieve the tension her setter placed around them.

The blond-haired twin kept the same annoying smirk as he met his manager’s eyes. He knew that look very well as he was always on the receiving end of it.

“What?” He asked innocently. “I’m just looking out for you, (Y/N)-senpai. You’re our precious manager after all. Now, is this guy messing with you?”

(Y/N) sighed, closing her eyes while counting to ten in order to calm down. She could only imagine how this must look.

“He’s not. This is Asahi and he’s my friend. We were just talking before the match began. Asahi, this is Miya Atsumu. He’s the setter-”

“Star setter.” Atsumu interrupted as he shook Asahi’s hand, gripping it hard. “An All-Japan Training Camp setter.”

Confused but feeling bold, Asahi matched the twin’s grip strength. He took a tiny bit of satisfaction when Atsumu grimaced the tiniest bit.

(Y/N) raised her brow at them but shook it off. “Sorry about him. He can be a bit much. Anyways, Atsumu, Asahi is Karasuno’s ace. We watched their match yesterday, remember?”

Atsumu gave him an unimpressed look before shaking his head. “Not really. He must have not made a good impression for me to remember. I don’t remember players who suck-”

He was cut off by (Y/N)’s sharp elbow to his stomach. “What was that for, (Y/N)-san?!”

“That’s for lying!”

“I wasn’t lying!”

“Just yesterday you told me he made a lot of great plays. Not to mention, you praised his service ace.”

Atsumu could feel himself blush a little when his manager caught him in his lie. “I… I don’t remember.” When lying doesn’t work, denying is the second best option.

She rolled her eyes while pushing the setter’s head down, forcing him to bow with her. “Sorry about him. He can be incredibly insensitive at times.”

Atsumu twisted his head to look at his manager, quietly struggling underneath her surprisingly strong grip. “No, I’m not!”

(Y/N) sighed before letting go and ignored the glare Atsumu gave her. Instead, she focused on Karasuno’s ace. “I wish we can talk more, Asahi but I need to get the team ready before the match. But I’m glad we had the chance to catch up.”

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled at her, much to Atsumu’s displeasure. “Can we talk later?”

The manager grinned and was just about to answer when she felt a strong tug on her arm before getting dragged away. “Hey, Atsumu! What the he-”

“You said it yourself.” Atsumu pointed out. “You need to help get the team, our team, ready. Let’s go.”

(Y/N) yanked her hand back and gave Atsumu a glare before he could utter a complaint. “Atsumu, be a dear and take this,” She placed the water bottle carrier in his hands. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“But- I, er, we need you. Remember, there’s that thing… That important thing…” His eyes gestured to his hands.

To anyone who didn’t know the Inarizaki setter very well, it may have sounded like there was something urgent she, as the manager, had to do. But (Y/N) knew Atsumu and she almost wanted to laugh at the desperation in his voice. This happened every single time before a match. It was obvious that Atsumu didn’t want to admit his problem in front of Asahi, who had a confused look on his face.

“The stuff is in my bag, inside the small pocket. Just don’t use too much like last time.”

“Yes!” Atsumu fist-pumped before running back to the rest of the Inarizaki team, forgetting the reason he came over in the first place.

(Y/N) chuckled as she watched her friend dig into her bag before turning back to Asahi. “Again, sorry about that. He can be a bit much. But he does have a point, the match is going to start soon.” She offered up her hand for a shake. “Best of luck to you, Asahi.”

He wasted no time in shaking her hand. “You too. Good luck to your team.”

“And whatever happens, win or lose, we’ll be cool, right?” (Y/N) asked, hoping Asahi wasn’t one of those players that completely shuts down and shuns people when they lose. She really liked him so she hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Of course we will.” Asahi promised. “No matter what happens, we’ll give it our best.”

“Good. See you later, ace.”

With one final encouraging squeeze, (Y/N)’s hand slipped away before making her way towards her team. Asahi seemed frozen to the laminate gym floor as his eyes were fixed on her maroon Inarizaki team. His hand was still in the air where he could still feel her fingertips.

“ASAHI!”

He flinched when he heard Nishinoya yell out his name and he almost fell over when he felt the libero hoist himself to do a handstand on his shoulders. It always amazes him how Nishinoya was able to do that effortlessly.

“H-Hey careful!” Asahi warned him. “And what happened to having my back?”

“You were amazing Asahi-san!” Nishinoya praised, stars in his eyes. “And I did have your back. We all had your back. We were watching the whole thing! You looked so cool talking to the girl you like!”

Was it just him or did that last sentence sound so loud?

“Don’t make it so obvious, Nishinoya.” Suga chuckled.

“Yeah, we don’t need Miya Atsumu to come back over here and scare Asahi again.” Daichi joked. “We had to pull Nishinoya back so he wouldn’t go feral on him.”

“I-I wasn’t scared! He just surprised me.” Asahi defended though he wasn’t going to admit that there was a tiny moment of fear when the Inarizaki setter confronted him. “He’s intense though.”

Kiyoko stepped forward. “You didn’t run away. I think that speaks louder than words.”

Asahi swallowed hard. “You think so?”

“Trust Kiyoko on this, Asahi.” Daichi said. “And trust all of us when we say, don’t give up. I know I give you a hard time with you being a coward and all-”

“Thanks.” He said sarcastically.

“Let me finish.” Daichi laughed. “I was trying to say… (Y/N) brings out the best in you. So keep going. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Alright, let’s go win!”

“YEAH!!”

~Meanwhile on the other side of the gym~

“You done flirting with the enemy?”

“Does that bother you, Suna?” (Y/N) countered as she checked her bag, looking to see if Atsumu used all her hand lotion. (He’s always complaining about his fingertips being dry.) “I thought that’s what you guys wanted? For me to find someone?”

“At least give us a warning. Atsumu said it was that scary samurai-looking guy.”

“Atsumu’s dramatic.”

“Am not!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“He literally was squeezing my hand off! Trying to ruin my perfect setter hands!” The blond complained. “I call sabotage!”

“Maybe you’re just that weak, ‘Tsumu.”

“Shut up, ‘Samu!”

“So,” Suna interrupted before the twins could start another infinite argument. “You like this Azumane guy?”

“Is he Lucky Schmuck #1?” Osamu followed up.

“Or Unlucky Schmuck #6?” Atsumu mumbled with his arms crossed.

“I think… He’s the one.”

~

Next: Chapter 3