#how is it that writing this was faster than the last two...

[yllwjktscult]

New found feelings -Lottie Matthews x reader (pt 2)

!!disclaimer- english is NOT my native language so there for sure will be grammar mistakes!!

an anon asked for a part two and who am i to deny, hope you will enjoy it🫶🏻

in short: lottie and you have sex for the first after dating for months (also your first time ever) and it swirls new emotions you didnt thought you had (you little freak)

!! part one in here !!

WC: 2,7K (👀)

TW: smut☝🏻😭 you bitches are SO horny goddamn it.. but so valid. ANYWAY its lowkey cute ig (just typical me shit sns i write sweet one shots things☝🏻🥹) also, its SUCH a shit, im not good at writing smuts, but i love a good challenge but still, god damnit.. but if i keep staring at it in my notes, i woulndt post it at all, because i start to overthinking it and starts to change/rewrite it to a point it makes no sense after that so enjoy cuz even tho i said im posting it on friday, im posting it randomly with 'ah fuck it' mindset or i woulndt at all, girl bye-

oh and btw, this is probably my last smut for a while, so hihihi 🫶🏻🥹

well anyway, enjoy🫶🏻

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Who would have thought that couple months ago your stupid mouth that was faster than your brain and a hickey would lead you into a relationship with Lottie. Yes you heard that right. With Lottie fucking Matthews. Your close friend, who you are happily dating for months now.

How did that happened? you have no fucking idea.

Actually its a bullshit, you know damn well and each time it makes your stomach do flips.

It happened few weeks after the hickey. Lottie was joking (she wasnt) she would show you how right kissing feels like, and your curious and confused ass wanted to know. You agreed because, HELL you were confused about your feeling for her at that time.

After Lottie kissed you, she admitted she liked you, well shit scratch that. She literally said she was in love with you. And you were happy to hear that. However you did tell her you are confused about your feelings at the moment and she was sweet and understandable about it. Couple weeks after that and more kissing practice, you realised you are in love with her too and thats how you ended dating eachtoher. Your friends (yellowjackets) were about to throw a party because it took you way too fucking long to a point they made bets when you two will start dating.

It was a sweet relationship and you wanted to cry each time you realised you are dating someone so sweet as Lottie. She wanted to hold hand all the time, was so kind and gentle with you, saying it will be in your own pace and had eyes only for you. Like you literally could see her giving you heart eyes it made you want to cry, noone looked at you with so much love as she did. It was almost as if puppy was looking at you with adoration and pure love. Literally a Lottie. She was the kindness soul and you couldnt be more happier that your first relationship was with someone as her. Yes, you did kissed a guy or two before at some party (you were little drunk and wanted to know what the hype is about) but you werent in a relationship yet. You wanted to, you were a hopeless romantic after all, but noone sparked that fire inside you that screamed 'they are worth to give them my all' well.. that was until Lottie, you wanted to give her everything. Like literally, you were so in love with her it physically hurted you.

However, you were still scared shittless. Scared you will fuck this up somehow, scared she will find someone else, someone better who isnt a ball of anxiety and needs time. You were so in love with her you were scared you will lose her over wrongly holding her hand (unknown to you, it was one of the many things why Lottie fell in love with you, in her eyes, you were so cute to her no matter what, it was your charm, how shy you acted with her since you started dating)

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You felt Lottie rest on top of you completely as she deepened the kiss, her tongue licking your bottom lip, lowkey begging for you to open your mouth and you did.

Did you moan? well yes.. yes you did. Did she smirk at that reaction? fuck yes she did. And she loved it.

The kiss got heated after a while, you both breathing heavily, you both making sounds of enjoyment and the sound of kissing hitting your ears made you want to moan again with how good its making you feel in your whole body but mainly in your lower abdomen.

You were so lost into the kiss you didnt notice Lottie sneaking her hand under your shirt on your stomach, until the tips of her fingers peaked inside the waistband of your pants.

That woke you up and you grabbed her hand and stopped the kissing.

"W-what are you doing?" you stuttered it out, cheek flushed and looking deep into her eyes.

Lottie with her own reddish cheeks got embarrassed that she got too lost into the kiss she smiled shyly as she looked at you.

"S-sorry, i got carried away" she mumbles shyly and leaned down and kisses you again. But you are certarly not into is as you were before, your brain is stuck in the moments few seconds ago. You are conflicted. You want her to, but at the same time, you are scared shitless. What if you do something wrong during it? or what if you are horrible at it and she will break up with you?

"Stop it, you are overthinking again" Lottie mumbles against your lips.

"Did you really wanted to..?" you asked shyly and unsurely. You wanted to, like really really wanted to but at the same time you were scared. Terrified even.

Lottie goes quiet for a bit, her cheeks still flushed and bites her lip before she nods "But we dont have to okay?" she kissed your cheek after she smiled at you sweetly and started cuddling you instead.

You wont lie, you were glad, because you felt like your heart will burst out of your chest at the time.

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For the next few days your brain was stuck in the moment, yes, exactly, the moment when Lotties fingers were peaking into your pants. Its was like a loop, and hell, the more days passed, the more you craved it.

So, thats whats happening now, you coulndnt take it anymore and when you got to Lotties house again and changed into her hoodie (she might once said you looked cute in her clothes and fuck it you loved wearing her clothes if we are being honest in here, they are so comfy, smells like her and they are warm and they are hers) you went to her and asked if she still wants you like that (actually you were way too straight forward, you literally asked her "Do you still want to have sex with me" and Lottie almost choked on her soda can when you said that, looking at you like a deer in headlights with her mouth hang open and cheeks flushed)

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How it happened you dont know, but currently, you are once again in the same position you were days ago, you laying on your back in her bed and Lottie is on top of you with her knee in between your bare legs pressed flushed against you.

She kisses you more desperately than before, almost roughly yet still gentle, parting your lips immediately due to you opening your mouth in shock.

One of her hands that wasnt holding her weight above you went behind your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair and tugging gently to deepen the kiss even more. Lottie moans into your mouth as she bite your lip when she moves her hips against you. You could feel your heart speeding at that, like every single time Lottie makes a sound like this.

She kisses you like shes a starving woman in the dessert, her body flush against you, her fingers gripping your hair tightly yet still very gentle. Because thats Lottie, always gentle with you.

Lottie started to rock her hips against your thigh more now, in slow steady motion.

You couldnt help yourself and let a desperate moan out of your mouth at that. The feeling in your stomach grew warmer and you could feel yourself get wetter each grind and moan she made. You were certain Lottie could feel it on her knee thats between your legs, which made you whine even more at that thought in embarrassment.

Lotties hand, that was in your hair, started wandering lower, down to your chest, to your stomach right above the waistband of your underwear, exactly where you needed her the most.

"Are you sure?" Lottie asked, she wanted you to be sure you are ready for this, after all, its a big step for you and even tho she wont admit it, shes very nervous about it too. She loved you too much and would feel really bad if she felt like you are doing it only because she wanted to or because its expected from you.

"Y-yeah, im sure" You smiled at her and grabbed her hand that was resting above your hipbone and pushed it down your underwear, knowing that she would ask you few more times if you didnt do that.

When her fingers touched you, you moaned a little 'fuck' under your breath and closed your eyes. What you didnt see was how Lottie widened her eyes over how wet you actually were and how it turned into a slight smile right after that, because yeah, shes the reason you are so worked up and it stroke her ego a little bit, knowing your body reacts to her like that. It did made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Beacuse clearly your body wants her as much as your soul does.

Her touch is both confident and teasing, her movements both gentle and demanding. She takes her time, savoring the way your body responds to her, the way your breathing hitches and your hips arch involuntarily at her touch.

You shivered and you have no idea what came over you but you just straight up told Lottie to take off your underwear, and with a soft chuckle she did it. She repositioned herself back to her previous position, which was straddling one of your thighs as she went back to kiss you as her hand went back in between your legs.

You feel her slender finger gently push into your entrance after a few seconds teasing your clit (AN-i HATE that word lord help me, but a bundle of joy would fry me up if i was a reader, ANYWAY back to the story-), slowly and gently. Making you close your eyes and leave an involuntary moan as you break the kiss and tittle your head backwards against the pillow whimpering a little fuck under your breath.. shit, is this how sex feels? no wonder people like it so much, it feels so fucking good. Lottie feels so fucking good in you.

Lotties breathing against your ear quicker, clearly affected by this as well. Lottie lets out a soft moan just from the feeling of you clenching around her finger when she slipped it in. She went to your neck and continues pressing kisses to your neck, her skin buzzing with excitement that shes finally able to show you with nothing but pure love how much she loves you.

“You feel so good..” she mumbles against your throat, taking her sweet time as she pushes her finger in as deep as she can go. Lottie begins slowly pumping her finger in and out, wanting to give you the best possible experience for your first time. Even tho, she has no idea if shes doing it right. After all, you might or might not be her first girlfriend and in intimacy with a girl as well. She moves herself against your tight from time to time.

“I love you..” she mumbles against your neck, still leaving kisses there and there. Her touch is soft and loving, her body weight keeping you in place beneath her.

Shes watching your face carefully, studying your every expression to make sure that this is all okay.

“Are you okay, baby?” she mumbles against your cheek, pressing a sweet kiss here gently. “No pain or anything?”

You couldnt form words with how flustered mess you were so all you could do was nod at the firts question and shake your head with a no when she asked the second question. You didnt trust your voice at all.

She smiles at you softly, giving you a reassuring look even tho you couldnt see it due to having your eyes closed and letting the feeling Lottie is making you feel completely consume you. Carefully, she pushes another finger in, starting to slowly move them back and forth as her palm rubs against your clit. Making a delicious friction that makes your eyes roll back, but thankfully you have your eyes closed, but shit, it feels way too fucking good. All your worries leaving your brain completely and you are just consumed by the feeling of Lottie. Your girlfriend. Your sweet, caring, lovely girlfriend who loves you so damn much and you can tell based how gentle shes being with you right now.

You made a very very loud moan of her name when a second finger enters you, your body arching as your hand grabs a fistful of her hair at the back of her head pulling her face into your neck. She made a light moan at that.

“I got you..” she whispers softly against your ear, her words coming out somewhat ragged and breathless.

You just nodded again, shifting your hips a little and spreading your legs more apart, so Lottie has a better access to that amazing feeling shes slowly making you feel. As you did that, your tight that Lottie was straddling made a friction against her. Making her moan slightly at the feeling.

Lottie took that as a good sigh and increased in speed, Lotties fingers move in and out of you, still making sure she’s being gentle and not too rough.

You were a moaning and whining mess, shit NOW you fully understand why people have sex, like hello? it feels amazing, especially if you do it with the person you are so deeply in love like you are with Lottie.

Lottie smiles at the way you moan, loving that she caused those reactions. Shes looking at your face that has closed eyes and face screwed in pleasure lovingly, her expression is nothing but pure affection and love. Her heart swells at the sigh of you “I love you..” she breathes out with a whisper as she leans down and kisses you lovingly, her fingers moving with the same rhythm now.

You mumble a shaky 'i love you too' against her lips as your brain gets little too fuzzy over this whole experience. You could feel yourself getting closer. Like really fucking closer.

And Lottie could sense that based on your ragged short breath and the way you clench around her fingers more often now, so her fingers start moving even faster and slightly making her palm press against you more, still not too hard or rough. She keeps murmuring sweet nothings against your neck such as telling you that you are so beautiful, that you are perfect and how much she loves you.

She even added a little praise here and there, like

“You are so good” she basically purrs against your ear or “You are so good for me, baby”

And that was it. That send you over the edge couple second after that, Lotties soft deep voice praising you. You felt your body stiffen, your brain going completely blank, your back arching and your breath hitching in your throat as you make a shaky moan of Lotties name leaving your lips until your body goes limp. The orgasm hitting your body like a wave, the most amazing feeling you have experienced. You might shredded a tear or two due to how emotional you were, but just maybe..

She moves her head slightly, kissing your temple as she keeps her fingers moving steadily in and out, letting you ride your orgasm out. Lottie loves being gentle with you, taking it slow and making sure that you are getting exactly what you want.

After couple seconds later she pulls her fingers from you and pepper your face with kisses telling you how much she loves you and how good you were and how you did so well for her.

Oh and dont worry, Lottie had her turn too that night.

You copied exactly what Lottie did to you and it was filled with giggles and pure love as you did it the second time that night. It was perfect you could say. It wasnt serious as people tend to make it, it was carefree, filled with nothing but love and security.

If anything, you both fell more in love with eachother that night.

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Well.. lets just say that night you discovered your inner freak in you. Did you find out you have a praise kink? yes, yes you did.

Maybe later you discovered you like being choked too (👀) but one thing for sure, you were so madly in love with Lottie it was absolutely gross, you were like a lost puppy and Lottie wasnt any different, she was even worse to be honest.

All of the yellowjackets were so sick of you two (they werent, they were happy for you both, and probably jealous of your relationship because it was so fucking cute it was nauseous) they kinda clocked your shits couple days later, because you both were way too clingy and touchy with eachother more than usual, it was either Van or Nat who clocked it with 'You two had sex" it wasnt even a question but a statement and meant it as a joke and you gave it away when blushed and Lottie bit her lip. The locker room erupted in "ohhhh" and "NO FUCKING WAY!".

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well... i might come later to edit it, but now, imma leave it because my overthinking ass would change it and for fucks sake it would NOT end up well✋🏻😭 so, jn case there are mistakes, just ignore them, i will come back in a while and edit it. But i hope it WASNT that bad hihi🤞🏻

also @t-wylia i didnt forgot about you!

[bomberqueen17]

smorkles

So anyway. I don't remember when I last posted about anything and I'm not going to go look it up.

I don't start back at the farm until May 13th. My cabin has no electricity currently but there is apparently a trench being dug, and it will contain both a real electrical line (not a duct-taped extension cord!) and a water line??? of some kind??? with actual potable water??? sounds fake but ok.

but I am going to, not quite the farm, this week, leaving tomorrow. And i am going to stay with my middle-little sister. Because her housemate moved out, and her house needs some renovations, and now she's thinking she needs to sell that house and downsize to a smaller one, and that's all fine but like the main thing she needs to do is to get rid of like 3/4 of the objects she owns, and i say this from a place of I also have to get rid of like 3/4 of the objects I own and I dont' know how to do it or how to make her do it either and hate the entire concept of the process. But hey. There it is.

I am bringing her a kitchen table and a whole-ass tree that was rescued from dude's work office but is too tall for our ceilings. she has higher ceilings. we'll see how this goes.

i feel like i should be sort of retrospecting on what i did this off-season. right? like my life is in two annual chunks: farm work season, and not farm work season. Farm work season is usually April-ish through the beginning of December. And then since the beginning of December I've been doing Not Farm Work and I have no idea if I've achieved any of those goals. Did I set goals? IDK.

I did want to get my ADHD shit sorted out. So I started seeing a therapist. And she's admitted she's like, for short-term stuff, and needs to get me passed along to more of a specialist type person maybe. IDK. I've been told to form habits, told to buy a notebook to turn my life around with, and in other doses been fed things that i have largely seen before because i have been living like this for like, 40 years.

anyway. and also i tried all the basic meds, everything's "here try this and see what it does" dosages have given me negative side effects and no good effects, so if I want to continue trying to medicate myself I need to actually have a psychiatrist who I can ask questions of and get a response faster than two weeks. (That's how long it took to hear back on whether I could stop taking atomoxetine when it started giving me really bad anhedonia. Thankfully i had already figured that out on my own twelve days before, because i could not have lived like that for those twelve additional days, it was really bad. also he was like "and discontinue wellbutrin" my friend i discontinued wellbutrin in 2014 so i'm not sure who this was addressed to.)

but. yesterday's conversation, the therapist was going on about different things-- I had been given a rundown by a friend about the different types of behavioral therapy that existed, and how some of those might be more useful in trying to make concrete improvements in one's life, and my person was like "the thing is most of those are just fancy names for stuff you've largely already encountered so there is not going to be a magic technique that fixes you" and it's like

the thing is when have i ever said "find magic technique/drug that fixes me" is a therapy goal? That's not my goal. My goal is explicitly "figure out better coping mechanisms than what I have because brute-forcing normality for as long as I can and then feeling real shitty when I can't anymore isn't very sustainable", and no, I don't think that ACT or DBT is going to magically fix me, but if I can find more tools through a coordinated approach, wouldn't that be good?

What i can say is that so far using a lot of CBT-lite language and making lists has actually given me a borderline-pathological avoidance of my Special Notebook, in which i can no longer write but i do still carry it everywhere like a talisman (it's very useful. not), so I'm writing essays on discarded envelopes because I can't even use The Good Scrap Paper for this, when I tell you I've scarred myself trying to figure out how to make a fucking to-do list I'm not exaggerating.

So I have an essay written on an envelope from which i'm trying to extract, like, a thematic through-line to guide me in what to do next, and then a bunch of witterings in a discord convo, and I wrote a list of things I want to bring, and I did go move some furniture just now so I can get that table out of my house at some point.

Anyway, though, mid-conversation, the therapist was like, "have you ever heard of smorkles?" and i was like "i'm -- what? smorkles?" and she was excited and was like "oh this one will be so good for you!" and i was like "Sporkles? Smorkles? I'm not sure i"m hearing you, can you spell that" and she proceeded to spell out the word "smart" which

yes I do know about SMART goals actually, they are a management technique from the 80s that my dude uses extensively in his job as a staff engineer (which is like management but not quite) in his very corporate job at a very large software company, and he had laid out the criteria for me very earnestly once on a walk. so i do in fact know about them but not how to really apply that to my own life, and would need to figure out how to break that down, and i need a lot more steps than 'find a pen' and 'buy The Notebook That's Gonna Turn Your Life Around' to make that work.

but anyway.

i've decided now that smorkles are my new technique. and yes also smart goals but I think I'm going to call it "smorkles" because then I can make memes about my commitment to smorkle motion etc.

i need to figure out what SMORKLE is an anagram for. er, not anagram. the other thing.

[el-bibi]

Off limits (last part)│Mick Schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x ocon!reader

word count: 716

A/N: hi everyone! this is the last part on this story, I know it's pretty short, I promise I'll get better with writing. I hope you've liked reading it as much as I liked writing it and thank you against for all the likes!

part one │part two

taglist: @1-of-my-many-obsessions

It had been the little things. The way she tucked her hair behind one ear when she was thinking. The way her laughter cut through a quiet room like light through fog. She wasn’t a fling. He knew that. That was what made it worse.

Angela had grown tired, tired of being treated like a kid. She was twenty four, for God's sake. She had grown up watching boys tiptoe around her because of who her brother was. Nobody looked directly at her. Not for long. Nobody, except Mick.

He saw her. Really saw her.

She caught him watching her while she read on the couch, the firelight dancing across her face. She didn’t look away. Didn’t blush. There was a quiet conversation there, unspoken but understood. The ache of a question they were both afraid to ask out loud.

And Esteban? He had started to notice. Too late.

One night, after the others had gone to sleep, Angela and Mick walked into the kitchen, both their bodies still shaking from the walk outside they had taken. They had gotten closer in the last few days, they had accepted their feelings and decided to give it a try.

"Stop!" She giggled, trying to make some tea as Mick stood behind her, nuzzling his head into her neck. He turned her around and shushed her with a kiss, his cold hands sliding under her sweater and making her shiver. They were having fun, until… Footsteps.

They froze.

Esteban stood in the hallway, jaw clenched, eyes wide. He was in pajama pants and an old hoodie, but there was nothing sleepy about him.

"You're coming in late again," he said, voice tight. "Another walk in the snow?"

Neither of them said anything.

His gaze moved between them, sharp and quick, like glass breaking. "You're like a brother to me, man, how long has this been going on?"

Mick opened his mouth, but it was Angela who answered.

"I'm not a kid, Esteban," she said, stepping forward. "I know what I want."

Esteban laughed, the sound was harsh, bitter. "This isn't about you not being a kid. This is about him. About trust."

"It wasn't planned. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Mick said, pulling away from Angela.

"Except it did happen."

Angela crossed her arms. "You’re acting like I don’t have a say in this."

"I’m acting like my best friend is sneaking around with my sister!" Esteban's voice cracked, rough with betrayal. "You could’ve told me. Both of you."

"We were trying to protect you," Mick said quietly.

Angela’s voice stayed steady. "We were trying to figure it out. Without your shadow hanging over everything."

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The fire popped in the background. The snow kept falling.

Finally, Esteban exhaled. "I need some air," he muttered, grabbing his coat and stepping out into the cold.

Angela sank into a chair. Mick sat beside her, his hand brushing against hers.

"Maybe we ruined everything," he said.

"Maybe. Or maybe this was just the truth coming out."

They didn’t touch. Not really. But their hands stayed close, knuckles barely grazing, like a promise.

Breakfast was awkward the following morning to say the least. When Esteban got downstairs with Flavy, the other couple was goofing around, giggling and stealing kisses. However, it all died down when they saw Esteban.

"I can't pretend I'm okay with this. Not yet." He looked at Mick. "But if this is real, really real, you better not screw it up."

Mick nodded. "I won't."

Angela just looked at her brother. "You don't have to like it. You just have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

Esteban gave her a tired smile, something between defeat and acceptance. "You always did grow up faster than I was ready for."

She reached for him, and for a moment, they stood in the kitchen, siblings again. 

"If he makes you happy, I guess I can't take him away from you." He said, hugging her and nodding gratefully at Mick. 

He would have never expected for his best friend and his little sister to get together, but there they were. And there wasn't really much he could do about it, as long as they were both happy.

The end.

[lura-valentine]

Hi, sweetheart 😘 I'm not sure if you're currently taking requests, but if you are, I'd really love and appreciate something comforting. I had a really painful tooth removal this evening, and I’m still not feeling quite right — physically or emotionally. I also saw that someone had asked for Kaji and Haru, which gave me an idea. Would it be okay if I requested something with the two of them together? Just spending time, being soft and sweet with each other, the way teenagers in love are. I’d really love to see them just enjoying one another’s company — gentle, warm, and full of quiet affection. Thank you in advance 🌸

Catch me, Blue~♡

MHA / BNHA random AU OC-Story

Kaji and Haru

Son of Dabi, daughter of Shigaraki

With the exception of Kaji and Haruki, all characters belong to Kōhei Horikoshi

➡️ click for Kaji's profil

➡️ click for Haruki's profil (W.I.P)

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes

Author's Note:

I don't usually like writing exclusively about OCs. The reason for this is that without the characters of the manga/anime, it no longer feels like that world. No Dabi, no Shigaraki, no Hawks, but names that only the people who read my blog know, and I don't want that.

However, this is a small exception because my @doumadono is suffering right now and I just want to do her this favor. I hope you feel better soon, sweetie❤️

The evening hung heavy and warm over the city, as if the sky itself had held its breath. In the light of the flickering streetlamps, the small park seemed stuck in time, its playground equipment casting long, distorted shadows on the damp ground, while the distant roar of cars mingled with the chirping of crickets. There was a hint of nostalgia between the old swings and the carousel, but also something inexplicable, a crackling that came from more than just the warm summer air.

Kaji stood with his hands in his pockets beneath a leafless chestnut tree, his gaze half-obscured by a strand of black hair that stirred at the slightest breeze. The dim lamplight refracted off the white strand that ran through his hair like a glowing promise, while his turquoise-blue eyes followed Haru – or rather, glued to her.

She moved with the casual elegance of a cat whose territory no one questioned. Her white hair fell over her shoulders like a veil, shining like silk in the pale light, while her red eyes sparkled with life – and there was something innocent in them that didn't quite fit her last name.

"Kaji, how about a game? Catch me if you can," she breathed with a smile that was tantalizingly gentle, as if the world were no longer dangerous for that moment.

She turned around, letting him catch just the faintest glimpse of her gaze, then she ran off, not exactly fast, more prancing, teasing, the sound of her footsteps on the sand like a timekeeper. Kaji raised an eyebrow, slowly, as if he were deliberately delaying each movement, then he exhaled softly through his nose and began to follow her, his steps silent and controlled – like a predator stalking its prey.

Haru giggled softly as she reached the spiral slide, placing a hand on the cool metal that crackled almost softly under her touch. She pulled herself up in one fluid motion, half-turned, and looked back over her shoulder, her gaze a silent challenge.

"Come on, Blue... you're usually faster."

Kaji stopped briefly, his wings fluttering slightly; a gust of wind caused them to unfold subtly, but he left them unused. Instead, he reached for one of the metal supports, a glow in his eyes now slowly turning into a ember.

"You want to play, Haru?" His voice was deep, almost hoarse, laced with an underlying laugh. "I could catch you... and then you'd be mine."

"Oh, now I'm scared," came from her lips, dripping with mock shock, while she could barely suppress a laugh that felt like warm summer rain – light, fleeting, yet carried with a seductive undertone that ran deeper than she wanted to admit.

She had already climbed a good distance up the spiral slide, whose structure resembled a bizarre, twisted jungle gym more than an actual slide. Her fingers glided confidently from bar to bar, each movement accompanied by a slight tension that spread all the way to her shoulders.

Kaji followed her with a calmness that didn't match his hunting instinct, but when she half-turned, he was suddenly there – not behind her, but opposite her, on the other side of the bars that stretched between them like a spider's web. Their eyes met, the air crackled, not just from the approaching storm that thundered somewhere in the distance.

His gaze had darkened, concentrated, and the hint of a smirk appeared on his face as he reached for one of the upper crossbars, his body pressed tightly against the metal, his muscles tensed beneath the black fabric of his shirt.

"If I had climbed right behind you..." His voice was a weighted whisper, a dark timbre that pushed between the bars like smoke. "...then I'd have you by now."

Haru blinked, her lips parting in a smile that was brief and quiet, almost like a secret answer. Then she stretched forward, her fingers curled around a crossbar, pushing herself a bit through the narrow bars until her face was barely an arm's length from his. Her red eyes sparkled, her voice a mere whisper.

"But you didn't," she said, and before he could react, she leaned forward, briefly touching his lips with hers, like a shadow, like a promise just true enough to burn more than soothe.

Then she was gone again, pulling herself further up, her legs deftly between the bars, the fabric of her skirt riding up a bit, but she didn't care – she wanted to be seen, felt, and wanted.

Kaji remained still for a moment, his eyes following her, and something inside him tensed, deeper than muscle, darker than desire.

His gaze was fixed on her silhouette, the way her movements transformed into a play of light and shadow in the dim lighting, the way her shoulders tensed as she pulled herself up onto one of the upper poles, the way the fabric of her skirt slid gently over her thighs, a little higher with each climb, promising a little more than he wanted to bear.

Kaji began moving again, smoothly, but noticeably faster now, his fingers gripping the cold metal with a certainty that showed he wouldn't let her escape. Beneath his palms, the metal seemed to tremble, not from the wind, but from something deeper, rising within him like an urgent current that could no longer be contained.

Haru was just a few poles away from the highest platform, her fingers gliding over the metal, her breathing quickening, not just from the climbing, but from the certainty that he was behind her. Noticeably close, almost tangible, his shadow beneath her.

When she reached the top, she stood up, a gust of wind blew through her hair, making the white strands dance like loose silk ribbons as she gasped for breath – not from exhaustion, but from excited anticipation.

Then she heard him.

A faint noise that began metallically, then abruptly stopped –silence– and the next moment, a dark beat of wings, barely audible, more sensed than heard.

And there he was.

With predatory elegance, he landed on the narrow surface next to her, his wings closing behind him like silent shadows. He stood close, too close, his presence like a wave rolling over her, warm and demanding, and as he pressed himself against her, close, almost hungry, she felt his breath on her temple.

"Got you," he murmured, harsh, deep, and she closed her eyes for a moment, lost in the density of his voice.

Haru sank against him, soft, familiar, and her forehead rested on his chest, while his arms wrapped around her, as if this was exactly what he wanted – not the kiss, not the game, but this moment when they wouldn't separate again.

"That was close," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her fingers gliding gently over the fabric of his shirt, searching for his closeness.

"You wanted me to catch you."

"Yes..." She raised her head, her red eyes met his, open, calm, and then she smiled. Not teasingly this time, but genuinely.

A smile crept across his lips, slowly, as if born from deep within his chest, from where something stirred that he didn't want to name because it was too precious to be spoken aloud. The sky above them had opened, as if pushed aside by an invisible hand, and in that open expanse sat the full moon. Silvery, majestic, with an almost impudent clarity, as if it knew exactly what was happening between them.

"Turn around," Kaji murmured against her forehead, his voice gentle, no longer hunting, but almost reverent.

Haru frowned slightly, but allowed herself to be led, turning, her back now against his chest, his arms still around her, loose and protective. Her eyes followed his gaze, and then she froze for a heartbeat that felt like a breath too long.

Before them, hidden among the trees, lay a small lake. The moonlight fell on it like silver oil, liquid light that made every wave, every movement, sparkle. The wind had died down, making the surface of the water seem almost perfectly calm, like a dream into which no one but them was allowed to enter.

Tiny dots began to glow among the grasses on the shore – fireflies, one after the other, a flickering whisper of light that soon settled over the darkness like a living veil. They danced as if they were searching for each other and touching each other – fleeting beings surrendering to the moment, unafraid of passing.

Haru held her breath.

"How...?" she began, but her voice trailed off, lost between wonder and touch.

"I discovered it a few days ago. While training," Kaji said softly, his chin now resting on her shoulder, his words brushing her ear. "I saved it for a special moment."

Her fingers gently reached for his, encircling them, and in that grip lay something unsaid, something that pulsed between heartbeats, not with words, but with the silence between them.

"You're cornier than I thought," she finally whispered with a crooked smile, but her cheeks were flushed, her voice soft.

"Don't say it so loudly," he replied, chuckling as he snuggled closer to her. "I have a reputation to lose."

"Not with me."

My moral supporters

@tiny-roki-todoroki | @alexandhisstuff | @doumadono | @unhinged-bratty-boy | @within-eyesight | @hiding-inner-dabi

I mention accounts that my works ❤️ and 🔄. If anyone no longer wishes to be mentioned, please let me know.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

June Writing Wishlist

Finish something for each of the unfinished Chesterton Challenge prompts (current plans are for two pieces of flash fiction, a bit of Arateph worldbuilding, and two scenes from Shadowstruck)

Write at least 10,000 words of a single project (or, possibly, divide it up between two shorter retellings)

[truecorvid]

i didn't think the leopards would eat my face!!!!!!!!!!!! (all of my professors cancelling classes in solidarity with the student union strike)

[sukunasweetheart]

the tiger and his milk! 🐯

in this world, a certain tiger hybrid male keeps a keen eye on a cow hybrid female next door...

warnings; female reader, inaccurate?omegaverse, lactation without pregnancy, animal-human hybrid AU (but theyre more human than animal tbh just imagine them with ears and a tail), heat and rut, breeding, alcohol as aphrodisiac, bullying of the cervix, tit sucking, nipple teasing, biting, dry humping, overstimulation, sexual frustration, neighbours-with-benefits, knotting, f!masturbation, lots of cum, this is straight up just a hxntai oop

word count; 6.5k

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto

do NOT expect a serious and well-paced writing from this one, i was horny and the end result is just.... this. sorry not sorry, I AM WARNING YALL; this is one degenerate ass fic also forgive me for any inaccuracies in any of the tropes i used, i just cherry picked the parts i wanted and mixed it all together so...

moving to this new neighborhood hasn't been all too easy for you.

being a little low on money aside, there's a certain rambunctious neighbour who won't leave you alone. he playfully terrorises you with threats to eat you up, and makes comments that all go straight to your head, making you feel weak and flustered, leading you to cower beneath him. though you should firmly tell him to cut it out, you struggle to do this when you’re dealing with someone who could be a natural predator of yours, had you been an actual sow and not a hybrid. 

that, and also-

strangely, there's a part of you that doesn't despise the way he treats you. in fact, when you see his large, brutish hands and the veins that run up his arms, you feel yourself squeezing your thighs together. you brush it off as it being a result of your apparent loneliness and sexual frustration. there's nothing good that'd come out from being with such a discourteous man.

setting that aside... there are numerous other problems that you've been having to deal with, recently.

your breasts have been collecting milk faster, and much more than usual, recently.

even for cow hybrids, milk should only be produced when the female is pregnant, and for only a year or two at most after giving birth. for some unknown reason, you produce it all year round, even without needing to have children. doctor after doctor you've visited, and all they've told you is that you're a strange anomaly. there is nothing you can do about it except extract it every now and then, to relieve the pain and swelling.

tonight, that is what you're planning on busying yourself with, once you get home from your shitty office job.

walking towards your porch with a deep sigh, you hear a deep voice call out to you.

"bad day at work, dollface?" your terrible neighbour-- sukuna, he's called, asks you with a cigarette in his hand dressed in jeans and a black tanktop. his tail swishes playfully behind him.

dollface. one of the few nicknames he uses condescendingly to refer to you. it's either dollface, doll, or sweetheart, and you don't recall ever hearing him actually use your name.

"um, work was alright... thank you for asking. have a good evening."

you like to make things short and stop any further conversation from happening, even though it might come off as a little awkward. one of sukuna's ears flick at your dry response, but he doesn't seem to bother you any further as you hurriedly unlock your front door and head inside.

sukuna drops his cigarette bud on the ground, and puts out the flame by stepping on it. you're not very sociable, as per usual...

but your sweet, passing scent makes for a little growl to rise in the back of his throat. sweet milk. that's what you always smell like. how curious. how tempting.

once you're home, you immediately grab your breastmilk pump that sits beside your sink. it hasn't been too long since you last cleaned it. you unhook your bra, and grimace at the wet stains on it, from leaking bit by bit throughout the day.

you press the pump up against one of your breasts and press the on button. it starts doing it's job. you sigh from relief, and watch as it fills up quite quickly. you wonder what you should do with all of it...

you stop the pump to empty it out into a glass bottle. it's a tedious process. sometimes... sometimes you wish you had a partner who could help you with it. sometimes, you wish someone would latch their mouth on and extract you directly-

what if he-- sukuna- did that for you? forcefully held you down and-

your eyes widen and your tail droops with shock at your own intrusive thoughts. heavens, no! you need to get yourself a partner. it's been too long. you hope you're not heading into heat already? it's not time for that yet, at least not according to your usual cycle. shaking your head as you extract the remnants of the milk from your breasts, you finish up quickly.

at least tomorrow, it will be saturday.

you'd forgotten about how overgrown the grass in your front yard had gotten. so, even though it's a saturday, and despite how you'd love to stay inside with all the curtains shut and doors locked tight... an unpleasant duty calls outside.

but despite the meticulous preparation of lathering enough sunscreen over yourself in protection against the sun's rays - the lawn mower suddenly doesn't want to heed to your calling.

your face scrunches up into a frown. darn thing.

the useless machine splutters and makes an obnoxious noise only in the beginning before giving out, no matter how many times you try to rev it back up again.

"goddamn it. you stupid thing," you mutter under your breath, crouching down to inspect it.

"need help?"

sukuna leans against the fence that is shorter than his own height, watching you with amusement. he'd been observing you for quite a few minutes by now.

"no thank you. i'm quite alright..." you respond without turning back. you know damn well whose voice that belongs to.

but does he listen? of course not! you hear the noise of the man easily bypassing the fence by elegantly hopping over it, before walking over towards you. how funny, even the fence fails to serve it's purpose in this moment.

"like that's believable. you think verbally degrading it will make it work?" sukuna snorts, coming around and shooing you away from the lawn mower.

he gives it a nice big rev, but not much happens. you smile slightly, wondering if he was going to make a fool of himself, after all that big attitude.

sukuna brings his foot against the side of the machine and gives it a hard kick. the sound startles you.

and now it's starting up nicely, and beginning to do it's job.

the man begins to mow your lawn for you, without another word. you stand around, not knowing what to do... your ears flicker as you stare at him doing your job for you. it feels odd. what is he up to?

well... no matter the hidden motive, it's true that he's doing you a huge favour. perhaps you should at least make a cold beverage for him, once he finishes with your yard. after observing him for a while, you head back inside to search for what would serve as an appropriate iced drink.

by the time you've stepped back outside, the yard is cut neatly and sukuna is in the midst of returning your lawn mower to your garage.

you silently hand him over his drink, and he takes it with a smirk.

"it's gone..." he suddenly comments.

"what's gone?" you question, with a raised eyebrow.

"that sweet smell that always surrounds you."

he proceeds to down his drink very quickly, not breaking eye contact with you. then, he starts chewing on the ice, tail swishing mischievously behind him.

"i... don't know what you mean." you cross your arms.

"hmm. playing dumb, i see. that's fine, i suppose."

you stand awkwardly with him in silence, simply listening to him crunching away on the ice. the heat from the sunlight gets more and more unbearable.

"if you're done with your drink... i think i'll start heading back inside now. thank you for your help today," you tell him politely, carefully taking your cup back from his hands.

he makes it seem like he's handing it over to you obediently, but then he tightens his grip against it when you're holding onto the glass, making you stare up at him in confusion. he pulls it back, so that you stumble closer to him.

"just letting you know. if you need any help, you can always ask me."

you're a bit nervous, but you try not to show it. does he know something? how much does he know? you feel your tail cowardly fall in between your legs. sukuna's ears give a light flick, but you don't know what that means.

"...we're neighbours, after all."

you look at him with distrust, holding onto your cup tighter. your gaze is unwavering as you meet his eyes.

"sure. i'll keep that in mind," you respond slowly.

seemingly satisfied, he lets go of your glass.

"thanks for the drink. see you."

it's a short backhanded wave he gives you, before he hops over the fence again. you narrow your eyes. just what kind of fence is this useless? can't even keep away one bad, bad man. you're not sure how much he's caught onto, but you sure hope he stops being interested in you with enough time. he easily sends odd tingles down your spine, and you don't like that one bit.

not at all...

the working part of an office job isn't actually that bad.

it's the people involved around you that makes it a living hell. nothing gets your blood pressure higher than your collusive colleagues and snobby superiors - especially the lazy ones who do everything to shove their workload onto other people.

such people are yet also, annoyingly obsessed with get-togethers and teamwork, which makes you laugh.

today is such an unlucky day, that you've been dragged off to an after-work gathering at some cheap restaurant with your shitty coworkers, all because one of them decided that they needed one.

nothing like being surrounded by a bunch of people that you hate, on a wednesday evening. you have to put on a fake smile, and remain the passive, agreeable coworker in this environment. they coerce you to drink more alcohol. you want to decline, but you feel as though you'll ruin the mood if you turn them down. you down a few pints of beer.

you can feel your breasts leaking again.

just let me go home, you think to yourself, for the fifth time in a row.

your wish is only granted after an hour or two later. you're still sober, maybe a little tipsy, seeing as you can feel the heat in your face from the alcohol. your body is probably not taking it very well today.

the first thing you do when you get home is washing your hands and settling down with your little trusty pump. when you undo your bra, you sigh in relief as your chest feels free. and also...

it's probably the alcohol acting as an aphrodisiac - you're a bit more sensitive tonight. you caress the swell of your breast and groan, your horniness overriding how tired you are. your other hand wanders down your panties, and your ears droop down.

you purse your lips together and let your fingers work against your clit for an orgasm that you know will be unsatisfactory, but you chase after such pleasure regardless. your breaths quicken, and you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. nearly there...

just when you were about to reach your first high of the night, a firm knock is heard from your door. just your luck. a ruined orgasm.

who can it be, at this time of the evening? you throw on a cardigan that just barely covers you up, and boldly stomp towards the door, irritated. you could give this person just about any piece of your mind.

but when you open the door, you're met with your most cunning and bothersome of a neighbour, sukuna. maybe it's because you're hornier than ever right now - you feel as though he looks even...hotter, tonight. his scent makes you dizzy.

sukuna had come by because he needed an ingredient for his dinner.

he wasn't expecting to be met with the eye candy that is your slightly disheveled self, with one hand keeping your loose cardigan together, while you're very obviously braless, judging by your nipples jutting out against the fabric. that, and the thick smell of your arousal that hit him right when the door had opened.

"wh-what do you want?" you ask, a little breathless, trying to keep it together.

sukuna looks down at you, trying to keep himself calm. this seems amusing. he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from tenting his pants soon, if he stays around you longer...

"you look like you were busy with something... sorry to interrupt," he voices slyly, his fangs showing when he smiles.

"just... get on with it, please," you frown, your legs squeezing together. you can never tell what he's thinking - whether he knows everything or if he's pretending to know everything.

"nothing much, just ran out of salt at home. could i get some of yours?" sukuna shrugs innocently, holding up his empty salt jar.

"hold on a second."

you turn around to button your cardigan up with a sigh of annoyance, and you tell him to come in while you grab your salt from the kitchen.

once sukuna steps inside, he observes a million details at once. the very first thing he sees is your little pump that you'd forgotten to put away there. there's no way that puny thing is enough for you, is it?

in your kitchen, you grab your jar of salt, and attempt to open the thing - but your arms feel like jelly at the moment. you grit your teeth and try harder, cursing at yourself for shutting it so tight the last time you used it. you begin to strain your arms further. sukuna marvels at this excellent opportunity he is granted.

your feelings of irritation are whisked away when a pair of hands gently land on top of yours, against the jar. his fingertips reach the lid through the gaps between your own fingers. you feel the bigger man's body warmth, when he comes around from behind. it makes you feel so weak. your tail is hanging off to the side, raised high.

sukuna applies a bit of pressure, and the jar comes off easily. you note how warm his large hands feel.

"i came here for the salt, but now i'm thinking maybe i won't need it anymore..." he whispers down at you. your ears can't help but flicker from his voice.

"what... do you mean by that?" you ask, not knowing what to think.

he guides your hands to put the salt down on the counter. and then his body presses up against yours a little harder. you can feel his growing boner against your behind, and you feel lightheaded. sukuna peers down longingly at the exposed side of your neck.

your pheromones mix with his, and his fluffy tail curls around your leg, almost possessively. sukuna's hands are still holding onto yours, and you feel your breaths get more laboured by the tension.

"i promised to lend my help, didn't i? c'mon..." he coaxes, speaking closely so that his breath grazes against the skin of your neck.

you feel yourself starting to sweat a little more - his body heat is just too much. your chest is uncomfortably full, and the thought of someone sucking on your sensitive nipples is enough for you to finally cave in, and play the fool for the night.

you break free from his grasp for a moment, and hesitatingly point to your couch.

"...sit. it's probably easier on the couch," you tell him, not looking his way. and now you're even shoving him towards it, impatiently.

"my, how demanding," he comments teasingly. he knows you purposefully broke the tension - to prevent him from taking the lead. but he obediently takes a seat on your couch. following that, you awkwardly mount him and sit on his lap.

sukuna watches with a softer smirk as you unbutton yourself again, revealing your leaky breasts with a flustered look on your face. sukuna's hit with that familiar sweet scent that's always been floating around you all this time - but now, it's right in front of him, in full force. it makes his mouth water. he was right about you lactating.

"....go ahead," you tell him shamelessly, yet still sorely embarrassed, cheeks feeling so warm that you're concerned you might pass out. "just be gentle," you warn him, looking at him with a little hesitation and pursed lips.

sukuna feels his cock twitch against you, and he wonders if you can feel it too, from the way you're sitting right on it. his own face feels quite flushed - any man would be the same if they were in his position. such a pretty thing in his lap, willingly undoing her buttons for him. he's never seen tits more beautiful than yours.

"hurry-" you breathe out, impatient, and moreover, shy from the way he's shamelessly admiring your face and chest with a dumb smirk plastered on his face.

not even a millisecond after you say it, he puts his searing hot mouth around one of your nipples. your brain ceases to function as a zap runs through your body, and you whine without meaning to, your back arching. though you grab at his shoulder, your other hand claps over your own mouth to muffle your moans.

the suction of his mouth does wonders for pleasure, nothing like the dull feeling that your mechanic pump gives. you hear his throaty growls as he sucks on your nipple, getting a mouthful of the taste of your sweet milk. you shudder on top of him, becoming pliant with his touch.

sukuna bathes in your warmth and the softness of your breasts, enjoying how he is able to breathe in your scent from this close. your milk isn't like anything he's ever had before. not too sweet and yet not bland - a taste that is unique to you...

his other hand squeezes your other nipple, making sure it isn't too lonely from his touch. you jerk your hips against him, whole body twitching from the pleasure, the joy of having your tits milked by someone else rather than yourself. you can't hold your moans back any longer.

"fuck... oh please..." you mumble, feeling your breast being drained of it's milk.

he stops sucking for a moment, and you see the beautiful but subtle blush on his cheeks, as he looks up at you like he's intoxicated. he lets his tongue out and flicks it up and down your erect nipple, rolling it around the areola. it makes you whimper and tremble in his lap.

"don't... tease me..." you say through gritted teeth, frowning at him while he merely chuckles at your reaction.

sukuna attaches his mouth to your other breast, as it's leaking so much - as if to beg him to drain it next.

your cunt is pulsing so bad, and you feel yourself drenching your panties already. you subconsciously grind down against him and his obvious boner, trying to relieve yourself, desperate to reach a proper orgasm this time. both of you are in a lusty haze, unconcentrated eyes, you're lost in pleasure and he's lost in the taste of you, your breast milk dripping down his chin as he messily gulps down with greed.

sukuna also bucks his hips up against you, cock straining in his pants - god, he's so hard that it hurts. when was the last time he's felt such a way? he breathlessly sucks and slurps everything out of you, feeling the milk pass down his throat and into his stomach. he could drink this shit forever.

he wants to cum. he's gonna fucking cum. into his pants no less, like a damn virgin. with the way you're rolling your hips around and grinding down on him like a whore, its only a matter of time.

"haah... sukuna... more- do it more," you plead, relishing in the pleasure of having your tits taken care of, while you get yourself off on his very obvious erection - rubbing your clothed cunt against him. it feels so good on your sensitive clit, you're gonna lose your damn mind.

sukuna doesn't pry his lips away from your nipple, but his hands come off your breasts - you feel his arms wrap around your waist instead, holding you down against him tightly, guiding your hips and helping himself dry hump you harder while his face is still all up in your tits.

your breathing quickens even further, and you grab fistfuls of his shirt on his back, shutting your eyes in anticipation-- before letting your orgasm crash over you completely. you gasp as your clit throbs intensely, and you feel slick leaking all over in your panties as you ride your climax out against sukuna's hard cock, shuddering as you do so.

sukuna groans with his mouth still on your breast, his orgasm coming a little later than yours, dick twitching as rope after rope of his cum soils his boxers, hips bucking up into you without control - it feels so restricted in his shorts, and he desperately wants to take it out. his lips finally leave your swollen nipple with a little pop sound. his large hands come to grope the soft flesh as he comes off his high, a dull throb ringing in his cock, one orgasm being far from enough.

"look at you, rubbing your cunt all over my cock to get yourself off, like a proper slut. aren't you a little too eager?" he teases breathlessly, with a weak smirk on his face.

"you're the one... that came onto me so strongly..." you pant, drunk from the waves of pleasure you just received, and from the endless twitching of sukuna's giant cock... he's still hard.

"just admit that you're perverted. arguably, even worse than what i am," sukuna mocks, pinching at your nipples, making you wince.

"shut up, you."

in the spur of the moment, you lift your hips up slightly to shove your hand down his pants to take his dick out due to irritation. sukuna gives the slightest flinch from the sensation of your hand, grabbing onto his now bare erection.

you begin to fiercely jerk him off with a frown on your face, wanting to punish him for his comments a few seconds ago, knowing he's still sensitive from his recent orgasm.

"fuck-! what're you-" he cuts his own voice off with a choked off gasp due to the tight grip of your hand against his twitching cock. he's back to bucking his hips again as you pump up and down with both hands, his dick already being lathered with his own cum making it easier for you. the noises that come out of him almost fills you with pride - and also surprise. you'd never thought that someone like him would ever moan in this way... you jerk him off faster, and a little harder, being fixated on his pretty looking cock that keeps jumping in your hands.

"shit! that's- enough-" sukuna gasps again, chest heaving and whole body jerking, but oddly, not attempting to stop you at all.

you watch in awe, as his cock spurts out several strings of white cum once again, his head tilted back with deep groans, dick pulsing - your hands keep away from it for the first few seconds just to observe, but then you help to milk it dry, grabbing his base and slowly stroking up and down. he shudders from your touch, and the sight of him being so sorely sensitive makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy again.

he really does cum a shit ton. it goes for what seems to be like ages, never ending pulses of his cock and rope after rope tainting your hands, and his own stomach. the way he shivers before you, how captivating his groans sound, it all makes you want to do it all over again.

you slowly rub his tip against your palm, playing with his dick as if it were a toy - but this time, he grabs your wrist to stop you.

"enough..." he says with a low voice - and the look that he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

he's beginning to smell a bit different. its not like before. and it's getting thicker by the second...

"ah, fuck.... i'm in rut," sukuna admits with a scowl, and a flushed face.

the realisation hits you like a truck.

"look at what you've done," sukuna growls as he grabs your hips and pushes you closer towards him, his cock impossibly harder. he's breathing heavily, and you see the precum that's gathering on his tip. he won't be able to hold himself back much longer, and you know it.

and curse the omega in you - you're unable to resist him, and you can feel yourself syncing with his rut, a strange swoop occurring in your stomach. his strong pheromones make you lightheaded and feverish, instigating your submissive side as you become obedient - sitting on his lap with an eager shine in your eyes, breathing heavy from his strong scent and your desire to be dominated.

you want to have your brains fucked out. you can't take it anymore.

as if reading your mind, sukuna lunges forward and practically throws you onto your back on your couch - you let out a yelp and watch as he pulls your shorts and panties down and casts them aside, stripping you completely. you feel so vulnerable, but his intense strength and desperation is only adding to your arousal.

he pushes your knees up and rubs his cock up against your clit, and puckering hole.

"look at all this slick. you want me that bad huh?" sukuna remarks darkly, sweat gathering on his temples.

you grit your teeth, fighting the urge to give him a meek response - having the strange desire to provoke and set him off until the end.

"you're the desperate one here..." you tell him breathlessly, sensing how his dick is practically begging to be inside you, with the way it twitches on your cunt.

your blood runs cold for a second, when you see the way he looks down at you, with a vein popping out on his forehead.

"...maybe i am," he relents, with a low voice, grabbing your face.

and then he leans down to shove his lips against yours, while thrusting his cock into you at the same time.

you whimper into the kiss as his tip hits your womb like nothing. you'd ignored how massive he was at the start, but now it's impossible to brush off.

"t-too big..." you mumble when he breaks away from your lips.

sukuna groans as he drags his cock in and out of your sopping cunt, practically holding him in an iron grip from the suction. your endless amount of slick coats his dick with plenty of lubricant to fuck you more easily.

"you can take it, doll. i'll make you take it..."

his eyes dilate as he begins to piston his hips at a fast but uneven pace, groaning shamelessly as his cock ravishes your pussy by hitting all the right places, heavy balls smacking against your ass with every thrust. the pleasure runs through your veins like electricity, and you feel high off the feeling of someone so big and strong using you like you were his fleshlight - to relieve his rut.

you can barely breathe from the way he pounds you, relentlessly pushing you to the limit, tears forming in your eyes and high pitched moans coming from your throat.

"ohh-! sukuna... oh, please please please..." you plead, almost sobbing.

he responds by leaning down to lather his tongue against your scent glands, sucking on them and rest of the skin on your neck. you shudder and let out another set of whimpers - and sukuna's fangs feel antsy, wanting to sink them into your flesh.

sukuna aims for the sweetness from your breasts, to distract himself. you cry out as he roughly latches onto your nipple and begins to suck as he squeezes your soft flesh. his cock feels like it's about to burst.

when he stimulates your nipples a certain way and his tip grazes your g-spot at the same time, you're hit with an orgasm that makes you squeal and has your cunt fluttering uncontrollably.

his dick gives in to the sudden milkings of your pussy and sukuna pushes his hips to settle himself into you as deep as he can - giving a choked off groan from the sudden climax as his cock swells up inside of you, anchoring itself.

the knowledge of him knotting you doesn't seem to matter as you enjoy the feeling of the warm gush of his cum pouring into your womb, his balls clenching with every rope that spurts out, messily coating your walls with white.

sukuna pants so heavily above you, abs flexing as he continues to orgasm in your warm cunt that still has a dull pulse from your previous climax. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck with a soft growl, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

your breathing relaxes as you lay still on the couch while sukuna weighs you down and breeds you properly, consequences be damned. you could try and fight him off, but it's been so long since you've been so sexually satisfied that your logical thinking has turned itself off. all you want to do is enjoy bathing in the pheromones of your alpha and let the heaviness of his large body drape over yours as he pumps you full of his babies.

sukuna is usually very careful about who he's around when he's in a rut - and he's always made sure either he or his partner had some sort of protection on before doing anything. he wouldn't want to go around having kids with the wrong people. it's hard to say whether you're wrong or right for him - he doesn't know much about you to judge yet...

but you make him feel so right.

and he's still fighting off the urge to mark you to make you officially his, with drool beginning to run down his chin. his fangs are making it unbearable; he needs to bite something right now.

"you look restless..." you tell him, getting him to tear his gaze away from your neck, to your face instead.

you pull him in for a messy kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth. he feels the way you brush over his fangs, paying extra attention to them as you make out with him, and it makes him groan. you must have done this with someone else before. sukuna nips at your tongue and lower lip, doing his best not to break skin - trying to relieve himself of the urge to bite.

the swell of his knot is gradually subsiding, but you know that the night is far from over.

"which way to your bedroom?" sukuna asks after breaking away from your kiss, breathlessly.

"farthest down the corridor, past the kitchen.." you respond, feeling a little needy after he abruptly stopped the kiss like that.

"hold onto me."

he lifts you up easily with his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms over his shoulders. the display of strength makes your heartbeat quicken.

when you're laid upon the soft mattress of your bed, his lips come crashing down again - while his hips begin to give shallow thrusts, cock still hard and throbbing. sukuna kisses you like he's a man starved, and you feel as though he might actually swallow you up at this rate.

the strong grip on your hips tighten as his pace gets rougher. you have to break away to gasp and moan. every time he jostles your body, you feel his previous heavy load sloshing inside you, and it's getting too much. sukuna doesn't look like he's even entirely here, hips moving mindlessly and drool dripping down his chin - it's a terrifyingly arousing sight.

he tries to come down and kiss you again, but you have to push his face away - you're so out of breath that you're afraid you might pass out if he does that again. it's overwhelming, how his thick cock bullies itself against your walls over and over again.

sukuna doesn't seem too pleased that you're pushing him away; he holds you tighter and he adjusts his hips to fuck you deeper. you mewl loudly, but keep your hand weakly against his face - he doesn't force it away, but lets his tongue droop out, caressing your fingers with it. you feel him bite and suck on your hand as his sharp thrusts produce small bulges in your stomach.

you witness his eyes dilating again, and you swear you see hearts in them this time, your fingers still in his mouth.

his dick feels so, so good in your pussy. your intoxicating smell now surrounds him after coming into your bedroom, and it's driving him insane. he grunts above you, balls feeling heavy, dick pulsing as his tip finds its way knocking on your cervix. there's a thick ring of cream foaming on the base of his cock now, a mixed concoction of both his cum and your slick.

his thrusting gets sloppy and his hips stutter, meaning that he's going to orgasm again. sukuna's eyes roll back, as he messily "kisses" your hand, pushing himself balls deep into you at the final moment.

you arch your back at the sensation of his knot swelling up once again, cumming at this moment. sukuna almost topples over from the tightness, as the walls of your cunt flutter around his knot, effectively squeezing everything out of him.

"f-fu-uuck..." he drones, his voice dragging the curse word out.

you feel him dumping every drop into your poor womb, emptying his balls. you're afraid that you'll get addicted to this "full" feeling, the warmth of his seed filling you up, the way your insides can feel his cock twitch violently with every thick string of cum he shoots out. you never imagined being held down and inseminated would feel this good.

sukuna's eyes are half-lidded, pleasure continuing to run up and down his spine. he pins your wrist down against the bed suddenly, and latches his mouth to one of your breasts - beginning to suck immediately, like he's trying to rehydrate himself with your milk. you shudder. it seems as though he's doing nothing but take, take, and take from your body... not that you'll stop him from doing so.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, catching your breath, slightly trembling each time he sucks a little too hard. shortly after he is seemingly content, he completely collapses his body over yours, face all up in your breasts, purring while his knot still sits inside of you.

you sense that it's only the beginning of a long, long night.

once the sun has rolled into the sky, you finally remember the fact that the weekdays haven't finished yet - and that you're supposed to be getting ready for work right now.

problem is, there's a certain someone clinging to your whole body from behind, still purring against the nape of your neck with a hand lazily groping the flesh of your tit. you can feel his fluffy tail curling around yours, possessively. you're sleepy, and his stupid purring keeps coaxing you to take a nap. he's a lot more docile and softhearted than you imagined. you supposed he'd be out of your house by now.

you reach out and feel around to grab your phone, to give your workplace a call to take the day off. while you're on the phone, sukuna places soft kisses down your back. you hope your boss can't hear the excessive vibration in the background. once you're done with that, you shove your phone under your pillow.

"i need a nap... you can use my shower, or go home, whichever you prefer," you tell him sleepily, shutting your eyes.

"is sleeping next to you also an option?" he asks from behind you, snuggling up closer.

"mm," you reply mindlessly, already dozing off. he slips his arm under your head. admittedly, his arm pillow does feel comfortable.

when you next wake up in a few hours time, you don't know what to feel when you notice that he's still next to you in bed.

"finally awake?"

"yeah... i'm surprised you haven't left," you mumble, following that with a yawn.

"i'm surprised you're not chasing me out," he shoots back.

"what would be the point? i'll see you again the moment i step outside the house."

"i bet you love that. being able to see me all the time," sukuna teases, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger.

"ugh, think what you will," you roll your eyes, trying not to be flustered.

you suddenly realise how thirsty and hungry you are.

"i'm starving... i don't remember what's in the fridge," you mumble to yourself.

"hop in the shower with me and i'll take care of all your meals today," he offers, smirking.

you don't really trust his intentions - especially something as intimate as showering together - but you are famished, and you don't think you will be bothered to cook at all today.

"what meals are we thinking?" you ask, curious.

"hm. well, how about steak?"

"... is that a threat?"

sukuna bursts into laughter.

he informs you that the salt he had originally wanted from you was supposed to be for the steak he was cooking last night. who knew that he'd be having a different kind of steak that evening? you look unamused as he makes the joke between chuckles.

unsurprisingly, you do end up in the shower with him, and again, unsurprisingly, he does pay extra attention to soaping up your tits in particular, and making out with you a little here and there. but as promised, you are rewarded with possibly the best meals you've ever had since you moved to this neighbourhood.

after a bit of conversation, turns out the man is a freelance chef, which is something you would've never guessed. from first glance, he seemed like he could've been part of some gang or a shady underground business.

when you sheepishly apologise for misjudging him based on his looks, sukuna laughs once again, and tells you that he'll forgive you if you let him continue to "help you out" from here onwards...

the rest is in dot points bc im lazy!

originally, i had wanted to make this a bit more toxic but i turned it more wholesome bc i felt like ive already posted toxic stuff before this so haha...

btw you do a few pregnancy checks while sukuna is still there after that night, and it turns out negative. it's a big sigh of relief for you and while it should be the case for sukuna too, since he's never really liked the idea of having kids, for some reason there's the tiniest twinge of disappointment...

anyway - after this, their relationship turns into a weird mix between friends with benefits and ?lovers, semi slow burn

often crashing in each others beds and sharing meals, but also having periods where you won't see one another for a week or so when life gets busy

thing is, you always try and tell yourself that you'll only use him to relieve the swell in your breasts, but it's never the case. things always go out of control and you end up bouncing on his cock without thinking of the consequences.

and he can't stop himself from teasing you everytime, those tits of yours could kill a man, he swears. sukuna gets extremely touchy with them, grazing his fingertips over your nipples, groping you with your shirt still on like a lewd old man, life just feels better when he has your tit in his mouth or hands. it hardly feels like he's actually bullying you when he gets hard like a mf while doing it.

and there are moments where he blurs the line between FWB and becoming something a little more, like when he scents you before you leave his place. "...why're you scenting me?" "why not?"

there is an incident that happens in your house one time, where a huge water leak had happened while you were away at work, drenching the floorboards and things requiring a lot of fixing. you had nowhere else to stay that wasn't either a motel or some cheap sauna so sukuna offered you to sleep at his place for the time being.

it really made things between you two feel a lot more intimate and romantic, a lot of tension, especially when sleeping together without the sex and doing all the chores. both of you felt a little empty when the house maintenance was all done and you had to go back to your own place.

"but there's nowhere for you to sleep except for my bed. i'm not bothered to clean out any of the spare rooms and i don't suppose you want to sleep on the sofa for weeks straight?"

a sly method of getting you to sleep next to him.

also, this man is quite loaded with money. freelance chef popular in demand, but he only takes up jobs that he feels like doing. sometimes he'll leave his house empty for longer times because he's busy, which makes you quite lonely and confused, since he doesn't really explain to you where he's going and why a lot of the time.

when he eventually is back again, he is met with you, holding the scent of some other alpha. he finds himself feeling incredibly upset and possessive, even though he's always deemed relationships to be superficial in his life, because it limits his freedom. but he just feels so deeply unhappy about it that he ends up arguing with you

he knows it shouldn't be something he is entitled to feel angry about when he's not even properly committed to you but it's not like he's ever mingled with other omegas ever since he's met you? it just felt so unfair to him in the moment.

shortly after the argument, you end up confessing you didn't even do anything with the alpha anyway, just a boring date and one quick hug. and sukuna also explains that it was his fault in the first place, leaving and coming back without saying anything. turns out that he sometimes works as a chef in places like hotels and when he's preparing food for companies or people who live a distance away, he just spends the nights somewhere nearby for convenience.

the tension is high after both of you are finished clearing things up, and it eventually leads to sex again. he wants to get rid of that scent ASAP, whether it was from just a hug or not, he needs it GONE. and this time, he properly marks you, sinking his fangs into your scent glands like he's always ached to do.

the night ends with you two officially becoming a couple, finally haha, happy days

the end

Masterlist

[tonycries]

FIRST masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 06/02/24 up until 01/10/24 — for my recent works click on my SECOND MASTERLIST <3

Men In Uniform Do It Best!

Dirty Lil' Secrets

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Give Me Tough Love

Never Ever Seen This Before!

We Don't Have No Babies!

Like A Fever

Bad Things (To You)

Prettier When Messy!

Care For You!

Green-eyed Monster

So Lonely In My Mansion!

Kiss Me More!

Girl, I Do This Often

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Sl*t Me Out!

Match My Freak!

WAP!

R U Mine?

Hot To Go!

Girl, You Earned It!

I'm A BIG Stepper!

BODY-ODY!

SOOO ANXIOUS

Long Overdue!

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

The Family Matter?!

I-T G-I-R-L!

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

BRAT!

She's My Vitals!

Three's a Crowd (But Four...) — “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 1] [Part 2] — There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Dream A Little Dream — For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

One More? Please? — A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Hope They Catch Us — When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Unmistakably Yours — In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Madam Gojo — Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

The Heir — No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

The Call — After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy — He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 1] [Part 2] — You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid…is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Unhoneymooners!? — The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! — When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Bad Boys Bring Roses — You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

The Way You Kiss Me — The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) — Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Haunting You — A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

You'll Taste Me Too! — How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

We Neva Play! — Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Something Stupid — Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Like An Animal — Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You — When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

F*ck You! (Literally) — Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Government Hooker — With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Madam Zenin — There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Brooklyn Baby — Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Golden Boy — Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Welcome To The Itadori's! — Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

FIVE! — Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) — When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Freak On The Cam! — Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

A Million Dollar Baby! — Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Exes who...

Love Is Blind

“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Can I Fill You Up, Baby?

"Pull On It. Harder."

Little Heaven

©2025 tonycries. All work belongs to @tonycries. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes, headers, and pinned.

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[cumironi]

I’VE GOT YOU, BABY jjk men

feat. gojo geto nanami toji sukuna shiu higuruma

sum. they thought it would be a normal night. playful bickering, eat dinner together, maybe makeout session while you two are giggling like a lovesick fool. but heart cancer? stage 3? yeah, not on their bingo cards.

warning. non-sorcerer jjk men! 23 you & 31 them, established relationships, heart cancer, death mentioned, bit angst to comfort, fluff, and not very heart warming.

GOJO SATORU

he was supposed to be in meeting.

supposed to be.

but instead he was dramatically sprawled on the couch in your apartment, shirt half-buttoned, socks mismatched, one leg hanging off the edge like he was modeling for an early 2000s teen magazine. blue eyes flicked up from your coffee table, where your textbooks were open and your laptop screen glowed with your thesis draft. he had the attention span of a goldfish, and you were used to it by now. what you weren’t used to was the man pausing mid-ramble about how coffee shops should have loyalty programs that give hugs instead of free drinks, the moment you slid the envelope across the table toward him.

“what’s this? did you finally write me a love letter?” he grinned, picking it up and waving it. “wait—let me guess, you’ve confessed your undying love for my devastatingly good looks and impeccable fashion sense. i knew the mismatched socks would win you over.”

you smirked, resting your chin in your hand. “close,” you said. “just my medical results. fun lil update from my body.”

he blinked. the paper unfolded in his hands, and for once, he was quiet. his eyes moved faster than usual. you could feel the shift in the air. from playful to something dense. cold. heavy.

he read the words again.

“stage 3, heart cancer… twenty-four percent chance to live…”

“i know, right? guess my cells just got bored of behaving,” you laughed. it was too loud. too sudden. too wrong. “could be 24% chance or survival. maybe 50%. depending on how charming i am in the oncology department.”

you force a shaky laugh. “guess i must’ve loved you too much. my heart couldn’t take it.”

for a beat, there’s nothing. nothing.

it’s a joke. a bad one. a last-ditch attempt to soften the punch. your eyes betray you anyway — tears sparkle at the corners like broken glass, and the tremble in your fingers doesn’t go unnoticed.

“shut up,” he whispered. not in his usual joking way. his voice cracked at the edge, like he’d bitten into something sour and was trying not to spit it out.

you shrugged, crossing your legs like you were just talking about the weather. “i’m still hot though, right? at least if i kick the bucket, i’m going down with great cheekbones.”

“no. nope. return to sender. i don’t accept this bullshit,” he murmurs, voice cracking through the sarcasm. “you don’t get to pull the tragic heroine card on me. that’s my thing.”

you try to laugh. “so dramatic…”

“i’m the drama. not you. you’re the soft, pretty, sunshine type who cries during dog movies and hogs the bed. you’re not allowed to die. i won’t allow it. i’ll— i’ll—”

“you’ll what, kiss it better?” you tease.

“why the fuck would you joke about this?” his voice rose. panic behind the volume. the paper in his hand crumpled a little.

“because if i don’t, i’ll start crying,” you replied, softer now. looking at him with tired eyes. “and i really, really don’t wanna cry in front of you. you’d never let me live it down.”

“you idiot,” he breathed out, standing up so fast the coffee table shook. his hands were trembling. he paced once. twice. then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you like gravity had yanked him down.

“you’re not going to die,” he said. like a promise. like a threat to the universe. “i’ll fight death himself. with my sunglasses. and sarcasm. and maybe a bazooka.”

you blinked. “you don’t know that.”

he grabbed your hands, clutching them so tightly you could feel how cold his were. “you think you can drop something like this on me and then just—laugh about it? you think that’s fair? i love you, you dumbass.”

you looked down at him. this ridiculous, beautiful man kneeling like you’d just proposed marriage instead of dropped a medical bombshell.

you sniff, smile crookedly. “i love you too.”

he grins, forehead pressed to yours. “good. you’ll fit right in with the chaos i’ve got planned for your recovery. step one: we replace your heart with mine. step two: we break into a hospital and demand glitter IVs. step three: we live. got it? we’re gonna fight this. i don’t care if i have to bribe, blackmail, or bend space-time — you’re staying with me. you’re not allowed to leave.”

you choke out a laugh against his shoulder. “that’s a pretty bold threat to make to the universe.”

“you think i won’t square up with the universe?” he pulls back, eyes shining with something wild and terrified and real. “i’ll fight fate with one hand and spoon-feed you pudding with the other.”

you look at him, tears falling freely now, and he smiles — a little broken, a little soft.

“besides,” he adds, voice trembling as he kisses the corner of your mouth, “you still owe me like, twenty dates. and my hoodies back.”

he stared at you.

you smiled. a little cracked. a little crooked. “worth it.”

“i swear to god,” he growled, burying his face in your lap. “if you die, i’m haunting your ghost just to yell at you.”

you ran your fingers through his hair. soft. familiar. he was shaking. he didn’t want you to see. “you’re not going to die,” he whispered again, like if he repeated it enough times, it would rewrite your diagnosis.

“but if i do,” you said gently, voice steady for both of you, “please keep wearing mismatched socks for me. preferably ugly ones. the uglier, the better.”

he lifted his head and kissed your knuckles. then your palm. then your wrist. like he could map your pulse, hold onto it, anchor it. i’m gonna annoy every doctor on this planet if that’s what it takes,” he muttered. “i’m gonna sit in every waiting room and argue with every nurse and—”

“you’re already annoying,” you smiled, brushing tears off his cheek. “just keep being you, toru. okay?”

he choked out a laugh. a real one. raw and messy and breaking. “yeah,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “okay. but just so you know—if you think i’m gonna let you go without a fight, you’re really underestimating how stubborn i am.”

and you believed him.

because it was satoru gojo.

and he was chaos and comfort and love in human form.

GETO SUGURU

you didn’t expect him to come over tonight.

he had been buried in work lately—endless stacks of logistics and community events and trying to solve the world’s problems like he didn’t already carry the weight of it on his shoulders. so when he texted you “omw. bring that pouty face I like,” you assumed he was just being his usual flirty self. nothing serious.

you didn’t expect to be sitting on your bedroom floor in an oversized hoodie with a manila envelope on your lap, legs tucked beneath you, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you heard the familiar knock-knock-knock. two beats, then one. his rhythm.

he walked in with a drink carrier balanced in one hand and a bouquet of flowers that looked like they were arranged by a man who walked into the shop and said “whatever she’ll like, just make it look expensive.” his eyes lit up the second they saw you, and he gave you that half-lidded smile that made it look like he knew every secret about you.

“what’s with the envelope, babe?” he asked as he kicked his shoes off and slid beside you on the floor. “you trying to sue me for being too good-looking? because guilty as charged.”

you snorted. “nah, i’d win that case against gojo way faster.”

“mm, true.” he nudged your knee with his. “what is it then?”

you clear your throat and drop the letter dramatically on the floor next to him like it’s a bomb. “got a broken heart. me. officially. medically. romantically tragic.”

geto raises a brow, gaze drifting from the letter to you. “did i forget an anniversary again? that sounds serious.”

giving him a lazy smile. “worse. i’m in a love triangle with death and a statistics chart.”

you handed it over. said nothing after.

he cocked an eyebrow but took it. slid the letter out like he was opening one of your essays. started reading.

his smile dropped.

his breath caught.

and for once—suguru geto didn’t say anything.

he finished the page. eyes moving over the last line again. and again. his fingers curled around the edge of the letter so tightly it crinkled.

you felt like vomiting.

“stage 3, heart cancer,” you said lightly. like it was the weather. like you’d just found out the vending machine was out of your favorite chips. “only twenty-five percent chance of making it. which is still, like, a quarter! that’s one out of four. i’ve played worse odds at those arcade claw machines. like flipping a coin with feelings.”

“don’t—” his voice was hoarse. “don’t joke about this.”

“why not?” you forced a grin. “i thought you liked my dark humor.”

he turned to you so fast, your smile faltered.

“i do,” he said, barely a whisper. “but not when it’s hiding how scared you are.”

and that was the worst part. the way he saw through you. you looked away. bit your tongue. tried to force another joke but your throat closed up and it never made it out. “you should be crying,” he said softly. “you should be screaming. you should be throwing things or cursing god or making me carry you everywhere like a princess.”

“yeah well,” you mumbled. “you’ve always liked me better when i’m quiet.”

“don’t say that.” his hand cupped your cheek, turning your face toward him. “don’t ever say that.”

you blinked. his thumb wiped away something you didn’t realize had fallen.

“baby—”

“i’m going to be here for all of it,” he said firmly. his voice steady, even if his hands trembled. “chemo. surgeries. crying fits. mood swings. i’ll buy you every stupid snack craving you have, i’ll hold your hair back if you puke, i’ll even let satoru come over if you’re bored enough to tolerate him.”

“wow,” you said, voice thick. “must really love me if you’re willing to suffer through that.”

he laughed, but it cracked halfway through. he leaned in and kissed your forehead. your nose. your cheeks. slow. deliberate. like he was memorizing your face before the world dared to change it.

“you’re the love of my life,” he murmured against your skin. “and i don’t care what percentage the doctors give. you’re not leaving me.”

you tried to joke again. to keep it light. but when he pulled you into his arms and held you like you were made of glass and might disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough—

you broke.

and he just let you.

silent. steady. his hand rubbing circles into your back. his voice a whisper. “i’ve got you, baby. every step. every breath. we’re fighting this. together.”

NANAMI KENTO

he was never one for surprises.

nanami lived his life in clean lines and structured time—an adult in every sense of the word. the kind of man who folded his clothes before bed, who ironed your uniforms when you were too tired, who always had a clock running in his head. you were chaos in comparison. soft blankets thrown over chairs, tea mugs with lipstick smudges left by your bedside, textbooks covered in doodles. yet somehow, you and him had always fit together like an odd, unlikely pair.

tonight, he showed up exactly at 7:00 p.m.

punctual, like always.

“i brought you dinner,” he said, holding up two paper bags. “i made sure it’s from that place you like with the spicy tofu you claim doesn’t make you cry but always does.”

you smiled, opening the door wider for him. “ah, you remembered. see? you do love me.”

he gave you a flat look, setting the bags on your kitchen counter. “i tell you every day. if you need evidence beyond that, i can start writing it down in your planner.”

“ooh, planner declarations of love? sounds sexy.”

he gave a soft, almost-smile. you could tell he’d had a long day. the way he rolled his sleeves up, undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and sighed like he was finally somewhere safe. you wanted so badly to keep it peaceful. to let him enjoy one evening without—

but the envelope sat on the kitchen table. taunting you.

“ken,” you said softly, “before we eat… can you read something?”

his brow furrowed. “is this another one of your thesis drafts? i told you i am not proofreading any more literary analyses about how tragic men are secretly hot—”

“it’s not,” you said, quieter this time.

he walked over. saw the envelope. took it wordlessly.

you watched him read. nanami read carefully—line by line. never skimmed. never rushed. so it took longer. you could hear the second his breath changed. shallow. barely audible. then it stopped altogether.

he didn’t speak. didn’t ask questions. he simply folded the letter back up and set it down with precision. like it was something sacred. dangerous.

“why didn’t you call me when you got this?” he asked, voice low. serious. his control was razor sharp, but you could hear the grief pressing against his throat.

“i… didn’t want you to leave work in the middle of a meeting,” you muttered. “and i didn’t wanna cry about it either. figured i’d tell you in person. like a grown-up.”

“stage 3, heart cancer is not something you break like a casual news update,” he snapped—then immediately closed his eyes, sighing. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“it’s okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. “i figured you’d be mad.”

“i’m not mad,” he said, walking around the table toward you. “i’m terrified.”

“it’s still there,” you whispered. “it’s just… fuzzy now. like a dream i can’t quite remember when i wake up.”

you looked up at him. that composed, unshakable man. and for the first time in a long time, nanami looked lost. “you’re young,” he said, almost to himself. “you’re in college. you have plans. you talk about the future like it’s something guaranteed.”

“you really mean that?” your voice cracked.

his jaw clenched. he pulled you into his chest, his hands pressing against your back, like he could physically hold you together. you could feel how hard he was trying not to fall apart. “then i’ll remember it for you,” he said quietly. “your future. your dreams. if you forget them… i’ll carry them until you can take them back.”

“of course,” he said, resting his chin on your head. “you’re the love of my life. i didn’t choose you for convenience. i chose you because i wanted every part of your life—good and bad. if this is what we’re facing now… then we face it. together.”

you buried your face in his chest, inhaling that familiar scent of bergamot and black tea. the comfort of his heartbeat. the way he was always so steady, even when the world wasn’t.

“but just so we’re clear,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you, “you’re not going to die. not anytime soon. not before i make you my wife.”

you blinked. “wait—what?”

“i’m not proposing,” he said flatly. “not while you’re crying. but you should know… that’s where this was always headed.”

your tears doubled. “ken—”

“shh,” he kissed your temple. “we’ll talk about it after dinner. and after you stop pretending tofu doesn’t make you sob like a child.”

you laughed. you couldn’t help it.

and for the first time since getting the diagnosis, you let yourself feel safe.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji was already lounging on your couch when you got home.

shirt half unbuttoned, legs spread like he owned the place—which, okay, he kind of did at this point, considering how often he crashed here. one arm slung over the back of the couch, the other nursing a can of beer he probably picked up on the way over. he didn’t look up when you walked in, just tilted his head slightly and smirked like he could smell the anxiety radiating off you.

“you look like shit,” he said casually, eyes still on the muted TV.

“thanks, baby,” you replied, dropping your bag by the door. “your romantic side is really showing today.”

“you want romance, go read a damn poem.” he finally looked at you. eyes narrowing. “you okay?”

you shrugged and walked into the kitchen, not answering. you knew that tone in his voice. low. suspicious. the kind he only used when he felt something off and didn’t like it one bit.

you took your time. poured a glass of water. leaned against the counter. stared at the envelope in your hand like it might explode if you set it down.

“toji,” you called.

“hm?”

“can you come here?”

he groaned dramatically but stood, beer in hand, and sauntered into the kitchen. he leaned against the counter across from you, expression unreadable. he scanned your face like he was piecing something together.

you handed him the envelope without a word.

he took it. read it.

you watched every flicker of emotion pass through his face. confusion. stillness. a furrowed brow. the tightening of his jaw. and then—rage. not loud. not messy. quiet. slow-burning. the kind that sat in his chest like a bomb with no timer.

he didn’t say anything at first.

just set the envelope down and looked at you. dead in the eye.

“how long have you known?”

“just a few days.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” his voice was low. flat.

you sighed. “i didn’t want to see your face like this.”

“like what?”

“like the world ended.”

he stepped closer. his voice dropped even lower.

“you think i give a fuck about the world?” he said slowly. “i care about you. you think you can just carry this shit alone and joke your way through it? you think that’s cute?”

“i didn’t want you to panic,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze. “i didn’t want to cry. or make it real. if i said it out loud—”

“then i’ll say it for you,” he interrupted. “you have heart cancer. stage 3. twenty-four percent odds. and guess what?”

you finally looked at him.

“we’re beating the shit outta those odds.”

you blinked. “what?”

he crossed the distance between you and pulled you into him. his grip wasn’t gentle—it was grounding. like he needed to feel your heartbeat against his chest to believe you were still here.

“you’re not dying on me,” he said, voice rough. “you hear me? i’ve lost enough people. you’re not going to be one of them. i’ll chain you to the damn bed if i have to. feed you. fight the doctors. i don’t care.”

“toji—”

“nah, shut up. you’re not allowed to talk until you admit i’m right and that i’m hotter than your oncologist.”

you choked out a laugh. “okay. you’re right. you’re hotter than any man with a medical license.”

“damn straight,” he muttered, lips brushing your forehead. “we’re getting through this. and i don’t care if you lose your hair or your strength or your mind a little bit along the way. you’ll still be mine. all of you.”

you didn’t say anything. didn’t need to. you just stood there with his arms around you, the only place that felt like home when everything else felt like hell.

he kissed the side of your head and sighed. “fuck. now i gotta start acting like a responsible adult.”

“guess you better start taking your vitamins, old man.”

“if i die before you, i’m haunting your ass. every time you try to pee, i’ll slam a cabinet door.”

you burst out laughing. crying. something in between. he held you tighter.

“that’s better,” he muttered. “cry in my arms like a normal person, not in the shower like a movie heroine.”

and just like that, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you found him in the bedroom, stretched across your bed like a damn king—which, technically, he insisted he was. shirtless, as usual. arms behind his head, eyes closed, expression too calm for a man with a bloodstained past and a mouth as foul as his reputation. the room smelled faintly like sandalwood and your shampoo, which he secretly used but would never admit to.

you stood in the doorway with the envelope clenched in your hand.

“oi, sukuna.”

his eyes cracked open, one brow lazily lifting. “what, brat? come to beg for kisses or annoy me until i carry you to class again?”

you forced a grin, walking in slowly. “tempting, but no. i’ve got something for you.”

“better be food or something perverted.”

you sat beside him, the envelope now shaking a little in your fingers. you hated how that tremor betrayed you. sukuna didn’t miss it. his eyes shifted to your hand, narrowing.

“what the hell is that?”

“diagnosis,” you said simply, tossing it onto his chest.

he caught it midair, scoffing. “what, did they finally diagnose you with being insufferable?”

“close. heart cancer. stage three. they gave me a twenty-four percent chance of living.” you tried to say it lightly. like it was a weather report. “cloudy with a chance of death, haha.”

sukuna didn’t laugh.

his eyes scanned the page. slower than usual. and his silence—it wasn’t dramatic, it was dangerous. the air felt like it thickened. you could almost hear his jaw clench.

“tch,” he scoffed. “twenty-four percent? what a bunch of weaklings. you don’t need their odds. you’ve got me.”

you blinked at him. “...you?”

“yeah. i’m keeping you alive. i’m not letting you leave me over some pathetic little tumor.”

you tried to keep the smile on your face, tried to keep the mood light like you always did. “damn. here i was thinking i’d finally get some peace and quiet.”

he sat up then—so suddenly the bed shifted with the force. his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing.

“don’t you dare joke about dying,” he growled. “not to me. not when you know what it would do to me.“

you tried to look away, but his fingers held you still. “sukuna…”

“do you know what i’ve done to people who’ve left me?” he whispered, and for once his voice wasn’t teasing—it was trembling.

“terrible things,” you murmured. “you’ve told me.”

“and yet, you’re the only one i’ve ever let touch me without blood on your hands,” he hissed. “the only one i’d share my bed with. laugh with. let sleep on my chest like some damn lovesick fool.”

you bit your lip. your bravado cracked. “...i’m scared.”

and that was all it took for him to pull you into his lap, arms winding around you with the kind of desperation he rarely ever let surface.

“good,” he muttered into your shoulder. “you should be. but not because of death. because if you think i’ll let you go through this alone, you clearly don’t know who the hell you’re dating.”

you buried your face into his neck, breathing in his warmth, his scent, the familiar thrum of something ancient and furious living in his chest.

“you’ll lose your hair?” he murmured. “i don’t care. you’ll puke every day? i’ll hold the damn bucket. cry at three a.m.? i’ll cuss out the moon for looking at you wrong.”

you choked out a laugh. “the moon, huh?”

“fucking moon thinks it’s allowed to shine on you while you’re in pain? not on my watch.”

he leaned back slightly, cupping your cheek now with uncharacteristic softness. “you don’t need to act strong for me, you little brat. cry. scream. sleep for days. whatever you need. i’ll be here.”

“...even when i look like a zombie?”

“you already look half-dead when you wake up. won’t be much of a change.”

you smacked his chest. he grinned.

and then he pressed his forehead against yours, a rare show of intimacy, his voice dropping so low you barely caught it:

“you’re mine. and i don’t give a fuck if it takes all my strength, my fury, my everything. you will survive this. not because the doctors said so. but because i won’t let you die.”

and for once, even with your heart breaking and your future uncertain, you believed him.

because when a monster like sukuna swore something, the universe listened.

SHIU KONG

the sun was already setting by the time you made it to his office.

you found him exactly how you expected: sleeves rolled up, shirt slightly wrinkled, tie loosened like he’d been too busy all day to care about appearances. he was hunched over his desk, fingers typing something sharp, probably threatening someone with policy violations and scary legal jargon. a half-empty glass of whiskey sat beside his monitor, untouched for hours. the room smelled like cologne and stress.

you stood in the doorway, clutching the envelope.

“shiu.”

his eyes didn’t lift right away—just one flick of them toward you, annoyed, until he saw your face. that was all it took.

he straightened. “what happened?”

“nothing,” you said too quickly. “or, i mean... something. yeah. i brought you something.”

you walked in, trying to act normal. like this wasn’t going to detonate his whole night. you placed the envelope on top of a stack of case files like it was a stupid postcard or a coupon for pizza.

he picked it up, his frown deepening with every line he read.

“you’re joking,” he said flatly.

“i wish.”

he looked at you. hard. no emotion at first—just that sharp, calculating gaze that made grown men fold. but you knew him too well. you saw the cracks right away: his fingers tightening around the paper. the twitch in his jaw. the breath he held too long before letting it out.

“stage three?” he said. “twenty-four percent survival?”

you leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to keep it light.

“well, if i was a stock, you probably wouldn't invest in me, huh?”

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped.

you blinked.

“jesus, shiu, calm down—”

“no. i’m not calming down. you walk into my office with this,” he shook the letter, “and joke about it? you think this is funny? you think i can just read this and go back to work?”

you stayed quiet.

he stood up, pacing now. one hand dragging through his hair, the other still holding the paper like it was covered in blood. his voice dropped low. rough.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want to ruin your week.”

he turned slowly. "you think any of this matters if you’re not in it?"

that one hit harder than you expected. your throat tightened.

he sighed harshly and stepped toward you, eyes dark, voice steadier now but no less intense. “look at me.”

you did.

he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was trying to memorize every inch.

"you don’t get to carry this alone,” he said. “not with me around. not for a second."

you bit your lip. “i didn’t want you to treat me like i was dying.”

“i’m not treating you like you’re dying. i’m treating you like you’re mine. and you are. and i don’t care how brutal this fight gets, how many appointments we sit through, how sick you get, how tired—i’m staying.”

you exhaled shakily, and his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you against him like he could keep the sickness away just by holding you tighter.

“you’re not allowed to go before me,” he murmured into your hair. “i’m the old one here, remember?”

you smiled weakly. “so what, you’re giving me permission to outlive you?”

“i’m giving you orders. and you always listen to your boss.”

“you’re not my boss, shiu.”

“wanna bet?”

you leaned your head against his chest, finally letting your tears soak into his shirt. his arms stayed locked around you like a shield.

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

he kissed your temple, voice rough and sure.

“then be scared. just don’t be alone.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he always stayed up too late when he was working. piles of case files, half-drunk cups of green tea gone cold, classical music humming low in the background like it could drown out the weight of the world. the desk lamp lit his tired eyes in soft gold, his brows furrowed in that focused way you knew meant he hadn’t even noticed the time—or eaten.

you hovered at the doorway for a second, gripping the envelope. stage 3. 24%. ugly numbers typed in a clinical font that suddenly felt louder than the damn music.

“hiromi.”

he glanced up, his features instantly softening the second he saw you. “you’re still up. what’s wrong?”

you tried to smirk. “well. i’m about to ruin your night. so buckle in, counselor.”

he frowned and pushed his chair back, straightening. “what happened?”

you crossed the room, placed the envelope down in front of him like you were handing in an assignment. “that’s my diagnosis.”

he didn’t move for a few seconds. just stared at it. like touching it would confirm the dread blooming in his chest. but he opened it, scanned the words, and then—

his shoulders stiffened. just slightly. like a man being sentenced.

“heart cancer,” he murmured, voice almost too calm. “stage three. twenty-four percent survival rate.”

“yeah,” you said with a dry chuckle. “bit dramatic, right? could’ve given me a 30% for optimism.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, unreadable.

“you’re making jokes?”

“if i don’t, i’ll cry. and i figured one of us should hold it together.”

his jaw tensed, and he stood slowly, walking around the desk with a kind of methodical grace that always made your heart skip. he stopped in front of you, one hand resting on your cheek like he was scared you’d vanish.

“you’ve known… how long?”

“got the results a few days ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?”

you looked down. “i didn’t want to be the reason you stopped working. you’ve got enough to deal with. i didn’t want to be another case file on your desk.”

he flinched like you slapped him.

“you’re not a case file,” he said firmly. “you’re not just another name. you’re—” his voice broke, just a little. “you’re everything.”

you couldn’t hold it anymore. your voice cracked. “i’m scared.”

his arms were around you instantly, firm and grounding. his hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into his chest like you belonged there and only there.

“then be scared,” he whispered into your hair. “and i’ll be scared with you. but don’t think for a second i’ll let you go through this alone.”

you held onto his blazer, gripping the fabric like it could anchor you. “i don’t want you to see me fall apart.”

“i’ve seen people fall apart,” he said. “i know what that looks like. this isn’t that. this is you being brave. this is you still showing up, still standing, even when you're hurting.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy. “what if i die?”

his hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing a tear away. “then i’ll have spent every last day making sure you knew you were loved. and if you live—and you will, because you’re stronger than any verdict—they’ll write books about how you told death to wait.”

you laughed through the tears. “that’s a little dramatic, even for a lawyer.”

he smiled, just barely. “i learned from the best.”

and then he kissed you—soft, reverent, like a man clinging to hope.

“we’ll fight this,” he whispered. “and i’ll be with you every step of the way. suits and all.”

i made this after re-watch now is good and just can’t help myself. i know, i know it was basic, classic drama, the girl is sick, has cancer, everyone wrote about it, i know. but i enjoy writing this so much, i may or may not make a mini series about them, do you guys will enjoy it if i make this longer? please let me know! 🫣

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 .ᐟ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A joke profile on a sugar daddy site turns serious when @TimeIsMoney starts paying—and praising—you. What begins as harmless fun spirals into obsession after one night in his hotel suite leaves you aching, ruined, and wanting more.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: daddy kink, age gap, sugar baby stuff, praise, rough sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, money kink, dirty talk, power dynamics, he’s obsessed, reader gets absolutely ruined, aftercare, light choking, finger fucking, reader gets called good girl a lot

𝐖𝐂: 4,000

PART 2

It starts as a joke.

Wine bottles rattle as Nobara kicks the recycling bin closed with the heel of her foot, the sound of glass clinking against cheap plastic barely audible over the laughter echoing through your tiny, overstuffed apartment. Maki flops onto the couch beside you, stretching out like a cat, her legs hooked over the armrest and one arm draped across her eyes. The air smells like takeout and wine, sweet and familiar, the kind of scent that clings to memories. Finals are looming like storm clouds, rent is due in a week, and the textbooks on the kitchen table are collecting more dust than notes. The weight of it all sits heavy in the background, but for now, there’s laughter—loud and warm and so completely alive it makes you forget that you’re broke. That you’re stressed. That everything feels impossible sometimes.

“I’m telling you,” Nobara says as she refills her glass, the wine sloshing close to the rim. “Sugar daddies are the answer. Tuition? Handled. Rent? Done. Textbooks? Bought by some old man who just wants to stare at your feet and be told he’s a good little pay pig.”

You nearly choke on your drink, laughing as you wave her off. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

But Maki’s already pulling your laptop closer, pushing aside the half-eaten box of noodles and flicking the screen to wake it. “Come on, let’s just look. You never know.”

The three of you huddle close as the website loads, the layout exactly as tacky as you’d expect. It takes ten minutes to craft a profile that’s both over-the-top and strangely believable. You use a slightly sultry selfie from last month—nothing too scandalous, just a little cleavage and a coy smile. The bio is ridiculous: College student. Lit major. Broke but charming. Let’s make a deal. You don’t use your real name. The username you pick @YourSweetestSin is half a joke, half something that makes you snort. By the time the profile is live, you’re all laughing so hard your stomach hurts. It’s stupid. It’s harmless. You never intend to take it seriously.

But you don’t delete the profile either. Not that night. Not the next day.

The first message comes two days later while you’re curled in bed, laptop balanced on your thighs, half-focused on an essay you’re bullshitting at the last possible second. The ping startles you, the notification bouncing in the corner of your screen.

@TimeIsMoney: Hello.

That’s it. No gross pickup line. No emojis. No sleazy GIFs. Just a greeting. Curious, you click the profile, expecting a troll or someone who looks like he just escaped from a retirement home. But there’s no picture. Just a clean profile with a short bio: Professional. Discreet. Generous. It makes you snort. “Sure,” you mutter under your breath. But you reply anyway. For the bit. For the laugh. You can’t wait to show the girls.

Except it doesn’t end there. He writes back. You respond. The next message comes within the hour. Then another. And another. Each one short, to the point, polite in a way that disarms you. He asks how your classes are going. What books you’re reading. He doesn’t flirt. He compliments you, but not in a way that makes your skin crawl. It’s strange. It’s addictive. You start checking the app more often. You start replying faster. There’s something comforting about the consistency of it, about the way he always answers. Predictable. Reliable. And that’s something you didn’t realize you were craving until now.

Then, on the fifth night

I want to see you.

The message appears while you’re lying on your stomach, feet kicking behind you, chin resting in your palm. You read it three times. Your heart skips a beat, your stomach flips, and your first instinct is to laugh. This is the part where you bail, right? Where you screenshot it and send it to Nobara with a “can you believe this guy?” But instead, you’re walking to the mirror, pulling your hair over one shoulder, angling your phone just right. You pick your best push-up bra—the black one that hugs you perfectly—and snap a photo. You send it. Doll eyes. Slight pout. Your lips parting like you’ve done this a thousand times.

The response is immediate.

Good girl.

Then, a second later, another notification.

You’ve received $500.

You sit up. Blink. Refresh the app. But it’s there. Sitting in your account, waiting to be transferred. Your jaw drops. Then you scream. Then you laugh. Hard. You’re breathless. You don’t tell Nobara or Maki. Not this time.

From that moment on, it’s a blur. More messages. More requests. Nothing below the waist, not yet. Just photos. A little more skin each time. He never demands. He always asks. And he always pays.

Take off your bra. $500.

Show me your nipples. $700.

Each time, the money lands in your account within seconds. And each time, you find yourself a little wetter. A little more flushed. A little more eager to read the next message. You don’t just do it for the money anymore. You do it because his praise makes your stomach flutter. Because you feel seen. Desired. Wanted. Powerful.

Then comes the night he asks to call you. Your hands tremble as you answer. His voice is everything you didn’t expect. Calm. Smooth. Deep enough to settle in your bones and echo. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t tease. He tells you exactly what he wants. Exactly how he wants to hear you fall apart. You’re already naked when the call starts. The toy he told you to buy is buzzing between your thighs before he even finishes the first sentence. His voice doesn’t falter. He talks you through it like he’s done it a hundred times. You come so hard you see white. He pays you $1,000.

You don’t bother pretending anymore. You wait for his messages. You ache when he disappears for too long. You’re careful not to get too attached, but it’s hard not to wonder. Not to imagine what he looks like. How he might taste. How it would feel to have those hands on your skin instead of just your imagination. So when the next message comes, you already know how you’ll answer.

I want you meet you

When and where?

The hotel he books is far nicer than anywhere you’ve ever been. Just stepping into the lobby makes you feel like an imposter. Crystal chandeliers, velvet furniture, a floral arrangement so big it probably has its own budget. Your heels click across the marble as you walk toward the elevators, your trench coat clutched tight around your body, hiding the lace beneath. You keep your head down. Pretend you belong. The nerves bubbling in your stomach are loud enough, sharp enough to echo.

He said he’d meet you in the room. Top floor. Private. You know the number by heart. You’ve read it over and over again on the message thread. Your fingers hover over the keypad outside the suite door. You press it before you can talk yourself out of it.

The door swings open almost immediately. And there he is.

Nanami Kento.

He doesn’t look how you pictured. He’s younger. Broader. Tall enough that you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Blonde hair, glasses, expensive-looking suit. He smells like cedar and something clean and expensive. His jaw is sharp. His expression unreadable. But his eyes, they roam your body like he knows exactly what’s under your coat.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

You move past him into the room. The suite is massive. Soft lighting, a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets, a view of the city skyline that stretches beyond floor-to-ceiling windows. You hear the door close behind you. The lock clicks.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says.

Your voice barely works. “I wasn’t sure either.”

“Are you nervous?”

You nod.

“Good.” He steps closer. “It means this matters.”

Then he touches you.

It’s not a grab. Not even a full reach. Just the brush of his fingers down your arm, slow and steady, his touch so light it makes your skin prickle. He looks at you like he’s reading you, analyzing every twitch, every flutter of your lashes. His fingers find the belt of your coat. He doesn’t tug. He doesn’t ask. He just looks at you.

You nod.

He undoes the knot slowly, methodically, like he’s unwrapping a gift he doesn’t want to damage. The coat falls open. His breath catches.

The lingerie is sheer black lace, delicate enough to feel sinful. You chose it for him. You’ve sent him pictures in it before. But the way he’s looking at you now—it makes your knees weak.

“Beautiful,” he says. It’s quiet. Like he’s talking to himself.

He slips the coat from your shoulders. It falls in a soft thud at your feet.

“Get on the bed.”

You crawl onto the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress, your heartbeat thudding loud in your ears. The sheets are soft beneath your hands, cool against your flushed skin, and you feel him watching you. Not just looking—watching. The heat of his gaze crawls along your spine as you settle on your back, your legs folding to the side, thighs tight with anticipation. He doesn’t move right away. He just stands there, drinking you in like you’re art, like you’re something to be studied.

Then he begins to undress.

Each movement is precise, deliberate. He removes his watch first, setting it on the nightstand with a soft click. Then he unbuttons his shirt, one button at a time, his fingers steady and sure. You watch his chest slowly come into view—firm, broad, sculpted in a way that makes your breath catch. His shoulders are wide, his waist trim, his skin smooth and golden under the low light. When he slides the shirt off and starts on his belt, your thighs press together involuntarily. The buckle clinks. The zipper lowers. And then he steps out of his slacks, revealing long legs, tight black briefs, and the hard line of his cock already straining against the fabric.

He climbs onto the bed with the kind of calm confidence that makes your stomach flip. He doesn’t pounce. Doesn’t rush. He kneels between your legs and runs his hands up your thighs, spreading them slowly, pushing them apart with the patience of someone who knows exactly what you need and intends to give it to you—on his terms. The cool air kisses your heat, and you realize how wet you already are, your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs. He hums low in his throat as his fingers hook into your panties and begins sliding them down, inch by inch.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he says softly. “I can feel it. You’re soaked.”

You whimper, arching slightly as he tosses the lace aside. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you wait. He leans down, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs wider, and when his mouth finally touches you, you gasp—loud, sharp, uncontrollable. His tongue strokes through your folds with slow, deliberate pressure, tasting you like he has all night. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, and your back bows off the bed.

“Fuck—Nanami,” you breathe, fingers flying into his hair.

He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. He eats you like he means it, like it’s his mission. His tongue moves with skill, pressure alternating between soft flicks and firm, devastating licks. One of his hands slides under your ass, lifting your hips, tilting you up so he can go deeper. The other moves between your legs, and when two fingers slide inside you, you cry out.

Your walls clench around him, tight and wet, your body already shaking. He curls his fingers just right and your thighs twitch in response, your breath catching. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. He watches you from below, eyes dark and steady, like he’s memorizing every twitch, every moan, every desperate roll of your hips. You’re spiraling. Unraveling.

It hits fast. Hard. Your orgasm crashes over you before you can warn him, a wave of heat and light that rips through your body and leaves you sobbing his name. Your hips buck, your legs tremble, your fingers claw at the sheets—but he holds you down, mouth still on you, tongue relentless.

When he finally pulls back, his chin is wet, his lips slick with you. He looks pleased. Controlled. Like he could keep going. Like he wants to.

“That’s one,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers from your cunt and bringing them to his mouth. He sucks them clean slowly, and you moan again, helpless, already throbbing with the need for more.

He leans over you and kisses you—slow, deep, messy—and you taste yourself on his lips. He rolls his hips against yours, his cock hot and hard against your thigh. Your hands slide down, tugging at the waistband of his briefs, and he lets you peel them down.

He’s thick. Long. Veins running along the shaft, the head flushed and already leaking.

“You want this?” he asks, voice low, rough.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly. Inch by inch. Stretching you wide, filling you so deep you can feel it in your stomach. Your jaw drops, a choked moan escaping as your nails sink into his back.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

“Too much?” he breathes, pausing halfway.

“No—don’t stop. Please. Keep going.”

He groans, sliding in the rest of the way, bottoming out. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs. “So perfect around me.”

Then he moves.

Slow at first. Deep. His hips roll into yours, grinding with each thrust. It’s overwhelming, every drag of his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. You cling to him, moaning into his shoulder, and he presses kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers. “Taking me so well. My good girl.”

The praise makes your walls flutter. Your body is already on edge again, hips rolling up to meet his, chasing more.

And then you remember—

“I thought you were gonna fuck me stupid,” you pant.

He stills.

His head lifts. His eyes meet yours.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he says, his voice suddenly darker. “But if you’re going to act like a cock-drunk little slut—”

He pulls out and flips you over in one smooth motion, dragging your hips up, pushing your chest into the mattress. He thrusts back into you hard, deep, and you scream into the sheets.

“—then I’ll fuck you like one”

He doesn’t hold back now. His pace is punishing, hips slamming into yours with the kind of strength that makes the bed creak beneath you. Each thrust drives his cock deeper, harder, making you cry out with every stroke. Your hands fist the sheets, knuckles white, as your body rocks forward from the force of him. He grabs your hips tighter, pulling you back onto him, forcing every inch of him inside like he’s claiming you, ruining you. Your thoughts are gone, scattered, every one of them drowned beneath the sound of skin meeting skin and the filthy things he’s growling into your ear.

“This what you wanted?” he pants, his voice a low growl. “To be fucked like a desperate little whore? You like it like this—don’t you?”

You try to answer, but all that leaves your mouth is a broken moan, high-pitched and needy. Your legs are shaking, your pussy clenching so tightly around him that you feel every twitch of his cock. You’re drooling onto the sheets, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, from how deep he’s inside you.

He reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling your head back until your spine arches, your back flush to his chest. His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. He rubs slow, tight circles, the pressure just right. Your body locks up.

“Oh my god—Nanami—fuck—”

“I want you to cum again,” he hisses into your ear. “Cum for me while I’m buried in this tight little pussy. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You do.

It hits harder than the first time, your body convulsing around him, thighs trembling, a sob of pleasure ripping from your throat as your orgasm tears through you. You clench around him so hard it makes him grunt, his rhythm faltering for the first time. He curses under his breath, fucking you through it, prolonging your high until you’re left a shaking, overstimulated mess.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he growls.

You collapse forward, cheek pressed to the sheets, too wrecked to hold yourself up anymore. But he doesn’t stop. He slows down, but he keeps moving, long deep strokes that fill you again and again. One hand stays on your hip while the other presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down. You’re gasping, moaning brokenly, your cunt so sensitive you’re already on the edge again.

“Please—please, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re gonna give me one more.”

His cock drags along your walls, thick and pulsing, hitting every spot that makes your vision blur. Your body is on fire. Nerves raw. Everything tightens again, too soon, too fast.

“Cum,” he demands, and the command alone pushes you over the edge.

You scream his name as your third orgasm slams into you, thighs quaking, fingers clawing at the mattress as you fall apart. Your pussy clenches so hard around him that his rhythm shatters. He groans, deep and guttural, thrusts stuttering as he slams into you one final time and spills inside you with a growl.

You can feel it—his cum flooding your pussy, hot and thick, filling you up as his body presses down on yours. His breath is hot against your back. His weight grounding.

He stays like that for a moment, both of you panting, your bodies tangled in heat and sweat. Then he pulls out slowly, gently, and you whimper at the loss. You feel the slick of his release drip down your thigh.

You’re boneless. Floating. Barely able to lift your head.

He pulls you into his arms, rolls you over, kisses your forehead. His hands are soft again, soothing, trailing along your back in lazy circles.

“You did so good,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

He holds you until your breathing slows. Until the ache in your muscles fades into something warm and satisfied. Until the world stops spinning quite so fast.

Then he rises. Dresses slowly. Smooths his hair back into place. He leans down to press one last kiss to your lips.

“The room is yours until tomorrow night,” he whispers. “Order whatever you want. Rest. Recover.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Where are you going?”

He smiles. “I need to get ready for work on Monday.”

And then he’s gone.

The silence after he leaves is loud. You lie there for a while, naked in the sheets that smell like him, your body sore and aching in the best possible way. Everything feels distant. Fuzzy. Like your skin is still buzzing with the echo of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at you like he owned every inch of you. You eventually drag yourself out of bed, your legs unsteady, and pad to the bathroom. The tub is huge, the kind of thing you’d only ever seen in movies, and you don’t think twice before running the water, pouring in a generous stream of lavender bubble bath from the bottle on the counter. You sink into the warmth with a soft moan, letting the water ease the tightness in your thighs, the soreness in your hips. Every shift of your body reminds you of what just happened—of how thoroughly he fucked you, how deeply he filled you, how completely he took you apart.

You stay in the bath until the water starts to cool, then dry off and wrap yourself in one of the fluffy white robes hanging by the door. You pour yourself a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling by the window and collapse onto the bed again, legs curled under you, robe slipping off one shoulder. You stare at the city lights outside the window, the skyline glowing and endless. You feel expensive. Adored. Used and treasured at the same time. The kind of full you didn’t know you were craving.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

You grab it lazily, still smiling.

Nanami has sent you $10,000.

You stare.

You’re up in a flash, jumping on the bed like a maniac, the robe falling off as you laugh and squeal and spin yourself dizzy. You don’t even care. You roll across the mattress, kick your legs in the air, and scream into a pillow. Then you check again—just to be sure. It’s still there. Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

You sink back against the pillows, grinning like a fool, and take a long, slow sip of champagne.

This is the best night of your life.

The weekend melts away in a blur of room service and luxury. You spend hours soaking in the tub, order dessert with every meal, and sleep tangled in hotel sheets that smell like him. You keep your phone close, reading and rereading every message he sends. He doesn’t disappear. He checks in constantly. Tells you how proud he is. How badly he wants you again. How he’s counting the hours until next time.

By Monday morning, you’re still sore. Still giddy. You barely hear your alarm over the buzz of your phone. You get ready for class with your phone in your hand the entire time, texting back between sips of coffee.

I need you again this weekend. Same hotel. I want you on your knees when I walk in.

I can still feel you. Still smell you. I’m not done with you.

You’re practically floating when you meet up with Nobara and Maki in the courtyard.

“You’re glowing,” Maki says. “Who are you texting?”

Nobara leans in to peek. You pull your phone away with a smirk.

“No one.”

“She’s lying,” Maki says. “It’s totally a sugar daddy. Look at her.” She jokes.

You laugh. Shrug. Say nothing.

Because they’re right. And you’re not giving up your secret that easy. The three of you head to class, sliding into your usual seats as you pull out your laptop. You open a blank doc, fingers still dancing over your phone under the table.

I want your pussy on my mouth the second I see you again.

You bite your lip, cheeks hot, and set your phone face-down as the door opens.

Footsteps. A soft clearing of a throat.

You look up and freeze.

Nanami Kento walks to the front of the classroom, calm and collected, setting his briefcase on the podium like he’s done it a hundred times. He’s in a fitted suit, glasses perched on his nose, hair neat and perfect.

He adjusts his tie. Opens his laptop. Looks up.

His eyes meet yours.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t falter. Just offers the faintest flicker of a smile.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says smoothly. “Welcome to Ethics in Literature.

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

[pbpressure]

capture | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff (reader sounds a little clingy but its cute), fingering (reader receiving), oral (paige receiving), some yearning, hair pulling, slight dom sub dynamics but nothing too serious. lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.3k (slight pwp, cmon act like you know me)

summary: paige and reader are out of the country but want to be inside each other LMAO

authors note: i don’t even know what to call this, i barely proofread it. i’ve honestly been having such a hard time writing but hopefully this suffices for now! munch madness i mean march madness is upon us hehe

enjoy! x

when paige told you that she booked you two a getaway for spring break you had no idea that it would be this luxurious.

the room alone was huge. windows covering an entire wall from ceiling to floor. most surfaces were covered in beautiful decor and the bed faced the humongous pool that sat just beyond the deck outside. it was perfect.

you couldn’t actually fuss about the cost or how hard it must’ve been to book because paige was quick to hush you with a kiss on your forehead and mutter how she’d always “do anything for you.”

the vacation honestly felt more like you both ran away. off of your phones for days, with the exception of checking in with family and taking numerous photos. although it wasn’t intentionally secretive that made it even more enjoyable.

the beach, which you had visited every day thus far due to its close proximity, was perfect. the area surrounding your villa nice and quiet as well. 

of course with the extra rest time that comes with a vacation you had encouraged paige to rest, that’s all you wanted for the both of you. but after the first two days you realized that even you could only nap so much. 

today after a little more exploring the amenities of your villa you did lay down together and close your eyes for a bit. when you open them again you don’t know how much time has passed, but paige was knocked out of course.

you had been awake for a good 20 minutes. in your defense you did try to close your eyes again but it was unsuccessful.

your body was draped over paige’s, one of her hands resting naturally on your thigh that was slung across her hips. her bicep flexed slightly as it was propping her head up on the pillow. you catch yourself silently chuckling when you realize you were just staring at her in awe.

it was all so domestic. from the sleeping position to the way that one of the only noises you could hear were little puffs of air from paige’s parted lips. if you could capture the feeling into one world it would be complete. or maybe absolute.

you’re aching at this point from craning your neck to gawk at paige and you honestly feel ridiculous for how long you’ve been laying like this.

with the urge to bask in the sun and swim a little you gently turn over, lifting paige’s arm from you. you slip out of bed, careful not to wake her and you quietly get changed and head outside. 

the wide window in the room gave her a clear view of the pool. hopefully she’d wake up, see you perched in a chair, and come join you.

her nap actually lasts way longer than you anticipated and you were getting antsy. you read your book until you couldn't anymore and switched your lying position too many times to count. it had already been about an hour and a half since you’d got up from the bed and paige was still asleep.

the sun was starting to set and you hoped she would get up soon, but alas the impatience was becoming a bit painful. 

you pick up your phone deciding to text paige and immediately open the camera. putting a slight pout in your lips you take a selfie, tits perky and in frame. then you flip the camera and angle your phone down to get your entire lower body and the pool in one picture. you take the photo, press send and quickly type up something to emphasize on the amount of notifications she’d get. 

*buzz* 1 attachment 

*buzz* p, can you nap faster? i’m…bored.

*buzz* 1 attachment 

of course paige was still on dnd so naturally you pressed the notify anyway button. sighing in contentment you decide to get up off your ass (hardly) and sit in the hot tub that was adjacent, waiting for your girlfriend.

your texts didn’t wake paige, she had already started tossing and turning a bit ago signaling the end of her nap.

however, when she did pick up the phone after realizing you were no longer lying beside her she felt her eyes go so wide that they could have bulged out of her head.

she looks at both the pictures you sent and exhales sharply, running a hand over her face in disbelief.

the blonde couldn’t help but glance outside, eyes instantly making contact with your bikini clad figure. she bit her lip as her eyes ran up and down your body.

your hair had gotten wet and began to cling to your chest and neck that was now glistening and catching a slight glow from the fluorescent lights in the hot tub. your lips were glossy, as always, and they were parted while you let out what looked like a sigh.

she lifts her phone from the bed swiping the camera icon at the bottom of the screen.

these photos were for her, but also to show you how good you really did look.

your head is slightly tilted to the side when she snaps the photo. you’re standing to adjust yourself so your hips come up to the surface of the water. she almost drools looking back at the way she had captured you before she presses the blue arrow in the text bar. 

getting up and changing out of her clothes and into her swimsuit she hurries outside. 

when you hear the sliding door your attention is on paige as she makes her way to the hot tub.

your eyes light up and you grin, pleased to see her awake. when you notice that she’s getting in the water, you have to force yourself not to stare.

her abdomen toned and flexing with each step she took. chest exposed and already showing a tan as a result of earlier time spent in the sun.

“so you missed me?” paige breaks the silence once she’s settled into the water across from you.

“don’t act shocked.” you scoff.

“oh, i’m not. it’s just…cute ‘s all.” she says, lifting her eyebrow a bit and stifling a giggle when she sees you roll your eyes.

“i sat out here for almost two hours while you slept, it got boring fast. plus i knew you’d want to watch the sunset so i hoped you’d wake up in time.”

paige’s heart swells at the confession. she had just been a threshold away from you asleep and still the only thing on your mind. it was never a secret between the two of you or to anyone else how obsessed you were with each other. but that didn’t mean it got old. 

“as great as it is to rest, i'm glad i woke up in time to catch the sunset,” paige starts. “and you in this…this bikini?”

“what do you mean? it is a bikini.” you contest, raising your own eyebrow now and anticipating how paige would admit that your bathing suit barely covering anything was causing her own skin to run hot.

her cheeks are beet red and she purses her lips together to stop herself from smiling like an idiot.

“you know exactly what i mean.” she mutters, voice suggestive. 

you do fully giggle this time, leaning your head back. when you’re done laughing you unintentionally press your entire body forward for a second when you rest your arms on the sides of the hot tub. 

you watch the blonde across from you lick her lips as her eyes travel straight to your tits, back up to your face, and then to your tits one last time before she opens her mouth once more.

“I loved the photos by the way. can’t say they compare to having you right here within my reach, but you look amazing.”

“thank you baby. wanna say it again and look me in the eyes this time?”

tonguing her cheek to hold in a laugh she shakes her head. partially because she was caught ogling and partially at how bratty you were being.

“i can show you better than i can tell you.”

“yeah?” you taunt, tilting your head.

“get over here.”

you practically pounce on her with how quickly you travel from your end of the water to her lap. she wastes no time grabbing your hips so you’re comfortably straddling her.

you let out a hiss when she presses your hips down, forcing you to sit on her completely. you had been riled up since she stepped outside, the friction on your clit from the material of your swim bottoms wasn’t helping.

paige brings a wet hand up to cradle your chin, turning your head to face her completely. she pulls you closer, not kissing you yet.

“you really are so gorgeous, you know that?” paige mutters, lips ghosting over yours.

“p, have you seen yourself? cmon now–“ 

“this isn’t about me, baby.” 

she stops you mid thought with a soft peck on the lips. although it’s feather light a smack sounds between you both at how quickly it happened.

you whine when she pulls back and you don’t miss how she smirks at your reaction.

“don’t be a brat.”

“okay, then kiss me.” you groan, bringing your arms above the water to wrap around her neck, closing the bit of distance that's between your lips.

it’s already warm in the water that’s ricocheting against the walls of the hot tub and your bodies, but the way that paige moans into your mouth when she kisses you back heats you up more.

for a while you’re just kissing like horny teenagers. it’s sloppy and wet and you pull away panting a little. 

you run your hands through paige’s hair and study her features before leaning in to kiss her again, stopping just barely before your lips meet. she closes her eyes in anticipation but opens them after she realizes you’re not gonna kiss her. 

“like i was saying,” you whisper, struggling to hold eye contact when you feel her breath hitch against your lips. 

“i could look at you all day.” you lean in, intending just to give her a peck like she did you earlier. but the moment your lips lock one of her hands is holding you by the back of the neck, it was firm but she knew you weren’t gonna pull away.

she parts your lips with her tongue and it’s your turn to moan into her mouth. you can’t help the grinding of your hips, rutting against her eager for your clit to make contact with part of her somehow. she takes note of this and takes her hand off of your neck, it disappears under the water quickly. 

she uses two fingers to push your bathing suit to the side, immediately pressing onto your clit. you pull back from the kiss to gasp, eyes heavy as you try to keep them open and on paige.

“just look? i mean, i’m flattered but there’s a lot that i’d rather do to you all day.” she trails off, now circling your clit with her fingers, watching your reaction intently.

“f-fuck, you know what i m-mean. i always want to look at you, kiss you, touch and feel you. i’m so in love with you baby. you’re so good to me.” you ramble, bucking your hips to signal that you wanted her fingers inside.

“yeah?” she was mocking you. “sure you’re not just saying that because you want something from me right now?” 

her voice was low and her eyes never left yours. hearing her say that while her hand was between your legs caused you to clench around nothing.

of course it wasn’t true, and you both knew it, before you could give her any attitude her middle and ring finger were thrusting into your cunt. 

“p, oh my god–“ you don’t even finish your sentence.

the ease in which the heel of her palm met your clit was almost embarrassing. it was like your pussy was made to take her fingers. 

your jaw goes slack, and you struggle to breathe out for a split second. since you were on top of her she was already prodding at the spongy spot you knew all too well, each thrust making you shudder and clench harder around her fingers.

“‘s so good, so deep!” you pant.

“i know pretty girl,” she pants, placing kisses your chest. her tongue is hot when it comes in contact with the same spots she pecked. she uses her free hand to move your hips until you get the idea and start riding her fingers, already close to your release from how long you'd waited to have her.

“keep it up, i can feel how close you are baby.” she says, voice muffled by the skin of your tits that she’s still burying her face in.

it doesn’t take long for your hips to begin to circle messily, your eyes are squeezed shut and your entire body is on fire. 

curling her fingers as they drilled into your hole, paige uses her thumb to fondle your clit. not letting up on her thrusts she leans forward to tongue your nipple through your bikini top and your head falls back as you let out a sound that mimics sob. you take in one sharp breath before letting out a moan that’s borderline pornographic. 

paige’s eyes are on you, watching your face and body contort with pleasure. her lips are parted, eyebrows furrowed, and she’s moaning occasionally too with the way your cunt was fluttering around her fingers. she was getting off on this just as much as you were.

“shit! p-please don’t stop, i’m so close.” you choke, hands gripping onto her shoulders like she had intentions to run away.

“you wanna cum for me?” she coos, once again in a mocking manner.

you attempt to nod but paige starts making a scissoring motion inside of you with her fingers and you’re already feeling static from head to toe. 

you do cum, literally into the palm of her hand. she can’t hide how badly she’s into this shit and you can feel her smiling against your skin as she kisses any part of you that her lips can reach, milking you through the rest of your high. 

when you’re starting to catch your breath you feel paige curl her fingers inside you again. 

choking on a mixture of a scream and a moan you have to reach down and hold her wrist to stop her from stimulating you more.

“p that’s enough, what about you?” you ask, already licking your lips at the thought of getting to have your way with her next.

“what about me?” she responds, placing another hot kiss on your neck and making zero effort to move from her current position: beneath you with her hand between your legs.

“i want to taste you. please?” you whisper the last part. it came out as more of a plea than you realized but you didn’t care. 

on wobbly legs you stand, pulling paige to her feet as well. 

she towers over you, bending down to kiss you again. you kiss back hungrily and place your hands on her hips and guide her to sit on the edge of the hot tub.

she parts her legs for you and you grip onto her thighs with gentle hands. looking up at her as you kneel and begin to pepper light kisses on her damp skin. her breathing gets harder the closer you get to where she wants to feel you the most.

“you were just begging to taste me, don’t tease me.” paige groans, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you. 

you place an open mouthed kiss on her clit through her swim bottoms and she shudders at the feeling. using two fingers you pull them to the side and kiss the same spot, this time skin to skin.

paige gasps, the hand that was on the back of your head threading through your hair for a better grip. 

you lift your other hand and use two fingers to part her lips. as slow as you can manage you lick sloppily from her clit to her hole and your eyes roll back into your head when you feel her gush into your mouth. 

“fuck!” paige whines, throwing her head back. 

you relax your jaw and stick your tongue out again, shaking your head from side to side, intentionally making a little extra noise to add to the crudeness of the act.

paige’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as she pants, simultaneously trying to watching you pleasure her. when you both lock eyes you moan and take her clit between your lips sucking on it messily. 

this sends her into a frenzy. 

although paige was never afraid to be vocal with you, this was possibly the loudest she had ever been during oral. you’re gloating mentally as you start literally making out with her cunt. 

it’s lewd and you love it, clearly she does too. you feel her thighs start to close around your head and when you force them apart you watch her throw her head back and reach up to play with her nipples.

“you’re doing so good for me baby, it’s almost like you were made for this.” paige groans, pulling on your hair a little harder than she had intended, almost cumming from the moan you let out against her.

“i was made for you.” you pull back and pant before lowering your head again and thrusting your tongue into her, using your thumb to circle her clit.

paige is a babbling mess and you can feel her start to thrash around slightly.

“f-fuck! i’m almost there.” she manages to spit out, a yelp following as her thighs start to shake.

it doesn't take much more and as soon as you can hear her you can taste her. she cums, hot and immediately coating your lips and chin. 

paige’s back is arched as she tries to close her legs around your head. you’re pussy drunk and have no intentions of pulling back despite the way that she’s nearly sobbing every time you flick her aching clit with your tongue. 

one final harsh tug at your hair causes you to pull away from her breathing heavily and with a groan. instantly she’s pulling you to your feet and against her body. 

when you’re face to face you’re obsessed with how fucked out paige looks. her lips pink and puffy, eyes glossed over, and hair a mess.

when she pulls you in your lips make contact and you smirk into the kiss at the thought of her being so eager to taste herself.

after a few more sloppy languid kisses you drop your head to her shoulder and she leans forward,

submerging you both into the warm water once again.

“that was so sexy.” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

“you need to wear this bikini anytime we are near a body of water, for the rest of this trip.” paige says, causing a giggle to bubble in your chest that pressed against hers.

“whatever you say, p.” you reply, tone singsong like.

your back hits the wall of the other side of the hot tub and paige wraps your legs around her waist and stands again.

reaching behind you towards your towel and other belongings you grab your phone, thinking of how much you wanted to capture this moment.

when the screen lights up and you see the last text you received your mouth opens in shock and you can’t help the way that your cheeks rise. you're grinning like an idiot.

2 attachments

i need that.

“paige!” you say, looking up from behind your phone to catch her already smiling back at you, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“i mean...i got it, didn’t i?”

[marauder-misprint]

Mystery Girl

Sirius Black x fem!Gryffindor!reader

5.7k words

cw: pining, bad flirting advice, fluff

You allow yourself to gaze in his direction for longer than usual. Your head is propped up on your hand, elbow resting on your desk, as you tap the tip of your quill to your lip in faux-thought. Professor Flitwick had announced the rest of class was to be used to work on the essay he assigned last class. Yours is about half done. You really should be thinking about what to write next, or looking up more information in your textbook. But, alas, you stare at Sirius with no real thoughts in your head. If anyone asked though, you would say it was just his general direction. 

Sirius isn’t even pretending to work. He’s having a full fledged whispered conversation with James, occasionally leaning forward to include Peter and Remus, the latter of which is attempting to finish his essay. You’re a bit surprised that Remus hasn’t finished it already, but with friends like Sirius, James and Peter, getting work done can be a challenge. 

Every once in a while, Sirius looks in your direction and flashes you his impish grin. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. You’re close friends; you’re one of the few that knows he’s an animagus. A few too many drinks one night got you that information. He recapped the whole process for you that night, which left you wondering how he managed to go through it all without mentioning it to you. The more you thought about it afterwards, the more you realized that his letters that summer were particularly odd. 

You became friends with Sirius during second year when you shared a detention with McGonagall. She had you scraping gum off the bottom of desks while Sirius was sweeping ash off the floor and then mopping and polishing. It was a long and grueling evening for two 12-year-olds. Through complaining and cracking jokes, you managed to survive and a friendship was fostered. It certainly helped that you continued to get assigned detention together over the years. 

Somewhere between here and there, you realized that you wanted more than friendship from Sirius, but with him being who he is, you had no way of knowing if your feelings were reciprocated. You buried them as deep as you could. You didn’t want any of your friends, especially the mutual ones with Sirius, to know that you had a crush on him. You’d rather live in the pain of watching him flirt with girl after girl that wasn’t you but have him as a dear friend than live in that same world except have him reject you and never speak to you again. 

His wild grin brings you out of your thoughts. He raises his eyebrows as you shiver violently. You look down at your essay, not giving Sirius any attention. You figure he’ll assume you were zoned out, which you were to a point. You don’t let your graze fall back on him for the rest of class, allowing you to miss how he looked back at you several times. 

Sirius catches up with you when Flitwick dismisses everyone. Not having worked on his essay, putting his stuff away had only taken him a moment while you carefully place your things into your bag. 

“Must’ve had some train of thought going,” he muses, leaning on your desk slightly.

 “What do you mean?” you ask, not looking up.

“Could’ve sworn you were staring right at me. I acknowledge you and nothing!”

You hum. “Then, yeah, I suppose. I was trying to make some progress.”

“And did you?” he asks as you leave the classroom and walk together to your next class.

“Not much,” you sigh. “Added a paragraph but it’s still too short. Can’t even bewitch my handwriting to be larger to make it close enough.” 

“We can work on it later. I have…” His voice trails off as he looks at the parchment hastily shoved into his Charms’ book. “Half of an introduction.”

You laugh as you gently bump into Sirius. You are mildly surprised that he even had that much done, but once he sits down and actually works on it, Sirius will finish his much faster than you ever could. At least he was offering to work on it with you. That meant you could ask him to look over yours when you finally finished. 

---

The common room empties out slowly as students head to bed. You’ve been sitting on the couch since dinner with your History of Magic textbook laying in your lap, open yet unread. Your eyes are unfocused, staring at the dancing flames in the hearth. Every once in a while you pick up sentences from your friends sitting around you. It’s nothing too exciting. The boys are discussing the intricate details for their next pranks on the Slytherins; the girls making plans for the next Hogsmeade weekend. And you were supposed to be catching up on the assigned reading.

It isn’t until Sirius falls dramatically into your lap that you tear your eyes away from the fire to see that everyone else has gone to bed. His dark hair splays across your book as he looks up at you with his stormy grey eyes.

“Did you finish the chapter?” he asks with a lazy smile. “Or were you seeking divine intervention from the fire?” 

“Divine intervention,” you reply, lifting his head ever so gently so you could remove your book, close it and set it aside. “The creation of the Being Division in the 1800s by some bloke Stumpy? End me now.” 

Sirius chuckles. 

“I’m glad Binns didn’t assign an essay on it. Imagine!” he says, making you smile. “There’s that smile. It’s not like it’ll be on an exam or anything.”

“Sirius, you know it will.” 

“And you can look at my paper. Or James’. Remus. Peter, wait… maybe not Peter. But Lily and Marlene would be okay.”

“And that’s cheating. It’s one thing on essays, but exams are another.” 

“Fine, study. Put in more effort than you need to.”

You ruffle his hair in response, earning you a noise of complaint from Sirius. You are allowed to play with his hair when it involves running your fingers through it or braiding it. Ruffling it and making it messy? Treason.

“Can I… talk to you about something?” Sirius asks as he adjusts in your lap. 

“I don’t know… Talking? Us? I don’t think we’ve ever done that before!” you tease sarcastically. 

“No, really, love. I need your opinion on something.” 

There is something more earnest in his voice that tells you it’s serious. You know he debated saying that it is but knew you would laugh and say that everything is Sirius with him. It was a dumb joke that you couldn’t get enough of. 

You nod somberly.

“Yeah, Sirius. We can talk about anything.” 

“So… there’s this girl.”

That one sentence is a punch to your gut. He wants to talk to you about a girl? While past girlfriends have come up in conversations before, it was always a fleeting topic, or they were key players in a story, like dates gone wrong. You thought it was understood that your friendship with Sirius avoided each other’s love lives - not that you ever had a boy to talk about with him.

“O-okay,” you manage to say. 

“I really like her. I just… I can’t tell if she likes me and the boys are no help.”

“So you’ve come to me because I’m oh-so-experienced in love?” 

“I came to you because you’re a girl. How do girls show that they’re interested when they aren’t obviously flirting?” 

You poke his cheek as you say, “Used to the obvious flirting, aren’t you?” 

He grins up at you. “Obviously.”

“Well, from what I know, they lean in when you talk, laughing at any and every stupid joke you make. When they touch you, they let their hand linger, especially if it’s on your hand or arm.” You demonstrate your point by touching his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. “A little more brazen, they’ll compliment you subtly. You should be able to see it in their smile. Maybe they’ll flutter their eyelashes at you if they are bold. Or desperate. They’ll also jump to your side if you’re alone.” You sigh. “Again, you know I’m too experienced with this flirting thing so…”

“Yeah, but you must’ve flirted with guys before. You’re no hermit.”

You exhale out of your nose. “I don’t flirt much.”

“Much! So you do! Your expertise shan’t be taken for granted!” 

Your expertise. Sirius really has you on a pedestal. You sit with him for a while longer, running your fingers through his hair to make up for your earlier ruffling. He closes his eyes as he enjoys the feeling. 

Over the next few days, you make a point to not do any of the things you listed off as flirting. You only lean forward when he talks at meals so you can have the excuse of needing to be able to hear him better. You rarely find yourself in a position to have your hand on his so that wasn’t an issue. You aren’t one to bat your eyelashes or stroke his ego. Your two vices are laughing and being at his side, but he’s your best friend. Could you really be expected to not spend time with him and enjoy yourself when you are with him? You think you’ve played it off fairly well.

Sirius thinks you’ve given him faulty advice. He is hyper aware of every interaction he has with this girl. He’s overanalyzing every move she moves around him, and every move he makes. What’s even more frustrating to him is that some of the things you listed off, he can’t imagine her doing. It’s just not who she is. 

He decides to bring it up again to you in the Transfiguration Courtyard after classes. James and Marlene are tossing a quaffle back and forth while Lily, Mary, Remus and Peter work on various assignments. You and Sirius are sharing a pack of cigarettes off to the side at Mary’s request. She claims she can’t focus when there’s a cloud of smoke around her head. There’s enough space between you and the rest of the group which gives Sirius the privacy he requires for this topic.

“You know that girl I was telling you about?” he asks you.

“The one you’re so in love with?” 

“Yeah, that’d be the one.”

“Then, yes, I know of her. You never told me who it is though.” 

“That’s not important right now,” he says, running a hand through his hair before immediately shaking it out. “She’s not doing any of those non-obvious flirting things you said.”

“She’s not?” you echo with your eyebrows raised. What girl could resist the temptations of Sirius? 

“She’s not. But now I’m wondering if I’m the problem?” 

You laugh loudly. Sirius’ firm gaze and stoney expression tell you he’s not messing around like you assumed he would be. 

“Tell me how you, you, could be the problem?”

“Like I told you before, I really like this girl. I do. She’s amazing, a real sweetheart, and I don’t want to mess it up before it’s gone anywhere. So I haven’t flirted with her the same way I’ve flirted with other girls.”

“Damn, Black. You must really like this girl.”

“I do. So much.” He takes a breath and leans in a hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong though. I know she wouldn’t like my usual flirting. She doesn’t respond to the new method. How do I get this girl’s attention?” 

You sigh and shake your head.

“It’d be easier to help you if I knew who it was,” you tell him. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I… I can’t tell you.”

“Sirius-” you chastise. 

“Love, I can’t tell you.”

“Have you asked the boys how to flirt with this mystery girl?”

“Sirius Black, master flirt, is not going to those virgins for help.”

You bite inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all: Sirius calling himself a master flirt, knowing damn well that James and Remus weren’t virgins, and that Sirius was willing to come to you, an actual virgin, for help. 

“So what do I do?” 

You can’t hold back your laughter any more. It breaks through. You expect Sirius to look upset at your laughing but instead he’s smiling at you. 

“I’m not trying to be mean, Sirius, but you do know who you’re talking to, right? A girl who’s never been flirted with? And you’re turning down asking Potter, king of pining, for advice? Like I’m one hundred percent sure that Lily knows he likes her.” 

You glance toward James and then Lily. You missed the flash of disappointment that crosses Sirius’ face when you say you’ve never been flirted with. He knows for a fact it isn’t true, but it wouldn’t help his cause now to tell you otherwise.

“I’m talking to my best friend who I think is more perceptive than she realizes,” he states. “Humor me: how would you like to be flirted with?”

How would you like to be flirted with? The question repeats in your mind as you think. Sirius can practically see the gears turning in your head. He waits patiently for your answer. It has the potential to change everything for him.

“I… I want genuine compliments. I want to be told that I’m pretty but also that I’m enough and to hear what they like about me, you know, beyond looks. I want them to choose to spend time with me. I want them to do all that chivalrous, gentleman-y things like carrying my books and holding doors,” you list off. As you continue your ramble, your face grows hot. “I sound like a spoiled child,” you laugh. “I want, I want, I want.” 

Sirius smiles at you with an adoring look in his eyes. 

“Maybe so, but I did ask you what you wanted.” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “So no big, grand gestures for you? I’ll make sure to tell all your suitors.”

You roll your eyes as you’re fairly certain there are no potential suitors for him to tell. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been flirting with this mystery girl if it hasn’t been your usual tactics, but the little things really do add up.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I went from one extreme to the other?”

“Why, yes, yes I would,” you smirk. 

“Oi! Looks like rain, we’re going in!” Lily yells in your direction. 

Sirius stands up first and holds out his hand to help you up. 

Throughout the rest of the week, it’s like a switch flipped in Sirius. He’s more attached to you than normal. He’s always there to hold open a door for you, to offer to carry your books or put your supplies away. He starts using pet names with you more. You find it all a bit peculiar. He was spending so much energy on you rather than trying to win over his mystery girl. You try not to think too hard on it. 

When the weekend came, your whole friend group made their way to the quidditch pitch. It was nice when Gryffindor wasn’t playing so James and Marlene could jeer at the players, complain about calls and plays and explain moves to everyone. They bring a higher energy to the stands. But you couldn’t focus on their comments too much. Sirius is pressed into your side with how packed the Gryffindor section is. To make it more comfortable, he draped his arm loosely over your shoulder. His cologne overtakes the rest of the smells that accompany the stands. You’re not complaining about that, but it did make it hard to think about anything else. Again, you try not think too hard about Sirius’ mystery girl, or the fact that your body is much closer to Sirius’ than Lily’s, who was on your other side. 

After Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff, you claim a table for yourself in the common room. You have an essay for Transfiguration to finish. Lily and Marlene had fretted earlier about your insistence on getting it done today when you had all of tomorrow to work on it and there was a party tonight. They certainly didn’t like you pointing out that it was Ravenclaw’s party so your presence wouldn’t be missed and you had more homework to do tomorrow. Merlin forbid school didn’t come easy to you. 

When they accepted that you were a lost cause for the night, they grabbed Mary and left. You are able to work in peace for a little over half an hour. Then the Marauders traipsed down the stairs. Their sheer presence sends energy pulsing through the room. You briefly look up as they pass your table. Sirius spins around after passing you and walks up to you, slamming his hands on the table.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” he demands. “Pretty girls belong at parties.” 

You feel your cheeks warm. You drag the feather end of your quill over the pages of the open book and essay in front of you.

“These essays. They never seem to write themselves.”

“So you’re just not going to the party?” 

“Padfoot! Come on,” James calls.

“Love?” Sirius asks, ignoring his friends. 

You sigh and look up at him. He’s looking at you so ardently. 

“Not until I finish this essay. So I’ll either be extremely late or I won’t go,” you answer him. 

He pulls out the chair across from you.

“Head over without me! We’ll catch up later,” he yells over his shoulder as he sits down.

Then he grabs your essay, scanning it to see how far along you are.

“Sirius, go to the party,” you tell him, reaching for your essay but he holds it out of your reach. “Your mystery girl is probably there. You could be making your move. My essay will get done.”

“Mystery girl will be there whenever I get there. However, your essay is more important than any party, and I don’t want to go if you’re not there.” He flashes you his wide grin. “How can you expect me to have fun when I know you’re back here, suffering?”

You sigh and lean back in your chair. With you no longer reaching for your essay, Sirius is able to finish reading it over. He hands it back to you and grabs your book. He flips a few pages before placing it back in front of you and pointing to a second you hadn’t looked at yet.

“You’re closer to finishing that essay than you think, love. You really just need a summary of that section and a conclusion. Then it’s upstairs to change and party time!” 

“Thanks, Sirius.” 

You lean over the desk to read the section he pointed out. After a few minutes, you glance up at him. He’s been watching you read and make notes. 

“You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll find you at the party when I’m done,” you say, although you have half a mind to crawl into bed when you’re done. Especially if Sirius’ mystery girl is at this party, you’re not sure if you have it in you to watch him flirt with her, a girl he seems to be in love with. 

“Please, don’t act like I don’t know you. If I leave now without you, you won’t go. You’ll finish the essay and then you’ll hide here. Nope. You’re going to have fun tonight if I have anything to do with it.”

“Fine…” you mumble, turning back to the book to reread the last paragraph. 

Another half an hour or so passes until you’re semi-satisfied with your essay. You set your quill down as you reread the entire thing, a frown appearing on your face. It’s not nearly as good as you want it to be. You should probably rewrite it.

“Ah, give it here,” Sirius says, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“It’s no good,” you reply, shaking your head. “I need to rewrite it.”

“Let me read it. I’m sure it’s fine.” He tilts his head while giving you a firm look. “Go change. I’ll read it while you’re gone. If it’s as bad as you think it is, we’ll work on it more. If you’re being hard on yourself, we’ll get you a drink to help you unwind.”

You sigh dramatically. You leave the essay on the desk for Sirius to grab, instead of handing to him. You trudge up the stairs to your dorm to change into something more party-like. Your indecisiveness means that you try on several outfits before finding something that you don’t hate. You don’t want to look like too much, too good. If you’re going to try to help Sirius get this mystery girl, you couldn’t be outshining her. 

When you return to the common room, Sirius has cleaned up all of your things into neat piles. 

“Oh, you look lovely!” he declares when he notices that you’re back. “And your essay, easily an E. Trust me. We ensure that Pete gets at least an A on every essay and that was better than what he’s turning in.” 

You roll your eyes at the ‘we’. You knew the Marauders often treated homework as group assignments. He holds out his arm for you to take, which you do with some hesitation. 

“Shall we go find your girl at this party?” you ask.

“We shall,” he says with a smile as he leads you out of the Gryffindor Common Room and toward Ravenclaw Tower. 

Once past the eagle knocker, Sirius is quick to get a drink in both his and your hands. You scan the room, seeing the rest of the Marauders and your other friends. You aren’t looking for them though. You’re trying to see if you can spot the girl who is so beautiful and desirable that Sirius would switch up his methods to diminish the risk of losing her. 

“Let’s find your girl,” you say, leaning into Sirius’ shoulder. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he guides you around the room. You pause to say hi to some of your friends in Ravenclaw. You expect Sirius to keep walking in search of the girl. He doesn’t. He remains at your shoulder, giving friendly smiles to the people you’re talking to. You lead him toward where the other Gryffindors are gathered. 

“Black!” Marlene yells as she grabs him by his shoulders. “Thank you for getting her out!” 

You’re taken aback by her comment, although it wasn’t uncommon for you to miss a party. You often found yourself reminding your friends that Hogwarts was in fact a school and not a party central. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” he tells Marlene, grinning. 

He puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You feel your face burn so you try to hide it with your cup. Maybe you can pass it off as the room being too hot or being flushed from the alcohol. Only Sirius knows it’s your first drink, right? 

You try to focus on what your friends are saying and laughing about, but the feeling of Sirius’ arm, his hand and his body are too much. Your body feels like it’s being constantly electrocuted. You take slow sips from your cup, as if the drink will somehow alleviate the feeling. You can only imagine how this looks to his mystery girl. You pressed into Sirius’ side with his arm around you as he talks and laughs? You’re trying not to melt into his touch. You try to keep the idea of this other girl in your mind. But you like having his arm around you a bit too much. 

“Shit, this is a good song!” Sirius roars before lowering his voice to whisper in your ear, “Dance with me, lovely?” 

You look up with him with concerned eyes. “How will that look to that girl you really like?”

You hate that you have to keep reminding him that he was supposed to be looking for this girl and flirting with her, rather than spending all of his time with you. He just gives you his trademark smile.

“It will show off my amazing dancing skills. Come on, you didn’t say no!”

He pulls you away from your friends into the crowds of people dancing. Sirius is far more at his leisure than you are. You would much rather be on a bench off to the side, sipping on a new drink as the music fills your senses. At least, you think that until Sirius has his hands on your hips, helping you move to the music.

“Ah, there it is! She does have rhythm!” he cheers with his face close to yours. It’s close enough to feel the heat of his breath and to smell the spiked punch. 

Everything about the moment makes your heart pound in your chest. For a second, the idea of his mystery girl flits into your mind, but she is banished as Sirius spins you around. Your laughter mixes with his and the sounds of people around you, laughing themselves and singing along to the music. You never fancied yourself a dancer before now, but with Sirius so close and all of his attention on you, it feels right. You wouldn’t mind if you could live in this moment forever. 

When the music switches to something slower, you prepare yourself to see Sirius move back toward your friends. You don’t expect him to place his hands on your waist and pull you even closer. 

You don’t expect him to lean in and whisper, “Put your hands around my neck, sweetheart. That’s how you slow dance.”

You do as told. It makes it easier to hide your bright red face in his shoulder. You know how to slow dance; you just never did it with anyone before. You certainly hadn’t expected your first slow dance to be with Sirius. It made sense to a point though that it would be with your best guy friend, someone you were comfortable with. 

The song ends too soon for you. The next song is back to the upbeat rhythm that previously filled the room. Your heart beat is too loud in your ears to process it.

“I need another drink,” you tell Sirius before walking away from him.

You did need a drink, but you also need a moment away from him. ‘He’s in love with someone else’ is on repeat in your head. You can’t have yourself falling deeper in love with him when you know his heart belongs to someone else, someone he wouldn’t even tell you the name of. 

When you have a fresh glass in your hand, you turn to look for Sirius in the crowd where you left him. He’s not there. You spot him back with the Marauders. It makes you frown. He was supposed to be finding this girl and asking her to dance, not spending the whole night with you and the boys. You want to remind him of that, but something prevents you from doing it. You walk over to the girls, hoping that maybe they’re talking about something interesting.

“Isn’t this so much better than essays?” Lily asks, leaning almost all of her body weight on your shoulder as soon as you join them.

“I mean, I guess so,” you answer.

“Oh, please,” Mary laughs. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself with Sirius out there.” 

Your blush immediately returns.

“So is it a thing? You ‘n’ him?” she asks. 

Marlene turns her full attention to you at the question and Lily throws her arms around you in a hug. 

“It really should be!” Lily gushes, her voice far too loud in your ear. “You’d be so cute together! It’s obvious he adores you!” 

You smile as you shrug Lily off.

“Sorry to disappoint, but he’s infatuated with someone else,” you say, mockingly saying infatuated to make yourself feel better. You try to hold in a sigh. 

“Who?” Marlene demands. “We’ll take care of her!” 

“Dunno. He won’t tell me.”

Marlene and Lily don matching frowns and furrowed brows. 

“Darling! There you are!” Sirius’ voice booms.

The three girls glare at him.

“What’d I do?” he asks, his arm finding its place around your shoulders. 

“I’ll tell you what you did, Black,” Marlene starts.

“Nothing! You did nothing,” you say quickly, cutting Marlene off before she can say too much.

While you’ve never said anything directly about liking Sirius to them, you’re sure it’s obvious to them now and you’ll hear more about it tomorrow. 

“Well, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks cautiously, eyeing the girls who are still glaring daggers at him. 

“No, you’re not,” you say firmly, also eyeing the girls. 

You really hope they don’t say anything right now that would embarrass you and possibly hurt the friendship you have so carefully preserved. 

“Then I’m sure they won’t mind if I steal you away again!” he says cheerfully and steers you away from them.

He takes you to a quieter area down a few flights of stairs and stopping on a landing. Based on the doors you’ve passed, you figure you’re by the dorms. You’re glad that he took you down rather than up because the air is significantly cooler. 

“Did you find your mystery girl?” you ask as he leans against the wall, sipping his own drink that he must’ve refilled at some point.

He nods. 

You cock your head to the side. “Then why haven’t you stolen her away to this little spot?” 

He chuckles. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“You’ve already ditched her?” you ask accusingly. 

“No!” He stands up straighter and moves closer to you. “No, I’m with her right now.”

“But it’s just us here?” 

He takes another step toward you and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh, darling, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are so clearly not a Ravenclaw.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit. “Are you calling me stupid?” 

He throws his head back, laughing.

“Yes! Yes, I am.”

You scoff and take a step back from Sirius. 

“Well then.” You turn to go up the stairs because why did Sirius steal you away to insult you?

“No, listen!” He reaches out to stop you from heading back to the party. “You’re not stupid. Blind? Maybe. A bit dense right now? Yeah.”

“You’re not helping yourself,” you say dryly. 

“It’s you. You’re the… mystery girl, as you’ve been calling her. It’s been you the whole time.”

You freeze for a moment. 

“What?” you breathe. That can’t be right. 

“When I asked you about how girls flirt? I was asking how to know if you were ever flirting with me. But then you never did any of those things. Maybe one or two once or twice. So I asked how I could flirt with you. I know you enough to know that you wouldn’t want me to use those cheesy or dirty lines on you. You wouldn’t want an overtly public declaration of love to ask you to Hogsmeade. But even with your advice, you don’t seem to respond to me.”

He stops talking for what feels like an eternity. He’s scanning your face for a reaction, for any kind of sign from you, but all he gets is utter shock and confusion. 

“What?” you repeat in the same quiet voice of disbelief. 

He takes a step toward you so that his body is almost touching yours.

“The girl I really like and don’t want to mess things up with? She’s you. She’s been you for a while now. And I’m asking you how you feel about me because you can be so hard to read sometimes.” 

His voice is so soft and honest. You blink slowly as you gaze into those grey eyes you love so much. 

“She’s me?” you echo his sentiment. 

“Yes. Please, love, I need to know. Do you like me or have I just made a rather large fool of myself?”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come unless I did,” you whisper more to yourself than to Sirius, ignoring his question and the way his eyes filled with uncertainty as you did so. “That’s why you’ve been complimenting me more and offering to carry my bag. Oh…”

“Love?” he asks with a wavering voice. 

You’ve never heard him so nervous before. His hand slowly reaches up to cup your face. 

“Please…” he whispers.

“This is all… real?” you ask, placing your hand on top of his. 

“Yes. It’s so real.”

You smile. It’s wide and filled with the most joy you’ve ever felt. But then it disappears as you glare at Sirius.

“Don’t you ever call me stupid again,” you say firmly.

“I won’t.” There’s a beat of silence. “Wait, so do you-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. It was a moment of Gryffindor braveness that you usually didn’t showcase. It took Sirius by surprise. He takes a moment to process that you, the girl he’s been pining over for a while, is kissing him and that he should kiss you back. But he does and it’s everything you’ve dreamed it would be. All of those times you’ve thought about his mystery girl, you never really considered that she could be you. As much as you dreamed it, you never really believed you could be the girl he described as the sweetest, the most beautiful, the kindest and most wonderful, perfection. But you were and you felt it as Sirius wraps his arms around you to hold you close, even after you broke away from the kiss. 

“Oh, the girls were glaring at you earlier because I told them you liked someone else after they asked if we were dating.” 

“Hmm, too bad that someone else is you,” he mumbles against your shoulder, still not letting you go. “We can correct your misinformation later. You’re mine now.”

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: vi has crept up into your mind and is keeping put so to try to relieve some of that bubbling crush energy, you bake her some protein muffins. after delivering them to her, she invites you to isha’s birthday party. meeting her entire family is nerve wracking but you’re welcome with open arms.

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is an actual sweetheart, MY family (vander, isha, ekko, jinx, & sevika mentions), fluff and flirty tension, kind of slowburn but not really.

word count: 5.5K

a/n: what do y’all think of my new pfp?😝 i’m so glad everyone has enjoyed that first part of this little series. the overwhelming amount of support has touched my heart, i’m so sorry this took two weeks to come out i will try and be faster with the next part <3 & would 3 parts be too short? lmk in the replies!

— TWO

Making protein muffins was harder than you thought.

You had tried out multiple recipes with different flavors within the span of two days and it was driving your grandmother and your sister up the wall. Her kitchen now smelled like a mixture of all the different scents that were giving her a headache.

They were either dry, not enough flavor, too dense, not fluffy, too strong, etc. The list went on. But finally, on the third day of anxiously cooking, you perfected a beautiful and delicious batch of pumpkin muffins with a few blots of chocolate chips.

Ever since you found out that Vi worked at a kickboxing studio, it sparked an idea in your brain. You could bake some protein muffins to give her. Worried she wouldn’t like them, you double checked with her. You open your text thread with Vi, grinning at the last message she had sent you of the actual address of the studio so that you wouldn’t get lost.

Anxiously tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you stare at the sign above the studio with hesitation. You had done yourself up a bit; just a tad. Okay, a little more than a tad.

This was Vi’s first time seeing you outside of work and you wanted to make a better impression than messily tossed up hair and bundled up layered outfits. You sported a mini black skirt with a pair of opaque tights with an over the shoulder cherry red sweater, your hair left in its natural state. You stare at the black marker writing of Vi’s name on the box in the passenger's seat of your car.

Would she think you were trying too hard?

No, no, no overthinking, you scold yourself. You tug down your sun visor on your driver’s side to double check your makeup before grabbing your purse and the box of muffins for Vi. You open your driver's side to step out onto the gravel parking lot, sucking in a deep breath to calm your nerves as you tug on the cold handle to the door of the studio.

The moment you stepped into the dim lit area, you spotted Vi almost immediately. A black compression athletic tank hugged her upper body, showing off her muscular upper body. Her bandaged hands were landing blows to a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. The sound of her soft grunts and the clinking of the chain holding it up the heavy vinyl bag echoed within the space.

You stand at the edge of the large mat covering the area, unknowingly frozen in place at the sight of Vi’s veins popping out of her biceps with each punch she was throwing. You snap out of it when you realize how long you might’ve been standing there for, clearing your throat and shaking your head at how embarrassing that was.

“Vi, hi!” You wave from across the rubber gym tiles at her panting figure, a bright smile on your face.

Vi lowers her balled up wrapped fists that had been previously punching the bag to wave back at you, a smile creeping onto her lips at the sight of you holding the little tray of homemade treats. You looked like a doll out of place in this sweat-ridden studio in your adorably cozy outfit.

Vi made her way over to where you stood at the edge of the mat, eyes panning up and down as subtly as possible. Seeing her outfit up close caused a heat to tickle the tips of your ears. You swore you could see her abs through the material.

“Hey, cupcake. Those for me?”

“Yep! Thought I’d drop them off before I… head out.” You cleared your throat, nervously smiling at her as you fiddled with the cardboard of the box you had bought for this.

Vi grabs a small towel from a foldable chair where parents would sit through classes to wipe over the back of her sweat-ridden neck. She was so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. You couldn’t tell if you were staring at her as obviously as you thought. Worried you were going to seem like an absolute creep, your eyes blink as they focus on her face.

“Yeah? You have plans today?” Vi hangs the towel around her neck, crossing her arms over her chest.

The movement caused your eyes to flicker down to the protruding muscle. You were sure this time you were staring as her dark tattoos were glistening underneath the thin layer of moisture from her workout. God, you could hear your grandma now teasing you for getting distracted by muscles of all things.

“I mean I’m just going to the grocery store. Need a few more things for Isha’s cake.” You nod to confirm, flickering your eyes back up to hers.

They were somehow even more captivating than her biceps. Her lips twitch into a small grin, nodding slowly.

“The people at the store are very lucky.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto your lips.

“Shut up,” you look around at the equipment and trophies around the room to try and hide the heat that was undoubtedly forming on your cheeks. “Were you just working out here? Or did you have a class?”

“Yeah, I had a class earlier but it was for mostly 6 to 8 year olds so they didn’t beat me up too bad this time,” Vi jokes as she reminds you of her injuries from the last time you saw her.

You chuckle as you can only imagine seeing Vi with a whole group of children, gently encouraging them to take hits at her. Oh, your heart skipped at the thought.

“Yeah, I mean you look good now.” You blurt out without thinking.

Taking way too long to realize what had stumbled out of your mouth, Vi’s brows raise at your words as the faintest of smirks forms on her lips.

“Yeah?”

Your eyes flicker up to hers, self-consciousness washing over you once that realization sets in. Your mouth opens as you grip the box as some sort of comfort to ease the humiliation creeping up your neck.

“Not that you don’t look good all the time because you–you do! I mean, I don’t see you everyday but I’m sure you do,” you try and recover, voice becoming softer as you trail off.

Vi unfolded her arms from her chest to reach forward to rest them on your shoulders, faintly chuckling at your panic. “Cupcake, relax. I knew what you meant.”

You suck in a deep breath at her touch but you mask it as attempting to calm down from your frantic words.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll just leave these with you now,” you pat the top of the box, looking into her eyes. “I’ll see you soon so you can pick up the cake at the shop?”

Vi nodded in agreement with the set plan, taking the box of muffins from your hands. You nearly frown at the loss of touch that was somehow burning onto your skin even though you were wearing a thicker sweater.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon but,” she clears her throat, moving the box to rest on one of her forearms as she brushes her front pieces of hair to the side. “Did you want to come to Isha’s birthday party?”

“Seriously?” Your smile widens.

Vi nods, eyes crinkling a bit from her smile matching your own.

“Are you sure?” You question, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. “It won’t be awkward not being family or anything?”

“No, I mean. It’s a small party but I think you’d have fun,” Vi shrugs her shoulders, suddenly becoming more sheepish. “Isha wants you there. Couldn’t stop talking about the nice bakery lady.”

“Just Isha?” You tilt your head, hopeful that she would give you the answer that you craved.

Vi taps on the box with a small smile. “I want you there, too.”

Oh, your gram would be jumping with glee seeing this interaction. Your face ignites a flame at her honesty, nodding with a beaming smile.

“I’ll be there. I’ll just bring the cake then.” You nod, pushing back flyways from your hair.

“Okay, good. I’ll text you the address, cupcake.”

You nod for what felt like the millionth time at the pink haired girl, taking a step back to try to force yourself to leave her warm presence.

“Okay and if you like those, uh, muffins, let me know if you want any other protein snacks. I like a good baking challenge.” You motion to the muffins.

Please say yes, you internally begged.

“I will. Though, I doubt I won’t like them if you’re the one baking them,” Vi assures your frantic mind.

You grin at her awkwardly, not knowing how to take these little flirty gestures she would throw at you. At least, you thought they were supposed to be flirty.

“Okay, okay,” you wave your hands, chuckling sheepishly to yourself as you realize you’ve probably overstayed your welcome. “I’ll leave you to… your boxing stuff.”

Vi chuckles at your wording, pointing to the clear door.

“Have fun shopping. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you, Vi.”

You felt like throwing up from your nerves.

You had texted Vi later that day after dropping off the muffins what you should wear so that you wouldn’t be either too overdressed or underdressed. It was a child's birthday party, for God’s sake but you still didn’t want to be too out of place especially around her family.

from vi ♥︎ | Do you have any options?

to vi ♥︎ | kind of? i have ideas of what i could wear but i’m stuck :/

from vi ♥︎ | Let me see and I’ll tell you what looks best!

You nearly dropped your phone on your face at the message. Standing up from your bed, you scurried to your closet to pick out two options as you didn’t want to bombard her with photos of yourself. You quickly change in your planned outfits minus the shoes, sending both of them to her. You were panting from how you switched from one to the next.

from vi ♥︎ | Fuck, you look good in both

from vi ♥︎ | I was expecting this to be an easier decision but you really just look good in either.

to vi ♥︎ | violet :(

Could she tell how flustered you were from behind the screen?

from vi ♥︎| I’m serious

from vi ♥︎ | But if you want me to choose, I’ll say the first one!

to vi ♥︎ | thank youuu! i was stressed about that lol

from vi ♥︎ | You’re going to be fine. I promise :)

to vi ♥︎ | really?

from vi ♥︎ | Yes. You’re the lady bringing the cake. No one can hate the lady bringing the cake, duh.

to vi ♥︎ | yeah, yeah, okay. i’ll relax now.

Now you were standing at the front door of the small suburban home in that very outfit that Vi had chosen; a white tee with an espresso brown cardigan over it and a pair of your favorite baggy dark wash jeans. Your hair was half-up, half-down and your cleanest pair of Docs. You rang the doorbell just a few seconds ago, patiently waiting for someone to answer the door.

If you held your breath, you could hear muffled footsteps approaching the wooden door. The sound of the locks unlatching signals you to straighten your back, preparing yourself for whoever was going to answer the door. The hinges creak as it swings open to reveal Vi, sporting a welcoming smile.

Similar to you, she was wearing a brown cut off sleeve top, a white tank top underneath the open torso portion and a pair of black jeans. You try not to read into the matching colors too much.

“Hi! I was so scared I got the wrong house,” you chuckle as you stare into her eyes.

“Nope, you got it. Everyone is in the back. Come on,” Vi reaches for your hand, tugging you through the small house halls.

You nearly drop the cake as you urge her to slow down, releasing soft chuckles at her eagerness. You glance around at the cozy walls of the home, catching a few glances at a few family photos hanging and set up on shelfs. You made a mental note to try and sneak inside to get a closer look at those.

You step through a white chipping back door, Vi guiding you to the birthday party set-up for the precious child. Green streamers hung on the wooden fence to appear as vines as a photo op and a foldable table that was filled with wrapped and bagged presents with Isha’s name in balloons with a few animal print ones surrounding the inflatable letters as music played from a speaker. It wasn’t the coldest day as it was nearing the end of November but there was a slight breeze and the sun was shining beautifully to really wrap up the sight of this unknown family.

You hold up the cake underneath the white box, subconsciously gripping onto Vi’s hand due to the anxiety swimming through your veins.

“Come on. I want you to meet everyone,” Vi insists, a charming smile on her face as she walks up to a group of people that were sitting at a round table that had a jungle leaf tablecloth over it.

The whole table had cups of drinks in front of them, talking amongst each other with animated features.

“Hey guys,” Vi speaks up, her hand still holding yours gently.

A chorus of greetings overwhelms you in a good way as she goes around the table to name them off one by one.

“Okay, this is Jinx, my other sister,” she points to a pale skinned girl with two electric blue hip length braids, a few strands coming from the front to frame her face.

The girl smiles at you with kindness, eyes widening as she seems to realize who you are.

“You’re the bakery girl? That donut was delicious. I have full trust that the cake will be amazing,” Jinx nodded with a wink, leaning into the darker skinned boy next to her.

“That’s Ekko,” Vi chuckles as she points at white haired boy.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” he grins at you, nodding his head at you to show his acknowledgement of you.

“Hi!” You reciprocate the gesture, looking at the more broad woman on the other side of him.

“And Sevika. Don’t let that mean face scare you. Just wait until Isha comes down from the bouncy house.” Vi gave your hand a squeeze, a teasing grin on her face.

Sevika huffs at the pink haired girl's words but manages to press a semi-warm smile on her face in your direction. You nod with a more timid ‘hi’ leaving your lips. You didn’t want to say it out loud but she scared you a bit.

Okay, she scared you a lot.

“I think my dad’s inside but I’ll go let Isha know you’re here. Be right back.” Vi, after what felt like ages, released your hand to walk over to the bouncy house that was filled with a few more kids around Isha’s age.

The second her warm palm left your own, a wave of alarm washed over your features now being left alone with people that were closest to her. You turn to the group with the calmest expression you could muster to attempt to hide how nerve-wracking this was for you.

“You can relax, you know,” Jinx was the first to speak, tilting her head at your tense figure. “Here. I can take the cake. I’ll put it in the fridge.”

She stood up, reaching her pale hands out to you to take the cardboard box from you. You thank her quietly as you allow her to relieve you of that worry, leaving you alone with Ekko and Sevika.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be awkward,” you shake your head, taking the seat opposite to Sevika to leave Jinx’s spot still open.

“Vi told us how nervous you were so we were kind of expecting it,” Ekko admits which makes you wince a bit. “But, hey, we could do some ice breakers? Tell us something that’ll ease the tension.”

You nod at Ekko’s offer, pondering for a moment as you pick out a random fact from the depths of your brain’s memory log.

“Oh, I went to the hospital when I was 7 because I swallowed my Polly Pocket’s purse because my grandma said I had ‘wanted to know what it tasted like’.” You offer, glancing between the two strangers in front of you.

Sevika raised one of her palms to cover her mouth like she was trying to hide her amusement from your sentence. Ekko’s eyes widened as he snorted back a laugh, causing you to proudly smile at yourself on succeeding on breaking the ice just a bit.

“Jinx nearly burned my hair off when we were kids. She was obsessed with making homemade bombs,” Ekko shared with you, pointing to a mark in his eyebrows. “I still can’t grow hair in this spot on my eyebrow because of it.”

“I got this scar from her kicking me in the face when she wouldn’t go to the dentist when she was 9,” Sevika pointed at her half an inch scar on her top lip with a shake of her head.

“Okay so what I’m hearing is to stay clear of Jinx,” you joke.

This seemed to ease the tension between you and the two completely, them nodding to confirm. Slowly but surely, everyone started sharing stories of their childhood as did you. You learned alot about Vi and her little family through these two, feeling more connected to them already. As you shared what your jobs were like, you feel a smaller frame tackle you from the side. You look down to see a head of wild bronze waves cling onto your arm.

It was undoubtedly Isha. Vi stood behind her with a sweet smile, folding her arms over her chest before she pats Ekko on the back as she sits herself down on the other side of you. You send her a quick glance, her brows raising as if to check up on you and you nod to assure her.

“Hey birthday girl,” you look down at her, golden eyes staring into yours.

She makes a delighted sound, snuggling more into you. You rub a hand over her back for a moment before raising your hands to sign that she looked cute, motioning to her adorable birthday sash and bunny ears over her black and white striped tee.

Signing right back to you with an elated smile, she says; ‘you look beautiful.’

Your heart tightens at her kind words, signing a ‘thank you’ before tugging her into a gentle embrace. Her back was a bit damp from what you assume is the sweat from jumping around in the bouncy castle.

“She’s excited for her cake,” Vi hums as she stares down at her sister with a teasing grin.

Isha nods enthusiastically at her words to confirm said excitement, looking over to Ekko and Sevika and signing something that you didn’t pick up due to her turning away from you. They both nod, eyes following over to Vi’s figure next to you with raised brows. You turn to look at Vi in confusion at the silent communication but choose to mind your own business as Vi’s cheeks seem to match her hair now. You didn’t want to embarrass her further.

“Alright, who’s hungry? The pizza’s here!” A deep English accent comes from behind the group, a burly yet kind looking man comes from the back door which you came from carrying five pizza boxes.

Jinx trails behind him with two bags of ice stacked on her own arms.

“You hungry, cupcake?” Vi places a hand on your shoulder, jerking her head over to the man.

You suck in a deep breath at her words, feeling Isha’s fingers wrap around your own that were resting in your lap. You were unbelievably hungry but knowing that this was going to be your first impression of Vi's father made your stomach churn, attempting to suppress your hunger.

But you push through.

“Yeah, I could eat,” you nod to confirm, turning your head to the side to give her a composed smile.

Sevika and Ekko followed you and Vi’s lead as you both stood up from your seats again to walk across the slightly overgrown grass, nearly tripping as a few more children passed by your hips and legs to run towards the table full of cardboard boxes of pizza.

“Hey, hey, slow down. One at a time,” the man told the group of kids, pointing at them to grab the disposable plates.

“Dad,” Vi called, taking your right hand once again while Isha still clung to your other.

“And who is this, Violet?” He questions his daughter as he places a slice on a child's plate in the line they formed.

“Hi!” You speak up before Vi could as you introduce yourself.

The man nods at your introduction, a friendly smile on his face as he plates another child’s plate. His eyes flicker to his eldest daughter with a raise of his brows before focusing his attention on you.

“Vander. Vi’s told me alot about you,” he states as he points to the pink haired girl standing next to you. “You’re the sweet lady who made Isha’s birthday cake. Got to say, I saw it in the fridge and it’s absolutely perfect. Thank you for doing that for her.”

You felt overwhelmed by the compliments from the man, strangely having the urge to hug him but only tighten your grip on Vi and Isha’s hands.

“Oh, it really was so much fun to make too. I don’t get a lot of cake orders so I was excited to test myself, I guess,” you assure the man of your adoration with the job.

“You work up an appetite baking? We’ve got some fine cuisine here,” his voice was playful as he motions to the greasy boxes.

You nod to confirm which resulted in a strong Dad-like laugh to leave Vanders’ throat before he raised a hand to clap on your shoulder, tugging you towards the boxes now that all of the children had gotten their own pizza slices. You release the two sister’s hands before looking up at the man.

The entirety of the birthday party quickly became a party game frenzy after everyone hounded down their greasy food. There was cup stacking; Vi won that one, pin the tail on the donkey; Isha won that, limbo; you almost broke your back trying to do that, etc. You saw a more eccentric and playful side of Vi, cursing her for being such a bright person around her family.

It made her all the more attractive.

When you ended up being her partner for the wheelbarrow race, you felt like a freak for those good few seconds where you were holding her legs up by her ankles so she could use her hands to ‘run’ across the grass. You kept your eyes straight forward for as long as possible.

They lingered a bit downward because why the hell did her ass look good in black jeans? You nearly won but Isha and one of their little cousins who had come to the party won that round due to you being… well, distracted for a moment. She stuck the middle finger up and stuck her tongue out at Vi quickly before Vander could see, causing you and Vi to gasp before she celebrated with her cousin again with a cheeky grin.

Your real enemy ended up being the three legged race. You and Vi’s hips were touching, arms interlocked as a bandana was being tied around your thighs to keep you from separating. You suck in a deep breath as Sevika tightens the fabric, patting the area to tell you two it was good.

“Good luck,” Sevika tells the two of you, standing back up to move on to Ekko and Jinx who were next in the lineup.

Vi grins at the elder, looking over at you as she brushes her hair out of face.

“Who do you think is going to win, huh?”

“I know you want me to say us but I have high hopes for Ekko and Jinx. She’s very scrappy,” you admit with a soft laugh, your hand twiddling with a loose fabric on your cardigan.

Vi nods slowly in agreement at your words.

“And Ekko?” She hums.

“He matches that,” you lean in closer before pulling back as the wind blows your hair a bit.

This Vi chuckles at, not denying that accusation. Vander moves to the front very end of the fence of the backyard, cupping his large hands around his mouth to shout the countdown.

“On your marks,” he yells, “get set.”

He pauses dramatically before raising his left hand upwards to mimic a flag and slam it back down before yelling out: “Go!”

You and Vi immediately start to move yourselves forward, Jinx whining that you two were cheating already. Vi’s hard bicep tug into your own as she tried to keep you two from tripping.

Isha and one of her cousins were catching up to you quickly, their little legs beating you. Some force was on your side that day as you had stepped forward with your free leg and rolled your ankle a bit on what felt like a toy.

It happened too fast for you to comprehend but you fell to the ground. You turned to your back side without thinking and nearly twisted your ankle doing so.

Vi’s hand attempts to grab your forearm but in doing so, falls over with you. Her body covers your own, her weight laying on top of your own. You groan at the impact hitting your stomach and chest, looking down at your legs to see that the fabric of the bandana had ripped which was what caused Vi’s body to be on you and not next. Her body shifts to lift her upper body up to relieve that ache in your chest.

Vi lifts her head to stare down at you with a concerned expression, hands on either side of your head.

“Shit, are you okay?”

You tilt your head down to how Vi’s hips were pressed into yours and look back up to stare into her twisted expression.

“Yeah, I’m… good,” you lied through your teeth as the back of your head was now throbbing.

Vi’s eyes were searching your own for any sort of discomfort. Your chests were centimeters apart as you breathed heavily to try and catch your breath, eyes boring into one another's. Suddenly, your head and backache were forgotten about. You swore for just a moment Vi’s eyes flickered down to your lips before pushing up off of you, grunting as she stood to her feet.

She brushed off her jeans before leaning forward to wrap her hand around your forearm to help you up and off the grass. You allow her to tug you upwards to your feet, avoiding her glaze like the plague.

“Ekko and Jinx take the cake!” You hear Vander start to clap, wincing out loud. “You two alright? Kind of got caught up in the competition for a moment there.”

“Fine, Dad,” Vi replies as she watches you brush off your own legs, sucking in a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“A little headache but I’ll survive, Vi.” You shake your head, brushing your hair out of your face with a lighthearted chuckle.

You two sadly couldn’t speak for longer as Vander announced it was time for cake. Vi’s hand lingered on your arm as she ushered the two of you to the set-up, watching as Jinx carefully came out with the lit birthday cake. Your eyes round with admiration at Isha scrambling to sit still in her chair as her big golden eyes widen as everyone starts to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.

Watching the scene unfold sent a bittersweet sense of comfort, remembering how you were once that small with a family like this. You hoped Isha could have this forever, security and love wrapped into one. If a tear left your eye, you’d disguise it as it being from the impact just a few moments ago.

The party died down slowly as adults and other family members came to pick up the other children that were at the function, getting pieces of the cake shoved into their palms that Vi had been praising since she took her first bite. Feeling like you had overstayed your welcome as the family was now gathered in the kitchen area to clean up, you quietly tell Vi that you should probably head home.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll walk you out,” Vi holds her finger up to Jinx, Ekko, Sevika, and Vander who were in the middle of a conversation.

“Aw, what? You have to go home already?” Jinx furrows her brows, huffing out a breath. “I didn’t even get to embarrass Vi in front of you yet.”

You chuckle at her words while Vi grumbles a sound of annoyance at her sister.

“I’m sure you’ll do it soon enough. And yeah, I got baking duties to tend to.”

“Well, I hope we get to see you more often and not just so you can bring us cake,” Jinx stepped forward to give you a quick hug.

You pat her back with a new sense of welcoming into Vi’s family, nodding in agreement with that statement. You say goodbye to everyone, making sure to sign Isha one more ‘Happy Birthday’ to which she signs back what you think is ‘Bye, pretty cake lady.’

As you walk down the halls to the front door, Vi questions: “What are you baking next?”

Catching you off guard, you ponder for a moment.

“Well, I’ve been dying to make some cinnamon rolls but kneading the dough can be tiring.” You huff as you watch Vi open the door for you, allowing you to step onto the gray concrete walkway that leads to the driveway. “Why?”

“Just… wondering.”

Then an idea sparks in your head as you lean against your car, turning to face Vi with a hesitant smile.

“Did you want to come over to mine to help me bake them?” You offer quickly before you could fumble and retract the statement.

Vi’s dark brows raise into her hairline at your invitation.

“You just want me to knead the dough, don’t you?” She teases.

You blow out a breath of air as you shrug your shoulders as if it wasn’t the first thing you thought of. “I mean, if you really want to. I wouldn’t mind it.”

Vi purses her lips as she nods, trying to repress her beaming smile. “Yes, I do want to.”

A sense of accomplishment washes over you at how you successfully made it through today without having any major screw-ups.

“I really had a good time today. I forgot how much fun birthday parties can be,” you grin sheepishly as you stand by your car, the sunset lighting up the side of your face beautifully.

Vi’s smile only grew at how stunning you looked.

“I told you that you would. You should come over more,” Vi shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head at you.

You hum with a playful smile as you bump your shoulder with hers. “So I can get multiple concussions? I don’t think so.”

“Well, I can promise I can try to prevent as many of those as possible.”

You chuckle out an ‘okay’ at her words, fiddling with your cardigan sleeve. There was a beat of silence between the two of you, the soft breeze sending shivers down your spine. Your bad habit of admiring her silently; nearly creepily hit you when you made eye contact with her, her brows raising at you challengingly.

“Right, yeah, so I’ll let you know when I have everything to make the cinnamon rolls,” you stated as your hand hovered your driver's side door handle, snapping out of your temporary trance.

Vi’s arms folded over the front of her chest, scuffing her shoes on the concrete of their driveway as she rocked her on her heels.

You find her eyes once again, taking in a confidence wielding breath as taking a step forward to wrap your arms around her neck. Vi was taken aback for half a second, breath hitching before she let her arms drop from their spot to hold you up your torso with one arm as the other raised to cradle the back of your head with her hand. You bury your head into her neck to cling onto the warmth for as long as you could.

“Thank you again for coming, cupcake. I’ll see you soon, alright?” Vi says gently into your temple, sliding her hand off of your head.

“Yeah,” you suck in a deep breath, “I’ll see you.”

Achingly doing so, you detach yourself from her embrace to finally get into your car. Vi stood in the driveway as you reversed and drive off, waving at you until you were down the road.

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[jamespotterismydaddy]

Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

  You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?” 

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him. 

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him. 

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.” 

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.” 

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

 He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant. 

 “What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.” 

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously. 

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?” 

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

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[ozarkthedog]

𝐊𝐍𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏

summary: joel fingers you for the first time in his truck.

warnings: 18+ mdni. joel miller x afab!reader. no physical descriptors of reader. fingering (pussy and ass). heavy ass play. Joel being a fucking menace. no beta. w.c: 823

author's note: had this thot for the last few days and had to write it out before i went insane but now i'm taking you all with meeee

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Joel's two knuckles deep in your cunt while an old country tune quietly floats from the radio into his dimly lit truck that's parked on the side of a dusty road. He languidly fucks his thick digits between your sopping folds, each thrust making your breath hitch more than the last. 

He's taking it slow, figuring out what spots make your cunt spasm and quiver for the very first time. It's a mess of limbs in the front seat; your skirt is rucked up your hips, legs bent at the knee, and he's holding you against his side, cradling your head in the crook of his arm.

"Righ' 'ere?" he grits, swallowing hard as you clamp around his fingers. 

You grab at his worn button-up, tightly fisting the material with a needy whine as a wave of pleasure burns deep, and he doubles his efforts with a twist of his wrist. "That's it. Come on, pretty girl, there you go."

Joel curls his fingers, seeking the fleshy spot behind your clit that makes you see stars and forces you to the edge listening with perverted delight to your frantic cries.

He leaves his fingers in your obscenely wet pussy just a bit longer, enjoying the feeling of your cunt convulsing from the aftershocks. He teases his soaked fingers along your slit when he withdraws them, toying with your folds and puffy, hairy outer lips before moving south.

A gasp catches in your throat as he cautiously circles your rosebud.

"Ever been touched 'ere?" Bright moonlight casts off his dark coffee-colored eyes as he searches your face for discomfort.

All you can muster is a broken "No," and he hums a deep rumble. It sounds like the beginning of a summer storm, and the ominous tone sets a blazing fire in your belly.

"s'ok if I keep goin'?" he asks, timidly looking down at you through his lashes. He shifts his hips, grinding his cock against your outer thigh. You mewl upon feeling his hard, throbbing length through his jeans.

You dumbly nod, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your mouth drops open, panting, as he slowly presses one thick digit into your ass. He curses at your tightness but keeps moving until his knuckles graze the soft globes of your cheeks. "S'fuckin' tight lil' ass you got there, sweetheart." He croons, nudging his nose along your jaw and tipping your head back before branding you with a searing kiss.

You moan wantonly as he licks into your mouth and starts slowly fucking you. "Tell me how it feels." He husks, breaking the kiss.

His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and nipping his way down to your clavicle as your mind searches for anything remotely resembling words.

A mess of mumbled moans and broken curses stumble from your lips into the small truck cabin. Your hips move on their own, wanting his finger deeper and faster, but he never breaks his steady stride. He chuckles against your skin. "This sweet rose wants more, huh? First time bein' touched, and she's already gettin' greedy."

He leans back, pinning his eyes on where he's stretching you open, and groans at the filthy sight of his syrupy, thick fingers stretching your small, shiny hole. He meets your wild doe eyes with a wolfish grin before pursing his lips and spitting.

The shock of his warm spittle landing on the rim of your sensitive hole makes your insides violently churn, and a yearning, brazen moan spills from your lips.

"Gotta make sure it's nice n' wet," he says while lining up a second finger, still piercing your gaze. "Don't wanna hurt 'er."  

He watches your face twist from the pressure as he slowly glides two sizeable fingers into your snug hole. "S'ok, you can take it," he calmly encourages, kissing the pinched skin between your brows. 

He raises his thumb up and over your pusling, weepy core, and plants the heavy pad on your clit. He suffocates the tiny button, earning himself a full-on quiver and high-pitched wail from your defenseless, blissed-out body. 

"Thatta girl. Feels good, don't it?" he grunts, thrusting his fingers deeper.

A solid buzz blossoms in your veins under his wicked touch. The dual action he's doling out with his insanely massive hand makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. So overcome with the depraved rapture, you can't help but give in to the delirium.  

"Can feel you loosenin' up. S'good girl," he coos, smiling down at you even though your eyes are crossed dumb from the sheer euphoria racing through your veins. 

"Pretty soon, she'll be stretched around my cock." he informs, hissing when he feels you tighten at his words. Your mouth falls open with a silent wail, and your spine bends like a bow ready to strike as he purrs sinfully in your ear. "Tha's righ'. Gonna make this sweet rose take every fuckin' inch."  

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