#how hopelessly tender

[vveltergeist]

ALSO have a Bonus Grandpa Galeo Funny voiceline:

You've heard of 'he should be at the club' now get ready for 'he should be at a retirement home.'

[itwoodbeprefect]

paragraphs that made me say "jesus christ what" out loud to my book

[lbhslefttiddie]

Could you talk a bit about how you plan out your longer fanfics? I’ve have a long fic I’ve been wanting to write, but I’m not sure how to plan/outline it, and I’d love to hear what your process is!!!

Mouse and the Thorn and Into This Wild Abyss had some very different things going on in the planning stage—it really came down to what kind of story i was telling and what was important for executing that!

(longish sowwy)

ITWA, from the moment i conceived it, revolved around sqq going through a largely preordained plot, and so i created a longass bullet list of all the major plot points and moved them around into the general order i felt it was best for them to happen. I generally kept the points brief and without flavour, lest it mess with the writing of the scene itself or I get bored of it before i even start. There was some variance in the writing stage, partially because i (cough) forgot to add several plot points in the originally planned spaces (see: xin mo), and partially because that's just sort of how it goes when you're actually feeling out a chapter, but the outline was like a guide that i would be able to pull back towards if i strayed too far, and allowed me to keep the end destination in mind, and keep track of important details. All told, the core aspects laid out in the outline didn't change much in the finished product. Frankly, it was huge relief to have that outline!! It definitely saved my ass many times. Truly a revelatory experience for me.

MotT, on the other hand, doesn't so much have a hard plot—lbh is currently 13 years old, before even the beginning of scum villain, so even the plot that comes built into this universe is a very distant thing. We basically just have a core cast of a few inextricably connected characters who are constantly influencing each other, and the "plot" is really just who is going through what character arc at this particular point in time.

Trying to create an outline would, to me, feel horribly rigid, when a lot of flexibility is necessary for something like this. Instead, i have a handful of cool scenes in my head, a general sense for where each character is at and where they're going, and it's just a matter of passing the mic around in a way that feels balanced for whatever arc we're in.

............It's worth mentioning that the way i've written/am writing MotT, while i think is for the best for this project, is also way fucking harder than how ITWA was planned and written. I've mentioned this before in passing i think, but on multiple occasions, i'll have written entire scenes out, and then need to push them back or move them around way more than anticipated because Something Else Needs To Happen First. (this also reflects in my art; the files are listed by date rather than chapter, and so some clusters of art are actually in backwards order--i did the art for what became ch 16 before 15, and 15 before 14)

It's not necessarily a problem, and I'm certainly enjoying myself, but this messy and fluid way of putting a story together straight up would not be possible if i did not already have a solid sense for pacing and balancing emotional elements. I'm absolutely certain that even a few years ago i would not have had the skill to write this fic without writing myself into a corner or rushing everything in a forced way or losing something important to the core of the story; i would go so far as to say this story is only possible because I wrote ITWA first.

I definitely would not recommend this strategy for your first longfic, personally. obviously, do what feels right for yourself, etc, and at the end of the day you should never let concerns of skill or experience stop you from writing the stories you want, but i think this process could, uh. Cause headaches. If you're out of your depth

[metranart]

Gojo and Geto are greedy lovers. “Is this not enough?” NO! They want more, they want EVERYTHING, a ring around your finger, their baby making your tummy round, you safe at home waiting for them, they want to be domesticated by you, they want you exclusively for themselves, they don’t want to share you with anyone.

You are theirs… that’s why they work for it with everything they have. Geto bends you over his desk while Gojo does so on his knees. Geto is insatiable and achingly tender while Gojo is possessive but insistently devoted. They have learned to work as a team. One kisses your neck while the other buries his face between your legs. One holds your trembling knees, spreading you wide, while the other licks, sucks and nibbles at your clit. One stretches your pussy while the other your ass, both filling you so goooood, both going out of their way to stuff you to the brim at every opportunity, they want you dripping in their gifted sorcerer cum… all in hope of getting you pregnant.

You are too independent, smart and strong. You don’t need them but you grant them your favor because you love them and they love you, but if you knew how intensely that love is ripping them apart, you might have suspected when your birth control pills started to taste like orange, maybe you wouldn’t be smiling as you let them fuck you in every place they have the chance, a lonely alley, in their office between classes, after and even during missions, in the morning, in the afternoon, at night, always letting them cum inside you,over and over and over and over again.

Confident of being able to control their insatiable nature, naive enough of not knowing that it was all part of their plan. Unable to see the immense and blissful expression on their faces when one morning they find you bent over the toilet, vomiting… Gojo and Geto hold hands to contain themselves, anticipation devours them, they can’t wait to see you grow round and heavy with their child inside your pretty belly… they grin like maniacs, one holds your hair while the other offers you a glass of water.

“You must have eaten something bad.” That calms you down, GOD! You are so adorably gullible, and now also… so hopelessly, THEIRS.

➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this drabble 🥴

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part two) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️ (part one here!)

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

(taglist for this series is closed. please see author's notes at the end of the chapter for important info about the taglist!)

Somewhere between his house and yours it dawned on Rafe, much to his annoyance, that he had a big, stupid crush on you.

He tried everything to suppress it. He reminded himself that you didn't like him, that you probably thought you were better than him. He reminded himself how stupid it’d be to get attached to someone only a few months before graduation. 

Jesus, really man? He thought. She’s not your type, Rafe. She hates you. Be a fucking man and pull it together.

But it was the way you were perched in the driver’s seat, scooted all the way forward leaving no room between you and the wheel, smiling as you sang along to Mariah Carey. You looked so soft and cute, the sleeves of his hoodie slipping over your hands as they clutched the steering wheel.

Fuck, he definitely had a crush on you, and he hated having a crush. There was way too much room for rejection. This was one area in which he’d never really grown up, so he opted for his usual defense mechanism - pushing your buttons, like he was ten years old on the playground, pulling your pigtail just to get a reaction.

“So was I right about you not having many hookups in college?” He blurted out sometime during the third play of All I Want for Christmas is You.

Your head snapped toward him, complete confusion and not even a smidge of amusement on your face.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled. “That’s kinda personal, actually…”

“I’m just saying, I’ve never seen you at parties, and you don’t seem to have a boyfriend. Four years is a long time…”

“Everything is about sex with you, huh? Some of us are actually in college to learn,” you scolded him. It was his intention to push you away, and yet the repulsion in your voice still stung.

“Alright, I’ll stop asking,” he conceded.

“Good,” you huffed, shoulders slumping a little.

He looked over at you every so often, determined to find a flaw, some blemish or ick that he could use as a dealbreaker. This plan backfired terribly, his eyes only discovering more pretty features and cute little mannerisms that made his stomach leap every time he looked at you. He felt like a moth, brainless and hopelessly drawn to the warm light of a lamp that was sure to zap him dead at the slightest touch.

After twenty minutes of freezing him out for his “no hookups” comment, you gasped and excitedly pointed out the first of many road signs for your hometown, your annoyance with him replaced with excitement as the signs advertised you were getting closer and closer to home. 

Then you finally gave him something to resent you for. After a remark about how excited you were to see your family, you looked over at him with big, kind eyes, nervously broaching the topic with a light touch on his arm, “I’m sorry about your family leaving you behind. That totally sucks.”

There was a softness in your tone that was so warm and inviting it made him want to jump out of the moving car. He knew he was fucked up for being mad that you were being nice, but he couldn’t help it, the tenderness in your gaze made him feel like a wounded puppy, and he hated your pity.

He pulled his arm away from your gentle fingers like they’d hurt him.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “They didn’t leave me, it was just a miscommunication.”

You withdrew in more ways than one, pulling your hand back and falling awkwardly silent. Rafe kicked himself mentally, of course just when you’d started to come around to him, he pushed you away. Little did those girls in your dorm know, that was the true Rafe Cameron special.

“So, uh, you were saying something about presents for your brothers? How old are they?” He asked, praying he hadn’t made you shut down for good, trying to re-stoke the fires of the friendship you had been building since you offered for him to come home with you.

You were chewing on your nails, picking at the dead skin nervously. At his prompting you started to speak again, though a bit less enthusiastically than before he’d shut you down.

“Uhm, well,” you sat up a little. “There’s Luke, he’s sixteen. And then Reese is thirteen and Bennett is ten.”

“Fun ages,” he nodded, wincing at his cliché words.

“They are fun,” you nodded, a smile returning to your lips at the thought of your little brothers. The sight of you smiling again soothed the ache in his chest and he leaned back into his seat, full of relief.

“Luke is such a teenage boy, too cool for everything. I got him some Nike cleats because he plays football, he’ll pretend he doesn’t like them but I think he’ll wear them. And Reese is quieter, he’s always been a bit more sensitive. He wants to be a photographer, so I got him a vintage Polaroid camera. Benny was the easiest to shop for,” you smiled at the thought of your baby brother, Rafe could tell you had a special love for him. “I got him one of those giant gummy bears that comes in its own plastic case. It cost a fraction of what I spent on the other two but I guarantee you he’ll be the most excited.”

“I’m sure they’ll all like what you got them,” he assured you.

“They better, they cost me a whole paycheck,” you huffed, thinking of all the hours you’d worked slinging drinks at your college’s go-to student bar to pay for the presents that were currently sitting in your trunk.

“It’s better than what I got my sisters,” he reminded you with a laugh.

“Hey! I spent six whole dollars on those souvenirs!” You scolded him, smiling at the memory of the crappy little knick-knacks in the backseat.

“And I’m sure they’ll love them,” he agreed.

“What about your sisters? How old are they?” You asked.

Surely, you were just being polite, keeping the conversation going after he’d asked about your brothers. But he wanted nothing less than to talk about his family right now, the thought of them all hanging out at the Bahama house, completely forgetting that he existed, still stung fresh. He wondered if Sarah and Wheezie even asked his dad where he was, why he wasn’t on the plane. Maybe they were relieved to celebrate the holiday without him annoying them, he probably deserved it. 

“Hey, isn’t that your exit?” He pointed at the highway sign, advertising that the off ramp to your hometown was only half-a-mile away, trying to distract you from your question.

“Yes!” It worked, you sat up in your seat, excitedly pressing a little harder on the gas as you celebrated the proximity to home.

“Woah, slow down, I’d like to celebrate Christmas alive,” he joked as the needle on the speedometer climbed higher and higher.

“Oh shit sorry,” you giggled, pulling your foot back to slow down a little. “I’m just excited. It’s gonna be so cozy. My dad will have put a bunch of colored lights all over the front of the house, and the tree will be up, probably a fire going and Christmas music playing. I can’t wait to see them!”

His jealousy was almost debilitating. What must it be like to feel this excited to go home? To know what was waiting for you was going to bring you so much joy? He wanted what you had so badly, he was tempted to reach out and touch you just to see if he could absorb your happiness by osmosis.

The little town you called home was just as small as Rafe was picturing, if not more. Though, the tiny houses lining the main street were decked to the nines with Christmas decorations, so much merriment in such a tiny little hamlet. The further into the country you drove, green street signs giving way to rickety, hand-painted ones, the more he felt like he understood you.

You smiled at all the lights, body absolutely buzzing with each turn that brought you towards home. Finally, you turned on a long dirt road, past a field of horses Rafe recognized as the farm you said you grew up next to. Approaching a mailbox with your last name on it, your smile fell from your lips, eyebrows creasing as you turned onto the property.

At the end of the long driveway was a small little split level home Rafe surmised to be yours, only where he expected a display of twinkling christmas decor, there was only one single flickering porch light. If he hadn’t known better, he’d assume the family who lived here didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, concern on your face growing as you pulled the car up and parked behind an old, rusting mini-van. 

Arms full of presents, Rafe helping with your bags, you stumbled anxiously through the front door. The inside of your house was just as disappointing as the outside. It was messy, dishes on the counter and the echo of obnoxious video games ringing through the halls where there should be the familiar chatter of your family having dinner.

“Hello?” You called out, setting the presents down on the kitchen table. You peaked your head over the island, into the open space of the living room. In the far corner, where there should’ve been a Christmas tree, there was a pile of unfolded laundry. 

Two messy headed boys peered over the back of the couch, the third head not moving from its fixation on the TV as his fingers continued to click away on his controller.

“Gigs!!” The smallest one, who Rafe assumed to be Bennett, shouted, he and the second smallest, who he identified as Reese, rose from the couch and made their way towards you.

“Gigs?” Rafe repeated under his breath.

“As in Giggles. It’s my childhood nickname,” you explained, and when you saw his teasing smirk added, “shut up.”

Reese and Bennett nearly tackled you, colliding into you with little bear hugs. Reese was nearing your height, though not quite there yet, and Bennett was small but stocky, his chubby arms squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Rice and beans!” You sang affectionately as you returned their hugs, messing up their hair and pinching their cheeks. You looked to Rafe to answer the question you could see already forming on his lips, “rice and beans, as in Reese and Bennett, their nicknames.”

He smiled at your affectionate embrace with your brothers, nodding with a little, “ah.” Something in him ached, like a haunted limb, a muscle he didn’t even have that was sore from lack of use.

After several moments, Bennett pulled away, eyeing Rafe and pointing a stubby little finger right at him, “who’s he?”

Reese covered his brother’s finger, forcing his hand down correctively.

“Benny, that’s rude,” you said, unable to suppress the little chuckle at your brother’s boyish indifference.

In your concern over the state of the house, you hadn’t planned out how to explain Rafe to your brothers. ‘He’s a friend’ wasn’t totally accurate, but it was the only language they’d understand. Before you could open your mouth to explain anything, though, your youngest brother blurted out, “are you Giggy’s boyfriend?”

“Bennett Alan,” you snipped at him through gritted teeth, giving him a motherly glare as you used his full name in warning. “You’re being rude, and he is not my boyfriend.”

This was true, though Rafe wasn’t sure there was any need for the tinge of disgust in the way you said it. He could sense Bennett formulating another pot-stirring question and jumped in before he had the chance.

“I’m Rafe,” he set his bag down next to the counter and held out a hand. 

Bennett puffed out his chest, putting on his best adult voice as he shook Rafe’s hand, “I’m Bennett, my friends call me Benny.”

You and Reese gave each other knowing smirks, sharing eye rolls over your brother’s precocious antics. 

“And which should I call you?” Rafe played along with his all-business tone.

“Depends, how much money you got?”

Rafe smirked, but you were mortified. “Oh my god, Beans! You can’t ask people that. Here, make yourself useful and put these presents under the tree.”

“We don’t have one,” Reese told you, the first words Rafe had heard him speak, and by his quiet tone and the way he avoided eye contact he understood why you’d called him the sensitive one.

Rafe caught the way you allowed worry to flash across your face for only a second before you smoothed your features back into faux nonchalance, like you were putting on a show for the kids.

“Oh okay, well then I guess we’ll just leave them on the table,” you shrugged, as if you hadn’t been raving about your family’s grand Christmas trees just minutes ago.

Your eyes drifted back to the living room, where your remaining brother still hadn’t risen to greet you.

“Lukey? Help me with my bags?” 

The shaggy haired boy finally turned, eyeing Rafe with a cold distrust that felt like looking in a mirror.

“Looks like he’s already got ‘em,” he grumbled.

You gave him an authoritative glare that had much less playfulness than the one you’d given Bennett.

“Where are mom and dad?” You asked Reese in a hushed tone, shielding the question from Bennett, who was busy dragging a chair over from the kitchen table.

“It’s Thursday,” Reese responded, giving you a knowing look like you should know what that meant. When you clearly didn’t, he added, “chemo day,” in a whisper so quiet Rafe could barely hear it. “Mom’s been asleep since they got back and dad had to work the evening shift.”

Rafe did hear though, and your eyes flicked to him quickly with a vulnerability he hadn’t seen from you yet, like he somehow had something to hold over your head now. He wanted to say the exact right thing to put you at ease, to let you know your family’s business was safe with him. As he was formulating the words, Benny was climbing up on the chair he’d dragged over, standing directly between you and Rafe.

“How tall are you?” Benny asked Rafe once he could meet his eyeline.

“Uhm,” Rafe cleared his throat, pulled from the moment, “I’m 6 '2.”

“I’m 4 foot 1 and three quarters,” Benny explained, as though if this were a competition, he was just a few points behind Rafe, and gaining.

“Nice! 4 '1 is very respectable,” Rafe smiled, deciding it was best to be on Benny’s good side.

“And three quarters,” Benny corrected through gritted teeth.

“Right, sorry, and three quarters,” Rafe put his hands up in defense.

Benny crossed his arms and gave Rafe a once over, as if he was the man of the house deciding if he was allowed to stay. 

Sensing your brother was about to say some other rude thing to embarass you, you stepped in, “Benny why don’t you go show our guest where we keep the air mattress,” you grabbed him off the chair and lowered him to the ground with some difficulty, “and be nice,” you added in his ear.

Benny obeyed but gave Rafe narrow, suspicious eyes the whole way down the hall.

“There’s like a thirty percent chance Benny tries to fight him,” Reese noted as the two of you watched them go.

You chuckled, settling on the couch between your two brothers.

“So who is he really?” Luke asked, still not pausing his video game but at least acknowledging your existence. 

“He’s just a guy from school,” you shrugged. “He’s Brody’s friend.”

“Is Brody here?” Reese asked hopefully. You and Brody had been friends your whole childhoods, and your brother’s were always big fans.

“No, he had an internship or something, but I’d already told Rafe I’d give him a ride, and when we got to his house his family was just, like, gone,” you explained. “They went on a trip and didn’t even tell him.”

“Yikes,” Luke said. “That’s shitty.”

“Language,” you scolded, making him roll his eyes. “But yes, it is shitty,” you added, making him smirk. 

“He’s like Kevin from Home Alone,” Reese quipped. All three of you laughed.

“Honestly? It was kind of exactly like that, only sadder. Like a lost puppy. I mean, who just forgets their kid?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping it wouldn’t carry down the hall. “I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do so I said he could come here.”

Your brothers seemed satisfied with your explanation. Even though nothing you said was technically untrue, you still felt like you were somehow being dishonest. You’d never admit it, but it wasn’t all out of pity, there was some small part of you that wanted to bring Rafe home, that was intrigued by him and wanted to see more. But there was no way to explain that to two teenage boys, so you settled for the Home Alone excuse.

Benny came back around the corner, leaping onto the couch and nearly knocking over Luke’s soda.

“Beans, chill,” Luke groaned as he narrowly caught his Mountain Dew before it spilled all over the coffee table.

“Where’s Rafe?” You asked Benny, looking around to see if he’d followed your brother back out.

“He said to tell you he��s going to bed, he seemed kinda grumpy,” Benny shrugged, stealing Luke’s soda when he wasn’t paying attention and taking a swig.

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in your voice. “Okay.”

Down the hall, Rafe snuck quietly into the laundry room as the fading voices of you and your brothers were drowned out by the sound of the water heater, which sat in the cramped space right next to the air mattress Benny had helped him set up.

Your voice echoed in his head, ‘I felt so awkward I didn’t know what to do.’ 

So it was a pity invite. You saw him as some sad character from a 90s movie, not an actual companion you wanted to spend the holiday with. 

He settled on the uncomfortable inflatable mattress. He was in a house full of people, and yet he was beginning to think he might actually feel less lonely all by himself in Tannyhill.

Up before the sun, out the door before breakfast’s done; that’s the way your dad had been your whole life, working a string of manual labor, blue collar jobs that meant he was usually gone before you woke up.

This morning however, you were determined to talk to him before he left, to confront him about the complete lack of Christmas you’d found at your homecoming. You set your alarm at an ungodly hour so you could wait for him to come down the stairs.

Hunched over the counter by the brewing coffee pot, you ran your hands over your face. Your holiday homecoming was nothing like you imagined, the biggest surprise of all being the person you came home with, but you’d figure out how to broach that subject later.

“Hi Gigs.” Your dad’s footsteps were so quiet, you hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. When you turned to meet him, he flashed you a tired grin.

He’d gotten home after you went to sleep last night, this was the first you’d seen him since your anticlimactic arrival. He looked more exhausted than you ever remembered seeing him. Even more tired than after Bennett was born and he had colic for six months.

“Hi dad,” you approached and gave him a hug before returning to the coffee pot to pour some for him in a travel mug.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked.

“A lot on my mind,” you said, turning to face him. “Made you some coffee. If you stay and talk to me I might just be persuaded to make you breakfast.”

Your dad slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, pulling on and lacing up his heavy work boots.

“No time for breakfast,” he waved you off. “You know that.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” You asked, knowing your window to get answers was closing quickly.

But he didn’t answer, he just sighed heavily and shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Just not a breakfast guy that’s all,” he joked. You knew he knew that’s not what you meant.

“You didn’t even hang any lights,” you mumbled softly, feeling a bit childish. “And there’s no tree.”

Your dad sighed again. You wondered if there was a record for how many times someone could sigh in one conversation.

“I’ve been working double shifts, there just hasn’t been time. I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s been a long year, kid.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s gotten so bad? I would’ve come back sooner,” you said, pulling a side eye from him that you read as: and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.

“I don’t know, why didn’t you tell me about the frat boy in the laundry room?” He countered.

‘Oh, right,” you blushed, feeling like when you were twelve and he found you hiding a stray cat in the garage. “Was gonna mention him but, you know, you were working.”

“Could’ve told me you were bringing your boyfriend home,” he scolded you.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you rushed to explain. “He’s Brody’s friend. He needed a place to crash.”

“Ah, Brody’s friend. That makes me feel so much better,” he rolled his eyes. 

Your dad was never a fan of Brody, too much of a ‘knucklehead’ as he called him. You knew Rafe wouldn’t fare much better in your dad’s good graces, no guy you liked ever did. Not that you liked Rafe. Fuck, your blush was getting deeper. You quickly looked down at your feet, hoping your dad wouldn’t notice. 

Luckily, he was too tired to read your facial expressions, he huffed as he rose from his chair and approached you, digging in his pocket for some cash. “Here, grab a tree and some gifts for the boys -”

“You haven’t even gotten them gifts yet?” You sighed.

“I know, I know,” he nodded, his baggy, tired eyes begging you for a little slack. You’d never seen him look so tired, sympathy overpowering your disappointment. “I’m trying here, gigs.”

“I got it,” you gave him a small, dutiful smile and pocketed the cash.

“I knew you would,” he gave you a side hug and accepted the travel mug of coffee you handed him. “I’m sorry things aren’t exactly what you expected. but I am glad you’re home.”

As he slipped out the front door into the chilly dusk, your mind spiraled. You knew your mom was having a rough patch with her breast cancer, but you had no idea it’d gotten this bad. No Christmas was simply not an option, maybe things would never go back to normal for you, or your parents, but that was adulthood wasn’t it? Your brothers shouldn’t have to grow up just yet, and you’d make sure they didn’t.

Everything felt wrong, off kilter in a way that made your stomach twist with the familiar anxiety that comes with any situation you can’t control. So you did what you always do when things feel uncertain; you made a list.

Pulling a notebook from the kitchen junk drawer, you uncapped a pen and quickly scribbled everything you could think of that needed to be done:

Decorations 

⇢ box in garage? lights working?

Presents for the boys 

⇢ wishlists? budget??

Buy and decorate tree 

 ⇢ Douglas Fir? tree lots still open?

Under each item you scribbled all the steps you could think of, as well as any conflicts you might hit along the way. Maybe if you could just work the problem, you could fix this, save Christmas and by extension, your family.

You eyed the empty checkboxes next to each item with worry. If you were going to pull all of this off in just two days, you’d need to call in some reinforcements. 

The door to the laundry room squeaks if you open it slowly, which you did deliberately, milking it for all the disruptive sound it’s worth. Rafe was sprawled out on the air mattress, which had deflated just a bit in his sleep, making his legs stick up in the air a little higher than his upper body. 

He was snoring away, just like he had in the car, your noisy opening of the door not doing what you’d hoped it would. 

You sighed loudly, he didn’t stir. You cleared your throat, still nothing. You coughed theatrically, he was still out cold.

Finally, you opened the lid to the washing machine, taking off one sock and dropping it in, letting the heavy metal lid slam closed as you started a rinse cycle. At the crash, Rafe shot up, nearly falling off the air mattress.

“Oh good, you’re up!” You chirped, as if you hadn’t caused the sudden awakening.

“What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up at all angles and he squinted, barely able to open his eyes in his exhaustion. You gave yourself one second to think about how cute he looked before redirecting your focus to the reason you were in here.

“Just doing some laundry,” you told him as he reached around in the dimly lit room for his phone. “But since you’re awake...”

“What time is it?” He slurred, still half asleep.

“I dunno probably like 9,” you shrugged, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.

“I can’t find my phone,” he sunk back into the mattress, making like he was going to go back to sleep. That wouldn’t do.

“Oh, here!” You flicked on the fluorescent overhead light, making him wince and pull the covers over his head.

“Gah! Turn them off please!” He cried out, voice muffled from under the blankets.

“It’s time to get up, we have a big day ahead of us,” you walked over to the mattress, kicking it to jostle him around on the half-inflated plastic.

“I’m on vacation,” he protested. 

“Yes, exactly, Christmas vacation,” you walked around to the end of the bed, grabbing the covers in two hands and pulling them from his body, making him groan and curl up in the cold air like a rolly polly bug. “We have Christmas things to do.”

You tried not to notice the sculpted arms revealed by his grey tank top, and you really tried not to notice how the thin material of his flannel pajama pants was leaving very little to the imagination. He looked up after a moment, blinking his eyes open to catch you staring, his lips twisting in a cocky grin. He opened his mouth to say something smug and flirtatious, but before he could, his eyes caught the clock on the wall behind you.

“It’s 6am?!” He yelled.

“Oh is it?” You laughed, no longer trying to hide your scheme. “My bad, 6s and 9s look the same to me.”

Swiftly, Rafe stretched out his long leg, hooking his foot behind your knee and pulling you toward him, sweeping you off your feet and onto the mattress. A sharp “oof!” left your lips and as you crashed down onto what little air was left in the mattress to catch you. Landing hard, you immediately slid towards him, your body settling square on top of his.

“You wanna talk some more about 6s and 9s?” He grinned at you, his morning voice low and raspy in a way that sent goosebumps rushing up your spine.

“Ugh, you’re a pig!” You smacked him on the shoulder, pins and needles lingering in your hand where your skin had met his, and tried to push yourself up.

Wobbling on the plastic mattress, your attempts to get off of him only had you wriggling further down until your face was hovering over his. This was the closest you had ever been to him, suddenly noticing just how blue his eyes were. The glow of them under the fluorescents actually knocked the wind out of you, freezing your body in place over him as you took them in, feeling like you might drown in them if you stared too long, but letting the waves pull you under anyway.

“Morning,” he lips curved into a smile that was so handsome it almost made you forget your mission.

Grasping at your reason for coming in here like it was a lifeboat, you decided to use the compromising position you had him in to your advantage, leaning a little closer as you said, “I need you.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in shock, was this really about to happen, right here in your parent’s laundry room?

“Oh yeah?” He flirted, muscles tensing in anticipation beneath you. “What do you need, hmm?”

“Just say yes and I’ll tell you,” you purposefully dropped your voice lower, adding a tinge of suggestion to your words to really bring it home.

“Anything,” he agreed, his mind five miles ahead of you in the wrong direction.

You sat up, straddling him, and pulled the list of tasks from your pocket.

“Great, get dressed, we’re leaving in five,” you smiled down at him, relishing the completely baffled look on his face. “We’re gonna save Christmas.”

“No, we don’t have time to stop, we gotta stick to the list,” you protested as Rafe turned the car off the road and pulled into a drive thru.

After tricking him into agreeing to help you, you’d rushed him through getting ready and out of the house, convinced the stores would be packed as soon as they opened. He dragged his feet the whole way, but somehow you’d managed to wrangle him into the car, insisting he drive so you could look through some catalogs to map out gifts for your brothers.

“If I have to be up at the asscrack of dawn, I’m getting coffee,” he shot you down.

“Okay, fine, but if we get there and all the good deals are gone, I’m blaming you,” you conceded.

You tapped your knee anxiously as the line of cars in the drive thru crawled like a herd of snails. Rafe watched your fingers strum out of the corner of his eye, noticing for the first time the way your nails were bitten down to the beds. He wasn’t paying much attention, but he was fairly sure they weren’t that messed up yesterday.

“What do you want to order?” He asked, unsure why but suddenly only caring about finding a way to distract you.

Without needing to look at the menu, you recited, “venti blonde americano with two extra shots of espresso and a splash, like a really small splash, of oat milk. Actually no oatmilk. And four shots.”

Rafe blinked back at you, your fidgety fingers lifted to your lips as you chewed on your cuticles.

Pulling up to the speaker, he leaned in and said, “yeah grande black coffee for me, and uh, a tall green tea please.”

“That is not what I ordered!” you snipped as he pulled forward to the first window.

“Yeah, I’m cutting you off,” he explained. “If I let you have any more caffeine, you won’t have any fingernails left.”

You dropped your hand quickly, surprised that he had noticed. You were miffed that he was denying you your coffee, but he was probably right. You took a deep breath and sipped your tea as he drove to the first stop on your list.

Somewhere along the highway, the radio jingled the familiar first notes of All I Want For Christmas is You. You sat up, excitedly reaching to turn the volume up.

“If I have to listen to this song one more time, I swear I’m gonna drive the car off this bridge,” he groaned, his hand covering yours to stop you from making his misery louder.

“Oh my god you’re so dramatic,” you raised your eyebrows, giving in and returning your hand to your lap. “She’s the queen of Christmas!”

“Please,” he gave you a pouty lip from the driver’s seat. “It’s killing me.”

“Okay, fine,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “No more Mariah Carey.”

The department store parking lot was swarming with last minute shoppers. You hated that you belonged with them, punished for procrastination. Usually you did things early and thoroughly, now people would think you were one of the careless who pushed things to the last minute. It was a silly thing to worry about, but everything seemed to worry you today. You even made Rafe exchange phone numbers with you in case one of you got lost in the crowd and you couldn’t find each other. Your mind was running wild with worst case scenarios.

Rafe found a spot far from the door, as you walked towards the store’s entrance, you flipped through the catalog you’d snatched from your parent’s junkmail.

“Okay, so I circled everything that’s similar to what’s on the boys’ lists but on clearance,” you explained to him as he grabbed a cart, not fully listening to you. “We’ve got like fifty dollars for each of them, I think we can find a couple good things.”

Once inside the door, Rafe immediately grabbed a bag of chocolates off of the stocking stuffers display.

“That’s not on the list,” you reminded him, jaw dropping when he opened the bag and started eating the candy right there in the middle of the aisle. “And you didn’t pay for that!”

“Relax,” he held the bag out to you, “have some chocolate. Get into the Christmas spirit.”

“Since when are you the expert on the ‘Christmas spirit?’” You eyed him, noticeably not accepting a piece of his stolen candy. “You just threatened to throw Mariah Carey off a bridge.”

“No, I said I was gonna throw myself off a bridge if I had to listen to her one more time,” he placed his hand over his chest as if he was proving his innocence. “Besides, one of us has to have a little joy,” he noted, tilting his head a little to emphasize his point.

He was right, you were stressing a little too much. If Rafe Cameron was out-Christmasing you, then clearly you needed an attitude adjustment. 

“You’re right,” you sighed, accepting one of his chocolates and popping it in your mouth as you looked around the store to map out your shopping plan. “Alright, aisle ten for Reese’s camera lens and then aisle four for Benny’s lego-”

Your sentence was cut short at the feeling of Rafe’s thumb on the corner of your mouth, his face cool and casual as the pad of his finger ran across your lip. Your eyes shot around, there were at least a dozen people in this section, all close enough to see him circling your mouth with his finger.

Before you could push him off, not that you really wanted to, he pulled back. You stumbled a bit, subconsciously chasing the feeling of his touch. He revealed his thumb to you, he’d collected a little glob of chocolate that had smeared around your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught for our little shoplifting scheme,” he joked, licking the chocolate off the pad of his thumb as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and not an incredibly sensual action for a fluorescent lit department store at 7am.

“W-we are not shoplifting,” you stammered, fighting speechlessness and praying he didn’t notice the way your cheeks were burning. “You better pay for those.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. I’ll pay for them, I promise. But if I forget, I’m saying you took them.” He dropped the chocolates into the cart before you could protest and wheeled toward the first aisle on your list, making you scurry a bit to catch up with his long legs.

“Bastard,” you mumbled, still feeling flustered.

Somewhere between the frozen food section and the office supplies aisle, you actually started having fun. 

Your cart filled slowly, the rush you were in when you entered the store slowing with every moment that passed walking around the store with Rafe. You joked about the hideous holiday decor, and the cheesy romance novel shelf. You stood on the back of the cart as he wheeled you around, nearly taking out a display of canned goods, and got a stern warning from a stock boy that sent you both into a fit of mischievous laughter. He tried on a series of truly awful hats for you, and even let you snap a few pictures.

As you laughed and shopped together, you couldn’t help but notice the cheery looks of the older ladies that passed you in the aisles. You returned their friendly glances with a blush, wondering, though it made you feel like a silly schoolgirl, if they thought Rafe was your boyfriend.

You’d remind yourself how foolish the thought was as you checked items off your list, seeing as this was not the real Rafe Cameron. The real Rafe Cameron wouldn’t be caught dead shopping for gardening gloves and barbeque tongs for your parents, he’d rather be pregaming a party or kicking the girl from last night who’s name he’d already forgotten out of bed. 

And yet, here he was, pushing the cart while you rattled on about Christmas when you were seven when it snowed so hard the power went out, the last time you remembered actually having a white Christmas. The way he nodded along intently had you actually wondering if it could be real, if being with him could be more than just a distraction from a stressful morning.

Your thoughts spiraled even further when he stopped to point out a his and hers sweater set, one reading “naughty” and the other “nice.”

“As long as I get to be the nice one,” you smiled as he pulled the itchy wool over his head.

He leaned down to tug its partner over your head, his voice low in your ear,  “Only ‘cause I know you like it when I’m naughty.”

Butterflies did pirouettes in your stomach, you snapped a picture of the two of you in a mirror, Rafe towering over you from behind as he smiled for the camera. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely buying these,” he said, tucking the tag into your collar, his knuckles ghosting over the skin of your neck.

After a few more shenanigans, you realized two hours had passed, and you still had several more items on your list.

“How about this? For your brothers?” Rafe asked, pointing out an Xbox in a display case. 

You snorted, “there’s no planet on which my brother’s would think that actually came from our parents. They’re still using an old PlayStation someone gave us years ago.”

“Well then I’ll get it for them, you can say it came from Santa,” he shrugged, as if the astronomical price tag below it didn’t even exist.

“Our Santa brings, like, socks and candy. He doesn’t have a black card,” you pulled his arm, guiding him to a cheaper aisle.

“And what does your Santa usually bring you?” He questioned, a not so subtle way to find out what you wanted for Christmas. 

“I don’t ask him for much,” you brushed the question off. “I just want my family all together.”

Rafe didn’t push any further, watching you out of the corner of his eye, realization dawning that you were serious, you actually didn’t expect to get any gifts for Christmas.

Not noticing his eyes on you, you scanned over everything in your cart, adding it up on your phone’s calculator for the hundredth time. You couldn’t remember a day in your life you weren’t worried about money. Every penny counts now more than ever with your mom not working and your dad unable to find a job that pays enough to keep everyone afloat without completely running himself into the ground.

Without realizing it, you brought your fingertips back to your mouth, biting your nails anxiously for the first time since Rafe had pointed out the bad habit several hours ago.

“Hey you know what?” Rafe said, and you were so lost in worried thoughts that you flinched at the sound of his voice. “Why don’t we split up to get the rest of the list? We’ll cover more ground that way. Also, I think I saw some fake trees on sale back there, so I can grab one.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling the little bubble of your flirty shopping spree pop. 

He was clearly ready to be done with this little excursion. But you’d had more fun than you thought you would, and there were still several days of break left to enjoy with him. You could feel the walls you’d so carefully built around your heart swaying just a little bit in his wind. The thought terrified and thrilled you all at the same time.

After collecting your half of the gift list, you searched the store for Rafe. You found him in the jewelry section, leaning against the glass display case. You made your way towards him, prepared to tease him for wasting time in a section that wasn’t on the list, before you saw his reason for being there. You stopped short, ducking behind an inflatable Santa to watch with a disappointed glare. 

He was chatting up a pretty sales girl, her store uniform fitted tightly as she smiled down at him, her cheeks rosy pink and pretty smile blindingly white.

Rafe gave her the charming grin you’d begun to hope he only reserved for you, probably drawling some cheeky compliments to cause her to blush in the way you surely did when he talked to you.

The feeling in your chest was unfamiliar, and painfully uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you identified it as jealousy. No, no, you were not jealous over this obnoxious frat boy, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be. That was not how you were gonna start your Christmas break.

Just as you’d resolved not to be jealous, he reached up and brushed his hand against the necklace she was wearing, admiring her jewelry surely just as an excuse to bring his hand close to her chest. She beamed at him, his attempts at flirting clearly working. 

A deep frown settled on your features. He was supposed to be shopping for your little brothers and instead he was feeling up a sales girl? You felt so delusional for thinking you’d misjudged him on the drive down. He was the same guy you thought he was when he showed up at your car yesterday, you should've trusted your gut.

Hoping he wouldn’t catch you watching, you turned quickly on your heel, beelining for check out.

Taking the bag from the sales girl with a wink, Rafe tucked the small item at the bottom of his cart, under the presents he’d collected for your brothers, and began searching for you in the crowded aisles, looking forward to the pleased look on your face when he informed you he’d found everything on his half of the list.

When he found you, you were already half way through checking out, loading items onto the belt and watching with tense shoulders as the total on the screen climbed higher and higher.

“What, were you gonna leave without me?” Rafe joked as he started adding his items to the belt.

“We’re on a schedule, we don’t have time to keep fucking around,” you grumbled. 

Rafe met eyes with the college-aged guy who was working as cashier, both of them flashing knowing smirks as if to say, “chicks, am I right, man?” Their boyish camaraderie made you even angrier. 

Once your cart was empty, you started to help Rafe empty his cart, but he jumped around to the front before you could, blocking your access.

“No, no, I got it,” he said nervously, his body blocking you from reaching into his cart.

Irritation crept up your chest, threatening to take over completely. You suddenly felt so petty and immature, like you were Benny’s age, knowing you were about to say something rude you’d later regret. 

“Fine!” You shoved the cash your dad had given you in Rafe’s hands, “I’ll just go pull the car around then.”

Rafe watched you leave through the store’s sliding glass doors, arms crossed as you exited to the parking lot, which was wet and slippery from the wintery sleet mix that had started falling at some point when you were in the store. You paused and huffed deeply, annoyed by the shift in weather, throwing the hood of your jacket up as you jogged across the lot to your car.

He had no idea what had changed in the thirty minutes you’d been shopping separately. There had been a moment earlier when he thought he’d finally won you over, and now you were back to treating him like he was the bane of your existence.

“This too?” The cashier asked, holding out the decorative mistletoe Rafe had thrown in the bottom of his cart, thinking he could work in some cheeky joke with you and get that perfect eye roll/reluctant smile expression you make that he’d become a little obsessed with.

“Yeah, sure, whatever man,” he agreed with a frown.

As promised, you brought the car around, giving Rafe the cold shoulder as you loaded the gifts into the trunk. When you got to the fake tree Rafe had snagged from the holiday section, you paused.

“What’s that?” You questioned him.

“A tree?” He snapped back. “I told you I was gonna grab one.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we have to get a real tree.”

Rafe looked up at the sky pointedly, the worsening weather causing shoppers around you to duck and run to their car to get out of the misery.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It just…it has to be real, okay?” You huffed. “I found the last tree lot in the county that still has Douglas Firs, so you can take this one back.”

“Why don’t we keep this one just in case you change your mind,” he suggested.

“Fine, keep it, but I’m not changing my mind,” you threw the box with the fake tree into the trunk and slammed it closed, nearly catching Rafe’s hand in the heavy door as you did.

You stomped around to the driver’s side, leaving Rafe to return the carts to the main entrance, his jaw clenched in frustration the whole way. What had started as disappointment in your change in demeanor had turned into full-on anger. He may not be your favorite person, but you weren’t the only one having a shitty Christmas, and he definitely didn’t think he deserved whatever the fuck this was.

“I’m telling you, it was veer left, not turn left!”

The windshield wipers were working overtime, squeaking against the glass as they tried and failed to keep the freezing rain out of your line of vision. You sat all the way forward in your seat to see through the watery streaks they left behind. You had pulled onto some muddy back road as Rafe read directions from the GPS, trying to find this obscure tree lot several miles outside of town.

“Veer left doesn’t make any sense, I know that road, it’s all factories and empty lots,” you waved him off.

“Okay, well it’s clearly not this road! Is this even a road? It’s like a fucking swamp out here, I don’t know how your tires are even still moving,” He argued back.

“Not everything around here is as nice here as it is in the Outer Banks, Rafe. We’re doing our best, sorry if we don’t meet Cameron standards,” you griped at him.

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant, just admit you’re fucking lost,” he snipped back.

“I am not lost. It’s probably just taking me on a shortcut. The road will clear up any minute.”

As you said those fateful words, the road got even more unstable, dirt and gravel mixing with the precipitation to make what looked more like a vat of chocolate pudding than a road. 

Stubbornly, you accelerated, determined to get out of this patch of road and prove to him you were right. As you sped up, the steering wheel turned erratically under your hands, your tires skidding on the slippery road, eventually stopping movement at all.

“Hmm interesting,” Rafe quipped sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you try to navigate the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“It’s fine, I just need to…” you accelerated more, your spinning back tire kicking up mud as it fought for forward motion.

“Stop, you’re gonna - “

POP! The car skidded forward violently just an inch before stopping altogether, the weight of it sinking underneath you as a loud whistling noise echoed from the rear tire.

“- blow your tire,” Rafe threw his hands up in exasperation as the low tire pressure light on your dash illuminated with a little ‘ding!’

You avoided his eyes, hands still clutching the steering wheel as you clenched your jaw in anger. 

“Thanks a lot,” you mumbled.

Rafe blinked at you in disbelief, jaw hanging slack. 

“Me?” He scoffed, looking around the car as if there was someone he could look to for confirmation that you were being insane. “How is this my fault?”

“You’re rushing me! I know how to drive on back roads but you were distracting me!” You were grasping at straws, you knew it, he knew it, but logic had flown out the window when the tire blew. 

Rafe just chuckled humorlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s just call someone and -”

But you were already opening your door, booted foot landing with a squelch in the mud.

“What are you doing?” He called after you.

You leaned down to look at him through your cracked door, “never changed a tire before, rich boy?” With a smirk, you slammed the door in his face.

Scrambling in the mud behind you, Rafe tried to reason with you.

“It’s pouring, you’re gonna get sick! Please just let me call someone and we can get a tow home - ”

“We still have to get the tree,” you shut him down, loosening the spare tire from the back of the hatchback.

Rafe threw his hands out in disbelief, “you’re not serious right? You’re still trying to find this fucking farm that, I gotta tell you, I’m starting to think doesn’t even exist.”

“Yes,” you said simply, lowering the tire to the ground and pulling the lug wrench from the trunk.

“You might actually be the most stubborn, ridiculous person I’ve ever met. What is it about getting this tree?” He yelled over the steadily increasing rainfall. 

“Because, Rafe, I can!” You dropped the wrench in the mud and turned on him, tears stinging your eyes as you yelled, letting all your frustration out on this boy, who just yesterday was a stranger. “I can’t get my dad a better job, and I can’t buy my brothers the presents the really want, and I can’t cure fucking cancer! But I can get a goddamn Douglas Fir, like we have every year since I was born. So I’m getting this tree! You can call your new friend from he jewelry department to come pick you up, but I’m staying here and changing this fucking tire!”

Standing back, Rafe buried his hands in his coat pockets, nodding along as you let it all out, the loose threads all twisting to finally weave together an explanation for your shift in mood. He spotted the tears as you mentioned your powerlessness over your dad’s job and your mom’s cancer, feeling like he was starting to understand your stubborn insistence to make this cursed Christmas joyful.

Though he knew he should be comforting you, he couldn’t help the little upward twitch of his lips at your comment about the jewelry girl. That explained your mood at check out, and if he was being honest, made his heart leap a little at the thought of you actually being jealous for his attention.

After several moments of his eyes on you, sizing you up as he digested your outburst, you suddenly felt exposed, and a little silly, “what?” you asked him with a burning blush.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin, leaning down to pick the wrench up from the mud, “just didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

Your jaw fell slack, out of all you’d just said, of course he was zeroing in on your comment about the girl in the store. You were somewhat relieved though, glad to have an excuse to move on from talking about all the sad, stressful things going on at home.

“You’re such an ass,” you laughed, the air between you growing a little lighter. “I bet people call you that a lot.”

Rafe knelt down in the mud, beginning to loosen the screws of the flat tire.

“Not everyone, some people go with ‘lost puppy’,” he muttered under his breath.

Your smile fell from your lips, your eyes grew as you realized he was quoting you back to you. He had heard you talking about him to your brothers last night. You replayed all your words in your head with a wince - laughing about how he was like the kid from Home Alone, saying you only brought him home because you felt awkward. God, now you felt like an ass.

“Rafe, I’m…I’m so sorry, that was not cool…”

“It’s fine,” he said, a small grunt leaving him as he used the wrench to loosen a particularly rusted bolt.

“No, it’s not. We shouldn’t have been laughing. I didn’t just bring you home because I felt bad-”

“Why did you then?” He stopped what he was doing, his eyes landing on yours so suddenly, you jumped back a bit, taken by the striking blue, and the vulnerability you were seeing in them for the first time.

Deciding it was time to get your own jeans muddy, you knelt down next to him, hands wrapping around the wrench handle next to his to help him pull, both of you struggling due to the rain making the wrench so slippery.

The bolt still didn’t budge, and you paused for a minute, sitting back on your heels and looking at him.

“Because it’s Christmas,” you answered his question. “And I wanted to spend it with a friend.”

The tips of his ears burned red, he hoped you’d think it was just from the cold.

Going in for a second try, you both tugged on the wrench again, gritted teeth and white knuckles as you combined your strength to turn it as hard as you could. Frosted rain slipping between the end of the wrench and the bolt made it slip, the metal flying through the air. You and Rafe both slipped in the mud under your knees, Rafe trying to catch himself on his hands so he didn’t land on top of you, but not quite in time. His large body landed on top of yours and you both went tumbling down the side of the road, landing side by side in the muddy ditch with an unsettling squelch.

Both of you completely covered in mud, panting and shocked, Rafe turned his head to look at you, “fake tree?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly agreed. “Fake tree.”

You and Rafe snuck in through the garage,  both of you tracking mud with every step. There was no way you’d make it all the way up to the bathroom without destroying the floors in your wake.

You’d laughed together the entire drive back to the house. What a disaster the shopping trip had turned into, and yet, you were more in the Christmas spirit now than you had been in a long, long time.

“Oh shit,” you yelped, slipping on your own muddy boot and knocking down a pile of boxes as you tried to stabilize yourself.

Rafe’s arms shot out to catch you, your nails digging into his forearms to hold yourself up. You eyed him, still wearing the “naughty” sweater you hoped he’d remembered to pay for.

“Well these are ruined,” you sighed, looking down at your own mud-soaked pullover. “And there’s no way we’re making it upstairs without tracking in mud.”

Before your sentence was even finished, Rafe was hooking his hands into the collar, pulling the sweater up and off with one pull, peeling off the soaked t-shirt underneath it, too. 

Failing miserably to hide your shock at his sculpted form, you bit your lip to silence the gasp that was begging to escape. He was just as built as you expected, if not more. His abs creased in a perfect set of six, sturdy pecs and two thick blue veins running through each bicep. He was somehow tan in the middle of December, and his skin was perfectly smooth apart from the little line of rough hair that ran from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans. 

He caught you staring, of course he did, and smirked as he flustered you further by unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor in a muddy heap, left in only his black boxer-briefs.

Frozen in place, you subconsciously pulled your sleeves down over your hands, as if covering yourself up more could clear the cloud of attraction fogging your brain. Rafe turned and walked towards the door that led into the house.

“Wha-where are you going?” You asked him, snapped out of your trance.

“To take a shower,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’m fucking freezing, but you can stay here and drip.”

He smiled at you expectantly, there was a challenging dip in his voice as he over pronounced the last word. Something competitive rose in your chest, he clearly didn’t think you had it in you to strip down, too. At the end of the day, you were a classic oldest child - you didn’t take kindly to losing.

Keeping your eyes locked to him, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it off over your head, copying him by pulling the shirt underneath off too until you were standing in front of him in just your bra. Rafe tilted his head as his eyes raked over you, raising his eyebrows when he got to your jeans, just as muddy and destroyed as his had been.

With a hard swallow, you undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, shimmying your hips a little to pull the wet denim over your curves. Rafe went pale and speechless, taking in the little show with a heavy rise and fall of his chest. You piled all of your clothes in the corner, hoping no one in your family stumbled upon them before you had the chance to wash them.

Rafe didn’t even try to hide the way he was drinking you in as you padded towards him in your underwear, brushing past him to get to the door first.

“I mean, damn,” he wolf-whistled at you, quietly so no one inside the house came looking for the sound.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, stepping ahead of him so he couldn’t see your pleased smile.

He followed your tiptoed steps through the hall and up the stairs, stopping at each corner to make sure no one was going to come around it and catch the two of you sneaking around in your underwear. 

Once you made it to the upstairs bathroom, you turned on the shower, excited to step into the steamy water and finally warm up. You were surprised to find Rafe still standing in the open doorway when you turned, sure he’d get the hint that he should wait outside when it came time for you to really strip down.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-scolded him.

“Enjoying the view,” he winked.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pushing him by his chest so he stumbled back into the hall. “I don’t need your help for this pa-”

Your sentence was cut short by the creaking of wood under incoming footsteps. Panicking, you grabbed Rafe’s wrist, pulling him into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. 

“Woah, is this really happening?” He asked breathlessly, licking his lips before you slapped your hand over his mouth to shut him up, his eyes going wide at your boldness.

“Someone’s coming,” you mouthed, urging him to be quiet as you kept your palm firmly sealed over his lips.

The footsteps in the hall grew louder, their owner getting closer and closer to the door, not knowing you had a half-naked man pushed up against the other side as steam swirled around your bare bodies.

As you both waited with baited breath, your eyes drifted over Rafe’s body, so close to yours in the tiny bathroom. You couldn’t help it, sure that desire was painted all over your features. There was no use in denying it, as the warm steam caused a single drop of sweat to roll down his chest and into the ripple of his abs, you finally allowed yourself to accept that you wanted him, bad.

He felt it too, you were sure of it, his eyes half closed with heavy lids as he looked down over you, drinking in all the exposed skin and soft lace of your underwear set. 

Just as his hand slowly started rising toward your hip, a knock on the other side of the door made you both jump, a little yelp of surprise almost leaving your lips before Rafe threw his hand over your mouth, the tables turned. 

“Hey Gigs?” Benny’s little voice called from the other side of the door.

You tried to move Rafe’s hand from your mouth, but he only allowed you to lift it enough to respond before covering your lips again.

“Y-yeah, Beans?” Your voice cracked in response, Rafe flashing you a teasing grin at your flustered state. You shot him a warning look, praying your little brother couldn’t sense what was going on.

“Can we open the presents you bought us now, pleaseee?” Benny asked.

Normally you’d say no, that they had to wait until Christmas day. But as you were about to reject his request, Rafe pulled his hand from your mouth, letting his thumb tug your bottom lip down as he dragged his fingers to your jaw and brushed the soft skin of your neck. You could tell by his wicked grin he was enjoying seeing how far he could push you, drunk off your blushes and gasps.

“Yes, sure, th-that’s fine,” you told Benny, eager to get him away from the door. Rafe chuckled quietly at your compliance, making you clench your jaw even harder in annoyance at him.

“Sweet, thanks!” Benny called, hurrying back downstairs, clearly not having expected you to give him the answer he wanted.

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you glared up at Rafe, “you can’t do that!”

He threw his head back in satisfied laughter, bringing it back down only to drop his lips close to your ear.

“So, how about that shower?” He whispered.

With a little grin of your own, you leaned in too, “Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Get out.”

Rafe managed to find his way back to the laundry room without bumping into any of your brothers. He ran his hair under the utility sink faucet to get the flecks of mud out, throwing on some clean, warm clothes before heading to the kitchen in search of a much needed glass of water, his mouth still full of cotton at the thought of you nearly naked in front of him.

As he rounded into the kitchen, he stopped short, surprise flashing across his face.

A painfully thin woman, who he could only assume to be your mother, stood in the middle of the small space, bony hands on the back of an empty kitchen chair. Her bald head was wrapped in a silky scarf, and she smiled an easy grin that reminded him so stunningly of yours.

“You must be Rafe,” she said. “Have a seat.”

(Series discontinued, sorry! Thank you for reading 💕)

a/n: okay not the single longest post I've ever made on this website. period. thank u for reading!! two more parts w the last taking place on New Year's Eve. merry everything!!

taglist note: the taglist for this series will be posted in replies asap and has gotten very long so it is closed. I'm soooo thankful that ppl want to know when I post you have no idea! but it takes me a long time to do and makes posting difficult, so I am asking that in order to stay on the list for the rest of the series, you interact with each post in some way (reply with feedback, a rb, an ask - anything you'd like!) it really helps me as a writer! thank you!!

if you missed the taglist, just follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs to be first to know when I post!

[acourtofchaos]

YOU CAN HOLD MY HAND IF NO ONE'S HOME | Sirius Black x F!Reader

Summary: When you aren't as good at hiding your relationship as you both think you are. [Fluff. 3.6K]

Warnings: Hidden relationship, very soft sirius, a little suggestive, typical mischief from the other boys

A/N: This is a re-write of a fic I wrote years ago for a character I no longer write for and I thought it'd be cute to turn it into a Marauders fic instead of getting rid of it :)

You woke to warmth.

To streaks of golden morning light that spilled from the windows and left glowing lines across bare legs that were hopelessly tangled with anothers.

There were soft puffs of breath stirring your hair at the crown and the faint smell of smoke and spice tickling your nose with every slow inhale you took in sync with the rising chest you found yourself buried against.

Your face pressed so deeply into the column of his throat that your lashes brushed the skin there when your eyes finally fluttered open.

And yet he tried to pull you even closer when you yawned and pressed your hands to his stomach in an attempt to shuffle yourself back, strong arms winding tight around your waist and the soft scrape of barely-there stubble over your forehead as he dipped his chin and planted a lazy kiss there.

“Don’t go yet.” He rasped, voice low, sleep-thick. "Want to hold you a bit longer before you go rushing off.”

You melted a little at that, your own apologetic kiss laid to the hollow of his throat before you pulled back to meet his sleep-warmed gaze.

Fingers stroking through the mess of his hair like you could soothe away the discontent that grew in both of you when you thought about having to leave his arms, his flat, pretending all the while that you hadn’t created a home for yourself in both.

Because that’s how things were between you and Sirius - how they had to be when this thing between you was a secret kept from the other three most important parts of your lives.

You’d decided together that they couldn’t know yet - Remus, Peter and James.

It was just still so new.

There would be too much pressure.

James and Remus were protective to an almost alarming fault and Peter would probably have a quiet panic attack over the possibility everything could go wrong. The boy who despised even the slightest arguments amongst his friends, fretting himself into an early grave at the thought of being forced to choose a side should it all fall apart.

It made sense to keep things between them until things felt more solid, less fragile than this sweet, tender thing you both held in your hands right now.

There was just times, this moment being one of them, where you wanted nothing more than to say fuck it and let them find out if it meant you could stay in Sirius’ arms that little bit longer.

And he was clearly thinking the same.

For when you stretched and tried to roll to the side, he followed. Catching the hand that had been reaching for your phone before luring it back and pressing it into the mattress whilst he rose above you.

“Where do you think you’re going, love?” He grinned, a little drunk with pride when you shivered lightly before throwing him a rather adorably unconvincing glare.

“We’re supposed to be meeting the others for breakfast and I still need to go home and change.” You huffed lightly, arching a challenging brow when he made no move to let you go. “Unless you want them asking why I’m in the same clothes I wore to the pub last night.”

Your words made his eyes spark, his voice turning silken as he leaned down, lips purposely avoiding your own and trailing tantalisingly slow over the line of your jaw.

“And if they did? What would you tell them, hmm?” He taunted, murmuring. “Would you make up some flimsy excuse like you did last night - let them keep thinking that you're so innocent and sweet, that you don't lie about headaches just so I can get you home and devour you sooner.”

“Are you forgetting we all grew up together?” You laughed breathlessly, loud in the otherwise silence of the room before it caught in your throat as Sirius nipped at your ear. “They already know I’m hardly what you call innocent.”

“Not like I do.”

You groaned when his teeth found your shoulder as he pulled at the collar of your t-shirt, sinking down until you arched like a bow against him before sweeping his tongue across the newly made mark.

You were clinging to him now, fingers buried into the warm skin of his ribs and every thought about getting up and leaving began to drift away like smoke in the wind when he raised his chin, smile sinful, teasing, to watch you as he rolled his hips into yours.

“Jesus, Sirius.” You breathed, an unbidden plea, and he sank down into you to kiss you then. All slow, soft heat as he indulged you, arms caging you in, gentle hands cupping your cheeks.

It made your blood catch light and your heart ache, your head dizzy with each brush of his tongue against yours whilst your skin grew warm and tingly from his body pressed flush against you - the sunlight that poured over you both when the sheets slipped away as you wove your legs around his waist.

A quiet moan slipped from you when he sucked at the pillow of your bottom lip and there was almost another as he drew back to look at you - all darkened eyes, ruffled hair and kiss-bruised lips.

“You make the prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, voice a little awed whilst his thumb scraped over the arc of your cheekbone.

You grinned, something sweet and golden blooming beneath your ribs that made you glow from the inside, the air feeling warmer as you turned your head to mouth a tender kiss to his wrist. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He murmured, dropping his head to nudge his nose against yours when your gaze was back on him once again. “Everything about you is so ridiculously pretty, you’re killing me expecting me to just let you leave when you look like that.”

His hand found the edge of your shirt, fingers toying with a hole in the worn fabric before they slipped under to splay across the smooth skin of your belly, his thumb stroking small circles that dipped teasingly beneath the waistband of your underwear.

He watched as your breath hitched, as you shifted beneath him like you were trying to to push further into the press of his hand and then he suddenly leaned back. Eyes twinkling and lips parted before they quirked into a smug grin.

“Speaking of which - isn’t this my shirt?”

Shit.

You'd hoped he wouldn't realise that you'd snatched up one of his when redressing last night. Choosing to forgo your own that was nestled among a few other things of yours in the draw he'd cleared out for you.

There was something about being wrapped up in a shirt that smelled like him, that you swore still managed to hold the heat from his skin despite however long had passed since he wore it.

It felt like safety and comfort.

It felt more like home than any of the dozen places you had given such a title to over the years. And you craved it.

You thought Sirius understood. That he saw it in your face and the flash of nerves in your eyes that stealing his clothes was a step too far too soon, because even when you shrugged, when you tried your best to sound casual and lie that you couldn't find your own, his smile only got wider. Sweeter.

There was a new warmth in his eyes as he tugged at the hem again.

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning brighter than any star in the sky. "Well fuck, gorgeous, maybe I should start hiding all your clothes if it means getting to see you in mine. Looks so much better on you."

A bubble of laughter rose from your chest - bright and airy with relief and something impossibly tender for the boy above you. You wanted to draw him down, kiss him until you were both breathless and drunk from it and feel him press so deeply into you that it would be impossible to tell where one you ended and the other began.

You would have done it if it wasn’t for the sharp ring of a message alert sounding from your phone, the shrill of it puncturing the sticky-sweet haze you’d both slipped into making you flinch.

There was a pout on Sirius’ lips when you nudged at him, your hand a firm and constant obstacle when he still tried to chase your mouth with his own before giving up and falling back into the sheets with a dramatic huff. Hiding his smile with mock offence at the sound of your chuckle.

You bit your lip as you raised yourself up on your elbows and looked at him.

The lazy way he draped himself back, all smooth, tattoo-littered skin against black cotton sheets, grey sweats slung low on his hips and his hair wild from where your fingers had tangled desperately within it. He caught you staring and his lips spread into another shit-eating grin, his tone full of taunt when he winked at you. “You gonna get that or just keep staring at me like you want to fu–”

He spluttered when the pillow crashed into his face, choked laughter erupting from his throat whilst you huffed and rolled your eyes before snatching the phone from the bedside table.

And then they went wide.

Panic flooding through your gut as you attempted to fling yourself to your feet only to get your foot caught in the sheets, flail, and nearly end up in a heap on the floor.

You caught yourself at the last minute, a hand thrown to the wall when you stumbled before searching the room for your jeans.

“James and Remus are on their way here. Right now.” You told a confused looking Sirius, whose gaze swiftly changed from concerned to a disappointed understanding, his body frozen right where he’d frantically risen, arms open and outstretched to catch you if you had fallen. “They asked if I’m nearly at the cafe because they’re on their way but stopping to pick you up first?”

“Shit, yeah, I completely forgot.” He muttered, passing a weary hand over his face before he slipped from the bed after you and in search of a shirt for himself. “They offered because my bike is still in the garage.”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes still darting along the floor before you spied your jeans partially hidden beneath Sirius’ clothes from the night before, all pooled together from where you’d tumbled into his room, mouths desperate on the others and hands a little too greedy to feel skin to take notice or even care where the things you were wearing landed.

He snorted at the way you lunged for them, the little cry of aha! when you lifted them triumphantly before bending to shove your legs inside them. “I’m just gonna have to go like this.” You huffed and Sirius had to bite down a wild groan when you straightened.

Between your sleep-roughened hair and kiss-swollen lips, the tight jeans and his shirt that, when the collar shifted ever so slightly, showed a brief glimpse of the pretty marks he’d left on your skin. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this breakfast with his sanity intact. “...let's just hope they don’t recognise the shirt.”

He swallowed hard, shook his head in a daze both in an attempt to reassure you and to rid himself of the feverish need that was rapidly bleeding through his veins once more. “They won’t, it’s not one I ever wore that much.”

And yeah, maybe that was a lie.

But he didn’t want to mention that it had once been one of his favourites and have you decide that wearing it wasn’t worth the risk.

Not when the sight of you in it had something akin to possessive wonder coiling in his chest every time he looked at you, infusing his bones and making his heart swell with it. Racing to an impossible rhythm, a delirious beat of mine, mine, mine.

There was another chirp from your phone and you quickly glanced at it whilst Sirius distractedly rummaged through his drawers, cursing as you located your shoes and yanked them on before reaching for him. “I have to go.” You rushed out, fingers curling around the nape of his neck to drag him into a too brief kiss, his lips only just beginning to part over yours when you pulled back and tried to dash towards his bedroom door.

Only, before you could take another step his hand found itself wrapped around your wrist and then he was tugging sharply, reeling you back into his arms so his mouth could descend upon yours once again - hot and messy. More than a little starved for the taste of you.

And despite yourself you melted, humming happily before you felt him smile against you and the corners of your lips tugged up into one to match. “Sirius, I’ve got to go.”

You laughed when his hand curled around your hip to pull you closer. His voice muffled but no less cheeky when he countered. “Just getting it out of my system before I have to endure the torture of being surrounded by our friends whilst pretending that I don’t want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you whilst you're wearing my shirt.”

Your thighs clenched together at that, cheeks warming as you imagined it. Without meaning to your fingers tightened their grip in his hair, the hand that had rested over his heart curling until your nails bit into his skin and you had to catch yourself as your hips subconsciously rocked against him.

It made him grin like a devil, even more so when you swore, his eyes gleaming with heat, mischief when you flexed your hand straight and pushed yourself away from him.

He let you go without a fight to finally pull his shirt on and chuckled, low and rough, when your narrowed eyes tracked over the tempting fit of it before flicking back to his. “You’re an absolute menace, Black”

“Only for you, doll.”

You snorted at that and turned, still grinning like an idiot when you swung his door open before you screamed in shock. Your hand flying to your chest to cover the place where your heart slammed frantic against your ribs.

Sirius was by your side in an instant, his body surging past yours in a blur to place you behind him, expression hard and dangerous before it morphed into stunned surprise. His brow furrowing and mouth dropping open.

Because at his breakfast table sat James and Peter. Both of them never looking more delighted with themselves than they did in that moment with laughter in their eyes and bright ‘gotcha’ smiles spread wide across their handsome faces.

Remus was busying himself with pulling groceries out of a bag but you caught the way he glanced between both yours and Sirius’ disbelieving expressions before hiding his face, grin soft and his shoulders shaking.

There was a moment of silence where all of you just stared at each other and then both you and Sirius spoke at the same time.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Did you seriously just let yourselves into my flat and sit waiting for us to come out?”

It was James that answered.

Like he’d been bursting with impatience for one of you to ask just so he could, his fingers tapping impatiently against the solid wood of the table before he pointed to you.

“What’s going on is that you’ve been lying to us and now you’ve been caught red handed.” He smirked, entirely too amused by the way you couldn’t even hide your guilty expression before he turned to Sirius and shrugged. “And you gave us each a key.”

Sirius scoffed at that, snarking. “Yeah, for emergencies, Prongs, not to be cr–”

“So you don’t want coffee then.” Remus interrupted mildy, lifting one of the steaming cups from beside him without looking up from where he was setting things up for your apparent breakfast. A spread of pastries and fruits, jams, fresh bread, bacon and eggs and sausages all lined up for him to cook whilst you slowly processed what you had just walked out to.

And just like that Sirius lost some of his guarded edge. He still watched them all and then you with calculating eyes, assessing the situation, looking for hints of discomfort before he softened completely and trudged forward to take the drink, then a second, from Remus whilst you sank into the chair besides Peter.

You expected it to feel awkward but it wasn’t.

There was no anger or accusation from the boys, only curiosity and something soft like joy when they observed the way Sirius drew immediately back to you, one hand placing your drink in front of you and the other resting gently at the back of your neck to let you know he was there.

They hadn’t done this with any other intent but to let you know that everything was fine. That you didn’t have to worry about things changing or them thinking any different of either of you because they would always be happy with whatever you decided as long as it was what made you happy.

And with that knowledge you fully relaxed, easing back into Sirius’ touch. You took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of the coffee, the bacon that hissed and smoked when Remus placed it in the pan and after a large gulp of your drink you turned to the curly haired boy across from you and nudged his leg with your toe. Smiling when his lips quirked and he nudged you back.

“Go on then.” You sighed with a grin, “Where did we mess up - what gave us away?”

James laughed, his features boyish and light with it. “Take a wild guess.” He joked and when you didn’t answer, blinking at him in confusion, he looked at you for a beat, then two, and then at his friend on the other side of the table, shaking his head with amusement. “I told you it looked like they hadn’t even realised what they’d done.”

You glanced at Sirius who looked just as clueless as you, racking your brain for such a memory and coming up with nothing.

“You kissed right in front of us.” Peter finally explained with a quiet chuckle. “Well, it was at the bar - which we had a pretty good view of.”

It hit you then. A little soft and fuzzy around the edges but you could remember Sirius’ hand resting on your hip, the way he'd tucked you tighter against him to avoid getting jostled at the busy bar and it had been second nature. A reflex almost.

You had looked up at him with a sweet smile and the moment you had tilted your chin he hadn’t even thought to deny you, pressing a warm kiss to your lips and then another to your forehead that had made your heart flutter.

You opened your mouth and then shut it again, pressed your palm to your lips to smother the laughter that bubbled up - bright and delirious.

You had both thought you had been so subtle only to discover you couldn’t have been more hopeless at hiding your relationship if you had tried. There was a twinkle in Sirius’ eyes when you turned again to find him watching you, an undisguisable fondness when you reached out and gently punched his arm.

“This is your fault.” You accused, teasing. “You kissed me.”

“And you didn’t stop me.” He winked, far too pleased at the fact to even consider defending his lack of restraint when it came to you.

Before you could argue there was a snort from the other side of you and you twisted to catch James rolling his eyes, an indulgent grin on his face even as he complained. All faux wretchedness and almost enough drama to rival Sirius. “Good god, I don’t think I can handle you both suddenly being this lovey dovey. I think I preferred being in the dark about this.”

It made you laugh when Peter responded before you were able, an immediate quip that had the brunette blushing wildly when he mentioned how he’d rather see this than what he used to innocently walk into in the dorms whenever James had Lily over.

There was warmth in your chest - a champagne fizz type of happiness - when it turned into a competition of swapping embarrasing stories and the room filled with bickering voices and radiant bursts of laughter, when Sirius drew his chair closer and tugged you into his side, fingers drawing lovely, sweeping patterns on your shoulder whilst his voice joined the chaos.

You beamed at Remus, who appeared at your side to place a plate of food in front of you, a little mix of everything that you liked that immediately had your stomach growling.

He returned your smile immediately, eyes crinkling with affection when you thanked him, before he ruffled your hair like he had ever since he had taken you under his wing the first time you met so many years ago.

Forever the protective older brother that somehow turned into a scolding mother the second Sirius dared to reach over with the intent of snatching a piece of bacon off your plate.

There was a flash of metal, a string of colourful curses from your boyfriend when the handle of the fork Remus had been about to pass you rapped across the knuckles of the offending hand.

“Hands off, Pads, you bloody animal. Didn’t you ever learn manners, jesus."

“Me? What about you? You break into my house, hijack my kitchen, and then try to nearly crack a bone over a slice of bacon. Where are your fucking manners, Moony?”

You zoned out the bickering in favour of tearing a chunk of still warm pastry and popping it in your mouth, startled when James’ foot gently kicked yours beneath the table.

His eyes were bright and full of mischief behind his glasses when you frowned at him and you nearly choked when he pointed the coffee-foam covered end of his wooden stirrer at your chest.

"So considering you were still trying to keep it a secret before we surprised you, how did you plan on explaining the shirt?” He crowed. “Because I could swear Pads has one just like it.”

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you. 

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death. 

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently. 

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.” 

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from. 

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches. 

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in. 

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort. 

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom. 

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?” 

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her. 

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself. 

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Calmness ✧

Plot: Ken and you have a real daughter.

A/N: kinda short :(

Soft evening light filtered through the den, casting everything in that warm, nostalgic glow you'd come to associate with pure contentment over these past few blissful years together.

Ken's attention remained transfixed on that vintage baseball game rerun flickering across the flatscreen.

Body settled deep into those overstuffed couch cushions with one leg casually crossed over the other in peak middle-aged dad repose.

But it was the tiny, swaddled bundle cradled against his barrel chest that held your rapt fascination from the archway.

Soaking in every precious detail of their serene tableau with an overflow of maternal adoration swelling in your breast.

At just three months old, your newborn daughter remained utterly oblivious to her surroundings - cherubic features smoothed into perfect repose while bronzed lashes fanned over porcelain cheeks.

One little fist tucked up beneath her chin while the other tiny starfish hand rested atop Ken's broad pec, rising and falling with each of his steady rumbles.

Her doting father absently brushed the pad of his thumb in soothing circles over the minuscule knuckles. Never once taking those transfixed mahogany pools off your slumbering miracle's face as if committing every microscopic shift to eternal memory.

That singular worshipful reverie you'd immediately recognized and fallen hopelessly in love with all over again these past few weeks.

The exact same soul-deep look Ken once bestowed solely upon the orphaned kaiju he'd raised before watching her depart for greener pastures - now magnified tenfold through his unbreakable connection to your shared offspring.

A permanent reminder of the family you created together from that cosmic loneliness.

"She's not at all like Emi was , is she?" You murmured, footsteps barely audible across the plush carpet until dropping onto the open cushion space beside him.

Ken responded with only a low rumbling hum from his broad chest while immediately unfurling that sheltering arm around your shoulders.

Cocooning you into his solid, familiar warmth until your cheek smooshed comfortably against the firmness of his shoulder. Close enough to press a wandering caress across your tiny miracle's silken crown.

"No - she's not. She's ours." A meaningful pause preceded Ken's soft, gravelly rasp ghosting across your hairline. "Our daughter...our real baby that you gave me, sweetheart. One I'll guard with my life the same way I do for you always."

Melting into the tender, possessive squeeze encircling your trim waist, you craned your chin up against his collarbone to receive that lingering brush over your puckered lips.

Ken's soulful gaze locked onto yours - swimming depths of protective ferocity tamed only through utter reverence for the two solitary souls anchoring his universe now.

The unspoken mantra of doing anything to safeguard the loves of his life until extinction itself.

"You've already given me more than enough happiness to last a trillion lifetimes, babe. Thank you," he whispered hoarsely against your skin.

"For being everything I could've dreamed during those cold, empty decades..."

You stifled the tiny sniffle by reclaiming his questing mouth in a searing, needful communion - conveying through satin caresses alone just how desperately you treasured this man and the profound sanctuary of family he'd bestowed upon you.

Your Ultraman, protector, partner, and living legacy of insurmountable love all in one. Cradling you both to his gallant hero's heart for eternity.

[irndad]

oh, but you're good to me -s.r.

a/n: i continue to not know the word count- but here's pining!spencer x sunshine!reader!! very hozier coded <3

The team has gone out for drinks after a stressful week, and this is a moment where Spencer finds that his willpower does not so easily overpower his desire. They’d chosen a kind of kitsch place, the kind where there’s couches where waitresses could bring you your drink under dimmed lights and music with cozy acoustic music played. Emily and Morgan were comparing conquests at their trip to the club the week prior, Penelope chiming in with warm support on either end. On the opposite table, Hotch and Rossi were discussing criminology in serious, even tones. 

And Spencer, well. He was well-occupied. 

His best friend is on the team, and he does not say that lightly. She’s earned her place in his heart, as hopelessly romantic as that makes him sound. But she did. He remembers the day he met her, warm tone seeped in patience and understanding. 

He remembers the sight of her like its engraved crystal, carved into the basis of his mind. Her delicate features distinct in their warm kindness. She’d offered her hand, shook it and giggled a sweet sound when he’d said it’d be safer to kiss. He’d blushed enough that his lack of flirtation in his intent was clear. 

On the jet, that first case, she’d listened to him talk about Russian literature and other obscure topics he couldn’t remember now, because now, all he can recall is the color of her doe eyes meeting him in intention. 

He’s pretty sure he’s in love with her. 

Which, right now, feels a bit like a drug- both painful and exhilarating. She’s a cuddly drunk (only with him, it seems) and he’s got a lanky arm tugged over her shoulder. It’s lovely in a way words vex him, the weight of her against him. 

“You look nice today, Spence,” she muses, looking up at him. His heart is going to stop.

“You do too,” he breathes out. This is nice. She’s touchy, and he likes when she touches him. It’s a pleasure, like sipping expensive wine or decadent chocolate, sweet and a little bit sad, because you know you can’t have it forever. 

She plays with his scarf, and he is hopelessly endeared by the sight of the fabric in between her delicate fingers. 

“This color is nice,” she muses, and god,  he wants to kiss her. This a thought Spencer has often, oftentimes at inopportune times. On the jet, in the office, at her house, in the car- always, really. 

Except now, no one’s looking at them. If loving her was enough to make her love him back, then he could. 

But it isn’t. 

He chokes back the emotion rich in his throat. He brushes her hair out of her face, a tender motion that betrays his intentions with her. 

“You always look lovely,” Spencer says earnestly. I love looking at you, he thinks.

She smiles back earnestly and warmly. 

“I didn’t think you noticed things like that.”

“I always do, when it’s you.”

He doesn’t know why this is what he’s allowed to have. She’s so close to him, pinned up against him and he can feel the curve of her waist against his side. He doesn’t get it, why he’s not her boyfriend but he still gets moments like these, where she’s pinned to him like velcro. He’s addicted to them, really- craves the moments where she falls asleep on his lap on the jet, where they’ll be walking together somewhere and she’ll lace their fingers and tug him along when she’s excited and the destination in sight.

Maybe this is just how she touches her best friends- he tries not to question it, because he doesn’t want to loosest. 

But tonight, under the low-light of the bar, shadows of her lashes thrown across the slope of her cheek- he wants to ask her.

“Are you like this with everyone?” He muses. He immediately regrets it, sees her face harden and feels the shift away from him, and the space leaves a gap of cold air. There’s a swoop f nerves in his stomach.

“I don’t know, I think I just thought- you know, we’re like this. We’re touchy, you and me.”

He’s not touchy. Everyone knows this, but she’s the exception to a rule that has held true his entire life. But he loves this, loves the feeling of this.

“I like this,” he says, intentional eye contact trained on her shaking irises. He reaches out and laces their fingers in an act of bravery that rivals some of his most intense moments, “I’m wanting inf you want more of it. Because I do.”

“You do?”

She’s back close to him, now, and he’s so immensely grateful for it. She smells like lilies and her, and this might be the only time he’s brave enough to do something like this. 

It turns out he doesn’t have to, because before he can answer, she kisses him. It happens fast, and his response is all instinct- pulling her into him closer, his hands around her waist and her soft sigh into his mouth that threatens to kill him. It’s better than his fantasies at night could have made him expect. 

“Hi,” she says, barely above a whisper when she pulls away. She looks a little adorably off-guard, in a way he’d like to create- like to instigate. 

“Hi back,” he says, a beaming grin threatening to spread over his face. He tries to memorize the feeling of this, the weight of her in his arms in case this is not something he can keep- he wants to remember it, what it felt like for her to kiss him, to be wanted by her. 

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

“Like out of here? It’s kind of cold outside-“

“On a date, Spencer.”

Instead of a response, Spencer kisses her again. It is absolutely the right choice.

[veilstqr]

𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 •᷄ɞ• ♡. ₊˚⊹ ✩

๋⋆｡˚ downbad!ni-ki ♡ fluff and crack x ni-ki being whipped and the members not letting him breathe & w.c 1.1k

─── ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

author's note: saw this pic of ni-ki and i just had to write on it, he's just so cute

Ni-ki has been smiling at the fluffy duck plushie for over twenty minutes now. His members, watching from a safe distance, were seriously contemplating whether an intervention was necessary (Jake already has the number of a psych ward dialed onto his phone).

“What is he doing?” Jungwon whispered to Sunoo, both of them huddled on one side of the couch, unsure of what to make of their younger friend.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “I have no idea, but he looks ridiculous.”

A quiet giggle escaped Ni-ki, his arms tightening around the plushie as he nuzzled his chin into its soft, yellow head. He sighed dreamily, eyes twinkling as if he had just discovered the meaning of life.

Jungwon and Sunoo exchanged glances. This was getting out of hand.

“Should we snap him out of it?” Jungwon asked hesitantly.

Sunoo shrugged. “I mean… do you want to risk getting drop-kicked?”

Before they could decide, Ni-ki turned to them, eyes glowing with an almost unsettling level of affection. “Guys,” he whispered, voice filled with unshakable devotion. “Look at him. He’s perfect.”

Sunoo blinked. “Ni-ki, it’s literally just a stuffed duck.”

Ni-ki gasped like Sunoo had just personally insulted his entire bloodline. Hugging the plushie even tighter, he scoffed, “How dare you.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

“I don’t get it,” Jake said from his spot on the floor, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Is this… some kind of puberty thing?”

Sunoo snorted. “Yeah, Jake. Ni-ki hit phase two of puberty, and now he’s hopelessly in love with a stuffed duck.”

Jake hummed, considering it. “I mean… it’s possible.”

Jungwon shot him a deadpan look. “No. No, it’s not.”

Meanwhile, Ni-ki was completely oblivious to the conversation happening about him. He simply cradled the duck plushie closer, gently stroking its tiny wings with the kind of tenderness usually reserved for priceless artifacts.

A dreamy sigh escaped his lips. “Don’t listen to them,” he murmured to the plushie. “They just don’t understand our bond.”

Sunoo stared. “Okay, yeah, we’re calling that psych ward.”

“Where’d you even get that thing from?” Jungwon asked.

“Well, first of all, he has a name,” Ni-ki said, clutching the plushie tighter.

Jungwon blinked. “Right. Of course he does.”

Jake leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay… what is it?”

Ni-ki looked down at the plushie with pure affection before answering, completely serious, “Sir Quacksalot.”

Sunoo choked on air. “You’re joking.”

Ni-ki gasped, horrified. “How dare you disrespect Sir Quacksalot like that?”

Jungwon decided to tread carefully. “Okay… and where did Sir Quacksalot come from?”

At that, Ni-ki’s face turned a shade pinker, his grip on the plushie tightening ever so slightly. “Nowhere.”

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Ni-ki.”

Jake gasped dramatically. “Wait. Someone gave it to you, didn’t they?”

Ni-ki scoffed, looking everywhere but at his members. “No.”

Jungwon crossed his arms. “Ni-ki.”

“…Maybe.”

Sunoo’s jaw dropped. “Who?”

Ni-ki hesitated, then muttered something under his breath.

Jake leaned in. “What was that?”

Ni-ki groaned, hiding his face behind Sir Quacksalot. “Y/n, okay? She won it for me at that arcade the other day.”

The room fell silent for exactly two seconds before—

“Oh my god.” Sunoo gasped.

Jake shot up to his feet. “YOU’RE SMITTEN.”

“I am not—”

Jungwon pointed at him. “That is exactly what someone who is smitten would say.”

Meanwhile, Sunoo was already dialing Jay’s number on his phone, a smug grin spreading across his face. “You owe me 10 bucks, pay up now.”

Jake let out a low whistle. “I’m honestly impressed. I didn’t think the duck plushie was part of the plan.”

Ni-ki, now fully flushed, groaned and buried his face in the plushie again. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Sunoo grinned as Jay’s phone picked up. “Hey, Jay. You’re welcome.” He paused, listening to the muffled voice on the other end. “Yeah, I said pay up—you owe me.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “How much are we betting on the next step in this disaster?”

Sunoo flashed a wicked grin. “We’ll see how long it takes for him to start writing poems for her.”

Just then, Ni-ki’s phone went off, the screen lighting up with a contact name that made him freeze: Pretty Girl <3

Ni-ki’s hand shot out to grab his phone, but Jungwon was quicker, leaping theatrically to snatch it from his grasp. He swiped up to accept the call before Ni-ki could protest.

“Jungwon, no!” Ni-ki hissed, his face going pale. “Give it back!”

But Jungwon was already holding the phone up to his ear with a dramatic flair. “Hello, is this Pretty Girl?” he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Ni-ki’s very good friend—he’s, uh, just a little shy right now.”

Sunoo cackled from the sidelines, unable to hold back. “Oh my god, this is gold.”

Jake, unable to contain his amusement, added, “Tell her Ni-ki’s too busy with Sir Quacksalot to talk right now.”

Ni-ki’s eyes widened in horror, but Jungwon ignored him, continuing the act. “So, Pretty Girl, how’s it going? Got any plans for today? I’m sure Ni-ki is totally free right now to spend some quality time .“

“Jungwon!” Ni-ki yelped, diving for the phone, but Jungwon struck his leg out to block the boy. Laughter echoed through the room as Jake and Sunoo rolled around the floor, struggling to catch their breaths. By now Jay, Sunghoon and Heeseung had already emerged in the dorm room after Sunoo broke the news.There was a short pause on the other end before Y/N’s voice came through, light and teasing. “Oh? Is he now? Well, could you let him know I was thinking of him and that I’d love to see him later tonight?”

Jungwon’s grin stretched wider as he glanced at Ni-ki, who was practically melting in embarrassment. “Oh, I’ll definitely pass that along,” he said with an exaggerated wink. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

Ni-ki grabbed the phone out of Jungwon’s hand in a panic. “Y/N, hey! I—uh, I’m sorry about that—”

The rest of the members were in hysterics by now, clearly loving every minute of this.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ni-ki mumbled into the phone, his voice barely above a whisper, but the smile in his voice was clear. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you later.”

Sunoo, still wheezing from laughter, muttered, “Yeah, right, Ni-ki. You’re totally not whipped.”

The boy just glared at the others, muttering a stream of curses under his breath as he trudged out of the apartment. But before he fully left, he grabbed the fluffy duck plushie from the couch and clutched it tightly against his chest, as if it could somehow protect him from the relentless teasing. His face was a deep shade of red, but no one could miss the way his hands were fidgeting, already mentally preparing for the meeting with Y/N.

As he passed by the living room, Sunoo couldn’t help but call out, “Good luck, Ni-ki! Don’t forget to wear your lucky strawberry panties!”

Lord have mercy.

200325

© veilstqr 2025. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission

tag list: @s1rawb3rry @hollyoongs @w2hoonki @httpenhoon comment or dm me if you want to be tagged in every update <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

PRACTICE MAKES A SURGEON PERFECT.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ R. LUPIN

SUMMARY ৎ୭ ever since you started dating remus, you’ve learned that he’s full of little surprises. but nothing prepares you for the moment he asks to practice braiding your hair—only to find out the real reason why, and suddenly, you’re falling in love with him all over again

WARNINGS ಇ. fluff, so much softness it might make your heart ache, remus being the most gentle and loving man ever, you falling hopelessly in love INSPIRED BY ಇ. this reel on instagram A/N ಇ. fell in love with remus all over again ‹𝟹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 952

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The evening is slow, the kind that stretches between the golden lamplight and the hush of a world at rest. You’re curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but your eyes keep flickering toward the man beside you.

Remus is quiet, fresh from a shower, his hair still slightly damp, his body dressed in the soft familiarity of an old sweater and sweatpants. There’s something so comforting about him like this, settled and warm, but there’s also a hesitance to him tonight, a pause in the way his fingers tap absently against his knee.

Then, a breath. A clearing of his throat.

“Can I practice something?”

Your brow lifts. “That depends,” you say, closing your book slightly. “What are you practicing?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “Braiding.”

The answer catches you off guard, but not unpleasantly so. “My hair?”

He nods. “If you don’t mind.”

It’s such a simple request, but the thought of his hands in your hair, of him sitting here with you, so quiet and careful, makes something tender unfurl in your chest.

You shift slightly, gathering your hair over one shoulder before glancing up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Go ahead, doctor.”

The couch dips as he moves closer. Then, the first touch—his fingers threading through your hair, warm and steady. He’s careful, dividing the strands with an almost reverent gentleness, and yet there’s something sure about the way he handles you, like he’s done this before.

His breath is soft against your shoulder, his touch delicate, and you let your eyes drift shut for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into the warmth of it.

“That’s cute,” you murmur.

He hums in acknowledgment. “What is?”

“That you’re practicing.” A smile tugs at your lips. “Is it for our future daughter?”

There’s the slightest pause, his fingers hesitating before continuing their careful work.

“No,” he says simply.

Your brow furrows, curiosity blooming. “No?”

His fingers tighten slightly around the strands, barely noticeable. “Not exactly.”

You grin. “Oh, is it for other girls, then?” The question is meant to be teasing, lighthearted, but the moment it leaves your mouth, you feel the way he stills, just for a second.

“Of course not.” His voice is steady, but there’s something in it—something firm, like the idea itself is absurd.

You blink, tilting your head slightly. “Then who—”

“It’s for my patients.”

The world stills.

You shift slightly, trying to see his face. “What?”

He doesn’t stop braiding, fingers moving with quiet precision. “The little girls before their surgeries,” he explains. “They can’t go into the OR with loose hair—it has to be tied back. But some of them don’t know how, or their parents aren’t there to do it for them.” He pauses. “So I do it.”

And just like that, your heart aches.

You can see it now. Small girls, nervous in their hospital gowns, sitting on the edge of their beds with their hands clasped tightly in their laps. And then there’s Remus—soft-spoken, gentle, kneeling in front of them, carefully weaving their hair into neat braids before surgery. Talking to them in that quiet, steady way of his, making sure they feel safe.

“Remus.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He ties off the braid at the end of your hair, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a lingering touch.

“It helps,” he says simply. “Gives them something familiar. Makes things a little less scary.”

Something inside you shatters—not in a painful way, but in a way that makes it hard to breathe, hard to hold the sheer depth of your love for him inside your chest.

Without thinking, you turn, shifting onto your knees to face him fully. He looks at you, confused at first, but there’s a quiet patience in his expression, a willingness to let you feel whatever this is.

Your hands lift before you even realize it, fingers brushing along the sharp edge of his jaw, tracing the warmth of him, memorizing the way he feels beneath your touch.

“You are unbelievable,” you whisper, voice thick.

His lips twitch slightly. “Am I?”

You nod, your fingers curling lightly at the nape of his neck. “You sit there and tell me something like that, like it’s nothing, like it’s just some casual part of your day—” You pause, shaking your head. “And you don’t even realize—”

He exhales a quiet laugh, tilting his head slightly. “Realize what?”

“That I love you,” you say simply, honestly, achingly.

A breath. Just a small, quiet moment before his eyes soften completely, something tender and endless settling into them.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you, really looks at you, and then his hand lifts, fingers ghosting along your cheek, the side of your neck, your shoulder—like he’s committing you to memory.

And then, slowly, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in the kind of kiss that says everything.

It’s slow, gentle, something deep and unshakable, something that lingers. He kisses you like he’s trying to make sure you understand, like he’s trying to return every ounce of feeling you’ve just given him.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whisper, smiling.

“In the most absurdly sweet way possible.”

He huffs a small laugh, eyes crinkling. “It’s just braiding.”

“No, Remus,” you say, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb tracing along his cheek. “It’s you being the best damn person I know.”

His expression softens, something warm and unspoken flickering in his gaze.

And when he kisses you again, it feels like home.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[shyoko]

☆ You sleep with a plush toy and not with them

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.) 

Requests are open

Heeseung☆

Heeseung had given you a deer plush before leaving on his trip, assuring you that even if he was far away, a part of him would always be with you. That night, upon returning, he found you in the bedroom, lying on the bed, hugging the plushie with care. A smile formed on his lips as he saw how adorable you looked, waiting for him so peacefully.

He slipped into bed, expecting to feel your arms wrapping around him as usual. However, this time, instead of receiving your warm embrace, he noticed that you were still clinging to the plush. He furrowed his brows slightly, feeling a pang of jealousy.

—Seriously? You're going to hug him instead of me? —he muttered with feigned indignation.

You didn't answer, which only made him more impatient. Determined to reclaim his place, he slid under the covers until he was right beside you. In one swift movement, he wedged himself between your arms, causing the deer plush to fall to the floor. Now, you were so close that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, and upon noticing his childishly offended expression, you couldn't help but smile.

—You're unbelievable… —you whispered, amused.

Before he could protest, you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Heeseung sighed against your mouth, completely surrendering to you.

—Tell me, why would you want that stupid deer I bought just because it looked like me when you have the real thing right here? —he grumbled, a mix of reproach and tenderness in his voice.

But you didn't let him keep talking. Without another word, you kissed him again, silencing any further complaints he might have had. At that moment, you knew that no plush in the world could replace the feeling of having him in your arms.

Jay☆

Jay hated that annoying rabbit plush. Not only did it look suspiciously cute, but it also blurted out cheesy phrases at random whenever someone squeezed its soft paws. More than once, he had asked—no, demanded—that you keep that "monster" out of his sight, especially after it scared the life out of him by speaking in the middle of the night.

Of course, being you, you ignored his pleas entirely. Not only did you keep it, but you also snuck it into your shared bed, hugging it as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. You lay on your side, back facing Jay, clutching your beloved plush against your chest while he tried to sleep.

After a few minutes in the same position, Jay wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in an attempt to cuddle. But the moment his hands touched something that definitely wasn't you, he knew exactly what was coming between you two.

His greatest enemy.

He huffed in frustration and, without hesitation, smacked the plush away.

—Get that thing out of this bed right now —he said dramatically—. If you wanted to hear embarrassing sweet talk before bed, you could’ve just asked me to do it.

Before you could react, Jay had already kidnapped the rabbit and banished it to the living room, putting an end to its reign of terror. When he returned, he slipped under the covers and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you'd replace him again.

—I love you to infinity and beyond —he suddenly whispered.

His unexpected confession caught you off guard, making you burst into laughter.

—Was that embarrassing enough to beat that monster? —he continued, a mischievous grin on his lips.

You shook your head, still laughing, but Jay wasn't done yet.

—Don’t worry, babe, I’ve been practicing even cringier lines. By the time I’m finished, you’ll be hopelessly in love with me… even more than you already are.

And knowing him, he definitely meant it.

Jake☆

The puppy plush Jake had gifted you fit perfectly in your arms. Its softness and gentle warmth lulled you into a deep sleep within seconds, snuggled up in your shared bed.

When Jake walked out of the bathroom, dressed only in his pajama pants, his lips curled into a smile at the sight of you. You looked so peaceful, hugging that little plush so lovingly, that his heart melted on the spot… though at the same time, a tiny pang of jealousy crept into his chest.

Without thinking much about it, he slid under the covers and carefully tried to pry the plush from your grasp. But his mission failed instantly. You were holding onto it so tightly, as if you were afraid someone would take it away.

But Jake wasn’t one to give up so easily. He was supposed to be the one in your arms—not some stuffed puppy.

With a sudden idea, he gently turned your body and started peppering soft kisses all over your face, from your forehead to the tip of your nose, until, between murmurs and caresses, you finally stirred awake.

—Get rid of this tiny, stinky pup —he murmured, feigning indignation. Don’t you realize you have a bigger, cuter one to cuddle with?

His childish pout made you giggle, unable to resist his adorable jealousy. His eyes sparkled with a mix of playfulness and affection, making you sigh.

Smiling, you slowly set the plush aside and, in its place, wrapped your arms around Jake, hugging him tightly.

He wasted no time in responding, pulling you closer with his strong arms, his grin growing even wider. Before closing his eyes, he pressed a gentle kiss to your neck—a silent reminder of just how much he loved you.

¡~Sunghoon☆~!

The argument with Sunghoon still weighed heavily on your chest as you sought refuge in your bed, clutching tightly onto the stuffed animal he had given you. Despite the warmth of the blankets, you felt a coldness inside, one that nothing seemed to soothe. Silent tears rolled down your face, tracing the path of your sorrow.

When Sunghoon entered the room, his heart clenched at the sight of you. Guilt washed over him. He didn’t want things to end this way—he couldn’t stand seeing you cry, much less being the reason behind it.

He approached the bed slowly, hesitating when he noticed your eyes were closed. However, his need to make things right overpowered his doubts. Kneeling beside you, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips making you open your eyes.

"I'm sorry, love…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've been a complete idiot. Will you forgive me?"

You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, his hands trembling slightly, as if he feared your rejection.

With a sigh, you gave him a small "yes," instantly easing his burden. He wasted no time slipping under the covers, wrapping his arms around you. But as soon as you felt his warmth, you gently pulled away, still feeling hurt. Instead, you clung tightly to the plush toy.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Don't be like that, please… I know I was an idiot, but don't punish me by acting so stubborn…" he mumbled with a pout. "And get rid of that damn plushie. Let me replace it. I promise I give way better hugs."

His words only made you frown. With a bit of force, you grabbed the stuffed animal and threw it straight at his head. The toy bounced off and landed in the far corner of the room, leaving him utterly bewildered.

Sunghoon blinked a few times before bursting into laughter, his uncontrollable giggles filling the room. Despite your efforts to stay serious, you couldn’t help the small smile that escaped your lips.

Seizing the opportunity, Sunghoon lunged at you, tangling you in his arms before you had a chance to escape. He began pressing tiny kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies between each one, until both of you were laughing together.

Little by little, his warmth, his scent, and the way he held you so tenderly melted away all the tension. Eventually, without even realizing it, exhaustion took over, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace, as if the fight had never happened.

Meanwhile, the poor stuffed animal lay face down on the floor, forgotten and abandoned, as if it had been an unfortunate casualty in a battle it never wanted to be part of.

¡Sunoo☆!

Sunoo had always been competitive over the most meaningless things, but you never imagined his new “rival” would be a simple stuffed animal.

It all started when you bought that plush kitten at a store, not thinking much of it. It was soft, fluffy, and had such an adorable face that it was impossible to ignore. From the very first day, it became an essential part of your bed. You hugged it every night while you slept, completely unaware of the sharp glares Sunoo was giving it.

At first, he didn’t say anything. He just watched in silence, pursing his lips every time he saw you snuggled up with the plushie. He kept telling himself it wasn’t a big deal, that he didn’t care… but the truth was, he did. Since when could a stuffed toy take his place as your favorite cuddle buddy?

One night, as you both lay in bed, Sunoo finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey, since when do you prefer hugging that plushie over me?” he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

You lifted your head in confusion, not understanding why he suddenly looked so offended.

“What? It’s not that I prefer it, it’s just… I don’t know, it’s comfortable,” you shrugged.

Sunoo rolled his eyes.

“Oh, sure. Super comfortable. I bet it also keeps you warm in the winter and gives you goodnight kisses.”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh, but he remained serious, as if he were genuinely evaluating his competition.

Before you could react, Sunoo stretched out and, with a swift motion, snatched the plushie from your arms. He mercilessly tossed it off the bed and settled into its place, wrapping his arms around you.

“There. Problem solved,” he said smugly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Sunoo!” you protested, though you made no real effort to move away.

He smiled proudly.

“I don’t know what you see in that stuffed cat, but I highly doubt it hugs you better than I do.”

“You’re so dramatic…”

“I’m just setting priorities,” he murmured, adjusting himself more comfortably against you.

You tried to complain a little more, but it was hard to argue when his arms were so warm and cozy. With a sigh, you gave in and simply nestled closer to him.

Meanwhile, the poor plushie lay forgotten on the floor, its innocent little face staring up at the ceiling, utterly defeated in the battle for your affection.

¡Jungwon☆!

After a long day, you had settled into bed, surrounded by the kitten plushies that you and Jungwon had collected over time. They were soft and comforting, so you simply hugged one without thinking too much about it as you waited for sleep to take over.

When Jungwon entered the room, he took in the scene: you, completely relaxed, clutching one of those plushies tightly in your arms. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, feeling a slight pang of jealousy.

“Seriously? You’d rather cuddle those fake cats than me?” he asked with fake indignation.

Without taking your eyes off the ceiling, you simply responded, “Not today.”

Jungwon blinked, surprised by your answer. “What do you mean ‘not today’?” he repeated in disbelief.

Instead of replying, you turned your back to him, ignoring him completely. Offended, he decided that if you were going to ignore him for a plushie, then he would do the same. He grabbed one of the stuffed kittens from the bed and started hugging it dramatically.

“You’re so cute, so soft,” he murmured theatrically, making sure you could hear him. “You’re definitely the best cuddle partner.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his childish reaction, and with a sigh, you sat up slightly. “Alright, enough. Come here,” you demanded, stretching your arms toward him.

But Jungwon wasn’t giving in so easily. “No, no, no. You chose the plushies, so now I’m choosing this one,” he said, squeezing the plush against his chest.

Without thinking much about it, you gathered all the plushies and tossed them off the bed in one swift motion. Then, before he had the chance to protest, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“There. Now it’s settled,” you said with a smile.

Jungwon chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I knew it. You just can’t resist my cuddles.”

“Shut up and hug me,” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he continued showering you with kisses and gentle caresses.

In the end, you had to admit: as adorable as the plushies were, none of them compared to him.

¡Ni-ki☆!

“I already told you I don’t like it when you sleep with a plushie that another guy gave you, baby,” Ni-ki grumbled, frowning as he watched you cuddle the source of his bad mood: the plushie Jake had given you for your birthday.

He walked toward the bed, clearly intending to take it away, but you, anticipating his move, quickly got up and ran out of the room with the plushie in your arms.

“Are you seriously running over this?” he laughed, following you at a relaxed pace. “You know I always win in the end.”

Every time he tried to grab you, you skillfully dodged his arms, staying just out of reach as you laughed playfully. However, a slight misstep caused you to stumble, and that was all Ni-ki needed to catch you. With quick reflexes, he wrapped his arms around you and effortlessly snatched the plush away.

“Ni-ki, give it back!” you protested between giggles, trying to reach for it.

Ignoring your complaints, he walked over to a high shelf and placed the plushie there, far out of your reach. He turned back with a victorious smirk, and before you could complain again, he easily picked you up and carried you back to bed.

“That’s cheating!” you pouted, but he simply lay down beside you and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy,” he murmured, hiding his smile against your hair as he gently stroked your back.

Defeated, you settled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the way his breathing matched yours.

“Now we can finally sleep peacefully, baby,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses into your hair.

Just before sleep overtook you, you heard his voice close to your ear, soft and sincere: “I love you.”

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi has been missing for a month after a scouting mission, when he finally, unexpectedly returns to you and the two of you reunite...

♡ NSFW, minors DNI ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ One shot, passionate, reunion sex ♡ Word count: 1800 ♡ Summary: Levi had been missing for a month after a scouting mission gone horribly wrong. No one knew what had happened or where he was, but the other scouts assumed he was dead. You and Levi had finally began your romantic relationship, and you were devastated by every passing moment without him. You're standing in your bedroom by the window, another sleepless, heartbroken night, when...

“Y/N.”

Levi’s voice. You recognized it immediately, and it was enough to send a frigid chill shooting up your spine. Your grip faltered on the windowsill and your breath trapped itself in your throat.

Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was this a part of grief no one had told you about? Was this what happened to a person after being so heartbroken and sleep-deprived?

It couldn’t possibly have been Levi. He’d been missing for nearly a month after a scouting mission gone horribly wrong and while no one around you dared to say it to you, everyone was sure Levi was dead.

You were nearly too afraid to turn around — that once you did, he wouldn’t be there, and your faint glimmer of hope would be taken from your desperate hands.

But, you had to. You turned around, your eyes moving first, your heart beating for the slim chance that Levi was really there, that he’d finally returned to you.

When your eyes finally landed on him, standing there in your doorway, he looked like an apparition. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent in the moonlight; his weary eyes were cradled by purple circles. Fresh scars trailed over his skin — it was too unnerving to think of how he might have acquired them.

“Levi.” The word came out as a single, shuddering breath. Without another thought, you rushed over to him, your knees wobbling slightly with each step.

Your trembling hands reached up to his face, and during the split second your skin made contact with his, it felt like you were touching a ghost. Your fingers molded to the contours of his jaw and cheeks, a shape they’d memorized long ago. Your eyes darted between his, searching for confirmation that he was, really, alive in front of you, and not just a wraith of the man you love. His steely eyes caught in the moonlight, shining and burning, fervid emotions stirring in their depths.

A single ragged, sharp breath released from your parted lips. Tears welled in your eyes uncontrollably, blurring your vision as they hung precariously on your eyelashes before pouring down your face, shimmering in the soft light. For the past month, you’d gotten used to the feeling of hot tears rolling down your face; they’d trail down your neck or drop to the floor, no one to wipe them away for you.

Levi’s hands instinctively flew up to your face, his calloused fingers brushing away each tear with a tender firmness and a subtle urgency. Seeing you cry made him feel like his gut was being twisted and wrung out.

“Why are you crying?” His voice was a gentle, gravelly whisper. “I’m back. I’m here. I’m okay.”

“Levi,” you managed to say, the word caught between shallow, pleading breaths. It was the only word you seemed able to muster.

His hands firmly cradling your face, he leaned in and gently kissed your cheeks, his lips absorbing the tears that continued to fall. It was seldom that he’d ever initiate something so intimate — he never really had before — but this was the time for it. He needed you. There was no denying it anymore. And he would do anything, at all, to stop you from crying.

His lips, which were always so unexpectedly soft and pillowy, swept across your cheeks before landing against your lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Your lips melded onto his, a feeling you had missed so tremendously and hopelessly over the past month.

The kiss became more desperate, more wanting. Your breathing harmonized with his heavy breaths that escaped between hungry kisses, your tongues found each other. Your fingers curled into his soft hair, grasping at the strands. His hands slipped from your face to your waist then your hips, grazing underneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

His grip on your hips tightened slightly as he walked you backwards to the bed, his lips still moving urgently against yours. He laid you back onto the bed, hovering over you for a moment to simply look at you, lying there before him. As you gazed up at him, your eyes shining with longing and adoration, his hand reached down and cupped your face, his touch reverent.

As he lowered himself down onto the bed above you, his lips parted with a soft, admiring sigh, and his hands shifted to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head, your bare skin left glowing in the moonlight.

His hands worshipped your body, his palms roaming against the curves of your skin. His thumbs brushed against your nipples as his mouth found the slope of your neck, placing devoted kisses below your ear.

“So pretty,” he murmured, his hands covering over every inch of your skin. “Thank you for waiting. For not giving up.”

Your head tilted back as his lips explored your neck.

“Levi,” you whispered between heavy breaths. “I’d have waited forever…”

His back heaved slightly at the admission of your undying commitment for him. His hands moved down to the waistband of your skirt, slowly sliding it down your legs, his hands rested on the softness of your thighs.

His hands gripped deeper onto your thighs as his lips moved down your body, slowly kissing a path from your neck down to your hips. After placing a soft kiss against your hip bone, he lifted his head, positioning himself squarely between your legs, taking in the sight of you swollen and slick for him.

His jaw clenched slightly as his fingers reached out to separate your folds, revealing the depths of your neediness to him completely. He dipped his head closer, his tongue swiping from your entrance to your clit.

“So sweet,” he murmured, as he went in for more, his mouth covering you entirely. “Always so sweet.”

His tongue lapped at you, savoring the taste of you, his eyes remaining on your face to see your every reaction. You reached down and slid a hand into his hair, pressing his face further against you as you released a loud whimper.

“Yes,” he moaned against you, his tongue teasing you, coaxing out pretty moans. His nose pressed and rubbed against your clit as his tongue slid inside of you, in and out, repeatedly. As you began to writhe and squirm beneath his mouth, his hands clasped onto your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you.

His tongue slipped out of you and up to your clit, sucking and teasing it relentlessly, earning urgent and strained moans from you.

He looked up at you again, his lips and nose glistening wet from your juices, as he reveled in the sight of you, pleasured by him. Before he could continue, your hand tugged at his hair, lifting his head up.

“I need you, Levi,” you whispered, your eyes locking onto his, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Now. I need to feel you close to me.”

You were desperate; you’d missed him too much, been too scared that you’d never get to be with him again.

His pupils constricted and he drew in a sharp breath. He nodded slowly and began to strip his own clothes off, his shirt falling to the floor and his pants pulling down to reveal his cock, throbbing and twitching with anticipation. He positioned himself over you, his eyes studying every inch of your face and body.

“God,” he groaned as his tip felt your entrance, pausing for a moment before pushing inside you completely, surrounding him with tight, wet warmth.

“Oh, Levi,” you moaned breathlessly, your cheeks flushing as his cock stretched your walls.

As you adjusted to his size, he lowered himself down onto you, his body pressed against yours, your legs wrapping around him. His hand found yours, your fingers intertwining tightly as he nipped and kissed your neck and drove into you with slow, deep motions, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You whimpered and moaned softly, sweetly into his ear with every movement, drawing a needy groan from him. His free hand tightened around your hip, holding you in place.

“I missed you,” he whispered, muffled against the skin of your neck. He quickened his pace, the tip of his cock hitting the sweet spot inside of you with every needy thrust, the room filling with sounds of your skin slapping against each other and your moans blending together. “I missed you so much.” He repeated, his voice raw and husky.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, struggling to get the words out between your moans. “You’re my everything.”

Your body began to tremble beneath his, and he knew that you were getting close. He lifted his head from your neck to hover above yours, his eyes locking into yours with unbridled passionate intensity. His hand slipped from your hip to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles into it as he drove into you. Your body arched up into his, your face turning hot, and an unfiltered moan escaping your lips.

His eyes drank in the sight of you like this — seeing you overcome with pleasure was all he ever wanted or needed.

“That’s it,” he whispered between slightly gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his thumb moving quicker, “cum for me.”

As if on command, your hips began to buckle wildly beneath him, your hand gripping onto his until your knuckles turned white. Your eyes shut tightly, the pleasure too overwhelming.

“Levi,” you cried out, so intense it was practically soundless, as your legs tightened their grip around his back, your walls clenching rapidly around him. The feeling was enough to drive him over the edge and with one final thrust, he spilled himself into you with a jagged, primal groan, his eyes remaining locked onto your sweet, flushed face.

As your breathing leveled out, you opened your eyes, gazing up at him once again. His body, spent and satiated, settled down onto yours, his hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. He tilted his head down to press a soft, gentle kiss against your lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips. The words hardly audible, as if he was trying to keep it a secret between the two of you, fearing that the world would conspire against you again and take you away from him.

Your hand trailed to his jaw, clasping around it softly, your eyes looking into his. “I love you too, Levi. And we won’t be apart again. I promise.”

His eyes closed with a single nod, and his head found the crook of your neck, his breath soft and gentle against your skin. His chest rested against yours, his heart beating solely for you.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by anonymous

[judebelle]

jude being protective over reader when a guy tries to hit on her at a bar omfgfjgfbhgsjb

didn't think so - j.b. x reader

a/n : this took me so long to write cus i got my nails done and ughhhh

cw : smut, swearing, annoying guy at a bar LMAO, unprotected.. wrap b4 u tap, semi-public sex, dom!jude, possessive!jude

pairing : jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc : 2.2k

---

"so, you from 'round here?"

the foreign words hung low in the throbbing atmosphere of a crowded club. the bass reverberated through the floor and neon lights pulsed to the rhythm.

you stopped moving to the music when a stranger approached you. his eyes fixed intently on you. you were left alone in the club when jude had excused himself to go to the restroom. you would've never expected this.

you felt a discomfort in his demeanor, instantly trying to put room between you and the strange man. a smirk played on his lips and his eyes scanned over you, his intentions on full display.

politely, you rejected his presence. "i appreciate the company, but i'm actually here with my boyfriend,"

he dismissed your mention of jude with a wave of his hand. he began to lean in closer, his words becoming increasingly invasive. you scanned the crowd, eagerly and hopelessly awaiting jude's return.

the man grew impossibly more insistent. "come on, sweetheart, we're all here for a good time. loosen up a bit,"

you finally decided on a more direct approach. "really, i'm not interested. i'm here with my boyfriend."

with a sly grin, the persistent stranger continued. "your boyfriend doesn't have to know. let's get out of here, just you and me."

just as you felt his words creep down your spine, jude finally emerged from the restroom, instantly sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere. he quickly maneuvered through the dancing crowd, his eyes not leaving you and the strange man.

he shot the man a piercing stare as he approached the table with long strides. "what's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the club's music with an edge that you'd never heard from him.

"hey, man, we're just having a good time. no need to be so uptight," the man flashed a toothy grin at jude, who was not having it.

jude's dark eyes flashed with anger, a look so intense even you felt the pressure. he placed a firm and dominating grip on your waist, visibly claiming what's his. "she's not interested. you need to back off and respect that," he commanded.

the stranger looked seemingly amused by jude's words. "oh, come on, don't be such a buzzkill. she seems to be enjoying our conversation just fine."

jude's jaw clenched even tighter. "how about we ask her?" he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. "babe, are you enjoying this conversation?" when you didn't respond immediately, his grip tightened on your waist. "are you?" you quickly shook your head 'no'.

a cocky smirk broke out on jude's lips. he turned back to the man, "didn't think so," his smirk growing when he saw how intimidated the man was.

"you're testing my patience. i suggest you find another spot in this club. now," jude ordered, his tone sharp.

the man reluctantly walked off to another side of the club. jude kept his dominating hold on your waist, his anger visibly coursing through his features. without turning to face you, his hand switched from your waist to your wrist. his knuckles turned white from his harsh grip. you winced.

"jude, stop! that hurts-"

ignoring you, jude pulled you towards the club bathroom. he kept his painful grip tight. pulling you through bunches of people with a clenched jaw, you were left to mutter excuses and apologies to them. "jude, can you relax? where are we going?"

your questions fell on deaf ears when his gaze was set on the bathroom door. finally reaching it, he opened the door to see no one. he yanked you inside before following. jude shut the door behind him and locked it.

you looked at your wrist that he had stopped squeezing. it was red and tender. "babe.. what's going on?" his eyes flashed down to your wrist, and his gaze softened slightly before hardening again.

he looked back up at you, and there was something different about how he was looking at you. his eyes were glazed over with something... foreign. there was a hunger in his demeanor. in the way he slowly stepped towards you. in the way his hands held onto your waist. in the way spun you and pushed you against the door. in the way his head dipped into the crook of your neck.

his lips pressed hot kisses onto your skin and your eyes shut tight. you gasped out when his soft kissed turned to passionate nips and bites. "jude... not here."

jude's possessive grip softened slightly, his hands now sliding sensuously up your sides. the atmosphere in the bathroom shifted, the air thick with desire.

his mouth left your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear. he whispered, "i can't stand the thought of anyone else trying to get your attention. you drive me crazy. i need you to know you're all mine."

your heart raced at the proximity, breath hitching as jude's words sent shivers down you spine. the muffled music wasn't so loud behind the washroom door, giving your ears a rest. the dim lighting over you illuminated his features in a way that had even you crossing your legs a little.

despite his convincing words, your hesitation was evident. jude's hand slithered to find the end of your dress, but it was so long that by the time he reached the end of it, he was on his knees.

your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of your boyfriend on the floor. jude's big brown eyes peered up at you. "please, y/n. let me show you how much you mean to me." he was... begging.

a quick nod from you was all he needed. you saw his expression change immediately from pleading to dominant. he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and your hands fell to his shoulders to keep you upright. he moved your skirt to make room for his head, but paused to look up at you, smirking.

"try not to scream."

before you could register jude's words, he had pushed your panties to the side and slotted his mouth on you. everything but profanities erased themselves from your mind. one of your hands found his hair and tugged, hard. jude's lips spread you open as he sucked your clit with fervor.

you found yourself whining when his movements slowed, gradually becoming gentle. you could see jude's occasional peaks up towards you, watching you melt at his touch.

"jude, i can't take it. please..."

you could feel him grin against you. "you look so hot when you're desperate, y/n." the way his name fell from his lips had you biting yours. he finally decided to stop teasing and fully indulge in you. he pressed his mouth flush against your warmth, allowing his tongue to explore every nook and cranny.

the feeling of him forcing you back onto the cold bathroom door sent trembles down your body. you began feeling that familiar feeling of tight heat start unravelling in your stomach. before you knew it, you were practically yanking jude's hair. "please, don't stop."

gasps were flying from your plump lips so fast your heart was about to fly out of your chest. "fuck, jude, don't stop!" unwillingly, your arms were flying around, trying to grab, to hold on to something.

thump, after thump, you helplessly clawed for anything to ground yourself. you ultimately ended up with your hands pulling jude as far as you could between your legs.

he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. if anything, he sped up, his tongue lapping at your juices. "jude, jude," your vision went white and your back arched against the smooth door. the muted music was overpowered by an unfamiliar ring in your ears.

jude looked up at your chest heaving over him. the sight of you all fucked out had him smirking, his ego only growing. he gently licked around your clit, cleaning up any mess you left for him.

he hummed as your sweet juices sat on his tongue. you finally opened your eyes that you didn't realize were screwed tight and let go of his hair.

"i told you to try not to scream." he smiled as he got up off his knees, keeping his eyes on you even when he was towering above yours.

"that was me trying."

his eyes fell to your cleavage and he couldn't help but lean in and press hungry kisses to your collarbone. "not done with you yet, sweetheart."

the excitement of not knowing what was going to happen next had you pooling for him again.

jude's hands dropped to your hips for the nth time tonight before he abruptly spun you around and pressed your chest to the door. your hands slammed against the door to stop your face from smashing into it.

you felt jude pushing your dress up hastily and pulling your underwear down. you didn't move, waiting for his next move patiently. although much patience wasn't needed since jude was moving as fast as he could.

you could hear jude unzipping his own pants and you couldn't help but bite your lip in anticipation. as gross as it might've been, your right cheek was pressed onto the door. you couldn't care less, though, not when jude was pulling himself from his pants behind you.

a groan fell from his mouth so quiet the music almost drowned it out. he stroked himself behind you even though he was already rock hard. he leaned against your back to whisper in your ear shamelessly,

"i know i told you not to scream, but this time i wanna hear you. i want everyone in this fucking club to hear how good i make you feel. maybe then those fucking pricks'll back off."

his hand moved some of your hair from your nape.

"think you can do that for me, princess?"

you eagerly nodded against the door, mouth too dry to speak. he smiled, "good."

jude pulled himself back before his hand grazed over the curve of your ass, his other resting against your lower stomach before he pushed himself in. he went so deep he could feel himself in your stomach, against his own hand.

it was as if he was hitting your vocal cords the way not a single sound could be heard from you despite your mouth being open so wide. jude's pelvis met your ass and he couldn't help but shudder. "fuck..." he whispered out against your back.

he finally started to move slowly, more so for himself than for you since you were squeezing his cock so tight.

jude dropped his hands down to your hips to keep you firmly pressed to the door. "don't move." he growled out. you had never seen this side of jude, but you weren't complaining. you found obeying him to be more enjoyable than expected.

jude's hips sped up, sending jolts of pleasure through your bones. strangled gasps and pants shot out of your mouth, your hot breath fanning over the door.

"that's a good girl, yeah? taking this cock so well." one of jude's hands left your hip to grab your hair and tug. he pulled your neck back until he had access to your neck. he dipped down and sucked marks on the soft skin. your moans turned raspy and you found yourself once again searching for something to hold on to.

your back was arched against his torso as he fucked up into you. you could feel every part of his cock and it was driving you dumb. your mouth was left agape as moans ran from your lips and into the thick air.

"tell me baby, y'think that prick from earlier could fuck you like this?" you gasped as jude's thrusts grew impossibly more rough. "no! god, no... only you can do this to me." he sent a harsh smack to your ass before smoothing it over gently. the pleasure and jolt of pain send your neck flying back further.

"jude, i'm close." you warned and jude kept his antics up. he whispered in your ear. "fuck, i am too..." he groaned out and let go of your hair. he straightened his back and went back to holding your hips in place.

you clenched around his dick, whimpers falling from your mouth. jude's thrusts faltered for the first time tonight. his hand slid down to rub your clit and bring you to your second high of the night. your breath caught in your throat and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

"god, jude, i'm gonna.." you couldn't even finish your sentence so jude did it for you. "cum, y/n. want you to cum all over my cock, shit!" obeying him once again, you finally let that string inside you snap, fully surrendering to the pleasure.

your vision clouded black this time, and you came with a sharp cry, "jude!" screaming his name, you trembled under him. the feeling of your release and juices all over his cock sent him over the edge himself. "fuck!" he groaned out and came with a final thrust. he buried himself deep, sending his seed as far as he could.

both of your pants and gasps were lost in the thumping music of the club. jude helped you stand straight before fixing his clothes. you pulled your panties back and tugged your dress down. you heard jude zip up his pants and you turned to look at him.

he was already looking at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

[starmapz]

❝ in which ryomen sukuna surprises you on your birthday ❞ ❦ cw ; gn!reader. fluff. ❦ words ; 478

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The King of Curses doesn’t make himself easy to love, but it comes easily to you.

Although he makes it clear he loves you in his own somewhat twisted way, you don’t expect from him what you would from a more traditional partner. You don’t expect him to handle chores around the estate (though he’s begrudging that you do any to begin with), you don’t expect him to tell you about his day and make small talk before bed.

You certainly don’t expect him to celebrate human traditions like birthdays, especially when he doesn’t celebrate his own. He won’t even tell you when it is.

So when he requests your presence in his chambers, what you don’t expect is for the big bad king to be holding a small plate with a pastry in one hand and a long velvet box in the other.

Blinking in surprise, you approach him slowly, eyeing him curiously. “What’s this for?”

“It is your birthday, dove.”

You could laugh at just how uncharacteristically soft this all is for him, but what does make you laugh is the way he practically shoves the gifts towards you. Sukuna’s gifted things to you before, but they’re generally robes or practical items for around the estate.

Setting the plate aside momentarily, you gingerly open the velvet box, eyes widening at the sight of a necklace you’d eyed several months ago while perusing a market. Sukuna had ushered you along, seemingly too busy to pay mind to the necklace you had your eyes on, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

“You went back for it?” You gasp in disbelief. He doesn’t say a word, four crimson eyes trained on you with a neutral expression as he observes your reaction. “Thank you, Kuna, it’s beautiful. I didn’t know you saw me looking at this.”

“I am always paying attention to you.”

You smile up at him, reaching forward to wrap your arms around the column of his neck as you press a cheerful kiss to his lips. Four strong arms wrap around your torso on instinct as you approach him, the tips of his fingers gripping you tightly.

You may not expect from Sukuna what you would from a traditional partner, but as he fiddles with the tiny clasp of the necklace with a frustrated grunt, you know that he cares. He shows his love through the little things, like not breaking the clasp in his frustration to open it as you giggle at the King.

When it finally sits around your neck, Sukuna huffs, but a rare tender adoration swirls in his sharp eyes as he admires you, adorned with a gift he got you for your birthday. His lips twitch up into a smirk as you grin, one more sign that although he may not say it aloud, Sukuna is hopelessly in love with you.

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❦ a/n ; a lil gift to myself for my birthday :) enjoy!

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Down Bad For You - Fontaine Girls x Male!Reader

A/N: The idea behind this one is this - what "pervy" kinks do the Genshin girls have? Since it's men that are usually depicted as having these, I thought it would be a nice change of pace. Women are like that too, though we view them as more "proper". They can be horny just like us men, even if they're fictional. The research for this one was fun, as I've never really explored the other perspective. I've planned this for each nation's characters, and I'm even open to writing something like this for the male cast - if my handful of fem readers want me to. Anyway, enjoy!

A/N2: The gif is how I imagine them thinking of these.

CW: Anal, roleplay, BDSM, pain play, Dom/sub dynamics, consensual non-consent, sex work roleplay. Very "concentrated" smut.

Everybody feels extra naughty once in a while - that applies to girls too. They are commonly believed to be more proper and restrained than guys, but that’s hardly true - they can be just as obscene in thought and action as men. They have their needs too, no? And although (most) of them wouldn’t admit to their dirty wants to anyone except you, are these really bad? After all, a girl being hopelessly horny for her man is hardly a sin. 

The care and love that Furina receives from you is something she values deeply. Sometimes, when she looks up at you, she feels like all she wants to do is to make you happy. Do everything, just to hear “good girl” fall from your lips. It's no wonder, then, that she likes to call you “daddy” when she's under you. No matter how rough you are, Furina will hide her face in your arms and take it - you want her to feel good, so there's no reason to worry. All you have to do is ask, and in return, you'll get to hear ‘yes daddy' and ‘I love you daddy'. Praise her often, let her act on her fantasies, and she'll be as happy as can be. 

Clorinde’s profession, and her main source of income, is being a duelist for hire. But what if she had a… different job? One where all a guy has to do is jingle a few Mora in front of her to get her tits out? Of course, being a prostitute is not something any sane woman - let alone Clorinde - would do, but the thought of being your pussy for hire gets her positively drenched. Perhaps it's the feeling of submission, the knowledge that you can do anything you want to her for the right price? Or maybe it's the chance to act like a bold, shameless whore without worrying about her image in your eyes? No matter the reason, she'll be thrilled if you let her indulge that fantasy in the bedroom. It's a fun way to signal what you feel like - give her a handful of Mora and she'll give you a hand, but a jingling purse will move her panties out of the way. Since it's just roleplay, the money doesn't really play a part and is usually just there for fun. But if you ever want to give her money, do it this way - you'll get an opportunity to see her furious blush as she pays for a dress or a new hat, remembering what exactly she had to touch and suck to “earn” these Mora…

Handsy? That's an understatement when talking about Navia. This woman keeps her hands glued to you, and they always seem to travel down to your balls. She absolutely adores these little guys. Watching a movie? She's rolling your nuts in her hand under the blanket. Cuddling? Her warm hand wraps around them and keeps them comfy. Railing her? She'll keep your sack in place with a firm grip. You can expect plenty of worship coming their way, as there's no better aftercare than having your sack spit-shined by an eager mouth. Balls are soft, cool and tender, feeling so perfectly masculine in her hands. All she is doing is giving your baby makers what's theirs - it's thanks to them that her belly bulges time and time again with cute, healthy babies. There's something exciting, though, in how nervous you get when she squeezes them a little tighter or drags her teeth over the sensitive skin. She has your masculinity, your male pride, in the palm of her hand, doesn't she? Don't worry - she won't damage the goods, as you still have plenty of kids to fuck into her~

She's a rare example of a person that really likes each part of her job. Writing, interviewing, taking photos and capturing things on film - Charlotte enjoys each part of the process, and that obviously bleeds into the bedroom. Her trusty Kamera captured more than just famous people, she'll have you know. She has entire smut albums at home, brimming with filthy pictures that show a completely different, far more slutty side of the journalist. Of course, she has a big reputation to uphold - these pictures getting out would be a major blow to her image, but what's life without a little risk? Nobody but you knows that Charlotte walks around with a few of these pics folded up in her wallet. And she doesn't play a stakeless game - she makes sure that each picture includes some part of her face, or at least a clue to her identity, usually the pink tuft of trimmed pubes. Each time she opens her wallet in public, she feels a tingle of excitement mixed with fear at the prospect of somebody seeing her creampied pussy, your thick cum pouring out like dense cream, or just what kind of facial expression she pulls when there's a cock lodged balls deep in her asshole. Of course, you have free access to the whole collection - she trusts you to keep them between you and her. The benefits of developing the photos yourself, right?

As all proper, young ladies, Emilie read a lot of books during her youth and continues doing so to this day. Some of the titles she stumbled upon were more… improper than others, but they quickly became her (literal) dirty pleasure. She found a special interest in mixing pain with pleasure. Whips, clamps, spiked wheels, cuffs and many more torture implements fill her collections, all ready to provide the most intense of experiences. Emilie used to lament to herself that she had no man that would embrace her, let alone her kink, but now? My, the possibilities are endless! She made herself a special playroom, and when she's in there - you're free to do anything your mind conjures to her, no matter how mean it is. Within the pre-established rules, of course. Hoist her up by the panties and just lay back, watching her wiggle helplessly and moan as the fabric bites into her plump pussy. Stuff your boxers into her mouth fingerblast her, adding heavier weights to her poor nipples every time she trembles from the pleasure. Punish her disobedience with relentless edging and an unlubed dildo up her ass. Don't stop, even when she finally releases the stress and pain you inflicted on her all over your cock. And when you're done, scoop up your exhausted wife and shower her with kisses - there's nothing nicer than some love and cuddles after being so thoroughly tormented. 

It's always the quiet ones. Would you expect the quiet and socially awkward Lynette to hand you a vibe and a remote? She's an expert in keeping up appearances, so do your worst. Lynette can take even the highest setting with only a blush and grimace, but it's the long game that gets her. Lynette knows this, and the first hour is always a desperate fight not to cum too much, as she knows overstimulation will crack her stoic facade. Show some patience and you'll catch a sight of her knees buckling or her tail shivering. Don't wear her out too soon though, there's still a lot of things she needs to get done. Before she started doing this regularly, conversations with people were boring and exhausting. They still are tiring, don't get her wrong, but now they are constant battles to keep herself from whining out loud and collapsing on the floor. Luckily, her brothers and friends don't have her feline hearing and she's the only one that can hear - and feel - the constant buzz inside her folds. 

Gods, you're so hot. Chevruse can't help but think of you and only you when you are away. Your body, your scent, your warmth, your beautiful voice… The groans as you chase your pleasure, the ravenous way you fuck her until you're content, only to do mount her again in a few minutes… You're so strong and insatiable. She always wondered how it would be to share you with other girls and watch as you juggle pussies and mouths as you see fit. If you'll have her, Chevruse will gladly offer a threesome, maybe even a foursome to her friends. Wouldn't it be nice? To have two other pussies to fuck when your main toy breaks? It's also a great way of bonding between besties. After all, what brings girls closer that sloppily sharing a load with Emilie or eating your creampie straight out of Chiori's cunt? 

Being independent and strong is a significant part of Chiori’s character. Wouldn't it be nice, though, to give up some of that every now and again? Have someone care for her, keep her close and tell her what's good for her? Of course it would - who would use this power better than a man? And what man would take better care of her than you, her darling husband? Keep in mind, though, that Chiori tends to be sassy and sarcastic with you - she clearly needs discipline. It's not that she doesn't respect you, she keeps her tone quiet and gaze low to the ground when you're her ‘Sir’, but she'll act bratty just to feel you dominate and discipline her. You may nominally punish her, but she's having the time of her life being set straight by a strong, mature, older and more experienced man. Every time she comes home late from the shop, her knees buckle at the thought of what she'll be doing in a while - digging her nails into your pants and whimpering into your thigh as you paint her ass red with your belt, make her kneel on dried peas or lock the bathroom door until she's feeling truly sorry. Every time, after enduring her punishment, Chiori will cling to you, seeking comfort and forgiveness from her ‘Sir’. Though this kink of hers shows up only behind closed doors, she might sometimes call you the honorific in a hushed tone, or hang off your arm as you take her out to dinner or the theater. Maybe submitting to a man isn't as bad as she thought - it definitely is hot as hell. 

Everyone is very respectful and fearful of Arlecchino, which does, at times, make her days very dull. Oh how she would love someone to come in, disrespect her, and give her a reason to let her frustrations out. While this does happen sometimes, she never gets to experience the smutty kind of that. And that's when you come in. Since she’s lucky to have a man of her own, Arlecchino won't hesitate to use you for all you are worth. But she doesn't just want to be made angry, no. She'll clearly communicate what she wants - she wants to be helpless, she wants to be angry, she wants to be desperate until she can't take it anymore and she just breaks. She'll love nothing less than being tied up and forced to cum way beyond what she can take, having her mind melted into slop over hours of stimulation. Vibes and wands are your friends here. Tie her up and just leave her there, maybe slap your cock across her face to rile her up even more. After the overstimulation kicks in, at first she'll be angry - Arlecchino will curse you, for the audacity of doing this to Harbinger and will threaten you with the worst fates imaginable. It's just good fun, so you shouldn't take it seriously, and neither should you stop until you hear the safe word. Push her to her limits. She loves it. Her noble blood, her titles, her position, her power, her influences… She can bring them up all she wants, but they won’t give her anything - not when there's a wand on max power, blasting her clit for the third hour in a row. Eventually you'll hear her beg, plead with you to let her rest, but don't relent. Push her further, watch as she understands that nothing will change her predicament and begs for mercy with her eyes, creaming on the toy time and time again until you grant her mercy. But don't go just yet. You must be so horny and frustrated, all because you indulged her in this. It's only right for her to give you some pleasure too, so go ahead and fuck her stupid, for good measure. Make sure there's not a conscious thought behind her crossed eyes. She can take all of this, don't worry. Arlecchino isn't some delicate girl that will yield to anything. She's a woman, and your own toy - she can take a proper punishment. If anything is wrong, she'll use the safe word, but that doesn't happen often - after all, you know your wife's body so well. 

Thanks for reading!