#i have really light eyebrows compared to my hair

[tempestaslokni]

Within the dim light of the bungalow, Selin's eyes were easy to make out, and her shadow stretched across the floor languidly. Somehow the lowlight made everything feel more relaxed, yet heady at the same time. Maybe he was drunk, but he found himself leaning over his mug, gently breathing in fresh air that was tinged with the earthy scent of the tea. As Selin approached the table, she seemed to be deep in thought. When she neared, her brow smoothed as she took a seat. Lokni cleared his throat before breaking the silence, "something on your mind?" He was still getting to know her, her expressions still challenging for him to read. That wasn't about to stop him, however. His mind drifted back to the yearlings he had started, how they had to figure things out between one another. A world without words was difficult to navigate, but there was something deeply grounding about it. It was slow progress at times, but infinitely rewarding. Though, comparing Selin to a horse was probably not very respectful. "That's mighty kind of you. I might take a look through, although I don't want to take too much. I don't usually wear much when I sleep," the last part kind of slipped out, the wine easing confessions past the checkpoint of his brain before he even got a chance to scan them. An awkward pause followed. "Comfy looks great on you too- really anything does," he stumbled over his words, flustered. He took a deep breath, silently telling himself, 'just slow down. One thing at a time.' It didn't help that her compliment went straight to his head, his face darkening in the low light of the bungalow. These clothes looked "good" on him? He made a skeptical face at the Margaritaville shirt. She had interesting taste, but he wasn't complaining. "I wanted you here" echoed throughout his mind as he brought the mug to his lips in an attempt to hide his shy smile. This was followed by the sensation of Selin's bare foot gently nudging against his leg. He had been mid-sip of his tea and he spluttered in surprise, barely managing to not spill all over himself. Heat rushed to his face, a recurring theme of tonight's events. Attempting to pull himself together he met Selin's brown eyes, "It'd be my pleasure to return the favor. I'd like it if you came by my camp. I don't have a kitchen, but I can pull together a meal. Few things beat fresh fruit, the smell of a bonfire, and a clear view of the stars."

Lokni watched as Selin gazed at him, a pensive expression on her face before she asked about his hair. He raised a humored eyebrow. Nobody on the island had asked about his hair, so this was a pleasant first. "No need to apologize. I occasionally braid it. Most of the time I wear it down," he replied, taking one of the long strands and holding it between his thumb and forefinger, the end of the strand flowing like a waterfall down his forearm. He took a moment to think, tilting his chin to the side a bit before saying, "how 'bout we make a deal; you braid my hair, and I'll braid yours?"

Selin felt like she was going through a mix of emotions but the shower and the wine still in her system made it all hazily blend together. She was a little nervous, but she was giddy about Lokni staying over. The use of the word date in a place like this, what kind of people went on dates while their lives were on the line every day? It felt crazy to her to feel the butterflies in her stomach instead of using her energy to figure out how to go home. But getting home wasn't as easy as snapping her fingers, focusing all her energy on it would surely cause insanity. All of this filtered through her mind until she had to tell herself to relax and just enjoy the night. Turn off her brain until she woke up the next morning sober.

Hopefully next to Lokni, but Selin understood if he would find comfort sleeping in some other part of the house. She wondered then if he was using this time to make up the couch for himself in her absence. When she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes did drift over to the couch that had been left untouched, before she took in Lokni sitting at the small table with a cup of tea for each of them.

"Thank you. I don't mind drinking it here. I don't know if I really have a favourite spot, but...right here is good." She smiled as she took a seat at the table, thinking that really, right now, any spot in this bungalow that they were sharing could be her favourite spot. Selin took a sip of her tea, glancing up at Lokni from her cup as he thanked her for letting him stay here, as if she did that because there was no other option. "You don't have to thank me. I wanted you here." She told him earnestly, using her foot to gently nudge his leg under the table.

"You can keep them if you want." She responded about the clothes. "And you can look through the bags I have for other options too. If you need more clothes, that is. But a few comfy options are always good. And...comfy looks good on you." She looked down at her own outfit, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear, stopping herself from stupidly responding by informing him she would usually be wearing less if she was alone. Guys don't want to hear that their presence makes you put on more clothes. So she thanked him before taking a moment to look him over.

Not just his facial features or the way his dark eyes seemed to be lit up even in the dim lights in her bungalow. Selin found herself more fixated on his hair, long, still damp from the shower and slicked back as the ends draped over his shoulder. "Do you ever braid your hair to tie it back or do you prefer to wear it down?" She asked, curious about his personal preferences for handling his hair. "Sorry if that sounds out of nowhere, I just thought it would look nice braided."

[simplyghosting]

Well, as of this week, I can finally say, I have worn and now own a wig.

[shoveitevil]

four days

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ told you so 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men kissing you during an argument

୨ৎ── . Caleb

You walk fast—heels clicking against the pavement, every step fueled by the mix of anger and embarrassment boiling inside you. The crisp evening air nips at your cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rising from the mortifying scene Caleb just caused.

“Babe, wait! Please!” His voice is close behind, deep and breathless, but you don’t slow down.

You cross your arms tighter. “I told you to stop following me.” “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to—” His footsteps get louder as he catches up. “I just—he was way too close to you.”

You spin around so fast that he almost runs into you. “Too close? He was asking if I wanted coffee, Caleb!” you wave your hands in frustration, the image of your colleagues’ awkward stares still fresh.

He flinches but steps closer, towering over you, muscles tense beneath his hoodie. “I know. I messed up. I just…I hate the way guys look at you.”

You scoff and turn again, storming forward, but he’s right there, matching your pace. “Stop following me!”

“Not until you talk to me.”

You halt, shoulders tense. “And what should I tell you? That you’re an idiot?”

His lips twitch into the softest smile, like he’s grateful to even hear you insult him. “Whatever you want. I just miss your voice.”

You sigh, still looking at him with a harsh gaze. “Caleb—”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, cutting you off.

You huff. “I was saying—”

Another kiss. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop kissing me when I’m—”

Peck.

“—trying to talk!”

A longer peck.

Your hands press against his chest, but it’s more to steady yourself than push him away. “It was just a colleague, Caleb. He wasn’t hitting on me.”

“I know…” he mumbles cradling your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones soothingly. “I overreacted.”

“You think?” you mutter sarcastically against his lips.

He chuckles, eyes full of that maddening mix of regret and adoration. “I just… I can’t help it. You’re mine.”

Your heart softens, just a little. You sigh, resting your forehead against his chest. “You have no reason to be jealous, you know I only have eyes for you.”

“And I for you.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll bolt again. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Looking up, you shoot him a playful glare before letting a giggle escape your lips. “You’re such an idiot.”

His grin grows wider as he leans down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

You’re lying in bed, curled under the covers, warm and cozy—except for one glaring problem. The big light overhead is still on, shining down on you both like some relentless interrogation lamp.

“Can you turn it off?” you mumble, too comfortable to move.

Rafayel, with his head resting lazily on your chest, lets out a deep, dramatic sigh before slowly lifting his head to look at you. His tousled hair falls into his eyes and he gives you his best attempt at puppy eyes—big, soft, and just a little bit sulky. “Sweetheart,” he drawls, pouting, “I’m so comfy. And warm. And cozy next to you.” he emphasizes his point cuddling more into your side.

You snort, unimpressed. “Nice try, but I got up last time. It’s your turn.”

He groans, flopping onto his back like a starfish. “But I painted all day! My arms, my poor arms, they’re like noodles. I’m basically a ghost of a man now.” he throws an arm over his forehead for dramatic effect.

You roll your eyes, already used to his theatrics. “A ghost who’s fully capable of walking the five steps to the light switch.”

He turns his head toward you, mischief sparking in his tired eyes. Slowly, he crawls back over, propping himself up on one elbow. “What if…” he starts, voice low, “I give you a kiss?” his fingers gently tilt your chin up.

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you—soft and lingering, his lips warm against yours. When he pulls back, a cocky smirk tugs at his mouth. “That do it?”

You stare at him flatly. “I’m still not moving.”

His smile falters and he lets out another heavy sigh, before dramatically collapsing on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress as he spreads his arms and legs like a human blanket. “I’m too tired,” he mumbles against your collarbone. “This is it. I live here now.”

“Rafayel, you’re crushing me.”

“This is your punishment for not appreciating my kiss.”

You try to wiggle free but his arms tighten around you like a koala. “Seriously, we can’t sleep with the light on.”

“We’ll adapt,” he murmurs, already sounding half-asleep.

You both lay there, stubbornness thick in the air, neither willing to move. The soft hum of the lamp above is the only sound between your bickering breaths.

Minutes pass, your eyelids grow heavy, and eventually, you give in—not to turning off the light, but to the warmth of him sprawled over you, his steady breathing slowing. You sigh, before sleep takes over—both of you tangled together under the too-bright light, too stubborn and too in love to care.

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The wind whips through the street, biting at your skin, but you keep your chin high, refusing to shiver. Sylus strolls beside you, completely unfazed, his long white hair tousled by the gusts, red eyes practically glowing with amusement.

“Told you this would happen.” he says, his voice laced with smugness.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye. “Told me what?”

He gestures at your shivering jacket-less self. “That this would happen. You never listen to me. It was sunny for like five minutes, and you just—what? Thought winter vanished?”

You cross your arms, trying not to let your teeth chatter. “I’m perfectly fine.”

His grin widens. “Really? Because your lips are turning blue and you’re shaking.”

You scoff. “I already told you that I’m fine.”

Sylus lets out a low chuckle and begins to shrug off his thick coat, holding it out to you. “Here. Before you turn into an icicle.”

You eye the coat like it’s some sort of trap. “I don’t need it.”

“Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I’m not stubborn.”

“You’re literally freezing.”

“I’m not.” But the tremble in your voice betrays you. Worse, your lips start quivering, and you can’t stop them. Damn it.

Sylus’s teasing smile falters, his sharp eyes softening with concern. “Hey..” he murmurs, stepping closer. Without another word, he cups your cheeks, his hands warm against your icy skin, and leans down to kiss you.

His lips are soft and heated, chasing away the cold. You feel his hands glide down your arms, fingers brushing over the goosebumps before sliding around your waist. In one smooth motion, he pulls you tightly against him, wrapping his coat around the both of you. His scent—warm and familiar—envelops you as much as the fabric does.

You melt into his chest, feeling the warmth seep into your frozen limbs.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes filled with something softer now. “There. Better?”

You huff, but your cheeks are flushed—not just from the cold anymore. “You cheated.”

He smirks. “You’re warm now, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers clutch the fabric of his coat tighter. “...Yeah. Maybe.”

His grin returns, full force. “Told you so.”

୨ৎ── . Zayne

You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Zayne munch on your cookie—the last cookie—the one you’d been dreaming about all afternoon. His green eyes widen when he notices you, mid-bite, like a deer caught in headlights, but it’s too late. The damage is done.

“Zayne.” Your voice is sharp, dripping with betrayal.

He freezes, cookie halfway to his mouth. “What?”

You gesture dramatically to the now-empty container on the counter, filled with nothing but sad little crumbs. “You ate my cookie. The one I saved. The one I was going to eat as a reward.”

He blinks, then swallows. “I…I’m sorry, I ate it without thinking.”

Groaning, you stomp out of the kitchen, leaving him behind with the offending crumbs. You flop onto the couch, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, an annoyed pout settling on your face. You hear his footsteps approaching, slow and hesitant.

“Love…” His voice is soft, like he knows he’s walking into dangerous territory. “There are still some brownies left, you want them?”

You don’t even look at him. “Not the point.”

He carefully steps closer, holding up an imaginary peace offering. “I can warm them up. They’re gooey. Chocolatey. Even better than a stupid cookie.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” you mutter, but the traitorous growl of your stomach echoes through the living room.

There’s a beat of silence. Then you notice it—Zayne biting back a smile.

“Really?” you snap, shooting him a glare.

He grins shamelessly, a little glint in his eyes. “How about this? I’ll bake you more cookies. Fresh ones. But…” He leans closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “it’ll cost you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Cost me?”

“One kiss,” he nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re about to roll your eyes when he doesn’t even wait for your answer. He dips down, catching your lips in a soft, warm kiss. It’s sweet—too sweet—and when he pulls back, you blink at him.

“You taste like chocolate.” Despite yourself, your annoyed pout melts into a reluctant smile. Maybe one kiss—and some fresh cookies—weren’t such a bad deal after all.

୨ৎ── . Xavier

You shift on the couch, curled up beside Xavier, who’s been glued to his phone for the past hour. His blue eyes are locked on the screen, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he scrolls through yet another dumb video.

“Hey,” you start, voice light. “do you wanna watch that movie I’ve been dying to see?”

No response—just the faint sound of whatever clip he’s watching. But you catch the slight curve of his lips, a tiny smile hidden behind his phone and you take that as a silent ‘yes’ to your question. Hopping off the couch, you stretch your arms briefly. “I’ll grab snacks. Can you search for the movie in the meantime?”

“Mmhm” he hums without looking up, still lost in whatever rabbit hole he’s fallen into.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing popcorn, candy and drinks, even taking the time to slice some fruit because, well, balance. When you return with your arms full,you find him in the exact same position you left him—phone still in hand, thumb lazily scrolling.

You stare at him, your patience evaporating. “I can’t believe you right now.”

He hums again, barely acknowledging you. That’s it.

You slam the snacks onto the table, tug on your jacket, and start slipping on your shoes. The sudden movement finally breaks through his phone-induced trance.

“Wait—where are you going?” His head snaps up, red flushing his cheeks slightly.

You roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. “Home. If I’m gonna be ignored, I might as well do it in my own apartment.”

He stands lazily, as if this is all some mild inconvenience. “Didn’t you want to watch a movie together?”

“Oh, wow, so your ears do work!” you spat sarcastically. 

You head for the door, but before you can reach it, Xavier steps in front of you, blocking your path with his tall, broad frame. His big eyes glint with something teasing, but there’s a softness beneath it.

“You’re not actually mad at me,” he says, voice low and confident.

Your jaw tightens. “I am mad.”

He tilts his head, studying you, then gently cups your face in his large hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “I wasn't giving you the attention you deserve.”

Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you—slow, tender, and apologetic. When he pulls back, your tough facade crumbles a little. Despite yourself, your expression softens slightly.

You sigh, dropping your eyes. “Do you…do you think I’m boring or something?”

His entire demeanor shifts. “What?” His voice is laced with genuine concern now. He peppers your face with soft, quick kisses—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose—before meeting your gaze again. “Of course not! Listen, I was just being an idiot. I should appreciate every single second that I can spend with you instead of wasting time with some useless video.”

He grabs his phone and turns it off in front of you. “See? You have my undivided attention now.”

Your heart does a stupid little flip.

“Good,” you mutter, crossing your arms wanting to still look mad at him, but the little smile on your face betrays you.

He grins, taking your hand and leading you back to the couch. “Now, let’s watch that movie, properly this time.”

[asraxfile]

ғᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ

sypnosis the hatred that had been pouring out for years between your and Karina's mafia was a bit exhausting. But your bad relations change one day when you and Karina decide to meet and change everything, alone.

pairing mafia leader!Karina x mafia leader!fem!reader

genre smut, fluff, enemies to lovers

warnings: sexual activity(strap-on, pussy eating, dirty talk), kissing, cursing, teasing, mentions of reader smoking, Karina and reader as switches

word count: 2.8k

It was a clear day in Seoul. Various clouds covering the bright sky as Karina made her way towards your building. With her men in black suits she looked at the camera on the front door. As it scanned her pretty face, she pierced with the look in her eyes, knowing you were the one watching on the other side of the camera. 

Karina was the boss of the 2nd most powerful mafia in Korea. She wasn’t the type to get her hands dirty as long as she could keep the business going, but you were totally the opposite one. Surpassing the number of crimes committed compared to Karina’s mafia made you the number 1 in Korea. No one ever dared to step on your path, except Karina herself. 

That’s the exact reason why both of your families have been longtime enemies throughout the far distant history. Both of you followed your family’s steps but many things need to be cleared on this day. 

As she made her way out of the elevator’s long ride to your office that is positioned on the last floor, 12th floor, Karina walked through the long hallway with seriousness, kinda scaring your guards. But still they welcomed her in your office, eyeing her mysterious figure. 

Karina wore a black short sleeved dress, with half of her back exposed, with laced black thighs and of course her detailed black suit with thin white stripes. Her dark brown hair was let down, matching the professionality in her face. The stomping of her thick heels on her boots stopped as she waited for your office door to open. 

“Don’t come inside with me, I’ll be fine on my own.” Karina hissed at her guards, strict and sharp but they obeyed with her exact word. She watched your guards finally open the door as she stepped inside, being enlightened by the light out of your large window. 

You were turned with your back as you sat on the chair, a little smoke could be seen coming out from behind. "So Karina," you began as you spun your chair towards the person you were expecting. Taking the last puff of your cigarette. "we meet again, who would’ve thought, right?" you smirked at the mafia president, Karina, as she slowly walked towards your table. 

“Don’t be silly, both of us knew this day would eventually come.” Karina chuckled, holding her expensive Prada bag. You turned your gaze to your now long gone cigarette as you squeezed it into the ashtray. “That’s a really nice bag you have there.” you complimented as you got closer to the table and rested your arms on it, looking up at Karina. Curiosity splattered all over your face. 

“It indeed is,” Karina starts, putting the bag in front of her on the dark wooden table of your office. “There’s a present for you in it,” you raised a brow at her state. “But you will get it later.” she released her fingers from the bag and crossed her arms, sizing you up carefully.

“A present? from Miss. Yu Jimin? for me?” leaning back on your chair, you mocked. In response Karina rolled her eyes. “Must be my lucky day, but should I be concerned or flattered?” you asked. 

Karina’s lips slowly turned into a cheeky but a teasing smile, making you furrow your eyebrows. “It should be…pleasuring.” she exclaimed as you tried to understand what she meant by that. She slowly walked closer to you, the low click of her boots slicing through the silence like a knife.

Your eyes followed her every movement, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt heavier, thick with unspoken distant words. Karina placed her palms on the edge of your desk and leaned closer to your sitting figure, her face inches from yours. 

The room seemed to get even quieter as Karina leaned into your space, the cool scent of her perfume blending with the faint smoke of your cigarette lingering in the air. Her gaze locked onto yours, the weight of her presence bearing down on you. 

Through it all, Karina was always so unpredictable from your point of view, always so quiet but so unforgettable. That’s the reason why you were kinda terrified of her, but you loved her like that. Perhaps one of the main reasons to clear up all the bloodshed between your families is not just to make eternal peace between them, but to make you and Karina the most unforgettable and fearless duo, ever. 

Her lips curved into a faint smirk, one that you loved to see the most. “You talk so seriously, yet you tremble when I’m this close.” her words pierced through your mind like a dagger, surprising you but you refused to show it. “Am I?” you mocked, slightly turning more towards her. “Cause I thought we were playing the same game.” 

Karina’s breath hitched, slightly darkening her eyes, but keeping her teasingful grin. You straightened your back, moving forward to your enemy. “What is it, Jimin, looks like this game isn’t yours to own.” you teased, watching Karina’s chestnut brown hair fall to one side of her shoulder as she moved ever forward to you. 

She placed a hand on your shoulder as a signal for you to move backwards with your chair. You didn’t flinch, you just obeyed under her touch. Karina’s smirk deepened, her confidence unshaken with the same serious look from the start. With a swift move, she leaned in to whisper into your ear. 

“If I wanted to own you,” she said, her voice sounding like a predator trying to catch his prey, like a cat going for a mouse. She looked at you “you’d already be mine.” with the last said word, she quickly pulls you into a rough kiss, making you grunt in surprise. She groped your shoulders as she continued to kiss your soft lips, messing your face up with her lipstick, also crumpling your white shirt. 

To obtain control, you roughly pull her in your lap as she sits on the middle of your thigh with her legs spread open, her dress lifting in a sudden movement. Your arms exploring her torso as Karina puts a hand on your neck, making you choke a little. Slowly she pulls away as she softly opens her eyes to look at you. Breathless, you could just smirk. “You’re always full of surprises, dear.” you flirt as you suddenly lift Karina up. Moving away all the things from your table and slamming her body down. 

The sudden movement made Karina moan in slight pain in your ear which only aroused you more. Her legs wrapped firmly around your hips as she held your shoulders tightly, digging her black nails in your back. You attacked her neck with wild and rough kisses, sucking on her sweet spot leaving a fresh hickey. 

“Hahh…L/n…” she moaned your last name out, trying to think but she couldn’t. As you move your kisses to her collarbone, you raise your head to face her. “Why so formal, it’s not like we’re strangers.” you exclaim, slowly tracing your fingers to the zip of her dress. 

Karina gulped bluntly as she could feel the heat started to rise in her the slower you unzipped her black dress. “Who’s trembling now?” you teased, checking Karina out as you took off her boots and slid her laced thighs off her too. Karina now in a bra and panties. 

You checked her out as Karina quickly sat up and pulled you closer by your black tie, making you kiss her all over again. She unbuttoned your shirt through the kiss and after she did, you started to slide them down her body again. 

Karina enjoyed this too much, getting lost under your touch. You traced hot kisses down her chest, her stomach and finally you came to her panties. The coldness of your hands sent chills down her spine as she couldn’t wait anymore. She needed you, right this instant. 

Slowly, you looked down in between her legs and brushed your cold thumb over the fabric of her panties, right over her pussy. Loving the little sounds Karina makes. Now it was her turn to tremble under your touch. 

You slowly slid down the laced black pair of panties down her legs and did not hesitate to leave Karina waiting. Kissing her inner thighs, Karina rested one leg on the edge of the table and the other on your shoulder. You kneeled on the floor and pulled her hips closer, placing a tender kiss on her clit. Sucking and slurping Karina could feel the heat between her legs rise up even more with your each lick. 

She gripped your hair, looking down at you with a furrowed expression as she moaned in pleasure. Karina rested on her elbows, rolling her eyes. You sure knew how to get this woman to obey. 

Slowly sliding your tongue across her clit, you moved your head around a constant rhythm, making Karina’s already shaking. Then, slowly you insert 2 of your fingers deep in her cunt, making her release a loud moan. “Y-Y/n…right there…please, more-ah!” you pumped your fingers in and out of her, hitting her sweet spot as you looked at her. “C’mon dear, cum for me.” you whispered as you started licking her clitoris once again. A tear of pleasure sliding down Karina’s eye as she breathed out, finally cumming on your fingers. 

You kiss her inner thighs as you raise your head up to face her, obviously smirking. “Cat got your tongue?” you teased as you watched her catch her breath. “Whoo….that was…hahh…really good.” Karina stuttered out, getting her legs off you and sitting up. You proudly chuckle as you sit in your chair. 

“Hey, hey, what are you doing, baby?” she stood up, slowly walking to the front side of the table as you watched in confusion. “Tell me who said that…” she rummaged through her bag before looking at you again. “We were done…?” she pulled out a strap out of her bag, widening your eyes. “Ahh, so that’s my present.” Standing up you take off your black pants, throwing them aside as you walk towards Karina. “I’ll be glad to use it.” as you try to take the strap away, Karina back it away from your grip. 

“Dear, you don’t use gifts, you receive them.” she exclaimed nastily, smirking widely at you. 

The next thing you knew that Karina was fucking the shit out of you with that goddamn strap of hers. She bent you over your table and thrusted inside of you like she’d done it numerous times. “You like this?? Oh I know you like this, baby,” she teased, slapping and groping your ass tightly. You were a moaning mess, but you didn’t care, you wanted to show Karina you were hers and hers only. Suddenly, Karina slows down her pace, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck. 

Breathless, you couldn’t think. “Such a good girl for me, not even caring that our guards might be hearing your sweet little noises from behind the door.” she whispered deeply in your ear. “I’m gonna make you realize we belong together.” getting into position again, she started thrusting slowly, passionately and once again, roughly. 

“Ahh…hahh…K-Karina…faster please!!” you begged and moaned Karina’s name, making her chuckle. Slapping your ass again she fastened her movements. Fucking you rotten like a bunny. Enjoying this view a little too much, looking down on you was always her job anyway. 

“I can feel you’re close, y/nn, c’mon, cum for me." she fastened her thrusts even more as your moans got louder before you finally came on her strap. Your legs shaking as Karina pulls out, staring down at your gift and all the juices you splattered on it. 

“Fuck Y/n, that was so hot.” Karina exclaimed as you tiredly sat on the edge of the table. Softly, Karina smiles at you as she kisses the top of your head, hugging your naked body. “So this is how we fix both family conflicts?” you asked, both of you chuckling. 

“Be for real now, you are too desperate for me.” Karina teased back as you kissed her shoulder before looking at her once again. “And you’re nothing without me.” you peck her lips as both of you fall into a chuckle again. 

When both of you got dressed up, you said your goodbyes with Karina and walked her towards the exit of your building. Feeling proud that both of your mafia’s are now on good terms all because Karina was your favorite enemy of all time. She had always been the one who pushed you to your limits, testing your patience and well being. Yet, there was a strange sense of tension between the two of you that no one could quite understand but you dearly cherished with only her.

[lazysoulwriter]

coming home drunk. - pedro pascal. (the morning after)

second part for this one, read first. requested. hope you love it! ♡

---

The groan from the other side of the bed was my favorite sound of the morning.

I rolled onto my side, propping my head up on my hand as I watched Pedro slowly wake up, his face buried in the pillow, hair a complete disaster. He looked deeply unwell.

“Good morning, my little buttered toast,” I teased.

Another groan.

I grinned. “Feeling okay?”

“No,” he mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow. “I think I died. This is the afterlife.”

“Oh, really?” I bit back a laugh. “That would explain why you were confessing your undying love for me last night like a tragic Shakespearean hero.”

Pedro peeked one eye open, immediately squinting like the daylight had personally offended him. “… What?”

I rolled onto my back dramatically.

“‘You’re my oxygen! My light! My toast with butter!’” I mimicked.

Pedro groaned even louder and pulled the blanket over his head. “No. Nope. I refuse to believe it.”

“Oh, it gets better.” I pulled the blanket back down just enough to see his tortured expression.

“You made me feel your heartbeat and said, and I quote, ‘Boom, boom, boom! That’s love, baby.’”

He blinked at me in pure horror. “I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I’m leaving the country.”

I snorted. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. That’s my job.”

Pedro flopped onto his back, rubbing his face like he could erase last night from existence. “Did I at least—please tell me—I didn’t embarrass myself in front of anyone else?”

I hummed, pretending to think. “Well… no, but—”

His sigh of relief was cut short when I added, “You did demand that I move onto the couch permanently because, and I quote again, ‘We live here now.’”

Pedro groaned so hard he rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a thud.

I cackled. “Dramatic much?”

“I can never face you again,” he said from the floor.

“Oh, hush,” I said, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “I think it was sweet.”

He sat up, pouting at me like a big grumpy golden retriever. “I was a fool.”

“No, you were just drunk in love—literally.”

Pedro narrowed his eyes, then slowly shook his head. “I can’t believe I wasted my best poetic material in a blackout.”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh, but failed miserably. “Well… you did compare me to food several times.”

He groaned. “Stop.”

“You said I was toast with butter, a warm cinnamon roll, and at one point—” I swallowed another laugh, “—you called me your little empanada.”

Pedro fell back onto the floor face-first.

“Oh my God.” His voice was muffled. “Kill me.”

“Not happening, empanada boy.”

He rolled onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. “You’re enjoying this.”

I grinned. “A little.”

Pedro let out the most dramatic sigh yet. Then, very slowly, he propped himself up on his elbows. “Did I at least say anything sexy?”

I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Mmm… well, at one point, you wrapped yourself around me like a human koala and whispered, ‘If you leave me, I’ll shrivel up like a raisin and perish.’”

Pedro collapsed again. “Nope. That’s it. I’m deleting myself.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, babe, come on—”

“Nope! Don’t ‘babe’ me! I need a do-over!” He sat up, rubbing his temples. “Okay. Okay. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll say sexy things. Like, right now. Hold on.”

I smirked, folding my arms. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

He took a deep breath, straightened his back like he was preparing for a movie monologue, then met my eyes with his most sultry expression.

“You,” he said, voice deep and slow, “are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Not bad.”

“I crave you like oxygen,” he continued, sitting up taller. “Like my first sip of coffee in the morning. Like the warmth of a sunbeam on my face.”

I hummed, pretending to be impressed. “Alright, I’ll admit, this is much better than ‘empanada.’”

“And,” he said, shifting closer, his voice dropping into a whisper, “I will never—never—stop telling you how much I love you.”

That one got me.

I felt my face heat up as he gave me a smug little smirk.

“Oh, so now you’re good at this?” I muttered.

Pedro chuckled, reaching out to pull me onto his lap. “I just needed to be sober for it.”

I rolled my eyes but kissed him anyway, because, well, he was my idiot.

Hungover or not, I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

---

[nerdlvr]

bday sex w jaehyun

(MDNI)

idol jaehyun x reader , established relationship , jae is the best bf ever , inspo from his song unconditional cause that songs insane. , grinding , tit play , vaginal juice mentions , jaehyun is a romantic , pussy eating , face riding kinda , no form of penetration , kissing pussy juice covered jaehyun , for my beautiful birthday anon !

“happy birthday to my pretty baby.”

he brushed a stray hair away from your face, a wide smile on his face.

“you didn’t have to do all this jae, really.”

you sat cross legged on your shared bed, rose petals adorning the sheets and the floor. the room was dimly lit, only a few candles casting shadows on the walls. you were surrounded by floating balloons and bags of presents, prada printed neatly in the front of each bag.

he raised an eyebrow in confusion, his lips turning down in a frown,

“all of what? this is nothing, trust me.”

“jae-”

he cut you off with a kiss, his hands pulling you into his lap,

“stop that. this is nothing compared to what you deserve. let me spoil you baby. just this once?”

you sigh against his chest, hands coming up to cup his face,

“jae, you say this everytime. and then do the exact same thing for every holiday.”

he lets out a nervous laugh, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt,

“but why wouldn’t i spoil you for thanksgiving? im supposed to give thanks to what im grateful for.”

you smiled as you leaned in for a soft kiss, your lips melting against his. his hands reached under your shirt, cold fingers tickling your skin.

“promise me no more gifts?”

he pouted slightly, a small grin peeking through,

“you know i don’t make promises i can’t keep.”

“but jaehy- oh”

he gripped your hips tightly, rocking you against his growing length,

“hm? tell me why i can’t spoil my girl.”

you let out a soft moan, forehead falling against jaehyun’s shoulder. his breath was soft against your ear,

“tell me you don’t want me to spoil you and i’ll stop.”

your hands gripped his arms, hips grinding against his bulge,

“please-”

he planted a light kiss against your ear, hands stopping you in place,

“please what angel? hm? what do you want?”

you blushed against his shoulder, voice soft and weak,

“want yo- need you jae, please.”

he chuckled softly, hands cupping your face to turn your gaze towards his,

“that wasn’t so hard right?”

he planted a kiss to your cheek, and then another to the corner of your mouth, and finally a light peck on your lips. you chased after his lips, a small whine resonating in your chest.

“seems like it didn’t take much convincing, huh baby?”

he chuckled as he pecked your cheeks, softly jutting his hips up against your core. you steadied yourself on his shoulders, hips moving against his, soft moans being shared between you two.

his hands came up to pull your shirt off, cold air making your nipples perk up,

“fuck baby, feels like it’s my birthday.”

you giggled as he stuffed his face in between your breasts inhaling loudly,

“you’re so damn sweet, can’t get enough of you.”

he kissed your exposed skin, light bite marks forming on your breasts. his tongue was smooth around your nipple, swirling the bud in his mouth before sucking gently. you gripped his hair softly, arching into his touch,

he detached from your breast with a soft pop, lips shiny and plump,

“lay back baby, let me see you.”

you laid back, rose petals grazing your skin. he reached for your shorts, helping you wiggle them off.

you laid there, only your panties covering your body. jaehyun kneeled in between your legs looking down at you. your hair was a mess against the silk sheets, roses surrounding your figure. your chest rose and fell with each breath, soft hands coming to lay on your tummy.

“you’re so beautiful baby, oh my god. i’m the luckiest man in the universe.”

you brought your hands up to hide your face, feeling shy at his words. you felt a kiss against your hands, your fingers opening to peek at the man above you. he laughed softly, hands coming down to move yours.

“need to see you while i eat this pussy baby.”

you moaned out as his fingers ran along you core, panties creating friction against your clit. he slipped his hand under the fabric, swirling his fingers in your juices,

“so wet princess, this all for me hm?”

you nodded quickly hands coming down to grip at his wrist,

“yes jae, all for you.”

your voice was breathless, stomach tense as jaehyun slid his fingers along your clit, rubbing slow circles around the sensitive bud. you gasped as you felt his lips on your breasts again, wet kisses heating your skin.

he trailed his lips downward placing kisses around your tummy before landing on your core. you were propped on your elbows watching his every move. he had removed his hands from your panties, your juices soaking the fabric.

you bit your lip as you watched him plant a kiss against your heat, a small smirk on his lips as you lifted your hips to chase his mouth,

“so desperate baby, want my mouth that bad?”

he chuckled at your soft mhm need it, deciding not to tease you any longer. he moved you panties to the slide, watching as your juices dripped past your folds.

he shut his eyes as he licked a stripe up your cunt, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth,

“so fucking sweet jesus, could eat this pussy everyday, fuck.”

he didn’t waste time diving back in, lips wrapping around you clit and sucking roughly. your fingers gripped his hair tightly holding him in place as you rode his face gently. he chuckled into your core, sticking his tongue out so you could use him.

“fuck jae, oh my- so good fuck.”

he flicked his tongue with the rhythm of your hips, hands coming to hold your thighs for support.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen jaehyun this hot. his long blonde hair between your fingers, cheeks flushed, fingers digging into your thighs, his eyes desperate for something.

you moaned loudly a light sparking in jaehyun’s eyes,

“wanna cum jae, wanna cum on your tongue, please.”

he nodded against your cunt his mhm mhm vibrating against your core only pushing you closer. you shut your eyes focusing on the feeling of his tongue, small jolts of pleasure being sent through your body.

you let out a little groan as he replaced his tongue with his fingers, quickly rubbing them against your clit as he came close to your face,

“want you to come on my fingers baby, come on angel you can do it hm?”

you nodded into his kiss, tasting yourself on him.

“oh my- jae, jaehyun i’m oh!”

your head ached at the force you squeezed your eyes shut, hips lifting off the bed, toes curled as you grabbed onto jaehyun’s wrist. his movements slowed as you began to whine, hips inching away from his finger.

“that’s right baby, did so good for me, so good.”

he brushed your sweaty hair back planting a kiss on your forehead, a small chuckle leaving his lips,

“ready for your second present?”

maybe you’ll let him spoil you… just this once

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 10: yakisoba– appetizer!

contents: gojo satoru x reader, really bad flirting attempts, swearing, fluff, 2 idiots in love, really cute shenanigans summary: when you and gojo get detention after sneaking out, gojo sees you in a new light after spending the day with you. current wc: 5.1k ish

“..y’think im cute?” he asks with a shit eating grin, hand stilling on top of your head. eyes widening ever so slightly as you budge his hand off of your head. 

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

as the late winter sun sets, you find a strange comfort walking side by side down the street to the bookstore. 

“–and given the circumstances, i think that sugu should just let me ride that damn dragon once, even after uh.. that incident –” 

you laugh, “you mean when you threw up on it?” “look in my defense, okay –  i didn’t expect it to go that fast!” “and suguru said that you had like 6 pieces of cake or something, right?” 

“right, thank you, exactly my point! I was vulnerable! baby was being so mean – ” 

ignoring him completely, you grab his jacket sleeve to still him, something in the shop window catching your eye. You dont catch the way gojo’s eyes widen. 

“let’s go in here!” you say grasping his hand to pull him along with you, not waiting for an answer. gojo’s eyes widen at the contact, your smaller hand grabbing his. your hands were cold, were you warm enough? he could keep you warm if that’s what you wanted, he’d give you the clothes off his back if it meant that you were safe and happy, but holding your hand would be preferable. but as quickly as it happened, you let go of his hand in favor of picking up something that interested you on a table, what looked like little chopstick rests, cups and little ceramic sculptures.

“look! it’s shoko!” you hum, examining the little brown cat, gojo leans into you his large frame brushing your arm as his eyes pull away from the hand painted prints on the table beside you. 

gojo grins, “hehe! it’s just missing the cigarette...” he comments as he bends down to examine the homemade ceramic animals. 

“oh my god, they have suguru too!” you grab the sleek black haired ceramic cat with purple eyes, “doesn’t he look kinda spooky?” stroking the cat’s sleek head with your pointer finger, you were practically buzzing with excitement. he likes seeing you like this, shy smiles and mischievous eyes, teasing words dangling from your pretty lips. His stomach doing backflips as he watched your growing smile, as you picked up little trinkets examining them with a careful eye. 

the sound of your gentle laugher, brings his attention to you picking up a little fluffy ceramic white cat with big blue eyes and bringing it close to his face to compare. Eyes darting between the sculpture and him, gojo feels his breathing pattern change under your scrutinizing eye.  “damn... you look good in cat form too! yours is the cutest.” you say casually.

cute? did you think he was cute? he thinks his grin will split his face open. “heh. grumps,” he mutters, bending dramatically to knock his shoulder into your much shorter one. you grunt as you feel him pat your head when you ignore his shoulder bumps. you turn to him, eyes narrowing at his dramatics. “..what???” “..y’think im cute?” he asks with a shit eating grin, hand stilling on top of your head. eyes widening ever so slightly as you budge his hand off of your head. 

“hm? oh, –” you say hastily but not quick enough, “definitely not. i was talking about the cat goj- catoru, dude.” 

gojo’s eyebrows raise at the slight wobble of your voice, as you immediately turn around to look through the rest of the shop, busying yourself with the homemade cards on a rolling rack. 

“really, babe? catoru?! and you can’t call me satoru? always gojo this, gojo that..” ” he groans playfully, clutching his chest dramatically, like you somehow wounded the strongest – and you have.  but all wounds heal as he catches you shaking your head, the blush on your face telling him all he needed to know. 

an: hiya everyone! it's been a long time, but i've been writing again! I am excited to catch up on all the comments and share with you the rest of chapter 10 soon!

[laurentpark]

don’t tell my boyfriend! — [16] glow

synopsis. where jimin stalks her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend after a certain incident happened and couldn’t help but grow hatred over her. coincidentally, her and jimin happen to be global ambassadors of the same famous luxury brand and have to work together for a commercial. at first, jimin despised the girl with all her flesh and bones but soon understands why her boyfriend fell for the young actress in the first place… because she was starting to fall for the young actress as well.

warning: slightly suggestive.

the cameras have finally stopped rolling for the last time, and the energy on set is electric with relief. the crew is scattered across the studio, laughing, packing up equipment, and exchanging congratulations on a job well done. the commercial that had taken weeks to shoot is officially complete.

but feels none of the relief that seems to flood the room. instead, there’s an odd tightness in her chest, a strange mix of restlessness and dread that she can’t quite shake.

because this is it. the last day. the last time she’ll share the same space with y/n like this.

the thought twists in her gut.

she slips away from the crowd, heels clicking softly against the polished concrete floor as she steps into one of the quieter corners of the studio. the lounge area is empty now, the warm, ambient lighting casting long shadows on the plush couches and glass coffee table.

jimin sinks onto one of the couches, kicking off her heels and rubbing her aching feet. the silence here feels almost deafening compared to the noise outside, but it’s exactly what she needs.

or so she thinks.

“hiding out?”

her head snaps up, and there she is—y/n, standing in the doorway, framed by the glow of the studio lights behind her. she’s still in her givenchy outfit, the crisp fabric hugging her frame in all the right ways. her hair is slightly tousled, her makeup worn just enough to soften the sharp edges of her beauty.

jimin swallows hard and forces herself to look away, pretending to fuss with the strap of her heel. “not hiding. just… taking a break.”

y/n steps inside, the sound of her footsteps light against the carpeted floor. “thought i’d find you here. you’ve been avoiding the crowd all day.”

“just not in the mood for the whole ‘congratulations, we made it’ thing,” jimin replies, her voice light but clipped.

y/n hums, setting a takeaway cup of iced americano on the table in front of jimin. “here. figured you could use it.”

jimin raises an eyebrow, picking up the cup. “are you trying to butter me up for something?”

y/n smirks, settling onto the couch across from her. “what would i even have to butter you up for? you killed it today.”

jimin takes a sip, letting the bitterness of the coffee ground her. “guess i’ll find out soon enough.”

silence stretches between them for a moment, broken only by the distant hum of voices and equipment being packed up. jimin keeps her gaze fixed on her drink, but she can feel y/n’s eyes on her, watching her with that quiet intensity that always sets her on edge.

finally, y/n speaks, her tone softer now. “so… this is it, huh?”

jimin glances up, frowning. “what do you mean?”

“last day,” y/n says simply, leaning back against the couch. “no more shoots, no more meetings. we won’t be working together anymore after today.”

jimin’s stomach sinks. she knew this already, of course. but hearing y/n say it out loud makes it feel too real.

“you’re really just going to leave like that?” jimin says, her voice sharper than she intended.

y/n tilts her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “what do you mean, like that? we’ve wrapped the project. there’s no reason for me to stick around.”

jimin sits up straighter, her brow furrowing. “no reason?”

y/n raises an eyebrow. “what’s this about, jimin?”

jimin opens her mouth, ready to deflect with some quip or excuse, but the words catch in her throat. instead, she finds herself blurting out something else entirely.

“i know about you and jaewook.”

y/n freezes. her expression doesn’t betray much, but jimin catches the brief flicker of surprise in her eyes.

“oh,” y/n says quietly.

“yeah,” jimin replies, crossing her arms. “oh.”

y/n exhales, leaning forward slightly. “so you know. okay. and?”

jimin narrows her eyes. “and? you didn’t think it was worth mentioning that you used to date my boyfriend?”

“no,” y/n says simply, her tone calm but firm. “because it didn’t feel relevant. i’m not the one still involved with him. you are.”

the bluntness of her words stings, but jimin doesn’t back down. “so you thought it was fine to just… hang out with me? knowing how complicated this is?”

y/n shrugs, holding jimin’s gaze. “you’re the one who agreed to lunch, jimin. and if i’m being honest… i just wanted to get to know you.”

jimin blinks, caught off guard. “why?”

a faint smile plays on y/n’s lips. “because you’re interesting. and maybe because… you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

jimin feels her heart stutter, heat rising in her chest. she hates how easily y/n can disarm her like this, how her calm confidence always seems to tilt the balance of power between them.

“you’re unbelievable,” jimin mutters, though her voice lacks conviction.

y/n leans back, crossing her legs. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

jimin lets out a shaky laugh, shaking her head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are,” y/n replies, her tone light but pointed.

the tension between them is almost suffocating now, the air heavy with everything unsaid. jimin glances at the door, making sure it’s still closed before standing up and taking a steps closer to y/n.

“you’re really just going to leave without saying you’ll miss me?” jimin asks, her voice low and teasing.

y/n stares at her, startled. “what?”

jimin doesn’t give her a chance to respond. she leans in, her lips brushing against y/n’s in a kiss that’s soft but deliberate, lingering just long enough to leave no room for misinterpretation.

the kiss was soft but firm. jimin’s lips moved gently against y/n’s as though she was savoring the moment. the actress could feel the heat of jimin’s body pressed against her own, the way her fingers dug into the curve of her hip as if trying to hold her as close as possible.

suddenly, jimin’s hand was on her jaw. tilting her head up slightly to deepen the kiss. the feeling of her tongue slipping inside of her mouth was intoxicating, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine and eliciting a soft gasp from her.

when jimin pulls back, her voice is barely above a whisper. “don’t tell jaewook.”

y/n’s eyes widen, her expression a mix of shock and something else jimin can’t quite name.

“don’t tell my boyfriend.” the idol repeats, her voice now becoming pleading. her hand was still on y/n’s hip, her thumb absentmindedly tracing small, circular motions on the skin exposed there. there was a certain wicked gleam in her eyes, a mischievous glimmer that sent shivers down y/n's spine.

y/n swallows hard, her breath shaky as she takes a small step back. “you’re playing a dangerous game, jimin.”

jimin tilts her head, her smirk unwavering. “maybe. but didn’t you say i killed it today?”

y/n exhales, shaking her head with a mix of disbelief and something else jimin doesn’t dare name. “you’re impossible.”

time seems to blur after that—quiet laughs, stolen touches, and a closeness jimin can’t bring herself to pull away from. by the time they step out of the room, the rest of the crew is still bustling around, oblivious to what just happened behind closed doors.

as they walk side by side toward the exit, one of the crew members glances up and tilts their head. “you’re both glowing more than usual today. did something happen?”

jimin and y/n exchange a glance, their expressions carefully neutral.

“must be the lighting,” jimin says smoothly, her lips twitching into a small, knowing smile.

y/n bites back a laugh, nudging jimin’s shoulder as they continue walking, their secret safely tucked away—for now.

prev. next. masterlist

tags. @xen248 @szooo @yunalvrrr @yeetaberry127 @lisaswifey @gtfoiydlyj j @c-yerim @jeindall777 @multiliker @hyejin67 @cwpiqwon @sunshinez4 @yoontoonwhs @wintersgff @womanl0ver @sixflame438 @rinapomu @ahnneyong @syronns @yukianism @winieter @inybits @nctislifue @pandafuriosa60 @peranoo @ajjilhan

[andypantsx3]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 : 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 1.7k of unedited alien prince shouto thoughts based on this post from the other day! sfw, gender neutral reader. several elements of this universe were borrowed from my fave sci-fi novel; see end notes for deets!

he's beautiful—the todoroki prince. tall and strong in his high-collared uniform, strapped with lean muscle and handsomely humanoid. he's the first thing that snares your gaze as your party is guided into the hall of the sun—the reception dome that overlooks the rise of the star yuuei in the morning sky, used by the ruling family to receive visiting dignitaries.

it is morning, in endeavorian planetary time, and the sun has begun to rise. its light is weaker than you remember from back home—almost watery, pooling like quicksilver in the panes of the dome's ceiling.

up at the front of the hall, it catches in the strands of the white half of the prince's hair. from what izuku has told you, it's the half that indicates he's part of the himura bloodline. the himura dynasty has ruled the yuuei system from its capital planet of endeavor iv for tens of thousands of earth-years. it's the second longest line of unbroken rulers in mapped galactic history, an impressive feat.

the other half of the prince's hair is a fiery red, like that of the man who stands next to him—todoroki enji, the general of intergalactic renown, who donated half of prince shouto's genome as well as his clan name. each time a himuran royal from the main line marries, izuku had explained, talking at lightspeed in the podship, they take a branch name, typically sourced from the primary gene-donator. it helps keep inheritance lines clear.

prince shouto looks like he's inherited empress rei and todoroki enji's genes in exactly half—his coloring split down the middle, though his features are perfectly, almost hauntingly symmetrical. he wears a pin of flint at his collar that symbolizes his gender—one of yuuei's thirteen official designations. from what you understand from izuku, it most closely aligns with earth designation "man".

it's embarrassing how much you notice about the prince as you file into the hall, stationing yourself right at the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, so you can still see todoroki shouto.

"you don't think they'll reject the treaty and kill us all, do you?" denki mumurs nervously as he presses in behind you.

"no, i don't think so," izuku's gentle voice drifts back to you. he's a three-star ethnologist, studying for a command ethnology post. subsequently he's the most informed of any of the cadets that have been sent along with the treatise party. you and denki are just mechanics, sent along in case anything goes wrong.

"the alliance would be too much trouble for the yuuei," izuku explains. "they have good relations with the surrounding galaxies and tight control over a lot of resources. but the alliance is really large now, compared to the last time they approached the yuuei. they'll likely want to accept at least a loose federation with the allies."

up on the platform at the front of the hall, prince shouto blinks long and slow, like an earth cat. you realize with a start it's the first time you've seen him blink at all, and the subtle reminder that he is not just an extraordinarily handsome human man but the prince of an alien species makes your skin prickle.

"don't you think it's weird they are all this pretty?" denki asks. "it's weird, right?"

"definitely weird," you laugh, your eyes trailing over prince shouto's blade-straight nose, his pert, perfect mouth. "possibly illegal under intergalatic law."

prince shouto stills all of a sudden, and there is the tiniest tilt of his head. two heterochromatic eyes flick over your way, and you are completely embarrassed by the way your stomach swoops in response. you just manage not to grab onto tenya's uniform to steady yourself.

one of the prince's eyebrow arches almost imperceptibly, and you wonder if he's heard you from this distance—but no, that would be insane.

denki picks up his commentary, emboldened by your playing along. you think the prince's eyes linger just a little too long on the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, but then you're distracted by the reception beginning.

the alliance treaty officer strides forward, flanked by a few of the other officials your crew had ferried here. she performs an elaborate bow, as do the other officials. from izuku's muttering you gather it's some sort of ritualistic greeting, and empress rei at least looks pleased with it, waving a gentle hand to gesture the party forward.

there is some shuffling as various aides set up a table and a series of holo-tablets, along with various inks, a leathery roll of endeavorian traditional parchment, and—

"is that a knife?" you ask, peering at the long obsidian blade placed on the table in front of the officials.

izuku's fluffy head of green curls inclines. "treaties are sealed twice. once in the alliance fashion and then again in the local custom, to make it binding per both systems. blood pacts have been used in yuuei for millennia."

the brush of something over your face has your gaze turning back to the prince—to find him staring straight at you, those unblinking eyes boring into you.

"izuku, weird question. can the yuuei hear across rooms?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

a green eye peers back at you. "only in the event of their pair bonds—the yuuei are documented hearing their matepair across approximately ten earth-kilometers. i think we're safe over here though. why?"

matepair. the world settles strangely under your skin, as the prince's eyes brush across it.

"uh, matepair?" you echo.

tenya gives both you and izuku a quelling look, but it's not enough to deter izuku from ducking down to explain in slightly quieter tones. "the yuuei look human but they pair differently. they form a parapsychic bond with only a single partner, which they maintain and uphold for life. it's not just cultural—it's like a physical compulsion. they cannot take another pair, and they cannot be separated for long periods or they grow sick."

prince shouto is still staring straight at you, and it's not quite comforting enough to know that he cannot possibly hear you.

it's only his role in the ceremony that seems to eventually break the prince's weird focus in your direction. he steps forward to perform his duty as empress rei's chosen heir. you almost flinch as the knife draws across the pale skin of his palm, and he adds several drips of silvery blood to the parchment, symbolizing yuuei's intent to uphold the treaty across future monarchs.

the flesh of his palm knits itself back together in seconds, and another little shiver goes up your spine. those mismatched eyes flash back your way as he steps back, and the various aides and officials once again converge on the documents.

there is a brief flurry of activity, various bows and oaths, some stilted endeavorian verse. the chief treaty officer looks relieved when it's all over, and the royal family steps down from the dais to greet the rest of the visiting party, as is the customary honor granted to allies to the yuuei. tenya ushers you into the queue near the back with denki, a symbol of your lower status as mechanics.

you don't mind, as the thought of reaching prince shouto has your stomach doing what feel like backflips in your gut. the longer the delay the better.

izuku had walked everyone through the appropriate greetings on the podship, a few murmured words and a hand touch at chest-level—extremely hard to mess up, even for you. but nevertheless your pulse kicks up the closer you draw to the royal family.

there's a long line of them you greet first. offshoot branch members, then general todoroki enji, whose enormous palm burns hot against yours and who looks he'd rather take your party's hands off than touch them. then rei's unchosen heirs—the princess fuyumi, prince natsuo—and a gap where prince touya would have stood, were he not offworld.

and then you're standing in front of prince shouto, your pulse pounding in your ears. he's extremely tall up close, clearing six feet easily, broad across the shoulders and handsome in a way that almost makes your teeth ache. the yuuei look deceptively human, but this near you can see the tiny details that separate them from you—the slight double-point to their ears, the silvery undertone to their skin, the prolonged space between their breaths and their blinks.

and of course their inhuman beauty. they don't quite look like regular people, and it sparks a tiny note of wariness in the primeval part of your human hindbrain.

prince shouto's mismatched eyes pin you, silver and blue, as a sudden, silvery flush creeps across his face. you hold your hand out in greeting, trying not to wonder if you've somehow managed to offend him already—but instead of pressing his palm against yours, his long fingers suddenly grasp yours, clasping tightly.

beyond him, empress rei freezes too. all at once you can feel every single himuran noble turn to look at you, hundreds of eyes pinning on you.

reflexively, words tumble out of you. "shit did i—what did i do? were you supposed to get a different hand thingy?"

you can hear the treaty officer's horrified inhale at the terms shit and hand thingy, deployed in crass galactic standard in front of a literal prince. you immediately wish you could take them back, but from the look on the prince's face, he's already heard them.

something at the corner of his mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile.

"y/n," he says, in a deep tone. it's crisply accented and just as beautiful as the rest of him.

it takes you a second to realize prince shouto has used your name, which he could not possibly know considering the uniform you'd been issued for the yuuei visit has no unique identifiers on it. you glance down at yourself, then back up at him, befuddled.

"how did you—? where did you—?" you garble out. "did denki put you up to this? how do you know me?"

prince shouto's fingers smooth over yours, delightfully warm, calloused and sure. "i would know you in any universe," he says, voice soft. behind you, you hear princess fuyumi make a tiny sound of delight.

you blink. "universe? what—uh, what universe? how would you—?"

but shouto leans in, tugging you closer with those deceptively strong fingers. he's so very warm up close, and so beautiful it makes your brain short circuit, especially as he lowers his face to yours. a shiver rolls down your spine as his other hand takes you gently by the chin.

and then he murmurs a single word before pressing his mouth to yours—

"matepair."

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: credits where they are due!! the idea of a space general dna donator, an overarching space alliance pursuing a treaty, & the flint pin denoting gender were taken from my fave sci-fi novel winter's orbit by everina maxwell! (if you love heartfelt gay love stories in space i am actually begging you to read it).

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔

synopsis: A late night drive with your boyfriend, Matt.

warnings: FLUFF , established relationship.

ʚ with love and big tits, Rose ɞ

Soft music and melodic air flowed through the cracks of the car windows. Matt had woken you up for a late-night drive, knowing you couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t an unusual thing. He loved being spontaneous, taking his girl out and looking at the stars from the cliffside of the mountain. The playlist he had made just for you had gotten longer and longer. Songs you loved played constantly, ones he grew to adore because they made him think of you.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, brushing some of your hair out of your face while admiring the stars reflecting in your eyes. Smiling softly at him, you clasp onto his hand, kissing on his knuckles. 

Matt sighs contently, interlocking his fingers with yours while resting your hands on the center console. “Better. Thank you, I…I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you mumble, sliding the soft words through a gentle smile. 

His eyes are pooling into yours with so much emotion, love and adoration that didn’t have words to compare to his gleaming stare. Squeezing your hand, he runs his thumb along the back of your hand. “Of course, I—I’d do anything for you, you know that, right?” he pushes, a gentle tug of his eyebrows forming as he analyzes your face. 

“I do. Trust me,” you lean over the center console, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His face scrunches with a grin. The light blush covering his face makes you laugh as you relax back into your seat. “I really do, Matt.” you repeat. 

Matt can’t help but let his eyes stay trained on your face. You notice out of the corner of your eye, the hairs on your neck and spine stiffening as you feel the warmth from his stare. “Matt…” you whine out, looking over at him with a flushed pink hue covering your face that slithers up your neck, bringing a fluttering peace inside your stomach. 

“Aren’t you gonna look at the stars?” you say under your breath. The second your eyes shift over and meet his, you feel yourself melting into the seat. Your bones even seem to relax. It’s all so warm, so heavenly. 

Giving a soft grin, he only leans in closer, his face inches from yours as your cheeks redden further. “The stars have nothin’ on my girl. I mean, c’mon,” he compliments, curling his hand to cup your jaw, his eyes dancing into yours as you feel him sink past every barrier with ease. “--look at you,” he husks. 

He’s drifting into your aura. Although it’s dark, you can feel colors dancing around you, the glimmer of the stars dull compared to his sparkling eyes. Embarrassment makes your shoulders tense. “Matt, that was so—”

“That’s how I feel, baby. That’s…I love nights like this—” he starts combing his hands through your hair as he keeps his eyes threading into yours. Love. Pure love. It feels so light. It’s like you're sinking into a mattress, finally comfortable in every inch of your own skin. You’re far from your house, but this? 

This feels like home. 

“--I love nights like this—nights with you. I just,” he huffs, tilting his head to the side with admiration gleaming from every breath of air leaving his lips. 

“I love you—my star.” 

[blainesebastian]

moments

word count: 10,720 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: There are moments you know you shouldn’t compare your ex to Nick, there’s no place where the two converge. Or maybe, you suppose, that’s exactly the point. notes: idk man this movie has become my whole personality, i got nothing else to say. (other than the gifs are from this awesome gifpack!) notes 2: reader has an abusive ex. while there are no explicit scenes of abuse, there are discussions of past abuse and trauma edit: i now have a masterlist!

You met Nick at a party like this. 

You had just broken up with your boyfriend and instead of wallowing, your friends dragged you to the nearest party they could find. You’re not easily someone who believes in fate or the universe having a plan, but you think that something happened that night to bring Nick into your life. 

You can still feel the thrum of the music in your veins, bumping into him as he was carrying drinks to someone, right on the makeshift dance floor in someone’s house. You remember opening your mouth to apologize–

“You should really come with a warning label if you’re going to swing your arms like that.” He says, British accent thick, eyes sharp. 

He’s beautiful, you think. He’s also an asshole. 

Your hands fall to your hips, eyebrows drawing together as you take a look at him. Really take a look. You moved here because your parents had work, ironically with Nick’s father. You’ve heard of the infamous Nick but haven’t met him in person. 

Lucky you, that seems to be tonight. 

Your eyes draw in the line of his jaw, the way his eyes flit over to yours, assessing you as you take in him. Your gaze runs from the light blonde, highlighted curls in his hair, to the strong shoulders, to the tapered waist. 

And then you spit out, “So should you, if you’re going to open your mouth.” 

He’s taken back, you can tell, a flicker of amusement in his eyes now at having the banter to play with. The corners of his mouth twitch in an almost smile, “Then I guess we better steer clear of one another,” He replies, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.  You can smell laundry detergent, expensive cologne, “Two warning labels usually infer a pending explosion.” 

Keeping your distance didn’t exactly work, though. Your friends are in the same circles, and two curving lines have no choice but to eventually converge. It seems like everywhere you turn around, Nick is there. Other parties, weekends at lush spots, fighting rings, underground driving events, the list goes on and on. 

You seem stuck in this man’s orbit, this layer of so-called ‘danger’ slipping warmly into your veins and heating you up from the inside out. With every interaction, there’s still the barbed exchanges, the rolling of eyes, the quirk of lips. But you’re not sure how much of that is show—you both know how to have a good time with your set of friends, sometimes even with eachother. You’re not sure you’d call Nick a friend but…you suppose it’s better than what you were when you first met. 

As you move through the crowd of people gathered in the large, mansion-esque living room of the latest party you’re at, you do your best to find Jenna. She’s not the friend you came with, but you wanted to catch up, maybe even dance? You’re not exactly in the mood to be here tonight, so maybe that’ll open you up a bit more to having a good time. 

Turning down a hallway, you pause as you almost run into someone. A guy taller than you, eyes glassy, giving you a onceover before a grin, “Lost?” 

You sigh audibly, shaking your head, “Nope,” Voice full-American, which seems to bring a twinkle of amusement to the guy’s face, “Just headed that way.” You point towards the kitchen. 

“I can show you around,” He offers, trying to sling an arm around your shoulders, “Sounds like you might need a tour guide.” 

And boy, are you getting tired of that boring line. You get it, you’re not from London, but just because you’re American does not mean you need someone to show you around. You’ve been here for half of a year, you’re not about to call yourself a native, but you’re definitely settling in. 

“No,” You push his arm away. 

“Stop being so ungrateful,” He scoffs, taking two heavy steps forward. The movement is awkward, like his body is catching up with his brain. You’re not anticipating it, so you find yourself stumbling back, knocking into a table as he grabs your arm. 

“Get off me,” You snap, trying to yank yourself free, but this guy won’t let up. 

He’s wearing a ring on his one finger and it’s twisted in the wrong direction so that the stone actually slides against your arm when you try to create some space. It’s a quick cut, nothing you’d write home about but t’s the fact that he won’t back up, he won’t let go–

“Hey!” 

Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice, Nick, coming down the set of stairs near where you’re standing. He rounds the corner, reaching in one fluid movement to yank the guy off. Tall guy stumbles back, tripping over the carpet, Nick’s body suddenly standing in front of yours. 

“Are you deaf?” Nick snaps, cocking his head as if he’s really trying to understand. His body lines up at an angle, as if he’s ready for a fight and that’s the last thing you want. Your hand gently moves to the back of his shirt, a soft tug, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. 

He glances over his shoulder at you before turning his attention back to Tall guy, movements relaxing—he bends to your request. No fighting. 

Until Tall guy opens his mouth.

“Didn’t know she was going to be such a bitch about—” 

There’s barely a moment in which the sentence is finished before Nick’s fist is flying through the air. It lands on this guy’s nose and he crumbles like a house of cards. A small gasp leaves your lips, your eyes wide as blood spurts from between the guy’s fingers and Nick rolls his shoulders, turning to check you over. 

“Look at me,” He says, hand touching your arm. Your eyes snap to his and he scowls at the cut there, red and angry thanks to that guy’s ring. “C’mon, let's clean you up.” 

Nick’s hand slips down to gently clasp your own, tugging you towards the kitchen. It’s not very busy, or maybe people are clearing out at the look on Nick’s face, either way you’re glad it’s not as stifling as some of the other rooms. He scoots you backwards until your legs find a stool and you prop yourself up on it, Nick moving to grab a washcloth from one of the drawers. You watch him carefully, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. 

“You didn’t need to hit him.” 

He pauses and then turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised. A scoff tumbles forth, “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.” 

Now it’s your turn to look surprised, “For what? Punching someone?” 

His eyebrows draw together, amusement flickering in his eyes like a heated fire, “You have the strangest way of showing people your gratitude.” He moves towards you like a force. He’s not that much taller than you, but Nick’s the kind of person to take up space. The kind of person you step aside for. Handsome and unpredictable, just like the first day you met him. 

Blame it on the action from tonight, the leftover adrenaline shaking your body, prior experience with hands on you in ways that have not been kind, something—but when Nick reaches out and takes your arm—you flinch. 

He notices instantly, letting go and taking one step back to give you space. His eyes dance over you for a moment and you know he’s taking in the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself, your shoulders drawn in, the slight shaking to your hands. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, voice a shade gentler than it was before. 

You swallow over an unspoken emotion in your throat before straightening your shoulders, eyes narrowing as you take a look at him. “I’m just saying I could have handled it.” 

He doesn’t argue with you this time, must sense you need to own that somehow, and just nods, “Can I see your arm?” 

You’re holding your arm to your chest like an injured bird does its wing, even though you’ve had worse. You’ve been through worse. Scars that you can’t see but are still there. You run your tongue over your teeth before relaxing your spine, slowly extending your arm towards him. 

Nick takes that as permission to walk back towards you and at the angle of the stool, you’re almost eye level, his body slightly between your knees as he turns your arm over in his hands. He takes the washcloth that he’s dampened and drags it across your skin. 

You close your eyes, biting down on the inside of your cheek, hating to admit what you’re about to say as your pulse slows,  “I didn’t…actually…have that handled.” You hate to think of what could have happened if Tall guy hadn’t backed off, if you couldn’t have stopped him, if no one would have thought twice to check if you were okay.

Nick doesn’t say anything though, just continues to clean the cut, his eyes trained on your skin. His thumb brushes the inside of your arm, a silent comfort, encouraging you to speak again, 

“My ex was a real jerk, put his hands on me.” You do not elaborate, but it seems like you don’t need to. Nick’s movements still a moment, his jaw working. “Not something you get used to or over quickly.” 

“Your ex is lucky he’s still in America.” He mumbles after a few breaths, his thumb still tracing back and forth over the inside of your elbow, his eyes finally meeting yours. You’re not sure why you’re surprised at what you see there. A gentleness, an anger, a protective warmth that you…maybe knew Nick was capable of but hadn’t seen firsthand. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, your hand settling on his, “Not your problem.” 

“Shouldn't be yours either.” He says, squeezing your fingers. 

There’s this moment where you can’t tear your eyes from his, that heat that’s associated with Nick winding itself around you like ivy, digging between your ribs. It’s like something magnetic, you can’t quite look away, and yet you remind yourself of what was shared between the two of you when you first met. Two warning signs, indeed, could mean some sort of explosion. 

And yet, this person right here? The one standing in front of you? You think that might be worth the risk. Someone that’s maybe just as kind and thoughtful as they are opinionated, and impulsive. Velvet over broken glass. This version is not the Nick you thought you knew…and you’re not sure what to do with that. 

“Uhm,” You clear your throat, breaking the moment, “Have you seen Jenna? I was gonna see if she wanted to dance but now I kinda want to head home. Just want to say bye.” 

He shakes his head, helping you off the stool by slipping his hand into your own. “No, but I can drive you.” 

You soothe your hand over your jeans, “You don’t have to go out of your way.” 

Nick smiles a little, the expression open, “Don’t worry about it—this party is quickly losing its appeal anyways.” 

You don’t fight him on it twice. 

—

In spite of so called ‘warning labels’—there are sometimes shared looks, quiet smiles, and a warmth that blooms as you get to know one another. Maybe that’s friction. Maybe it’s something else. 

“Swear no one hears me when I say I don’t like onions,” You crinkle your nose in the booth of a diner, pressed to the one corner, Nick across from you as Jenna and Lion share the other seats. The table is completely covered with food to share, Jenna laughing as Lion tries to steal her fries. 

There are raw onions on the burger you ordered, despite asking for it without. Before you can lift the bun to take them off, Nick reaches across the table and swaps your plates. He says nothing, doesn’t even lift his eyes to look at you—but his burger is now in front of you. Onion free. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you can’t help the small thrill of butterflies in your chest as you add ketchup to your fries. 

—

Your parents don’t know about your ex. 

You just…never wanted to tell them what happened. Especially since it didn’t matter, you were moving to London, leaving him behind and all the problems that came with it. Maybe if they knew your mom would talk to you about what healthy relationships look like, maybe they would suggest therapy. Maybe you’d even go. Sometimes it’s hard to admit that the person who went through what happened was actually you. As if you’re a spector in your own life. 

Every so often, you deny you have emotional scars. The physical ones have long faded to healed skin. Except, scars run deep, and sometimes you’re not even aware they’re still there until they flutter to the surface. They rear their ugly heads in the most unexpected of times. 

Or maybe it shouldn’t be surprising at all. 

A glass shatters. 

Your entire body goes rigid even though Jenna is laughing and leaning into Lion over it. The sounds start to warp around you and you’re staring at the glass at the floor, as if the shards will leap into the air and perform some sort of circus act. You’re over Nick’s house with your friends, having drinks and hanging out by the pool, you’re all getting a refill and someone overreaches for a glass in a cabinet. 

“Butter fingers,” Lion teases his girlfriend, grabbing her hand to spin her close and kiss her shoulder. 

“Was an ugly glass anyways,” Giles replies, crinkling his nose. 

Your hand lingers on your chest a moment, your heart hammering under the pressure of your fingers. You try to tell yourself that it’s an accident, that you’re not in danger, that you’re not what happened to you. You talk through all that helpful language you googled that’s supposed to help center yourself when you feel like you’re on the edge of a panic attack. You remind yourself that you’ve been doing well, you’ve been coping, that past memories belong in a box in the back of your mind and that a sound isn’t strong enough to unleash them. 

But nothing helps. 

Your vision narrows and then goes glassy, fuzzy black fades in from the edges, it feels like there’s a hand around your throat, squeezing. You excuse yourself quietly for the bathroom and your friends don’t notice, which is fine, you’re not sure you’d be able to stop even if they did. 

You make a b-line for the bathroom, turning a corner too fast and bumping into—

“Whoa,” Nick’s hands come down on your shoulders. When he gets a good look at your face, his eyes widen slightly. “Hey—” His voice is soft, dipping his chin to try and catch your gaze, “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I—” You choke out, air constricted in your throat, “I can’t—”

Nick seems to understand, gently backing you up towards the bathroom. The door doesn’t shut completely, angling towards closed, which you’re grateful for—the room doesn’t feel any smaller than it already does. Tears gather in your eyes, frustration and concern building up in your chest like a bonfire. You don’t claw at your skin, but you’ve been there, where it feels like the only way that you can possibly feel better is to peel it off your neck. Like there’s a literal barrier between you and breathing. 

You don’t even realize you’ve sat down on the closed toilet seat until Nick’s kneeling in front of you. His voice sounds like it’s underwater and he takes your hand to rest it on his chest. You can feel the beat of his heart under your fingertips, the steady intake of air as he speaks again.

He keeps repeating the same phrase as tears spill down your cheeks, “Copy me.” 

“Wh-what?” You stutter out, his words suddenly coming in sharp, clear. 

His other hand, the one not holding your hand on his chest, cups your cheek, brushing tears away with his thumb. He curls your hair around your ear, fingers resting against your neck. 

“Breathe with me,” Nick’s voice is patient, squeezing your fingers, his thumb working back and forth along your knuckles, giving you something to concentrate on. “In—” He draws breath into his lungs, then, “Out—” He whispers, letting it go. 

You copy, barely, chest aching. It comes out as a gasp. 

“Good,” He nods, “Again.” He waits. “Again.” He soothes, “Again.” 

Until it becomes easier, until it doesn’t feel like your entire chest is caving in. The hyperventilating slows, your eyes slide shut, your pulse calms in your throat. You don’t open your eyes until the dull roar disappears in your ears, Nick’s thumb still moving calming circles against your knuckles, your neck. 

Your gaze eventually meets his brown ones, concerned as they trace your face. His hand moves again, the one on your neck, cupping your cheek and removing another tear track. 

“There you are,” He says softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I got you.” 

You swallow over what feels like glass in your throat, your fingers still holding onto his t-shirt against his chest like a lifeline. You don’t often get panic attacks like that, but when they come? They drive through you with the force of a freight train. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

You blink, trying to figure out if you do, in fact, need something. A glass of water might be nice, but you don’t want him to move, the weight of him against your legs grounding in a way you can’t explain. 

You decide on shaking your head, your hand eventually falling from his chest to rest in your lap. His hand follows yours, brushing his thumb along your knee. 

“They always come on fast like that?” 

You shake your head, “Sometimes I think they’re completely gone, they just—pop up out of nowhere.” You sniffle, curling your hair around your ear. You have no idea why your cheeks flush in embarrassment, but they do, to let someone see where you’re struggling the most. Where you feel the most vulnerable. 

But when your eyes meet Nick’s, there’s no judgement there. Just a soft gaze, open, waiting. 

“A glass fell in the kitchen, broke and—my ex used to throw things when he got pissed off. The sound, it just—” You’re not sure you have to explain, hoping it’s enough.

Nick’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a dangerous sort of calm that you wouldn’t wish on anyone. He traces his thumb around your knee. 

“Sounds like a real tool.” 

The comment is so out of pocket that a laugh bubbles up in your chest and you nod, “He was. Sometimes I feel like relationships are just always meant to end messy, one way or another.” Or maybe you’ve convinced yourself, somehow, that you don’t deserve something good. You put yourself out there with your ex, and look at what happened. 

Nick shakes his head, holding your gaze when he says, “Not all of them.” 

There’s a small thrill that works its way into your chest, something weighted in the way he says it. You chew on your lower lip, Nick’s eyes slipping to your mouth, and you’re suddenly reminded of time you’ve spent together. While you have the same friends, you’re not sure if you’d consider that to define your relationship. And yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, making sure you’re alright. 

“Thought it was best we steer clear of one another,” You repeat his suggestion from the first time you met but your voice is teasing. “Pending explosions and all.” 

Nick stands and your head tips back to look at him. He seems to give it careful thought, his pursing lips making a soft laugh leave your lips. “Think I can handle a little danger—can’t you?” 

You find yourself nodding and take his hand when it’s offered, tugging you up off the toilet to head back out to your friends. 

—

Nick spends the night checking in with you—it’s not so much words he uses, but its eyes dancing over your form, it’s a tentative hand on your lower back, it’s making you laugh—long and hard, it’s picking you up over his shoulder and jumping into the pool with you, it’s your lips brushing when you float to the surface when he’s grinning. 

It’s like he’s suddenly everywhere, not just here at his place, but over the next few weeks that you end up spending time with one another. A hand brush here and there, a shared grin, hushed laughter and an ease and comfortability that was not there before. 

A so-called ‘warning label’ begins to fizzle down to its base form—what it actually is.

Attraction. And that’s not something that feels so hazardous anymore. 

—

You love dancing. You’re not altogether good at it, but that doesn’t matter. After enough to drink, the alcohol buzzing like warm bees in your system, with your friends around you, the lure of letting off steam and feeling comfortable in your veins just overwhelms you. 

The club that you end up at is a typical haunt on a Saturday night, your smile bright as you wrap your arms around your best friend from behind. Jenna laughs nearby, turning to smack a kiss to Lion’s cheek. Nick brings back a tray of shots for everyone and you take yours eagerly, tipping it back. 

When you set the glass down, Nick has his eyes on you, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. He's dressed in a black t-shirt, and you can’t help but sneak a peek at his biceps, how well he fills out the fabric. His long sleeve shirt is gone somewhere, maybe where everyone was once sitting before. He looks comfortable, like you could curl up against him, like his arms could lift you up—

“Enjoying the view?” He asks over the music, leaning closer. 

You shiver, refusing to show how much a simple question has an impact on you. Because yes, you were. 

You shrug, “It’s not bad. I’m still deciding.” 

He steps closer, into your space, his hand sliding down your arm and when he speaks this time; his lips brush your ear. “Anything I can do to influence that decision?” 

This time you can’t hide your body’s reaction, you know that Nick feels it, his fingers brushing over goosebumps that appear on your forearm. You hate the smug look on his face as he pulls away, so you decide the only distraction that’ll work at this point is tugging him onto the dance floor. You turn your arm in his hand, sliding up until your palms meet. 

“You can dance with me.” 

Nick smiles, following you onto the floor,  your friends following. It’s a small circle of moving bodies, and despite the nerves that are skittering along your nerves like spiders, you let yourself slip into the music. It’s some sort of bouncy electronic bop that you know well and you find yourself singing along to the chorus as you dance along to it. You can’t help but laugh as Nick grabs your hand and spins you, angling his body closer to yours. There’s a swaying motion, his hands ending up on your hips. 

He squeezes; a question in his eyes, if it’s alright to put his hands on you like this. Because it’s slightly more intimate than small, insignificant touches you’ve shared before. You’re overwhelmed by the gesture, that despite how close you’ve gotten, he still wants to make sure it’s okay. That permission means everything to you. 

You respond with a grin, your arms wrapping around his neck, keeping him close. And you’re inseparable for the rest of the night. 

—

Nick has a driver pick you all up so no one has to worry about driving. There’s a few minutes outside the club, waiting on the pavement. When you wrap your arms around yourself, a slight breeze causing a chill down your spine, he slides off the long-sleeve shirt he came in and drapes it over your shoulders. The warmth of his body lingers and you draw the fabric over your hands, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

When an SUV arrives, you end up sharing a row with him. The sway of driving rocks you gently, your eyes slipping closed as your head rests back against the seat, and when you wake up at your place, you’re tucked under Nick’s arm along his side. 

—

Nick hands you a book in passing, something that he had tucked away in his car as you’re about to get into Jenna’s to leave the underground driving circle. It’s so unexpected and somehow odd in a place like this that you kinda blink. Your fingers brush as the book transfers from one palm to another. 

“Thought you might like this,” He says. 

It’s well-read, obviously by him. And it’s something so simple, saying ‘I thought of you’, ‘I think about you’, ‘you’d like this’—something your ex never did. 

He never thought about you. Not like that. Not gently. Not with concern and affection. Not in a way that mattered, that made you feel good. 

You look down at the title, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips—The Things They Carried. Somehow it’s fitting. 

“You think about me?” You ask, voice teasing, holding the book to your chest. 

Nick grins, “Hard not to.” 

And before he can back away, you wrap your fingers in his shirt and pull him close, tipping your head up to kiss him. 

It’s everything you ever thought it might be. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before he cups both sides of your face, angling the movement down, tongue teasing the seam of your lips. His body presses against yours but it fits perfectly, lines up with your own, as if something was missing beforehand that you were unaware of. 

“Thank you,” You whisper after a moment, against his mouth. “For the book.” 

Nick licks his lips, his thumb brushing over your lower one. “Definitely have more recommendations if this is the general reaction.” 

And well, you’ve always been a reader. 

—

“Oh come on,” You chew on your lower lip, “Pancakes all the way.” 

Nick scoffs something far too attractive, crinkling his nose as he heats up the waffle iron. “Knew there had to be something wrong with you, after all this time, just didn’t know it was gonna be this.” 

You toss a blueberry at him and he, annoyingly, catches it, popping it into his mouth with a grin. He points a spatula at you. 

“How have you lived a life thinking pancakes are superior to waffles? This an American thing?” 

“This is an ‘I’m right’ thing.” You toss back, looking at all the different combinations of sweets that can go on or in these pancakes (or waffles). “The ridges in waffles make it difficult to spread butter evenly.” 

Nick licks his lips, his finger tracing the handle of the spatula as he turns pancakes over in the pan. He adds batter to the waffle iron. “Not if you try hard enough.” 

You shake your head, amusement skittering along your spine as you can’t help but look down at his hands. He’s wearing two rings today, something comfortable and simple. But the only thing it does is highlight the shape of them, gorgeous, like they were made to play an instrument. 

“I think you’re just trying to infer that you’re good with your hands.” 

“What was that about my hands?” He raises his eyebrows, voice impossibly warm like dripping honey. 

He sets two finished pancakes on a plate and flips the flame off under the pan. He leans against the counter as he looks at you, something molten slipping from your stomach to between your legs as you hold his gaze. 

“You heard what I said.” 

Nick wanders over, encroaching on your space in the best way. He tilts his head down a little, brushing his lips over yours as he lifts you onto the counter in one even swoop. 

You can’t help but grin, your hands settling on his shoulders as he slips between your legs. 

“Sounds like you’re going to need a hands-on demonstration.” 

“I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.” But your laugh comes out as a whimper as Nick’s fingers press against the center of you, an easy target given how you’ve splayed your legs to accommodate his body, the fabric of your leggings leaving nothing to imagination. 

“Oh,” Nick whispers against your lips, amusement dancing across his handsome features as he begins to move his thumb, “Maybe you don’t need a demonstration at all.” 

And this asshole actually dares to move his hand, as if he’s giving up the suggestion. You clamp your knees together as best you can, his body in the way, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as his hand becomes trapped between your thighs. 

“Don’t you dare.” You mumble against his mouth.

“Is that a threat?” He nips at your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth at the same time his hand encourages your thighs to open to give him room. He pushes into the waistband of your leggings, a smirk decorating his mouth as you scooch closer to the edge of the counter. A shiver skitters down your spine at the feel of the cold metal of his rings brushing against heated skin. 

You hate giving him the satisfaction of any noises leaving your mouth but at a certain point, it becomes undeniable. And he knows that. You swear that having him like this is something you’re never going to get used to, despite that things are still new between you two. His thumb drags over your clit, one finger slipping into you, your back bowing a little when he adds another. 

“That’s it,” He leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he picks up the pace. It doesn’t take much, he’s so precise with his fingers, leaning into every tell your body has, reading you like an open book every time you make a sound. 

When his tongue travels over your pulse point and his thumb pays close attention to your clit, tight even circles, you don’t stand a chance. Pleasure snaps like a band, your body clamping down on his fingers. You lean up to drape yourself over him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, tucking your face in his neck. 

The arm that’s free slides along your back, brushing up and under your shirt, running his fingers along your spine and you press a kiss to his shoulder, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug on his curls, just a little, just to arch his head back a bit. 

He smiles up at you, eyes dark, lower lip wet from biting it, a visible strain in his sweatpants. You open your mouth to reply, to offer reciprocation, but then smoke in your periphery catches your attention. 

“Shit,” He mumbles, pulling away from you to turn the waffle iron off. You wince a little but a small laugh bubbles up in your chest, leftover butterflies in your stomach, cheeks warm, body feeling far too empty. 

“Can’t believe the waffles burned.” You comment lightly, running a hand through your hair. 

Nick glances at you, a small smile on his face, mischief lighting up his brown eyes. He tugs you forward, but this time, he’s got the fabric of your leggings between his fingers, yanking them off. 

“S’alright,” He replies, spreading your legs again, intending to sink his head between them, “Think I’m more of a pancakes guy anyways.” 

—

Nick is nothing like your ex, there is no place where the two converge. Period. 

—

You hate that Nick fights in the ring. Sometimes there’s gloves, other times there’s bare fists. You hate the blood and the bruises and the fact that fucking Lion bets on him like he’s a winning horse. Most of the time you can’t even watch. Like tonight. You wait in the car, everyone headed back to Nick’s afterwards to debrief, to let off steam. 

You can tell he’s pissed the moment he gets into the driver’s seat. 

There’s lines pulling his face, his shoulders tight and the muscle in his jaw feathering. There’s a bruise starting along his jawline, cuts on his cheek. You squeeze your eyes shut and your fingers dig into the plush leather. 

You don’t ask how it went because you already know. 

When you make it into his kitchen, leaning against the counter, you watch as he paces a moment, stewing, his hands shaking as he looks over at Lion. 

“It wasn’t called at the right fucking time.” 

“It was,” Lion says evenly, “The refs—”

“The fucking refs are fucked,” He snaps, his voice echoing in the space. You swear you can hear the glass in the cabinets tremble, “He threw a punch after the bell rung. What’s the point of doing any of this if it’s not going to be fair?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all,” You mumble, arms crossed over your chest. It’s quiet, but you can tell the moment that he hears you. His entire body goes still before he turns and rolls his shoulders, like he’s still in the ring. Like he’s itching for a fight. 

“That’s cheap coming from you, isn’t it? You won’t even step through the doors to support me.” 

Your mouth falls open at the same time Jenna hisses Nick, your response only serving to amp him up even further. 

“I’m not going to go in there and you know it.” You know why, is what you actually want to say, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. You’re calling him out on his bullshit well enough. 

Besides, you’re not the one he’s really mad at, he’s just taking his frustrations out on you. But before you can tell him how fucked up that is, Lion pipes up with a —

“You’re gonna have to fight him again, a re-match.” 

Nick explodes, the kind that he warned you about the first night you met, his arm snapping out and striking items on the kitchen counter. It’s not glass, but the reaction you have is the same. A plastic fruit bowl spins and hits the cabinets, oranges rolling out of it, a set of papers flutter to the floor like birds, and something cracks loudly against a chair, someone’s iPhone maybe. 

It doesn’t matter what it is because you go rigid, eyes wide as you stare at the items on the floor. He runs both of his hands through his hair, his gaze finding your face when you let out a short breath out of your mouth, attempting to unhook your shoulders from your ears. Nick looks at the floor and then back to you, muttering shit under his breath. 

He takes a step towards you, “Y/N,” and you mimic one back, keeping space between you. A defense mechanism but it doesn’t stop that look from sliding onto his face, regret replacing anger, concern replacing frustration. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick says, voice pinched, “I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

You shake your head, putting your hand up so he stops talking. You need space, you need to go outside and take a breath. You slip out of the kitchen towards the pool and Nick must try to follow you because you hear Jenna stop him in his tracks— just leave her alone for a little while, man.  

He’ll come find you though. He always does.

—

You debate leaving but end up sitting by the pool instead. Your legs are drawn up against your chest, fingers dragging through the water, chin resting on one of your knees. You hear and feel him more than see him come out onto the pool deck. 

“Can I join you?” He asks, hovering. 

You know that if you told him no he’d respect that, he’d listen.. But you can’t, even though a small part of you wishes you could. You nod softly, not looking at him, waiting for him to slide down beside you. He’s facing you, one leg in the pool, one curled up underneath him. He smells like clean soap, fresh clothes—he must have showered and changed to give you some time. You ache to run your fingers through his damp curls, to touch him somehow. But you don’t. 

It’s quiet for a while, just the sound of your shared breathing and your fingers gliding through the water. 

Nick clears his throat, “I have a temper, I’ve always had it.” Since his mom, are the unspoken words. “Despite how hard I try to bury it…it seems to always find its way to the surface.” His voice is soft, gentle, as if he’s afraid he might spook you, that you might run. “It’s why I’m good at racing or fighting.”  

You know this, you know he has an anger inside of him that sprouts like weeds, recognizes it in him like you did your ex…even though they are not the same, will never be the same. Nick has talked to you about his mom countless times, you’ve met her and Maddie and know that they’re working on their relationship. They’re in a good place, despite the emotions that Nick still feels sometimes. Maybe they’ll always be there. 

He tentatively reaches for your hand, and when you allow him to touch you, he tugs your laced fingers to rest in his lap. He traces circles around your knuckles, “Look at me.” 

You breathe out through your nose, turning your gaze away from the pool and meeting his eyes. You’re struck by him, always have been, you think. Ever since you ran into him at that party. There must be a soft pout to your lips because he brushes his other thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. But I know I don’t want to see that look on your face ever again.” He shakes his head, ripping his gaze from yours, as if he’s embarrassed. You know what he’s talking about. Fear. What must have been on your face—it’s not something that can be helped, no matter how much you’ve been working on it.

“Not because of me.” 

You swallow over a lump in your throat over that, over the fact that Nick, at the core of his being, wants to protect you. Despite his rough demeanor, despite the fact that he sometimes leads too much with his fists or can have a nasty set of words for someone, he’s good deep down. Something your ex never was. 

You squeeze his hand back, reaching out to touch his cheek. You angle his face up, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

You don’t say that it’s okay, because it’s not, but you do want him to know, “I trust you.” You say after a moment. It is not something you give easily, something that’s definitely earned. And Nick has. He holds your gaze after that, a soft nod, turning his chin into your palm. His nose and lips brush the love line on your hand and he presses a kiss there. 

“C’mere.” He whispers, encouraging you closer, to sit on his lap. You fold into him easily, as if you’ve always fit there. 

–

There’s a long sigh out of your mouth as you move from your spot on the couch to get the front door when there’s a series of knocks. You kinda hope it’ll go away, but your parents aren’t home to check. There’s a twinge in your nose and a headache building behind your eyes, the worst head cold you’ve had for a while. Exhausted, slightly nauseous, throat sore, and kinda ready to throw hands at whoever is making you answer the front door when you could be passed out on a bunch of pillows and blankets. 

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing your throat, “Sheesh.” 

Without looking at the small video monitor for security set up next to the door, you yank it open, getting ready to give whoever is selling something a piece of your mind. But then you stop, blinking, because it’s—

“What are you doing here?” Your voice croaks, Nick wincing at the sound. 

He’s in a pair of sweats, a white t-shirt, and oversized jacket, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his curls as he takes a look at you. Your cheeks are flushed thanks to being sick, but you feel like your fever has kicked up a notch under the careful inspection. You have no idea what you look like, but you can guess it’s a mess. 

“Jenna said you weren’t feeling well,” He steps forward and when he does you notice he’s got a paper bag in his hand. “Though I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me that yourself.” 

You rub the back of your neck—you really just…didn’t want to be a burden. “I didn’t want you to get sick.” Is what you say instead, which isn’t exactly a lie. 

“Well,” Nick hums, brushing his fingers through your hair, “Lucky for you, I have an impeccable immune system.” 

You crinkle your nose, fit to argue with him, but the moment you open your mouth, you turn and sneeze. A small smirk sounds from Nick when you groan. “Bless you.” 

You straighten your shoulders, rubbing some of your fingers against your temple as you turn to look at Nick. You want to tell him that it’s not necessary, that he doesn’t need to do anything extra for you, regardless that he’s here already. But at the same time, you also know he’s stubborn—he’s not going anywhere. And what’s the harm of allowing someone to take care of you? 

Your ex never would have showed up like this. The moment you’d let him know you were sick, he’d make a joke to keep a distance. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously, you never even thought to let your current boyfriend know you were struggling. 

“You better have a miracle cure in that bag,” You tease, the lightness in your voice covered by congestion. “I’d settle for tissues.” 

Nick reaches into the bag and pulls out a whole box. A whole box of tissues that have lotion in them. He gives you a small, knowing smile. 

“Did I mention you’re my favorite person?” You ask, snagging the box. You open it up, taking some tissues out. 

Nick breezes past you with a kiss to your temple, “I know—but reminders are always appreciated.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. 

Not only does this man make you soup, and make sure you have cold-relief meds, but in that paper bag of wonders he has one of those heatable stuffed animals, the ones that you can put in the microwave and smell like lavender (if you could breathe through your nose). You settle into the couch, the half-eaten soup on the coffee table as a movie plays in the background. You’ve kind of lost the plot, your eyes falling closed as you’re surrounded by some pillows and blankets, the warmed-up stuffed fox pressed to your abdomen. Nick’s seated in the corner of the couch, arm stretched out along the back—you’ve been trying to keep your distance but…god, he really looks comfortable.

He smiles a little in soft amusement, as if he can read your mind, his eyes sliding over to yours. His lips quirk, tilting his head a bit in his direction, 

“C’mon.” 

You shake your head, “I really don’t—” 

“Get over here,” He interrupts, leaning over to wrap his arm around your waist and tug until you're pressed against his side. You don’t fight it, a shiver wracking down your spine as you settle against him. “Cold?” 

You nod, fitting against his side, underneath his arm, tucking your face into his shoulder. You wish you could breathe him in, that comforting scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something that’s just purely him. He helps you adjust the blanket, his hand settling on your thigh with a gentle squeeze. His other hand threads his fingers through your hair in a way that’s meant to put you to sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.” You mumble, eyes fluttering closed. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry about me.” 

But you do. And he does. 

But it’s nice being able to take care of him too. 

—

Sometimes you sleep over. It’s one of those things that happen naturally—hanging out with friends, messing around in the pool, playing darts near the garage, coming back from a party, curled up watching a movie. Tonight is no different, except you’re a little drunk. You sit down on the edge of the bed, the room spinning slightly, Nick passing you a t-shirt of his to tug on. You love how it lays on you, the fabric unbelievably soft. 

He lingers in front of you, a smirk on his lips, tipping your chin up and leaning down just enough to brush a kiss over your temple, “You need help?” 

You let out a long, dramatic sigh that flutters your lips. It turns into a slight pout, “I need a kiss.”

Nick hums, his eyes appraising you, “Yeah? Where at?” 

And you hate how that makes you squirm. You squeeze your legs together, an action not missed by him, before pointing to your cheek. He licks his lips, crouching to press one right where you’ve requested. His fingers curl under your shirt, lifting it off in one fluid motion. He crouches before you, hands on your knees, waiting. 

You smile a little, skin warm, pointing to your shoulder blade. He follows through and you can’t stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair, his hands moving to splay along your waist, squeezing. That heat between your legs dips, tugs, hums. 

“Where else?” 

“I’ve definitely got some ideas but could you tell the room to stop spinning for a second?” 

Nick smiles, fingers moving to the button on your jeans. “Can I take these off?” 

Always with the permission. Always with making sure you’re okay. It’s something that’s so deeply important to you, something you’ve never told him. And yet he knows. 

“Need you to help me out,” He undoes the button and you stand on wobbly legs, hand holding onto his shoulder for support. He slides them off and tosses towards a chair in the corner. You sit back down, running your hands over your face, which probably smears your makeup ridiculously. 

You touch to the right of your belly button, “Here please.” 

Nick smiles, shaking his head a little. “Only because you were so polite.” 

You bite down on your tongue when he does it, when he kisses you there, swallowing the cheeky response that you know he’d do it anyways. 

He slips lower, kissing the side of your knee without you asking. Just because he wants to. He then leans back on his heels, giving you a onceover before taking the shirt he handed you, helping to slide it over your arms. Pressing a few kisses to your cheeks, mostly just to make you laugh, he pulls away. 

There’s definitely an audible whine you’ll deny making later. 

“I’m getting a washcloth for your face,” He laughs softly too, taking your hand to squeeze, “Get your makeup off.” 

You shake your head—wow, how’d you get so lucky? 

“Think it’s the other way around.” He assures you as he heads to his bathroom and you blink—apparently you said that outloud. 

As you wash the makeup off your face, Nick changes out of his clothes, a simple t-shirt and briefs. He tugs down the comforter and helps you under the covers, tugging them back up to your chin. It’s one of those moments that feels so intimate that your chest hurts a little. You lie on your side, not facing him, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“You okay?” He whispers, arm sliding around your waist. Your fingers lace together in an easy motion. 

“Perfect.” You reply, already dozing. By the time he turns the light out, you’re fast asleep. 

—

It’s one of those parties in which you can’t keep your hands off eachother. 

Nick’s obviously a tactile person, he talks but he says more with his actions, with his touch. A possessive hand on your waist, a protective arm around your back, a brush of a kiss to your temple, a cheeky nip of your lower lip. You can read him like a secret language, a message whispered in the dark. And you love that you can so easily reply in kind. A hand sneaking up and under his jacket to rest on his toned back, slipping your fingers into his back pocket to grab his ass, hooking your ankle around his under a table, a kiss to his cheek when you’re excited, his hair when he falls asleep on your chest. 

Tonight is no different. 

You separate for one instance so you can head to the bathroom and when you come out, you bump into someone who is waiting. 

“Shit sorry,” You apologize with a smile before raising your eyebrows. The guy you practically checked shoulders with is holding a book. A book at a party. And like, no judgement, obviously, but…it’s really the last thing you expected. 

“No worries,” He’s tall and kinda lanky, but soft looking, attractive in his own way. He smiles down at you, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he catches you looking at his book. “Summer classes,” He admits, “Organic chem.” 

“Gross,” You offer with a soft laugh and he grins. 

“Yeah, not exactly party material. I’m trying to relax but uh, not the best at it.” 

“Well I’d put down the chemistry book, for starters.” You smile and you can tell he’s about to open his mouth and ask for something, maybe to offer to get you a drink, maybe something else. You’ll never know because you see Nick just past where this guy is standing. 

His gaze is set on you, never looking away once, but you can tell he must have noticed this guy towering over you because an arm slides around your waist, hand squeezing your hip. A clear message to anyone who might be confused. 

“Was wondering where you went.” And you raise your eyebrows at that, as if he doesn’t know you went to the bathroom. 

“Well you found me.” When Nick turns to look at you, there’s a heat to his eyes that almost takes your breath away. You can’t help but gaze back, like the darkness that you find is capable of pulling you under, under. 

Tall guy lets out an awkward laugh, snapping his textbook closed. “Well just gonna—” He motions to the bathroom but Nick takes a step towards it with you in tow, pressing you towards the doorframe and then steps in front, effectively blocking your body with his own. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna need to find another bathroom,” He tells him, leaning his palms against the doorframe. A soft laugh bubbles up in your chest as you lean against the sink, running a hand along the side of your face. 

Textbook guy blinks, makes an uh noise with his lips—and when he just stands there looking confused, Nick snaps out, “Fuck off.” 

And slams the door in his face. 

Your hand covers your mouth as Nick turns, taking measured steps towards you as you lean back against the sink. Feels sturdy enough—it’s one of those built-in counter ones, plenty of space for toiletries. 

“Textbook guy was nice, you know?” You inform him, a smirk mapping your lips as Nick leans in, encroaching on your space. He encourages you to lean back a little as he cages your body with his own, arms on either side of you. 

He whispers into your ear, “I don’t care.” 

When he pulls back a bit, your noses brush and you lift your hand to play with a curl on his forehead. Amusement sits on your tongue, heat between your legs, “Didn’t know you could get jealous.” 

Nick’s gaze lands on your lips. You expect him to deny it, but instead he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, dragging it out, nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. Then he kisses you completely, slotting his own body along your own, tongue sliding into your mouth. The moment you moan is when he sinks his hands into your hair, keeping you close. Your own glide down his sides, digging into the fabric of his jeans, tugging—

A sharp noise, a groan from the back of his throat, sets little electric zips along your skin. 

You can feel the hardness of him against your hip and breathing patterns change, just a little uneven, pulling back so that your lips fall to his neck. Your hand wanders, one destination, undoing his jeans so that you can slip inside. 

“So,” You whisper, tilting your head back, getting a good look at him. Your fingers wrap around him, beginning to palm his cock. His pupils are blown as he licks his lips—you can feel the twitch of his hips, driving him a bit forward. Your thumb works at the bead of moisture at his tip, back and forth, down along him. 

You smile, “Yes to being jealous?”

His hand slips around the back of your neck, squeezing a little, gathering a bit of your hair in the process. It’s barely a tug, barely any pain, and yet heat shocks down your spine, settling in your core. 

“Of anyone who makes you laugh like that.” 

And for some reason that reaches into the center of your chest and squeezes. You can’t find the words to reply. So you don’t. 

Luckily both of you are both attune at speaking without saying anything at all. 

Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his lips before kissing him again. 

It doesn’t take long after that. Nick helps gets his jeans down, peeling your skirt up, practically ripping your underwear to get them out of his fucking way. He presses you back against the sink, it’s not the most comfortable—the edge is biting into your muscles, but at this point it just adds to the pleasure that’s already building in your lower belly. He lifts your leg a little, holding you, sliding forward until his cock brushes against your entrance. 

“Nick,” You moan and that one word has him pushing inside. 

Your head tips forward, forehead ending up on his shoulder, rolling your hips until he’s completely inside of you. It’s not as drawn out as you want, but you know it’s only a matter of time until someone comes knocking on this bathroom. You hike your leg up a little more, encouraging him deeper as he moves, as much as you can at this angle. It’s too fast, a little too hard, and the movements are a little too desperate. 

But fuck if that stops you from cumming hard. 

The moment Nick’s mouth finds your neck and sucks while his one hand not holding you slips between, fingers circling your clit, you lose it. 

Your body clenches around him and you bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him as ripples of pleasure slam into you. Your fingers dig into his back and there’s two more thrusts forward until Nick loses himself as well, a soft tremble following as both of you breathe one another in, wait for pulses to slow, for breathing to settle. 

He pulls back slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, curling your hair around your ear. A soft smile tugs the corner of your mouth and you slowly turn a bit to face yourself in the mirror. 

Jesus. You’re really not fooling anyone—you look utterly wrecked. Your hair is mussed, face flushed, and you attempt to fix a bit of yourself as Nick cleans himself up and grabs a washcloth on the shower cabinet near the mirror. He dampens it in the sink before crouching, cleaning up your inner thighs. You let out a slow breath as he drags the fabric along your cunt, gentle and yet tortuous. 

Nick licks his lips, looking at you in the mirror, settling his chin on your shoulder. You find his gaze in the reflection, his one hand coming up and resting on the side of your neck. His thumb brushes a blooming hickey near your pulse point. His eyes never leave yours, 

“In case there’s any further confusion for anyone.” 

When you run into the textbook guy again later that night, Nick’s arm draped lazily over your shoulders as he talks to Lion, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind this time around when you ask him with a teasing lilt how organic chem is going. 

He zeros in on your neck right away, and Nick fucking smirks. 

—

Maybe the warning labels, the explosion, the danger you both once spoke of isn't exactly what you assumed. It's not that you'd end up being bad for one another, or somehow get in the other's way. It's not the underground fighting ring or the racing or past trauma with your ex. It's something deeper, emotionally grounded, something that's capable of taking you out right at your knees. You knew love had teeth, you just didn't realize you could be devoured by it. 

The way you care about Nick bites into you and doesn't let go. 

You're quiet as you clean up the tiny cuts on Nick's knuckles, using a bit too much antiseptic but not relishing in the way he winces. You can't meet his gaze, even though you know he's trying to capture yours. Seated side by side on the edge of his bed, you let out a long breath before setting the bloody cotton ball aside and grabbing another. 

Stupid re-match that Lion set up. Nick won, but that's not really the point. 

You waited outside in the car, eventually getting out to pace, leaning back against the driver's door until they all came out. A split lip, a blackening mark underneath his eye on his cheekbone, bruised ribs and cut-up knuckles. 

You hate this. You hate it so fucking much. You're practically buzzing with this anger but know better than to speak. Nick seems to know better too, because he's utterly still beside you. Curling your hair around your ear, you set another used cotton ball aside—you can’t use bandages on these small cuts. They’re not that bad, he doesn’t need any, and yet…leaving them open like this makes your chest ache. You can’t patch them up, but…maybe an ice pack wouldn’t hurt. For his ribs at least. 

When you move to stand, Nick’s fingers gently wrap around your wrist, a silent plea not to move. You close your eyes, can feel yourself trembling—

It’s not so much the blood. It’s seeing him hurt. It fucking guts you. Even though he’s okay, you know he’s okay. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

“I really wish you’d stop doing this,” You eventually say, your words sounding too loud in the silence. Too choked. That anger from before unfortunately fizzles out into the real emotion it was hiding: concern. “All—all it takes is one wrong hit and—” You sniffle, cutting yourself off. 

Nick lets out a long sigh through his nose before a gentle nod follows. He inches himself closer to you on the bed, until your knees bump together, his hand wrapping along the back of your neck. Despite wanting to pull away, wanting to create distance, he encourages you to lean into him. You relent as if it’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. 

He tips his chin down, his face burying itself in your hair, and he keeps you close until you stop shaking. 

–

That’s the last fight Nick’s in, he tells Lion not to involve him in any others. 

–

Admittedly, cars have never really been your thing. You admire them, you appreciate the work that some people put into them, or how much someone is willing to pay to enhance them, but they’ve never been something to spend your own money on. You upkeep the Jeep that your parents bought you on your eighteenth birthday, and that’s always been enough. 

Nick though? He loves his cars. Has a full garage of them. A collector, an enthusiast, and you love that about him. One of the many things. Love that you can learn something new about something he’s clearly passionate about. 

He’s got a love-hate relationship with your Jeep though. 

“She’s ol’reliable.” 

Nick just crinkles his nose. 

“Don’t look down on Donna like that.”

“Please do not call your jeep that.” 

You giggle, “Donna is timeless.” 

“Donna sounds like an old bitty who’s been working too long at the corner diner. She smells like grease and has menus sticking to her hands.” 

Now you laugh something bold and bright and it twitches the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Hater.” 

He pulls you into a kiss, pressing your back against the door of your Jeep. He certainly trusts it enough for that. 

Though, this is what you get for calling your Jeep ‘dependable’ and ‘reliable’, speaking too soon when she conks out on the side of the road. You attempt to restart her a few times but finally groan and give up, slipping out of the driver’s seat. You’ve put a lot of money into her but…Nick’s freaky car-sense about her is right—not ol’reliable in the least. 

Pursing your lips, you press on Nick’s name, listening to the line trill. He picks up on the third ring, “What’s wrong?” 

You purse your lips, “I can’t just call you because I miss you?” 

Nick hums, “Donna died, didn’t she.” It is not a question. 

You scoff out a sound, “You gotta make it sound so final like that?” 

He sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks, fabric rustling in your ear as well. You picture him in bed, maybe reading, getting up to get his shoes. “Where are you?” 

You drop a pin and it doesn’t take him too long to get to your location. You hear the rumble of an engine before you see him, a sleek red car pulling up beside poor Donna. A tow truck is not far behind and you smile sweetly at your boyfriend as the door pops up and Nick steps out. 

“Hate to break it to you but I think it’s time for Donna to visit the car lot in the sky.” 

Your lips form a pout and Nick smirks out a soft laugh, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He presses a brief kiss to your lips, turning to watch as the tow truck parks behind Donna and begins to wheel her into place. 

He stretches his arm over your shoulders, drawing you close to brush another kiss to your temple, “C’mon,” He motions towards his car, “I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of.”

“You’re probably hoping they’ll take her to a scrap lot and squish her with one of those car crushers.” 

“I would never.” 

He places his hands on your shoulders, encouraging you forward until you get inside the passenger door. He closes it behind you, slipping into the driver’s seat. A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you lean back into the seat, the smell of expensive leather and his cologne comforting, despite leaving Donna behind. You rest your head back against the headrest, a small smile on your face as your eyes drink in his profile. 

“Where can we go?” You’re not in the mood to go home. 

Nick turns his head to look at you, a gentle smile, his one hand on the wheel while the other rests on your knee. “Anywhere.” 

You can’t help but smile back—you love the sound of that. 

[chrissturnsfav]

Hiiiiii, your work is like insanely good. I am obsessed with singer!reader and rapper!chris!!Can I request one where they’re just like oh and someone asked for a picture with reader and Chris takes it?? It’s just really cute and fluffy!!!

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris loves to watch singer!reader interact with her fans

the night air hums with energy as you step out of the sleek black escalade, chris closely at your side.

the flash of cameras hits immediately, paparazzi shouting questions you’ve learned to ignore. your bodyguards keep the growing crowd at bay, creating a bubble of calm amid the chaos.

chris keeps a hand at the small of your back as you walk toward the restaurant. his presence is grounding, his confident grin a constant reminder not to take any of this too seriously.

that’s when you hear it—a small, timid voice breaking through the noise.

“excuse me… um, can i get a picture?”

you turn to see a young girl, maybe ten or eleven, clutching a phone in her hands along with a vinyl of your newest album. her eyes are wide with hope, her cheeks flushed with nervous excitement. it’s clear she’s talking to you.

your heart melts instantly. you crouch a little to her level, offering her your warmest smile. “of course, pretty girl. what’s your name?”

the crowd of fans and paparazzi begin gushing at the adorable moment, some fans trying to push through the crowd in hopes to get a picture with you as well.

“ava,” she says shyly, glancing between you and chris as if she can’t believe this is happening.

chris steps in before you can even think about how to set this up. “here, i got it,” he says, holding his hand out for ava’s phone.

ava hesitates, starstruck. “oh my gosh, you’re chris!” she exclaims through an excited grin, her eyes twinkling with awe.

he chuckles, taking the phone with ease. “yeah, that's me kid.”

you laugh softly at him, stepping closer to ava as chris angles the phone. “aight, big smiles,” he says, crouching slightly for the perfect shot.

you wrap an arm around ava, who looks like she might float away from happiness. chris adjusts the phone, tapping to focus, his tongue poking out in focus to get the perfect picture as he watches you interact with the little fan.

“got it,” he announces after a few clicks. he kneels to show ava the pictures, and her face lights up.

“thank you so much!” she says, looking from him to you with pure gratitude.

“of course, ava,” you reply, ruffling her hair gently. “have the best day ever, okay?”

as the girl rushes back to her parents, you turn to find chris staring at you. not at the cameras, not at the crowd—but at you. he looks lost in thought, a smirk on his face, but it's not cocky as usual. he looks in awe of you.

“what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, a snicker slipping past your lips.

he shakes his head, that lopsided grin of his spreading wider. “nah, nothin',” he says softly with a shake of his head. “you’re just so sweet.”

you roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. “chris, stop.”

“m'serious ma,” he says, slipping his arm back around your waist as you both continue toward the restaurant. “i love watchin' ya interact wit' your fans, 'specially the little ones, she was all smiles.”

the flashes of the paparazzi pop again, but they’re nothing compared to the warmth in his voice. you lean into him slightly, an appreciative smile on your lips as he grins down at you, his arm snaking around your waist as you enter the restaurant away from the chaos.

it always baffles chris how you're so patient and sweet with your fans, not that he's not appreciative and kind with his fans, but you...

the way your face lights up when you meet them, the kindness in your soft voice, the gestures you make to them.

it just makes him love you even more.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: the end is a lil cringe in my opinion, but i didn't know how else to end this so i hope it was okay lmao

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

How about an Emily Prentiss x reader smut where she uses a strap on the reader for the first time

Hey, anon! So sorry it's taking me like a million years to get through these requests. But, as always, please keep them coming! – illdowhatiwantthanks

Control

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW (18+ MDNI), smut, literally just unfettered smut, strap-on, mentions of AFAB genitalia, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: It's your first time being strapped, and you're nervous as hell. Thankfully, Emily knows what she's doing. 😉

NOTE: This can be read as older Emily or younger Emily, whatever your preference. I just haven't had a chance to use a GIF of absolutely fucking FINE gray-haired Emily yet, so....

You eyed the strap suspiciously from your perch on the bed as Emily harnessed herself up. You exhaled shakily and thought to yourself, There’s no way that’s gonna fit inside me.

Emily gave you a small smile when she looked in your direction. “You alright?” she asked, her voice confident yet concerned.

You nodded, but your voice shook. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Emily chuckled, crawling toward you on the bed and placing her hand on the side of your face before kissing you. You were breathless by the time she let you go, with a quick peck on the tip of your nose.

“You’re a bad liar,” she said, smirking and sitting back. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

You picked at your fingernails and avoided her eyes.

Emily nudged you with her shoulder. “I think you’ll like it though. But say the word and we’ll do something else. It’s not a big deal, okay?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, staring hard at the strap. “I mean, women enjoy this, right? Hypothetically?”

Emily shrugged. “I think it depends on the woman.”

“Have you done it before? R-received?” you asked, blushing a little.

“Yeah,” Emily told you, taking your hand in hers and running her finger along the lines of your palm. “With men, though. Never with a woman.”

“Why not?” you thought out loud.

Emily bit her lip. “When I started sleeping with women, I just… found a different role, sexually. One I liked better.”

“But did you like it when you did? Before?” You were far enough in now you might as well keep asking.

“I don’t know that my experiences with men are what you want to be comparing this to. At least, I certainly hope not.”

“But you think I’ll like it?” you asked, incredulous.

“Honey,” she said, grasping your chin to look you in the eyes. “We really don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

“No, no! I… I want to, I’m just… nervous,” you admitted.

“Look at me, baby,” she said, maneuvering your body gently down on the bed, running her thumbs gently over your cheekbones. “I might be the one with the strap, but you’re the one in control. Alright? You say the word, I’ll stop. I promise. We’ll go slow, okay? Slow and gentle.”

You nodded and let Emily kiss you again, harder, more frantic than before. You moaned into her as she caressed your body, as she placed open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone.

You buried your hands in her hair, back arched, as she slowly swirled her tongue around your nipples, excruciatingly slow, until they were hardened into swollen peaks. You felt the cool line of her tongue draw a line from your rib cage down to your lower stomach, and you writhed as Emily placed ghostly, light kisses on your inner thighs and around your clit.

You could feel yourself glistening, feel the wetness between your legs. You were ready for more.

“Em, please,” you protested when she sat up. You opened your eyes to find Emily sitting back and applying lube to the strap, pupils absolutely blown, staring at you with equal parts love and hunger.

She wiped her hands off on the towel draped over the nightstand, then leaned forward, brushing your hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, gripping the bed sheets in both anxiety and anticipation.

Emily stared pointedly at you. “You’re sure?” You nodded again and she prompted. “Words, please.”

“Yes, Em,” you whispered breathlessly. “I’m ready for you.”

She blinked and shook her head, as if your words were a little too much for her.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” she said, maneuvering the strap so that it rubbed against your entrance.

You let out a strangled moan, somewhere between a scared yelp and a groan of pleasure, as Emily pressed into you, slowly filling you up.

You almost had a hard time catching your breath, as if all your body’s attention was now solely focused on this overwhelming, foreign thing inside of it. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just new, but your body did not seem to know what to do with it, and you could feel your insides pulsing with both pleasure and pain, trying to adjust to the new sensation.

When Emily had pressed most of the strap inside of you, she leaned down to caress your face, planting kisses on your forehead. “Good girl, honey. You’re doing so good for me. Are you okay?”

You nodded, face beet red from the pain and from holding your breath.

“Breathe for me, baby, alright?” Emily asked, slowly starting to rock her hips, moving the strap in and out. “Look at me, look at my face. Breathe. Like this.”

You followed the pattern of Emily’s breath to catch yours, and when you’d finally regulated your breathing, everything else seemed to fall into place too. You weren’t exactly in pain anymore as much as you were… full. But… in a good way? In a way that felt oddly wonderful? Maybe it was the physical sensation of the strap and maybe it was the knowledge that a part of Emily was inside of you that shot arousal straight from your head to your toes.

You whined a bit and moved your hips to meet Emily’s as a wave of pleasure rolled through you, intensified by whatever mysterious spot inside of you Emily had found and was now hitting relentlessly.

“Fuck, baby,” Emily breathed, and you could tell from her voice, from the flush of her chest, by the way her breath was frantic and caught every few minutes, that she was wildly turned on. And it was at that moment–staring up at Emily, seeing the sweat the beaded her forehead, the scrunch of her eyebrows in deep concentration, her hips against you in that way, particular to Emily, that always let you know she was trying hard and largely failing not to chase her orgasm–that you realized Emily was right.

It was you who had the power here. You who could make Emily fall apart, could drive her crazy. And you felt drunk all at once on power and pleasure–particularly the pleasure of seeing Emily losing her fucking mind on top of you.

With one hand, you pulled at her hips, encouraging her to go deeper, faster, harder. With the other, you cupped the back of her neck and drew her close to you, moaning in her ear.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, breath catching in her throat.

“Come on, Em,” you whispered. “You’re so close. Come on, baby, I want you to come inside me.”

The thrusting of her hips became sloppier and sloppier as she chased her high, her face pressed into your neck so that you could hear her huffs of breath, could smell her sweat as she worked for it.

Her noises became high and desperate and you felt your own orgasm close behind, knew it would come just from watching Emily fall apart, just from feeling her lose herself inside of you.

Emily’s breath hitched in her throat and you knew she was there. You pressed your own hips into hers, grinding into her, shoving the strap deeper as she jerked against you, until your own vision blurred and you wrapped yourself around Emily, riding out your high.

With a final shaky thrust into you, Emily collapsed against you, sweaty and spent. You grinned a her as she caught her breath, rolling to lay on your chest.

“Fuck,” she gasped, trying to get enough air. “You’re sure you haven’t done that before?”

You kissed her forehead and swiped a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead. “I only take strap for you, honey.”

Emily shuddered, then carefully slid out of you. “You,” she said, burying her tongue in your mouth as she removed the harness and threw it to the side of the room. “Are perfect.”

You kissed her back, surprised at how quickly arousal flooded back into your body.

“Hey,” you said, breathless, pulling your sticky bodies apart to look at her.

“What?”

“Next time,” you told her. “I want to ride you.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she nearly fell out of bed feeling for the harness again.

“How soon is next time?” she asked, glancing at you before strapping up.

“How soon can you get that on?” you grinned, sitting back to admire her.

[giuseppe-yuki]

pr videos

logan sargeant x hawk shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: a few curse words, one suggestive innuendo

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you join logan while he is doing his pr videos for williams

picture credits from pinterest :)

from your perch on the VCARB building, you could see your boyfriend on the roof of the williams building, filming a pr video. with your acute vision that allowed you to see over half a mile away, you could see the strands of his blonde hair waving in the wind, the way the sleeves of his williams team kit stretched over his arm muscles, the shine of his blue-green eyes in the sun, and even the light stubble on his chin. oh, and alex was there too, but why would you look at him when your perfect boyfriend was standing right there? 

you technically weren’t supposed to be sitting on a pipe next to a big ass poster of daniel riccardo’s face on the VCARB roof, but you were getting a little hungry. less than an hour ago, logan had left you in the hotel room, explaining that him and alex were filming pr videos all day and didn’t want you to be waiting in the hot sun. it didn’t hurt spying a little bit on them. besides, you were blending in, because in austin, texas there was always a shit ton of hawks for some reason. 

shaking yourself out of your logan-induced trance, you peer over at alex and see him holding a- piece of tomato? in logan’s hands are some tongs and a metal spatula, making you realize he is currently flipping burgers in front of a smoking grill. great, you think, williams has your boyfriend playing the typical american again. before you can continue your line of thought, your stomach grumbles, so you immediately spread your wings and jump off the building. there’s no harm in capitalizing off of logan’s americanness, you suppose.

gliding smoothly towards the williams roof, you hear logan talking fighting for his life trying to defend himself.

“mate, look at my burger compared to yours! its way better. look at the cheese, the lettuce, the tomato, the juicy meat! your patty is literally burnt and you don’t even have lettuce in your burger! that’s a literal crime.”

“you don’t even have lettuce in your burger” alex mocks. “whatever logan, you’re so american!” 

you can tell the banter between them is playful, both of them shooting pointed remarks at each other as the timer countes down. they're filming an alex vs logan burger challenge, you speculate. 

when you see your chance, you fly at full speed towards the pair, and snatch logan’s burger right off of his plate. clutching the burger in your claws, you circle back and plant yourself on an expensive-looking linen sofa. you give the burger a few experimental pecks. perfectly cooked, and honestly, really good. 

the camerawoman, several members of the williams crew, and both alex and logan’s pr managers all stare at you from behind the camera in surprise, mouths open. alex lets out a sound of pure shock, but his eyes show a little bit of recognition. perhaps logan has mentioned you to alex before? logan, however, looks at you with a small smile and a singular eyebrow raised. 

“mate,” alex starts, “is that your g-” 

logan immediately cuts him off. 

“wow, that was so weird! my burger looked so much better than yours, a real-life american hawk swooped in just to try it.” 

as if coming to her senses, the camerawoman steps in to redirect the focus of the video. “we are totally keeping that in. that was so fucking cool.” she exclaims. she turns around to her camera, and fiddles with it for a little bit before turning back towards you, logan and alex. “by the way, note to the video editor, logan totally won that one. the hawk really sealed the deal.”

“baby there is no way you just did that,” logan says, closing the hotel room door. 

you were lying in a cocoon of sheets with on the giant bed, having flew back to your balcony suite a couple hours ago. 

he takes off his shoes before continuing, “after you flew away, i had to spend over half an hour explaining to the williams crew members that no, i did not somehow summon you using my americanness and burger cooking powers, then fifteen minutes conversing with alex about planning a hangout with him and his girlfriend- who by the way is a cockatiel shapeshifter- and then fourty-five minutes leaving the paddock because i was stopped every two seconds by yet another person who wanted to ask if a hawk did actually steal my burger.” 

you can’t help but to start laughing. “awe i’m sorry logan, i was just a little hungry and i wanted to go see you!” you say in between giggles.

logan leaps onto the bed on top of you and wraps you into a warm hug. “fine, i forgive you. only because i love you,” he says earnestly. he pauses before continuing, “and also because you gave me a great truth to tell for two truths and a lie,” prompting you to burst into laughter again. he puts a well-placed kiss on your cheek. “so what do you want to do next?”

you look into his eyes, a few inches away from yours, and whispers into his ear. “i’m feeling… a little hungry.” 

logan peels himself off of you, and walks towards the hotel room phone.

“i know exactly who to call.” 

later, you find yourself sat in front of the most mouthwatering, scrumdiddlyumptious layout of texas barbeque, coleslaw, and cornbread. god, you loved logan so much. 

the next day, you find yourself in a similar position as the day before. this time, you are perched on a tree on the edge of a beautiful lake. you watch in amusement as logan and alex struggle to put bait on the hook of their fishing rods. logan seemed to have a little bit more luck spearing the worm onto the end of his fishing rod. 

“this is so rigged.” you hear alex complain to the gopro set up in front of him. “logan clearly got a bigger worm than me so its easier to put on and plus, he probably has ages of experience from fishing when he was younger!” 

it was yet another pr video day, but this time williams had them out in the middle of a lake- fishing for content. ‘don’t come back until you caught a fish,’ you had heard the team member jokingly say to the williams drivers as they launched off the dock. currently, it seemed as if alex and your boyfriend were taking his words seriously.

thirty minutes later, both of them were still stuffed in bright red lifejackets sitting in the middle of the lake. it seemed the cameramen that were filming them from a separate boat were having more luck them them, as they had a few minnows swimming in a bucket compared to logan and alex’s zero. 

you swoop down from your tree branch and use your ability to see uncannily well to spot a big bass swimming below you. lighting quick, you snatch it up in your claws and fly toward the williams boat. 

this time, the cameramen see you before logan, and all point their cameras excitedly at you, no doubt getting some high quality content for their upcoming video. 

you drop the still-wriggling bass onto logan’s lap, and perch proudly at the tip of the boat. 

“why thank you birdy,” logan says to you, giving you a big smile. he turns to alex, fighting the urge not to laugh. “i guess i win this challenge yet again.” 

alex wears a smug smile back though. “i just had my birdy go catch me a fish too.” he says, pointing his nose in the air. as if right on cue, a gray and yellow cockatiel whips past you, and drops a mosquito fish in alex’s lap.

logan takes one look and bursts into laughter.

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin@ale-522@formula1-motogpfan@aceyalonso@my0hmary @mbappebby

[droaxa]

this game

✧tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 3

✧warnings: kidnapping, bondage, MNDI, reader is touched inappropriately

✧a/n: hey guys this is gonna be the final part of my yandere cheater, i really appreciate all the love i've got so far and i'm excited to show you all what I thought up for the final bit! don't hate me too much for the end haha

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The first sensation that hits you as you wake is a burning feeling in your throat. you shoot up immediately and go into a coughing fit, what happened? The second sensation is the blinding bright lighting, a harsh white compared to the soft yellow in your dorm. Your eyelids feel stuck as you try to open your eyes, almost as if they were glued together.

You force your eyes open and your surroundings alarm you, even in your drowsy state. This room clearly wasn't yours. In fact, it wasn't Raph's either. You knew his room, messy and boyish but not sterile and clean like this. You observe your surroundings, a mostly empty room with minimal items but all necessary furniture.

Then you locate the cause of the ache in your wrists; two tightly tied ropes connecting you to the bed frame. You try to pull away, hoping the knots will come loose but to no avail. Your legs are free unlike your arms, but bare. You're dressed in a large t-shirt, something you knew Raph owned and just your panties. You dreaded being exposed to Raph in such an intimate way, especially considering that he most likely changed you, but the thin layers were better than nothing.

As if hearing your silent plea that he shouldn't come through the door, Raph enters with the click of the lock unlatching. His smug, almost satisfied look makes you uneasy. What did he have planned for you?

"Finally up sweets? I was gettin' bored without ya" he drawls out, stalking closer to the bed with every step.

You inhale sharply and attempt to pull yourself into a sitting position by your wrists, not wanting to be lying down as that man approached you. But almost as if reading your mind, he crawls into the bed. Grabbing your ankle and pulling you down into a resting position with him over you.

"Uh uh" he tuts, "No runnin' away, but I mean-" he cracks a menacing grin. "It's not like there's anywhere to run to huh?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you plead with him, "Raph please, just let me go and I won't tell anyone what you did. If you have any love or at least respect for me, please let me go"

He cocks his head to the side as if thinking about your demand, then all of a sudden-

BAM!

He's on top of you, hands on either side of your head and legs keeping your legs down. "I'm doing this because I love you, can't you see? I know imma asshole for cheating but c'mon. Don't say you didn't miss me"

You scoff and hiss out your words, "Miss you? You're just a cheating lowlife and psycho who couldn't take what he dished out"

"Psycho?" He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks in the process. "Well yer life is in the hands of this psycho darling, so I'd watch what you say" He leans in even closer, his hair now tickling your forehead. "All I did was prove my love for you, getting rid of that bitch, taking care of my brother. They were all getting in between us"

You try to stay calm but tears start to form in your eyes, he was the one who tore you two apart. Not your friends or his brother. "It was you that got between us. Just because you tried to right your wrongs, in the worst way possible, doesn't mean I need to forgive you"

Like he was waiting for you to say that, he grins again "Forgive me? Oh, you'll be forgiving me soon"

He lifts up your body just enough to allow his larger one to fit under you, you were lying on him. Just like when you were together. His face rests on your shoulder as one of his hands grabs a remote off the bed stand next to the bed, arms encircling your waist with the remote in the front.

He then turns on the TV opposite of the bed, the news network flashes on screen.

A woman dressed in formal wear and a bun appeared at a mahogany desk, her face holding a solemn expression. "A horrible tragedy has struck the local university today" A picture of a university, no. Your university flashes on the screen. "A university student had been found in the dorms on campus, horribly injured" A picture of Ray flashes on screen. No.

"Thankfully, an anonymous tip earlier that day proved to save this young man's life as paramedics arrived on the scene just in time" She continues, "Sadly, he has fallen into a coma due to health complications. So please, we ask you to send your love and strength to this young man's family."

Her face looks sterner now, "The main suspect at the moment is a young woman who owned the dorm the student was found in" No, it can't be- "(y/n) is seemingly on the run at the moment, please notify your local police station if you see her in your city" A picture of you pops up. No, no no.

With that Raph clicks the TV off, grinning. "Oh wow, you really did all that (y/n)?"

You don't say anything, face frozen as you stare at the dark TV.

Raph catches onto your shock and coos in your ear, rough hands caressing your waist "Oh darling you're free to stay here, I mean it's not like you have anywhere else to go"

You turn your head toward him to the best of your abilities and blurted out, "What did you do"

His eyebrows raise as his grin widens, "I didn't do anything, not my fault you decided to move to such a low-security dorm. I mean, no cameras or security guards? Besides, who would believe you?"

You spit out your words with venom, "My parents will, my friends will, Ray will. You won't escape this"

"Oh really, the same parents who are countries away? The same friends who fucked your boyfriend? Don't get me started on Ray, but it's not like that vegetable can say anything"

Your hope starts to diminish, he was somewhat right. Your so-called 'friends' would never vouch for you. It would be a miracle if your parents would come in time to help your case; even if they did, the odds were stacked against you.

And Ray, poor Ray. He didn't deserve this, he deserved the life he always dreamed about. The little farmhouse in the countryside, a beautiful wife, and a few kids. Even if it wasn't with you, he deserved it and so much more.

You couldn't ignore the feeling of Raphs body beneath yours, his hands gripping you. Was this the way it would end? Hopelessly alone, doomed to be unhappy? The one you loved was battling death, barely alive and here you were: unable to to anything but cry.

Were you crying? You snap out of your daze to a strange wetness on your cheeks, salty moistness. Did you deserve to cry? What could you have done differently to stop this? Would things be different if you had never initiated something with Ray, if you had stayed with Raph, if you had never come to this university?

But the hot breath hitting your neck told you everything you needed to know, this was your now, your forever. Trapped in the arms of your merciless captor, one who wouldn't spare even his own family.

Forever bound to misery, the only witness of your downward spiral would be the cold walls of this house. Funny, how it only took a few hours to strip you of everything you were. All that was left now was a husk, a memory of what was before.

Perhaps, he really had won.

a/n: so ik you guys wanted to keep ray alive and technically i did, but i may or may not have twisted it a bit haha. i consider this ending the true ending but i'll take suggestions to write shorter stories on the alternate paths the reader could have gone down to change their fate!