#how dare he can be hotter than usual

[rakiah]

GOD ponytail leona is SO HOTTT

vil PLEASE just LET ME HAVE a TURN 😩 I BEG

That’s quite funny how you ask Vil for what you want to do to Leona like he’s the owner of the cat or like he’s riding a Leona carousel and you want your ride on the merry-go-around.

I like it very much <3

The kitty not so.

[pascalissmoked]

Sweeter Than Summer

Summary: It starts with helping Sarah. It ends with her dad looking at you like he can’t breathe without you. Soft smiles, stolen glances���until it’s not so soft anymore. Word Count: 8K Warnings: fluff, age gap (reader is 22 and joel is in his mid 30s), joel being the hot neighbor and a frienc od your dad's, tommy being a little shit to his older brother, team plotting from sarah and her uncle, blood (not gory though), joel not knowing how to take care of Sarah becoming a woman, food consumption, nervous!joel, texas!joel, no outbreak!joel, unprotected sex, A/N: I kinda let myself go with this one. But you can never have too much of dilf!joel anyway. I hope you enjoy xx

Sweat clung to your skin like a second layer, tracing hot trails from your neck to the hollow of your collarbone. Texas, in the dead of summer, had become less of a state and more of a furnace—an open-mouthed oven blasting dry, merciless heat at everything that dared to live in it. No breeze, no shade, not even the patchy ceiling fans in your father’s house could fight it off.

So you escaped to the only place with the illusion of relief: your old man’s rust-bitten Ford truck. The air conditioning groaned like an old man with bad knees, struggling to push out even a whisper of cold. Mostly, it just wheezed in competition with the faint melody of Avril Lavigne’s Complicated playing from a scratched-up CD.

That CD had been a gift from Sarah—the wild-hearted twelve-year-old next door with a halo of curls and a grin full of mischief. She’d handed it to you like it was treasure, wrapped in a scrap of pink paper with your name spelled in glitter pen. Babysitting her had started off as a favor, a quick yes when your father mentioned that Joel Miller—Sarah’s dad—needed someone to help out now and then. You’d barely met Joel, only knew that he worked with his hands, often gone at odd hours, and that he carried the kind of quiet sadness you didn’t ask questions about.

You were a high school senior back then, just counting days until freedom. But somehow, that little girl made you want to stay.

Your evenings slowly stitched themselves into a patchwork of Disney marathons, popcorn burned in the microwave, Sarah’s giggles echoing through the halls of the Miller house. She’d curl up beside you, head resting on your shoulder like a sleepy kitten, cookies half-eaten and forgotten on the table. She became something sacred—a bond, a heartbeat, the closest thing to a sister you’d ever have.

Even after you left for college, you kept coming back. Not out of duty, but because her tiny arms still wrapped around your waist when you walked through the door. Because her eyes still lit up like fireworks when you pressed play on The Little Mermaid. Because somehow, she had become your person.

You leaned back in the cracked leather seat, your legs sticking to it, the AC making a sad attempt at survival. You shut your eyes and let Avril’s voice carry you, half-lost in memory and heat-induced haze, until a sharp knock on the passenger window startled you.

Sarah.

She was grinning, as usual—her curls pulled into a wild ponytail, a Popsicle in one hand, and a look that said she was up to something.

You rolled the window down. “What’s up, bug?”

She climbed in before you could stop her, dragging a wave of hot air in with her. “Dad said we could go get ice cream if you’re up for driving.”

“Did he now?”

“Okay, I might’ve said you were bored and needed to get out. Same thing.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. She shoved the melting Popsicle into your hand and snapped on her seatbelt with dramatic flair. “Let’s go. Before it gets hotter. I think I saw a squirrel burst into flames on the sidewalk.”

You laughed and turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed to life, the truck rumbling beneath you like an old beast waking from a nap. You caught sight of Joel on the porch as you pulled away—arms crossed, watching with that unreadable expression he always wore. You gave him a two-fingered wave. He nodded once, and that was enough.

Sarah chattered all the way to the ice cream place, asking about college, about whether you had a boyfriend yet (she asked this every time), and whether she’d be tall enough to ride the big coasters at the state fair this year. You let her talk, let her words fill the space like music.

When you finally parked in front of the ice cream shop, the sun had started dipping low, turning the sky into a hazy peach-orange watercolor.

Inside, the cool air hit like salvation. Sarah ran to the counter, already debating between cotton candy and cookie dough. You trailed behind more slowly, letting the change in temperature settle over your skin like a blessing.

As you waited, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A message from your dad:

“Joel asked if you’ll be home later. Said he could use help with something at the house.”

You stared at the screen for a second longer than you needed to. Joel didn’t ask for help. Not unless he meant it.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah looked up from her ice cream conquest.

You smiled. “Nothing. Just your dad being mysterious.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s always mysterious. He builds things all day and listens to music no one understands.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you teased.

“I’m not mysterious,” she said, scooping her choice—cookie dough, of course—into a bowl. “I’m an open book.”

You paid for the treats and led her outside to a metal bench half in the shade. The breeze had picked up slightly. It carried the scent of pavement, crepe myrtles, and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. Something shifting.

The sun was beginning to slip behind the rooftops by the time you and Sarah returned to the Miller house, both of you sticky from melted ice cream and heat. The air had that golden hue of a Texas evening—dust motes glowing in the sunlight, cicadas beginning their slow song. The drive back from the ice cream shop had been quiet, but not in a bad way. Sarah had rolled the window down and was humming absently to herself between licks of her cone. You stole glances at her in the rearview mirror. She looked tired but content, her face a little flushed, her curls sticking to her temples.

You knew something had shifted. She’d been quieter than usual on the ride back, a little distracted. Not sad, just somewhere far off in her head. You didn’t push it. You’d learned a long time ago that Sarah always circled back in her own time.

When you pulled into the driveway, Joel was out front, leaning against the porch rail with his arms folded, like he’d been waiting. He looked up as the truck came to a stop, one brow lifting slightly in a kind of wordless check-in. You gave him a nod, just enough to say she’s okay.

Sarah climbed out of the truck slowly and stretched. “I’m gonna shower,” she mumbled, already heading toward the front door.

“You eat dinner?” Joel called after her.

“Ice cream counts!” she shouted back, disappearing into the house.

Joel huffed something like a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes still on the screen door even after it swung shut behind her.

You shut the truck door and walked over to him. “Everything alright?”

He looked at you then, really looked. Not with panic, exactly, but something close. Hesitation. Worry. Maybe a little guilt.

“You got a minute?” he asked. “Need to run something by you.”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Joel gestured toward the backyard with a jerk of his chin. The porch boards creaked beneath his boots as you followed him through the kitchen and out the back door, into the thick, humid air. The sun was low now, bleeding orange across the fence line. Crickets had started up in the grass, and you could hear a neighbor’s sprinkler ticking faintly in the distance.

Joel didn’t speak for a while. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring out across the yard like it might offer him a script to read from. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and a little rough around the edges.

“Found somethin’ earlier,” he said. “In the bathroom. A, uh… towel. One of hers. Had blood on it…”

“Oh,” you said, gently. “Her period.”

He nodded, cheeks reddening, clearly trying to keep his voice level. “Yeah. That. She didn’t say a damn word to me. Just shoved a towel in the laundry like nothin’ happened and then asked if she could go out for ice cream. And I remembered… her mom used to—well, she always wanted something sweet on her bad days, so…”

You felt your chest warm. Not from the heat. From him. From this big, quiet man who looked like he could wrestle a bear but stood there now like a deer in headlights, wringing his hands over his little girl.

“She’s twelve,” he added, like that somehow made it more tragic. “I don’t… I didn’t grow up with sisters. Only Tommy. We were a disaster even on good days. I don’t know what to say, or how to—hell, I don’t even know what kind of… supplies she’s supposed to use.”

He fell quiet again, then sighed, long and slow. “I didn’t know who to call. I almost called Tommy, but you know, he’s as useless as I am when it comes to this kinda thing. So… I figured, maybe you’d know.”

There was something in the way he said it—maybe you’d know—that felt less like a request and more like a quiet surrender. Like this was his way of admitting he was scared, and he didn’t know how to say it out loud.

You stepped closer, your voice soft. “You did the right thing, Joel. Giving her space, getting her out of the house. That was smart.”

“She didn’t even tell me,” he muttered. “That’s what kills me. She used to come to me for everything. Now she’s just—dealing with it by herself. Like she had to.”

“She’s twelve,” you said gently. “She’s embarrassed. Doesn’t know how to talk about it. Maybe she’s scared you’ll think she’s different now.”

Joel blinked at that. “Why the hell would I think that?”

“Because that’s what girls worry about when they start this. That people will treat them differently. That their body’s changing and it makes things weird.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were on the fence again. “Her mom used to say stuff like that. About how she hated how people treated her like she was fragile just ’cause she was bleeding.”

There was a rawness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. Not just nervousness—grief, too. That quiet, familiar ache of someone trying to parent without the other half of the puzzle.

“I’ll take her to the store tomorrow,” you said. “We’ll get her what she needs—pads, whatever she’s comfortable with. Maybe some tea. And chocolate. That always helps.”

Joel nodded slowly, like each word you said was another burden taken off his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You hesitated, then placed your hand lightly on his arm. “She’s not trying to shut you out. She’s just figuring it out in the only way she knows how.”

He looked at you then, really looked—tired, grateful, full of a quiet kind of worry that had nowhere to go.

“I feel like I’m messin’ it all up,” he admitted, so low you barely heard it.

“You’re not.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

A long silence settled between you. The kind that wasn’t awkward, just full. Full of the things left unsaid, of the weight of love and responsibility and the kind of fear that comes with being someone’s whole world.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face and huffed a short laugh. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“I think you’re doing your best,” you said. “And that’s more than a lot of kids get.”

He let out a breath, slow and steady. Then, after a pause: “You’re good with her.”

“I love her,” you said. “She’s like a little sister to me.”

Joel looked at you again—something unreadable in his expression. Maybe surprise. Maybe something else.

“I’m real glad you’re still around,” he said quietly.

You smiled. “Me too.”

From inside the house, Sarah called out, “Are we watching a movie or what?”

Joel didn’t take his eyes off you, but there was something softer in them now. Something unguarded.

“I guess we’d better get in there,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, letting your hand fall from his arm. “Before she starts without us.”

It was the first time you'd stayed this late at the Miller house. Usually, your evenings with Sarah ended around sunset—movie paused, cookies half-eaten, Joel pulling into the driveway with dust on his jeans and tired thanks in his eyes. But this time, things were different.

Sarah had asked you to stay. She’d clung to your arm, eyes wide and wheedling, and Joel, surprisingly, had said yes.

“I mean… if it’s no trouble,” he’d added, rubbing the back of his neck, trying not to meet your eyes.

You’d said it wasn’t. And you meant it.

Now, the three of you were gathered in the living room. The lights were dimmed, the TV humming with the opening credits of Holes. Sarah had insisted on it—“It’s a classic, don’t even argue”—and had spread every pillow and blanket she could find across the floor like a DIY fort.

She was nestled into the middle of it, legs tucked under her, one of Joel’s flannels hanging off her shoulders. You sat on the edge of the couch, nursing a soda, while Joel took the armchair, one ankle propped lazily over his knee.

The movie started, and for a while, it was all popcorn rustles and Sarah quoting her favorite lines before they even happened. Joel chuckled at her enthusiasm, and you found yourself watching them more than the movie—how Joel’s eyes softened every time Sarah laughed, how she leaned toward you like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Somewhere around the third lizard sighting, Sarah moved to sit on the couch between you and the armrest, leaning against your side like a sleepy cat. You didn’t even notice when her breathing evened out and her head rested on your arm.

Joel noticed though.

His voice came low, amused. “She out?”

You glanced down. “Dead to the world.”

“She’s like her mom that way. Could sleep through a tornado.”

It was the second time he’d mentioned her. His voice was gentle, a little distant, but not painful. Just remembering.

You both sat quietly for a while after that. The soft flicker of the movie lit his face in blues and golds. He looked… peaceful. More relaxed than you’d seen him at those neighborhood barbecues, where he always kept a beer in his hand and one eye on Sarah like he didn’t trust the world not to fall apart.

Now, she was here, asleep beside you. And you were here, beside her.

When the credits finally rolled, Joel stood up slowly, stretching with a soft groan.

“I’ll carry her,” he said, and you nodded.

He moved carefully, gently scooping her up in his arms. She stirred just enough to murmur your name and Joel’s, then went limp again against his chest.

You watched them disappear down the hallway, the quiet creak of her bedroom door closing like the final note in a lullaby.

When he returned, he found you curled up on the couch, clearly half-asleep yourself.

Joel stood there for a moment, just watching you.

He thought about waking you. He really did.

But then he sighed, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and muttered, “Alright then.”

A few minutes later, he was spreading a clean blanket over you in his room and stacking an extra pillow beside your head. He lingered there, eyes soft, before turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

The smell of coffee nudged you awake before sunlight did. For a few seconds, you lay still, half-dreaming, until the stiff cotton sheets and unfamiliar quiet reminded you—this wasn’t your bed. It was Joel's.

You blinked at the wooden beams above you, the smell of frying bacon drifting in through a barely-cracked door. Joel's room was neat but lived-in. The flannel shirt hanging off the bedpost, the guitar case by the closet, the worn boots by the door—it all felt very him.

You sat up slowly, pushing hair out of your face, squinting toward the hallway. It felt intimate in here. Like you were somewhere you weren't quite supposed to be. And yet, the warmth in your chest told a different story.

The floorboards creaked softly as you padded toward the kitchen, feet bare and cautious. Joel stood at the stove, t-shirt wrinkled, hair a little messier than usual. He was flipping bacon, one hand holding a spatula, the other nursing a coffee cup.

He turned when he heard you, and for just a second, there was something caught in his expression. Not surprise. Something softer.

"Mornin'," he said, voice low and a little scratchy.

"You gave me your bed?"

Joel shrugged, turning back to the stove. "You were out cold. Didn’t wanna wake you. Couch ain’t so bad."

You glanced over at the couch, then back at him. "That couch is shaped like a capital 'L'. No way your back's okay."

He smirked, sliding bacon onto a paper towel. "I'm tougher than I look."

You raised an eyebrow, settling onto a stool by the counter. "You mean grumpier."

Before Joel could reply, Sarah wandered in like a hurricane with the battery drained. She wore a hoodie zipped halfway and socks slipping down her heels. Her face was twisted in dramatic agony.

"It feels like a war zone in my gut," she moaned.

Joel tensed. "You need Tylenol? Heating pad?"

"I need ice cream," Sarah said. Then her eyes landed on you. "You're still here?"

You smiled. "Yep. Joel gave me his bed."

Sarah blinked. Then grinned like she’d just won a prize at the fair. "Ooooh."

Joel, behind her, quietly muttered, "Sarah."

She leaned in close to you like you were co-conspirators. "Did you sleep in, like, his bed? Like with the plaid sheets and the pillow that smells like sawdust and... man soap?"

You tried not to laugh. "That very one."

Sarah's eyes glittered. "I knew it! Dad always acts weird around you."

Joel nearly choked on his coffee. "Alright, that's enough. Go sit down."

Sarah plopped onto the couch, cradling a heating pad Joel must have already warmed up for her. Despite her cramps, she looked content. Radiant, even. You noticed her eyes drifting shut, the tiniest smile playing at her lips.

"We should probably go grab her a few things," you murmured to Joel.

He gave a quiet nod. "She said she used the last pad yesterday. I just... didn’t wanna get the wrong thing. Didn’t know there were fifty types."

You touched his arm lightly. "We’ll take care of it."

Just then, the back door creaked open with that familiar screech that only old hinges and a Miller brother could make.

"Hope I’m not too late for bacon," Tommy called, strolling in like he owned the place. He wore his Sunday-best version of casual: jeans, a button-up rolled to the elbows, and a grin that could get him out of any ticket.

Sarah brightened at the sound. "Uncle Tommy!"

"Hey, sweetheart," he beamed, ruffling her curls gently. "Heard you had a bit of a rough morning."

She held up a thumbs-up from under her blanket. "I’m surviving. Thanks to the ice cream and the guest star who stayed overnight."

Tommy's eyebrows shot up, and he turned to look at you, then Joel. "Guest star, huh?"

Joel stiffened where he stood. "She crashed after the movie. I gave her the bed."

Tommy leaned on the counter, eyes twinkling. "Your bed?"

Sarah giggled. "With the plaid sheets and the soap smell and everything!"

Joel let out a breath like he was trying not to combust. "Can y’all stop announcin' that to the whole neighborhood?"

Tommy laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "I’m just sayin’—breakfast smells like affection, and you’ve got your flannel lookin’ a little less grumpy today."

"She’s good with Sarah," Joel said gruffly, pouring another cup of coffee. "That’s all."

"Sure," Tommy said, nodding slowly. "And the way you’re hovering near her like a guard dog in flannel, that’s also ‘just good with Sarah’?" he whispered.

Joel shot him a warning glance, but Tommy only grinned wider.

"Uncle Tommy," Sarah said sweetly, suddenly conspiratorial, "do you think Dad has a crush?"

Joel nearly dropped his mug. You buried your face in your hands, laughing helplessly.

Tommy gasped theatrically. "Sarah! I think you might be right. Look at that blush—he’s turning redder than my truck!"

Joel groaned. "Jesus Christ, I should’ve stayed in bed."

"Too bad someone else was in it," Tommy teased.

Joel turned to you, his voice dry. "You wanna take her to the store now? Might be safer."

You, still laughing, nodded. "Before Sarah starts handing out wedding invitations."

Sarah waved a hand from the couch. "Too late, I already made a vision board."

Tommy threw his head back, howling. Joel just stared at the ceiling like it might open up and swallow him whole.

You grabbed your bag, still chuckling, and gestured to Sarah. "C’mon, let’s get you the fancy kind of pain relief. Maybe even a heating pad shaped like a llama."

Sarah sprang up with unexpected energy. "This is why you’re my favorite."

Joel muttered, "You weren’t sayin’ that when I was up at 2 a.m. gettin’ you ice water."

She kissed his cheek and skipped toward the door.

As the two of you left, you heard Tommy say behind you, "You know, I really am happy for you, big brother. But I’m gonna keep messin’ with you just the same."

Joel replied with a grunt, but his voice, softer now, said more than his words ever could.

He was grateful.

And he was in trouble.

The store's fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as you and Sarah wandered down the aisle lined with shelves full of period products. The “feminine care” section was a riot of pastel colors, cryptic labels, and brands that somehow managed to sound both comforting and clinical.

Sarah stared up at them, arms crossed, mouth slightly open. "Okay, so... what's the difference between ultra-thin and ultra-thin with wings? Is it, like, flying powers?"

You snorted. "No flying powers, sadly. The wings just help keep things in place."

"Disappointing," she said with a sigh. "I was hoping for at least a little magic."

You crouched to scan the lower shelves. "Do you want the same kind you had last time, or do you wanna try something different?"

Sarah shrugged. "Whatever you think’s best. I trust your judgment. You’re clearly a seasoned professional."

You tossed a box into the basket. "The seasoned-est."

Sarah peeked up at you, slyly. "So... speaking of judgment."

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh?"

"Do you like older guys?"

You blinked. "That’s... a jump."

She grinned, clearly proud of herself. "No it’s not. It’s an investigative segue."

You tried to stifle a laugh. "Sarah."

"What? I’m curious! You’re, like, a woman. With... grown-up tastes."

"You’re twelve."

"Exactly! I need mentorship."

You paused, holding a box of heating patches. "Is this about your dad again?"

"I mean, not entirely. But also: yes."

You gave her a look.

"I just think you two would be cute. You both make weirdly good pancakes. And when you were sleeping in his bed, I swear he was, like, standing in the hallway checking if you were still breathing. Like some kind of lumberjack angel."

You put the patches in the basket. "Lumberjack angel?"

"Don’t mock the poetry."

You walked toward the checkout, and she practically skipped after you despite the heating pad she clutched like a teddy bear.

"Okay but seriously—" she continued, lowering her voice dramatically, "—do you think he’s cute? Like, if he didn’t have the whole ‘dad’ thing going on?"

You sighed, amused. "Sarah, I’m not talking about your dad like that."

She smirked. "That means yes."

You gave her a mock glare as the cashier started scanning your items. Sarah, never missing a beat, leaned on the counter like she was discussing secret spy business.

"Also, Uncle Tommy said you could do better. I told him to hush. I think my dad is the best you’re gonna get."

"Wow. Brutal."

"I'm in pain. Let me live."

As you bagged everything up and started walking toward the exit, Sarah looped her arm through yours and leaned against you.

"Thanks for coming with me. It’s way less awkward with you. Dad would’ve had an existential crisis in the tampon aisle."

"I believe it."

"And also... thanks for not making this whole thing a big weird deal. I was really freaked out yesterday. Thought I was dying. You were cool about it."

You softened. "That’s what I’m here for."

She looked up at you, a little more serious now. "And I really hope you end up my stepmom. But, like, the hot kind."

You blinked. "SARAH."

She cackled. "What? Just planting seeds."

Outside, the sun was warm on your face. You shook your head, laughing as you loaded the bags into Joel’s truck.

And somewhere inside that little gremlin of a girl was the biggest heart you’d ever met. Even on her worst day, she was matchmaking and joking and holding your hand.

God help Joel.

He didn’t stand a chance.

The sun was angling low by the time you pulled back into the driveway, the kind of orange Texas glow that made everything look a little too golden and a little too unreal. Sarah was humming to herself in the passenger seat, clutching the drugstore bag like it held state secrets.

You climbed out of the truck, stretching, only to freeze halfway through.

Joel was out front, shirt sticking to his back in the heat, kneeling beside a crooked section of the fence. A small toolbox sat next to him, half-open, nails scattered in neat little rows. His shirt—dark blue and worn—was clinging to his frame in all the right places. Sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Forearms dusted in sawdust.

He looked up as you shut the car door, and for a moment, all you could do was blink.

“Hey,” he called, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Y’all make it okay?”

Sarah jumped out of the truck and held up the bag. “We conquered the period aisle!” she declared, marching proudly inside.

Joel chuckled. “That so?” Then his eyes flicked to you, and something in them softened. “Thanks. For takin’ her.”

You nodded, but your voice caught somewhere in your throat. “Of course.”

He bent back down, hammer in hand, and you stood there a beat too long watching the muscles in his arm flex with each nail he drove in.

It’s just because of what Sarah said, you told yourself. That’s all. She put it in your head.

But that wasn’t entirely true. The man looked like a Calvin Klein ad shot in a lumber yard.

You forced yourself to turn toward the house before your brain made it worse.

Inside, Sarah was already curled up on the couch, heating pad in place, water bottle in hand, victorious and slightly smug.

Joel followed you in not long after, wiping his hands on a rag. He glanced at the clock, then at you.

“You hungry?” he asked. “I was gonna grill a few things for dinner. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Stay!” Sarah added immediately, perking up. “You helped today and you’re, like, family. Dad even makes real food when you’re here. It’s a rare event.”

Joel gave her a look but didn’t argue. His eyes landed on you again. “You’re welcome to. Honestly.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Joel grilled something—probably out of guilt for the frozen waffles breakfast. It smelled amazing. Burgers, seasoned fries, sliced watermelon, the works. You sat across from Sarah while Joel set everything out. Just as he was bringing over a dish of pickles, the back door swung open.

“Smells like a cookout for three, but I count four plates,” Tommy drawled, letting himself in like he always did. His jeans were too tight, shirt a little too fitted, like he was contractually obligated to flirt with the universe.

Joel gave him a side glance. “Don’t you have a house?”

“Sure do. But yours has food. And company.”

Tommy’s eyes slid to you, and his grin grew. “Well hey there.”

You smiled. “Hi, Tommy.”

Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically. “Don’t even, Uncle Tommy. She’s my best friend.”

Joel muttered, “God help me,” under his breath and passed you the ketchup.

Halfway through dinner, Tommy was in rare form. He elbowed Joel mid-bite. “So. When’s the last time you cooked like this for anyone?”

Joel didn’t look up. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’. I visit and get leftover chili. She visits and it’s gourmet.”

You were trying to hide your grin behind your water glass.

Tommy pointed his fork at you. “He always gets like this when you’re around. All tense and upright like he’s bein’ evaluated by the food network. You got the man sweating over burger seasoning.”

Joel groaned. “I swear to God, Tommy.”

Sarah giggled. “He did check the grill temp like, five times.”

You caught Joel’s eye. He looked exasperated, but his ears were red. Very red.

Tommy wasn’t done. “You know, Sarah’s got a good eye. She’s not wrong. This whole thing”—he gestured vaguely between you and Joel—“feels domestic.”

“Tommy,” Joel warned.

Sarah added, “We’re basically a sitcom now. One where the hot dad doesn’t know he’s in love.”

Joel dropped his head into his hands.

Tommy raised his glass. “To sitcoms. And slow burns.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or run.

Joel caught your eye again. And this time, he didn’t look away.

It wasn’t a big party. That had never been your dad’s style. But the backyard looked sweet under the string lights he’d looped between trees, casting a soft gold hue over the old lawn chairs and the fold-out table covered in mismatched paper plates and bowls of chips. A CD player in the corner hummed the tunes of old country and early 2000s radio hits, the kind your dad thought “young people liked.”

You’d just turned 22. Most of your college friends were scattered across the state—too far to make it for a casual Sunday night cookout. So it was just a few neighbors, your dad manning the grill, and a soft breeze that hinted at the edge of summer’s peak.

Joel showed up just as your dad was tending to the barbeque, Sarah at his side, her curls bouncing in a way that made her look like she was floating toward you. She held out a card like it was a trophy.

“Happy birthday!” she beamed. “I made you a masterpiece.”

You laughed and took it carefully. The card was covered in glitter and tiny doodles: a birthday cake, a sparkly dinosaur wearing sunglasses, and a poorly drawn but heartfelt portrait of you, her, and Joel standing under a rainbow.

“I love it,” you said, genuinely. “I’m framing it.”

“Good,” she grinned. “It took me forty-five minutes and three glitter glue explosions.”

Behind her, Joel gave you a small smile. He was in a dark gray button-down rolled to the elbows and jeans that didn’t look new, but still somehow looked good. Really good. You’d never seen him dressed like this—like he tried, just a little. He was holding a six-pack of Shiner Bock and a small rectangular gift wrapped in brown paper and string.

"Happy birthday," he said, voice quieter. “Didn’t know what to get, so…”

He handed you the gift and scratched at the back of his neck.

You gave him a curious smile as you took it. “Should I open it now?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

You peeled back the paper. Inside was a well-worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. The corners were softened from age, and the inside cover had a note in Joel’s neat, deliberate handwriting:

“You mentioned this was your favorite once. Figured you should have a version that’s seen a few years too. —J”

For a moment, the backyard went quiet around you—music, chatter, all of it faded. You looked up and met his eyes. Warm. Kind. Embarrassed, maybe. But also something else. Like he saw you in a way that you hadn’t let yourself imagine too much.

“Thank you,” you said, and meant it more than he probably realized.

Sarah was watching the two of you with her arms crossed, smirking. “You two are so obvious.”

Joel cleared his throat and turned toward the food table. “Burgers should be ready soon.”

You followed, your cheeks flushed.

Later, after burgers and sides and Sarah’s overenthusiastic attempts to pin the tail on the inflatable donkey, which your dad found hilarious, the grill was cooling and the sky was a bruised violet. You were inside the kitchen, trying to find a knife that wasn’t dull to slice the birthday cake. Your dad had disappeared, muttering something about “checking the propane line,” which you were 99% sure was code for “giving you space.”

Joel came in behind you with a tray of empty cups. “Need a hand?”

You turned, knife in one hand, cake staring back at you. “Yeah. Unless you wanna watch me murder this thing.”

He smirked, stepping beside you. Close. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached for a stack of plates.

“What kind of cake is this, anyway?” he asked, leaning just enough to read the label on the box.

“Chocolate with strawberry filling. Sarah picked it out. Said it was ‘romantic birthday vibes.’”

Joel laughed softly. “That girl’s gonna run a matchmaking business one day.”

“She already is. We’re just her test subjects.”

You looked up to find him looking down, his eyes flicking to your mouth just for a second. Just a second—but it was enough to knock the air sideways in your lungs.

You turned back to the cake, hoping your hands weren’t shaking. You started to cut, and Joel leaned closer, one hand resting on the counter beside you.

“Need me to steady the plate?” he asked.

Your hands were a little clumsy, distracted by the warmth of him next to you. “Maybe. It’s a two-person job.”

He chuckled, and you could feel the laugh more than hear it—like it buzzed through the space between your arm and his.

Then—

“You guys are standing really close,” Sarah’s voice rang out behind you, making you jump. She was leaning on the doorframe with a smug little grin.

Joel jerked his hand away like he’d been caught stealing.

“I was helping,” he muttered.

“With cake?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“Cutting’s an art,” Joel said, deadpan, making her giggle.

You just shook your head and passed her a plate. She skipped off with her prize, leaving you and Joel blinking in the soft hum of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” you said after a beat. “For everything today.”

Joel nodded, still a little red around the ears. “Wasn’t much.”

“It was,” you said. “And the book… I mean it.”

He smiled, shy but genuine. “Glad you liked it.”

And then neither of you moved. The air hung between you like a stretched-out string.

Until Sarah called from outside, “We need cake now!”

Joel exhaled. “Duty calls.”

You followed him out, but something lingered behind in the kitchen—the warmth of him, the nearness, the feeling that this thing between you wasn’t just in your head anymore.

The backyard had emptied. The last of the neighbors had waved their goodbyes. The string lights were still glowing, bugs dancing lazily in their warmth. Your dad had gone to bed after mumbling something about “too many burgers, not enough bourbon,” and the house was quiet now — quiet in a way that left too much room for your thoughts.

You were in the kitchen rinsing out plates, the hem of your party dress damp from leaning too close to the sink, your hands wrinkled and smelling like lemon soap. There was half a chocolate-strawberry cake left, the one Sarah had insisted on, and somehow you couldn’t just toss it.

She would’ve protested. Loudly.

You dried your hands, boxed the leftover slices neatly, and stared at the little pink-and-brown cake box for longer than you needed to.

Your feet moved before you could talk yourself out of it.

It was pushing 10:30, but Joel’s porch light was still on, casting a dim halo around the faded welcome mat. You knocked lightly, the box balanced on your hip.

A few seconds passed. Then the door creaked open.

Joel stood there barefoot in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, looking tired in the way only dads could be — soft around the edges but still solid, still present. His hair was tousled, and he looked like he’d only just sat down for the night.

“Hey,” he said, surprised but not unhappy. “Everything alright?”

You held up the cake box like a peace offering. “Didn’t feel right keeping it. Sarah picked it. Thought she might want it.”

He stepped aside, motioning you in. “She would’ve. She’s at Tommy’s tonight, though. Asked to sleep over.”

You paused on the threshold, your heart thudding a little louder. “Oh.”

“Come on in,” Joel said gently. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, stepping inside. The house smelled like clean laundry and cedar. Familiar and warm. Lived-in. You followed him into the kitchen and set the cake down on the counter.

Joel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Long day?”

You smiled faintly. “Fun day. Weird, too. Turning twenty-two in your childhood backyard while your babysitting kid gives you love advice.”

Joel chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Yeah. She’s... somethin’.”

You leaned back on your elbows against the counter. The room was dim — just the small lamp over the sink on — and the silence was comfortable at first. But then it turned charged. He hadn’t moved. Neither had you.

Your gaze drifted. His jaw was stubbled, his hair slightly damp, like maybe he’d just taken a shower. He looked... good. More than good.

You caught him watching you back, just a second too long.

The moment thickened.

“I, uh,” you started, voice catching slightly. “I meant what I said earlier. About the book. It was... really thoughtful.”

Joel looked at you then — really looked — and whatever wall he’d been holding onto, the one made of age difference and neighborly boundaries and the awkwardness of being Sarah’s dad... it cracked.

He pushed off the doorway slowly, walked toward you, stopping just close enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said softly.

The space between you was a livewire.

“I keep trying not to think about you like this,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

His jaw tightened — not in anger, but in restraint.

“Me too.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then — softly, carefully — Joel reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed your cheek, lingered.

“You’re too young for me,” Joel said, the words barely more than a gravel-edged whisper.

You looked up at him, your chest tight, heart thudding in your throat. “I’m not a kid.”

His eyes darkened, like you’d struck a match in the middle of a dry field. He swallowed hard. “I know.”

The silence between you turned into something electric, something living. The only sound was the quiet hum of the fridge and your own uneven breathing.

Joel took a small step forward, just enough to close the last of the space. He stood so close you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint crease between his brows like he was warring with himself. His hand came up—slow, hesitant—and hovered near your face before he finally gave in and touched you. His thumb skimmed along your jaw, rough fingertips brushing the soft edge of your cheek.

“Been tryin’ real damn hard not to want this,” he said, voice ragged.

Your breath hitched. “Then stop trying.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you.

But it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was weeks, maybe even months of unspoken glances, quiet admiration, long nights with Sarah between you, laughter over coffee, shared space, and now, finally, just the two of you.

His mouth found yours like he’d already dreamed it. His hands were sure now, cupping your face, sliding into your hair, then down—down to your waist, your hips—pulling you flush against him. You made a quiet sound against his mouth and that undid something in him. He groaned, low in his throat, and kissed you deeper, lips parting, tongue brushing yours, slow and deliberate.

You didn’t realize you’d moved until your back hit the counter behind you. His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in but never pressing too hard. Just close. Just real.

You slid your fingers into his hair, damp from a shower or maybe just the heat of the night, tugging lightly. He leaned into your touch, one hand sliding beneath the hem of your shirt at your back—his palm hot against your skin, callused but careful. The contrast made your knees weaken.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing fast, uneven. You could feel his heart pounding through his chest, matching yours like a drumbeat in sync.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said again, but this time it sounded like a confession. A regret that wasn’t real.

“But you did,” you whispered, lips still tingling, hand still curled into his shirt like you couldn’t let him go just yet.

Joel’s eyes searched yours, something stormy flickering in their depths. “If you stay... if we do this... it ain’t casual for me. You understand that?”

You nodded slowly.

A beat passed. Then another.

His hand slid to your cheek again, and he kissed you once more—slower this time, a kind of reverence in it. His lips pressed to yours like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. Like he didn’t quite believe it was real.

When he pulled back again, there was a trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Tired. Hopeful. Hungry.

“You wanna stay?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, really looked. His bare feet on the kitchen floor. His hair mussed. That tiny crease between his brows. The way his eyes had gone soft, all guarded affection and barely restrained want.

��Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

Joel’s breath was still shallow when he stepped back just enough to look at you, like he was double-checking that you were still there, still real. You didn’t let go of him. Your fingers were still hooked into the front of his shirt, still pressing against the solid warmth of him.

His voice was quiet, low and careful. “If we go upstairs…”

“I know what I’m saying yes to,” you interrupted softly.

He hesitated, studying you like you were a question he’d never been brave enough to answer until now. But something in your face, in your voice, seemed to break whatever final restraint he was holding onto.

Joel nodded once.

Wordless, he took your hand.

The walk through the house was quiet, heavy with tension—not the awkward kind, but the kind that hummed in the air like a string pulled taut. Each step up the stairs felt like it carried weight. Anticipation. Choice.

His bedroom door creaked softly as he pushed it open.

In the dim lighting, it felt intimate. Lived-in but not messy. Clean but unpretentious. The scent of him lingered in the space—cedar soap and sawdust, fabric softener and something deeper, something unmistakably Joel.

He turned to face you in the doorway, fingers still twined with yours.

“You still okay?” he asked, voice rough, eyes searching yours like he was afraid to blink and miss something.

“Yes,” you whispered, breathless. “More than okay.”

Joel looked at you for a long moment. Then he leaned in and kissed you again — deeper this time, with more certainty, like the last of his resistance had slipped loose.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned softly against your mouth. He tasted like something rich and dark and slow. His hands roamed, reverent and careful, touching you like he was trying to learn you by feel — every curve, every sound you made under his fingertips.

When you gasped as his hand skimmed lower, he paused. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured into your skin.

You shook your head. “Don’t stop. Please, Joel.”

He kissed down your throat, down your chest, leaving a trail of warmth wherever his lips touched. Your back arched instinctively, your body aching to be closer. There was nothing rushed in the way he undressed you — every movement was measured, like he was unwrapping something he’d wanted for a long, long time but never thought he’d be allowed to have.

And when you were bare beneath him, laid out in the soft hush of his bedroom, you felt more seen — more wanted — than you ever had before.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Joel murmured, his hand brushing along your waist, your hip, your thigh. “Don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”

You reached for him, found the hem of his shirt, and he let you lift it up and over his head. He was solid and warm and real beneath your palms, and when you kissed down his chest, he hissed through his teeth — a sound that made heat curl deep in your stomach.

The rest came off piece by piece — not rushed, but not slow either. Just… inevitable.

And then he was over you again, skin to skin, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His nose brushed yours, like a silent request.

You cupped his cheek. “I want this. I want you.”

He kissed you again — not soft this time, but sure, open, claiming. His hand slipped under your thigh, lifted you to him, and you felt him press against you, heavy and warm.

You both gasped as your bodies joined — not all at once, but slowly, carefully, like you were fitting puzzle pieces together. Like your bodies already knew the rhythm even if the rest of you hadn’t caught up yet.

Joel’s breath stuttered as he sank fully into you, and for a moment, he just held there — his forehead against yours, both of you trembling, trying to hold on.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You feel like heaven.”

You didn’t have the words to answer. Just the way your hands clung to him, the way your body opened for him, welcomed him in.

He moved slowly, deliberately — not just fucking you, but feeling you, like this meant something. Like he was afraid to miss it.

And you met him, movement for movement, every breath shared, every sound caught in the dark like a secret.

There was something tender in the way he whispered your name when you cried out his — something reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to have you like this. And when your body tightened around him, shuddered beneath him, he caught you through it, kissed your cheek, your mouth, your neck — whispered that you were perfect, that you were his.

He followed soon after, his voice breaking into a groan as he pressed as deep as he could, shaking with the force of it, with everything he’d been holding back.

When it was over, he didn’t move far. Just enough to roll you gently to your side and pull you close, your bodies still tangled together, still warm and slick with each other.

You felt him kiss your shoulder, then your neck. “You okay?” he asked again, voice softer than ever.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Joel…”

He pulled you tighter. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

You tucked your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, listened to his heartbeat.

And that’s how you stayed — wrapped in warmth, in quiet, in something neither of you were ready to name, but both of you felt all the same.

A/N: Should i make a part two for this? Idk how i would continue it, so if you want drop some ideas in the comments. Thanks for reading hun xx

[patrixjia]

Spiderman Han Jisung

Plot Overview:

After filming an episode of SKZ Code where they had to wear costumes, Jisung comes home still dressed in his tight Spiderman suit—minus the mask, plus a cocky smirk. He knows about your little Spidey fantasy, and he’s more than happy to make it a reality.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ 🔞 | dom!Jisung | Spiderman kink | dirty talk | unprotected sex | rough sex | spanking | choking (light) | teasing/brat taming | Jisung being a filthy, cocky menace

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The air feels heavy with anticipation the moment you hear the front door creak open. You’ve been waiting for this, waiting for him, and he knows it. You’ve been texting Jisung all day, but he’s been leaving you hanging on purpose, letting the tension simmer. His last message was a simple tease:

You’re gonna want to keep the door unlocked. I’m bringing your favorite hero to you.

Of course, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. Not in a million years. But here you are, sitting on the couch, phone still in hand, heart pounding as the sound of his footsteps gets closer.

When the door swings open, you almost forget how to breathe.

There he stands. Jisung. But not your usual boyfriend. No, tonight he’s Spider-Man. Well… your version of Spider-Man.

The suit isn’t the usual full-on getup. It’s the tight, form-fitting Spider-Man shirt he wore during SKZ CODE—his choice for the costume challenge. It’s red and blue, just like the one you’d imagine, but it’s so tight, so impossibly tight, that every curve of his muscles is on display. His chest, his arms—everything looks sharper, more defined. The shirt hugs his biceps and his abs, making you ache in places you didn’t know you could ache. His jeans? Dark, distressed, and just the right amount of ripped. They cling to his thighs like a second skin, and you can’t help but notice how perfect he looks.

His hair’s a little messy, tousled like he’s been running around. But damn, it only makes him hotter.

You bite back a gasp and raise an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. The kind of smirk that tells you exactly how much control he’s got.

“Like what you see?” His voice is low, dripping with cockiness. He knows he’s making your heart race.

You don’t even try to hide your reaction. “You’re fucking hot,” you say, the words slipping out before you can think twice.

His smile widens, and you can see the pride in his eyes. “Glad you think so, babe.” He steps forward, slowly, deliberately, closing the space between you two. Every inch of his body is on display, and you can feel your pulse quicken with every step he takes. “Tell me, Y/N… you like the costume? Or is it just me you’re after?”

You meet him halfway, walking right up to him, your body almost vibrating with the desire you can’t quite hide. Your eyes scan him from head to toe, and you let out a breath, letting him see how much he’s affecting you. “It’s you, Jisung,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’re the only thing I can think about right now.”

His gaze darkens as he closes the gap between you. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to yours. He can feel the tension radiating off you, and he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers brush along your neck, his touch light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

You exhale, biting your lip as your hands trail down his chest, fingertips grazing the tight fabric. “I think you know what I want, baby,” you murmur, voice thick with desire. “You’ve got me fucking pinned already. What do you think I’m gonna do?”

His smirk deepens, almost like he’s daring you to take it further. “I think you should show me,” he says, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer until your body is pressed against his. He can feel the heat radiating off you, and it makes him want you even more. “But I don’t mind waiting.”

You roll your eyes and give him a playful shove, though you’re not exactly pulling away. “You’re so cocky,” you tease, but there’s no hiding the heat in your voice. “You really think I’m just gonna drop to my knees for you?”

His eyes gleam with a challenge, and before you can even react, his hand is cupping your chin, tilting your face up so you can’t look away. “Maybe not drop to your knees,” he growls, his voice dark and dangerous, “but I want to feel you beg in your own way.”

The space between you closes again, and this time, when he kisses you, there’s nothing playful about it. His lips are urgent, hungry, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. His tongue presses against yours, and your body reacts instinctively, hands moving to his chest, tugging him closer, pulling him into you with a desperate need.

You can feel the heat between your legs building, your body aching for him, and you can’t hold back anymore. You break away from the kiss, your chest rising and falling with the rush of adrenaline.

“Take me, Jisung,” you whisper, voice low, dripping with need. “Now.”

He looks at you with that cocky grin, but there’s a fire in his eyes. “You’re not getting off that easy, baby.” His voice is rough, his breath ragged, and it sends a jolt of desire straight to your core. “You want me that bad? I’ll give it to you… but you’re gonna have to earn it first.”

You don’t need to think about it. You grab his shirt, pulling him closer, your lips crashing against his again. You’re not waiting anymore. You need him. Right now.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel his hands roaming down your back, grasping at your waist. Every touch sends a spark through you, and you can’t get enough. The heat between you two intensifies, and it’s no longer about playing games. It’s about taking what you both want, unapologetically, without restraint.

Jisung’s hands are all over you, gripping your waist, your hips, sliding up your back as he presses you flush against him. The heat between you is intoxicating, the way his body feels under your fingertips—solid, strong, familiar yet still enough to make your head spin.

“You have no fucking idea how bad I need you right now,” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough, breathless. “Spent the whole day thinking about you… about taking this off you piece by piece.”

His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, but he doesn’t move too fast. No, he likes to tease, and you know it. He lets his knuckles graze your skin, watching the way your breath hitches, a smirk curling on his lips.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his chest, but you don’t really mean it. “Then stop talking and do something about it.”

That does something to him. His grip tightens, and in one smooth motion, he yanks your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought. His eyes drop to your body, lingering, darkening.

“Fuck,” he breathes, tilting his head as he drags a thumb over your exposed collarbone. “You always look this good for me, baby?”

You bite your lip, letting him look, letting him ache for it. “Only for you,” you murmur.

That earns you a low groan. His hands are on you again, slipping around your back, fingers moving with practiced ease as he unhooks your bra, letting it slide down your arms before he catches it and tosses it away.

The second you’re bare, his lips are on your neck, hot and open-mouthed, working their way down with slow, deliberate kisses. He takes his time, like he’s savoring the way you shudder under his touch, the way your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly.

“You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your chest before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “I could do this all night. Just touching you. Tasting you.”

You huff a breathless laugh, hands moving down to the hem of his Spiderman shirt—the tight one that clings to his body in all the right places, stretched across his muscles. You slide your fingers underneath, feeling the warmth of his skin, the definition of his abs.

“Take this off,” you demand, voice hushed, heavy with need.

Jisung smirks. “You that desperate to see me, baby?”

You tug at the fabric in response, and he laughs, but it’s cut short when you lean in, letting your lips skim his jaw, your voice dropping to a whisper.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day too,” you admit, feeling the way his breath catches. “About how fucking hot you are in this. But I need to see all of you.”

That does it. In one smooth motion, he pulls the Spiderman shirt over his head, tossing it aside, leaving his upper body bare, his toned muscles on full display. He watches your reaction, the way your lips part slightly, the way your fingers immediately reach out to trace the hard lines of his torso.

“Like what you see?” he taunts, voice low.

You hum in approval, dragging your nails lightly over his skin, watching the way his abs tense under your touch. “Yeah,” you breathe. “You’ve been working out, huh?”

Jisung grins, cocky. “Had to get stronger, baby. You’re a lot to handle.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, but you don’t deny it. Instead, you let your hands drift lower, trailing over the waistband of his jeans. He shivers slightly at your touch, his breath faltering for just a second.

“You gonna take these off, or do I have to do everything myself?” you tease, glancing up at him with a smirk.

His expression darkens instantly, and before you can react, he’s gripping your hips, flipping the two of you so that you’re underneath him, pinned against the couch. His knee presses between your legs, just enough to make you gasp.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, teasing. “You love when I take control, don’t you?”

You swallow hard, your fingers digging into his biceps. “I love it when you stop talking and get these fucking jeans off.”

Jisung grins, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to pop the button of his jeans. He does it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way his fingers move, the way he drags the zipper down with an infuriating smirk.

But before he pushes them off, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, gripping the denim tight.

“These first,” he says, voice thick with authority.

You raise an eyebrow. “Make me.”

His lips twitch, eyes flashing with something dangerous, something wicked.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm against your ear. “I don’t think you want me to make you.”

And then, before you can snap back, his hands are on your jeans, yanking them down with one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him in nothing but your panties. The way his eyes darken at the sight sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he breathes, dragging his fingers lightly up your thigh. “Been waiting for me all day, huh?”

You exhale sharply, your body already burning with anticipation. “Maybe.”

Jisung clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he runs a hand over your thigh, squeezing just enough to make you squirm. “Lying to me already?” he muses, his fingers ghosting over the heat between your legs. “I can feel how bad you need me.”

You bite back a moan, tilting your chin up defiantly. “Then do something about it.”

That’s all the invitation he needs.

His hands move again, his own jeans finally being shoved down, leaving nothing but skin between you. His body is flush against yours, hot, solid, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in, his lips barely an inch from yours.

“Hope you’re ready, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re begging me for more.”

And the way he’s looking at you? You believe every fucking word.

Jisung’s fingers ghost over your bare skin, teasing, exploring, making you shudder with anticipation. His lips trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he grins against you.

“You’re already shaking for me, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth lightly along your jaw before pulling back to look at you. “So fucking needy.”

You bite your lip, your fingers gripping his biceps. “Then stop teasing and fuck me already.”

His smirk deepens, full of amusement and something darker. “Oh, you think you get to tell me what to do?” His voice drops lower, rough with dominance. “That’s cute.”

Before you can snap back, his hand moves—fingers trailing between your legs, sliding against your already-wet heat. You gasp, your back arching off the couch as your body reacts instantly.

“Shit,” Jisung groans, his breath hitching as he feels how wet you are. “You’re soaking, baby.” He leans in, his lips barely grazing yours. “Been waiting for me all day, huh? Getting all worked up thinking about how I’d fuck you?”

You swallow hard, your hips instinctively rocking into his touch. “Maybe.”

Jisung chuckles, low and dangerous. “Still lying to me?” His fingers slide lower, pressing just enough to make you moan. “You’re dripping for me, baby. You can’t hide how much you want it.”

Your breath stutters as he moves, his fingers slipping inside you with ease, curling just right, stretching you just enough to make your whole body tremble.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Jisung—”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is mocking, playful, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you struggle to stay composed. He pushes in deeper, moving at an agonizing pace. “You need something?”

You glare at him, your body aching for more, for him. “I need you to stop playing games and give me your cock already.”

Jisung groans at your words, his hand tightening on your thigh. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You love talking like that, don’t you?”

You smirk, your body still moving against his touch. “You love it when I do.”

He exhales sharply, his control snapping just enough for him to act. His fingers leave you, and you barely have a second to process the loss before he’s gripping your thighs, pulling you closer.

His cock presses against you, hot and hard, and fuck, he’s big—the sight alone enough to make your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Jisung watches your reaction, his smirk returning. “You gonna take all of me, baby?” His fingers trail down your thigh, squeezing. “Or do I need to stretch you out more first?”

Your breath catches, heat pooling in your core at his words. “I can take it,” you whisper.

Jisung groans, his head dropping for a second as he grips himself, lining up against your entrance, dragging the tip along your slick heat just to tease you further.

You whine, your hips lifting instinctively. “Jisung—”

He grips your hips, pinning you down. “Say it.” His voice is dark, commanding. “Say you need me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pushing back just enough to challenge him. “You know I do.”

Jisung lets out a low chuckle, amused. “Brat.”

And then he pushes in, slowly, stretching you open, making you gasp as he fills you inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs, his muscles flexing under your touch. “You feel so fucking tight.”

Your head tilts back, pleasure flooding through you as he sinks in deeper, pushing himself fully inside you.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath, his jaw clenched as he looks down at where your bodies are connected. “Look at you,” he mutters, running a hand up your stomach, fingers grazing your chest before wrapping lightly around your throat. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Your breath hitches, your hands finding his waist, nails digging in as your body adjusts around him. “Move,” you whisper.

Jisung groans, closing his eyes for a second like he’s trying to compose himself. But when he opens them again, his gaze is wild, dark, full of need.

“Anything for you, baby.”

And then he starts to move.

Jisung starts slow, dragging his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, filling you in one deep stroke that knocks the air from your lungs. Your fingers grip his arms, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t slow down—he just smirks, watching you struggle to keep up.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his voice rough, strained with pleasure. “Take it like a good fucking girl.”

You moan at his words, at the way his hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place so you have no choice but to feel everything—the way he stretches you, the way his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

“Jisung—” Your voice is already breathless, your body burning with how good he feels.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he thrusts into you again, harder this time. “Say my name like that again,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your earlobe before he nips at it. “I love hearing you like this.”

You bite your lip, your hands running down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he moves. He’s holding back—barely. You can feel it in the way his hips twitch, the way his breathing gets uneven, the way his grip tightens like he’s restraining himself from losing control completely.

You meet his thrusts, pushing your hips up to match his pace, and the movement pulls a deep, guttural groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his forehead pressing against yours for a second before he pulls back, his hand sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

You gasp, your body arching off the couch as he starts rubbing slow, precise circles. “Shit—”

Jisung grins, his eyes burning into yours. “That feel good?” His tone is taunting, but there’s hunger beneath it, something raw and unfiltered. “You like when I fuck you like this? When I play with you like this?”

Your breath stutters, pleasure tightening in your core as his pace increases, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, sharper.

“You love this, don’t you?” His voice is pure sin, dark and dripping with lust. “You love being fucked like this. Letting me do whatever I want to you.”

You can’t even think straight anymore. He’s everywhere—all over you, inside you, surrounding you, drowning you in sensation.

“Tell me, baby.” His hand moves faster between your legs, making you gasp, your nails raking down his back. “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You barely manage a breath. “You.”

Jisung growls, his hips snapping into you harder. “Say it again.”

You whimper, the pleasure almost unbearable. “You, Jisung—fuck, it’s you.”

He groans, his head tilting back as he watches you unravel beneath him, his rhythm never faltering. “That’s right, baby.” His voice is hoarse, wrecked. “And I’m not stopping until you scream for me.”

And with the way he’s fucking you? You know you won’t last much longer.

Jisung’s pace is brutal now—deep, relentless thrusts that leave you gasping, your body arching into him as he works you open, his fingers still tight on your clit. He’s watching you like he lives for this, like there’s nothing better in the world than seeing you fall apart under him.

“Look at you,” he groans, dragging his tongue along his bottom lip as he takes you in. “So fucking wrecked for me.”

You can barely form words, your hands gripping his arms, nails leaving angry red streaks down his biceps. His body is burning under your touch, muscles flexing as he pounds into you, chasing his own high while making sure you feel everything.

And then, suddenly, he pulls out.

You let out a breathless whine, your body desperate for the fullness he just ripped away. “Jisung—”

But he’s already moving, hands gripping your thighs, flipping you over before you can protest. His strength is effortless, controlled. He wants you like this.

“On your knees, baby,” he commands, his voice rough, dangerous. “I want you just like this.”

You barely have time to react before his hands are on you again—one gripping your hip, the other sliding up your spine, pressing you down until your chest meets the couch. You feel his cock pressing against you, thick and heavy, teasing you with slow drags against your slick heat.

You let out a frustrated sound, rocking back against him, trying to push him inside again. “Jisung, I swear to—”

A sharp slap lands on your ass, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight through your core.

“Oh, baby,” he chuckles darkly. “You really don’t have any patience, do you?”

You turn your head, glaring at him over your shoulder. “And you talk too fucking much.”

Jisung groans, his fingers tightening on your hips. “God, I love that fucking mouth of yours,” he mutters. “But you know I gotta put you in your place for that, right?”

And then he slams into you.

You choke out a moan, your arms barely keeping you up as he fills you again in one sharp thrust. The new angle has you seeing stars—he’s deeper, hitting places that have your whole body trembling beneath him.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his hands running up your back before gripping your waist, holding you steady as he starts to move. “You feel so fucking good like this. So tight—so wet for me.”

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, filthy and perfect. Every thrust has you gasping, every roll of his hips making you crave more, more, more.

Jisung leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “This what you needed?” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “Needed me to fuck you like this?”

You can only moan in response, your body completely giving into the way he’s taking you.

Jisung groans, his hand sliding up to wrap around your throat—not squeezing, just holding you there, making you feel owned.

“I could keep you like this all fucking night,” he mutters, his voice pure sin. “Bent over, dripping for me, letting me ruin you however I want.”

You whimper, pushing back against him, your whole body burning for him.

Jisung chuckles breathlessly, his lips skimming your shoulder. “So desperate,” he taunts, his pace still ruthless. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, not even trying to deny it.

Jisung groans, his grip tightening. “Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his movements turning erratic. “I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard for me.”

Jisung’s grip on your waist is bruising now, his pace relentless—like he’s lost in it, in you, in the way your body reacts to every sharp thrust. His breath is hot against your ear, his groans ragged, desperate, wrecked.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his voice thick with need. “You feel so fucking good—gripping me so tight, like you never wanna let me go.”

You’re barely holding yourself up anymore, your arms trembling beneath you, body burning from the way he’s pounding into you. Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every roll of his hips sends pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave.

Jisung loves it—loves seeing you like this, completely at his mercy, taking everything he gives you.

“Shit,” he groans, his fingers sliding between your legs again, finding your clit with ruthless precision. “You’re dripping, baby. Making such a fucking mess on me.”

You cry out as he circles your clit, his movements sharp, focused—he knows your body, knows exactly how to push you to the edge and keep you there.

Your body tenses, your breath coming in broken gasps. “Jisung—fuck, I—”

He grins, feeling you tighten around him. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, voice dark, teasing. “You gonna cum for me?”

You nod—barely coherent, too far gone to care how desperate you sound. “Yes—fuck, yes, don’t stop—”

Jisung groans, his rhythm stuttering for just a second. “God, I love hearing you beg for it,” he breathes. His grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts turning erratic, harder, deeper. “Give it to me, baby. Cum for me—I wanna feel you.”

The pressure in your core snaps.

Pleasure crashes through you, so intense your vision blurs, your whole body trembling as your orgasm hits you like a shockwave. You scream his name, nails digging into the couch as wave after wave rolls through you, your walls pulsing hard around his cock.

Jisung loses it.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck—” His grip tightens as he buries himself deep, his own release slamming into him. He growls, his body tensing as he spills inside you, hips jerking with the force of his climax. His breath comes in heavy, ragged pants, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he rides out his high.

For a long moment, neither of you move—both of you still trembling, bodies slick with sweat, lungs fighting for air.

Jisung groans as he finally collapses onto the couch beside you, chest still rising and falling in uneven breaths. His skin is warm, slick with sweat, and the smug little grin on his face is downright insufferable.

You roll onto your side, still catching your breath, propping yourself up just enough to look at him. His Spiderman top is still clinging to his torso, stretched tight across his chest and arms—his hair a complete mess, damp with sweat.

And he looks fucking wrecked.

“Damn,” you murmur, reaching out to trace your fingers over his stomach. “Imagine if Stay knew that behind all the cute quokka shit, you’re actually a filthy, cocky, slutty little dom.”

Jisung grins. Smirks. His eyes flicker to you, dark and lazy, a slow, satisfied chuckle spilling from his lips.

“Oh, baby,” he hums, dragging his fingers down your thigh. “Some things are only reserved for you.”

You scoff, but your stomach flips at the way he says it, at the way his voice dips lower, deeper.

“You better not be out here calling other girls baby,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jisung grins, leaning in to nuzzle against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Nah,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw. “I save all my best shit for you.”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Including that dirty mouth of yours?”

He laughs—soft, genuine, warm. “Especially that.”

His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, his lips finding yours in a slow, lazy kiss. It’s a stark contrast to how he was taking you minutes ago—filthy and relentless—now he’s just savoring you, soaking in the aftermath, letting the warmth settle between you.

You sigh against him, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. “I can’t believe you fucked me in a Spiderman suit,” you mumble, lips curling into a smile.

Jisung pulls back just enough to grin at you. “And you loved it.”

You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead. “Shut up.”

He laughs, grabbing your hand before you can move away, pressing soft kisses against your knuckles. His touch is still teasing, still playful, but there’s something softer beneath it now—something intimate.

Jisung watches you for a moment, eyes lidded, voice dropping just above a whisper.

“You know,” he murmurs, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. “I’d wear this stupid costume a hundred more times if it meant making you feel that good again.”

Your heart stumbles at that—because he means it, even through the teasing, even through the smug grin.

You smirk, shifting just enough to hover over him, your hands pressing against his chest. “I might take you up on that.”

Jisung grins, eyes darkening again, hands already sliding down your waist.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with something dangerous.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @lezleeferguson-120

[kateschi]

into the ashes

synopsis: amid the chaos of flames and debris, dabi bares witness to you getting injured. he does not like it.

pairing: dabi x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: behold i have forced my bestie into liking him

the air reeks of smoke and burnt metal, debris scattering across the alley as another explosion rocks the street. you’re cornered, body trembling from the impact, struggling to regain your footing.

blood trickles down your arm from a gash on your shoulder, and the sharp sting makes your vision blur for a moment.

dabi stands a few feet away, eyes locked on the thug who had dared to strike you. his entire frame is tense, shadows dancing across his scarred skin, the blue flames licking at his fingertips ready to erupt.

he doesn’t even glance your way at first—his gaze is trained solely on the scum in front of him.

"you’re going to regret that," he says, voice low and lethal, a dark promise wrapped in fire.

the thug grins, clearly underestimating the depth of dabi’s rage. but you can see it—the way his blue eyes darken, how the flames around him burn hotter, more unstable.

there’s no room for banter now, no time for him to throw his usual sarcastic remarks. the second you hit the ground, his entire focus narrowed to one thing: absolute destruction.

but as much as his fury is directed outward, there’s something more dangerous in his posture—something sharp and suffocating in the way his hands shake, just barely under control.

for once, he’s not just mad. he’s terrified.

"dabi—" you start, trying to push yourself up, the pain shooting through your side forcing you back down.

he whirls around at the sound of your voice, and for a split second, you see something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

it’s brief, but the fear is there, raw and unchecked, the kind of fear that cracks through the facade he wears so well. his lips curl back into a snarl, but the flames flicker dangerously as he rushes toward you, the thug all but forgotten in that moment.

"don’t move." his voice is harsh, sharper than usual, but there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. "just—stay still, alright?"

you blink up at him, dazed, but you manage a weak nod. he kneels beside you, one of his hands hovering just above your wound, hesitating.

his touch is scorching, his quirk on the verge of slipping out of control, and he knows it. the last thing he wants is to hurt you more.

"fuck…" his breath comes out in a shaky exhale as he forces himself to calm down, though the fury in his eyes hasn’t diminished.

"you—you're so goddamn stubborn, you know that?" his voice wavers for a second, betraying the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to conceal.

you manage a faint smile despite the pain. "takes one to know one."

his lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but the moment is fleeting as the sound of movement snaps his attention back to the thug behind him. instantly, his entire demeanor changes.

his hand slips away from yours, blue flames surging to life once more, but this time, they’re different—brighter, hotter, more dangerous. the air around him pulses with a terrifying heat, and the ground beneath his feet begins to blacken.

"you think you can touch her and walk away?" dabi’s voice is venomous now, dripping with pure hatred. "I’ll burn you until there’s nothing left."

there’s no mercy in him anymore, no restraint. you can barely keep up with what happens next as he moves in a blur, his flames surging forward like a wildfire.

you can hear the thug’s screams as dabi unleashes the full force of his power, the blue fire consuming everything in its path.

the heat is suffocating, but you can’t look away. you’ve seen dabi angry before, but this is something else entirely.

this is him unhinged, relentless, the raw intensity of his emotions laid bare for the world to see. it’s terrifying and yet… there’s a twisted kind of beauty in it, in how fiercely he fights for you.

in minutes, it’s over.

the alley falls silent, save for the crackling of dying flames, and dabi stands amidst the ashes of what used to be the thug. his chest rises and falls heavily, his skin gleaming with sweat, but his eyes find you immediately.

without a word, he’s back at your side, kneeling down, his hand reaching for yours again. his fingers are still warm, but gentler now, as though he’s scared you’ll break under his touch.

"don’t you ever—" his voice is hoarse, ragged with emotion. "don’t you ever get hurt like that again."

there’s no teasing this time, no snide remark to hide behind. his grip tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to let you know just how much this is affecting him.

he doesn’t want to say the words, doesn’t want to admit just how deep you’ve gotten under his skin, but it’s there, in the way he holds onto you like he’s scared you’ll slip away.

you give his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him the only comfort you can in that moment. "I’m okay, dabi."

his jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. "you’re not. and that’s the problem."

for a moment, he just sits there, staring down at your intertwined hands. his flames have finally receded, the heat dissipating, leaving only the cool night air around you both.

when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost vulnerable. "I can’t—" he stops himself, frustration flashing across his face as if the words themselves are too hard to say. "I can’t watch you get hurt. not you."

it’s not an outright confession, but it’s close. as close as dabi can get. and in the way his hand trembles slightly in yours, in the way his gaze softens, just for you, you realize that maybe that’s enough.

for now.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[actuallysaiyan]

You Could Have Have Anyone You Want, Why Would You Want To Be With Me?

warnings: Post-Shibuya, mentions of scars, smut, insecurities, JJK Spoilers, unprotected sex/creampie finish word count: 1.4k pairings: Post-Shibuya!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: your husband feels so insecure since surviving the Shibuya Incident, he doesn't understand why you'd stay with him...so you remind him of just how much you truly love him.

Your heart is breaking every time you look at your husband. Ever since the Shibuya Incident, he’s been a shell of a man. You know it’s really affected him and made him feel so useless and vulnerable. He feels like a burden on you.

But it doesn’t take long for you to begin missing physical intimacy with him. He’s healed up well thanks to Shoko’s technique, but there are still some scars and he’s got a weak leg and he can’t see perfectly well out of his left eye. He doesn’t think he looks good at all, despite the fact that he still looks so picturesque and gorgeous as he always has.

One night as he’s winding down after a day at the office, you find yourself feeling even more needy than usual. You want to crawl onto his lap and press soft kisses all over his face and chest. There’s a part of you that is so scared to initiate anything. Still, you want to show him you still love him just as much as before.

So after a warm shower and lots of skincare, you throw on one of Kento’s t-shirts and you go snuggle up next to him on the couch. The minute he sees you, his eyes widen. There’s a dusting of pink on his cheeks that gives him that perfect boyish charm you’ve come to fall for.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You coo softly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek.

He slides away, “Are you comfortable?”

You sigh softly, turning away so he doesn’t see just how upset you are. He feels something stirring inside of him, but he thinks there’s just no way you’d ever want to be intimate with him ever again. His heart aches at the thought of you growing bored of him and finding someone new.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.” You scoot closer, your hand gently brushing down his arm.

His heart skips a beat as he realizes what you’re trying to do. He can’t help but think this has got to be out of pity. How could you possibly think he’s attractive? He takes your hands in his and then gently places them on your lap.

“Please, I don’t…I don’t think I can handle the thought of you touching me out of pity.”

Your mouth hangs open as your jaw drops. How could he possibly think that was the reason you were touching him? It’s been months since you’ve been able to place your hands adoringly on his skin. It’s been months since he’s been deep inside of you, head on your chest and panting for more of you even if he’s as deep as can be.

“Why would you dare say something like that?” You snap, your words coming out harsher than you’d like.

Kento hesitates, “B-because…there’s just no way you could still find me attractive.”

His hands gesture towards his damaged eye, the littering of scars on that side of his body and his lame leg. Tears well up in your eyes as you settle on your knees on the couch. You can’t help yourself as you begin to cry.

“Kento Nanami, I have been in love with you since the day I met you. Just because you were injured gravely doesn’t stop me from loving you and thinking you're attractive.” You take a deep breath, “It has been months since we’ve had sex and I just…I just miss my husband so much.”

It’s Kento’s turn to begin to cry. You’ve hardly ever seen him cry. Maybe a few times since you’ve known him, and this was different from the times you’ve seen before. He’s so vulnerable right now, and you can tell he’s scared to lose you.

“I–I didn’t know what to think. My darling, I worried that maybe you’d grow tired of a damaged old man like me,”

You don’t even know what to say, so instead you wrap your arms around him softly and you begin pressing kisses all over his face like you wanted to. His cheeks grow hotter, and more tears stream down his face. He’s so happy to feel this love and affection again.

“I just feel like a monster every time I look in the mirror,”

This comment breaks your heart even more. You cup his face in your hands and you press your lips to his. It’s soft, loving and so tender. When you pull away, you press your forehead to his. In a soft tone, you whisper the sweetest words of love and praise for this man before you.

“You aren’t a monster. You are a hero, my love. And I am so happy I have you here with me. I am so grateful I get to live another day with you every time we wake up together in bed.”

He gasps softly at your words. He’s blushing even more now than ever. Then you gently take his hand and bring it under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He grunts softly when his fingertips brush against your soft pubic hair. He doesn’t need more guidance than this; he knows what to do next.

“You still think I don’t find you sexy? Cause I really do.” You coo softly, leaning in to kiss him as his fingers tease your swollen nub.

Kento continues his ministrations, his own cock beginning to harden in his pants. It doesn’t take long before he’s sliding off the sweatpants he’s wearing to show you the hardened member that’s just begging to be sucked, kissed and stroked. You notice there’s a portion of his cock that’s thicker than the rest; it’s scar tissue. 

“I think my pretty husband needs some love, don’t you?” You tease him, getting ready to kneel before him. But he surprises you by grabbing you by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

“Can’t wait, need you now,”

He lifts up your shirt and helps you out of it, tossing it to the corner of the room. He holds you up; the testament of his strength is still very apparent to you. Then with one quick thrust up into you, he’s balls deep inside. You’re both panting and moaning as your walls flutter around him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you whine as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. You take no time to begin pressing kisses to the scarred skin there.

He chuckles, “Yeah? Feel good?”

You nod dumbly as he begins bouncing you on his cock, “Feels so fucking good.”

The feeling of your lips on his scarred skin makes him shudder. The sensations of your tight little cunt gripping on his dick make him grunt and growl; the feeling of possessiveness comes crashing over him,

“You’re all mine,” He grunts in your ear before nipping at the lobe. “Mine, all mine.”

You cling to him, your little hands holding onto him as he fucks himself up into you. Every thrust of his cock sends you closer and closer to the Earth-shattering orgasm you’re so desperate to feel.

He pulls you in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He knows his own orgasm is imminent, so he needs to work fast if he wants you to come undone along with him. His hand comes up to your mouth, and he shoves two of his fingers in.

“Wet those fingers, baby. Do it for me,”

You don’t even hesitate to begin sucking on his fingers. You moan around them, your tongue gliding over the long digits. Then he pulls them from your mouth, only to press them against your swollen nub that’s been begging for attention. Faster and faster he rocks his hips, his other hand steadying you by your hip. You’re moving in tandem as you work towards the same goal.

“Fuck I love you,” Kento pants. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for the shit I said…”

You kiss him lovingly, “I love you too. I forgive you.”

The coil in your stomach is tightening more and more, and soon it snaps. Stars dance in your vision as you cry out his name desperately. The pleasure builds more and more as your orgasm courses through your body. You can barely hold yourself up as it becomes a blinding heat in your body. Kento’s struggling to hold on, your gummy walls are just milking him for everything he’s got.

“Gonna…oh fuck! I’m gonna cum!” He growls, holding you down against him as he bucks his hips wildly.

Ropes of hot, thick cum begin to coat your insides and fill your waiting womb as Kento succumbs to the pleasure of his own release. He’s growling and grunting; words that are both possessive and sweet tumble from his soft lips. Then he slows himself, still holding you down against his body.

“My precious love,” he whispers softly. You slowly open your eyes. “I’m sorry I ever doubted your love. I’ll never think of it that way again. I’ll never take it for granted.”

[insidekatmind]

Truth or Dare - Jonathan Daviss

You're sitting on the couch at Madelyn's house, surrounded by the cast of Outer Banks. Laughter fills the living room, softly lit by warm lights, and the smell of freshly baked pizza lingers in the air. Madelyn insisted on a relaxed evening with friends, far from the spotlight, and the idea of playing "Truth or Dare" was met with enthusiasm by everyone.

You find yourself next to Jonathan, as usual. Even though you both try to act normal, you can’t ignore the tension buzzing between you. Every time your eyes meet, you feel your face heat up, and you’re certain he notices.

Chase and Rudy, sitting across from you, miss nothing. Rudy smirks knowingly, and Chase makes no effort to hide his curious gaze. When your turn comes, Rudy leans forward with a mischievous expression.

"Truth or dare?" he asks, pointing at you.

"Truth," you reply, trying to sound calm.

Rudy exchanges a glance with Chase, then grins. "All right. Confess: do you like someone here?"

Your heart races. All eyes are on you, but only one gaze truly matters. You clear your throat, stalling for time, but before you can answer, Chase interjects.

"No, no, wait! Let’s switch to dare." He looks at Rudy, then at Jonathan, his grin growing wider. "Dare: you have to kiss."

Time seems to stop. Jonathan turns to you, and his eyes meet yours. For a moment, no one says anything. Then, with a small smile that seems to reassure you both, he leans in slowly.

The laughter and comments from the rest of the group fade into the background as you lean toward him. When your lips meet, the whole world seems to disappear, leaving only that moment between you.

You almost moaned into the kiss at how good he was. His hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. The kiss is almost languid, as if he's savoring each second.

Rudy and Chase exchange a knowing look, grinning mischievously but saying nothing. The others are quieter now, watching the scene unfold.Jonathan lingers a moment before finally pulling away, his lips still close to yours. His eyes are locked on yours, and you see the same desire mirrored in them, burning hotter than before.

He brings his lips together again, kissing you with more passion. Jonathan's other hand moves to your neck, pulling you closer to him. His lips are firm and slightly demanding now as he deepens the kiss. He seems to have forgotten the others, his focus entirely on you. Chase and Rudy quietly fistbump each other, clearly enjoying the show. The rest of the group seem slightly uncomfortable, but no one dares to interrupt.

His hand slides up from your neck to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kisses you. The feeling of his gentle touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but let out a small, involuntary sound, completely forgetting the presence of others. Chase grins, and Rudy mutters, "Damn, boy's got game." But for the first time tonight, they stay silent, watching with interest.

Jonathan finally pulls away, a hint of a smile on his lips as he looks at you for a moment. Then he glances at the others, who look a little surprised but clearly amused. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending another shiver down your spine. His voice, when he speaks, is barely above a whisper. "Are you ok?"

You just nod not trusting your words right now. The kiss had made you hot and flustered. He smiles at your reaction, his expression softening as he takes in your flushed face. He gently brushes his thumb against your cheek in a soothing gesture, understanding your wordlessness. The others continue chatting in the background, but you can feel their gazes occasionally darting towards you and Jonathan.

You look at him softly with dilated pupils, red cheeks and swollen lips from the kiss. In your eyes, you see his expression become a bit more intense. He seems almost hungry as he takes in your disheveled look. He leans a bit closer to you, his voice low, just for you. "Looks like that 'dare' was a good idea after all."

His gaze is intense, lingering on your lips. For a moment, it almost looks like he'd kiss you again, but he holds back, probably remembering they're not alone. Chase clears his throat, his voice interrupting the moment. "Aww, aren't you two cute?"

Rudy grins and adds, "They've got some chemistry, huh?"

Both you and Jonathan roll their eyes slightly, the moment broken by Rudy and Chase's comments. “We get it,” Jonathan says, giving them a playful glare.

Rudy grins. "Just sayin', it's nice to see the guy's got some action off-screen." Chase looks at you, a smirk on his face. "Looks like you're pretty great at 'truth and dare'."

Your face feels even warmer as the group chuckles, enjoying this little moment of banter. Jonathan shakes his head in mock annoyance, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips. "You guys are impossible."

Rudy grins. “Hey, we’re just keeping things interesting.” Chase, never willing to let a moment pass, pipes in. "Yeah, who knew a simple 'dare' would lead to this?"

Jonathan rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. He glances at you, then back at Chase and Rudy. "You two have a habit of stirring trouble, don't you?"

Rudy grins wide. “It’s in our job description, man.”

Chase chuckles. "Yep, we’re just here adding a little bit of spice to the pot.”

Jonathan shakes his head again, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He turns his attention back to you, his eyes holding a promise of more to come.

[yourlittlegoblin]

{Promises in the Rain} Tartaglia x Reader

Childe was the worst kind of boss—the cocky, smug, "I fight for fun" type who somehow still managed to look good doing it. You didn't ask for this assignment. You didn’t ask for him. But here you were, trudging through some forsaken forest at the edge of Liyue because he wanted to check something out “personally.”

Of course.

Then, as if the world itself agreed with your suffering, the sky cracked open with a thunderous boom and rain came pelting down in icy, relentless sheets.

You hissed and yanked your cloak tighter, teeth chattering. “Great. Just perfect.”

Beside you, Childe—Tartaglia, as he always insisted during “official business”—only laughed, water streaking down his already-drenched hair. “What, don’t like a little rain, comrade?”

You glared at him, flipping your hood up. “I don’t like you, comrade.”

He had the audacity to grin. “And yet here you are, following me into storms. You sure it’s not love?”

“If it is, it’s the ‘I’m gonna kill you in your sleep’ kind.”

“Ooh, how passionate.”

"Archons above, I hope a boar charges through here and takes you out,” you spat, wiping rain from your eyes. “I cannot believe I’m out here, in the middle of nowhere, soaking wet, with you of all people.”

Childe raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by your fury. “Language, comrade. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I kiss nobody with this mouth and you’re the reason why.”

He chuckled, completely drenched but somehow still annoyingly handsome. “You wound me. But lucky for you, I come prepared.”

He shrugged off his thick coat, holding it out toward you.

You stared at it like it was cursed. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a coat.”

“I know it’s a coat, you glorified popsicle, why are you giving it to me?”

“You’re cold,” he said simply, stepping closer.

You took a step back. “Don’t you dare. I swear to every Mora in this rotten world, I will bite you.”

“I’d pay to see that,” he murmured under his breath, before, without another word, tossing the damn coat over both of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You immediately flailed underneath it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! I will gut you like a fish! I will throw you into the harbor tied to a brick!”

“You’re so dramatic,” he said fondly, wrapping an arm casually around your shoulder under the coat to keep it steady. “Admit it. You love this.”

“What I love,” you growled, “is imagining you getting struck by lightning.”

“Ooh, how romantic.” He leaned a little closer, voice a smooth hum beside your ear. “First the rain, then the cuddling under my coat, then death threats. You know, some would call this a date.”

You hissed. Actually hissed. “You absolute menace of a man.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you grumbled, yanking the coat up higher over your head. “I don’t need anyone to protect me from the damn rain. I’m not made of sugar.”

“No,” he drawled, lips twitching, “you’re made of spice and fire and pure chaos. But even a storm like you needs a little cover sometimes.”

You shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “I swear, if you don’t stop talking in riddles and weird metaphors—”

He laughed, that low, warm sound that only made your blood boil hotter. “Alright, alright. Point is, I know you can handle yourself. Better than most, honestly.”

“Damn right.”

“But,” he added, leaning in just slightly, the coat tenting above you both, “I still want to protect you from the rain.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly hurt. “Great. You’re a sap now. What’s next? Poetry?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “And not just the rain. I’ll protect you from everything. Anything that ever dares to come close.”

You blinked.

Wait.

What?

The words hit like a sudden clap of thunder, out of place and far too real in the middle of all your usual jabs and snarls.

“…Wait what—?”

But Childe just smirked, infuriatingly smug, like he hadn’t just turned the whole atmosphere on its head. “You heard me.”

You stared at him, heart stuttering in a way you hated, rain still falling around you like a curtain pulled tight.

“…I’m gonna throw you in a river.”

He beamed. “So long as I’m tied to your heart, I’ll happily drown.”

“Oh my god.”

“Wrong Archon, sweetheart.”

Sorry I made this at like 3am---

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Nine: A Night of Realizations

Series Masterlist Next Episode

The soft hum of the television filled the apartment as [Reader] curled up on the couch, scrolling through the movie selection. It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to relax, maybe even finally have a peaceful night with Caleb.

Caleb, however, wasn’t as relaxed.

He sat beside her, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular. His mind was elsewhere—specifically on that damn senior of hers.

"That guy from earlier," he muttered.

[Reader] turned to him, blinking in confusion. "Who?"

"Your senior. Officer Lee." His voice was neutral, but his grip on the couch tightened slightly.

She raised a brow. "What about him?"

Caleb exhaled through his nose, glancing at her. "He seems to like you."

A laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it. "Caleb, that’s ridiculous."

"Is it?" His jaw tensed. "The way he looked at you, the way he tried to stop you from leaving with me—"

"He's just a colleague," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Besides, it’s not like it matters."

Caleb frowned. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Because we’re married. Even if it's… contractual."

The word contractual made her stomach twist. Saying it out loud hurt more than she expected.

Caleb fell silent.

Something in his chest tightened, though he didn’t know why. He knew their marriage wasn’t real, but hearing her say it so plainly—why did it bother him?

He let out a slow breath and nodded. "Right. Contractual."

A tense silence filled the air.

She hated it. Hated how distant it made her feel.

Caleb, meanwhile, was distracted with his own thoughts as he walked towards the bathroom, peeling off his hoodie. He pushed the door open, running a hand through his hair, ready to step inside—

Only to freeze.

Steam curled in the air. The sound of water running filled the room.

And standing there, in the middle of the shower, was [Reader].

Both of them locked eyes for half a second.

Then—

"CALEB!"

A scream tore through the apartment.

"I—SHIT—" Caleb’s eyes widened in horror as [Reader] yanked the shower curtain around herself.

"GET OUT!"

"YOU SAID YOUR SHOWER HEATER WAS BROKEN—!"

"THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN WALK IN—"

"I DIDN’T KNOW—"

"CALEB, I SWEAR TO—"

In his panic, Caleb fumbled for the doorknob, only to trip over the bath mat, nearly crashing into the sink.

"OH MY GOD—JUST—LEAVE!"

The door slammed shut so hard the walls shook.

Caleb stood outside, heart racing, pressing a hand over his face. Shit.

Inside the bathroom, [Reader] stood frozen, steam clinging to her skin, face burning hotter than the shower itself.

This was so embarrassing.

By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in her usual oversized hoodie and shorts, she refused to look Caleb in the eye.

He, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly on the couch, staring at the TV as if his life depended on it.

Silence.

Awkward. Suffocating.

Neither of them dared to say a word.

A few minutes passed.

Then—

"So…" [Reader] mumbled.

"Movie. Right. Let’s watch." Caleb grabbed the remote and pressed the first thing he saw.

An action film.

Neither of them paid attention.

Every few minutes, one of them would steal a glance at the other before immediately looking away, cheeks slightly pink.

Just as the tension was starting to settle, [Reader]’s phone vibrated on the table.

Her stomach twisted the moment she saw the caller ID.

Her father.

She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"

"So, you’ve been working as a ground controller this whole time?"

His tone was sharp. Cold.

A chill ran down her spine. "Dad, I—"

"And at the same airline as Liana?! Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

Her fingers curled around the phone. "I didn't think it mattered—"

"It matters when you're making things difficult for Liana!" he snapped.

She sucked in a breath. "I… I don’t understand."

"You never do. I want you to quit. Do as I say."

A lump formed in her throat.

"Dad, please—"

"I don't want to hear it! You always disappoint me. You're nothing compared to Liana!"

Silence.

The words stung. No, they burned.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Why? Why was he always like this?

What had she done to deserve this?

Ever since he cheated on her mother, he had done nothing but scold her, compare her to his perfect stepdaughter, treating her as if she was nothing but an inconvenience.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the sob threatening to escape.

She wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out.

Then—

The phone was pulled from her grasp.

Caleb.

His expression was dark. His voice was calm, but deadly. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Silence on the other end.

"She is my wife now," Caleb continued, voice firm, unwavering. "She's a Xia. She’s no longer tied to your pathetic excuse of a family."

And with that, he hung up.

The silence in the room was deafening.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the call, her father seethed, throwing his phone across the room in rage.

Back in the apartment, Caleb turned to [Reader].

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms.

"It's okay. Let it out," he murmured, holding her close.

She gripped his shirt tightly, burying her face into his chest.

For the first time in a long time—she allowed herself to cry

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos @auriuswolve @bookworm1999 @sickleddreamer @heeknow

[annovaz]

"CAUGHT IN YOUR GRAVITY"

pairing: sunghoon x Jake's cousin/Gym crush!reader

word count: 1,4k (for the time it took to write this you would think i wrote at least a 100)

genre: smut, fluff, angst, neighbors-to-lovers, best friend's cousin, little bit of everything lowkey

Summary: Sunghoon has a little gym crush on the girl who always catches his eye—only to find out she’s Jake’s cousin. When summer heat and lingering gazes turn into something more, things get complicated…

Warnings: language, sexual tension, jealousy, heated arguments, smut, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft confession, slight angst, possessive!Sunghoon, jealous!Sunghoon, (dw hes sweet tho) confident!reader, sunbathing and ogling, frat party setting, Heeseung being a player, minor alcohol consumption, all characters are of age.

a/n : guys its my first time writing and i feel like this is kind of bad so if it is pls tell me so i can delete it lol, i dont think writing is my thing. anyways i rlly hope u guys enjoy it tho bc i worked hard on this,

love u all (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Sunghoon didn’t do crushes, or relationships for that matter.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself every damn day.

He was disciplined, focused on his studies ( you'd be surprised to see his friend group), and spent two hours in the gym every evening. He never skipped leg day and never let distractions ruin his arrangement—until she walked in.

Tight gym shorts. Fitted top. Confidence dripped in every step she took.

And the worst part? She didn’t even glance his way.

Sunghoon wasn’t the only one who noticed her either. The entire gym seemed to pause whenever she walked by, men sneaking glances, some too obvious for his liking. She was the kind of girl everyone wanted to look at, but no one dared to approach. Too untouchable. Too out of reach.

But that didn’t stop Sunghoon from looking.

It started with curiosity—the way she moved with ease like she belonged there. Like she actually knew what she was doing. He saw the way she pushed herself, the sweat dripping down her back, the way she bit her lip when she concentrated. And then it became an obsession.

He adjusted his own routine to match hers, subtly timing his sets to steal glimpses in between. Sometimes she caught him. Smirked. Kept going, unbothered.

Fucking hell.

So imagine his shock when he walks into Jake’s house with his parents on his side for the family dinner and finds her sitting at the table, smiling like she owned the place.

“Sunghoon, meet my little cousin, Y/N,” Jake announces proudly. “She just moved back from Cuba, so treat her well.”

Sunghoon nearly chokes on his drink.

Jake’s cousin?

The girl he’d been lowkey (highkey) ogling for weeks?

No fucking way.

She turns to him, lips curled into an amused smirk, and says, “You’re staring.”

Jake laughs, slapping Sunghoon’s back. “Dude, what’s up with you?”

Sunghoon clears his throat, forcing his eyes away. “Nothing. Just—uh. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh?” Her eyes glint with something unreadable. “You look familiar.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her smirk widens. “Maybe from the gym?”

Shit. Busted.

Jake’s mom beams. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Sunghoon practically lives at the gym. Maybe he can show you around.”

Y/N tilts her head. “I think I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Fuck, she was cocky. Sunghoon felt something tighten in his chest.

Dinner is a blur. Family chatter, laughter, and praise are thrown at the kids. Jake’s parents gushing about how he and Sunghoon grew up to be such handsome young men. Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s focus is elsewhere—on Y/N, her amused glances, the way she sips her wine with a smirk, completely aware of the effect she has on him.

She’s a natural at charming the family, effortlessly slipping into conversations, making even the older relatives laugh. He can’t help but admire the way she carries herself—so sure, so unbothered. So fucking beautiful.

And every now and then, their eyes meet across the table. Lingering. Silent.

Summer is hotter than usual.

Or maybe it’s just because Y/N lives right next door.

Sunghoon finds himself outside more often, mowing the lawn shirtless, lifting weights in the yard, knowing full well she’s sunbathing just a few feet away. Her tiny bikini leaves nothing to the imagination. He tries not to look, but he fails miserably.

What he doesn’t know is that she’s watching, too.

They exchange subtle glances, but never words. The tension simmers between them, neither acknowledging it nor acting on it. But it lingers—silent, electric, undeniable.

One evening, she catches him hunched over a car, shirtless. “You work too much,” she teases, leaning against the fence separating their yards.

Sunghoon wipes the sweat off his brow. “And you tan half-naked too much.”

She laughs. “Jealous?”

He smirks. “Just saying, you’ll burn one day.”

“Guess I’ll need someone to rub sunscreen on me.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t respond.

She tilts her head with a cheeky grin. “No volunteers?”

Fuck. She was dangerous.

Jake throws a frat party.

Sunghoon should’ve known it would be trouble.

The music is loud, the house is packed. He’s talking to Jay and Jungwon when he notices him. Heeseung. Leaning a little too close to Y/N, whispering something in her ear. She laughs.

Sunghoon sees red.

Storming over, he grabs her wrist, pulling her aside. “What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N yanks her arm free, narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Heeseung? Seriously? You know what he’s like.”

She crosses her arms. “And why do you care?”

“Because I—” He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sunghoon.”

That stings more than it should. He clenches his jaw, staring at her. Then, in a split second, he’s kissing her. Hard. Desperate. Possessive.

She kisses him back just as fiercely. Hands roaming. Clothes shifting. He picks her up and sets her on the counter.

"fuck," he looks down at her figure on the counter, raking his eyes down her body. "you're perfect"

Y/N grabs his face and pulls him in roughly for a kiss. Sunghoon's hands travel down her body and rip her tight shirt off. Y/N lets out a small gasp, watching as he grabs at her chest, leaving marks all over her neck and torso. His kisses slowly move down her stomach to the waistband of her miniskirt. He looks up to ask her for permission, but Y/N's already grabbing at both her skirt and panties.

"Please, Sunghoon, I need you so badly," she said between little gasps. Sunghoon leaves soothing kisses on her inner thighs. "Shh baby, let me take care of you"

He finally faced her bare cunt, his breath hitting her core. "You smell so sweet," he said before placing a kiss on her pussy, causing Y/N to let out a moan.

"God, Park that feels so good." she moans, throwing her head back as his tongue focuses on flicking her clit. Her hands move down to Sunghoon's scalp, pulling on his hair, causing him to let out a little moan into her pussy.

"I can't get enough of your pussy, I could stay down here forever" He mumbles in her cunt while inserting two fingers in her hole.

The continuous kitten licks and the pumps in and out of her pussy drive Y/N over the edge. She feels the knot forming in her stomach tighten as she arches her back into Sunghoon's mouth, letting out a lewd moan and riding out her high.

"Sunghoon, I need you inside me, right now." Y/N orders as she pulls him up for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. " As you wish, my princess," He says unbuckling his belt.

When his cock finally springs free, Y/N finds herself admiring the length and girth, grabbing it and jerking slowly. Sunghoon groans but lets her set the pace. When she glances up at him, eyes full of mischief, he decides he's had enough and turns her over on her stomach.

"God you drive me crazy," He whispers in her ear, leaving small kisses below her ear. "Tell me how much you want my cock baby," he said while teasing her hole.

"So much, please Sunghoon, please fuck me now." she sobs out in desperation, pushing her hips back to get an ounce of friction. His grip tightens, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts, his hips jerking forward roughly, both letting out wrecked moans in relief. His cock is sucked in her warm cunt as it kisses her cervix. She matches his rhythm and meets his hips, his cock going impossibly deep.

Sunghoons grip on her tightens like he's trying to ground himself through the pleasure, moaning her name like a mantra.

"Shit - fuck, I'm gonna-" Y/N's voice breaks as she nears that high again, body shuddering, moving her head to kiss Sunghoon. "c'mon baby, cum with me, let go." reaching a hand down to circle her clit, he keeps eye contact as they unravel together.

After, as they catch their breath, he presses his forehead against hers. “You’ve had my attention since the moment you stepped into that gym, I've been yours since then,” he murmurs. “Not just because of how beautiful you are. But because you’re kind. Fierce. Stubborn as hell.” He chuckles. “You drive me insane, Y/N.”

She smiles, fingers tracing his jaw. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, will you be mine as I am yours?” he asks, gazing into her eyes with a hopeful look.

"of course, I will dumbass, I would've been yours from the start if only you had said the word." She smiles at him cheekily, fingers brushing through his hair.

"Now that I've got my answer" he lifts her up, smirking, “let’s bring this to the bedroom.”

She laughs, kissing him again. “Lead the way, Park.”

Thank you for reading ♡

[lustlovehart]

Cease The Blaze

A/n: Takes place a little after “Scarlet In Black”.

Summary: [Yandere] Blade isn’t so sure anymore whether or not you are safe anymore, not even from yourself. It brings a question to his mind, should he try to save you? Or should he watch as you crumble by your own hand? He already knows the answer, and it’s definitely not the latter.

Warnings: Reader is wounded, Possessiveness on Blades part, Burning, Implied Imprisonment, Kinda angsty, Blade desperately wants to protect reader but doesn’t know how anymore

Blades eyes stare the deepest holes into your soul, his fingers wrapping the once pristine white bandages around your chest, his fingers grazing against bare skin, leaving a tingly feeling through your nerves.

"You really didn't have to do this Blade, I could've-" His fingers tighten significantly, though you don’t think he was trying to hurt you. “Gh..! I could’ve wrapped myself up…”

“No, you don’t need too. I’m doing it.” You don’t reply to him, only looking down at his hands as they worked, you didn’t dare to look into his eyes, they’d just serve as a further means to shrink down in embarrassment. When he finally finishes bandaging your wounds back up, he sits right next to you on the rock he made you rest on.

It was night where you were rested, the fire that laid in front of you burning a brilliant flame, it’s too bad you should never touch it.

“So, I thought you were in another solar system… Do you have some sort of third sense for me specifically?” Your eyes finally make contact with his own, smiling a little in hopes of lightening the tense mood with a joke.

Majority of the time he just looks at you, but there are a few instances where you can notice a tiny little quirk in his lips. You guess that isn’t one of those times though, with the way he replies in his usual straight face.

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“So you’re admitting to just magically knowing when i’m in danger?”

He lets out a firm ‘mm’ sound to the question. You assume he’s only agreeing to stop you from asking anymore, but even then it makes you laugh a tiny bit.

“Don’t know whether or should be creeped out or thankful? Kinda comforting knowing i’ll have you come rescue me whenever I need it.” For a moment you notice Blades eyebrows furrow, the moment once more going back to a stifling aura.

In his own mind, he finally thought about it, he had been too preoccupied with the feeling left in his chest to notice it himself, what happens when he can’t come to your aide? What if someone else caused harm to you and he couldn’t stop it. No, perhaps even worse, what if you cause your own demise?

After he had finally found something in his eternal damnation he enjoyed, is he really willing to let it go that easily?

“Not always. Don’t be so naive with your thinking. I’m not an aeon who will be the back of a chair you can easily lean on. What happens to you when you lay back and there is nothing to keep you from falling?”

“Wha…? What are you talking about…?”

“You fall [Name]. You fall and get hurt.”

You’re not too sure on how to reply to him, so you go back to gazing at the sparks of the blaze. A few minutes pass by, no maybe not even a few, half an hour had went on, neither of you speaking a word.

The inferno dimmed slightly, yet the fire felt even hotter than it did before. Your palms reach out without even thinking, finally feeling the burn before Blade bandaged had firmly grabbed onto your wrist.

“Do not touch that.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

The two of you don’t say anything else, your eyes only making contact with the inferno again. It was no longer as pretty as it once was, in fact, all it did was burn your eyes. Not Blades though, he wasn’t looking at the fire, he was only looking at you. Hesitantly, his hand grabs onto your shoulder pulling you in. His movements were stiff, yet you let him.

“I don’t want you to suffer.”

“What? Like-” you only stop yourself before talking more. ‘Like you?’ It was messed up, but you were starting to get sick of the vagueness in his words.

“Last time I saw you, you were covered in blood, not even a speck of your regular clothes could be seen. You shouldn’t worry about me being the one who’s ‘suffering’.”

“It’s blurred together, everything. The only thing that isn’t fogged by scarlet in my memories is my past.”

“Why don’t you revisit that past then?”

“That it is no longer there for me to revisit.”

Hot. The fire is burning you again. You blink a couple of times looking back at the man, no, the weapon perhaps?

“I have something else in front of me that isn’t tattered in bloodshed, I’m not willing to loose that.” He pulls out a red ribbon from his side, taking care in wrapping it around your wrist, the color reminds you off his eyes, and it smelled faintly of strawberries. When he finishes it up, he had shaped it into a tiny bow on your wrist, it’s kinda cute.

“What did you mean by ‘not willing to loose that?’ By the way? Is it another one of your cryptic sayings?”

“No. I mean it truly this time.”

For once in the moment, he doesn’t look at you, while all you did was look at him, confusion littered around you face.

After than neither of you spoke a word, until you dozed off, the last thing in your vision being the way the fire had went out, as if it had never been there, the only remains of it being the ashes it left in its wake. Blades calloused hands were still on your body, like before, he feared if he let go for even a moment you would be gone too.

Carefully he lifts you up, carrying you through the plain of nature that had surrounded you. In moments like this, he would always return you to the comfort of your bed, never leaving a trace of him behind for you to find.

“So Bladie, are you finally gonna bring them along with us? It has been a thought of yours for awhile has it not?” Her voice was undoubtedly the most recognizable thing about her, that and her blank eyes that always seemed to hold no fear. “The night I was waiting for you two, I expected you to bring them along right then. Why now hmmm?”

“They’re not safe. That won’t work.”

“I thought it would be their choice whether or not that was okay.”

“No. I want them to stay. If it means keeping them away from themself even, i’ll do it.”

His footsteps clank against the steel floor of the Stellaron Hunters ship, Kafka following close behind.

“Is that enough for you Bladie?” Her tone is of the usual, a bit condescending and playful, yet it makes him pause, if even for just a brief moment.

“If it means even a minutes escape from my suffrage.” She smiles at him, closing her eyes as they continue strolling through.

She knows what he said isn’t true. It won’t take long before his greed for you takes over, craving for more of your warmth as he starves for whatever you can give him. Maybe if he had taken you sooner it wouldn’t hurt so bad to watch you reach for home in front of him.

When you wake all you’ll remember is the way the fire had felt, the final feeling of the outside you can ever feel for yourself. In your last moments, you wished you had touched that flame, even if it meant being burnt.

———

Gonna be completely honest, I actually don’t enjoy the way this came out, but i wanted to highlight the softer side Blade has for Reader? While also showing how much he wants to keep them in his life. It definitely could’ve been better, but if it’s that bad, i’ll just rewrite it another time.

[szarina]

Hello! I hope you are doing well ^^ Can I request for Sanzu Haruchiyo with a chubby reader where reader wants to try Ab riding but is too shy to tell him about this.

COME ALONG FOR A RIDE

SANZU HARUCHIYO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── slight body insecurities, bonten sanzu, drugs, guns, smut, abs riding.

notes. i'm sorry it took a long for me to finish this. hope you like it. thank you!

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ you've been thinking about it a lot but never brought it up afraid of what he may think but sanzu is more than pleased to give what you desire.

“i can't give what you need pretty girl if you won't speak.” the scars in the corner of his lips animatedly move as it turned to one of his signature smirk.

his coat hanging into one of the expensive chairs. leaving him only in his usual formal suit. pale violet vest with matching slacks. his thumb and forefinger grasping your jaw to meet his green eyes gleaming with joy although a crazed one to be exact. his long lashes flattering in a elegant manner.

you sat in the bed, embarrassed. desire pooling between your legs as you rubbed your thick thighs together. the tight fitting dress hugging your plush body and considering how tighter it was than the usual and shorter. your little ministrations making the dress ride up exposing more of your skin to be considered immodest as what others may say but sanzu loves it.

after meetings with his executives followed by cleaning out the traitors of bonten, he sure deserves a reward. something to ease and relax him other than what his pills can do. his pretty baby waiting for him all dolled up for him to ruin.

tonight, he knows something is going on with that pretty head of yours. stealing glances from him time to time and the way your throat move from swallowing. he knows about you every minute more than you could ever know. doesn't mean he's not around he doesn't know anything what's going on with you.

you avert your gaze at him. you can't even make the words without looking at him. you want him so bad.

“speak up, doll.” he firmly orders to you and the words forced its way from your mouth.

“c—can i ride your abs for tonight?” you stutter. swallowing thickly and you look at him, afraid. your face felt hot and the tears making it's appearance in your eyelids. you should have never asked.

his grin grew wider from hearing your request. grasping your jaw tighter to look at him fully. his eyes gleams like a maniac, one you've seen often when he's killing traitors or those who dared to get closer to you.

“should've told me sooner, pretty girl.” his scars appearing wider than it already is from smiling.

even with the cool breeze coming from outside in one of the highest floor of the expensive hotel with the overview of city lights. you can't quell the desire growing stronger and hotter. naked in the bed, straddled in sanzu's hard abs. he lays there amused. his pink-colored hair splayed in the soft pillow, a huge grin plastered on his face while he watched you grind on his abs.

“h-haru...” you moaned out. your palms pressed in his chest. back arched while your hips back and forth to get that delicious friction. your clit throbbing every time it brushes with his firm muscles. the smooth skin of his abs adding stimulation that your thighs shakes from every movement.

“that's it, pretty. show me what you can do while you ride me, 'kay? make yourself cum and i'll reward you.” he praises and still have he smirk in his face doesn't disappear while you rode him. your slick drips and trails from the lines of his abs and if it wasn't filthy and hot he doesn't know what is.

your breasts squished between your arms and your tummy folds while it jiggles from the movement of your hips and your breathy moans occupying the space of the room. you face sweaty with a timid look coming from you. all the hard work and the troubles he dealt today disappearing slowly while you used him for pleasure. careful now, he thinks he might get addicted to this but he didn't care about it.

“you cumming for me, baby? s—shit, do it for me baby.” he rasps out, chuckling at your shaky form.

he buries the heel of his feet in the soft duvet. arching his back slightly for you to get the stimulation you needed as you get nearer from your edge. your hips grinding harder and your body jolts. your aching clit hitting the firm muscle. instinctively cupping your breast and rolling your hardened bud to prolong the delicious feeling that spread throughout your body.

“'m going to cum now, haru” you warned him. your hips rutting desperately and faster to his rock hard abs. “that's a good girl, cum for me now, pretty.”

and with a whine, grinding harder making your clit hit that same spot all over again you came in his abs. the clear, sticky liquid of your cum spreads messily to his stomach. you pant, recovering from the high and the strands of your hair sticks to your face.

you look at the man who granted you in indulging your desires for tonight. he looks contented, happy even and you're more than ready to please him whatever he wants for tonight.

“think you can ride me again, pretty?” you nod at his words in which he replied with a smirk. “this time in my cock.”

[moonsaver]

Good day moon! Okay I normally don't do asks when it comes to yandere cause it's not my usual thing but seeing the last post you made of Yan!Sunday and his darling, that one where he just desperately wants to have that normalcy in their relationship but couldn't ever have it because of what he's done, made me think of something rather angsty; like how the darling's backlashes against his affections would probably go turn for the worst as time passes on, they don't hate him in a sense because he's really trying hard to not make them hate him and they can see that his love is real (just really fucked up) but that deep urge to hurt the person who took their freedom away is still there, it wouldn't just go away just because he loves them so much that he wouldn't dare to break them. Oh that satisfaction on seeing Sunday looking so hurt after yelling at him, they know it doesn't make them any better than him but at that point, what else is there for them to lose? Maybe in hurting him so subtly, they may find some pity in themselves for him to actually give him some semblance of love but until then, all Sunday ever receives from them are either silent treatment or backlash

Such relationship could only thrive in the worst way possible and maybe Sunday knows that but even then, he still holds out that little (delusional) hope that maybe his darling will still love him someday

Sorry for the rant, it's just that I feel for Sunday but his method will never work and it'll just deeply hurt him and his darling in the end asgfjgsfg also if it's alright, I'd request this but I'll leave it to you with how you write it, be it an imagine or anything else since I'm fine with it!

- Elys

Hello Elys! Im so sorry it took a long time for me to get to your request lol, tons of things got in the way but I remembered this request for a while.

In any case, I feel you've summed it up quite well!

Sunday isn't harsh or as brutal as I imagine him. Unlike my [i have to self advertise here, sorry HAHA] soft yan!blade, Sunday most likely wouldn't even need a bit of working around to be a softer yandere.

He's so loving, it's painful. His love is like despaired poetry for a lover who is still alive, just further than their reach. I imagine his love to be very tender, even as a yandere, if he doesn't become even softer.

And it's hard to convince him he's wrong – mainly because he already knows. But rather that's a bit distorted in his view; instead he thinks it's a wrongdoing against your nature as someone who wants to be free, but correct in the context of the situation rather than actually understanding it is absolutely wrong in general. And he doesn't budge. He's stubborn, almost infuriatingly. And instead of getting angry, I imagine he rather looks disappointed or disgruntled, which somehow does more damage/strikes more fear than anger.

And it's still heartbreaking; frustratingly for both of you, not just yourself.

You lash out, you scream, cry, wail, argue, relentlessly push and resist against him. it's your only way of getting back at him, you're sure as hell you're going to strike the hardest that way. And you relish the hurt you see in the eyes of your captor, but something more sympathetic tugs at you when you see his lovingly sad eyes. It's this cacophony of guilt, frustration, anger, and utter despair at the loss of your freedom. Sunday feels all of it, aswell, and you want to be relieved that he does – if it weren't for the fact he still wasn't letting you go.

He continually withholds your freedom from you. That single injustice to you is enough to weather your patience over time – your anger only burns hotter and hotter, pushing away any semblance of sympathy or reasoning, and it only hurts Sunday more, until you realise what you're doing, and quietly give in to sooth him for the time being. Just a little. Until that little injustice starts bothering you again. It's a toxic cycle.

And it hurts even more when Sunday tries to find normalcy in your relationship; he's trying so hard to be your lover, to hold you gently and bathe you with care, to dry you off and still love you after seeing you bare. He wants to come home and see you smile, be happy, elated that he's there, just as he feels when he sees you. But that's not what happens. His delusions and flimsy expectations are shattered the moment he steps into the dimly lit room, your form refusing to even look at him. The silence is strangely stronger than his hopes.

Anyways, that's all i can think of at the moment. I love angst yandere sunday time.

[doveentrails]

More NSFW headcannons for Art the Clown

just some more smutty, smutty thoughts about Art...💕 link to part one

You should have figured it out sooner, but Art loves it when you wear something just for him. He loves to feel like he's getting special treatment, and dressing up for him is one of your favorite ways to do that. He really takes his time undressing you when you wear lingerie - a process he often rushes through. He likes to kiss you and touch you through the fabric, seeing how wet he can get your panties. He likes to run a knife blade under the straps, teasing you, though he'd never dare to ruin his favorite sets of yours. If you want foreplay to be twice as long, just put on your red lacy lingerie, and you'll have Art in the palm of your hand.🖤🔪

Art likes to feel pretty too sometimes. We know he has fun dressing up, and he likes to wear things that you like. Anything to get him a little extra attention from you. Whatever gets you hot, Art will put it on for you and have fun doing it.🖤🔪

He marks his territory with bite marks, big time. Think all over your neck, thighs, hips, and ass. Everywhere. You rarely make it through intimate time with Art without the marks to prove it.🖤🔪

He loves to eat pussy, so of course he loves to have you sit on his face, like duh. It's a great ride too.🖤🔪

Dirty talk drives Art crazy. He may not say much, but he sure likes it when you do. You come up with the most depraved shit to say to him while you're fucking to really drive him wild. Of course you always compliment his weapons suggestively ("Wow, it's so big" , "Would hate for you to finish me off with that"...). Art loves it when you say his name. Get close in his ear and tell him what you want him to do to you, and he'll absolutely melt. Of course you'll pay the consequences of winding him up like that, but you love to taunt him and egg him on. He eats it up, the further you push it, the hotter he gets for you. You can tell by the look in his eyes, and the way his movements become so focused on bringing you pleasure. Soon, he'll have you in a state where you'll be tripping over your words, unable to form a coherent thought. 🖤🔪

Art has been known to bend you over and give you one hell of a paddling. Spanking your ass is equal parts sadistic and erotic for him, and you've come to love it too. He used to dish out way more than you could take, but your pain tolerance has gotten much higher in the time you've been together. Art doesn't mind when you hit him back either. 🖤🔪

Does he make you get on your knees and suck the barrel of a gun? Yes. Is it loaded? Sometimes. Does it get you off? Absolutely. 🖤🔪

Art will get it on pretty much anywhere if he's feeling it, including in front of his victims. When he's feeling particularly depraved, you'll find yourself tied up alongside the poor souls he's decided to torture and kill. The first time Art did this, you were certain he was going to kill you too and you sobbed for your life. Really, he just wanted to show you off. Your relief was immeasurable once you realized you were only there to be a set piece for him, a perfect fuck toy. Now you play your part enthusiastically and everything goes much more smoothly. You try not to look his victims in the eyes, though sometimes Art makes you, coercing you with whatever weapon he's about to use on them. Usually though, Art let's you off surprisingly easy, not making you stick around for the torture bit. He just wants you to sit pretty for him while he does whatever he pleases to you in front of his captive audience.🖤🔪

He likes shower sex too. If you're going to force him to get clean, you'd better keep him entertained while you're at it.🖤🔪

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

7.) The Feeling is… Right

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

It had been a couple of days since you had kissed Noa at the waterfall at night. You couldn’t help but regret the decision. You feel as if you have crossed a line. And now you don’t know where it left the two of you.

You walk the trail to the waterfall with sweaty hands. Twisting the worn strap of your bag with each step. What if he’s not there? What if you never see him again? You probably scared him off with the kiss.

Noa was sitting on a nearby large rock by the waterfall when you arrived.

He was deep in thought, his mind distracted. He was still thinking about the kiss from a few days ago. Noa had mixed feelings. On one hand, he was intrigued by it but on the other he was confused. As he was lost in thought, he suddenly noticed you approaching. He tried to stay calm but his heart began to beat a little faster.

You smiled at him softly. Sober and sharp now, you regret your drunken behavior sensing how thick the air was now. “Hi.”

Noa smiled back, his heart still beating a little bit faster. He noticed that you seemed more serious than usual. Noa patted the spot next to him on the large rock, signaling you to sit with him.

You sit silently, nervously staring down at the rushing water. Your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

Noa could sense that something was off about your behavior. You weren't acting like your normal self. Something was weighing on your mind and he was curious to find out what it was.

Noa looked at you with concern in his eyes, but before he had a chance to speak, you spoke first.

"Why haven't you said anything about what happened the other night?" Noa's heart skipped a beat. He knew exactly what you were referring to. Noa didn’t know what to say. He smiled at the memory. He wanted to do it again. But he didn’t know the appropriate time to really how to accomplish such an intimate act.

Noa looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a small pebble on the ground. He didn't quite know how to answer your question. He didn't know how to put his thoughts into words.

"I do not know," he said softly, still looking down at the pebble. "But I can tell it is… upsetting you. You have been acting differently." He looked up and met your gaze, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of uncertainty.

You don’t dare look at him. You may break if you do from rejection. “I… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You say quickly. “We can forget it, Noa. Like it never-“ Noa interrupted, “No.” he grabs your hand in his large one. “I… liked it.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Noa interrupted you and grabbed your hand. You could feel the warmth of his touch and it sent a shiver down your spine. “You did?" you asked, finally looking up and meeting his gaze.

Noa held your hand tighter, his heart beating faster. "Yes," he said firmly, making sure you knew how serious he was. "I liked it... a lot."

Noa leaned in inches away from you now, looking intently into your eyes. The desire to kiss you again was overwhelming for him, and you couldn't deny that you wanted it just as badly.

"Please," he whispered, his breaths soft against your skin, "do it again."

Heat builds on your face, fire engulfs your body, and Noa can feel it. The fire between the two of you grows even hotter, and he can't get enough of it. He reaches up and tenderly cups your face in his hand, gently pulling you closer to him.

As your lips softly brush together, Noa can't help but feel a rush of emotion. He deepens the kiss, the fire between them becoming even more intense. His hand still cupping your face, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your jawline as he continues the kiss, wanting more.

The kiss grows even more passionate, Noa's desire for you consuming him. He felt his feelings for you growing stronger with each passing moment. Noa pulled you closer, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, needing to feel you even closer. His heartbeat quickened as their bodies pressed against each other.

As you pull away to catch your breath, he gazes at you with a mixture of desire and intensity in his eyes. He can see the emotions on your face, but he can't quite read them. You're breathing heavily, and your eyes are hooded, making him wonder what's going through your mind.

“What is… this?” Noa asks, confused about the action. You rest your foreheads together. “It’s called a kiss. I think we’re doing it right.” You laugh at your words. Unsure of actions.

Noa smiles at your words, feeling some of the tension in his body ease as you laugh. He's still a bit bewildered by the situation, but your laughter helps to soothe his worries.

He leans in again, gently resting his forehead against yours. He takes a deep breath, letting the moment sink in and savoring the feeling of being close to you.

"I... I don't understand… this," he says honestly, his voice strained. "But I do know that... I like it. I like being with you. I like.. us together.” Noa's sincerity washes over you, making your heart flutter. You can hear the genuine emotion in his voice as he struggles to explain his feelings.

"I just know that it feels... right."

Noa glanced over at Sun Eagle, noticing the bird perched nearby. He had heard the stories too. Eagles have the ability to find your mate for you, and he couldn't help but feel like the bird was watching him and you with a sense of approval. He looked back at you, feeling more certain of his feelings. He wanted to be with you, to be your mate, to be together forever.

Noa speaks, unsure of his words. “I would like you to come… meet the Eagle clan.” Your eyes widen in surprise at Noa's words. He wants you to meet the Eagle Clan?

"You... you want me to meet the Eagle Clan?" you ask, unable to hide the shock and excitement in your voice. The gravity of the situation hit you. This was a huge step. Not only were you about to meet the Eagle Clan, but you'd be walking there side by side with Noa. In front of other apes. Challenging their ways.

Noa picked up on your nervous excitement and smiled warmly at you. "Don't worry," he said, his voice soft and comforting. "I'll be there with you…We will face it together… like everything from now on."

Doubts crept in, “I’m human, Noa. What if…” your mind starts creating awful situations. Your village was used to you. You’d be there for years. But entering a clan that only had bad interactions with humans was questionable. Noa could sense your doubts and fears rising to the surface. He had his own. He knew that the Eagle Clan had a troubled past with humans and he couldn't blame you for being worried.

He put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, trying to calm your worries. "Eagle Clan's history with echos is difficult. But they will see that you are different. That you are good and kind. That you mean a lot to me."

Noa's decision to start small and introduce you to Anaya and Soona first was a smart move. He knew his friends would be understanding and supportive, and they would help bridge the gap between you and the Eagle Clan.

As the sun began to place itself high in the sky, Noa placed a gentle hand on your waist and gave you a reassuring smile.

"Tomorrow… I will introduce you to Anaya and Soona," he said, his voice filled with excitement and a hint of nervousness. "They will like you."

You tease, “Not as much as you I hope.” Noa chuckled at your playful remark, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He couldn't help but tease you back.

"You're right," he said, pulling you closer to him. "Not like you as much… as I do."

Noa smiled softly as he pulled away, his heart racing from the kiss.

He was reluctant to separate from you, but he knew it was just for a few hours. He would see you again in the morning. "I will see you tomorrow," he said softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

Noa found Anaya and Soona sitting near their huts, chatting amongst themselves. He walked over to them, a big smile on his face, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Anaya! Soona!" he called out as he approached. "I need to talk to you!" Anaya and Soona looked up at Noa as he approached, noticing the excitement in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes. "What is it, Noa?" Anaya asked curiously, a slight smile playing on his face.

Noa places his hands on his friend’s shoulders the bright smile unwavering. “Sunrise. Come with me to the falls. I have someone for you to meet.” Anaya and Soona exchanged a quick, curious glance, puzzled by Noa's cryptic message.

"Someone we need to meet?" Soona asked, her voice filled with curiosity. "Who is it?" Noa looks at her with a smile, speaking your name, “She’s… special to me.” He says softly.

Anaya and Soona's eyes widened at Noa's words. They could see the way his face lit up at the mention of your name. Clearly, you were someone important to him.

Anaya smirked at him, a knowing smile. "Special to you, huh?" she teased, nudging Noa playfully. Soona smiles widely. “This is where you have been sneaking off to? For months?”

Noa rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling a bit embarrassed. She hoots adding, “We had a feeling you were up to something, Noa. You were acting suspiciously."

Noa can’t help the smile. “You will like her… just be… open-minded… for me.” Soona's curiosity increased even more as Noa asked them to be open-minded. Anaya, sensing the weight of Noa's words, spoke up next. "We will be, Noa. We trust you," he reassured him.

Noa couldn't deny the uncertainty surrounding your species. The fact that you were human would be a challenge for the Eagle Clan to accept.

He knew that introducing you to them would be a huge risk, but his feelings for you were strong, and he was willing to take that risk.

As you return to the village, you have Noa's scent lingering on your skin. It's a strange but comforting feeling, to have his scent with you when if he could not be. You can't help but smile to yourself, feeling a sense of happiness and excitement about what's to come tomorrow.

“Hey, Lou.” You pass Loui and he immediately turns his head to you. “What’s that smell?” You stop in your tracks as Loui turns to you. You try to play it cool, "What smell?" you ask, a small smile forming on your lips.

Loui takes a strand of your hair and sniffs it, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar scent.

He looks at you with a puzzled expression, "This smell... it's not from the village.” Loui looks into your eyes, “who were you with?”

You scoff and turn to walk away, “you’re delusional, Loui.” Loui grabs your wrist gently, preventing you from walking away. He looks at you with a mix of concern and irritation.

"I'm not delusional, I can smell it on you!” he exclaims. “Who were you with?” he repeats, his voice growing a bit stern.

Keli runs over in defense, “She was alone, Loui!” Loui turns to look at Keli, annoyance clear on his face. "I know what I smell… someone not from village.”

Keli steps closer to you, clearly trying to defend you. "I saw her… She was alone," she insists, her voice firm.

Mother approaches the group, noticing the tension in the air and the concern on everyone's faces. “Something wrong, children?”

Loui turns to her, his gaze shifting from you to her. "I don't know, Mother," he says with a hint of frustration. "I can smell other ape's scent on her… it is not from the village."

Mother's concern deepens as she turns to look at you. "Is this true?" she asks gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. You look away, feeling targeted. “It’s… I just ran into some apes as they were passing through.”

Mother looks at you with a mixture of concern and doubt. She can sense that you're not telling her the whole truth.

"Passing through?" she repeats, her voice filled with skepticism. "Which apes? From which clan?" “Does it matter? It wasn’t our land. It was across the river.” Loui’s eyes narrow slightly at your answer, still sensing that you're withholding. “I chased an ape across the river. Riding on horseback.”

You brush it off, “so?” Loui's irritation flares up at your nonchalant response. "These apes could be dangerous. We don't know if they're hostile. You could get hurt! Apes and human do not exist outside of our village. they would not understand.”

You roll your eyes at him, muttering under your breath. “Some apes understand just fine.” Loui catches the muttered remark and his irritation grows. "What was that?" he demands, taking a step closer to you. “Nothing.” Loui doesn't believe you, but before he can say anything else, Mother interrupts.

"That's enough, both of you," she says firmly, her voice authoritative. "Loui, I understand your concern, but you need to trust her to handle herself."

Loui storms off, still frustrated and suspicious. Keli rolls her eyes and follows after Loui. Mother turns to you, a mix of concern and understanding in her eyes.

"Are you sure you are okay?" she asks softly. You avoid her gaze. “Yes. I’m great.” Mother's eyes search yours, trying to gauge your emotions. She can tell that there's more going on than you're letting on.

But she also knows you well enough to know that you'll tell her when you're ready. So, she gently places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze.

Over the past few months, Mother has noticed a change in you. She could see the happiness in your face, the spring in your step. It was different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

But she loved seeing you so happy, so she let it be. She didn't want to pry too much or disturb the peace and joy you seemed to have found.

You lean into her motherly touch. “Would you brush my hair?” You ask. A simple pastime from your younger years. Immediately, a wave of nostalgia washes over Mother. She remembers all the times when you were younger, sitting between her legs as she ran the brush through your hair. Those happy memories bring a soft smile to her face.

"Of course, dear," she replies, her voice gentle and motherly. "Come."

Mother runs the brush through your hair, her touch firm yet gentle. The smell of the rose water, mixed with the fire's low glow, creates a soothing and comforting atmosphere. You couldn’t help but feel the need to speak of Noa. If he was open to introducing you, then it was only fair to do the same.

“Mother?”

"Yes, darling?" she replies, continuing to brush your hair. The gentle sound of the brush passing through your locks fills the room.

“Remember when I asked you about love?” Mother smiles at your question, recalling that moment from the past. "Of course I do," she replies, her voice warm. Mother's words echo in your mind, describing the feeling of being loved. Her description of love matches perfectly with the way you feel around Noa.

“I have found someone.” Your eyes drift to your aged novel. The heated emotions flush your cheeks. Noa made you question everything, but with Noa, you were so willing to dive into the unknown.

Mother's smile widens, and a hint of curiosity sparks in her eyes. She can see your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes drift to your novel. She can see that you're deeply affected by your feelings for Noa.

"You have?” She asks, stopping the brush. A beat of silence before she speaks, “Ape, or Human?” That question stills you. You didn’t know what the right answer would be. “Ape.” You say softly.

Mother smiles, she hums softly, her brush continuing to run through your hair. “Tell me about him.”

You smile at the glowing fire. “He’s unlike any other ape I’ve met.” Mother listens intently as you speak about Noa, her smile growing as she hears the love shine through your words.

“He must be quite special then." “He is. Brave.” You recount his tale of freeing his clan from Proximus. “He’s a leader.” You say quietly. Loui would not be pleased to know you had fallen for an ape, no less a clan leader.

Mother's eyebrows raise slightly at your words. A leader? That was certainly unusual, considering your species. "A leader? What clan?” She muses, the brush still gliding through your hair.

“The Eagle Clan.”

Mother's eyes widen in surprise, her brush faltering for a moment. "The Eagle Clan..." she repeats, the brush resuming its movement. “That’s... quite a powerful clan."

You turn to her, “You know of them?” Mother nods, her expression becoming more serious. "Yes, I do. My mother was from Eagle Clan.” She continues to brush your hair slowly, her mind working as she processes this new information.

With this new information, everything seems even more connected. You and Noa’s love story appears more and more intertwined. Mother continues to brush your hair, her thoughtful silence speaking volumes.

“Why did she leave?” Mother's expression softens a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"She found her mate… my father," she replies quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes, life doesn't go as planned...". She continues to brush your hair, her thoughts lost in the past. The faint flicker of the fire casts dancing shadows on the walls, creating a soothing ambiance.

You watch the flames dance, the warm light illuminating your face. The feeling of hope and possibility fills your chest as you consider everything. But deep down, despite the connection, you can't deny the truth...you're human. And that reality casts a shadow of uncertainty over your newfound love.

“Does he… love you?” Your mother asks. You turn to look at your mother, her question striking a deep chord within you.

"I... I think he does," you say softly, a mixture of hope and doubt clouding your mind. "I can feel it in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me... But I can't shake the feeling that being human might ruin everything."

She hums, knowing how hard it was here to integrate you into their village even as a child. “If it is meant to be… it will be.” She reminds you as she did when you were a child. “Different on the outside… but same in here.” She points to your heart. Despite the differences on the outside, you and Noa were alike on the inside.

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 7/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! - tiny bit of smut, Language,

Word Count: 1856

A/N: This is part 6 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Ben rolled his eyes in annoyance and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't understand why you were always so curious and always had to know everything.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?”, he grumbled, letting his arms fall to his thighs and looking over at you. “At least not completely. You're not a Supe, that's for sure. However, I can't fucking tell you why you still have my V inside you. I know that I can turn others into Supes if I inject them enough of my blood. Depending on their DNA, they survive and become a Supe or, well, they fucking die. Until yesterday there was no in-between. And the cape-wearing pussy knows that too. I don't know if it's you, me, or both of us", Ben admitted in a relatively calm voice.

As he watched you, try to make sense of the whole thing, his thoughts began to drift too.

“But if I still have Compound V in me, then it must have an effect, right? It can’t flow through my veins without triggering something”, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you licked your lips thoughtfully.

Ben sighed, sliding further onto the bed and leaning his back against the headboard of his bed as he searched for a suitable answer for you.

“Do you feel different? Because you still smell the same. Supes have their own smell that comes from the V. Lightly mint and vanilla. Your heartbeat also stayed the same. Still much slower than mine”, with his arms crossed, he let his gaze wander from your face, down your body, to your chest, where he focused on your blood circulation.

“Not really”, you mumbled. “I feel the same as last week". Your gaze fell on your wrists and your veins there, which were a little bluer than usual under your skin.

“Then nothing happened. For whatever reason, I healed you without turning you into a supe. The V will definitely be gone from your body soon”. His eyes met yours again, causing a tightening feeling in your abdomen. Even though you couldn't tell why, your body reacted intense to the way he was looking at you. Suddenly the air became thicker, hotter. Your head became heavy, leaving only room for one thought: him. It took all of your self-control not to throw yourself at him, to press your lips to his and to press yourself against him so tightly that not even a piece of paper would fit between you. But where did this sudden strong attraction come from? Three days ago you had made a scene at him for daring to kiss you, and now his plum lips were taking over your thoughts. You imagined how they would feel on your skin. What he could do with them.

Breathing slightly heavily, you reflexively pressed your legs together and inhaled sharply as Ben continued to look at you with a smirk on his lips.

"I… don't know… Somehow I still have the feeling that… something is different", you murmur, barely audible.

Of course Ben didn't miss your tension. He knew he couldn't start a relationship with you, that you would never want something like that with him, but if you were sitting on his bed so willing and horny, obviously completely absorbed in his presence, he should at least try to fuck you again.

Once. Just once he wanted to know how you felt. Even if he could just take a quick little slip inside you, it would certainly be better than anything he had ever felt before.

His eyes darkened as he clenched his hands into fists, so tight that his veins stood out even more than usual. A sign of his hopeless attempt to hold on to himself. Not to attack you and scare you off again.

Your eyes darted to his hands, which were resting tensely on his thigh. Ben's breathing became heavier. So much heavier that you could hear it, even with your human hearing.

"C´mere. I’ll see if I can feel anything”, he murmured in a deep voice, waving you over. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Ben until your bent leg touched his on the mattress.

While he grabbed your wrist with one hand, his other hand slowly moved down your upper arm to your wrist where it stopped.

Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t like being so close to you. To feel your warm and soft skin under his rough fingers. Feel the heat you radiated. To hear your nervous, uneven breathing. To smell your… excitement.

His index and middle fingers pressed firmly against your wrist and he focused on the way your blood flowed beneath his fingers. Seconds passed before, without warning, he placed his heavy, large hand on your left breast. His finger touched your nipple, sending heat to your stomach and a blush to your cheeks. This unintentional little touch didn't go unnoticed by Ben, before his hand slid a little higher and rested directly over your heart.

Your heart was pounding like crazy against his huge palm. Ben's eyes were closed so he could concentrate better. He was so much better at it than all the other Supes. He could hear, smell, and feel things that Annie or Butcher wouldn't even begin to notice.

“It would be a lot easier if you would fucking relax”, Ben grumbled, putting a little more pressure on your chest, making you inhale sharply. Of course he knew what was going on with you, but refraining from a little teasing just wasn't in his nature.

“You’re fucking fine”, he removed his hand after a few seconds, opening his eyes and looking at you with an amused look. "All organs are fine, no injuries or abnormalities, well except the V of course and… tell me, dollface", he lifted your chin and narrowed his eyes slightly.

“How can you be so fucking horny and still say no to me?”.

Your breath hitched for a brief moment before you cleared your throat nervously. "I… I'm not".

Eyebrows raised, he leaned against the headboard of his bed and let his gaze wander over your body. “For real (Y/N)? You're so fucking wet, you're dripping”. His voice was at least an octave lower. As quick-witted as you normally were, his boldness caught you by surpriss. “Obviously not because of you”, you hissed slightly hysterically and wanted to get up, but Ben grabbed your forearm.

"Not?", he raised an eyebrow and quickly pulled you onto his lap with a strong tug, that your knees rested on the mattress on either side of his thighs. With his face only inches away, you could feel his hot breath on your lips. A scent of tobacco and vanilla enveloped you, shutting down the rational part of your brain. Ben's bright green eyes locked onto yours, leaving not even a hint of room to look anywhere else. Your heart was about to explode. Again.

“No, not at all”, you breathed, barely louder than a whisper against his lips.

You stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, drowning in each other's presence. But before Ben could even start anything, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips firmly to his.

As your lips met, Ben could feel the softness of your mouth against his own, a sensation that sent a rush of warmth through his entire body. Your breath mingled, creating a delicate dance of shared air between you. He gently parted his lips, inviting you to deepen the kiss, and felt a surge of excitement as you responded in kind. Your hands moved to cradle Ben's face, their touch both tender and electrifying. Your fingers traced the contours of his jawline, sending shivers down his spine, before tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Ben's heart pounded in his chest, as much as yours, the rhythm echoing in his ears as if it were the only sound in the world. Meanwhile, you were lost in a whirlwind of sensation. The warmth of Ben's lips against yours ignited a fire within, spreading through your veins like wildfire. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent sparks flying. Time seemed to stand still as the two of you kissed, your surroundings fading into obscurity as you both became lost in each other. It was as if the universe had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure bliss. Every touch, every caress spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never express.

There was a tenderness in Bens touch that caught you off guard. In that moment of intimacy, you realized just how gentle Ben could be, a side of him that you never have experienced this strong. You had always known Ben as someone who exuded strength and confidence, but now, as you felt the softness of his kiss, you saw a vulnerability in him that you never had imagined. His touch was gentle yet passionate, a delicate balance that spoke volumes. It was as if Ben had unlocked a side of himself that he had kept hidden away, reserved only for someone who truly understood him. And as you melted more and more into his embrace, you couldn't help but marvel at the depth of emotion that flowed between you two.

After a few minutes you could feel Ben's kisses becoming more and more passionate and, above all, more demanding. As he pulled you closer to him with a tight, almost painful grip, you could feel his erection under the thin material of your pants. He pressed rock hard against your wet and hot pussy, you clenched around nothing. You were so damn aroused but as Ben's heavy hands, slowly moving under your shirt and down your back, you got pulled you out of your shared bubble. “B…Ben”, you murmured into his mouth, only receiving a “Mmmm”, muffled by your lips. Your breathing became heavier, signaling Ben that you needed some air, which made him move his lips down your jawline. Between the ecstasy and the nervousness, it was hard for you to think clearly. “Ben… please… I… don’t”, you whispered over and over again between breaths.

And when Ben pulled away, he looked into your eyes that were almost full of fear. "What?", he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Just as Ben was about to close the mere inch gap between your lips, you grabbed his wrist by your hip and pulled it away. “I… should go”, you whispered, more to yourself than to him. Your voice shook with emotion as you slid off his lap and out of bed quicker than planned.

"Oh come on!", Ben rolled his eyes and raised both arms. Clearly annoyed.

With bright red cheeks, you half turned to him and looked at him apologetically. "It was… stupid of me. I'm sorry", you mumbled before leaving him alone.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 8

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy @jackles010378

[nethhiri]

Chapter 68: Hog Wild

Warnings: Sex

I wish this dude would leave me alone. I glanced in his direction ONCE and he's been following me for days, hiding behind trees. He thinks he's so slick about it, too. Little does he know he stinks so fucking bad I can tell where he is. Not to mention his huge body was hard to hide as it was. Pathetic. Sometimes I find things left for me, small gifts. I know it's him. I haven't touched a single one. How dare he think he can win me over with cowardly advances. I'm just going to keep ignoring him and maybe he'll take the hint.

But he didn't. The massive jackass just kept hanging around, leaving progressively more impressive gifts. How embarrassing for him, to be hopelessly in love. Love was for suckers. Love was what put this crew in this mess in the first place. It was not about to get in the way again. Love was going to have to fuck off until everyone was reunited, maybe forever actually. Then, maybe nothing like this would happen in the future. 

I bet he thinks he's god's gift to Earth, the way he puffs his chest out. He holds his head pretty high for someone who won't even approach me. Not that I care. His spiky fur coat looks stupid and his head is fat. In fact, his head is so fat, it makes his ears look stupidly small.Snort. Keep dreaming, you ogre. My life is already dedicated to someone and they're way better than you. 

The villages were all the same. The food was trash. The people were skittish. And that stupid man of a hog was there. He was persistent. He could have credit for that. The villagers seemed to hide from him. Maybe due to his size, because he certainly wasn't intimidating. That was a bonus. They were annoying to move around anyway. When it came to the wastelands, things were different. It was harder to come by food, and the food that was found, was rotten or tainted. Somehow, the nights were colder there, and the days were hotter. Dehydration was a real threat, especially when the rain there was tainted, too. It wouldn't be that long to travel through it. It was doable.... wasn't it?

What was I thinking? I might... be lost. I'm so fucking hungry but everything is poisoned. I tried to eat some of the more safe looking things and still got sick. My tongue is so dry. I need a drink. The water looks like sludge, though. This sucks. There's not even any sheltered areas to sleep tonight. 

Waking up shivering was less than comfortable. This time, the gift he left, some fruit, was almost accepted. Almost. A few more days and it would be. This was becoming exhausting. Why was this fucking wasteland so huge? The blonde one was usually the reasonable one. Not this time. This was all his fault. Something was very wrong with him, though. His nature was more calm and steady normally. Perhaps he could earn forgiveness later, through food, as always.

Food. I'm so hungry. Not hungry enough to give up my pride and eat this fruit though. Not yet.

A couple days passed. It was finally time. Time to give in. It was plainly obvious that the fruit was planted. It didn't even match the rest of the fruit on the bush. It was lying on the ground near it, looking vaguely like the head of an animal. And was it glowing? Who cares? Everything was probably a tiny bit toxic here. One bite and it was certain that this was the worst tasting fruit on the planet. It was moist on the tongue, though, so nothing was left for the ants. It was a temporary relief. Though, now sludge was starting to seem appealing. 

No, really. That smells much better than it did before. There must not be any chemicals in here. I think I'll have a little taste. Fuck! That's good! Why was I not drinking this before? I don't even care that I'm Kidding-out right now. I'm starving! There's going to be sludge all over my face. Maybe my secret admirer will finally fuck off. Actually. I might wallow in it. Surely he won't get near me if I'm covered in sludge. And it's getting warm out so it will be sort of refreshing. Eat your heart out, stalker. 

There was an alarmed snort. "No, Queen!" He offered help.

"Don't touch me you fucking creep!" 

"Please. You're going to hurt yourself."

It was her turn to snort. "Do I look hurt to you?"

"No... you look like the prettiest gilt I've ever seen." 

"Obviously." Mini looked him up and down. "Okay good talk."

"Don't go! Let me at least escort you out of the wastelands." He lowered his head. "Please, queen."

"Stop calling me that."

"But... I want you to be my queen." 

"And I want to be left alone, but here we are." 

Minerva flicked her ears in an extremely unimpressed way. She turned away with him hot on her haunches.

"Won't you tell me your name?"

"...Mini."

"Aren't you going to ask mine?" He puffed his chest, which she did not see since he was behind her.

"No." She walked faster, annoyed that he was so close to her.

"It's Mountain God." 

"I could not care less."

He snorted. "I'm kind of a big deal."

"That's nice." Mini stopped. "Do you hear that?"

Mountain God flicked his ears in various directions. "No?"

"That's exactly what I want to hear for the rest of this trip."

The man never knew what hit him. You did though. It was a parasol straight through the heart. Kamazo had gotten you the most beautiful red bangasa tipped with a sharp, gold ferrule. The red helped hide the bloodstains when you were walking with it over your shoulder, and the gold, well, it was just pretty, especially when it was dripping with the same blood that left the stains. You pulled the accessory out of his body, leaving a hole clean through his chest. You swung the parasol over your shoulder and opened it, flicking the blood from it with the momentum. Turning, you glanced to Kamazo for approval.

"Fa fa fa. Hold still." Kamazo came up to you and wiped blood splatter from your face. "You did well."

You leaned up to kiss him. "I wish you would take these bandages off. I hate when you cover your face."

"You know I can't."

"Can't or won't."

"Watch it. Fa fa fa."

"I would kill anyone that stared." 

"I know you would."

"So?"

"Fa fa fa. There would be no one left if I let you kill whoever you wanted." Kamazo took your hair in his hand, admiring how the light reflected off it. "That's why Master Orochi likes you so much." 

"Really? I think he likes me so much because he's a perverted old man and I'm-." 

Kamazo put a hand up to your mouth. "Don't speak of him like that. I don't want to have to punish you again." 

"Sorry." 

"I know you are. Fa fa fa."

Orochi didn't need much convincing to let you work for him. Truthfully, he seemed quite pleased that Kamazo had spared you and brought you to him. Orochi should be grateful that Kamazo had kept you drugged until that point, or you would have snapped on him when he groped you. Your mind had started to clear in the past few days, ever since Kamazo had stopped giving you the strange water. Up until then, whenever you gave Kamazo any pushback, you had found yourself feeling foggy and dull soon after. There was something gnawing at the back of your mind, something that you had to do, but you couldn't remember what it was. If you could behave long enough for your mind to recover fully, maybe you would remember. 

Even though you knew Kamazo was giving you something to make you more compliant, you couldn't bring yourself to be angry with him. It felt protective, in a way. Was he protecting you from yourself, or himself, or maybe Orochi? The only emotion you could conjure when it came to Kamazo was adoration and loyalty. There was something keeping you from feeling anything else, not that you were sure you wanted to anyway. It was bothering you, though, that you weren't quite sure if you had always been this way. Actually, you couldn't remember much other than Kamazo. 

"Don't pout. You know what you're doing," Kamazo tutted. 

You grinned, with a hint of guilt. "You're rough when you're annoyed." 

"If you want me to be rough, all you have to do is ask."

"It's more natural when I push your buttons." 

"Fa fa fa. Consider them pushed."

Kamazo stalked towards you until your back was flat against the wall in the well-hidden alley. No one was going to bother you here. You both put your weapons aside. He slid his hand under your clothes and he caught your lips with his own. His tongue pushed into your mouth at the same time his fingers pushed into your cunt. There was a slight sting as you weren't quite ready. Your hips rolled into his palm, easing the stinging almost immediately. Your moans poured into Kamazo's mouth as he worked his fingers into you. He knew your body better than you did it seemed sometimes. Kamazo covered your mouth with his free hand so he could watch the pleasure on your face and keep you quiet at the same time. Your own hands were clinging to his clothing. They tried to grab his cock to jerk him off, but he was keeping it out of reach on purpose. Kamazo pulled his fingers from you and held them up to your lips for you to lick. You did what he wanted, tasting yourself on his fingers. Finally, he pulled his cock out. He spit into the same hand and moved it at a languid pace up and down his shaft. When you reached for it, he stopped you. 

"No. Watch. You're not allowed to touch." 

Again you did what he wanted, watching as he fisted his cock with increasing speed. He leaned over you, close enough that you could feel his hot breath ghost across your skin. You were forced to listen to the noises he let out, driving you wild. All you wanted to do was take him inside you. You wanted him to fuck you hard against the wall. He knew it, too. That why was he was punishing you this way. So close to that fantasy, yet he wasn't going to let you have it. He wasn't even going to let you finish. He just wanted to work you up so that you were that much more pent up when he denied you that pleasure. Kamazo sank down to his knees, hand moving furiously on his cock. He groaned as he leaned in, taking in the scent of your cunt, careful not to touch you at all. How easy it would be to ride his pointed nose until you came. But you knew it would only make your punishment worse if you moved or tried to get off in any way. With a guttural grunt and a shudder, Kamazo spilled his seed onto the ground. You groaned with desperation, watching the spurts coat the dirt instead of your insides. 

Kamazo stood back up, putting his dick away. "Maybe next time you'll act better."

"Kam..." 

"The faster we take care of the next hits, the faster we get a room. Fa fa fa." Kamazo tilted your head with your chin, biting your earlobe before whispering, "Then I'll fuck you raw, until you pass out."

You grinned at him, biting your lip. "I'll be good."

"I know you will. Fa fa fa."

Mini stretched and yawned, feeling her companion snuggle closer to her as she moved. She tried to run him off many times. So many times. But the bastard kept following her. He was obsessed with her. She finally gave in and let him serve her. If he wanted to wait hand and foot on her, so be it. Mountain God was a good hamservant, fetching Mini all the food he could find, even the contaminated stuff. She found herself craving it for some reason. The chemical smell didn't even bother her nose anymore. 

He didn't bother her as much anymore either. He was somewhat handsome for a hugely fat-headed boar. It was sort of nice to have another of her own kind around. She hadn't seen another boar in a very long time. Mini turned to her sleeping partner and jabbed him with her tusks so he would wake up. It was time for him to fetch her breakfast. Honestly, it should have already been in front of her when she woke up. MG was slacking since he thought she was finally into him. Wrong. Mini was using him as a tool since he wanted to act like one. 

MG's snoring tapered off and he shook his head as he woke up. He leaned in to press his nose against Mini's and she turned her head away. 

"Don't be like that, swineheart."

"Ew, Meej. Don't call me that."

"I can have a pet name but you can't?"

"It's not a pet name. I'm not calling you Mountain God. It's too pretentious for what you are. You're like... the Earl of Hills."

MG snorted in an amused way. "Somehow your insults only make me more infatuated with you." His eyes cracked open and blinked a few times. "You are glowing."

"Stop that. I told you not to talk about it." 

"No. Really. You're glowing." 

"What do you mean?" 

Minerva noticed a faint green glow emanating from her body. Oh no. Did I overdo it with the toxic sludge?  As she began to worry, her heart rate sped up. Mini didn't feel right. She noticed MG getting... smaller? That wasn't quite right. She was getting bigger. Her hooves fused into one hoof-shaped claw and her dew claws grew to act as a second and third phalange. Mini could feel her tusks growing larger and her tail getting longer, more muscular. She was as comfortable resting on her two back legs as she was on all-fours. Mini craned her neck to look at her body. There were bat-like wings sprouting from her back, with glowing green membranes. Bony, vertebral processes broke through her fur, which was now nearly black in color. Bending down, she used the reflection from a stagnant pool to look at her face. A boar's skull with glowing green orbs instead of eyes stared back at her.

Mini could no longer communicate, which she discovered by trying to speak to MG, and instead roaring so hard his ears blew flat back and he was covered in glowing, green spittle. 

MG was staring at her with wide eyes, taking a step back. He shuddered. "Mini... " 

Mini grabbed him with her newly prehensile hands, careful not to pop him like a water balloon. She sniffed him inquisitively, blowing out disturbingly radioactive-looking steam from her nostrils, which enveloped him in a cloud.

Mountain God swallowed thickly, a warm, tingly feeling flooding his body. "I'm in love with you." 

Next

Tag list: @bbnbhm @wgwingguns @nocturnalrorobin @lycanthropemaul