#i’m sure he’d be odd about heart & mind too i just think about them way less Sorry .

[peachphernalia]

psssst just so you know. there is a known thing where you can simultaneously deeply desire relationships and connections AND be scared of it/avoid it. they call it disorganized attachment. relatedly i am putting your whole interp under a microscope in hopes that staring at him real hard will make him known to me as he keeps asking if he can leave yet BUT ANYWAYS....

ouwww upon some research that Does sound quite like him …..

i do think it makes sense also because it’s not only representative of his relationship with soul it is also pretty congruent to how i think he interacts with the love interest there areeee . parallels there . his relationship to the two of them is definitely very different he’s odd about them in very different ways but similarity absolutely lies in the simultaneous [oh i want this Bad] & [oh i am Scared] he gets with both of them . to me to me !!! so that is two supporting data points .

hes like a small critter or perhaps a bug of some kind he should really go back to his natural habitat . i trust him in the hands of the People just please treat him nicely maybe give him a treat to make up for the microscope light shining in his eyes ..,<3

[pucksandpower]

Perfect Fit

Day 5 → Size Difference 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

“You sure she doesn’t snap in half when you’re together?” Lando’s voice rings out over the steady hum of the paddock, casual, like he’s asking about the weather.

Oscar’s head jerks up, his eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

“You know …” Lando gestures vaguely with his hand, as if the meaning will somehow fill the air between them. “You and her. She’s, like, tiny. Can’t imagine it’s easy for you.”

Oscar frowns, confused for a second before the meaning of Lando’s words sinks in. Lando is grinning like he’s delivered the world’s best punchline, but something twists in Oscar’s chest. The words linger. Too long.

“Mate, seriously?” Oscar scoffs, trying to laugh it off, but there’s an odd tension in his voice. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

Lando shrugs, all casual, like he hasn’t just dropped a grenade between them. “Just making conversation. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Oscar doesn’t respond, choosing instead to shove Lando lightly in the shoulder, pushing past him. His heart beats a little too fast, and he finds himself suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of Lando’s comment.

He tries to shake it off, but the thought is like an itch at the back of his mind, one he can’t quite reach to scratch. Size. How could he have never noticed it before? Of course, he knew you were smaller — he had to lean down to kiss you, had to watch his step to not bowl you over in tight spaces. But he’d never really thought about it. Not like that.

Now, though … now he can’t seem to stop thinking about it.

Later that evening, he’s at your apartment. You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through some magazine, while he stands in the kitchen, mindlessly sipping from a water bottle. His eyes keep drifting over to you, studying the way you’re curled up. Small, Lando’s words repeat in his head. So much smaller.

You glance up and catch him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly. You squint, unconvinced.

“Oscar,” you say, drawing out his name like you’re prying for a confession. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he repeats, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.

You set the magazine down, leaning back against the cushions. “You’re staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

Oscar clears his throat, still not moving from his spot by the counter. “It’s not — I mean, Lando said something stupid earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lando always says stupid things.”

He chuckles, but the sound is half-hearted. “Yeah, but this was, like, extra stupid.”

“What’d he say?”

Oscar hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s dumb, really.”

“Now you have to tell me,” you say, tilting your head, that teasing smile starting to curl at your lips. You always get that look when you know he’s holding something back, and he knows you won’t let it go until he spills.

He sighs, finally pushing away from the counter and walking over to sit beside you on the couch. “It’s just … he made some joke about, uh … about our size difference.”

Your brows furrow. “What about it?”

Oscar pauses, trying to find the right words. “He basically said … I don’t know. That it must be … hard. You know, because you’re, uh, smaller than me.”

Your lips press together, a faint blush creeping up your neck as the meaning hits. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Oscar lets out a breath, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “I didn’t think much of it at first, but now I can’t stop … noticing it.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the kind that feels heavier than usual.

You swallow, shifting a little on the couch to face him. “Is it weird for you?” You ask quietly. “Our size difference?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No — no, it’s not weird. It’s not like that. I’ve just … I never really thought about it before. And now it’s in my head.”

“So it’s in your head that I’m small?” You ask, a teasing edge to your voice, though there’s a hint of nervousness underneath it.

He laughs softly. “It’s not just that you’re small. It’s … everything. Like, I never thought about how I have to be careful with you. When I hold you, or when we’re … close.”

You tilt your head, curious. “You don’t think about it when we’re close?”

“I mean, I think about it,” he admits, his voice dropping. “But not in a bad way. I just-” He falters, searching for the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his honesty, the vulnerability that’s starting to seep through the cracks. You reach out, placing a hand on his knee. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Oscar.”

“I know that,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “But I guess … sometimes I just worry that I might. Without meaning to.”

The air feels thick between you, charged with something unsaid. You chew on your bottom lip, considering his words, the way he’s looking at you now — like he’s seeing you in a new light, or maybe just realizing something that’s been there all along.

“I don’t mind that we’re different sizes,” you say quietly, and your voice is sincere, even if there’s an underlying nervousness. “I actually … I like it.”

Oscar’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, your hand still resting on his knee. “I like that you’re taller, and that you can hold me, and that I feel … safe with you.”

Something shifts in Oscar’s expression. It’s subtle, but you see the way his shoulders relax, the tension that’s been building all evening starting to fade away. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You feel safe with me?”

“Of course I do,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re … I don’t know. You’re so careful with me. I can feel it when we’re together.”

Oscar’s hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “I just … I don’t want to screw this up,” he admits, his voice raw. “I care about you too much to mess this up.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. “You’re not messing anything up, Oscar. You’re being … you.”

He leans in closer, his forehead almost resting against yours. “I don’t want to be weird about this,” he says softly. “But after Lando’s stupid comment, it’s like … it’s stuck in my head. And now I’m overthinking everything.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re overthinking it because Lando’s an idiot.”

Oscar laughs too, the sound breaking the tension a little. “Yeah, he really is.”

You shift a little closer to him, your knees brushing against his. “You don’t need to worry about our size difference,” you say gently. “I don’t.”

He nods, though there’s still a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “It’s just … I’ve never been with someone who’s, like … so much smaller than me. I don’t want to … I don’t know, hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you assure him, your voice steady. “I trust you, Oscar. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t.”

Oscar’s eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to find some reassurance in your words, something to silence the doubts that Lando’s careless joke planted in his mind. Slowly, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away — the worries, the overthinking, the stupid comments.

It’s just the two of you, and in that kiss, there’s no size difference, no hesitation. Just you and him, connected in a way that feels effortless.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath, warm and steady. “You’re sure?” He whispers, his voice laced with vulnerability.

You smile, your hand finding his. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Oscar lets out a breath, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

The tension between you melts away, replaced by a quiet understanding, a mutual trust that wasn’t spoken but was felt in every word, every touch. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, as if to prove to himself that he can hold you without worry.

And for the first time since Lando’s stupid joke, Oscar doesn’t think about the size difference. He just thinks about you, and how perfectly you fit in his arms.

***

As you and Oscar walk through the doors of your hotel suite, the adrenaline from the day still buzzes between you both. The aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix win feels almost surreal, hanging in the air between his excited glances and your proud smiles.

Oscar drops his race gear bag on the floor, exhaling loudly as he runs a hand through his messy hair. “God, I still can’t believe it. I actually won.”

You grin, closing the door behind you. “I told you, didn’t I? You’ve been ready for this. You’ve always been ready.”

He turns toward you, his face lighting up in a way that makes your heart skip. He looks different tonight — his usual quiet confidence magnified by the thrill of victory. There’s a hunger in his gaze, something deeper than just excitement for the race.

“It feels … different now,” he admits, stepping closer. “Like, I knew I could win, but doing it? Crossing that line first? Hearing the crowd?” He trails off, his eyes locking on yours, and for a moment, everything else in the world disappears.

You step closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “You were incredible out there.”

Oscar’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. His voice drops lower, more intimate. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the race, I just wanted to get back here. With you.”

You bite your lip, the tension between you sparking to life. There’s something in the air tonight, something that feels inevitable. The closeness, the energy — it’s all leading somewhere.

Oscar’s lips hover just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I need you,” he whispers, the rawness of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your response is immediate, instinctual. “Then take me.”

His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and heated, and suddenly, all the restraint he’s ever shown around you evaporates. His hands are everywhere — on your waist, in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t stand the space between you. You’re breathless as he backs you up toward the bed, his kisses growing more fervent, more desperate.

When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, Oscar pulls away just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something deeper than you’ve seen before. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice thick with both desire and hesitation. “I don’t want to rush this.”

You’re already reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The sight of his bare chest, muscles taut and glistening under the dim hotel lights, makes your stomach flip. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but tonight it feels different. He’s yours tonight.

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing over your hips, lifting your shirt just enough to slide his hands underneath.

You shiver at the contact, leaning into him as he slowly works your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. His hands linger on your skin, tracing patterns that leave your skin tingling.

As his fingers move to unbutton your jeans, Oscar hesitates for a second. “I don’t want to … hurt you,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

You shake your head, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. “You won’t. I trust you.”

That seems to be all the encouragement he needs. Oscar quickly strips you of your jeans, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, his gaze fixed on you like you’re the most important thing in the world. And then, for a moment, he pauses.

His eyes drop lower, and when he sees you in nothing but your underwear, something primal flashes across his face. You can see the shift in him — the boyish uncertainty replaced by something darker, more insistent.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. His hands tremble slightly as he runs them over your hips, then slowly slides your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare, exposed for him, seems to steal his breath.

You reach out, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Oscar quickly complies, undoing his belt and pushing his jeans down. But when he finally kicks them off, and his boxers follow, you feel your breath catch in your throat. He’s … big. Much bigger than you expected. The sight of him has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding through you.

His size suddenly makes Lando’s stupid joke replay in your head, but instead of fear, you feel a strange sense of anticipation building inside you. The sight of him, hard and ready, only makes you want him more.

But Oscar hesitates, his eyes darting between you and himself, concern flickering in his expression. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, his voice more serious now. “You’re so … small.”

Your lips part, a flush creeping up your neck. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the truth slips out before you can stop it. “I can take it,” you whisper, your voice shaking with need. “I want it.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he seems at a loss for words. His hands shake slightly as they slide up your thighs, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs. He takes his time, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly, his eyes locked on yours as he eases a finger inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing for a moment before you relax into his touch. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “Please, Oscar. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He adds another finger, his movements slow and steady as he works you open, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe beneath him. Your body arches off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you try to hold on to the edge of your sanity.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his brows furrowing in concentration. “I need to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you breathe, though your voice is shaky with both nerves and desire.

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he continues to stretch you with his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, his voice a mix of concern and restraint.

You bite your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. “I know. But I want you, Oscar. I want all of you.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he pauses, as if weighing the gravity of what’s about to happen. But then he nods, his eyes locking on yours as he finally positions himself between your legs. His hands grip your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, and then, slowly — agonizingly slowly — he begins to push inside you. The stretch is immediate, and your body tenses as you feel the overwhelming pressure of him filling you. It’s more than you expected — more than you’ve ever felt before. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s too much.

Oscar freezes, his eyes wide with concern. “Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head quickly, though your breath is shaky. “It’s just … a lot. But I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He bites his lip, clearly unsure, but he keeps going, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. The sensation is intense — painful at first, but as your body adjusts, the pain quickly morphs into something else. Something deeper. Something euphoric.

Oscar is still, hovering above you, his chest heaving as he struggles to keep himself in check. “God, you’re … you’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I can feel … I can see it …”

You look down, and your breath catches in your throat. You can see the outline of him, pressing against your lower stomach, and the sight is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Oscar’s eyes are glued to the sight as well, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Holy … I can see myself inside you,” he breathes, his voice thick with awe. “I’m not hurting you?”

You shake your head, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and disbelief. “No. It feels … it feels incredible.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes darkening as he slowly pulls back, only to push into you again, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and controlled at first, but growing more urgent as the pleasure builds between you.

Oscar’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes never leaving the sight of himself inside you. “You’re so … perfect,” he groans, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His movements grow more desperate, the tension between you building to an almost unbearable intensity. Your body is on fire, every nerve alight as he fills you completely. You can feel him so deep, every inch of him stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced before.

And then, just as the pressure becomes too much, you tip over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around him, muscles tightening and pulsing in rhythmic waves. The pleasure is blinding, sharp, your breath hitching as you cry out his name. You’ve never felt anything like it, the intensity of the release leaving you shaking beneath him, your legs trembling as you clutch at his shoulders.

The sudden tightening of your body around him pulls a deep groan from Oscar’s throat, and you feel him lose control. His thrusts falter, becoming erratic as he buries himself inside you one last time. His jaw clenches, his eyes squeezed shut as his own orgasm rips through him. His release is overwhelming — hot and thick, spilling into you with an intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Oscar collapses against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he gasps for air. You can feel him still twitching inside you, the last remnants of his orgasm making him shudder against your body. He’s still buried deep, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you so completely it almost feels unreal.

You’re both silent for a moment, just breathing together, the weight of what just happened settling between you. Then, slowly, Oscar lifts his head, his eyes hazy and dazed as he looks down at you.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his voice rough, concern flickering in his eyes even as he struggles to catch his breath.

You nod, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “I’m more than okay.”

His gaze softens, and his hand moves down to your stomach, where you can feel an odd fullness, a strange weight that wasn’t there before. His palm rests over your belly, and when you both look down, you see it — the way your stomach has a slight bulge, rounded out from how much he’s filled you.

Oscar’s eyes widen, his hand pressing down gently as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “I … did I do that?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bite your lip, heat flooding your cheeks as you nod. “I think so.”

A low groan escapes him, his eyes glued to the sight of your swollen belly. “Jesus … that’s … fuck, that’s so hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, his hand rubbing slow, gentle circles over the small bump.

His obsession with it sends a new wave of heat through you. The feeling of being so full, so utterly claimed by him, is intoxicating. You reach down, covering his hand with yours, pressing it harder against your belly. “You like it?” You ask, teasingly, though you already know the answer.

Oscar’s eyes flash up to yours, dark and filled with something primal. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything like this. I can’t … I can’t stop looking at it.”

He keeps rubbing your belly, his fingers tracing over the slight rise, his gaze fixed on the way your body holds all of him. You shiver beneath his touch, the sensation of his hand against your skin sending jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel him starting to soften inside you, but there’s still a delicious fullness that leaves you squirming, your body craving more despite how completely wrecked you feel.

Oscar seems to notice, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand trails lower, his fingers brushing against your sensitive clit. You gasp, your body jerking in response, and he smiles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You’re still sensitive,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your bundle of nerves with gentle pressure. “I can feel it.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continues to tease you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Oscar …” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I don’t think I can …”

But you can. The tension in your body builds again so quickly, it’s almost dizzying. His touch is relentless, his thumb rubbing slow, firm circles that drive you insane. The combination of the fullness in your belly and the stimulation at your core is overwhelming, your body teetering on the edge of another orgasm before you can even process it.

“I can feel how tight you still are,” Oscar whispers, his voice husky as he watches you squirm beneath him. “God, you’re so perfect.”

His words, his touch, the sight of him above you — it’s all too much. Your body arches off the bed, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you fall over the edge again, your second orgasm hitting you harder than the first. The pleasure is intense, bordering on painful as your muscles contract around him, your body shaking with the force of it.

Oscar groans, his hand still rubbing slow circles over your belly as he watches you come undone beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You gasp for air, your body trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subside, leaving you feeling utterly spent. Oscar finally stops his teasing, his hand still resting on your belly as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, his voice gentle, almost tender.

You nod, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Yeah … more than okay.”

He chuckles softly, shifting his weight to lie beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. His hand remains on your belly, though, still fascinated by the slight swell he’s caused.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “I’m the lucky one,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection for him.

For a while, you both just lie there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of what just happened settling in. There’s no rush, no urgency — just the quiet intimacy of being together after something so intense.

Oscar’s hand continues to rub slow, soothing circles over your belly, and you feel yourself slowly drifting toward sleep, your body completely relaxed and satisfied. Just before you drift off, you hear Oscar’s soft voice in your ear, filled with quiet wonder.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how perfectly you fit me.”

And in that moment, you know that nothing has ever felt more right.

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft rays of sunlight across the hotel room. You stir in the bed, blinking your eyes open, the haze of sleep still thick in your mind. As you stretch, your entire body reminds you of the events from the night before. Every muscle feels heavy, a delicious soreness radiating from deep within you. You smile to yourself, the memory of Oscar’s hands on your body, his whispers in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Your bladder protests, urging you out of bed, but as soon as you shift to swing your legs over the side of the bed, a sharp jolt of soreness runs up your thighs. You pause, blinking in confusion, then try again — more gingerly this time. Your legs are stiff, the muscles weak and uncooperative as you push yourself to stand.

You barely make it two steps before your legs give out beneath you.

The floor rushes up to meet you, and with a soft thud, you crumple into a heap on the carpet. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, and before you can process what’s happened, Oscar is jolting awake beside you.

“Shit — what was that?” He mumbles groggily, but the second he sees you on the floor, his eyes go wide, panic flashing across his face. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He’s out of bed in an instant, rushing to your side, his hands gripping your shoulders as he kneels next to you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, though your body feels like it’s been through a marathon. “I’m fine, I just …” You bite your lip, wincing as you try to shift. “I guess my legs don’t really work right now.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in concern, and he gently lifts you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you back to the bed like you weigh nothing. “What do you mean your legs don’t work?” His voice is tight, laced with worry, and he lays you down carefully, as if he’s afraid you’ll break.

You groan softly as you sink back into the mattress, your legs still trembling from the effort. “I’m just … really sore. Like, everywhere.”

Oscar’s face pales, and you can see the guilt washing over him in an instant. “Oh my God, I hurt you, didn’t I?” His voice is barely a whisper, his hands hovering over you as if he’s afraid to touch you again. “I knew I was too rough. I knew I was too big. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hey, no,” you interrupt, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “It’s not like that. I’m just sore from … you know.” You feel a flush creeping up your neck, but you manage a small smile. “It’s a good kind of sore.”

Oscar shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “No, no, this isn’t okay. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I should’ve been more careful.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it’s strained as you shift slightly in bed. “Oscar, I’m fine. Really. I feel amazing, actually. This is just … the aftermath.” You wiggle your toes experimentally, and while the soreness is still there, it’s more of a reminder of the pleasure you felt last night than actual pain.

Oscar isn’t convinced. He sits on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “You couldn’t even walk this morning because of me,” he mutters, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

The tenderness in his voice makes your heart ache, and you sit up slowly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Oscar, you didn’t hurt me,” you say softly. “You made me feel incredible. Yes, I’m sore, but it’s because of how good it was. Not because you did anything wrong.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I mean, you literally fell out of bed.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “Yeah, well … maybe that’s just proof of how well you did.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, but the worry still lingers. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You shake your head, your hand moving to rest on his thigh. “No. I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve never felt like that before, Oscar. You didn’t hurt me — you made me feel alive.”

His expression softens at your words, but you can still see the guilt etched in the lines of his face. He exhales slowly, his hand covering yours on his thigh. “I just … I don’t want to ever do something that makes you feel like you can’t even move the next day.”

“Well,” you say, biting your lip playfully, “if it’s the kind of thing that leaves me this sore, I think I could get used to it.” You wink at him, trying to lighten the mood, but Oscar’s eyes widen, and he groans.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

You laugh softly, wincing at the tightness in your hips as you shift again. “I mean, there are worse ways to be sore. Besides, this is kind of your fault. You can make it up to me.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in confusion. “How?”

You give him a mischievous look. “By doing it all over again and making sure I can never walk properly again.”

He blinks at you, momentarily stunned. “You’re joking, right?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I — but … you’re already sore.”

You lean back against the pillows, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. “Exactly. So you might as well make it count.”

For a second, he’s speechless. Then, his lips twitch, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re serious?”

You nod, biting your lip to hide your grin. “Very.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and you can see the tension start to melt away from his shoulders. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrug, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a high pain tolerance. Besides, I think I deserve a little reward after surviving last night, don’t you?”

Oscar’s smile fades slightly, and he looks at you with a mix of affection and disbelief. “You’re really okay?”

You nod, your hand squeezing his thigh again. “More than okay, Oscar. I’m serious — I want you again. Even if it leaves me sore for a week.”

His expression softens, and he leans down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grin up at him. “I try.”

Oscar’s hand trails down your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin as if testing how much you can handle. “I don’t want to push you too hard,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple.

“You’re not pushing me,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want this.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his hand moving lower, tracing over your stomach and down between your legs. The touch is featherlight, testing, but even that small contact sends a shiver through your body.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Oscar says, his voice low and serious, but you can already feel the heat building between you again, and the soreness fades into the background of your mind, overwhelmed by the need rising in you.

“I will,” you breathe, already arching into his touch.

Oscar’s lips find yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more urgent as the tension between you sparks back to life. His hand slides lower, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel yourself growing wet again, your body responding to him despite the lingering ache.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “You really want to do this again?”

You nod, breathless. “I need you.”

That’s all it takes for Oscar to give in. He shifts above you, his body pressing against yours as he positions himself between your legs. The weight of him is comforting, familiar, and despite the soreness, you crave the feeling of him filling you again.

Oscar moves slowly, carefully, but the stretch is just as intense as last night. You gasp as he pushes inside, your body still adjusting to the sheer size of him, but it’s not painful this time — just overwhelming in the best way.

“Oh my God,” Oscar groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he pushes deeper. “You’re still so tight.”

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he moves inside you, the pleasure building quickly despite the soreness in your muscles. The mix of discomfort and ecstasy is intoxicating, and soon, you’re lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, your mind blank except for the sensation of him filling you completely.

Oscar’s hands grip your hips, his movements growing more urgent as he finds his rhythm. You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to hurt you, but even with the restraint, the intensity of it all has you teetering on the edge again.

“You’re so perfect,” Oscar murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You shudder beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel yourself nearing the edge once again. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, your body arching into his as the pleasure coils tight inside you, threatening to snap.

Oscar groans in response, his pace picking up, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, until you're barely holding on. You can feel the intensity building between you, the friction, the connection driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tighter, his breath hot against your neck as he murmurs, “God, you feel so good. I could do this forever.”

The words send a thrill through you, and you grip him harder, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Oscar,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure inside you mounts, overwhelming, unstoppable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he drives into you again, deeper than before. “Come for me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. His words send you spiraling, your body clenching around him as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. You cry out, your legs trembling, your hands gripping him as tight as you can, pulling him closer as your entire body shakes with the force of your release.

Oscar groans as your body tightens around him, his control slipping as he watches you fall apart beneath him. His rhythm falters, then he pushes deep one last time, his release hitting with a shudder as he spills inside you. His breath is ragged, his body trembling as he holds himself over you, the weight of his body grounding you as the aftershocks of your orgasm pulse through you.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. Oscar collapses against you, his head resting on your chest as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, a soft, satisfied smile on your lips as the warmth of his body soothes your soreness.

After a long silence, he finally speaks, his voice soft and a little shaky. “You … okay?”

You laugh softly, your body feeling like it’s been thoroughly worked over, but in the best way possible. “Yeah,” you whisper, brushing his hair back. “More than okay.”

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes filled with affection but also a hint of lingering concern. “I didn’t hurt you?”

You shake your head, smiling up at him. “No, you didn’t hurt me. You were perfect.”

He relaxes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You hum in contentment, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all. “Just make sure I can walk by tomorrow, okay?”

Oscar chuckles, his hand trailing down to your hip as he pulls you close. “No promises.”

***

Oscar steps out of the car first, scanning the airstrip where McLaren’s private jet waits. His brow furrows slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. The morning sun is harsh, casting long shadows on the tarmac, but his focus is entirely on you. He turns back, opening the car door carefully, like he’s preparing for something delicate.

You wince as you try to swing your legs out of the car. The soreness from last night has reached a whole new level, and every movement feels like your muscles are made of lead. You’d tried standing when you first woke up, but it was a no-go. Now, as you attempt to shift out of the car, it’s confirmed: you really can’t walk.

Oscar leans down, his hands gently coming to rest on your hips. “Ready?” His voice is soft, a little sheepish, like he’s still not over the guilt from earlier.

“Do I have a choice?” You joke, though your body aches in a way that’s both painful and satisfying, a reminder of last night’s passion.

He gives you a small smile, his eyes soft as he reaches under your knees and lifts you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest as he straightens up.

“Okay, this is officially ridiculous,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder, half-embarrassed, half-amused.

Oscar chuckles, holding you close. “You’re the one who said you wanted to make sure you couldn’t walk properly again.”

You lift your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d take it so literally.”

He grins, but you can see the hint of worry still lingering in his eyes. “Too late now. Besides, I think I might enjoy this.”

“You enjoy having to carry me across an airstrip in front of your entire team?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light, though you know it’s about to get a lot more embarrassing once people start noticing.

Oscar shrugs, shifting you slightly in his arms as he starts walking toward the jet. “I enjoy taking care of you.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your earlier embarrassment fading. He’s so earnest, so gentle, even now, and it’s hard to feel anything but safe in his arms.

As you near the jet, you can already see the crew milling around, loading luggage and prepping for departure. And, of course, Lando is leaning casually against the stairs leading up to the plane, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as soon as he spots the two of you.

“Well, well, well,” Lando calls out, his voice full of teasing glee. “What do we have here? Oscar playing the hero?”

You groan softly, burying your face in Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please no,” you mutter under your breath.

Oscar doesn’t slow down as he approaches, though you can feel his body tense slightly. He’s protective, even if he’s trying to laugh it off. “Don’t start, Lando,” he warns, though there’s a playful edge to his voice.

But Lando’s never been one to back off, especially when there’s an opportunity to tease his teammate. He pushes off the stairs and stands directly in front of you two, hands on his hips. “What, did she trip or something? Or is this …” He pauses dramatically, raising an eyebrow. “Is this because of Sunday night?”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks immediately. You’ve had your fair share of teasing from Lando before, but this — this is next-level mortifying. Oscar adjusts his hold on you slightly, and you can feel the subtle tightening of his grip, like he’s shielding you from whatever’s coming.

“Lando,” Oscar says, his tone warning, but not harsh. “Seriously.”

But Lando’s not done. His eyes dart between you and Oscar, and his grin widens. “Wait — wait. Hold on. Is she not able to walk?”

You don’t say anything, but your silence must be enough because Lando’s grin fades, replaced by a look of genuine shock. “Oh my God. You’re actually serious.”

Oscar’s jaw tightens, and he shifts you in his arms again, turning slightly like he’s ready to move past Lando and end this conversation. But Lando steps closer, his playful demeanor slipping into something more serious as he realizes the situation is … real.

“Mate,” Lando says, his voice lower now, almost incredulous. “Did you … I mean, you didn’t-”

“No,” Oscar cuts him off quickly, his voice firm but not defensive. “I didn’t hurt her.”

You peek out from Oscar’s shoulder, meeting Lando’s wide-eyed gaze. “I’m fine,” you add, trying to inject some normalcy back into the situation. “It’s just … you know.”

Lando’s brows shoot up. “I really don’t know.”

You laugh softly despite yourself. “Well, I’m not hurt. Just … sore.”

Lando’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s trying to find the right words, but for once, he’s speechless. He glances between you and Oscar, and then shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“I mean, I’ve heard of being ‘swept off your feet,’ but this …” Lando trails off, his eyes flicking down to your legs, which you’re certain look completely useless at this point. “This is next level.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You done?”

Lando lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just saying — next time, maybe leave her able to walk? Just a suggestion.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please make him stop.”

Oscar chuckles, squeezing you gently. “Lando, I swear, if you don’t move, I’m going to drop her on you.”

Lando steps aside, holding his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. But seriously,” he adds, glancing at you with a smirk. “You two should probably invest in some crutches.”

You shoot him a withering look, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re not funny.”

“I disagree,” Lando grins. “I’m hilarious.”

Oscar shakes his head, moving past Lando and toward the stairs. As he climbs up, still carrying you effortlessly, you whisper, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Probably not.”

By the time he settles you down in one of the plush seats on the jet, the soreness in your legs has turned into a dull throb. You sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh, stretching out as much as you can without wincing. Oscar sits beside you, his hand immediately resting on your thigh, a silent check-in.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, his brow still slightly furrowed.

“I promise,” you say, reaching for his hand. “I mean, yes, I probably won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, but it’s worth it.”

Oscar gives you a lopsided smile, but the concern doesn’t fully leave his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d actually-”

You cut him off, squeezing his hand. “Oscar, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who asked for it.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Still.”

You lean closer, brushing your lips against his. “It was perfect,” you murmur softly. “You’re perfect.”

He exhales, some of the tension finally leaving his body as he leans into your kiss. “If you say so.”

“I do,” you whisper against his lips, then lean back with a grin. “Now, how are you going to carry me once we land?”

Oscar laughs, a sound that’s light and warm. “I’ll figure it out.”

From across the aisle, Lando chimes in, “Just get a wheelchair. Might be worth the investment if this is going to be a common occurrence.”

You throw a pillow at him. “Shut up, Lando.”

But deep down, despite the teasing and the soreness, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

[expia]

creepy boyfie yuta!!! [ I love yandere yuta ☺️☝️]

Creepy boyfie!yuta who makes you stay on ft with him all day if you can’t see each other

Creepy boyfie!yuta who “jokingly” talks about locking you in his basement if you ever leave

Creepy boyfie!yuta who put up secret cameras in your apartment just so he can keep an eye on you

Creepy boyfie!yuta who texts you to ask wyd knowing damn well he’s stalking the cameras

Creepy boyfie!yuta who is more interested in watching you instead of the movie on date nights

Creepy boyfie!yuta who you don’t even think is creepy yes insecure and maybe unhealthily obsessed but not creepy

It was a quiet, cozy evening in Y/N’s apartment, the kind where the world outside could’ve been a million miles away. The lights were dimmed, and the only source of illumination came from the TV screen, flickering with the opening credits of a rom-com Y/N had been dying to watch.

Y/N was nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, with a bowl of popcorn resting on her lap. Yuta sat beside her, casually draped in a hoodie and sweatpants, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind her, just a little too close—though Y/N didn’t mind. She loved it when he was close.

“So, this movie’s supposed to be really cute, right?” Y/N said with a smile, glancing over at Yuta, who was already watching her, his gaze soft but unwavering.

“Yeah, but not as cute as you,” Yuta replied smoothly, nudging her lightly. His voice had that tender, teasing quality she adored.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re so corny.”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. “But you love it.”

The movie began, and the two of them settled in, comfortable in the silence, only interrupted by the occasional giggle from Y/N or a quiet comment from Yuta about the movie's predictability.

But, in the middle of a particularly dramatic scene, Yuta suddenly stood up.

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the bathroom,” he said, stretching a little too dramatically, as if to draw attention to his exit.

Y/N didn’t think anything of it. She was far too engrossed in the movie’s over-the-top romance to notice anything odd. “Okay, hurry back. I’m about to see how this one ends!”

Yuta smiled softly, his eyes narrowing for a split second as he turned away. He had something else in mind.

As he stepped out of the living room, he made his way down the hall to where his phone was charging on the nightstand. His fingers hovered for a moment before unlocking the screen.

There it was.

The hidden camera feed he had set up earlier that week—four small, discreet lenses placed around her apartment, capturing every corner of the living room. He never let her know about them, of course. She’d never suspect something so intrusive, especially when he’d always been so sweet and loving.

Yuta’s heart rate picked up as he clicked through the various feeds on his phone. On the screen, he could see her sitting on the couch, staring intently at the TV, popcorn resting idly in her lap, her expression one of pure joy as she watched the movie.

Yuta couldn’t help but grin. He liked watching her like this. He liked seeing how relaxed and content she was, how at peace.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—it was more that he simply wanted to always be part of her world. Even when he wasn’t physically there beside her, he wanted to be sure she was happy, safe, and… all his.

With a soft sigh, he leaned back against the wall, watching the feed for a little longer, his eyes flicking from one camera to the other. Her every movement, every shift of her posture, was like a personal performance meant just for him. He adored it.

He let the feeling of possessive affection settle inside him, but not in a way that felt bad—just in the way lovers might feel when they can’t imagine life without the other. In his mind, they were already living their perfect future, and this was just a small part of it.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five

“So Steve, I know you said that you don’t think you need anyone...” Eddie sighs, “do you think that implies that I think that what he thinks is wrong?”

“I think it implies you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Eddie doesn’t even have the energy to glare at Dustin, it’s much easier to just pretend he hasn’t spoken, “okay, Steve-”

“Yeap, you’re really strong on establishing you know the guys name, which is like, a solid point in your favor.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says to the ceiling, neck at an odd angle where he’s flopped his head back over the arm of the couch, “so, Steve, I know you said you don’t need anyone, and you are totally right-”

“You’re a strong independent Omega who don’t need no Alpha!”

“So help me Henderson I will throw you out,” Eddie waits, but Dustin is finally silent on the matter, “Steve. I totally respect the fact that you are absolutely fine handling everything alone, and if you’re...happy with us, being friends, then I’m happy with that too. I did wonder, though, if you’d like to go on a date. With me. Maybe?” Eddie sighs, flopping his arms over his face, “I’m so bad at this. This is going to go so wrong and he’s going to hate me and never want to see me again and-”

“Eddie...has the Omega broken your brain? What the fuck is wrong with you man-”

“I don’t know! I don’t...I’ve literally never felt this way before, not about anyone. And Jamie, man, I know he’s not my pup, okay, Steve and I aren't dating, he’s literally my friends pup, that’s it but...I swear I would die for that kid, no question.”

“Okay...so just...ask him out? Steve I mean, not Jamie-”

Eddie huffs, “I don’t...I’m pretty sure I can’t. The more I think about it the more it feels...like Steve’s had a pretty bad run of Alphas, it sounds like, and I just don’t think he’d be interested. And he’s just literally had a pup, like Jamie is only just a month old, who am I to add to that, you know? Steve’s got enough to think about.”

“So...don’t ask him out?”

Eddie flops over onto his side, curling up so he can smush his face into the cushions, “but I really want to. I think it’s selfish though. I’m being selfish. I should just...be a good friend. Keep being a good friend.”

“And pine to death?”

“I mean. Seems like a reasonable way out.”

“Dude I do not know what to say to you,” the timer on the oven starts to buzz, “but at least you’re going to feed me, right?”

Eddie sighs, dragging himself out of the near suffocating safety of the gap in the couch cushions. He opens his message thread with Steve, scrolling back through the shared memes and screenshots and pictures. He reads little tidbits of conversation while he pulls out bowls and plates. The three dots appear, Eddie’s heart leaps a little because Steve is, right there. Right next door, with his phone in his hand, typing to Eddie.

‘I’d love some. I’ve made a banana cream pie if you want to take it back for your games night.’

Eddie sends back a shocked emoji, ‘I can’t take an entire pie.’

‘You won’t, my slice will be gone.’

Eddie smiles and slips his phone into his pocket. He slices two thick pieces of bread from the loaf he made this afternoon, wraps them, and then fills a bowl with casserole. Eddie’s pretty sure this bowl is Steve’s anyway; so many of their plates and bowls have been migrating back and forth it’s hard to tell any more, between Eddie’s dinners and Steve’s desserts.

He likes to bake something extra special for games nights though, he always says you can’t make just one cookie, or one slice of pie. He likes to make sweet things when he knows there will be people to give it to, otherwise, “I’ll just eat the whole thing Eddie!”

Eddie doesn’t see a problem with eating the whole thing, but he slips on his adventure crocs and heads out into the hall. Dustin doesn’t even tease too badly any more, even though Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s threatened to withhold Steve’s desserts.

Eddie knocks with the hand holding the bread, letting himself in when Steve calls, “it’s open!”

“Hey Steve, hey Jamie,” he sets Steve’s dinner on the little table, next to the juice and cutlery Steve’s already set out for himself.

“What do you have planned for them tonight?” Steve brings out a pie on a plate, a slice already gone, just like he said. It has real neat swirls of cream on top; it looks professional to Eddie, like you’d buy in a store.

“Destruction. Misery. Suffering. The usual.”

Steve hums, “uh hu. What color salad did you decide on in the end?”

Eddie sighs, “you say it Slaad. And I don’t know, what do you think?”

“I actually quite liked the idea for the dog shark thing, it was cute,” Steve hands over the pie, going on tip toes to kiss Eddie on the cheek as he hands it over.

“One home brew Bulette, coming right up,” Eddie replies absently. He’s pretty sure he’s gone at least a little pink, and Steve’s scent is fresh and bright in his nose for a moment, “I’d better…” Eddie gestures lamely with the pie, “you know.”

“Have fun!” Steve calls as Eddie lets himself out, “don’t go too hard on them!”

Eddie’s doing his best not too stare, he really is.

He has one foot on the stroller, rolling it gently back and forward. He has his guitar resting on the other knee, he strums, singing quietly to Jamie, “I'd rather be a forest than a street, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would.” Jamie burbles at him, waving his arms a little and making happy pup noises.

On the court, Steve laughs, and Eddie fails, and he looks. Steve’s wearing a tank top and those obscenely short shorts. Him and Chrissy are bouncing the ball at each other, catching it, doing a squat, a little jump, and bouncing it back. They’ve done all sorts of stuff like this, sweaty jock games. Steve’s short shorts riding up even further at the slightest provocation.

Jamie makes a noise, drawing Eddie’s attention back, “I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would,” Eddie sings, soft and slow.

Steve and Chrissy come over eventually, Steve lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his sweaty face, fully showing Eddie his tummy in all it’s glory. It’s thick, but firm, decorated by a handful of stretch marks and a perfect dusting of happy trail, “thanks for keeping an eye.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, feeling kind of dumb but still managing to strum along on auto pilot.

Next to him, Chrissy snickers around her water bottle.

“Thank you, for watching Jamie,” Steve says to him more slowly, smirking, his sweaty hair flopping across his forehead.

“Right, right, sure, of course. Anytime. Pleasure. Really.”

Next to him, Chrissy huffs. Eddie pointedly ignores it.

The knocking is awful. It’s relentless. It’s obnoxious. It’s definitely Robin.

“I know you’re in there!”

Yeap. Yeap that’s definitely Robin. Eddie groans into the couch cushion before dragging himself up. She’s speaking before he has the door fully open, “this is getting old.”

“And what might that be-”

Robin puts on the most obnoxious voice Eddie thinks he’s ever heard, she clasps her hands together, holding them to her chest and she bats her lashes coquettishly at the ceiling, “oh Eddie’s cooking is just the best ever. Did you know he plays guitar! He says he’ll teach Jamie when he’s old enough! And he’s so smart, he’s got so many books in his apartment-”

“Okay.”

“Did you know he’s artistic! He paints his little dungeon game miniatures and they’re so good-”

“All right.”

“You should just see him with Jamie-”

“Robin.”

“And he’s such a good Alpha! He’s so good to his friends, he puts in so much work-”

“And we are done,” Eddie goes to shut the door. He can’t handle this. He knows Robin probably means well, in her own meddling way, but he just...can’t. This has to be Steve’s choice, right? Steve’s been pretty clear why he went it alone, and Robin is just...teasing him. It makes Eddie feel all warm and bubbly inside, knowing that Steve says these things about him, that Steve...likes him. But...Steve has a pup, and just because he says these things behind closed doors, it doesn’t mean Eddie has any right to know them.

No matter how it makes him feel.

“Wait wait wait...can’t you just, ask him out? End all of our suffering?”

Eddie sighs, “Steve has enough going on without me making it more complicated, okay? Steve can...he’s perfectly capable of telling me this himself.”

“No he isn’t. Because Steve would never ask you to take on another Alpha’s pup.”

“He’s not another Alpha’s pup, he’s Steve’s pup,” Eddie tells her reflexively.

“Uh hu,” she has her hands on her hips now, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie swallows thickly, and he can’t quite look at Robin, “what if...what if I loose him?”

“You won’t. You know you won’t.”

“But-”

“Me and Chrissy are taking Jamie for the night, did you know that? Giving Steve a night off, and we’re getting some practice in for when we’re ready to have our own, you know?”

“I...did not know that.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie stands for a second, not sure what to say, down the hall, Steve’s door opens.

“-and it’s in the changing bag.”

“I got it.”

“Don’t forget to heat the formula to-”

“Steve,” Chrissy sounds exasperated, “we’ve got it,” she has Jamie in his car seat.

“Plus,” Robin whispers to him conspiratorially, “he’s going to have a heat at some point, so we gotta be ready for that. You know, wouldn’t be fair to which ever Alpha ends up helping him out-”

“I know what you’re doing,” Eddie growls, watching Steve fuss over the pup.

“Is it working?”

“Go away.”

Robin shrugs, and Eddie watches as she goes to Chrissy, taking the bag so Chrissy is just left with the car seat, “it’s going to be fine, and you can call us any time.”

Eddie ends up watching Steve, as Steve watches his pup and his friends disappear at the end of the hall. His shoulder sag a little, and Eddie can't help but go to him.

“Hey.”

Steve sighs, “would it be weird if we followed them?”

“Maybe. I’ll drive though.”

Steve smiles up at him, and it looks kind of watery, “what if we break into their place and take him back?”

Eddie shrugs, “pretty sure we could just ask but, whatever makes you feel better, I guess.”

Steve sighs, “I sound crazy,” and a tear finally escapes, sliding down his cheek.

Eddie can’t help but scoop him up into a big hug, “I think you sound like the best dad in the world. I’ll get you one of those mugs. You know, for fathers day.”

Steve sighs, and sniffles, “thanks Eddie.”

“You want take out? I’ve primed you a miniature, if you still want to try your hand.”

“Can we watch a shit film too?”

“Oh fuck me I’d love to watch a shit film,” Eddie says vehemently into Steve’s hair.

Steve laughs against his chest.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to try painting his owlbear tonight; he picks forlornly at his duck rolls, “I’m sorry I’m not very good company.”

“It’s okay, I get it...I miss him too.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m being shit company?” Steve smiles for the first time this evening.

“Oh, yeah, the absolute worst.”

Steve phone pings and he practically dives for it, but then he melts, face going soft as he looks at the message, “Jamie’s asleep,” he shows Eddie the picture.

“Safe and sound,” Eddie reassures Steve for probably the fifteenth time this evening.

“I didn’t...I mean I knew I’d love my pup but...I didn’t know it would feel like this, you know? It feels crazy. And I mean...Jamie’s happy, and healthy, and that just makes absolutely everything feel...right? Does that make sense? Like...fulfilled.”

“I...yeah. I think I understand,” Eddie tells him quietly, because he feels like that about the both of them, as long as Steve, and by extension, Jamie, are both happy and healthy then...yeah. Yeah, the whole world feels like it’s an okay place to be.

“Eddie I-”

“Steve-”

They speak over each other, and end up laughing, leaning closer together on the couch. The remains of Steve’s half eaten dinner get moved to the safety of the coffee table. They’re close enough then that Eddie can see the dim light from the TV reflecting in Steve’s eyes.

“You go,” Eddie whispers to him.

Steve shakes his head, but takes Eddie’s hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles, Steve whispers back, “you first.”

“I...I really like having you in my life Steve. And I don’t want to...to fuck that up, by expecting more from you.”

“I...yeah. Same.”

“Same?” It comes out as a surprised laugh.

Steve’s laughing too now, “what do you want me to say I mean...you pretty much covered it.”

“I have spent ages agonizing over this and and and- all I get is- yeah. Same. I guess. I suppose.”

Steve is properly laughing now, “come here, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he pulls Eddie close, and manages to stop laughing long enough to kiss his cheek, “okay,” Steve takes a deep breath, “I’ve just had a pup, and both me and that pup care about you so very much, and I did not want to mess it up by expecting you to take that on, okay?”

“You’re not a chore Steve, neither of you are a chore.”

“I mean he was sick on me the other day and that kind of felt-”

Eddie cuts him off with a kiss. It’s soft, a gentle press of lips that Steve...sighs into. Relaxes into. Lets Eddie take both their weight. Steve’s hands find their way into Eddie’s hair as Eddie gently wets Steve’s lip, and Steve lets him in.

It feels like coming home.

[gay-dorito-dust]

haii! :33

can i request boothill and argenti (seperately) with a shy gn!reader who gets flustered easily? whether it would be through words, physical touch or stuff like that

thank youu!! ^_^

Jing yuan:

Smug bastard.

Acts like he wasn’t the reason you were flustered to the high heavens from brushing his hand across your waist.

‘Are you alright my dear?’ He’d say, faking innocence as he intentionally held your face in his hands, softly caressing your cheeks as he felt them gradually grow warmer with every stroke of his thumbs. ‘You’re feeling rather warm here, should I get you to a doctor?’ He adds with a knowing smile.

‘N-no. I’m fine.’ You’d say, unable to form actual thoughts as your mind was heavily focused on a plethora of things, from the way that his hands held your face as though it were porcelain, to the way he caresses your skin felt like kisses in their own right.

The acclaimed dozing general raised an eyebrow as his smile only grew more mischievous. ‘Are you sure? You’re really heating up my dear, I wouldn’t want you to faint on me now,’ he then leaned in close, chuckling upon hearing you gasp a the close proximity, whispering. ‘Unless that’s your intention.’

Jing Yuan thoroughly enjoyed being the reason you were flustered and found your reactions addictive, so much that he would start doing things where he got to see that reaction as much as possible.

Touching your hand

Brushing shoulders

Sitting really close to you/ ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you, etc.

However if you were to ever express that you wanted him to stop, he will as he understands that you might not want to be made to fluster all the time. He’s not a dickhead and respects you greatly for giving him the ability to start living life again.

Argenti:

This man speaks from the bottom of his heart, there’s not a single lie to be found in his words, and it was due to that undeniable truthfulness that left you more flustered then not.

‘I only speak the truth my beloved rose.’ He says softly as he held your hands in his own all the while maintaining eye contact, which didn’t help you in any way shape or form as you felt your face practically burst into flames and your heart going at a mile an hour the longer you stay in close proximity to him.

He smelt of roses and chivalry, which was odd as you didn’t think chivalry could have a smell, but with Arenti anything was seemingly possible.

‘You are the beauty that I’ve been seeking and now that I have you, I have no doubt that I will love you for eternity should it be allowed of me.’

Boom, you’re dead and on the floor as you stare up at the ceiling as Argenti was quick to move to kneel at your side, face full of concern as his face hovers over you all the while his hair acted as ruby red curtains, forcing you to solely focus on his extremely pretty face. He looked like an angel in that moment and you somehow still found it in you to get even more flustered upon gazing at his face.

He’s genuinely concerned about you whenever you got flustered, his heart and soul were just so pure that he wasn’t really clicking onto the fact that he was the reason you were constantly flustered.

‘My dear flower, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you somehow? Should I seek medical attention?’ - him.

‘No, I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes…or an hour.’ -you, flustered to the high heavens and embarrassment for making him worry.

Boothill:

Smug bastard 2.0

The moment you shown him how easily flustered you could get, it’s over for you as you’ve given Boothill ammunition to keep finding new ways to flustered you on the daily.

Your reactions were his drug and he’d gladly overdoes on them if he could but that might be going a bit too far, however he didn’t care because you being flustered from almost anything he did had become everything to him.

So he would nuzzle his cheek to yours.

Playfully nibbles on your earlobe, shoulder, neck, arms, lips and takes enjoyment in your squeals and attempts to get away from him, only to be pulled back in.

Kissing your lips constantly, even more so in public.

The teasing is never ending with Boothill.

He’s relentless, unyielding and extremely brutal in his teasings that you may as well be permanently flustered. However if you were to shyly give this gremlin a taste of his own medicine by boldly kissing his cheek, he’s suddenly silent and a little fluttered.

He just loves smothering you in love and will continue to do so as nothing else mattered to him in that moment more than you and the effects he had over you.

[cheqorb]

More Between Us.

You’ve always been just friends, but they can’t ignore how their heart races whenever you’re near.

FEAT. Isagi, Bachira

NOTES. probably my most tooth-rotting post yet! annnd I totally forgot I had this in my drafts Bring this duo back to me though pleasj

ISAGI is easygoing, and mild-mannered by nature (though perhaps his rivals disagree on that). It’s literally harder to not be friends with him. Your relationship was equally good, nothing particularly special and not abysmal. The type of friends who might talk on the way to class if you spot each other, but never go out of their way to do so either.

If asked, you wouldn’t even say best friends; he’s too busy with his teammates, and you have your own friend group.

See, Isagi enjoys thinking about stuff in a logical sense, using reason and evidence to support his ‘theory’. Both in real life and in football.

So before he even comes to the conclusion of a crush, firstly, there’s the small details he picks up about you.

Your eyes shift colour slightly if the sun hits them right. But, he reckons that happens with everyone’s eyes. Your eyes crinkle upwards when you smile, and maybe even dimples form on your cheeks as you do so. He likes seeing people smile, and yours is… in a way, cuter than anyone else’s? If he had to rank smiles, he’d put yours near the top. All hypothetical, obviously!

He’s always been observant, even as a kid, so Isagi figured he was just feeling a little more insightful as of late but it doesn’t stop there.

Suddenly, Isagi finds himself unconsciously lingering in places he knows you'll be. He tells himself it's just coincidence, but deep down, he has a feeling that he’s seeking you out more often.

Practicing with his team becomes a lot more strategic, with him making sure he's near your usual route home (not in a stalker way, at least, he hopes not), and just on time so that he can ‘bump into you’ and walk together.

And he lives in the complete opposite direction, so, while you don’t mind his presence, you find it a little odd.

Isagi begins to remember every little thing you mention, even the small stuff, like your favorite snack or the song you've been listening to on repeat. Next thing you know, he’s casually surprising you with them, acting like it’s no big deal but loves it when you get visibly excited about it.

He fumbles with his words a little more around you now, overthinking simple things that never used to bother him. It’s not like he’s shy (actually one of the best communicators out of everyone), he just doesn’t want to mess up or make you think he’s weird!

If he says something that could be interpreted as mildly creepy, he’s actually the first one to call it out and apologise over and over again. Beats himself up about it at home, even if you thought it was mildly funny that he knew what you were doing last week Tuesday at around 5:06PM…

When his teammates joke about him having a crush, he laughs it off, but there’s always a little pink in his cheeks that he hopes you don’t notice.

He'll start texting you first more often, just to share something funny or ask for your opinion on something trivial. It’s an excuse, really, just to have another reason to talk to you.

Also catches himself smiling whenever he sees a notification from you pop up on his phone, and his heart does a little flip when he reads your replies, no matter how mundane they are. Literally a “hey, I’m bored. Wanna hang out” is enough for him to lose sleep over it.

When you two do eventually go to said hang out, he pays extra attention to you: whether it's making sure you’re comfortable, or that you’ve got enough to eat, he’s always subtly looking out for you.

Despite all these signs, Isagi convinces himself it’s better this way — giving you small hints for you to understand rather than straight-up confessing. If you notice them and accept, great! If you notice and don’t accept, that’s fine too, he hopes you can remain friends though!

If you’re completely oblivious, well… he’ll muster up the courage to say it outright.

You and BACHIRA are like two peas in a pod together! Where there’s one, the other’s probably lurking nearby somewhere. Every second of every day seems to be spent with each other (and to anybody with common sense, you two already look like you’re dating).

When the crush starts, he thinks about you more than he already did, if that were even possible. Every little thing you do seems to make his heart race, but he sorta brushes it off as just excitement from being with his best friend.

Kind of a trickier situation than Isagi’s one this way though, because now you’re so close, Bachira doesn’t even feel that different about you. He might not even realise it’s romantic until his mother points it out in the midst of another one of his rambling sessions. About you, that is.

I won’t sugarcoat it; he’s nervous if anything. You’re one of the few friends he has and genuinely seem to care and like about him and if he ruins your friendship over his feelings, he’d be devastated.

But he’s back to his usual self and gains a little confidence after some encouragement from others!

Bachira’s clinginess ramps up a notch, but it’s so typical of him that you might not even notice. He’s constantly draping an arm around you, leaning on you, or just being in your personal space as much as possible.

Willing to share anything and everything with you. For example, if it’s snacks he’s got, he’s always picking out the best pieces just for you and handing them over with a cute smile.

Bachira finds himself staring at you a lot more now. Sometimes you’ll catch him and he’ll just laugh it off with a playful comment, but on the inside, his mind is racing with thoughts he can’t quite put into words.

When you talk, he listens with full attention, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more tender. He hangs onto your every word like it’s the most important thing he’s ever heard — and you could literally be talking about a bug you saw on the sidewalk this morning.

If you ever need anything, Bachira’s the first one to jump in and help, no questions asked. He’d go out of his way just to make you smile, even if it means a truckload of extra effort on his part.

Sometimes, he hints at deeper feelings in his usual roundabout way — in little jokes that might just have a hint of truth behind them. But he always plays it off as just that, a joke.

If you’re feeling down, he’s the first to notice, offering comfort in the form of goofy antics or just sitting with you in silence if that’s what you want.

If you ever confront him directly and ask if he feels something more than just being friends, Bachira might just spill everything in a rush of words; unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer. But until then, he’s content simply being by your side, even if it means he isn’t being entirely honest to himself.

[penkura]

PENKURAAAAA

I love your writing, especially for Law and Zoro. I'm also a sucker for the parent fics you do. What if reader and Law/Zoris kids were to surprise reader on their birthday? What would they do? How would they do it? Maybe reader thinks everyone forgot their birthday but the crew is actually just in on the surprise? Thanks for reading friend, I would love to see what you think ^^♡

HIII THANK YOUUUU I'm so glad you like the parent fics, they're some of favorite to write. 😊

I didn't think I'd finish this in time to post on my birthday but I did!! I wasn't sure where to go at first so I just started typing and this is what I've got!! I'm pretty happy with it myself, so I hope you like it too!! 😄

Law

Law has never forgotten a birthday or anniversary ever since you first got together. His ability to remember every date leaves you impresses every time, especially after your son and daughter were born, he kept every important date in the front of his mind so her never forgot. He intended to celebrate every important, special day so you and your kids knew how much he loved you. You make sure to do the same for Law, even if he’d rather you not celebrate his birthday, the grins he gets from your children every year make it worth remembering the day.

That’s why it’s very strange to wake up on your birthday without Law in your bed with you, or even your son Rosinante yelling ‘happy birthday’ to wake you. Your daughter Cora is still learning to talk, but even she would already be in your bed and giggling to help get you up for the day. It’s odd, you’re not sure what to think as you start getting ready for the day, still no sign of your family or the other Heart Pirates around. Once you leave your room, it’s oddly quiet but you pass by a few of your crewmates on your way to Law’s office, expecting him to be there at least. None of them say anything about your birthday, Bepo and Ikkaku seem a little antsy when you greet them, though you don’t think anything of it, even when they try to guide you to the kitchen instead.

You don’t go with them, saying you’d like to see your family first, opening the door to Law’s office and being surprised at what you see. Law at his desk is normal, even with your daughter sitting in his lap, but what’s different is the amount of streamers across the walls and floor, wrapping paper pieces mixed in, your children busy scribbling away on paper likely making cards for you.

It's so early you can’t believe the two are awake, especially seeing how Law appears to he asleep, his hat over this face and leaning back in his chair, but still holding little Cora so she can sit up and continue coloring.

Of course he wouldn’t forget, he was probably trying to surprise you, keeping things a secret and bringing your children to his office so you could sleep in while he got things together. That would also explain why most of your crewmates seemed anxious around you, they didn’t want you to figure it out too soon.

“Mama!”

When Rosi sees you, he’s torn between excited and upset, you weren’t supposed to see anything yet and the five-year-old was doing his best to keep everything secret after Law brought up your birthday and making cards for you. He pouts a little, but still jumps up to hug you, which you return.

“You weren’t s’pposed to see yet…”

Quietly laughing, to not wake Law even though Cora is starting to whine when she sees you, you hug Rosi a bit tighter before kissing the top of his head.

“You’re so sweet! I’m sorry I saw everything, sweetie!”

Rosi whines this time, telling you that you’re hugging him too tight, before you let him go and move to pick up Cora, who squeals when you do so and kiss her cheeks. Law doesn’t even wake at that, you wonder if he actually slept last night or not.

“You’re all so wonderful, I’m so blessed to have you guys.”

Rosi makes you promise not to tell anyone that you know, and you’re still surprised later that day at how big the party is. Law tells you later that your son thought it up, he just helped put it all together with the rest of your crew. No one finds out that you knew, Rosi keeps it a secret too and even when your daughter nearly drops her piece of cake on your shirt, it’s still the best birthday you’ve had in a while.

Zoro

While Zoro isn’t the best at remembering dates, your birthday is one he never forgets, no matter how long you’ve been together or how many other important days come and go. You know your captain and crew well enough that anything worth celebrating gets a huge party, birthdays are no exception, especially so after your daughter’s birth a few years ago. Every first for little Kuina was celebrated as only the Straw Hats could, food and drinks galore, even though she’d be confused by what was happening.

When she’s four-years-old and your birthday comes around again, Kuina is adamant on you having a big surprise party, even when Zoro tells her you aren’t the biggest fan of surprises (your unexpected pregnancy with her being an exception). She’ll pout and fuss until Zoro finally agrees, enlisting Nami and Sanji to get everything planned but not tell him the details. He trusts them to get everything planned, Kuina being their biggest help, but Zoro doesn’t want to know anything, so he doesn’t potentially spoil you on the surprise.

Kuina is better at keeping the secret than anyone else. If you ask her what she’s doing, when she grabs all her paper and coloring supplies, she just tell you she’s going to make a map with aunt Nami. That’s not unusual so you don’t question it, she does bring you her own map later that day anyway.

When your birthday finally comes around, neither Zoro nor Kuina says anything, they aren’t even around when you wake up that morning. Not uncommon though, everyone normally lets you sleep in on your birthday, but usually Zoro is there and Kuina comes running in after a few minutes to wake you both.

Once you’ve dressed and gotten ready for the day, you head for the kitchen, but you’re confused when no one you pass says anything to you apart from a good morning. Usopp just grins and says it, Franky does the same. Luffy is barely audible as he runs off to wherever, dragging Jinbei along with him. It really makes you wonder if they’ve all forgotten what today is. You don’t see anyone else until you get to the kitchen, only to have streamers from party poppers hit you in the face, hearing Kuina say ‘oops’.

“You weren’t supposed to do it in her face, Kuina!”

“Sorry, daddy!” Kuina gives you an apologetic look before she smiles, “Sorry, mommy! Happy birthday!!”

Once you’re able to see the kitchen better, there’s streamers and balloons round the room, your favorite breakfast all made and ready, a cake in the middle of the table, and every member of your crew there, you figure Luffy and Jinbei had slipped in behind you. They all give you their birthday wishes, and it nearly makes you cry which makes Zoro smirk at you.

“Now don’t cry about it. It was all your daughter’s idea.”

“Shut up, Zoro.” You may be near tears but the smile you have tells everyone you’re happy, as Kuina comes out and hugs you with a pout.

“Mommy, don’t cry! I made you a picture!!”

It’s childish work of course, she’s only four, but it’s still an adorable picture she’s drawn of the two of you, making you hug her back and lift her off the ground.

“Thank you so much, Kuina. I love it!”

You never question if any of them have forgotten your birthday again, expecting it to be due to Kuina having her own little plans for your special day. You’ll have to do the same for her next year now.

[raven-dor]

hii, can i reheat a harry potter x reader?? i dont really have anything specific in mind except maybe the reeder could be a slytherin and it would take place during the 5th book/movie so his friends, Sirius and the rest of the order of the phoenix are telling him to stay away from her or something?? that would be an interesting dynamic, i think?? Some angst and of course fluff maybe??

Thank you❤️

us.

In which harry potter falls for forbidden fruit

PAIRING: harry potter x slytherin!reader

WARNINGS: AU where cho and harry aren't a thing, angst, anxiety, dissaproval, arguing, death eaters, mentions of death, fluff

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Her hair was wild and free, Harry had noticed over the years. She’d tried to control it with a maroon ribbon, but it always fought against her. She’d always been around, at Quidditch games, the Triwizard tournament, always watching. She didn’t make herself known, which Harry found odd. Most people at Hogwarts wanted to make a name for themselves, but Y/N Rosier kept her head down. 

She had good grades, good enough to rival Hermione’s. She was kind; he’d observed her caring for a crying first year on more than one occasion. And she was friends with Luna, and he didn’t take Luna for being someone with a bad taste in friends. 

He’d thought about her this summer before his mind was preoccupied with wondering if he’d even be allowed to go back to school. Thankfully, Dumbledore saved him. 

Again. 

He was sulking in Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer and could often be found staring out the window longingly. Sirius had even sat beside him one day, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What’s troubling you?” 

Harry looked at his godfather curiously. “What do you mean?” 

“I’ve seen that look before.” Sirius laughed. “Your father looked out windows constantly while he thought about your mother. Who is she?” 

“She-” Harry sighed. “You wouldn’t like her.” 

“I’m sure she’s wonderful.” 

“She is.” He looked back out the window. “She’s kind and smart. Caring, too.”

“Sounds like I was right.” The man smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 

Harry smiled back but didn’t respond. In truth, he hadn’t talked to Y/N once in their entire time at Hogwarts. How do you introduce someone to your godfather that you’ve never talked to before?

The first time Harry talked to her was on the third day of school. He’d just had his second detention with Umbridge, the wicked old toad when he saw her walking into the Defense classroom with a solemn look on her otherwise serene face. 

“Rosier,” Harry spoke. 

She stopped as if surprised he was talking. She gripped her wand. “I don’t want-” 

Harry laughed. “I’m not- I’m not trying to attack you, I promise.” He smiled lightly. “Why are you in here then?” 

She hummed. “Same as you, I suppose.”

His eyes widened. “You have detention?” 

The girl smiled. “Something about betraying my house and defending…” She turned red, shaking her head. “Anyways, I have to get going.” She nodded, walking further into the classroom. “Bye, Potter.” 

The second time Harry had talked to her, he’d spotted her from across the pitch. The first practice was always a sort of train wreck, but people still came out to watch. If there was one thing about Hogwarts students, almost all were too involved with quidditch. Bets were placed, fights broke out, and points were taken away and given carelessly. It had amused Harry when he was a first year. 

Now, he was tired of it. 

He’d spotted her Slytherin scarf before he’d seen her. The way his heart started skipping was embarrassing. His cheeks were pink; he knew it, and he thanked Merlin that she was too far away to see. The way his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of green and silver confirmed his thoughts: if he hated Slytherin that much, then there was no telling how much Sirius, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of them would act. She was reading, occasionally glancing up to watch the practice. She was the only one sporting green and silver in the crowd of red and gold, which made him think, why was she here?

He knew for a fact she only hung around Luna and Cho, so why was she at a Gryffindor quidditch practice? Angelina yelled, knocking him out of his trance. “Oi! Watch for the snitch, Harry!” 

He saluted her, flying higher into the sky as he shook his head. Godric, give him courage. And strength. 

Angelina called it a day hours later, and Y/N was still there as if she was waiting for someone. He felt jealousy bubble up in his stomach. Who was she friends with on the team? He flew directly above her, putting on his most charming smile. “Waiting for someone?” 

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Gryffindors. Besides Granger.” 

Harry nodded, trying to fight the grin that threatened to give away his crush. “You know me.” 

“And Hermione.” She added. 

“That’s all you need to know, really.” 

She laughed, and in that moment, Harry vowed to make her laugh forever. “I don’t want to keep you.” 

“You’re not.” He responded too quickly. “I mean-” 

She stood up, waving. “I’ll see you around.” 

“I-” His voice got caught in his throat, and all he could do was wave back at her disappearing figure. “Bye.” 

Sirius’s face had appeared in the fire out of nowhere. Once Ron and Hermione had gone to bed, his godfather’s tone switched to a light one. “So, how is she?” 

“She?” Harry tilted his head. “Who-” Oh. Harry flushed. Sirius had remembered their conversation. “She’s good.” 

“Good?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Have you talked to her?” 

“Once.” He smiled. “She’s quiet.” 

Sirius smiled. “The quiet ones.” He laughed. “They’re tough to crack but very worth it.” His godfather held a sad sort of look on his face like he was reminiscing on a lost love. “Be patient with her, Harry.” 

“I am,” Harry responded. “But she seems so sad.” 

“Well,” Sirius whispered. “Give her a reason to be happy then.” 

The third time he’d talked to her, she had approached him. Mainly because he hadn’t even seen her coming, too wrapped up in his thoughts, too wrapped up in all the chaos that his fifth year had produced. He was trying not to pass out from the pain that stabbed at him from the back of his hand. He’d thought he was used to it, the quill that cut into the back of his hand, but a weekend off made him weak. 

“Potter?” He hadn’t responded. “Harry?” She tried. That had made him stop and look up. He smiled, but she could tell something was wrong. 

“Rosier, hi.” 

“What’s wrong?” She whispered. “Are you hurt?” She checked him over while he stared at her. She was touching him. Merlin, he thought. Soon enough, she’d find his scar. She gasped. “Your hand.” 

He laughed, pulling his hand out of her hold. “It’s nothing.” 

She raised an eyebrow, looking rather upset at him. That wasn’t a look he thought she possessed enough attitude in her body for. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought. “Harry…” She pulled up her sleeve, the back of her hand holding a matching scar. “You get used to it after a while.” 

“She did it to you too?” He scoffed. “What did your parents say? That’s-” 

“My parents suggested it. Thought it would teach me a lesson.” She laughed, smirking. “Little do they know, the only lesson it taught me is to never trust them again.” Harry grinned, and she shoved him lightly. “Why are you smiling?” 

“You’re just-” He laughed. “Not what I expected.” 

She laughed back. “Well, if it’s any consolation, neither are you.” 

Harry did not want to be here. He’d made that abundantly clear to Hermione, who simply ignored him. Ron laughed at his best friend, who was practically dragging his feet to the meeting. “Bloody hell, mate. It’s only a meeting. You’re acting like we’re marching you to your death.” 

Hermione glared. “Poor choice of words, Ronald.” Rubbing her hands together, she walked into the old building. “We’re here.” 

Harry whispered to Ron. “Where exactly are we?”

“No idea, mate.” 

Harry groaned. “Who’s supposed to be meeting us then?” 

“Just a couple of people.” 

They stumbled up the stairs, and Harry fought the murderous glare toward Hermione. There were definitely more than thirty people, not a few. The boys sat down, but Hermione stayed standing. “You all know why we’re here. We need a teacher. A proper teacher. One who’s had real experience defending themselves against the Dark Arts.” 

“Why?” 

Harry looked through the crowd, glaring at the boy who spoke. Ron scoffed. “Why? Because You Know Who’s back, you tosspot.” 

“So he says.” 

“So Dumbledore says.” 

“So Dumbledore says because he says. The point is, where’s the proof?” 

“If Potter could tell us more about how Diggory got killed-” 

Harry pushed out of his chair. “I’m not going to talk about Cedric, so if that’s why you’re here, you might as well clear out now.” He whispered in Hermione’s ear. “Come on, Hermione, they’re just here because they think I’m some sort of freak…” 

“Is it true you can produce a Patronus charm?” Harry looked over, his eyes widening when he made direct contact with hers. She was here, standing beside Cho and Luna. 

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen it.” 

“Blimey Harry. I didn’t know you could do that.” Dean looked amazed. 

“And he killed a basilisk with the sword in Dumbledore’s office.” 

“Third year, he fought about a hundred Dementors at once.” 

“And last year, he really did fight You Know Who.” 

“Wait.” This was all so overwhelming, and now that he could feel Y/N’s eyes staring into him, he felt like he was burning. “Look, it all sounds great when you say it like that, but the truth is, most of that was just luck. I didn’t know what I was doing half the time; I nearly always had help…” 

“He’s just being modest.” 

“No, Hermione, I’m not. Facing this stuff in real life is not like school. In school, if you make a mistake, you can just try again tomorrow. But out there, when you’re a second away from being murdered or watching a friend die right before your eyes, you don’t know what that’s like.”

“You’re right,” Y/N spoke, the room turning to face her. Murmurs echoed through the room; what was she doing here? “And I know that none of us want to know, but it’s inevitable.” She smiled softly at Harry. “So teach us. Because Voldemort is coming, and it’s only a matter of time until we have to fight, too.” 

Harry nodded, truly smiling for the first time that day. “Exactly.” 

The room lined up, signing the parchment of paper Hermione had brought as a sort of roster. When Y/N had gotten to the front, he’d straightened his posture, smiling widely. “Rosier. Good to see you.” 

She smiled back. “Wouldn’t miss it.” She sighed her name, waving. “See you, Harry.” 

Ron squinted his eyes, staring at his best friend curiously. “What is a Slytherin doing here?” 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Probably heard about it from Cho and Luna.” 

Ron scoffed. “How do you know they’re friends?” 

“Because I-” He panicked. “Cedric told me they had a Slytherin friend.” 

Ron nodded but was unconvinced. Harry felt horrible for not saying what he truly felt; he’d had a crush on Y/N for a while, not Cho, contrary to popular belief. 

Harry had lost his breath when he saw her walk in beside Cho. She didn’t look any different than normal, he supposed, but her smile was bright, and she looked happy. He walked over. “Rosier.” 

Y/N turned toward him, blushing. “Harry, you can call me by my name.” 

He grinned. “I’ll try. No promises, though.” He clapped his hands together, surprised at how clammy they felt. “Excited for the first meeting?” 

“Very. I love DADA. Especially the days that we practice. And this is practically that so…” She smiled. “I’m very excited.” 

Ron called out, ushering Harry over. The boy sighed. “I have to-” 

She nodded. “Go. I’ll be here.” 

He practically raced through his welcome speech, jittering about knowing Y/N was watching him. The DA formed a single line, Neville going first in their disarming exercise. He was nervous, and so was Harry, but he suspected for two completely different reasons. Neville held up his wand, waving it carelessly. “Expelliarmus!” 

Somehow, his wand flew backward, flying through the line as people ducked out of the way. Harry tried not to laugh, but when he spotted her giggling, a grin broke. He put his hand on Neville’s shoulder sympathetically. “Next time.” 

Y/N was next, smiling shyly at him. “Harry.” 

He nudged her. “Do you know how to cast a disarming spell?” 

She nodded. “Of course I do.” 

He smiled wider, stepping back. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

She flicked her wrist quickly, her voice firm. “Expelliarmus.” The ‘death eater’s’ wand vanished like dust, the dummy swaying back and forth. She nodded, satisfied with her work. Harry clapped lightly. “Perfect. That was perfect.” 

What he’d actually wanted to say was, ‘You’re perfect.’

“Stunning is one of the most useful spells in your arsenal. It’s sort of a wizard’s bread and butter, really.” Harry stopped at the opposite end of the room, facing his opponent. Y/N smiled reassuringly at Nigel; he looked frightened. 

She understood. She would be, too, if she were facing the Boy Who Lived. 

Harry clapped his hands. “Come on, Nigel, give me your best shot.” 

Nigel tightened the grip on his wand. “Stupefy!” 

Harry flew back, hitting the wall, but funnily enough, so did Nigel. Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth. “Good.” Harry gasped. “Not bad at all, Nigel; well done.” He stood up, looking at the crowd. “Perhaps that’s enough stunning for today.” He smiled. “Anyone fancy a duel?” Y/N stepped forward, smirking. Harry’s smile grew. “Rosier.”

“Potter.” She gripped her wand, standing on the opposite side. “Ready?” 

He nodded, eyes full of determination. “Are you?” 

“Impedimenta!” 

Harry couldn’t even get a word out, moving at a sloth's pace. She smirked, sending one more spell his way for good measure. “Depulso!” He flew back, the room gasping. Her spells quickly faded, and she walked over, smiling shyly once more. “I’m sorry, was that too much-” 

Harry had never been more in love with her than in that moment. He shook his head, scrambling to his feet and addressing the crowd. “Take notes, everyone. Rosier here gave you all a perfect example of how to best an enemy.” He gestured to her, clapping. “Fantastic work, Y/N.” 

She blushed, shaking her head. “Please, it was nothing.” 

Y/N watched in horror as Draco started chanting. Ron wasn’t Y/N’s friend by any means, but he was kind enough, and Draco publicly embarrassing him would not end well. She marched over, hissing at the bright blonde. “Stop that this instant.” 

Draco’s eyebrow rose. “And what will you do about it, Rosier?” 

“You-” She crossed her arms. “How would you like it if Gryffindor started chanting about how your dear daddy is a death eater?” 

Draco’s eyes widened, but he continued. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She stalked away, standing back with Luna. “I can’t believe you actually wore it, Lu.” Her friend was wearing a giant lion’s head made of paper mache. Y/N was very sure the students behind her were less than happy with the obstruction to their view. 

Luna smiled. “Interesting you’re standing in Gryffindor’s section, Y/N/N.” She raised an eyebrow. “How is Harry?” 

“He’s fine, we actually-” Y/N stopped, glaring at her friend. “Why do you ask?” 

Luna smirked but said nothing. “No reason. Curiosity, I suppose.” 

The game wasn’t fair, and when it ended, Y/N felt the tension in the air. She raced to the field, panting from how fast she ran. “Harry!” She called out. He turned around hesitantly, practically glowing from anger. Her stomach flipped, even if he was angry, he still looked gorgeous. Walking closer, she smiled brightly. “You did wonderfully. You’re an amazing seeker.” 

He blushed, still visibly upset from Slytherin’s actions. “Thanks.” He opened his mouth and then closed it. 

Y/N smiled. “I’m sorry about Draco. He’s obnoxious.” 

Harry scoffed. “That is one word to describe him.”

“Harry, I wanted to say-” 

“Well, well, well.” Y/N rolled her eyes, turning around to face Draco. “I heard you were a blood traitor, Rosier, but I never thought it was true.” 

She crossed her arms, standing beside Harry. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

Draco hissed. “Stooping down to the likes of Potter, I can tolerate. But Weasley?” He smirked. “You know, he was raised in a bin.” He looked at Harry. “Did you like that lyric Potter?” 

Harry didn’t respond, grabbing Y/N’s hand and pulling her towards the team. She blushed but didn’t fight it; it felt nice, knowing that he wanted her beside him. Draco continued. “We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called as Alicia hugged Harry tightly. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly--we wanted to sing about his mother. And we couldn’t fit useless loser either, for their father.” 

Y/N clenched her fist, tapping her foot impatiently. Harry smiled; it was endearing to see how upset she was for them. He whispered, rubbing the back of her hand lightly. “Just leave it.” 

Draco continued once more. “You like the Weasley’s, don’t you, Potter? Spend the holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I supposed when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasley's hovel smells okay-” 

Harry let go of Y/N’s hand, grabbing George. The lot of them were seething, and Y/N understood, not far from it herself. “Or perhaps," Draco said, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter. And Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it-” 

Y/N snapped, glaring. “Draco, stop this right-” 

Harry and George charged at the Slytherin, and she gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth in shock. Good on them, she thought. It serves him right, talking like that about their family. And as much as she loved that Draco was finally getting what he deserved, she couldn’t watch as they got in trouble. “Stop! Harry, stop!” Alicia, Katie, and Angelina were still holding Fred back, and Hermione, Y/N assumed, was off comforting Ron. 

Madam Hooch practically glided over. “Impedimentia!” She placed her hands on her hips, appalled at the sight before her. “Never have I seen such a disgrace. Go to your Head of House immediately!” 

Y/N followed after Harry, casting healing spells over the cuts he acquired while walking. “Harry, I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t have said that.” 

He glared at the ground, humming at her touch. “S’fine. Just-” He scoffed. “Thanks for-”

She shook her head, placing a daring hand on his cheek. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. Just take it easy; we don’t need you in any more trouble.” She smiled, whispering. “I don’t need you in any more trouble. You’re too important.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the reminder. It’s not as if I hear it everyday.” 

“Harry…” Y/N blushed, murmuring. “I wasn’t talking about that. I meant…” She sighed, stepping away. “Never mind.” 

He grabbed her hand, pulling her back. “Say it.” 

She smiled. “Harry…” 

“Y/N…” He looked desperate, and it broke her resolve instantly.

“You know that I care about you, and you’re-” She hesitated. “You’re important to me.” 

Harry stood by the mirror, staring at all the newspaper clippings that hung on its borders. So many people lost, so many people still lost, but all he could think about was Y/N. You know that  I care about you. He’d been thinking about it ever since she’d said it, his mind constantly on her. What was she doing? What class was she in, and what hairdo had she done?  

Those were all fine thoughts, but not so much when you had a secret class to teach. They’d just had their last term lesson, and Harry felt relieved. He felt terrible thinking it, but he did. A cough broke through the silence, tearing him from his thoughts. “Harry? Are you alright?” 

He didn’t turn around but nodded. “Fine.” 

She smiled, stepping beside him and staring into the mirror. “You look worried.” 

“Really?” He turned toward her, a surge of confidence racing through his veins. “Odd, I don’t feel worried.” 

She rolled her eyes, shoving him lightly. “Confident today, I see.” Y/N blushed, whispering. “I like it.” 

“Yeah?” He stepped closer. “I like you.” 

Her eyes widened, and she scoffed in shock. “Harry!” 

“I’m sorry.” He grinned. “I’ve been trying to deny it, but- I can’t.” He leaned down. “I like you. A lot.” 

Her eyes watered, and she shook her head. “Harry, I don’t deserve-” 

“Yes, you do.” He grinned, panicking that she wasn’t completely on board already. “Unless you don’t like me?” He backed away, bright red and staring at the ground. “I’m sorry, I thought-” 

Her lips pressed against his quickly. “I do like you. I just-” She backed away. “I can’t.” 

Break had been a nice reprise from Hogwarts. Even if it meant not seeing Y/N every day, he thought about what she said over and over and over. It was becoming habit now to think about what she said constantly. I do like you. I just can’t. What did she mean by that? 

Harry stared out the window once more, gripping a cider in his cold hands. 

“May I assume that she is on your mind again?” Sirius laughed, sitting beside his godson. “What’s happened now?” 

“She kissed me.” He looked helpless, and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh again. “And then she told me that she liked me-” 

“Well, that’s great-” 

“But she couldn’t.” Harry leaned his head back against the chair. “What does that mean?” 

Sirius was at a crossroads. Assuming the worst, that meant she was in danger, and assuming the best, she felt like she wasn’t good enough for Harry or something of that nature. “What could possibly be the problem?” Harry didn’t answer, refusing to look his godfather in the eye. That had scared Sirus. Had Harry fallen for someone he shouldn’t have? “Harry?” 

“She-” Harry didn’t want to tell Sirius. At least, not like this. Sirius was known for hating Slytherins. What would he say when his godson told him he liked one? “I-” 

“Harry, I support you, no matter what.” His godfather smiled. “Nothing you could say could upset me.” 

That made Harry feel reassured enough to form the words. “Don’t be mad.” 

“I won't?” Sirius felt nervous. 

“She- She’s in Slytherin.” 

Ah. Sirius felt conflicted, smiling awkwardly. “Well, that doesn’t mean anything. Not all Slytherins are bad. I’m sure she’s-” 

“She’s a Rosier.” 

“What?” Sirius whispered. The Rosiers were known for their extremely dark nature and affinity for He Who Must Not Be Named. “It wouldn’t be Y/N Rosier?” 

Harry faltered. “Why?” 

“Harry, the Rosier’s are not to be trusted.” 

“She’s not like-” 

“NO!” Sirius hadn’t realized how upset he’d become. “Harry, listen to me-” 

Harry stood up, shocked at how quickly Sirius had turned. “You don’t know her. She’s kind and-” 

“So was Evan Rosier.” Sirius fought. “Her father. He was my brother’s best friend, and he-” His voice broke. “Is the reason Regulus is dead.” 

“Sirius, you don’t-” 

“Harry.” His godfather’s eyes were dark. “Don’t fight me on this.” 

Who was Sirius to tell him what to do? Y/N was nothing like her family, and, at least to Harry, practically was doing the same thing that Sirus had done nearly 20 years ago. “Sirius, she doesn’t get along with her family. She got-” 

“Harry! Leave it alone!” Sirius was glowering with anger. He huffed, stalking off into his study, leaving Harry deeper in his thoughts than Sirius had found him.

His argument with Sirius had put him in an even worse mood than normal, stalking about the castle with an invisible storm cloud over his head. He was a hypocrite, Harry had decided. If he had just heard him out, surely Sirius would understand. He entered the library, pulling out a crumbled piece of paper and started drafting a letter.

Key word started, because about two words in, he heard sniffling, and he became distracted. He walked into the aisle, surprised to see Y/N openly sobbing. “Y/N?” She seemed startled, and tried to wipe the tears off her face, but Harry was quick. He stood in front of her, wiping of her tears gently. “What’s happened?” 

“It’s nothing.” She smiled. “How was your break?” 

“Y/N, don’t lie to me.” He laughed to ease the tension. “Not many people cry in the library.” 

She scoffed, staring at her hands. “I beg to differ. Many a panicked student cry while staring at their homework.” 

“Y/N…” He sighed. “You can tell me.” 

“I-” She sobbed again, trying to fight it. “My parents threatened to kick me out.” 

His eyes widened. “What? Why?” 

“I-” She whispered. “I can’t tell you.” It’s like she had practiced it her whole life, because in seconds, her entire demeanor changed from sad to calm and collected. She stood straight, and walked away from him without a second thought. 

Harry was thoroughly confused. Running back to grab his things, he pulled the map out and followed after her. She looked over her shoulder, shock evident on her face. She turned back around picking up her pace. He groaned, running to catch up. “Y/N, wait!” 

She whipped around, running into him. “Leave it alone Harry!” 

Leave it alone. 

He now knew that was his least favorite phrase of all time. He shook his head. “No.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her down the hall. “Come on.” 

She rose an eyebrow, but didn’t fight him, following after. “What are you doing? Going to kill me?” 

He rolled his eyes, not looking back. “I need you to trust me.” 

She blushed, murmuring. “I’ve trusted you for a while, Harry.” 

The wall in front of them changed, her eyes widening. “What-” 

“The Room of Requirement.” He smirked. “You should know this, Ms. Top of our Class.” 

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not-” 

“Top of the class. I know.” He sat her down on the couch, sitting beside her. “But you practically are.” Holding her hands in his, he whispered. “Tell me what happened.” 

“You know my parents are…” She sighed. “Avid supporters of Voldemort.” Harry nodded. “Well, now they want me to also become an avid supporter of Voldemort.” His eyes widened. 

“You said no, right?” 

She glared lightly. “Of course I said no. To which they responded, you will do this, or you will not have a home to come back to.” Her eyes started tearing up again, and she fell into his arms. “What am I going to do?” 

He pulled her close, sighing. “I don’t know Y/N. But I’ll figure it out. I swear.” He kissed her temple, whispering. “I swear.” 

He knew she hadn’t told them, he just knew. Harry swore to everyone who told him, Y/N would never tell Umbridge a thing. She had to scars to prove it. Everyone that had once been in Dumbledore’s Army had practically ostrasized her, with the exception of Harry himself. Hermione and Ron were quiet about the subject, but Harry knew what they thought.

For the first time in his life, he hadn’t cared. Y/N was kind and loyal, she wouldn’t have betrayed them like that. She wouldn’t have betrayed him like that. Besides, it wasn’t Y/N that Filch was holding when the walls had been blown in, it had been Cho. 

Yet everyone immediately blamed Y/N. Simply because of her house.

He rolled his eyes, glaring at the fire. Ron laughed, nudging him lightly. “What did the fire ever do to you?” 

He glared at Ron. “You think Y/N told, don’t you?” 

“Harry-” 

Hermione stayed quiet, which came as odd to him. “Have anything to say, Hermione?” 

She sighed. “Harry, you have to understand… she’s in-” 

“Slytherin, I know. Merlin himself was in Slytherin.” He scoffed. “I don’t hear the entirety of the Wizarding World shaming him.” 

“It’s different.” Ron mumbled. 

Harry whipped his head around. “No!” He stood up, glaring at his friends. “She would have never done something like this. You don’t know her like-” He took a deep breath, realizing the other lingering students were staring. “You don’t know her like that.” 

Hermione was beet red. “She didn’t do it.” 

Harry tilted his head. “What did you just say?”

“I know she didn’t do it. I- I charmed the parchment to expose any traitors.” She was now whispering, staring at her hands. “The only person that ‘betrayed’ us was Marietta Edgecombe.” 

He was now fuming. “You knew? You knew and said nothing?” 

Ron was standing in between the two. “Now wait just a minute-” 

“NO! She defended you, she defended all of us, and you just leave her to the wolves?” He felt livid. “What sort of people are you?” 

Hermione sighed. “Harry-” 

He was already gone, the portrait slamming against the wall. 

Ron and Hermione had apoligized to Y/N, and Harry, for behaving horribly. Harry had felt a sense of protectiveness over Y/N that he hadn’t felt since becoming friends with Ron and Hermione. 

Sure, school had been horrible, but at least he had had her and his friends. And Sirius. 

Not anymore though, he thought bitterly. Because Sirius was dead.

He was going through Sirius’s belonging in Grimmauld Place when he spotted a letter, addressed to Prongs Jr. Harry had rolled his eyes. He ripped the letter open, eyes watering at it’s contents. 

Harry,

After writing Dumbledore multiple letters, I found that you were correct, Y/N Rosier does not get along with her family. From his accounts, she is like you said, kind, caring, and smart. You’re a lucky man.

I feel horribly about our fight. You’ve always seen the good in people, and are rather optimistic for such a melancholy boy. You’re parents would have been proud. 

I’ve told you this many times, but I feel trapped in my own home. I know Uncle Alphard meant well by keeping me heir, but I swear if I ever see him again, I’ll give him a peice of my mind. 

I meant what I said before you left, we’ve all have light and dark inside of us. Thankfully, Y/N has chosen to hold onto the light. Her family cannot say the same. I should never had judged her so harshly, and for that, I apoligize. To both of you. I understand all too well what it is like to have a wicked family. Hopefully you forgive me, and bring her around the old prison soon. 

You are a good person, Harry. Never forget that.

Your Godfather, 

Sirius Bla-

The words on his last name were scribbled, and Harry could only assume his godfather had been writing this answer when Remus told him what was happening at the Ministry. A single tear fell down his cheek, and he angrily wiped it away. “Harry?” He turned around, smiling at his girlfriend. “Oh Harry, it’s alright.” Y/N knelt beside him, huggin him tightly. “He’s still with you. You know that.” 

Harry laughed, nodding. “He wrote a letter to me. The day he died.” 

She smiled. “That’s wonderful.” 

“He talked about you.” 

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh.” 

Harry smiled, kissing her cheek gently. “I love you.” 

“Harry!” She scoffed, shoving him away and standing up. “What have I said about-” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She glared. “Now, will you please help me move my things in here? I feel bad enough that Dumbledore himself is letting me stay in a house that isn’t even mine.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, stood up, and followed after her. “Sirius would have wanted you to stay here, trust me.” He smirked. Besides, this is technically my house."

Y/N laughed. “Sirius didn’t even know me.” 

“He did,” Harry teased. “In a way.” 

Y/N sighed, turning around and hugging Harry quickly. “He was a great person Harry.” 

“He was.” He agreed, looking deep into her eyes. “And you are too.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos

[loko4koko]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

© loko4koko 2024

[solarmorrigan]

Hello there! I’m not entirely sure if you’re still doing the whole angsty-ish prompt thing, but if you are could please consider doing, “Shit, are you bleeding!?”, with steddie and Steve being the one bleeding?

Maybe Steve never actually took care of his bat wounds and they reopened or smth??

If not then that’s totally fine! Feel free to ignore :)

THIS IS VERY LATE, I'M SORRY. I know you sent this request months ago, and believe it or not, I didn't forget about it! It haunted me. (Not really, but I did keep it in mind, and I finally managed to get a little thing out for it! I hope this is a little like what you had in mind?)

[CW: blood, mentions of injury]

-

They’ve done it.

They’ve actually fucking done it.

They pulled off the whole stupid plan, no one is dead (except for Vecna), they’re right-side up, the gate has resealed itself – it’s over.

They won.

And now, there’s just one thing left to do.

Nothing official, really, just something Eddie had promised himself he would do if he actually managed to survive (odds hadn’t seemed to be in his favor at the time, so he hadn’t expected to have to follow through, but he’d also promised himself there would be no more running away). In a way, he’d promised Steve, too, so he thinks he’d better deliver.

(At least, he hopes that’s what he’d communicated to Steve; he hopes that’s what that meaningful look and that significant nod that passed between them had meant and that he’s not about to get his ass kicked after surviving the siege of a bat tornado in a mirror version of his trailer in a fucked up alternate dimension.)

Eddie gives Dustin one last affectionate pat on the back, skirts around where Robin is babbling something enthusiastically at Nancy, who looks a little too shellshocked to do much more than listen with an almost disbelieving smile, and makes it over to where Steve is standing by the front door. He’s got his back to the group, hunched over a little as he fiddles with something beneath his unzipped jacket, but he perks up the moment he hears Eddie’s voice.

“Steve,” Eddie calls, more quietly than the last time, but with no less gravity, and just like last time, Steve turns back, his gaze falling heavily on Eddie.

Before he can talk himself out of it, and horribly aware that this isn’t really the best time or place (but then again, if not here, then where? If not now, when?), Eddie steps closer, steps right into Steve’s space, cups one hand to his ash-smudged cheek, and leans in to kiss him.

He barely even has a moment to wonder if he’s made a monumental mistake before Steve is kissing him back, tilting his head and pressing closer and moving his lips against Eddie’s like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. If the rest of the trailer has fallen conspicuously silent, Eddie doesn’t notice.

The kiss doesn’t last long (not as long as Eddie would like), but that’s alright; it feels like there will probably be more.

“Wanted to do that earlier,” Eddie murmurs as they pull apart. “But I didn’t want you to think it was some kind of last-ditch wish fulfillment because I thought I was going to die. Figured now would be better.”

“Now is good,” Steve says softly; his eyes are a little hazy, a little unfocused (and damn, had Eddie done that?), but they find Eddie’s without trouble. "Now is great."

And then it’s Steve’s hands on Eddie’s face, curled carefully at the edges of his jaw, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s only the feeling of something wet sliding across Eddie’s skin that distracts him and makes him pull back. Steve’s hands fall away, and Eddie reaches up to swipe over his jaw and looks down at his hand.

His heart thumps when he sees red.

“Am I–?” He reaches up again, rubbing his fingers across his skin again, but he feels no pain, finds no injury. “Are you–?” Eddie looks now at Steve’s hand, heart jumping again when he sees more of the same smeared across Steve’s fingers. “Shit, are you bleeding?”

Steve frowns, reaching up with his clean hand to try to swipe the mess away with his thumb. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but he sounds distant now, a little breathless in a way that Eddie can’t blame on any kiss.

Eddie reaches out and spreads his hands under Steve’s jacket, pushing it open to get a good look at him, and finds the damning dark spots spreading across the fabric of the t-shirt underneath.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Shit, shit, Steve–”

“Might’ve pulled something,” Steve murmurs, “fighting Vecna.”

“You think?” Eddie is aware that he’s getting a bit shrill, but he thinks that he really can’t be blamed. “Wheeler!”

Nancy is there in an instant, and Robin is at Steve’s side just as he starts to wobble. She gets an arm around his back and he hisses, reminding them all that the bat bites on his sides aren’t the only wounds he’d sustained.

And then Nancy is barking instructions, and Robin is talking, quiet and rapid-fire at Steve as they sit him down on the couch, and Dustin is demanding to know what’s wrong (and if Eddie thought he’d been getting shrill–), and Eddie only manages to get him out of the vicinity by telling him to go call an ambulance.

“He’s gonna be fine, Henderson, but we need help,” Eddie says firmly, giving him a shove in the direction of the phone. “We’ve got him, he’ll be fine.”

And Eddie hopes to God, to Satan, to who-the-fuck-ever it is he’s supposed to be praying to at this point, that he isn’t lying to the kid.

He’s just gotten Steve – he can’t lose him now.

[lightlycareless]

I’m curious, how would you think Naoya’s canonical first appearance would be like if he was married to Y/N during the events of the manga? I wonder if he’d still maintain his role as antagonist(maybe he’d turn ally?) or if he’d just be nonexistent because him and Y/N decide to leave Japan post shibuya(he can’t let y/n get caught up in that) XD

Hello anon!!!

Well, I actually wrote a little something detailing that hehe. Kind of. I hope it still answers your question :>

Also, because this is the perfect opportunity to do so, why not write something sad/angsty for a change. A "what would happen with Y/N and Naoya during Shibuya" :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) but somewhat taking into consideration the post above? Hmmm more at the end.

warnings: slight mentions of character death. mentions of pregnancy. angst. sad overall I believe. :') Naoya loves you and has done things differently than the jerk we all know of course. Or not? Also, I don't remember much of Shibuya anymore so forgive me if something is odd about it.

Happy reading!

I would say Naoya would quickly decide to get you out of danger. No questions about it; he doesn’t even consider otherwise. As soon as he hears what is going down he intends to send you far away in some remote safe house where he thinks you and the kids will be ok—perfectly tended for, as he’d always made sure.

You, on the other hand, aren’t too enthusiastic about leaving everything behind, simply because your family was right in the middle of the crisis! And of course they would be, always rushing to serve the noble cause, you were not surprised to learn that they were doing their best to prevent the situation from worsening.

But this was no ordinary task, that much obvious by a simple glance. And if not through that, then by the growing uneasiness settling in your heart. One that demanded you to stay… or at least remain attentive to what is to follow.

“But I don’t think that’s even necessa—”

“We’re not discussing this anymore, Y/N. You are leaving, and you’re doing so tomorrow first thing in the morning. I already made all the preparations, you just need to have the kids awake and ready.”

“I don’t want to leave my family.” You insist. “I shouldn’t! They—They need me. They’re putting their life on the line; I can’t just leave—”

“Our children need you more. I need you more.” Naoya frowns, frustrated that of all things you’ve decided to refute him on, this had to be the one. “As I said, I won’t discuss this with you anymore—you are leaving.”

“But Naoya—!”

You’ve only seen this firm side of him on scarce occasions; either when reprimanding your naïve kids when accidentally doing something that might hurt them, or when putting his family in place after saying… well, the things they normally did.

And since you obviously don’t like pushing him over the edge, having more than enough with the weight of being the heir of a prestigious clan, as well as all his work as a sorcerer, you tend to just go with what he wants.

But not this time around, you simply couldn’t act like there wasn’t something bothering you. Something looming over your mind, a frightening omen that involved someone directly involved with you.

It could be anyone. Either your family, or… Naoya.

Both chances you did not wish to take.

“…Please.” Naoya would quietly insist after seeing you grow silent, regretful of the domineering way he seemed to take over the conversation, for after all was said and done, he loved you more than anything else in this world and would rather die than hurt you.

He wasn’t happy about this arrangement, no, in fact he despised it.

Hated the fact that he had to be the one to come up with it in the first place—but after what he heard from Shibuya, alongside his father being summoned for support, it was nothing but clear that he needed to act.

“You’ll be stationed in a nice place. A quiet little village with a nice, ample house and access to a relaxing beach for you and the kids to spend time on.  Now, doesn’t that sound nice, mochi?”

Had it been literally any other occasion, you would have been ecstatic. Happy to have the opportunity to spend time with your family without worrying about anything, simply what you and your kids were to do next.

But it wasn’t meant to be this way, so much that even the kids were unusually calm about the so-called holiday. Having sensed their mother’s anxiety and preferring being by her side than thinking of having fun.

“And school? What about their friends?” You eventually ask, of course, one of the many ways to stall him.

“I don’t believe you will be away for long, but I arranged everything in the meantime. They will be homeschooled.” Naoya explains, you frown. “As for friends… I guess I can consider occasional visits. Though they’ll more likely make new ones over there.”

“…And you? Will you be… coming with us?” You know that wouldn’t be, assumed so either way. But still, you hoped he would surprise you otherwise.

“…You know I can’t.” Naoya responds, your heart sinks to your stomach.

“Why not? Your father is already there for support. Why do you have to go?” you scowl.

“I have to stay at the estate to oversee it while he’s gone.” He explains. “I wish I could go, or that you and our kids could stay but… it’s too dangerous. If anything happens at Shibuya and things decide to escalate, it’s only logical that the estate will become a target and I won’t risk it.”

You press your lips together, understanding his words, yet disappointed that it had to be that way. A part of you tried to accept them, let it go, for you knew exactly what you were getting into when you married him.

And the other…

“I can’t… I don’t feel comfortable being away while you and my family are in danger!”

“This is no different from any other mission I’ve gone to, or that your family has.” Naoya attempts to console you, but both knew that wasn’t the trutht. “What is it? What is it that has you like this?”

“…I…I don’t…I don’t know.” You begin slowly, hesitant to admit your thoughts in fear that they might become true. To painful to even consider it! “I just… have this awful feeling that something bad is going to happen soon.”

“Like what?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

Naoya didn’t need more to understand, and such, leans closer to you, enough to wrap his arms around you and gently place a kiss on the top of your head.

“…Nothing will happen. I swear. I will contact you whenever possible so you’ll be at ease. And if there’s any change, I’ll let you know as well. I promise.”

“…Please?”

“Of course, princess.” He smirks, now kissing your cheek. “I wouldn’t even dream otherwise.”

“You haven’t called me that in a long time.” You silently admit; his words lift some of the burdening weight from your heart.

Not enough to free you, but enough for you to slightly jest at him.

“Well, our little Naomi kind of inherited it, didn’t she?”

“She’s well deserving of it. It fits her.”

“Technically you’re my princess, and she’s our little princess.”

“…I guess so, if you put it that way it kind of makes sense.”

Silence engulfs the two for a brief moment soon after, motivating Naoya to hug you even tighter.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N. It’s nothing but a situation that… got a little bit out of hand, but nothing I can’t handle. That’s all.

Just remember that my father is involved too. And…” as much as he hated admitting it, the old man was a very talented sorcerer. A good decision was made by considering him. “Gojo-kun is also there too, and everyone knows there’s no one stronger than him. As for your sister… well, she’s quite a force to be reckoned with too.”

“I never thought I’d come to hear you compliment them, ever!” You tease, he scoffs, slightly embarrassed.

“I just want to make you happy.” Naoya silently admits, placing his fingers underneath your chin and lifting your gaze to his. “You mean the world to me; I don’t know what I would do if you—if you… I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“Then hurry up back home.” You pout, a tear sliding down cheek. “Please, for me. For the kids.”

“Promise me to always send me pictures of you and the kids. It’ll serve me as motivation as to why I even bother doing all this…” He frowns. “…And to let me know if you’re ok. You’ll be secured there with some of my men, but I still wish to hear it from you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll send you so many, you’ll ask me to stop!”

“Now, mochi, no need to say fallacies we know won’t happen.” He teases back, which you respond with a giggle before quieting down, the realization that his impending departure is near.

“May the gods bring you back safe to me.” You silently pray, pressing a kiss on his lips to seal your protection charm, the one you’ve previous on prior occasions and has always worked—or so you believed.

The same one you desperately hoped would work this time around as well, especially after beginning to hear the horrific loses Shibuya had brought along.

From the death of your beloved friend Nanami to Gojo’s unprecedented sealing, you remained on edge as you tried your best to keep constant communication with Naoya, trying to figure out if any of these happenings had affected him one way or the other, praying that nothing would befall him.

Eventually cursing yourself when realizing you had unknowingly called a bad presage into reality when Naoya one day, without previous warning, directly and sternly, sends you the following message:

“My father died in Shibuya. I am now clan leader.”

To congratulate him given the circumstances of his death felt out of place, if not incredibly imprudent—even if this was his biggest dream.

It just came to you so… unexpectedly, though some would say that incidences would occur in such conflict. Perhaps it was Naobito’s time to leave this earth.

And yet, another part of you decided to take this as a warning, a reminder that this was no common attack. Not if it was capable of claiming the life of someone so skillful as your father-in-law.

…

What did any of this mean for Naoya? Is he safe? Is he ok? Has he been injured? Where was he right now?

But most importantly, what is he going to do now that is Leader of the Zen’in clan?

Did this mean that you were finally able to return with him? After so many days of homesickness, would you be able to see your husband in person?

…

Or… or did this just made things even worse for your family, forced to remain away until things cooled down, because you were now a bigger target?

“It’s still not safe. With Gojo-kun’s sealing… the clans have been nothing but a mess; and apparently that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There seems to be a deeper plan unfolding in the background—We still don’t know what for, but I know for sure one thing: I wouldn’t dare endanger you.”

“…Ok. I understand” You dejectedly agree, forced to remain behind as you lonely mourn the death of your friends, or the unknown fate of one of them.

Well, at least your family was relatively safe. Your siblings sustained injuries, but nothing they wouldn’t be able to heal in due time. You could only wonder the stresses your father had to deal with now that the Gojo clan was rendered nonexistent… Was someone trying to nominate Satoru’s replacement?

…

You wished you could do more. Longed to not feel as useless as you did nowadays, more so since Naoya’s messages turned to be fewer and fewer as time passed…

But at least he still responded. Took a little bit of his time to let you know that he was fine. Busy, perhaps a partial lie, but ultimately alive.

Just a matter of days and you’ll be back in his arms, with your children, and the little bundle growing inside you. Where you belonged.

Unless… fate was to cruelly decide otherwise.

“Naoya, I… haven’t heard from you in quite a while. I just… hope you’re ok and not overworking yourself. Naomi, Naori, Naoko and Naoyuki miss you. Please let me know how everything is doing as soon as you can. I love you”

…

“I don’t want to bother you, nor distract you from your duties. But I’m very worried about you Naoya, you haven’t answered any of my messages or calls. And… and I can’t shake this feeling that something horrible happened. Please answer me, Naoya, I can’t take the thought of you mot—

Just let me know if you’re ok, please. I love you.”

…

“Please, just give me a sign that you’re alive. I beg you, Naoya. I can’t take this anymore. I feel so lonely without you. I always do, but today… today it feels worse. Please, if just a letter, you don’t even have to write a whole message. Just a dot or something. Anything!

Just… anything so I can know you’re fine. Alive. Please. I beg you”

…

“Please. Please. Please. Naoya, answer me. Please. We love you.”

…

…

“Please. For our baby. Please.”

…

…

…

“…Naoya?”

Obviously I wanted to make it tragic and say that Naoya died; but how did he die? By being in Shibuya? Maybe. Maki? That means he still would've been a jerk! akjgkags

Also, I believe he didn't tell Y/N that he wasn't actually clan leader because... I don't know, pride. It's what he wanted all his life, after all! Maybe he hoped to fix that before meeting up with you again, and that's how he died :) OOF

Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this little "what if" piece. I still have another Shibuya-centric oneshot to write 😏 maybe that could add on to this one? Thankfully, the good things about these prompts is that they're not really connected to one another, they could all essentially be read individually hehe nice.

Now, thank you so much for sending in this ask; take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 28

Primal - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.4k words

It had all started when Sebastian had caught his kindred spirit sneaking out of the dorms late at night. He’d been up late reading on the common room couch when he saw her sneak by in what she thought was an undetected fashion.

He’d gotten up, carefully placing his book off to the side to follow her outside of the castle walls. She’d made her way all the way to the entrance of the Forbidden Forest before he’d revealed himself and questioned her. “Not off to naughty places in the dead of night are you? Sounds too much like something I’d do.”

She’d jumped, panic clutching at her heart as she turned to face him. Her body doing its best to process the correct action for this threat. “Oh! Sebastian! I can explain. I just…erm…”

Sebastian straightened, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk across his lips. Her resolve faltered when she took in his mussed hair and rolled sleeves. She experienced an odd sort of de ja vu as the dream she’d just woken from in her bed seemed to flash in front of her eyes.

In the dream, none other than Hogwart’s best dueling had been chasing her through the forbidden forest, causing her heart rate to skyrocket. She had woken from the dream in a sweaty heap on the bed when her dream Sebastian had pinned her to a tree and stated just how thoroughly he’d defile her against it.

Needless to say, ending up in the forbidden forest with the man who'd just taken her so lustfully in her dreams was a bit of a shock. Still in disbelief she picked the skin of her arm just to make sure she wasn't sleeping again and was somewhere between pleased and sad to realize she was indeed awake.

The pinch wasn't lost on Sebastian’s speculative eyes as they took in her lack of composure. His coffee brown orbs traced up the skin of her arms to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “What’s got you so worked up? Is everything okay?”

He’d stepped forward to comfort her and she stumbled backwards away from him to keep the distance between them. Not yet trusting enough of herself to keep her from saying or doing something stupid.

Sebastian crossed his arms again, leaning his weight all on one foot. “What's going on with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Although knowing you. Perhaps you have.”

She swallowed hard, giving a hesitant laugh as she adjusted her footing. She took a deep breath and tried to will the oxygen to process in her racing mind. “I erm, woke from a strange dream and I’m getting an odd bit of deja vu is all. Nothing to be so concerned for. I just came for a walk to clear my mind.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Hm. Yes. A calming walk in the Forbidden Forest to calm the mind in the dead of night. Sounds just like what you need. Let’s see, what was this ‘dream’ of yours about. Hm?”

She swallowed, the composure she’d just gained flying right out the window. “Oh erm, well I…hardly find it appropriate to share with a classmate.”

A dark chuckle left his mouth and he took a slow step toward her. “Ah I see. You're having dirty dreams about me and you in the Forbidden Forest then? How uncouth of you to be getting me involved in a scandal even while you sleep.”

Her mouth was far too dry to respond to him or react when he took another small step toward her. “You know, if you share what exactly happened in your dream, maybe I’ll find it in myself not to take the knowledge of your little night adventure to the headmaster. I’m sure he’d be very interested in speaking to you.”

Her eyes met his and her stomach sank as she realized he looked entirely serious. “Y-You want to hear what happened in my dream? Why?”

He shrugged, leaning his body against a nearby tree. “Call it curiosity. Call it a fantasy. Really call it whatever you like. But using your dirty dreams as fodder for my own surely sounds quite pleasant. Especially knowing what my new charge really thinks about me behind closed doors.”

She sighed, pushing the part of her that gave off every alarm bell in the book, deep, deep down inside of her and stuffing it under the wave of teenage hormones that surfaced. “W-well…in the dream you’d brought me out here to scavenge for something you’d found in a book from the restricted section. B-but in order to get the thing to show up…we had to induce the fear of the hunted.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he listened to her. “S-so you had me run and you hunted me down…and it excited me…made my adrenaline spike and you sensed it…and decided to…do something else with me as a thank you for helping you.”

He unfolded his arms, giving her a look and taking in the small details he hadn't before. The rise and fall of her chest, her pink cheeks, her thighs pressed tightly together. “So this dream, it has you quite worked up, right?”

She nodded, embarrassment flaming to life on her cheeks as she took a breath. “In truth, yes. I can’t say I’m not attracted to it. I’m sorry for dreaming such things about you but It’s not like I meant to do it.”

He grinned, stepping forward to close the gap between them. “Oh my dear. There’s no need to be sorry for the pleasurable little dreams your mind makes up. But, if for some reason you want those little dreams to come true…all you need to do is ask.”

His eyes had darkened as he said it, causing her heart rate to pick up as he stepped back and watched her fumble over her words. Next thing she knew, she was giving him a small nod, causing a satisfied growl to leave him as well as his own nod. “Run.”

She gasped, turning and immediately taking off into the Forbidden Forest. She ran, fast and faster, as hard as her legs could take her while she held her Hogwarts robes in her hands to avoid snagging or tripping over the edges of it.

She kept running, hard. She could hear his deep rumbling chuckle all around her it seemed. No matter how fast or how hard she ran. She could see him all around her. This was even better than her dream.

Her heart nearly stopped when she flicked her head forward only to halt in her tracks. Standing smugly in front of her was none other than Sebastian Sallow not looking like he’s ran for even half a minute.

Sebastian moved forwards and grasped her shoulder, twisting them so her back was placed against the tree. She had bits of twigs and leaves in her hair from the brush she’d run through and he chuckled, plucking it out of her hair.

Once he had her back pinned against the tree she stuttered uselessly over her words while he pressed her back against the bark, only protected by her school robes.

He chuckled darkly, pinning her harshly as he lifted her skirts. She moaned pleasurably as he pulled his wand, binding her to the tree with a simple spell. “Silly witch. Exerting so much energy to run with those pretty legs instead of just using magic.”

She whimpered as invisible ropes pinned her to the tree. The rough pads of Sebastian’s fingers brushed against the soft sensitive skin of her thighs as he held her skirts up. “Do you want me to fuck you against this tree darling?”

She whimpered, nodding enthusiastically. He smiled, undoing his trousers, pulling himself out and sliding her underwear to the side. “Not a very proper lady are you? Just wanting a quick and dirty fuck in forbidden places we aren’t even allowed. Such a dirty girl for me. My perfect girl.”

He plunged himself inside her heat, gritting his teeth and grunting as her soaking wet core willingly accepted him. She moaned as he filled her inch by delicious inch. Crying out when he bottomed out inside of her.

He was merciless, taking his pleasure and using her pliant body. She clenched eagerly as his hips postponed into her tightness. He fucked her hard, groaning at her walls tightening around her. “Merlin, you're so tight. Gonna cum around my cock already?”

She writhed under the invisible binds, body willing and needy as she tightened around him, moaning unabashedly. “Fuck, you really are gonna cum. That’s a good girl. Let go for me, pretty little thing.”

Her head smacked backwards against the bark as she constricted around him desperately. He practically growled in her ear as she fell apart, his own orgasm following quickly behind hers, filling her warmth as his teeth sunk deep into her neck.

Kinktober Prompt List

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XVI (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON (+ mentions of), DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, forbidden relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

You didn’t know if Pope did it on purpose or not, but you were grateful that he was sharing his location with Kie. They’d left long before you guys had noticed and were more than likely driving like a bat out of hell. As Kie sped down the road, you felt like you were on the verge of losing it.

This very thing was what you’d been trying to prevent.

You liked to think that if you’d been able to tell Pope in your own way, you could’ve talked him down. You could’ve kept him somewhat calm, but because Rafe was a smug asshole, he’d allowed Pope to figure it out in the worst way possible. Now, you were racing to stop your brother from doing something stupid, something that could get him hurt.

You would have to face Rafe again so soon, and the thought made your stomach churn.

Your gaze briefly connected with Sarah’s in the mirror, and you weren’t able to hold it for long, looking away. The look in her eyes told you that she was still thinking about what you’d confessed, and as much as she hated Rafe sometimes, you knew it broke her heart to learn that her brother was a rapist. That he was capable of something so heinous.

“Do they even know where to look?” Sarah wondered.

“They’re probably going to your house first,” Kie murmured, licking her lips. “Do you think he’d be there?”

You looked down, mind racing as you thought about how early in the day it was. It was possible he’d gone back home, but you doubted he would stay there for long.

“He’s probably with Kelce or Topper…at one of their houses. Or the club,” you quietly added.

You could feel Kie glancing at you in the mirror.

“That’s where we hung out a lot around this time.”

The atmosphere felt odd with the reminder of your history with Rafe. Not just your newly tumultuous one, but the fact that you’d been dating him, sneaking around with him for months. It had to be weird for them, especially Sarah, to be confronted with the fact that you, Pope’s little sister, knew Rafe well enough to accurately guess where he’d be.

“Can I see your phone?”

Sarah gave it to you, curiously eyeing you as you dialed a familiar number. Bunny answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” you told her, knowing she wouldn’t recognize the number, and her sharp gasp made you wince.

“Are you okay? We’ve been calling you all morning to make sure you got home okay,” she said, and you could hear Cam in the background. “I mean, Rafe told us you did, but we kind of wanted to hear it from you. You were so sick last night.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be too mad at them despite what happened. Rafe was their friend, and as far as they knew, Rafe was your friend too. Too many times he’d taken you home, looked after you. Too many times you’d actually asked him to, and you couldn’t blame them for thinking last night was no different. How were they to know when you didn’t tell them anything?

Rafe had simply tricked them too.

“Yeah, I did,” you struggled to lie, clearing your throat. “You said Rafe told you that? Last night or…?”

“God, no. He was here like fifteen minutes ago, barely stayed, only came by to get Topper and Kelce for something,” she told you. “They left, so we’re just hanging out at Kelce’s until they get back.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure to Topper’s place,” she offhandedly answered, and you got the feeling that she was distracted by something. “He mentioned something about stopping by there first.”

In the quiet car, Bunny’s voice could be heard, and Kie took a sharp turn, Sarah telling her where to go. You didn’t stay on the phone longer, and when Kie finally slowed near a familiar house, you bit your lip at the sight of a familiar truck.

“Well, now what? They’re not here,” Sarah commented.

“I don’t think they even know where Topper lives, so maybe they won’t even get here in time,” Kie assured you.

You liked to believe that, and you played with your fingers in the backseat. The car was quiet and oh so tense, and as you looked up at the house again, there was a part of you that wanted to go in there and beg Rafe not to hurt Pope. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to, and again, you thought about his so called love for you. If he did, there was no way he could ever hurt Pope, knowing how much it would hurt you, and you swallowed down a sigh.

It was after a while when you frowned, a concerning thought popping into your head.

“Kie…”

Your gazes met in the mirror as she hummed.

“Do you and Pope share your locations with each other?”

There was a brief pause, both of the girls in the front seat coming to the same conclusion you just did. Kie cursed, quickly fumbling for her phone and hurrying to stop sharing it with Pope. You heard Sarah release a shaky breath, and you looked around, worried.

“Shit,” Sarah mumbled. “They’re going to know exactly why you’re at Topper’s, Jesus.”

The worry you felt before only increased as you accepted that this was happening. Sooner than you would’ve ever wanted, but Rafe and Pope were going to be face to face again, and this time it wouldn’t end as nicely as it had at John B.’s. Pope was going to get hurt, there was no doubt about that, and it wasn’t because you had more faith in Rafe or something.

While Rafe had more to lose than Pope did, he also had the security to keep it all. Anything could happen out here, and if both were arrested, only one was probably getting off Scott free because of his daddy’s money. If Pope was the one to seriously hurt Rafe, Rafe could tell the police whatever he wanted. Rafe was the only one in a position to walk away from this unscathed, and you blinked back tears.

Not to mention, you didn’t think Pope had it in him to seriously hurt anyone.

Rafe did. He’d proven that many times over.

“I think I should talk to him.”

The reactions at your suggestion were instantaneous.

“No!”

“Are you crazy?”

They were both looking back at you with varying degrees of fear and indignation on their faces.

“Y/N, you’re not going anywhere near my brother…ever again,” Sarah fiercely told you. “Not if I can help it.”

“Kie,” you softly said, looking at her. “Rafe has already hurt Pope because of me. He’ll do it again, and you know he will.”

She took a deep breath, shaking her head.

“Pope would die before letting you near Rafe ever again, and you know it-.”

“…and that’s what I’m scared of! How do you think I would feel if something happened to him because of me?”

“…and how do you think he would feel if something happened to you because of him?”

You sat back in your seat with a huff, attention drawn to movement. All three of you looked over as Kelce, Topper, and Rafe exited the house. You watched them pile into his truck, and you frowned slightly, wondering where they were going. As they pulled out of the driveway, you felt a sense of relief that Pope and the others wouldn’t be catching up to them today.

However, that relief died out when a familiar van drove by, following after Rafe’s truck.

“Shit,” Kie whispered, quickly starting her car and following the van.

You didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t take long for them to notice the van behind the truck, following them, and you seriously wondered if Rafe wanted to do this at The Island Club or something. John B. wasn’t picking up the phone, and Kie huffed when Pope followed the same pattern. Even JJ didn’t answer when Sarah called, and you knew they were determined to see this through, not wanting to be talked out of it.

When you realized that Rafe was heading towards the beach, your nervousness grew. You didn’t know what he had in mind, what he could possibly be thinking. Rafe was always unpredictable that way, something you’d come to learn, and it was partially why you were in the situation that you were in. It was a colder day, so not many people were around, but there was just a handful of people at the beach to make you worried.

Sarah gave you a look as they parked, and begrudgingly, you stayed put.

You worriedly looked out of the window, watching as Pope wasted no time before hopping out of John B.’s van. The absolute amusement on Rafe’s face as he turned to look at Pope worried you, and your stomach twisted painfully when Pope punched him square across the jaw. The reason for your worry reared its ugly head when Rafe slammed into your brother, and you sat up when they both fell to the ground.

It was hard to see with everyone crowding around, trying to break them apart or keep anyone else out of it, you didn’t know. When you looked around the beach, the few people on it were either walking away, opting to stay out of it, or watching from afar. You didn’t like this, sitting in the car while your brother and ex-boyfriend fought, having to rely on someone else to make sure Pope didn’t get hurt.

You could see Kelce and JJ fighting, now, and you swallowed when your eyes landed on John B. and Topper fighting too, Sarah trying to talk sense into them. You felt like things were getting out of control, and when you looked over to see Kie with her arm around Rafe’s neck, you realized why. Your lips parted as you realized he was on top of Pope, and with one harsh shove of his arm, Kie fell back onto the ground. You winced, and silently asking Sarah to forgive you, you stumbled out of the car.

You watched as Pope shoved Rafe off of him, forcing the blond to stumble to his feet, and you found yourself in between them just as he raised his fist.

Your eyes were wide as they met his, and you watched the anger in his blue eyes simmer down some. Your breathing was heavy, realizing just how close he’d been to hitting you instead, and Rafe’s nostrils flared as he stared you down. You could hear Pope groaning behind you as he struggled to stand, and to your delight, Rafe looked worse for wear too. You took in the blood on his face and the nasty bruising under his eye. If you hadn’t stepped in, you were sure they would’ve killed each other.

Rafe pulled his lip between his teeth as he looked you over, and you swallowed at the wide range of emotions that passed over his features. Pope was standing, now, and you could feel him touch your arm. Rafe’s gaze snapped to him over your shoulder, and you stumbled back just as Rafe moved forward, Pope at your back as you remained in between them.

You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe, and when his gaze met yours again, he bitterly chuckled through his nose. Relenting, he dropped his hand, keeping his even stare on you. He tilted his head to the side, reaching up to wipe some blood from under his nose as he ran his eyes over you from head to toe. You didn’t miss the way they heatedly lingered on his shirt that you were still wearing.

“Beautiful.”

Pope tried to get past you, but you moved with him.

“Don’t call her that,” he spat from behind you, and you kept your hand on his arm.

Every time he tried to get in front of you, you prevented him from doing so. It didn’t make sense for Pope to take the brunt of what was meant for you. It was you that Rafe wanted, you who he was mad at, and you pressed your lips together. Rafe hadn’t even been bothered by Pope’s outburst, azure eyes on you the whole time.

“Rafe,” you hesitantly started, tone pleading. “Go home.”

He blinked, pink lips curving upwards just a tad.

“Why would I do that? I’m having too much fun,” he drawled.

“Rafe, please. Go. Home.”

His smirk fell then, and the cold look he gave you made you shudder.

“Make me,” he challenged, and you swallowed. “You know what’ll make me leave, right now.”

Again, you prevented Pope from getting around you at that, tears kissing your eyes as you and Rafe stared each other down. He looked at Pope again, and the glint in his gaze had your heart skipping a beat. You could still hear Pope’s friends fighting Rafe’s with the exception of Kie who’d been worriedly watching this standoff.

Before anyone could react though, Rafe’s hand had snapped around your wrist, yanking you against him with his other hand twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck.

You kept your eyes on him, but you could see Pope frozen out of the corner of your eye, too scared to do anything with you literally in Rafe’s hold. The sudden yelp you’d let out and the way Pope yelled drew everyone’s attention, but you and Rafe only had eyes for each other as he glared at you. You winced at the sting in your scalp, and Rafe frowned slightly at that.

“Rafe,” Topper called, tone nervous, clearly not okay with the turn of events.

“We’re just talking,” he loudly said, voice lowering a bit when he addressed you. “Right…?”

You blinked back tears.

“Go home, Rafe,” you whispered, and he let out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah? What will you give me if I do?”

You took a deep breath, shaking.

“We broke up,” you reminded him. “…and everything you’ve done since then is show me why I should’ve broken up with you a long time ago.”

Rafe’s face fell a bit at that, and you watched him swallow.

“You were happy with me,” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. “You can be again.”

You started to shake your head, bit his tight grip had you flinching.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, leaning in. “I messed up-.”

“Too many times,” you choked out, reaching up to try and pry his hand off. “Rafe, go home.”

He finally let your hair go, but only so he could thread his fingers through yours, and you stepped back, trying to get away. Pope moved closer, reaching for you, and that was when Rafe snapped his gaze to your brother. They stared each other down, and if looks could kill, Rafe would be six feet under. You watched his jaw tick, and when he finally looked at you, he roughly let you go, almost flinging you away from him.

“Go,” he simply said.

Pope reached for you, and you took a step away from your ex-boyfriend. The glint in his eyes didn’t match the even expression on his face, and you hesitated. You watched him with a nervous frown as Pope to your arm.

“By all means,” Rafe said, gesturing with his hand. “Go…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, unable to trust him one bit, and you exhaled through your nose, gaze pleading.

“Rafe…”

“What?” he chuckled. “Go.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and Pope finally spoke.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re gonna go, and you’re going to press charges against that son of a bitch.”

Pope’s voice was low, but Rafe heard him all the same. There was a sinister grin on his face as he looked at Pope before resting his gaze on you again.

“Oh…? Is that what she’s going to do?”

“Yes,” Pope spat.

“Rafe, please,” Sarah spoke up, begging him. “Stop this.”

“Is that what you’re gonna do, beautiful?” the blond wondered, reaching for your face when you slapped his hand away.

“Yes, she is,” Pope hissed, stepping past you.

Rafe didn’t even look at him, and your brows drew together as he stared into your eyes.

“You’re going to press charges against me?” he sweetly wondered, tilting his head. “Hmm?”

Pope looked between you two, growing more worried by the second. He said your name, but you didn’t respond, watching as Rafe’s expression shifted, a vicious sneer on his lips as he stared you down.

“I will bury you and your entire family, and you know it,” he nastily said. “When we’re done with you, you’ll be lucky if your dad can get a cent in this town.”

Pope shoved him, but Rafe didn’t care, staring you down with cruelest look you’d ever seen.

“Ward-.”

“Dad may not like me all that much, but he’s not going to let his only son go to jail,” Rafe drawled, cutting Sarah off as he chuckled at her. “You and I both know that. Especially with the kind of slander she’d be throwing on the Cameron name?”

He blew out a breath, shaking his head, and tears finally spilled over.

“Your sister’s a lot of things, Pope,” Rafe paused, licking his lips. “A lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.”

Pope had Rafe’s shirt clenched in his fists.

“Do not talk to her, do not even talk about her-.”

“It’s a little late for that,” he said, shoving Pope off of him. “Was it you who drove her to take care of our little bundle of joy? Or one of her dumb ass friends?”

You were frozen as Pope punched him again, John B. and JJ moving to break them up along with Kelce and Topper. You could feel Kie’s hand on your arm, but you couldn’t move, Rafe’s words bouncing around in your head. Even when they finally got them apart and Pope was pulling you towards the van, you couldn’t think about anything else but Rafe and what he’d said.

You looked over your shoulder, and you shuddered when his smug gaze connected with yours.

You hadn’t spoken all the way back to your house, deep in thought and feeling overwhelmed. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you now and then, especially Pope who hadn’t left your side. Rafe’s words just wouldn’t get out of your head, and you held back tears.

“You’re going to press charges, right?”

You blinked at Pope’s question, licking your lips.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you honestly answered.

His eyes had bulged, looking at you like you were crazy before his face fell, gaze sympathetic.

“Don’t listen to him,” he whispered. “You know pop’s will be alright.”

Even he didn’t sound like he believed that.

Ward Cameron was the king of the Kooks, possessing the kind of money and influence that even other Kooks wished they had. His name went far around here, and Rafe was right. No matter how much they clashed, Ward wasn’t just going to stand by and let you throw dirt on his son’s name, on the Cameron name. No matter how true it was.

“I need to think,” you choked out, standing in front of the house, now.

It was late, and Pope had already called to tell your parents that you’d both been hanging out at John B.’s. You hated how happy your mom had sounded at that, pleased to see her children bonding. Pope glanced at Kie at that, the other girl driving you both home and opting to stay over. Your mom loved Kie, so there was no doubt in your mind she’d be okay with it.

Pope pressed his lips together at your words, and you could tell that he knew Rafe’s promise was getting to you. Promise, not a threat. When you dragged yourself inside, Kie spoke up about coming with you, but you assured her that you needed a moment alone. You could feel her worried gaze on you, no doubt thinking about what you hadn’t told Pope.

In this moment, more than anything, you wanted a shower.

Rafe’s essence was still on your skin, and you contemplated burning this shirt as soon as it was off. When your door clicked behind you, the tears finally spilled over, the events of last night and today catching up to you. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to quiet your cries.

You truly and utterly had no idea what to do.

When you made to grab some clothes, you glanced at your window, noticing it was unlocked, and you hurried to lock it back. You cursed to yourself, remembering your intent to sneak in last night after the party. Only, you never did, because you never came back.

As much as you needed to really think this over, it was too much. More than anything, you needed to shower and rest. Your problems weren’t going anywhere, and you could give yourself a night to forget about what was still going to be there in the morning. You could hear your mom welcoming Kie as they talked in the hall, and you sat your clothes down on the counter.

One look in the mirror had you gasping.

You hadn’t seen your face all day, and you were grateful more than ever that neither of your parents saw you come in. You frowned, staring at the dark coloring on your face in disgust. Hesitantly, you reached up, and you flinched when the tips of your fingers touched your skin. You were reminded of everything that happened last night, and you resisted the urge to cry.

After washing your face, you decided to search for some cream or something to put on it. You couldn’t find much that would help, and you contemplated leaving your room to ask Pope. You didn’t need either of your parents questioning your face, and you weren’t going to put on pounds of makeup just to leave your room for five minutes. Deciding that ice would have to do, you slammed the drawer shut.

…and looked up to meet Rafe’s gaze in the mirror.

All of your breath left you, and before you could get it back, his hand covered your mouth. His other arm snaked it’s way around you, and your fingers scraped at the counter as he pushed you forward. You could feel his heart beating as his chest pressed to your back, and his lips grazed your ear.

He softly shushed you, nose brushing your bruised skin.

“Don’t scream,” he gently told you. “You know…you know I’ll do whatever I have to.”

He didn’t need to remind you, blinking as you remembered him and Pope fighting at the beach. When Rafe took a step back, you were forced to follow, and your tears collected on his hand. He kept making sounds that you were sure was meant to be soothing, but they only made you shake more. When he neared your door, your worry grew, but you only swallowed when he softly told you to lock it.

Reluctantly, you did.

“You know I’m not a liar,” he whispered, guiding you towards your bed.

Your heart sank, and you shifted in his hold, but he held you tight.

“You know my dad will do whatever it takes to keep the Cameron name clean,” he murmured, and when he let you go, you reached back.

His hand fisted in the back of your shirt, and he pushed you down, one hand still on your mouth. You were shaking as he pressed himself against you, and the relief you felt at his loosening hand was only short-lived when it slid down to your throat, squeezing tight. You let out a choked gasp, reaching up, a struggle as Rafe was pushing his entire weight down on you.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he quietly told you. “I gave you chance after chance to come back to me…didn’t I?”

When it was clear he expected an answer, you nodded.

“Now…now I have to resort to playing dirty,” he sounded disappointed by the thought. “Now, I have to make sure you won’t get away.”

Rafe wasn’t making any sense, and if it wasn’t for the lack of the smell of alcohol, you would think he was drunk. There was the possibility he was high though, and one of your hands reached out to pull at the sheets, a sob leaving you as you felt him push his shirt up your thighs. You could hear him fumbling between you, and you tried to push yourself up.

Your nails tore at your bedding when he thrust into you, the action painful and making you attempt to move away. Your toes curled, and Rafe shushed you again, jerking into you as you fought to breathe. He leaned down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, and with every thrust, his hand grew tighter and tighter, pulling you away from consciousness inch by inch.

You hated how slick you could feel yourself becoming, and your nails dig into his hand as he pushed his cock into you.

“We both know you’re mine, beautiful,” he breathed, your hearing starting to fade. “…and soon enough, everyone in this town will know it too.”

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ok my friend Imma gonna hit you up for some more 😜 Fic Roulette!!!

1. 6 and 16

2. 10 and 39!

Hehehe, I'm almost afraid to ask but yes, Hunter 😂

You did marvelous on the last ones! Can't wait to see what you'll do with these!!!

Ohhhh sweet @dragonrider9905 You thought you could stump me huh? Well you almost did. LOL. Just kidding.

I hope you enjoy both stories. This is 6 and 16.

Love oo,

Not Your Fault

Warnings: Feelings of guilt, mentions of death, fluff, grief, sadness, I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Omega laughed as you tried to do a fishtail braid, “Sorry,  hun, I’m doing my best here, but it’s coming out a little …” you scrunch your face as you look at your handiwork, “Let’s just say if this was a real fish’s tail, this fish would be dead. Do you mind if I start over?”

“No. Go ahead.” She answered with patience and love, just happy to spend time with you.

“Alright.” 

So you set to remake the fishtail, yet, no matter how hard you tried, the tails didn’t look even or how Omega wanted them, and she couldn’t stop laughing, “Omega,” you laughed unable to hold back, “I’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still.”

It was about another hour when you had finally managed to get the tails to look like tails and to make them even enough they wouldn’t embarrass her, make her look odd or like a crazy person. She ran around telling her brothers about her fishtails and showing them off. 

You chuckled to yourself, slowly following her footsteps. However, you stopped midstep, your eyes focusing on Hunter sitting in his patio chair looking out over the water. There was a near blank expression on his face, yet his eyes held all his emotions. It broke your heart seeing him so … lost? Guilt-ridden? Maybe it was just overwhelming grief.  

After all, it hadn’t been long since Omega and Crosshair came back. Frankly, you were happy to have them back, especially after losing Tech. Everyone on Pabu felt his loss, and getting to know Crosshair had been challenging at first, yet Hunter somehow took on the responsibility of making sure Crosshair got along with everyone.

As each day progressed, the emotions in Hunter’s eyes were slowly becoming more and more overwhelming. It wasn’t hard to see he was still learning how to move on without Tech. How to live his life without his brother. 

You’ve suffered more than your fair share of losses, and you knew how difficult it was to just start living again. To start putting yourself back together without having that support you relied on so heavily. If anything, Hunter needed a friend first and foremost right now. 

Not wanting to disrupt his peace too much, you did what you could as you quietly walked over and sat beside him. 

Hunter didn’t flinch or react as you took your seat, he knew you were there, but he’d rather focus on the horizon, at the moment.

It was almost half an hour later, when you finally spoke up, “You okay? Caught you staring off into space again.”

His face turned to look at you, doing his best to give you a smile, even if it was half hearted. 

“I’m fine.”

It had been his go-to response lately. Everything was either ‘I’m fine,’ ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘I’m just tired.’ Honestly, you had to keep reminding yourself not to get upset with him, he and his family had been through a lot. More than most families and it didn’t help if all you were going to do was nag him. 

So you did what needed to be done. Find a way to get him talking. Whether you two would still remain friends after this conversation, was yet to be seen. But he needed this, whether he admitted it or not. 

“It’s not your fault you know,” you rested your clasped hands on the table as you looked at him.

“What’s not?”

“Losing Tech, Omega getting captured or even Crosshair choosing to stay with Empire for as long as he did before leaving them.”

He let out a vexed noise, “It is.”

“It’s not.” You told him emphatically. 

“You weren’t there.” 

His eyes narrowed as you talked about the unspoken topic that was never to be mentioned between the two of you. He knew you cared, it was evident by how you took care of them. Ever since they moved into the house beside yours, you were quick to offer any assistance. Helping Omega, cooking dinner, even giving a listening ear to whoever needed it and keeping what you had learned to yourself. 

However, he didn’t want you to be tainted with his failures. He wanted you to remain separate. 

“You’re right.” You nodded, as your eyes focused on the sunset, “I wasn’t there, but you know who was?” I turned to look at him and smiled, “Wrecker, Omega, Echo and Tech. I’ve spoken with Wrecker, Omega and Echo, and each one of them said Tech made a choice. It was a difficult situation and it was either he delayed the inevitable and you all got captured or killed, or … he’d make the ultimate sacrifice to ensure his family survived.” 

You reached over and took Hunter’s hand in yours, “Considering who Tech … was, do you think he would’ve been happy knowing you would’ve been captured because of him?”

He shook his head, as he let out a choked laugh, “No. No, he would’ve made us go over the scenario a thousand times to make sure we never let that happen again, and then he would’ve come up with a plan to enforce that.”

“And would he have blamed you for going to the outpost you went just to find information on Crosshair?”

“No. He … he was the first one to suggest it.”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his hand, “Then would it be right to say it was your fault? I mean Tech made the ultimate sacrifice for his family, that’s commendible and honourable. Don’t cheapen his sacrifice with your guilt.”

Hunter let out a long sigh as his free hand ran down his face, “If only it were that easy.”

“I know, it’s easy for someone like me … an outsider … to look in and tell you what you need to do; but as the person who lived it,” you smiled as you looked at him, “… you can just tell me to shut up and just hold your hand.” 

A small smile of understanding appeared on your face as you offered it to Hunter. 

“I’d never tell you to shut up.”

“Maybe I haven’t irritated you enough, yet.” You looked into his eyes letting him know you were there, as you squeezed his hand, “Hunter, nothing that happened was your fault. Omega getting captured was as Echo put it ‘an overwhelming amount of force.’ Crosshair choosing to join the Empire was no more your fault, than him choosing to leave the Empire.” You reached over brushing his hair back and tucking it behind his ear, as you cupped his cheek. “You can’t take on people’s choices or circumstances beyond your control, simply because you’re a Sergeant, or were a Sergeant. Life gives you no karking choice but to play the cards you’re dealt, and I for one, am glad you guys found your way into my life.”

He leaned into your hand holding it against his cheek, “Your friendship means more to me than you know.”

You smiled as you looked into his eyes, “I know. Your friendship means a lot too. Just … promise me, you’ll talk to me when you’re letting your emotions overwhelm you. If not me, at least someone. Please?”

“Alright, mesh’la. I promise.”

Hunter’s smile grew as he kept looking at you, even as you pulled your hand away. He’d been holding off on telling you how he felt for so long. However, he couldn’t hold back anymore, he was going to tell you.

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to tell me what mesh-a-la means.”

“I will,” he leaned forward, keeping your hand in his, “I promise.”

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heres an idea what if ford and his infant baby BOTH got sucked into the portal? How would ford cope with jumping across the multiverse while trying to raise his child?

I’m going to assume the reader is the baby, so this fic is obviously platonic from here on out.

The man gets grey stress hairs at like 23/25 (no clue how old he is when he got sucked into the portal but I’m going to assume for this)

Ford didn’t mind if it was just him that got pulled into the multiverse, he would’ve found a way to handle it but being in a multiverse full of potential dangers with you, his child? The man is doing everything he can to set you up to survive and one day escape the multiverse and go home, regardless if it’s with or without him.

Ford is putting you first and foremost as you were the future, his legacy and his protege.

It was a daunting task to not only try and survive the multiverse but also dedicate time to raising his own kid, it was taxing on both an emotional and physical level for Ford as he made sure you were kept warm and well fed as possible while leaning himself with little to nothing, but he didn’t mind because as long as you had everything you needed to grow and be strong, that’s all that matters to Ford.

You grew up traveling with bandits, learning to speak 13 languages, read ancient texts, become royalty when Ford was king of the finger dimension for a brief period of time, only for a seven fingered man to take the crown and becoming a wanted criminal in multiple dimensions before you were even twelve. Your childhood was far from a normal one as your memories of home were mainly from stories Ford told you about at night when you were both sat near the fire.

It saddened Ford to know that you viewed home a lot differently than you did the multiverse but he couldn’t blame you. You had near enough spent most of your developmental years running from dimension to dimension, aiding rebellions and surviving say to say that if you both were to ever get home, Ford knew you’d be out of your element as all you’ve ever known was the multiverse and him.

This thought occurred to Ford on many occasions that he blames himself for ever letting you get dragged into this mess because if you didn’t then maybe you could’ve grown up with Stanley and lived a perfectly normal life. You were robbed of a childhood you could look back on in fondness and Ford couldn’t help but believe himself to be the cause as he stays up to watch over you, seeing his child mentally grow up faster then you should be allowed for your age broke his aging heart.

Would you be ridiculed for being weird if you were to ever go home much like he was as a kid? If so then he’d much rather stay in the multiverse for your sake rather than his own.

You had been through a lot and seen more then a child your age should and while Ford will forever be proud of the person you had become. His only wish was that you got to at least experience a portion of your life back home before all this, just so that you didn’t look at everything so weirdly and so alien.

Ford knew that sometimes there will be moments where there’s a disconnect between you two, something he had to accept that as the truth instead of trying to logically fix it, and instead try to meet you halfway in a comforting manner when you start to think that you were too weird for home as you sat on the rooftop of the shack.

‘Won’t Mabel and dipper find me…odd?’ You asked.

‘No of course not sweetheart, they love you and see you as their cool older relative they can trust to keep them safe and happy and seen.’ Ford reassured you with a pat on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ‘You’ll be loved, so loved my little sharpshooter. I promise.’ He adds as he sees you yawn and instinctively brought you into his side, once again watching over you as you slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.

While Ford hated that you had practically been raised in the multiverse but he couldn’t help but be proud of who you’ve become when you pointed out a flaw in his plans for the quantum destabiliser weapon that he had overlooked. You were going to be okay, Ford knew it.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

So Much More

Summary: Choi Chanhee and everything you thought you knew about him: he was so much more. 

Oneshot

Fluff, Friends to Lovers au 

Word Count: 2,202

Chanhee (New) X Reader

------

There were a lot of things you thought you knew about Choi Chanhee. And something you thought you knew was that he hated affection. He’d always avoid it, giving everyone a side eye as he did. So why was he wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a back hug? And why did you find yourself sinking into his hold? Why were you cherishing something as small as this? And why did you want more? You hope he can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest as he rests his chin on your shoulder, just resting on you. You were sure you’d fall in love with him if he kept this up. But the worst part was, you were already in love with him. You just weren’t sure when it all started. 

Maybe it all started when he laughed at a joke you told him. Or when you confided in him how all your last relationships went wrong, he put his hand over yours and assured you that not all relationships were bound for ruin. But none of those reasons ever felt right. Maybe you had loved him since the moment you met him. You just never had the right words to express it. You relax further into his hold that he still hasn’t released you from. And you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to let go because you wanted the opposite. You always wanted more. When it came to Choi Chanhee, you wanted him desperately and all the time. You were in love with him like a sick puppy.

It was odd. You never felt this way about anyone before. You’ve been in relationships before. But none where you wanted to be wrapped up in the person endlessly. Where you felt like you couldn’t get enough of them, as if your world was spinning around them. As you think about how you like the odd feeling, he starts to let go, “Sorry, I just thought you looked sad, so…” You turn back to him, “No, it was fine. I didn’t mind.” There were so many things about Choi Chanhee that you didn’t know that you wanted to learn. You wanted to know more than just his favorite color and skincare routine. You wanted to know how he liked his coffee in the morning and how it felt to hold his hand. But those were words you couldn’t express, at least to him. He nods at you and moves to go over to your shared friends. 

They’re wolf-whistling for some reason, and you roll your eyes at them. They were always dramatic, but you bet part of the reason was that they knew about your feelings for Choi Chanhee. You sigh to yourself as you reminisce about his hold. You were supposed to be having fun at this party, and instead, here you were thinking about your feelings for him, making you look sad. But you’d look sad every moment if it meant he’d hold you again. But that’s not how he works and that was a one-time deal. At least, that’s how you think he works. Your friends start waving you over, and you shake your head as you head over to them. They’re beginning their drinking games, and you can’t help but laugh as you partake in them. 

Drunken Chanhee is a rare occasion to see. Mostly because the eleven of you would try to prevent him from getting drunk; he would be way too silly. And here he is all loose, hanging onto Changmin and you, trying to get his grip on reality. You laugh at him, and he pouts, “Why are you laughing at me, baby?” He’s never called you baby. And it nearly has you sobering up as you gulp. Why was he calling you as such? And what could you do to get him to call you that name more? You shrug, “Cause you’re silly, Chanhee.” And he shoves his head into your bicep, “No, I’m not…” You grin there’s your Chanhee, well kind of. “Yes, you are… Min, you wanna help me help him to his room?” Changmin nods, and Chanhee swats at him, “No… I only want (Y/n) helping me.” You both raise your eyebrows at him. And Changmin shrugs as he gestures for you to take Chanhee. You do, and you help him to his room. 

He truly mystified you. You didn’t know what to do. You never knew what he was going to do next. You always thought you had him figured out, but as he nuzzles his head into your arm, wrapping around you tighter. He leaves you further and further confused, but you can’t get enough of it. You chaste yourself, reminding yourself over and over that this is just drunken Chanhee behavior. He’s just looser with his affection, that’s all. But maybe he finally felt free to show all his affection with lower inhibitions. You shake your head at that thought as you lead him to his room. You unlock his door, and he holds you tighter, “You won’t leave, right?” You blink at him; this has got to be some kind of a sick joke. Why is he all over you tonight?

You shrug, trying to stay unaffected, “I guess not?” He looks deeply into your eyes and asks, “You promise?” You nod as you promise him, and he giggles, kissing your cheek, “Good.” You must be redder than a fire hydrant now. You can’t believe the turn of events. Everything you thought you knew about him was crumbling. You pinch yourself. Maybe you’re the one who had too much alcohol. You lead him to bed and help him under the blankets. As you sit down in his desk chair, he whines. And you have to be insane at this point. There was no way he just whined. “(N/n)!” You blink at him, and he’s pouting. Oh yeah, this has got to be a dream. You wipe your eyes harshly with your hands, trying to get your mind straight, and when you open them again, you see he’s still pouting, “Are you not going to join me?” You look at him like he has three heads. And he pats the bed next to him, “Come on… I’m lonely.” Yeah, this has to be someone else. There is no way this is Choi Chanhee. He whines again, and you decide, if this isn’t Choi Chanhee, that you’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow. Because if you’re receiving his affection and a sweetened version of him. You were taking the risks. 

You scramble up from the chair, and he lifts the blanket beside him. And he grins as he wraps his arms around you, “Was that so hard?” Oh, someone must have spiked the punch; this is insane. But you easily accept his affection and let him snuggle into you. You sigh as he finally closes his eyes. And you whisper, “What happened to my Choi Chanhee… Why are you acting so affectionately, huh?” You run your fingers through his curls, and he giggles, “You weren’t getting my hints before…” Your eyebrows raise at that, “Huh?” And he opens his eyes, locking them on yours, “I like you… I like you a lot.” You blink at him, “How much did I drink?” He doesn’t reply to that; rather, he tells you, “I mean it…” You pinch yourself again and find this isn’t a dream. “Oh… You do?” And he sighs, “Have for a while…” You whisper, “I’ve liked you for a while too.” And he cheekily replies, “I know.” And with that, he curls into you, nuzzling his head into your chest to fall asleep. You’re positive that tomorrow, when you wake up, this will all be a dream, and Choi Chanhee will return to his usual self. 

You wake up and find Chanhee still wrapped around you. And you’re starting to think pinches aren’t working, and you need to smack yourself awake from this dreamland. When you see he’s blinking his eyes awake, you ask, “How… How much do you remember from last night?” He looks at you softly, “Everything.” You look at him in question, and he holds your hand in his own. “I told you I liked you, and you told me you liked me too.” You better wake up from this dream soon. There’s no way this is your Choi Chanhee. He must be a changeling or something. When you look at him like he’s lost his mind, he asks, “Did you not mean it?” He pouts, and you shake your head, “No… I meant it. But I just? You’re… I don’t know… You’re being so affectionate with me... And I? I don’t know how to process this.” He laughs, “I knew you weren’t getting my signs before, so…” “You decided to be affectionate?” He nods, and you sigh, “You didn’t have to change yourself for me…” He shakes his head, “No, I’m affectionate… Just subtly, and I save almost all my affection for you.” You blink at him, “But why?” He laughs, “I think I already told you the answer.” You hum as you smile, “I’d like to hear it again.” He giggles and kisses your forehead, “I like you. That’s why I wanted you in my bed. That’s why I held you. That’s why I only wanted you last night.” You hide your face in his chest as he talks, just taking it all in. This wasn’t the Choi Chanhee you knew because, you had him all figured wrong. And before today, he was your friend and only your friend. And now you mumble into his chest, “Does this mean we’re dating?” He giggles, “I hope so.” You look up and see him smiling, and he runs his fingers through your hair. And you whisper, “Okay.” 

How wrong you were to think he hated affection. Choi Chanhee, in love, was more than affectionate. He was subtle before with his little touches and sweet words. And now, knowing that hugs and kisses made you a blushing mess. He was keen on surprising you with them, your reactions leaving him in fits of giggles every time he did. Sure, he wasn’t that affectionate in front of others, but everyone knew you were together just by a passing glance. It wasn't just because of your matching outfits either, but it was how you looked at each other as if you were each other’s whole world. Choi Chanhee in love is everything you dreamed of and more. You learned everything you wanted to and more. He was everything you ever fell for and ten times more. You loved him like a sick puppy. And he loved you like a cat seeking out his favorite human, always wanting to be a part of your world. 

You could both be doing something separate, but suddenly, he was there wanting you and only you. He’d invade your space until your attention was only on him, wanting to talk about everything and nothing with you. And you couldn’t get enough of his arms around you. As much as your affection was changing for him, his was changing for yours. You became more accustomed to quality time and finding happiness in the time you spent together in conversation or silence. Like sharing a cup of joe together in the morning or a pizza in the evening, everything was together and comfortable. And he grew to love you curled up into his side, finding comfort in all of your holds. The feel of his hand in yours was just as lovely as you had dreamed but even better because he’d initiate it knowing you loved it. You couldn’t get enough of each other in your own ways. As much as you’d seek out his affection, he sought after your time. And slowly, you found yourself seeking out his time as he found himself seeking your affection. And from there, you learned he was right. Not all relationships were bound for ruin. Some were bound to build empires and last for eternities. And that’s exactly what you and Choi Chanhee had. A relationship people wish they had, one that was built on a silly drunken confession.

Chanhee would later confess he was only a little tipsy that night and had exaggerated it. And you’d gasp, “What!? That whole time?!” He nodded, “I just knew I wouldn’t have the courage to do it without anything in my system. Turns out it only took one drink for me to act.” You laughed as you kissed him, “You dork, I love you.” And you did. You loved Choi Chanhee just as much, if not more than he loved you. But he’d argue that he’d loved you most. Choi Chanhee was much more than you ever dreamed or thought he was. He was everything in between, an overflowing cup of everything you wished for and that much more. And the best part is you get to call him yours. You love him dearly, more than anyone you’ve ever loved before. And he loved you. He told you every day, even in his subtle ways. 

Choi Chanhee, a man who mystified you, was all yours.