#i need your hand but i don't want to burn it

[jeonginsleftcheek]

surprise!

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, roommates to lovers

wc: 2.7k

warnings: humping, dirty talk, oral (f), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: aight listen - i needed some time to process his new look and now i'm wet for him. he has a tongue piercing in this fic bcs ever since i gave one to rockstar!hyunjin i can't stop thinking about it (and tattoos). he is the moment😩💅🏻❤️

~ masterlist

Fucking hell.

Your hot roommate somehow managed to become hotter than he already was even after he gave you a good scare.

You were used to seeing his fluffy hair flying around everywhere, him tying it up while he was painting or cooking, putting it behind his ear constantly as a habit.

But the hair you were so fond of (even though you found strands of it everywhere in your apartment) was completely gone.

Without any prior announcement too.

You were just finishing up with dinner when he came home, strolling in casually and greeting you as he opened the fridge to grab a cold drink.

You greeted back, not even looking up as you were concentrating on cutting up some veggies.

You made small talk as always, you were kinda close and didn't mind sharing your day to each other over a meal.

Something was weird, you noticed out of the corner of your eye and when you lifted your head to look up, you almost cut your finger off.

"What the fuck?!" you practically screamed and Hyunjin laughed before smirking at you.

"Surprise?"

"Damn right it is." you stared at him in disbelief.

It was different. His long hair was comforting to you as sometimes he even let you braid it or play with it when you hung out and seeing him now was a shock.

His facial features stood out more and you couldn't help but admire his jawline, his nose, his eyebrows, heck even his ears were pretty.

It was unfair that he looked so good.

"I think our dinner's burning." he smirked knowingly and you shrieked, quickly turning the stove off and moving the pot aside.

Even as you sat down to eat, your eyes were glued to him.

"I'm guessing you don't hate it since you keep looking at me." he said, smirking again.

"Hate it? Far from that. I think you look h- well... um." you bit your tongue.

You never made a move on him even though you wanted to so many times, he drove you crazy every day, testing your mental strength as he strolled around shirtless, sometimes only with a towel wrapped around his middle, still wet from his shower. And you had a feeling he knew what he was doing, he was playing with you and he knew you were gonna eat out of his hand no matter what he does.

If you say it now, it'll be there on the table, laid out for him to make the next move.

You were sure the sly bastard was teasing you constantly.

"I look what? Say it." he dared you.

You put your fork down, wiping your mouth as you looked at him again.

"Hot. I think you look hot." you said, your heart beating out of your chest.

"Damn, did I have to shave my head for you to finally admit that?" he smirked and yes you were furious.

But you were also turned on at the way he was eye-fucking you and licking his plump lips, making sure to put his pretty tongue piercing on display.

Fuck, it was even hotter now.

"Shut up." you threw a napkin at him and he laughed at your feeble attempt to chase him away.

"Make me." he bit on his lip.

You didn't expect that.

"Make you?" your thighs pressed together, your stomach filling up with butterflies as you felt arousal gather on your pussy.

"Yeah, shut me up. Be creative with it." he smirked.

You observed him shortly as you felt annoyance and arousal rise inside you, wilding like the sea that was constantly spilling between your legs.

You stood up, pushing your chair back, almost making it fall down before you rounded the table to his side.

Hyunjin had a shit-eating grin on his face, manspreading in the chair as he looked up at you as if he was inviting you to sit in his lap.

You grabbed his chin making his eyes flutter instantly as you leaned in closer to his face.

God, he was beautiful.

"What are you waiting for, doll?" he smirked.

God, he angered you so badly.

So you crashed your lips on his, finally tasting him, feeling his soft lips move against yours.

Your hand slid on his face, his soft skin under your fingertips as you made your way to his hair.

Hyunjin was smirking into the kiss as you swiped your tongue over his lips, pushing it into his mouth to play with him, your hand finally touching his hair and it was surprisingly soft as you caressed him.

Hyunjin's large hands grabbed at you, pulling you into his lap as you whimpered into his mouth.

The kiss was sloppy, full of slurping sounds and teeth clanking occasionally but neither of you cared.

"Creative enough?" you asked when you parted for air, his lips were swollen and glistening with spit and you were sure yours were the mirror image.

"I think you can do better." he noted, the annoying smirk playing on his lips as always.

You held his face as you crashed your lips on his once more, kissing him harder and Hyunjin gripped at your hips before his hands slid down to your ass.

You bit on his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and making him groan. His hand lifted up as he smacked your ass and you accidentally grinded against his growing bulge.

You froze for a moment and he looked at you hazily, his cheeks rosy, and a lazy smile, he looked even more edible than moments ago.

"Backing out?" he asked.

"N-no." you whined as he gripped your ass and pressed you into him, slightly moving against your core.

"Want me to take the lead, doll?" he asked with a smirk and you really didn't want to give him the satisfaction but he was already on it, leaning in as he started kissing your neck.

You shivered as he massaged your ass, slowly moving his clothed length against you and making your panties even more soaked.

Your hands were on his head and the back of his neck, touching him and getting used to the feel of it.

Hyunjin bit into your flesh, sucking on it and you wanted so badly to pull on his hair but you couldn't so you gripped the back of his neck, making him whine as his hands traveled under your shirt.

You were glad you didn't wear your bra as Hyunjin went straight for your tits, grabbing at them and playing with your nipples as he kept leaving marks on your neck.

You literally thought in that moment that he was going to make you cum in your panties, you felt so pathetic for letting him win so fast but he stopped all his movement, making you whine.

"Shh, doll." Hyunjin shushed you, grabbing your shirt and sliding it off, tossing it somewhere aside.

He looked at your tits as if he was in a trance but before you let him come near them, you tugged on his shirt so he took it off.

He had a few tattoos here and there and you wanted to press your lips to every single one, trace them with your tongue as if you were drawing on him.

Hyunjin didn't notice your mesmerized face because he was focused on your breasts, he finally leaned in and wrapped his lips around your nipple, moaning as he started sucking.

You whimpered, throwing your head back as you ran your fingers on the back of his neck.

Hyunjin's tongue lapped at your nipple, his hand sliding down into your panties.

You jolted a little, you didn't think he was this impatient but his fingers already found your puffy clit as he pressed into it and started moving them in circles.

You gripped his head, holding him down as he sucked on your breast harshly, making him whine around you as he sped up with his fingers.

"So wet for me, you're dripping." he ran his fingertips on your folds, gathering your wetness before he pulled them out of your panties and brought them to your mouth.

"Taste yourself." he smirked and you complied, opening your mouth as you moved against him, needing to feel anything as you sucked on his fingers.

He kept smirking as his other hand gripped your breasts, playing with them and you were just about to explode.

You gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away.

"I need more." you whimpered and he chuckled.

"Mm. What would that be?" he wrapped his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your collarbone and your breasts.

"Hyunjin, stop teasing me or so help me god-"

"What are you gonna do doll?" he smirked up at you, pressing your chest against his skin.

He was so warm and you wanted to drown in him.

You were about to get so annoyed with his teasing as you stood up, but Hyunjin followed you quickly, one arm wrapped around you as he moved the plates aside, making room to sit you up on the table.

You gasped in shock, looking back at the half finished dinner Hyunjin just pushed on the side, his fingers hooking into your pants.

"Here? Hyunjin, we eat here." you tried to scold him but he giggled.

"Oh, I'm gonna eat." he smirked, pulling your pants down and throwing them aside as you whimpered.

"Hyun!" your voice came out high pitched as he ran his fingers over the wet patch on your panties.

"All this for me?" he stared at you and you shivered under his gaze.

"Y-yeah." you swallowed, shivering in anticipation.

Hyunjin spread your legs before kneeling down, making you grip the table when his breath hit your core.

He leaned in, his lips attaching to your clothed clit as he licked at it, making the fabric even more wet before he started sucking on it.

"H-Hyun!" you moaned, your hand flying to his head to push him into you.

He smirked against you, tongue lapping over your folds as his nose pressed into your clit.

"P-please." you moaned, already grinding against his perfect face.

"Ah fuck it, I'm still hungry." he teased before pushing your panties aside, his tongue gathering your sweet juices as he moaned into you.

Your legs trembled as he started to suck on your clit, moaning constantly as if he was the one getting head, not you.

You kept running your hands on his soft hair, pushing him closer to you as he ate you out teasingly slowly, his tongue lapping at your insides, drinking from you, his piercing driving you crazy.

You needed more, faster, deeper and your legs started closing around his head but Hyunjin gripped your thighs, forcing you open as he kept eating you out like you were the last meal he was ever going to have.

You grinded against his face, his nose kept pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his tongue and soon your legs were shaking.

You kept him pressed against you and he moaned into your pussy, making out with your lower lips and you were losing your mind.

It didn't take much longer for you to explode on his face and tongue and Hyunjin eagerly licked it all up.

"Fuck." you groaned as he lifted up, licking around his swollen lips.

He looked at you as if he still wasn't satiated, as if he was going to devour you whole and at that moment you wanted him to.

"I could do that for hours." he whined, hand gripping at his obvious bulge.

"Why didn't you?" you smirked, still breathless.

"I wanna fuck your little pussy until it's shaped like my cock." he said as he pulled his length out, making you whimper and gasp at his words.

He gave himself a few tugs and you stared at his pretty cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

He gripped your panties and pulled them off before standing closer to you.

"H-Hyunjin!" you moaned when he pressed his tip on your folds.

"Gonna be a good doll and take it?" he smirked and you nodded.

He chuckled before pushing in, making you moan loudly as your nails dug into the table beneath you.

It wasn't the most comfortable thing to lay on but the feeling of Hyunjin stretching you with his cock and filling you up so perfectly made your mind cloudy.

He leaned closer to you and you gripped at his arms immediately as he held your hips, thrusting into you semi-fast.

"F-fuck..." you moaned, already on edge and it was embarrassing.

"How many times have you fantasized about me, hm babygirl?" Hyunjin smirked as he pressed himself closer to you, his cock massaging your cervix as his happy trail rubbed against your skin.

You opened your lips to speak as he held your hip, his other hand lifting up to put your hair behind your ear.

Before you could answer, your pussy clenched around him and you came all over his cock, tears flooding your eyes instantly.

"You came already?" he laughed mockingly as you dug your nails in his shoulders.

"I- I-" you were about to actually cry. This has never happened to you.

"It's okay doll. I know you're desperate for my cock. I think that makes you even cuter." he smirked as he started fucking you harder, the table with all the plates and glasses clattering.

"Ah!" you moaned repeatedly, not able to form any coherent words or sentences as he fucked you dumb on your kitchen table.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as Hyunjin continued pounding into you, leaning closer again so he could grunt in your ear as you touched his soft short hair again, at this point the new look was making you feel even more aroused.

"I knew this pussy was greedy for my cock. Look how she's sucking me in." he looked down at where his length disappeared inside you so you followed his eyes, whimpering when you got the visual of his cock covered in your white cream fucking in and out of you.

"Shit!" you clenched around him again as he looked up at you.

"You gonna cum for me again?" he smirked, fucking you with even more force, the plates were dangerously close to the edge of the table.

"Y-yes!" you whimpered, completely dizzy and out of your mind as you squirted around his cock, your pussy gripping him so tightly that Hyunjin couldn't help it as he twitched inside you.

You scratched at his back as he dug his nails into your hips, filling you up with spurts of hot cum.

A crash startled you as he lazily fucked into you, trying to hold onto his high as long as possible and both of you looked up, seeing that one of the plates had fallen on the floor, smashing into pieces.

"Oh." Hyunjin groaned as he caged your head with his arms before he leaned down to kiss you, pressing his wet body against yours.

Both of you were sticky and wet and you couldn't believe you just let your hot roommate fuck you on the table in your kitchen.

He pulled out and chuckled at the mess.

"Wow you did a number on my back." Hyunjin noticed his reflection in the window, his back red with scratches.

"That's cause you didn't have any hair I could pull on." you smirked as you sat up.

"The way you held onto me I wouldn't have any left." he smirked back and you slapped his arm, giggling at him.

"I take it your really like my new hair." he leaned his hands on the table, caging you in again.

"I really like you." you said, your face heating up.

"I know you do, doll. Why do you think I've been teasing you? I was just waiting for you to finally react." he winked and you wanted to smack him but he caught your hand and held it.

"I really like you too." he said before kissing you.

"We should clean up the mess." you said as you leaned back.

"We should. After round two. Or more. Who knows." Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows before lifting you up in his arms and making you squeal as he carried you towards your bedroom.

You were in for a long night.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

[pinkchaosart]

(I am white and interjecting what I think might be helpful context, tell me to fuck off and I def will)

I think white people get really upset being called racist because, when we think of racism, we think of very extreme examples (white hat organizations in the south, for example). This is because we don't experience racism every day, so the image we have of a racist is very stigmatized and sensational. On the other hand, POC deal with racism every day, you y'all have a much wider experience of it to draw on. Because of this, the mental image of what a POC thinks of as "racist" is a much more day-to-day image versus the burning cross image. White people, in general, don't want to be considered racist because we don't want to be associated with the kkk, right? But when someone does call us out on a racist statement or attitude, they're not calling us a white supremacist, and I think that gap in understanding because of our white privilege is why we get so upset. To us, it doesn't feel low stakes because it feels like we're being compared to the worst of humanity.

But!! That's our issue to deal with.

It is not POCs job to manage our hurt feelings. It is our responsibility to widen our understanding of what racism and prejudice looks like. Being racist is the default state for the race with the most power, especially when that race's power was/is built on the oppression of "the others" as European and White North American power was/is. Our job as white people who want to unlearn our racist ideas is to stay open and to de-stigmatize what "racism" actually means. It's not just for nazi's and weird evangelicals, it's also your teacher, your mom, your best friend. It's you too. It doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't mean you want to incarcerate or kill people that aren't like you, it means you have ideas and thought patterns that need work.

i will say this as a person who is not white: i think being called racist as a white person is like way lower stakes than anyone makes it out to be. and like, the reality is that white people have an inflated sense of anxiety about what being called Racist Means when like. let's be fucking real for a second. it does not meaningfully often result in Material Violence to a person for being "called racist." and I think being racist is just a thing that happens. and like if we are going to say that being accidentally racist from time to time is something that like, is relatively low stakes, that has to go hand in hand with being like. ok well I guess i should take some time to think about why someone might think I'm racist and like Do something about that.

like I think the paranoia and anxiety about how Being Called Racist is something that Does Violence to People is rooted in a white guilt racialized anxiety and if I am going to be real with you I do not think it is based in material reality. you can be a little uncomfortable it's not the end of the world. i think it's frustrating as a racialized person to see so many white people more frantically hand-wringing over the prospect of being called "racist" than over the prospect of Being Racist. it's annoying to say the least.

[poguelandiarafe]

broken promises 3 | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x female reader

warnings - angst, mature language, mentions of infidelity

summary - rafe finds you on the beach and begs for forgiveness but your pain is too raw to think about forgiving him. he's promising to do better for you and the baby but you reject his apologies, leaving him alone in the sand.

(sorry the last two chapters are so short, i'm trying to figure out which direction to take the series in. please please please (hey sabrina) message me or comment your thoughts and ideas!)

not a one-shot, read part one and part two here <3

masterlist

————

“leave me alone, rafe. i don’t want to talk to you.”

you're impressed with yourself, nearly expecting your arms to automatically open wide and accept him back just like that. but they don't, they stay firmly wrapped around yourself and as much as it pains you to realise, you don't want them around him anymore.

rafe runs a hand over his head, a frustrated sigh falling past his lips. he's been driving for hours and you won't even give him the time of day. taking cautious steps, he slowly approaches you until he's standing in front of you.

when you don't react, he kneels down in front of you and places a hesitant hand on your hip. his fingers barely graze your skin before you're quick to grab his hand and throw it off you. the feeling of his skin on yours is too much for you to handle. though your heart and body yearns to be wrapped up in his arms again, your mind is just about strong enough to not allow it to happen.

"let me explain, baby, please." he begs, his voice cracking.

"i said leave me alone," you sigh, yet you can feel your anger bubbling just beneath the surface, "there's nothing to explain."

you already know what he'll say - pathetic excuses and apologies about how much he messed up and that he regrets it. words you can't let yourself be fooled by.

rafe's shoulders sag as the words reach his ears. his hand slowly raises to grab your hip before he drops it back to his side in defeat. he's never felt so helpless before and he hates it. having you so close yet completely out of reach makes his heart ache in a way he never thought possible.

"you don't mean that, we can't end it like this," he whispers, voice thick with emotion as he looks up at you through wet lashes, "there must be something i can do. i'll do anything. i'll wait for you, i'll give you space. i'll do it for you and for our baby. i promise, y/n."

you refuse to look at him, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the ocean, willing yourself not to cry. his stare is burning into your skin and the faintest trace of forgiveness he's looking for from you is nowhere to be seen.

rafe stays kneeling in front of you, never taking his eyes off your face, searching for a crack in your amour. he's trying to maintain his composure, but his breathing is laboured and he's desperately blinking away the tears that blur his vision.

"no. i mean it, rafe. i need you to leave me alone." you say firmly, the words sharp, "i don't want you to wait. i won't stop you from being involved with the baby, but i don't want you to wait for me because i can't be with you anymore. i can't forgive you."

every part of you screams to walk away and never look back, to let him face the consequences of his actions alone. however, your feet remain rooted to the spot, as if a part of you is silently willing rafe to beg harder to fix this, even though you know it wouldn't change anything.

"you don't mean that," he says softly, "you still love me, i know you do. please, just tell me what to do to fix this."

"you shouldn't have to ask me how to fix this. and i do still love you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "but i don't trust you, rafe. you've made your bed. now, lie in it."

for a split second, you think he's going to argue. his lips part to say something but the words never make it past them. so, before you can change your mind, you turn on your heel and quickly walk over to your car, each step feeling heavier than the last. you don't look back, even when you hear him choke out a broken plea. behind you, rafe stays kneeling in the sand, watching as you walk further and further out of his life.

once you reach the car, you let out a trembling breath and attempt to compose yourself. sliding into the driver's seat, the jagged edges of your keys dig into your palm and you squeeze them tighter, as if turning your emotional pain into physical pain will somehow help. for a moment, you just sit and stare, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you.

a few minutes pass before you start the car, and the last thing you see before driving off is rafe sitting in the sand with his head in his hands and knees pulled up to his chest. the thought of going back crosses your mind and you force yourself to look away, to focus on the road instead. you don't know where you're going, only that you can't go home.

taglist: @hellothere7 @faephoria @xcinnamonmalfoyx @samwinchesterisawhore @alyisdead @maybankslover @vdotcom @kundaquarius @lil-sparklqueen @flvredcas @esquivelbianca @pillowprincess4him @mariadu2 @suyqa @sexy123s-s @inmyowndefender @dreamygirli3 @aesthetic-lyss @gorgeouscgirl

[s-4pphics]

WHERES ALL THE ANGST!!!!!

i needed something injected into my veins rq yayyy i wrote this in like 5 mins so it’s ass no context I GOT THE LAST LINE FFROM A PROMPT LIST BUT I LOST IT I NEED TO FIND IT BUT I NEEDED TO CRRYYY SOMEONE MAKE ME CRY PLEASEPELASS

vi being a piece of shit and projecting onto her sneaky link bc she misses yet resents cait I MISS EMO VI SO BAD …. OHHH MY SHAYYLAAAA

—

“C-Can you kiss me slower?”

“… What?”

“I asked if you could kiss me slower.”

“I heard what you said. Why’d you say it.”

Your eyes remain shut for your own protection. You fucked up the second you opened your mouth for anything other than the acceptance of her tongue. Your fists ache from how hard they clench on her back. Vi sighs before dropping her hands from your cheeks and rising completely from the bed. Only when you hear her rummaging through her liquor boxes do you open your eyes.

The arrangement she set up for the both of you had very simple instructions. You walk her home from the rink whenever she’s too fucked up to function on her own, and she eats you out in repayment, but you don’t speak about anything. No goals, no aspirations, no past hook-ups, no trauma, no nothing. You just guide her home, get your brains fucked out, then leave while she cries into her pillow. You never have the courage to ask what breaks her every night. When you first met, you attempted to keep the conversation light and goofy with every intention of cheering up a seemingly struggling individual. You would’ve never approached her if you knew this would be the outcome.

Vi’s especially cruel when she’s intoxicated.

You don’t know much about her, but on a good day, she’s caring and protective. You’ve only ever seen blips of that gentle side whenever somebody at the bar or rink tries drunkenly touching you in places they shouldn’t, but your heart never forgot even though she has.

“I hate when you do shit like that.”

She speaks with such calm conviction. Your face burns in embarrassment while your heart pounds in anxiety. You hate when she calls you out on your sensitivity. You’re not sure what’s happened over the past month. Maybe distance really does make the heart grow fonder. To say you missed Vi was, secretly, an understatement. Her warmth comforted you in a way your blanket never could.

“Sorry.” You say meekly, already reaching for your pants off the floor.

“Are you actually? It’s your second time doin’ it.” Liquid sloshes and you know she’s drinking from the source.

“I said I’m sorry. The fuck do you want from me?”

She scoffs with a bandaged fist clenched around her bottle’s neck, “I made it clear the second I met you, didn’t I?”

A distraction. A temporary fix. A midnight companion until she got her shit together. You know you’ve fucking heard all of it.

“I hear you, okay? My fucking bad—“

“What the fuck did you think was gonna come from this? I’m actually curious!”

You scramble to redress with a lump in your throat, trying your hardest to dismiss the beration she throws at you.

“You know what’s crazy about people like you? After everything we go through down here, you’re still so fucking trusting. Couldn’t sense danger if it was starin’ you right in the face, huh?”

Where the fuck did you put your bag? “Do you have to be such a fucking asshol—“ Your sob chokes when you drop to your knees and snatch your satchel from underneath her bed. Despite how small her space is, the door feels miles away.

“Don't you get it? I’m not a fucking fanasty, I’m not gonna save you, we’re not gonna be together—“

“FUCK YOU!”

“Yeah, fuck you, too. Maybe you shouldn’t have put your trust in someone else so much—“

You slam the door before she can spill anything else.

[teddybeartoji]

bakugou and vampire!reader................ he's so unsure about everything, he doesn't really know what to do with himself or you or the fact that you're a vampire but when you kneel down in front of him and bat your eyelashes while asking to taste his blood, he really has no other option that to just let you do it. 

his heart is about to combust, he's sweating and he's squirming in his seat – with you sat between his thighs, gently cradling his hand and kissing his knuckles, it's impossible for him to calm himself. he feels a bit lightheaded from the way you're looking at him; your pupils are dilated, your eyes low, as you force down your own desire and focus on guiding him through his first time instead. 

he can't even bring himself to say anything when you ask him whether you can keep on going – he gives you a nod and you watch his adam's apple bob. you know him well enough to take this a sign to continue; he won't admit that he's nervous, no fucking way, but you do think it's sweet that he's still willing to let you do this. 

when your lips finally ghost over his wrist, he bites down a sound. 

he leans back on his free hand and throws his head back and you're forced to stifle a chuckle – he's awfully cute like this. a blush creeps up from under his shirt collar and without having to see him properly, you already know his face is doing any better either. his whole body burns, it feels as if he's on fire, but he refuses to back down. 

“how are we doing, suki, hm?”

something soars inside him; it spreads from his lower stomach – up and down, to his chest and to his thighs, to his arms and to his legs, to his fingers and to his toes. and you're really not even doing anything just yet. 

“g– good.”

his raspy voice breaks despite him trying to hold it together with all of his might. your hot breath warms his skin and he digs his fingers into the bedsheets below him – he curses his body for being so damn sensitive and he curses himself for being so weak for you. 

“i need you to look at me when i do it.”

his eyes pop open but he doesn't turn to look at you. he doesn't dare. 

“what for?”

“because i don't want to push you too far, baby. i need you to keep your eyes on me, so i can make sure of that.”

his chest heaves. 

“please?”

his body moves completely on its own when he cranes his neck to finally meet your starved gaze again. his answer is just a grumble and his reward is you pressing one last kiss to his wrist – you stay there with your mouth still against him and your eyes fixated on his dark ones for a moment before parting your lips and giving him a glimpse of your sharp teeth. 

bakugou sucks in a breath. 

you sink your fangs into his skin and he clenches his jaw. his whole body tenses up and you placing your free hand on his thigh does nothing to help him relax; his pupils grow bigger at the sight of you latched onto him, at the feeling of your tongue against him. the sensation of you draining his blood is weird to say the least but there isn’t a single part of him that wants to pull away. 

he’s mesmerized. 

when you trail your hand up over his body until you finally reach the middle of his chest, you give him a few pats, silently telling him to breathe again. he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes, he knows you’d tease him for it if you weren’t busy drinking his blood, and the flush on his cheeks deepens.

but it doesn’t take long before his mind starts growing hazy and you know you’ll have to stop a bit earlier than you usually do, but it’s not like you really mind. you watch how his blinking slows and feel his breathing finally begins to even out – pulling away from his wrist, his eyes widen a bit more as he watches you lick your lips clean and stand from your place between his thighs, only to straddle his hips instead. 

ignoring how tired his body suddenly feels, he snakes his arms around your middle anyway and lets you push him down onto his back.

you nip at his jaw and press yourself flush against him. “that wasn’t too bad, was it, baby?” 

the fact you’re so fucking close now makes bakugou’s head flood with filthier images than he’d like to admit but he blames it all on the delirium caused by the blood loss. he swallows down a groan as he kneads the plush flesh of your waist and shakes his head.

he thinks your hum sounds like a purr. 

and you think he looks extra cute like this. 

slowly, you tilt your head to the other side of his face and lower yourself down, so you can press your lips against his pulse point. “will you let me do it here next time, suki?”

goosebumps raise on his skin despite how warm he feels and his hips buck up into yours in an instant. 

“fuck…” 

“say yes.” 

bakugou doesn’t like to be told what to do. he doesn’t like when people order him around and he doesn’t like when people command him. 

“yes.”

[bos-hts]

You know, I've never thought about that before. The closest you can get these days is going to a local Christian-oriented church and feeling the god's lifeforce breath in the space, full of those who believe and care for a god that's just not your's. I can appreciate it sometimes though, when I truly need a space to connect to the spiritual in a way I didn't summon on my lonesome. I have respect for that God, for everything good it stands for, but he is simply not my own and I don't think I'll truly desire to work with him other than those moments in the church.

Reading this makes me want to do something about it, buy some planks for a floor and dig up some rocks to plaster together to form walls, stain the floors and paint canvas to hand on the walls like a makeshift wallpaper to honor a deity of choice and a buy a standing firepit to burn offerings for the god. It'd be nothing much, and I'm no builder. No talent, interest or skill on my side. But maybe I'd breathe in the light of Hestia and feel her care in the drafts of it. A simple temple of her own. I don't know if she even has her own temple anywhere anymore. I know she has some in the rooms of those who work with her, in their fireplaces and kitchens and alter tables and drawers and shoeboxes. But does she still have a temple? Is it in ruins somewhere? I can likely look it up.. q

If I think too hard about ancient Greece I'll cry because what do you mean I'll never get to worship at my gods' temples in their full glory? Imagine how close they must have felt. The wind through the temple halls must have felt like their breath. Standing in those temples must have felt like standing before that god themself. Giving them tiny offerings as they tower over you. Approving.

My chest feels tight with the knowing that I'll never be able to bow with my face to the cold floor in those sacred spaces.

UGH!

[neferaskingdom]

♡ I Need A Charles Dickens | CL16

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Maybe teasing him so much was not her best idea but all's well that ends well am I right?

A/N: Guys I swear this is the last Christmas fic. But I was listening to Nonsense Christmas by Sabrina Carpenter and my brain immediately spawned this. like I don't even know if this was an innuendo or not but my brain sure as hell thought so.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Warning: This chapter contains non-explicit sexual content

Dinner with your family was always lively. Christmas Eve had everyone in high spirits—your dad cracking his usual corny jokes, your mom fussing over the perfect placement of the centerpiece, and your siblings sneaking cookies before dessert.

And then there was Charles.

Perfect, charming Charles, sitting next to you at the table, effortlessly winning over everyone as usual. He looked good enough to eat, dressed in a snug sweater that hinted at his toned physique and a smile that could have melted the snow outside.

But as much as he seemed at ease, you knew better. You could see it in the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his hand occasionally tightened on the edge of the table, and the barely-there flush on his cheeks.

You had him exactly where you wanted him.

It started small. A lingering touch on his arm as you reached for the butter. “Can you pass that to me, Charles? Thanks, love.”

Your hand brushed his, fingers lingering just a moment too long, and you saw the way his jaw tightened, his smile faltering for the briefest second before he regained his composure.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice smooth but strained.

Then, as your mom brought out the mashed potatoes, you leaned close to him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear under the guise of making conversation. “These are your favorite, right?”

He inhaled sharply, his hand gripping the fork a little tighter. “Oui,” he managed, his accent thicker than usual.

But still, he didn’t break.

Halfway through the meal, you excused yourself to grab the extra bread rolls from the kitchen. On your way back, you “accidentally” brushed against his chair, your hip grazing his thigh and—very deliberately—his crotch.

“Oops,” you said innocently, setting the rolls on the table and glancing at him. “Sorry about that.”

Charles froze for a moment, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his knife and fork. He didn’t look at you, but you caught the way his chest rose and fell a little faster, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth.

Still, he said nothing, though the storm brewing behind his eyes told you he was hanging on by a thread.

You weren’t done.

After dessert, Charles handed you a beautifully wrapped box. “Open it,” he said, smiling nervously.

Inside were several books you’d been wanting for months.

“Charles,” you breathed, genuinely touched. “These are perfect.”

His face lit up, relief washing over him. “I hoped you’d like them.”

You looked up at him, your smile turning mischievous. “I do. But you know,” you said, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear, “I think I could use some Charles Dickens too.” 

His brain short-circuited.

Charles coughed, turning his face away as his cheeks burned bright red. “Ah—” He grabbed his water glass, taking a long sip to regain his composure.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, watching the way his hand fisted his napkin, the tension radiating from his entire body.

By the time you said your goodbyes and got into the car, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Charles didn’t say much on the drive home, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, his jaw set as he stared straight ahead.

You glanced at him, amused. “Are you okay?”

His laugh was dry, almost dangerous. “You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He didn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth twitched, and you knew you’d crossed a line.

The moment you stepped through the door, Charles shut it behind you with more force than necessary, spinning you around and pinning you against it. His hands framed your face, his body pressing into yours as his lips hovered just above yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done tonight?” he murmured, his voice low and filled with restrained frustration.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “I’m not sure. Care to remind me?”

His hand slid down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he pressed closer, his breath hot against your neck. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he growled. “Brushing against me, whispering in my ear, saying things you know you shouldn’t.”

Your pulse raced, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. “And what are you going to do about it?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering. “Oh, chérie, you’ve been such a bad girl tonight,” he said, “And I’m going to make sure you understand it.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, demanding and punishing. His hands roamed your body, his grip possessive as he dominated the kiss, leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

“You’ve had your fun,” he murmured against your lips, his tone softening but still firm. “Now it’s my turn.”

With that, he scooped you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, tossing you onto the bed with a smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Stay right there,” he commanded, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up slowly. “We’re not done yet.”

And as he stalked toward you, you knew you were in for a very memorable Christmas.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Charles was on you, his body moving with a deliberate, unyielding confidence that made your pulse race. He climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as his hands found your wrists, pinning them above your head with ease.

"Do you know how hard it was to sit through dinner tonight?" he asked, his voice low, each word dripping with restrained intensity. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Do you know what you did to me?"

Your throat was dry, your heart hammering against your ribcage as his grip on your wrists tightened just enough to make you feel completely at his mercy.

"I-I might have an idea,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and breathless.

His laugh was soft but dark, laced with a dangerous sort of amusement. "Oh, chérie, I don't think you do."

His free hand trailed down your arm, his touch featherlight, teasing and unhurried. You squirmed beneath him, heat pooling in your stomach as his fingers traced the line of your collarbone, dipping lower with every pass.

"Be still," he ordered, his tone sharp enough to make you freeze, your body obeying before your mind even registered the command.

The tension in the room was palpable, every nerve in your body attuned to his every movement. You felt the weight of his gaze as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and focused, as though he were memorizing every inch of you.

"You've been such a tease tonight," he murmured, his hand continuing its slow exploration. His fingers skimmed the hem of your sweater, pausing just long enough to make you ache for more. 

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't do something about it?"

You swallowed hard, your skin prickling under his touch. "Maybe I was hoping you would."

His smirk was devastating, a perfect mix of amusement and dominance. "Careful what you wish for, mon amour."

His lips claimed yours again, the kiss intense and demanding, leaving you breathless. You felt the scrape of his teeth against your lower lip, a sharp contrast to the softness of his tongue as he deepened the kiss, stealing what little control you thought you had left.

When he pulled back, you gasped for air, your chest heaving as his lips moved to your neck, trailing a line of heat that made your toes curl. Every press of his mouth, every scrape of his teeth, sent shockwaves through you, making it impossible to think about anything but him.

"Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper as his hand finally slid beneath the hem of your sweater, his crotch brushing against your thigh.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both teasing and possessive, as though he were staking his claim. "Good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Because I want you to remember this. Every. Single. Second."

His words sent a shiver through you, your body arching toward him instinctively, desperate for more.

"Patience," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "You don't get to rush me, not after tonight."

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realized he was doing this on purpose-dragging it out, making you feel every agonizing second of his touch. And it was working.

When he finally moved to shed the sweater you'd worn specifically to catch his attention, his hands were slow, precise, as though unwrapping a gift he intended to savor. The fabric pooled on the bed, leaving you exposed to his gaze, which burned into you.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice softer now, reverent even. His hand traced a path down your side, his touch igniting sparks everywhere he touched.

Your breaths came in short, shallow bursts as he leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you.

"Yes," you whispered, your heart swelling with both anticipation and certainty.

"Good," he said, his lips brushing against your skin. "Then let me show you exactly how bad you've been."

You didn’t know how much time had passed. Your body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together, every nerve alive and buzzing, your muscles trembling in the aftermath.

You were exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion—the kind that left you boneless and utterly content, your heart still racing as you tried to catch your breath.

Beside you, Charles sat up on the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. His back glistened faintly, his broad shoulders tense for a moment before he exhaled deeply and turned to look at you.

“Mon amour,” he murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. His touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the way he’d gripped you earlier, his hands firm and unrelenting. “Are you okay?”

You smiled, your voice hoarse from all the times you’d screamed his name. “I’m more than okay.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing,” he said quietly, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Without another word, he stood and disappeared into the bathroom. You heard the sound of water running, and a moment later, he returned with a warm, damp towel. He knelt beside the bed, his movements unhurried as he gently cleaned your skin, murmuring soft reassurances as he worked.

“You pushed me tonight,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate as he wiped your shoulder. “But I might have pushed you harder. Did I go too far?”

You shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “Not at all.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, though his eyes remained serious. “If I ever do, you tell me. Promise?”

“I promise,” you said, squeezing his arm to reassure him.

Satisfied, he set the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms. The heat of his body was soothing, and you curled into him instinctively, resting your head on his chest.

His fingers began tracing lazy patterns on your back, his touch light and soothing. “You completely wore me out,” you mumbled, a soft laugh escaping you.

He laughed too, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “Good,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before teasing me like that.”

“Doubtful,” you murmured, smiling as your eyelids grew heavy.

Charles sighed dramatically, though the smile in his voice was unmistakable. “You’ll never learn, will you?”

“Probably not,” you admitted, your words slurring as sleep began to claim you.

His arms tightened around you, his voice the last thing you heard before slipping into dreams. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

"Merry Christmas Charlie" 

"Merry Christmas love"

[veggiesxxx]

What if... GENSHIN EDITION . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

What if.... (Part 2/?)

Scaramouche ignored you after an argument?(Scaramouche x F!reader)

Ft: Angst, Fluff, Argument. (our bffs)

It wasn't that big a deal, was it? He just.. didn't see breakfast on the table... and he.. He's busy! That's why he hasn't responded to any of your letters. Right? You tried to rationalise with yourself, refusing to believe Scaramouche would purposefully hurt you. You guys were past that, weren't you?

A couple sharp words about his distrust of you and guarded nature had turned into a full-on argument, each side feeling the need to validate their heated words with more. A wave of regret washed over you as you slammed the front door, storming off into the winter night. But remnants of Scaramouche's cold demeanour, kept you from turning back. The cold air stung, but not as much as his disdainful, mocking glare would.

Two days had passed, and he hadn't spoken to you. Not even an icy glance in your general direction. Scaramouche was often prickly and sharp, but those biting remarks were usually accompanied by teasing smirks or mocking scoffs that indicated he didn't mean any hurt. But this was different. He was distant. And deliberately. Every time he graced a doorway, you raised your head hopefully, but that hope was crushed repeatedly when he casually grabbed a cool cup of water, or a book to read before wordlessly leaving you in miserable solitude. It was like he was punishing you.

You tried to be the bigger person, but it was like he refused to let you. He was denying you the chance to fix your relationship.

"Scara-" You tried, blocking his path to the kitchen, but he managed to get past you. "Scara please," you tried again, watching him go and sit curled up on his armchair, reading an old novel Nahida had given him. He didn't even flinch. He cleared his throat, flipping a page of the novel, as if mocking you. Like he was really trying to rub in the fact he was ignoring you.

"Are you really going to keep ignoring me?” you asked, your tone a mix of frustration and hurt. He wouldn't dare let you know, but his chest burned hearing that. His grip on the novel in his hands tightened subtly. “I said something I shouldn’t have, and you did too, but is this—” you gestured to the distance between you “—really what you want?”

When all you got was silence in response, and no movement at all from him, it drove the point home. The point that Scaramouche didn't seem to care anymore. "..Scara.. you're hurting me.." You choked back a sob, chest tight. "I apologised-.. I don't know what you want from me.."

You raised a hand to your mouth to muffle a sob. God, you sounded so pitiful. You hated it. You hated how pathetic you sounded. Like you actually needed him or something

You turned to leave, a hand on the doorframe. Scaramouche didn't say anything, listening to you sob your slow way out of the room. His teeth clenched, biting on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting to the way your crying almost broke him.

"...tch"

"You humans.. always so weak.." his voice was cold, but... it's the first you heard of it in what felt like forever. You stilled, your heart shattering again as he seemed to be trying to bring you more misery. You turned your head, only to stumble a few steps back, seeing him right in your face.

"..."

His clothes ruffled as he moved to pull you into him, a stiff hand on the back of your head, pushing your face into his shoulder. Your tears soaked into his jacket as you cried; with hurt and relief.

“You’re crying,” he stated quietly, his tone lacking its usual sharpness. “I’m sorry,” you blurted, the tears spilling over, soaking his shirt now too. “I just—”

He cut you off by pulling you further into his chest, his arms squeezing you in a way that was almost hesitant. “Stop,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. His hand rested on the back of your head, his touch gentle as he let you cry. "I thought- you hated me.." you continued. His chest tightened, like it was collapsing in on itself. why did it hurt when you said that? He couldn't stand the mere idea of you doubting his feelings for you.

“Don’t be foolish,” he replied, his voice low but firm.

“I was just angry." He thought if he stayed quiet, he’d win somehow. But… seeing you like this… he actually lost, didn’t he?

“...You’re really bad at this," you mumbled weakly, raising your head and this time he didn't stop you. He looked into your eyes for the first time in two days. It wasn’t a perfect apology, but for Scaramouche, to you, it was enough.

“I don't care… don’t cry like that again. I hate it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧༶

Hope you enjoyed!!

Previously :

╰┈➤ Part 1 (What if CHILDE saw a man flirting with you?)

Part 3

╰┈➤ [coming soon] (What if—..)

A/N : this is unexpectedly short- oh well

Please leave a note they make me happy 🐸✨

[supernaturalfreewill]

"Dean! Can you come in here?!" Your voice echoed up the hallway and reached Dean in his bedroom. He immediately stopped in the middle of folding his shirt, discarding it on the bed, and went to the doorway of his room.

"Is everything okay?" he yelled back.

"Yeah, I just—I need your help with something!"

"On my way!" His steps echoed down the tiled hallway and he followed the orange glow of light into one of the storage areas. He found you just inside standing over a table, various items spread out in front of you on the table. "What's all this?" he asked, his deep voice gritty.

"Can you open this jar for me? I can't get the damn thing open."

He gave you a boyish half-smile and accepted it from you.

"What are you smirking about?" you asked him, fiddling with a bronze bowl.

"I don't know. I find it satisfying when you actually need help with something I guess," he teased you. He gripped the metal top and attempted to turn it. His hand slid. "Dammit," he growled, trying again. He readjusted his hold on the jar, squeezed as hard as he could, and twisted. The fucking thing wouldn't budge. Letting out another small noise of frustration he tried again. "Damn thing seems like its rusted sh—OW! What the hell?!"

The bite of your little silver knife was sharp and cold, quickly replaced by a heat and burning across the length of the little cut you'd just inflicted on his forearm. Dean looked down with wide-eyes as a few drops of his blood trickled into the little bronze bowl you'd sneakily arranged underneath him.

His jaw clenched. "What the hell?" he repeated, staring you down. "Why are you cutting me?!"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the sterile gauze you'd already unwrapped and quickly smoothed it over his wound. "Don't be such a baby," you scolded him. "It was just a little nick!"

"Explain. Now." he demanded.

You were already throwing the rest of the ingredients into the bowl before he could stop you and there was quickly a flash of blue light and a puff of sage green smoke. You casually fanned it away with your hand. " Relax. It's just a protection spell. Considering you have a legion of demons after you."

Dean frowned, but sighed, and much of the tension left him. "Just so you know, people usually at least ask if they can use their blood in rituals and shit."

"Couldn't risk it. You might have said no."

"Why would I have said no to a protection spell?"

"Because some of the ingredients are rare and/or expensive and I didn't want to argue with you about your worth," you said, shooting him a pointed look.

He shifted a little and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever." He paused and watched as you turned back to the ingredients. "Do you even need this jar open?" he asked.

You turned and shot him a smile. "I super-glued it," you admitted. "It's just gravel from outside. I needed a distraction for you."

Dean let out a low laugh Your smile was irresistible. "Well, I am glad you're on my side. I'll say that." And he set the jar down with a clack and returned to his laundry.

Prompt: "Just so you know, people usually at least ask other people if they can use their blood in rituals and shit." / "Couldn't risk it. You might have said no."

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death Part 2

Summary: You finally needed Wednesday for something and she learns some interesting things about you in exchange and yet she wants to know more.

Part 1

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 5.8K-ish Warnings: Nothing Really? I guess roles reversed by Wednesday getting her feelings hurt just a tiny bit so a little angst?

The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.

Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.

Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.

But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.

Why?

The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?

Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.

The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.

“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”

The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.

Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”

Still, you said nothing.

Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.

You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?

She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.

But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.

You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.

No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.

Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”

They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.

“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.

“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”

“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.

Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."

“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.

Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"

Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.

As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.

“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.

“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”

“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”

Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.

Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.

Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.

The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”

She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.

“Is Wednesday here?” you asked.

Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.

She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.

The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”

The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice", Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?

“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”

The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?

“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.

Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.

“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.

“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins, Wednesday,” you said.

It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.

And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.

“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”

You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.

Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?

The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.

Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.

Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.

It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.

As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.

Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.

The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.

Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”

Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”

One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.

“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,” Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”

Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”

You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.

Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.

“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”

Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.

Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.

Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”

You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.

“What’s in the book?” she asked,

“Information,” you replied simply.

She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”

“Not me.”

The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.

“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”

Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.

That smirk.

She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.

It was... unsettling.

Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.

“Why are you really here?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.

“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why?” she pressed.

“I had work.”

“Work?”

“Demon hunting.”

It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.

“What… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”

The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.

Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.

“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.

You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”

It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?

“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.

She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.

“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”

You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.

The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”

Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.

Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.

Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”

This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”

You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.

The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.

When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.

This was it.

For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.

As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”

You turned fully now, facing her.

She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity

Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”

“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”

She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.

“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.

You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.

She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.

She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.

When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,

“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.

���I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”

Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”

Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”

“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”

Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”

Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”

“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”

“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”

“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”

Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?

“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”

“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.

Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.

“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"

"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.

“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”

Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”

“No.”

“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.

Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”

“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.

"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”

Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”

“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”

Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”

Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.

“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.

“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.”  Wednesday replied, stepping into position.

Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Where are you?

You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.

Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.

“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.

The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.

Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.

It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.

You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.

She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.

Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”

Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.

“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.

"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.

After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.

Evidently, she was wrong.

She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.

When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.

She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.

As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.

She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”

“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.

“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.

“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.

Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”

The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

But she would never let you see it.

“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.

Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.

And yet, when class ended, you approached her.

“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”

Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.

[A/n: Tried another new route, in most fics I see that it is the reader character who earns Wednesday's smile, so I thought I should reverse the roles a bit, how did you guys like this one?]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax

[your-hockey-mom]

I'm having a shit day, I need Quinn to fix it

Please and thanks

Rain, rain, go away, come again...when you didn't have a hundred errands to run and were short on time to do them. Naturally, it would pour the entire time you were out and about, and your umbrella had decided to break the first time you went to use it. It really set the tone for the rest of the day; a terrible foreshadowing you had hoped wouldn't be the case.

The only reason you were out running those errands in the first place was because you had taken the day off to make sure everything was nice for when Quinn got back home. You knew he was going to be exhausted after finishing another six straight games on the road. Plus, you wanted to enjoy the evening with him knowing nothing would be looming in the back of your mind that would take away from your time together. However, since the minute you got up it was like everything was stacked against you. You had slept through your alarm, getting up almost two hours later than you had intended. You thought you had plugged in your phone but hadn't make a proper connection so your battery was at 12% to start the day. And to add insult to injury (literally), you had dropped a glass while in the kitchen and had cut your hand while trying to pick up the pieces.

Today was proving to be one of those days that were best spent at home, but unfortunately, that wouldn't be the case for you. By this point, your phone was now sitting at 6%, because you realized, after you had left the parking garage, that the charger you left in your car was in Quinn's. You just hoped it would hold on long enough to get you home.

You would be stopped at a red light, mid rush hour, when a message would ding in. It was Quinn and the dreaded text you didn't want to come across your phone until you were already back at his apartment.

"Hey baby, we just touched down. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I might not be there when you get home. Stuck in traffic. </3 I love you, too. <3 <3 Also, phone is about dead. >:("

"Just be careful. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

- - -

Getting everything out of the car had been hard enough, but carrying them with your cut palm was the worst. Being half asleep and dealing with broken glass was not a good combination, something you would note for the future. Sure, you couldn't have texted Quinn to see if he would help you, which you knew he would have, but you were determined to get it done yourself.

When you stepped into the elevator, from the parking garage, all you could think of was "please don't break down. I do not want to walk up the stairs. I do not want to be trapped in an elevator with a dead phone." Thinking it was a bad idea to put such thoughts into the Universe, you'd just count floors instead until you reached Quinn's.

It was a struggle to unlock the door but you had managed though your hand was burning and you were pretty sure you were bleeding again. Just something else that would get tended to later. Once inside, you'd drop everything at the door and Quinn would come from the bedroom to greet you.

"Oh sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were downstairs? I would have helped you with all of this." He wrapped his arms around you and you melt into his body. "I have missed you so much."

"I'm so glad you're home." All of a sudden and without warning, you begin to cry. Likely a culmination of trash sleep, stress, no food, and pain. Your body and emotions were just fried; not to mention you hated when he was gone for so long.

"What's wrong, baby?" Quinn would say softly, gently tightening his hold on you. "Are you alright?" Anytime you were having a rough day, he was the first person to notice and always did everything he could to make you feel better.

"No," you said, hiding your face in his neck. You weren't ready to have him see how much you were struggling.

"Why don't you go sit, hmm? I'll get this."

"I wanted to have everything done for you but today has been awful."

Quinn pulls away from you just enough to tip your chin up towards his face. You can't escape him now and the look on your face makes his puppy eyes heavy with emotion. "Oh, baby~"

He kisses you several times, each one of them sweeter than the last, yet the tears still continue to fall from your cheeks. "Come on, this stuff can wait."

Taking your non-bandaged hand, he ushers you to the sofa where he insists you sit in his lap so you can be as close to him as possible. You loved moments like these just on better circumstances than today had given you.

"Baby, you're bleeding. What happened?"

You had reached up to brush some hair from your eyes when he caught sight of the bandage now tinged bright red in the center. You dropped your hand to your leg and shook your head. "It's nothing. Just a clumsy accident."

"Let me see."

You refuse, sniffling and trying to hold back the welling tears.

"Please?"

Damn those eyes of his; damn the tone of his voice that just took your breath away. You could never truly tell him no and this was no different. You'd turn your palm upwards when you presented it to him, scared it was worse that you thought it was initially.

"May I look at it?"

You just nod, before laying your head against his shoulder. You didn't want to see it and you knew him pulling back the adhesive of the bandage was going to hurt, even though he had the softest touch.

Quinn was always so careful with you; always asking for permission especially if it would potentially cause you pain. Slowly he'd remove the bandage and you would wince against the discomfort even though he did everything he could to make it easy on you. "How did this happen?"

Quinn's tone conveyed deep worry and hurt and that didn't give you the reassurance you were hoping for.

"This morning. I got up late, and was half asleep taking my vitamins and I guess my hand just stopped working and I dropped it. It shattered everywhere. I didn't realize I had grabbed the raw edge until it was too late and I cut myself."

"Oh sweetheart," Quinn whispered laying his head against yours. "Want me to fix you up?"

"I'll get it."

"Please?"

Twice now, he had used that word with (that) tone, and twice now you would fold without another chance to resist. Again, you would silently nod, letting him slip out from under you while he disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. You remembered how you had left it and it made you feel worse, but when he returned, the only thing that mattered to him was making sure you were alright.

"You said today was awful, how come?" He talked to you while he worked so to keep you from focusing solely on your hand and the pain. Everything he did was so thoughtful.

"I stayed up too late watching The First 48, then I slept through my alarms this morning, so I was two hours behind. I guess I hadn't clicked my charger into my phone fully so it didn't charge. I dropped the glass. I didn't get the apartment cleaned. I didn't get the laundry put away. I forgot my charger was in your car. My umbrella broke." With each added reason for the bad day it made you more emotional to the point that he had to stop cleaning the cut to lay a hand on your leg and try to calm you.

"Shhh, baby, baby, it's okay. None of that matters now. I didn't expect you to be waiting for me at the door. I'm just glad you're here now, but I'm sorry you had such a hard day. The apartment is fine, please, don't worry about it."

"But...I left the bathroom~"

"I don't care about it. Honest. I want you to feel welcome here; I want it to be your home. Home should feel lived in." Quinn leaned forward to kiss you yet you frown. You still felt so bad for everything not being done like you wanted it to be. "If you're here, that's all I want."

"You're so nice," you squeak out, hiding your face with your free hand. You don't realize you were breaking his heart, feeling so bad about missing your self-imposed marks.

"Sweetheart, will you look at me, please?"

Dropping your hand, you let your eyes be exposed though you keep it pressed to your lips.

"You're the only thing I care about when I'm here. If you're okay, I'm okay."

"But I'm not okay."

"And I'm not either. May I finish this for you?" His smile was so sweet, so heartfelt as he held your injured hand in both of his. When you answered "yes, please" Quinn brought it to his lips before finishing what he had started. With each new step of the process, he'd check in with you before continuing. He didn't feel that you had any glass in the wound or that you needed stitches, but he didn't want you to do too much the next few days.

"Alright, babe, all done."

"Thank you."

"Of course. Anything for you," his smile continues. "How about you go change your clothes, get into something comfortable and we'll have a lazy evening in bed. I'll get the groceries put away and we'll order take out. How's that?"

"Do you want some help?"

"No babe, I can get it. It won't take me that long, but thank you. I'll meet you in there, okay?"

"Okay." You give him a kiss as a thank you, later apologizing for your mild breakdown earlier.

"It's alright. You're only human, sweetheart and you had a bad day. I can't say I'd do much better. I'd never judge you for anything like that," Quinn replies, holding your face for another kiss. "I promise."

[ellouchi]

One-shot: taking a bath with Jimmy (gn/just hints of suggestiveness)

Disclaimer: none? You know how Jimmy is.

Side notes: super indulgent if you couldn't tell. I wrote this in one day, sorry if this sucks ass. Don't judge me on the order of things! Sorry if it breaks the illusion or something.

"If you needed an excuse to grope me, you could've just asked" Jimmy teased sarcastically, pulling his smelly jersey over his head and dropping it carelessly onto the growing heap of clothes laying on the cold bathroom tiles.

"Uh-huh, you know exactly what I mean." You punched his arm playfully, knowing too well how Jimmy would respond to your proposition in the first place. "We will just take a bath together and that's the end of it."

"And that's it? Really? I find it hard to believe that you don't have any ulterior motives. Besides, I can wash myself just fine without another pair of hands getting in my way, what's the point of us washing together if we won't be fucking?" Jimmy tried again, this time locking his eyes with the buckle of his belt. He could tell you could tell he felt sceptical about this whole idea. From where he looked at it, it didn't make sense, just like countless other things you suggested doing ever since you two became "a couple". However, most of times he enjoyed doing said activities with you, albeit never getting rid of his wariness and cheeky attitude often accompanied by lewd comments.

Once Jimmy was naked, he folded his arms and looked at you expectantly. It was rather an endearing sight, and as much as you would have loved to memorize every detail and curve of your boyfriend's physique, you opted for flinging the last articles of clothes from your own body.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get in!"

It's not like Jimmy has never taken a bath before, it was just the one you had prepared he had a problem with. He scowled back at the hot steam rising in puffy clouds, the kind of temperatures he didn't get to experience before on his skin. The water glimmered with a thin orange sheen from the bath bomb you bought at the store, it gave out a nice smell of grapefruit at least. You observed Jimmy eyeing the tub with mistrust, most likely asking himself if this was even appropriate for humans to wash in. You wondered if Jim would ask you if this would leave him more dirty than before he got in or would this give him third degree burns.

"Looks like Satan's cauldron straight up from hell. Are you sure it won't boil me alive?" So it was the second option.

"I take those bathes all the time and look at me: I'm both clean and unharmed. So quickly get in, unless you want me to manhandle you like a cat."

With a dragged out 'fine' Jimmy dipped his foot into the water, waiting for the burn which never came, and then finally sat in the tub with a wince. The water was way hotter to what he was used to, that much was clear: he could feel the warmth instantly envelope his body like he was wrapped in the blanket set on fire. You followed suit, settling behind him and pulling his body from behind to rest against yours.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Jimmy asked, scenes from different movies flashing somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Next time for sure, but now just lay like this and try to relax" you reassured, not offering any further explanations.

And so Jimmy went silent, just resting there in your embrace, watching the flicker of candles you previously scattered around the bathroom "to add to the atmosphere". Being acutely aware of your exposed body just below him, soft and inviting, really put his lower part of the body to a test. It would be so easy for Jimmy to flip around and pin your wrists above your head, to glide his free hand from your wet flustered face down to your bare abdomen. And yet, the man has closed his eyes instead, listening in to the soft melody you put on the background, trusting you this one time. He had already decided that if this bathing time didn't prove to be worthwhile, he would take matters into his own hands instead. Later.

Jimmy almost jolted from his nap when he felt your hands suddenly snake from his chest to his shoulders. Your fingers begun to slowly knead his tense muscles, smoothing out knots formed from the tension. It wasn't easy, but the water managed to relax his body quite a bit for you to work your magic. Meanwhile Jimmy tried his best to suppress the tremor of pleasure running through him each time you found a new spot to massage. Fuck he never knew how badly he needed that. He could moan alone just from this, but he didn't want you to think something weird of him or think he was this easy to please. Still, without any words you could tell Jimmy felt fantastic: the way his body slacken against yours, hear how he silently sighed, and sense his big hand lightly gripping your knee. You swore you heard him swear under his breath when you dipped your thumbs between his shoulders blades.

"Jimmy, the water is getting cold" you hinted. The man understood it was time for washing, so he lazily rose into a sitting position, folding his knees to the chest.

"Mmm I'm awake I'm awake..." Jimmy grumbled when you poured as much water as you could over his head.

"I know silly, I will wash your hair now" you explained, reaching behind to grab a brand new shampoo bottle you bought for Jimmy. That men's "three in one" shampoo will haunt you for days to come, you always wondered who were those men who bought this stuff but here was Jimmy, living under your roof. He even had the nerve to complain about you wasting products when you chucked the bottle to trash.

You carefully rubbed the gel into Jimmy's scalp, humming to the changing tune of the music, minding tangled locks which you gently combed through to even out. As you massaged his head further, the delicious fruity scent followed into Jimmy's nostrils, the smell he initially attributed to lady's shampoo now seeming more unisex than he initially thought. When you lightly scratched his scalp, the man almost let out a purr, leaning into your touch, following your motions. Jimmy washed his hair all the time, why with you it felt so different?

"Like this... this feels good yeah Jimmy?" You cooed into Jimmy's ear. He couldn't see your face but he could hear your smile in your voice. Obviously, Jimmy enjoyed every second of it, but you relished in too, huh...? He couldn't understand why.

Your boyfriend responded with an affirmative hum as you rinsed his hair, tilting his jaw up so the soapy water couldn't get into his eyes.

Another creaky sound of the bottle being opened disturbed an otherwise silent room, of the shower gel Jimmy assumed. He felt a sponge press onto his neck, moving in circles. The man took it as a sign to lower his head and sit tighter, exposing more of his back for you to wash.

Jimmy had a brief moment of clearance appear out of nowhere. Stretching his back like that has never felt so easy before, his skin and muscles would tug at his bones, despite the fact that he practiced weightlifting for so many years. The tension sitting in his body, akin to a spring ready to burst, suddenly just not being there. He couldn't deny that your touch...no, not only that, your care and your presence put his body and mind to the state of ease he couldn't remember feeling ever from anyone else in his life. Hell, when was the last time Jimmy exposed his back like that to anyone? When was the last time someone's hands delicately touched his body with nothing but care?

When was the last time he was taken care of in such an intimate, non sexual way...?

You stoped moving the sponge in your hand when you felt Jimmy's frame lightly shaking. Did you find a ticklish spot? You were about to tease your boyfriend, oblivious to the revelations the man came up with, until you ears picked upon a chipped sob. Your mood suddenly darkened.

"Jim? Hey, what's wrong? Hey...."

The man didn't respond instantly, his shoulders buckling inwards before he spoke "...'s nothing, sorry." He replied as flatly as he could muster, responding to his own reflection on the water.

"Did I do something wro--" you couldn't help asking before your question got cut off.

"Stop. No, don't say that. You didn't do... anything wrong... It's me..."

The last word felt like a punch to the gut. You desperately wanted Jimmy to turn around, for you to wipe his tears away and tell the sweetest reassurance, but you knew it was better to let him be. Jimmy wouldn't want you to see him weeping like this.

"Do you want me to hug you?"

"Yeah..." He stopped briefly "... please".

Without a beat, you carefully laid your warm body on Jimmy's cooling back, putting your cheek on the backside of his shoulder. Your arms embraced his waist protectively, occasionally moving to caress his sides. The water was starting to go cold, the candles almost burned to the end.

The music continued to quietly hum in the corner.

[kpoperotics]

Surrendering to Lia x Male reader

When the quiet allure of the night draws you closer to Lia, you discover a world where restraint melts away and passion ignites like wildfire. Her touch teases, her moans beckon, and every shared moment pulses with an electric intensity that leaves you craving more.

On the bed. Candles burning, giving the soft warm light in the room. Lia's lying beside you, her hands are already on you making you shiver with their touch. She moans in your ear, because she knows how bad this drives you crazy. She won't waste time, she has already taken your pants and underwear off, stroking your hardening shaft.

She jerks you off really good, making you feel her palm against your slick hard cock. Her hand rubbing up and down, her grip is tight and firm

"Just say it, you want me to take you in my mouth, babe" She says and you don't even have the time to think about it that... she's already sucking on your tip. You can't help but let go of a moan.

Pleased with your reaction, Lia takes more of you in her mouth, she starts to gag on your cock as she bobs her head up and down on your hard cock. She looks at you, silently asking for approval, you nod and hold her head with your hands as she keeps going.

In the meantime, her hand reaching up to your balls to cup and massage them, the pleasure only adding and adding the longer she sucks and treats you right.

She pulls back for a moment to breathe, strands of drool stick her chin to your cock. "God, you're just so fucking good, babe" You say, she smiles and takes you back in her mouth, this time diving deeper than before, so deep that she gags loudly; she's taking you all the way in, her nose buried against your pubis.

She's making you loose your mind, that's obvious, and she wants to take you to the edge, make you cum so hard for her. God she wants it so bad, and she works to earn it.

Her hands are working on your balls as well, squeezing and rubbing against them to increase your pleasure. She closes her eyes, her tongue flickering against your throbbing cock.

"Shit, Lia, I'm almost there- oh fuck" You moan. Lia smiles at your declaration and stops sucking you, to tease you but also because she doesn't want you to cum in her mouth. She straddles her legs on you and rubs your cock against her wet dripping pussy. She moans and throws her head back, then, she finally sinks on your cock, letting you dive all the way in her.

"Fuck!" She exclaims, one hand on your chest and the other one squeezing her own breast as she starts to ride you.

Squeezing her breast and riding you, Lia is a moaning and gasping mess. She's too focused to get your cum inside her that if you asked her what's her name, she'd probably answer it wrongly.

"Fuck me, use me, fill me up with your cum. Please, I need it, I need you inside me so bad, I beg you daddy.." She begs with her eyes half closed and her mind hazy with pleasure.

You're going to cum so much inside her that even if she took pills, she would probably still get pregnant.

Seeing her boobs bounce and her jumping on your cock like that brings you close to the edge, you grab her ass and squeeze it strongly, your nails leaving marks on her skin. You even spread her ass cheeks to finger her asshole, deeply, while she rides you.

Lia's eyes roll back in her head and her tongue darts out at the sensation. She can't even moan anymore, she went too dumb even for that.

You cannot hold back anymore at the sight and you just let go. Spilling so, so much cum in her womb. She's a living earthquake, trembling, shaking. She went so dumb for your cum, so cum-holic. You're still cumming inside her, deep in her womb. She crumbles on you, her mind coming back from the high, she regains her senses and looks at you.

"I have nothing to say but... wow" She smiles.

You smile back at her and lie her down on the bed.

"Goodnight, Lia" You say.

[rueclfer]

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part one

a/n: keigo's was specifically inspired by this :'-) (im bawling)(the other's will be out sometime later) happy birthday keigo baby <3

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

keigo never stopped wincing at the wind chills. even with several layers hung over his shoulders and the thickest coat, nothing stopped his scars from burning against the coastal breeze blitzing past his figure.

today he feels that familiar burning in his stomach as if he's ready to hurl over and release its contents into the sand.

"god, it's really pouring." you mutter towards the waves crashing against the shore.

your grip tightens on the umbrella, making sure the wind doesn't take your only cover with it.

"the first rain of the season is always insane, ya know." keigo murmurs, eyes turning down to his feet, watching his heels dig into the wet sand.

"it's nice though." you softly smile, reaching up and brushing away the ocean spray from the chilled skin of his cheeks.

you two stop for a moment and take in the ambience- the rain bouncing off of your umbrella, the crying seagulls in the distance, and the waves violently folding into one another.

keigo never considered himself religious.

for more nights than not, he finds himself asking how he'd be able to to walk this earth again- if he'll amount to anything ever again. every day is hard. he lost a piece of himself. nothing feels right.

no amount of praying could save him from himself, but you did.

"it is." he returns the smile, raising his gaze to meet yours, making his stomach twist.

you wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him closer under your shared umbrella- barely big enough to shield the both of you.

"are you cold, though? it's chilly." you rub your hand up and down his back, gently running your palm over his scarred shoulder blades.

keigo remembered the first few days without his wings and how cold and haunting it was. uneasiness and vulnerability followed him everywhere, but he found solace and safety plopped right on top of you with your fingers tracing the curves of his back.

he lost everything, and there you were to keep him together.

"we can go back to the car soon, if you want. get home and snuggle?"

he doesn't answer. he takes your arms around from his back and holds your hand in his, running a thumb across your knuckle. keigo was shivering, but nothing was more uncomfortable than the dryness in his throat and the burning flame in his stomach.

you slightly cock your head, and take note of his cold clammy hands and fidgety feet tapping against the wet sand. "actually, let's start heading back, yeah? it's gonna get dark soon."

you start to step away before he pulls you back with a tighter grasp around your hand.

"wait. angel, i-um." he stammers, eyes suddenly going wide. "wait."

keigo never believed in a god. not until now when he lowered his knee to the ground, and whispered a prayer.

"marry me. please."

you turn around and find him kneeling right before you, tears brimming his eyes and raindrops pelting against him.

there's a desperate strain in his voice, a cloud of air escaping his lips with every word. it was you and forever, or nothing at all. keigo had lost everything, everyone, and himself over and over again, but you were his salvation.

he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckle.

"please." he mutters once more against your cold skin, letting the heat of his exhale warm the back of your hand.

a beat passes. then two.

"i had a whole speech prepared, i swear, and i'm blanking right now because i'm so fucking nervous, but i love you. i love you and i am nothing without you."

you don't notice that your umbrella has fallen off to the side, letting the storm engulf you both.

"for the longest time, i wanted nothing more than to watch the world from above again, but i need you to know that i'd die to walk this earth with you. i want forever with you. i'd sacrifice the skies for that. please."

you fall against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, choking back sobs.

"god, you're so dramatic, kei" you cry into his neck.

he huffs out a hearty laugh, and his shoulders fall in relief as he melts into you.

"if i stuck to the script it would've been ten times more theatrical i'm sorry to disappoint." he mumbles in your hairline.

"yes. it's you and me. yes." you choke out. "let's have forever together."

you pull away from him, watching the beads of water trail down his nose bridge and fall into your lap.

"i love you. i love you, i love you, and i love you." you mutter against his lips, peppering kisses in between every breath. "forever."

-

keigo tag: @bitchyfestivalbouquet

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0

[leighsartworks216]

Suffering

Sylus x touch-averse!gn!Reader

If I had a nickel for every fic I wrote that had a white-haired, red-eyed night-dweller comforting the reader for not being able to touch them without being viscerally uncomfortable, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, touch aversion, touch starvation, kissing, first kiss

Word Count: 1,298

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You trace your fingertips lightly over the angle of his cheek, the bump in his nose, the soft skin under his eyes. He's so soft, so vulnerable. His eyes are closed. His brow is relaxed. He sighs as you trace over his eyebrows.

Despite your ongoing relationship, this is the closest you've ever been to him. The most intimate touch you've ever shared. It took so much effort on your part to work yourself up to even this much, but he hasn't once faltered. If you flinch away, he lets you go. Any touch you deem him worthy of, he accepts gracefully, always doing his best to accommodate you without overwhelming you.

This overall has culminated in "hand holding", where you only link your pinkies together, and lingering near each other to the point of almost-but-not-quite touching. You know he wants to embrace you. Hold you close, bury his face in your neck and rest his hands flat on the skin of your back, legs tangled together.

Even now, there's a gap between you both. He lays on his side of the bed and you lay on yours. You touch his chin, faltering.

"I'm sorry I don't touch you the way you want me to," you whisper into the still air.

His eyes open right away. Piercing eyes that gleam in the dim light, staring into your very soul. "Don't apologize for that, kitten," he dismisses, matching the volume of your voice.

You frown, but you don't want to stop just yet. He's so soft and warm. You trace his jaw, avoiding his gaze. "Why shouldn't I? I know it's hard for you..."

"It's hard for you, too," he argues. "Why should you be the one to suffer for my sake?"

"Why do you have to suffer for mine?"

His lips quirk up slightly. You can't stop yourself from tracing the corners, where the skin bends around his lip. His eyes flicker down. You can almost feel his desire to kiss or bite your fingertips, and the effort it takes to stay still.

"For moments like this," he answers after a moment. He lets his eyes close again. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?"

You pinch his cheek. He chuckles. "Yeah, but I'm not absent. Don't you want a partner who can give you all the attention you want?"

"No." He opens his eyes again, half-lidded and docile. "I want you."

You smooth your thumb over his cheek where you pinched him. In a small voice, you ask, "Are you sure?"

He hums. "More than anything."

You hesitantly meet his eyes. They're so full of warmth and care. There's no deception to be found at all. No hidden flicker of a grimace or eye roll or anything. You can't help the disbelief that runs its course through your head.

How many partners in the past have been upset with your lack of physical affection? How many called you cold and uncaring? How many forced you to accept their touch, even as it burned like acid on your skin? How many...?

Your first thought is how one day, he will be tired of this dance. He'll be overcome with the need to be touched, held, doted on, and you won't be able to provide. Maybe he'll be like that one ex, who caressed and kissed someone else right in front of you after you pulled your hand away. Or maybe he'll seek it out in secret, with someone far more beautiful and far more willing than you; any of the beautiful people that would do anything for him to even glance their way. Or maybe he'll just leave you right there, with scathing words that denounce you as being broken and unworthy of the attention he lauds onto you.

Your second thought, however, screams out. It shouts that he would never do that. Never would he hurt you on purpose. Never would he even lie to you like that. He's not like any of your exes, or past friends who drifted away when they couldn't lean against you while laughing about something stupid.

You brush your fingers lightly over his lips. His eyelids flutter slightly, soft breath exhaled from his nose, fanning against your knuckles. He's so beautiful. His lips are so soft and plush. His cupid's bow is so pronounced. The way his skin shifts under your fingers with the slightest pressure...

Your heart races. Your breath catches. You swallow nervously, forcing yourself not to look away from his eyes.

"Sy?"

"Hm?"

"Can... Can I kiss you?"

His eyes open just a bit wider, brows raising imperceptibly. He glances at your own lips. "You don't need to ask, sweetheart."

He waits for you to move, like always. Even if you backed out now, he wouldn't complain. He wouldn't even frown. He'd smile, say something sweet, and move on. That silent reassurance is the catalyst that convinces you to follow through.

You shift on the bed, leaning closer. You experimentally draw his lower lip down. They part with a slight smirk. But it's not condescending. It's excited.

So close, you can feel his breath against your face. His eyes are almost fully closed, heavily lidded as he watches your approach. At the lightest ghosting of your lips, he inhales sharply, waiting. Trying not to scare you away.

Finally, you kiss him.

It's so light at first. So delicate.

You kiss him again. He tastes like Gin Fizz and pomegranate. He tastes so sweet.

He sighs into your mouth, following the languid pace you've set. You trace your fingers along the underside of his jaw, from his chin up to his ear. You can feel the low sound of his enjoyment rumble against your fingertips.

And just like that, it becomes too much.

You don't want to pull away. You don't want to stop feeling his lips caressing over yours, sucking so gently on your lower lip to graze it with his teeth. It feels like heaven - tastes like heaven. You're loath to be without it so soon after you've just been introduced to how wonderful it can be.

But your body is screaming. It itches, stings, like poison ivy, tainting every inch of skin that's touched him. You try to draw it out, push through the aversion to have this one little moment with him, licking the seam of his lips, which he does not hesitate to part just for you.

Eventually, you just can't.

You pull away too abruptly, too quickly drawing your hand away from his soft skin and scooting back to your side of the bed. His eyes shoot open immediately, a crease forming between his brows in concern.

"I'm sorry," you sputter out. "I'm sorry- I didn't-"

"Calm down, sweetie. You don't need to apologize."

You grip at the smooth silk blanket, as though it will cool the fire rampaging down your fingers into your arms. You pull it up to your face to press it into your eyes, hiding your face as you fight your frustration. "I hate being like this, Sy! God, I can't even kiss my boyfriend for two seconds without wanting to rip my skin off!"

You want to cry. You want to scream! You want to run away, soak in a bath of boiling water, be sedated - anything! Anything that could take the feeling away and steal you from the embarrassment consuming you.

Your first kiss with Sylus - and it ends like this.

"Thank you."

You pull the blanket from your eyes to look at him. "What?"

He smiles. "Thank you," he repeats again, just as simply as the first time, like it makes all the sense in the world to be thanking you after you ripped yourself away from him.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"For suffering."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko 

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Idk if this has been asked before but is CT:OS a standalone game or will there be sequels?

Haha. It absolutely depends on whether I can continue writing interactive fiction for the next 2 years, 4 years, or way more. Finances and whether I end up writing full-time somehow are a big factor, as is interest/burn out :)

If I've only got another 2 years in me, likely CT:OS is a stand-alone game.

If I've got 4 years, probably substantial DLC content using some of the ideas in PT:OS (below) but I've got so many other games/plots I want to try my hand at.

If I've got way more years in me... definitely a CT:OS sequel (or two, to be exact). TLDR above the cut, long ramble below the cut.

Pro Tennis: Origin Story

Where MC is 4 or so years out of college, has turned pro, and has risen slowly, painstakingly through the challenger tour ranks, and is now trying to break into the Top 50. At their age, it's probably a make-it or break-it period, as if they don't succeed then, they'll probably never succeed.

While CT:OS is about found family and coming of age and pursuing one's dreams, which I love, I'd want PT:OS to be about losing faith in one's dreams or one's talent, wondering if their sacrifices are worth it, wondering if one's actually good enough (or crazy enough), building a family of people who are firmly in your player's box (who has faith in you even when you don't have faith in yourself.)

More about PT:OS

Choose what happened to their relationships after college and after the first couple of years on tour (I love writing exes: e.g. broke up in college or breaking up fresh out of college cause the tennis road-life/ambition etc. killed the relationship)

Additional stats to balance like money/sponsorships/media presence/fame, and just... normal adult struggles like cooking for yourself, doing your own laundry, booking your hotel rooms, making ends meet (see elaboration below)

I want to write a story about being in a long dark tunnel, wondering if one should keep pushing, keep grinding, keep sacrificing their life and youth and sanity and relationships for this insane dream of being a tennis player

I'd probably keep the original cast of ROs, but introduce maybe 2 more? Perhaps a celebrity e.g. actor/musician (we all know how those love to flock around tennis players, but only famous ones), and maybe one's coach for spiciness?

As someone whose favourite part of Challengers was not, in fact, Zendaya's hotness (gasp, blasphemy) and instead, the scene where Patrick Zweig's character is struggling to find a hotel room for the night & starving & desperate for calories, I really want to make a game where the player not only has to deal with playing tennis, but also all the other practical life bits that need to align in order for a Top 200 or Top 100 player to become a Top 50 player.

Like yes, there's the Nadals and the Williams sisters and even the Nishikoris (who never quite lived up to their potential) but what of the players whose names you've never even heard of?

I'm interested in class (how only rich people get to tough it out / stick it out for years without significant sponsorships) and also race/gender/sexuality and how that coalesces with finances and media presence etc.. and also how mediocre players scrounge together a team to support them, plus of course the emotional toll of always being on the road (and always being exhausted) without ever seeing much of a pay-off until they crack some invisible threshold of 'greatness'.

Finally, the trilogy would probably be rounded out with a final game.

Third game (no idea what the name would be)

MC is older, maybe 30? And has suffered some career-ending event (injury, horrific tailspin drop-off) after winning a grand slam, perhaps seeking one final shot at proving to the world that they do have what it takes to be a champion, a legend to be remembered as someone who isn't just a one-slam pony.

Themes explored would be:

Age (when is it too late to hang up one's boots?) and still feeling like you've got what it takes even though the world's telling you you're past your prime, the limits of physicality

Trying to rebuild something that has been broken, when everyone's telling you that it'll never be fixed

Leaving a legacy, fame, self-worth (figuring out what to do when one is stripped of something that has been a guiding star)

Maybe even addiction?

<This would be the game that would be most heavily inspired by Carrie Soto>

If you read all of that, wow, I'm impressed, and yep, that's what I'd foresee for CT:OS. A trilogy, if I've got it in me.

RO speculations:

Tobin could even become one's physical trainer or nutritionist/physiotherapist, though maybe that's a bit of a stretch.

Sam could become world's most biased sports podcaster/journalist

Rayyan continues as MC's rival/(possible lover)

G is ... still adamantly Not Part of the Tennis World even though they attend every game?

What do you guys think?