#instant win as everyone leaves

[squided]

I don't know if someone posted this a long time ago and that's why I know about it or it was cause I researched it myself but I haven't seen it around so I'm gonna post The Worlds Stinkiest Molecule

[trickbxbes]

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʏ

[ᴅᴀᴇ ʜᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Summary: After the Mingle game, your friends win the vote and get to go home. You reunite with Dae-Ho on the outside and finally get to go on that date.

Warnings: Eventual smut, friends to lovers speedrun, fem reader, switch! Dae-Ho, handjobs, mutual blowjobs, fingering, p in v, safe sex, I don’t know what happens to them right after they vote to leave. Only what happens after,

Word Count: 3,769 words

You couldn’t believe it, was it too good to be true? 51 votes for X, 49 votes for O. Everyone around you on your side cheered, wept with joy and relief. The nightmare was over. And you wouldn’t go home empty handed either. 300 million was enough for you to clear your debt, finally start over.

And maybe, not alone.

You feel arms wrap around you tightly, shaking you like a Ragdoll. It was Dae-Ho. The two of you had formed a bond since being in here. The friendship was instant. His bright and bubbly personality pulling you in like a moth to a flame. Only, there was no pain. He looked out for you every step of the way. You were inseparable. The two of you even arranging a date of sorts once on the outside. You remember how he asked too, the boy was nervous, prepared to laugh the idea off painfully if rejected.

In disbelief, you slowly wrap your arms back around the man. Everything fell silent to your ears. Dae-Ho screams out with joy alongside his mentor, Jung-Bae, before looking at you again. He had the brightest of grins on his face. He cupped the sides of your face briefly, so happy, he could kiss you.

Could.

He lets go of your face after tenderly gazing into your eyes. You step forward and tightly hug him close, finally allowing everything to process. You were going home. You were safe.

Dae-Ho’s also overwhelmed with emotion, embracing you close. His hand gently pets the back of your hair, pressing his head against it. His heart was soaring with relief, and care, knowing you’d be okay.

“We did it…”

He murmured. You’re barely able to hear him through the cheers. “Yeah… we’re going home.” You chuckle weakly.

But the world wouldn’t grant you a moment of peace, no, not for a second.

“Please line up, you will be escorted out in an orderly fashion the same way you were brought in.”

It all came crashing down. You were leaving, now. You and Dae-Ho break apart quick at the realization. Guards were already pouring in. There’s so much you wanted to say, goodbyes you had to give! Team O did something helpful for once though, they bought you time as they started to argue against this.

“W-we’re leaving now…?!”

You see more guards taking control of the situation. People were being separated. You look to Dae-Ho, who was just as unsure and panicked. But then he visibly lightens up with realization.

“The korean barbecue place I told you about! Meet me there in two days! Noon!”

He tried to reach out to you, but the crowd began to push. You felt your anxiety beginning to slow at his request. You didn’t have his phone number, or his address, hell, you didn’t even know what area he lived in, but that was a start. You nod vigorously.

“O-Okay! I’ll see you there!”

A relived smile befalls Dae-Ho, knowing he at least got that out before he’s ushered away.

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Two days passed, and you were at the place to be. It was a tough, settling back. You swore you’d never see the light of day again. Waking up on a cold street while half naked wasn’t exactly a pleasurable experience. Neither was choking out a card in your mouth, but alas. But you got your shit sorted, and now you were here.

Only issue now was, you didn’t know what time to arrive! You wanted to play it safe and meet a little early, wearing your best. You didn’t exactly know how much effort to put into this. What do you wear to something like this? Was it a date? Or a meetup with a crush? Or, a meet with just a friend?

You wait, and wait. An hour passed, then two.

You looked like a madman from how much you kept looking about.

But then it hit you.

What if he doesn’t show?

What if he didnt feel the same?

What were you thinking? That a man you knew for three days would have such strong feelings for you? Maybe you got your hopes up. Maybe he was too busy for you. You frown to yourself, your breathing getting faster. From where you sat, you hugged yourself. You were a miserable sight.

But then, like an angel’s choir, you hear,

“(Y,n)!”

It was slightly distant. Your head snapped up at the all too familiar voice. Making their way through the bustling crowd, was Dae-Ho. His hair wasn’t tied in his usual top knot, but down, letting the fluff bounce freely. The once unforgiving sunlight was now shining on the man like a star, only making him glow. He maneuvers his way through the mass and pops out holding a bouquet of ruby red roses. He pants, standing in front of you with that nervous smile of his.

“I-I’m so sorry, were you waiting long? There’s two different ones here. The one I went to was all the way across— a-and I waited and waited before I realized you were probably here! And—“

You’re unable to stay away any longer. You stand up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him close. Dae/Ho stops his rambles, instead, tucking an arm around your waist and holding you close, his other arm holding the flowers. “A-are you okay?” He asks with concern. You smile ear to ear, chuckling.

“I’m just really happy to see you, Dae-Ho.”

Your response made the boy sigh in relief, happy he didn’t upset you.

“I am too, really. I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

You’d pull away, still smiling joyously. Finally, you address the flowers in his hands. “Oh my gosh…!” You take them, giddy as a kid on their birthday. Dae-Ho smiles brightly at your enjoyment.

“I hope they’re not damaged or anything… I kinda sprinted everywhere to make it here.”

He confesses. You don’t notice a single flaw, but you also don’t care to notice. “I love them.” You solidify your appreciation. Dae-Ho looks up at the restaurant sign and back to you, licking his lips a moment. “You ready to go inside?” He sticks his hand out for you to take. Your heart felt full, and you take his hand. Butterflies fluttering along in your stomach.

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⋆ ★

The day didn’t end there. Dae-Ho took you out to see all the sights there were to see in his town. The two of you hand in hand, throughout the day, you didn’t drop your roses. From checking out different shops, interacting with street performers, and getting some sweet treats. Life hasn’t been so terrible since you both no longer had terrible debts to worry about. Even if it was blood money, and came with such terrible trauma, at least you wouldn’t have to go through it alone. You had someone to lean on through it.

Now, you two ended up at one of the hotels. You were sitting outside on one of the fountains, scrolling through your phone with laughter. “Aww, this one’s cute!” The two of you were admiring photos of today. You had taken a special liking to the man giving a cute peace sign over some deserts. Dae-Ho huffs, but couldn’t get his grin off his face.

“You don’t think I look dorky? I can take a more manly photo for you if you want.”

To prove his point, he’d flex his arm muscle. You giggle, patting his shoulder before you simply rest your hand there.

“I think you look perfect.”

Something about the way you said it, made Dae-Ho gulp subtly. His dark eyes gazing at you with awe. To calm his quick beating heart, he deflects off of him.

“I… wanna do this again, sometime.”

The ball was now in your court. Your heart skipped a beat. You look down a little bashfully.

“Y’know, I was kinda afraid for a while you didn’t… Y’know… That maybe it was just the heat of the moment from the games.”

Dae-Ho’s eyes widen. He lets out a dry chuckle, casting his eyes away. “Time went by differently for me there, I think. It honestly felt like I was there with you for a lot longer than it actually was.” He says truthfully. His exterior that was once shining, was now shy. You don’t say anything, allowing him to continue.

“Every second I spent with you, is all I wanted to do with my time.”

He looks back to you, his words carried a weight heavier than any boulder. You bring your hands to your lap, setting the roses aside. A crooked smile forms on your face as you shyly glance at your thighs.

“Well, it’s good to know I’m not crazy then… because I felt the same.”

When you look back to Dae-Ho, you see him gazing with an expression you’re unable to pinpoint. A mixture of adoration, and yearing. His pupils dart toward your lips, and then back to your eyes. He gulps again, unable to meet them for long. But you got the hint. You purse your lips, and gently cup his face. It regains his attention immediately. He’s close, you can feel the heat from his skin, his breath on your hand. He looks at your lips again, and leans in. You meet him halfway, and the two of you share a loving kiss. His lips molded with yours almost perfectly, like that’s where they were meant to be.

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┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

┊ ┊ ⋆˚         

✧. ┊         

⋆ ★

The next thing either of you knew, you’re trading kisses as Dae-Ho tries unlocking the door to his apartment complex. Your kissing was passionate, forward. All of your want and need was transferred which each tongue exchange.

As soon as you’re both inside, the man shuts the door and you press him against it, not breaking the kiss for a sweat. He moans softly against your lips, his tone urging his desire forward. Your kiss grew sloppier, but consistent as you run your hasty hands under his shirt. Feeling his toned stomach, you press your body against him further. You drew another moan out of Dae-Ho, the male gasping and breaking the kiss so he could say,

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t e-expecting company so…ngh…”

You were barely listening, leaving pecks down his neck. Little nips to his skin lead to full love bites. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since I watched you play gongi…” You leave a trail of hickeys on his once clean neck. Dae-Ho brings his finger to his lips, biting down to muffle his whimpers. “W-what do you mean?” He gasps as you release his skin with a ‘pop.’ You meet his eyes, lust shadowing yours.

“‘Wanted to feel those hands on me.”

You take his hands and place them on your hips. He meets your mouth again, his tongue intertwining with yours in a messy dance. His hands run up your sides and then down to your ass, finally finding a resting point to the back of your thighs. “Fuck…”

For once the male was happy to live in a studio. You push him onto the bed, letting him scramble to take off his shirt. You slowly slide down to the ground on your knees. He gazes at you with such kindness and appreciation. He wanted you to feel it, somehow. There was a sea of emotion he was withholding, but you saw lust was the strongest in the waves.

“(Y,n)…”

You look up to him with doe eyes, sending rushes of hunger through him. “Can I…?”

His breathing was uneven, trembling, he nods.

“P-please…” He pulls his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. He was already half hard, and it only grew as you close your hand around it. You admire its length, its width, and most of all, you feel the way it throbbed for you as it grew in your hand. You gave it a few test pumps, making your man bite his lip to stifle a whimper. Once he was fully hardened, you sped up your pace. Dae-Ho whines out, ever the vocal one. But it’s not like you minded, in fact, you encouraged it.

“You’re being so good for me, Dae-Ho…”

Hearing your praise, the male lets out another moan, his eyes closing. You feel his member twitch in your hand. “Oh? You liked that didn’t you? Wanna be called a good boy?” As soon as the words left your mouth, Dae-Ho moans loudly. He looks down at you with half lidded eyes.

“Oh shit…”

You lower your mouth over his throbbing member, keeping your touch ever so soft. The man leans back, looking to the ceiling. “Oh fuck…!” He grips the bedsheets beside him. For a brief moment, he nearly grabs your hair, but he stops himself. Instead, he gently runs his fingers through your hair. The way he held back to be a gentleman, it only made you wetter. You use one hand to pump his base while you sucked on the rest. Your other hand slid down under your bottoms, rubbing your already wet cunt. When Dae-Ho notices, his face somehow flushes more. “A-are you…?” To answer, you hum an eager note on his cock, sending vibrations down it.

“Fuck~! Ah…I—“ He’s unable to really keep his train of thought on track as another low groan rumbles through him. “Oh my God—“ He just mindlessly babbled on as you took him deeper. He’d involuntarily jerk his hips upward, and you felt the tip reach the back of your throat. Your gag made Dae-Ho immediately check in, concerned. “I-I’m sorry! Are you— fuck!”

But you didn’t care much, speeding up your motions. You take him in even deeper, now deep throating him. It hurt a little, but you cared more about the sweet tune of Dae-Ho’s whines. It might be your new favorite song.

“(Y-Y,n)…! Keep going like that and I’m g-gonna…I’m…!”

He was close, you could feel it. And so you continued your usual motions before showing special attention to his tip, his most sensitive spot. Dae-Ho grit his teeth and cried out, his back arching as he came. His shadow looked glorious, the way it mirrored his position and his gasps. It was almost like a painting, a work of art.

White hot strings enter your mouth, and you swallow it all. You blink up at him, removing your lips and clicking your tongue. Dae-Ho’s expression was priceless, his vulnerability was shown, the walls were down. “(Y,n)…” He cups your face and pulls lightly, a silent gesture he wants you to rise. You do so gracefully and stop. Seeing as the man was basically naked for you, you thought you should return the favor. Dae-Ho watches you slowly strip, undoing your outfit completely. He shakily sighs,

“You’re so beautiful…”

Once bare, you meet him in a ravenous kiss. Your hands hold the sides of his jaw as he wraps his arm around your waist. He whimpers against your lips, rolling you over so you were on your back, not breaking the kiss for a second. Dae-Ho gently takes both of your hands and pin them above your head, one hand having a grip on your wrists. You lament, feeling more aroused in such a helpless position.

He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. He admires you, your returned flushed face staring back at him lustfully. He leans back down, kissing down your neck. His touch was so sweet, feather light. Every kiss was gentle, as if you were delicate. He kissed down your body, stopping at your chest. His eyes meet yours again, asking for permission. You nod, gulping subtly. He’d continue, muttering,

“You deserve to be worshipped.”

He trails his tongue around your nipple and plants a peck on the top, before taking your breast into his mouth. Somehow, he knew the exact way to worship you. He sucked at the perfect intensity and rhythm. With his other hand, he massages your other breast. You loved the way he treated you.

“Dae-Ho…”

It sent waves of pleasure up your body. He started to work his way down, reaching your drenched pussy.

“God, you’re soaked…”

His tongue meets your dripping hole, running through your folds. You cry out, gripping his hair lightly. “Dae-Ho…! Fuck..” You feel his tongue swirl around your clit. The wet muscle circling as he sucked on the pearl. He started eating you out like he was damned starving. You massage his scalp, gripping every now and then. But then, you feel a wave of pleasure shoot through you as Dae-Ho inserts a finger. “Fuck…!” You whine, your eyes now shut. Sucking on your clit, he adds another, pushing them both in and curling his fingers. Your back arches as you’re shocked from too much stimulation.

“I-It’s too much…! D-Dae-Ho! Fuck. T-too m-much!”

“You can take it.”

His immediate response makes your orgasm race forward faster than you can blink. He continues pushing his fingers in an out of you, curling them each time and abusing your G spot. You cry out his name as you finish all over his face, unable to warn him in time. But he just laps up your juices like any other meal.

Dae-Ho looks back up at you with dreamy eyes. He’s met with your panting and flushed expression. You reach your hands out, trying to beckon him closer.

“Dae-Ho… j-just kiss me please!”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he slams his lips on yours, crawling back atop your body. You grind against his now hard again cock, moaning against him. Soft hums and grunts come from his throat and vibrate on your skin. You pull back, needing to feel him inside of you for certainty. “D-do you have a condom?” Your question catches him off guard, but it’s a necessary one. Dae-Ho blinks and nods. “Yeah— one second.” He kisses your cheek, making you smile as he scrambles to grab one.

As soon as he rolled one on, he’s back on top of you, gazing into your eyes once more. You swear you could see an entire night sky in his dark orbs. “Dae-Ho…” You kiss him again, he more than happily reciprocates. He breathes in through his nose, breathing in you. He lines up his cock with your entrance, pulling back to cup your face.

“Do you want this?”

Consent is a beautiful and mandatory thing. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. You nod, resting your hand atop his with a kind smile.

“I want you, Dae-Ho.”

Dae-Ho leans in and kisses you softly. His lips softly trying to tell you, ‘I’ve got you.’

He slowly enters you, his hands now gripping your hips. You grimace, adjusting to his length. Dae-Ho intertwines his fingers with yours on the bedsheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. His eyes were clamped shut, soft shudders escaping him as he continued in. “Fuck… (Y,n)…”

He bottoms out, and you’re a whimpering mess. Dae-Ho, despite being in a similar position, slants over and kisses up your neck. His lips comforting you generously.

“That’s it… that’s my girl.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah… yeah, fuck, your girl.”

He starts to move slowly, his breathing shaky from ecstasy. He mewls in your ear, biting his lip at an attempt to keep quiet. But you weren’t going to let that slide. “…Wanna hear you… wanna hear how good you feel.” You order. Dae-Ho’s hips stutter before he speeds up his thrusts. He lets out a louder whimper, you match his vocals, gripping his shoulders.

“D-Dae!”

“(Y,n)…!”

He holds you closer to him, his thrusts getting faster and deeper. His body was warm. You could feel his muscles tensing with every push and movement.

“Tell me I’m yours,”

He starts, his voice dripping with need.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

The vulnerability in his tone was enough to make you tear up. He was opening his heart out to you, leaving himself exposed. You wrap your arms around his back, covering his open wound with your own body. You cradle his head in your hand.

“I’ll stay, you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Your words of affirmation carry in the air. Dae-Ho hugs you even tighter. “(Y,n)!” He goes at an incredible speed, pounding into you. You claw at his back, needing the support. “Dae-Ho!” You wail, overwhelmed with pleasure. The male moves from your neck to rest his forehead against his. You feel every bit of love he was pumping into you. It’s a different level of intimacy, truly seeing each other’s soul like this.

You feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach. “Dae-Ho~! I’m close!” You moan, moaning in rhythm with each thrust. Dae-Ho nods frantically. “M-me too! Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…!” He’s unable to control his blabbering mouth. “Fuck. (Y,n)—you’re so good. So good. Need you… fuck…gonna—“

With that, you both come undone together, your moaning screams mixing together. Dae-Ho nearly collapses on top of you as he catches his breath, his face resting in your neck again. You pant, running your fingers through his hair as you both close your eyes.

He’d roll to his side, pulling out of you and disposing of the condom, tossing it into a trash can by his desk. He lays back down, resting on your collarbone. His arm snugly tucks around your waist.

“Did you mean it… what you said?”

Dae Ho’s question was so innocent, full of hope. He looked up at you expectantly. You feel yourself melt under his gaze, smiling softly and cupping his cheek.

“Of course I did. I’m yours.”

A satisfied smile forms on his face and he rests back down, closing his eyes with contentment. The two of you play together for the rest of the night. The last thing you’d hear before your slumber was a small mutter from your boy.

“I’m yours.”

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[d0rothydraws]

Part 2 of The Bet where Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy and then stuff happens Part 1 Here

Content: f!reader, Multiple orgasms, body worship, pet names, oral (f! receiving), aftercare

w/c: 2.3k

ao3: Here

a/n: Honestly I didn't think i would get this done as fast as I did but I was at dinner today and instead of waiting for the food like a normal person I started it and then got home and kept going until it was finished. I hope everyone likes this one as much as the first one

"You would have done the same thing if you were in my position, Sweetie." Sylus said as he looked at you, your eyes watering, lips swollen, face red from having his cock down your throat on my moments ago. Thinking you could take your time and tease him, he grew impatient. And now here you were, moments after getting face fucked about to make another damn bet.

“No, I have more self restraint than you." You said, pouting as you looked away, ignoring how raw and strained your voice sounded.

"I don't believe you." He whispered, a low chuckle. "Let's test it, shall we? Another bet perhaps?” His hand moved to grab your chin, making you look back at him. “If you win, if you manage not to touch me at all, I'll buy you that giant plushie you've been wanting.” Your eyes lit up.

“The 6ft tall one? Really? I thought you said it was ugly”

“It is ugly. But I won't be losing.” Sylus said with a smirk and you pouted. “When I win, all I want from you is simple.” He said, trailing his thumb over the bottom of your lip. “Just admit that you have no self restraint around me.”

His voice was low, quiet. Your ears tingled as you heard his words. A shiver ran down your spine and you refused to look away.

“Fine. But I won't be losing either.” You muttered and Sylus chuckled. He moved your positions so you were laying back on the bed and he was over you. His arms caged you in as the smell of his cologne and sweat filled your senses as he looked down at you.

“So feisty for a kitten who's just gotten their throat ravished.” He whispered, lips to your ear as he began. His nose trailed from your way to your neck, soft kisses against soft skin. You weren't used to him being particularly gentle. You felt your thighs push together as you took a slow breath trying to calm yourself.

As you pressed your thighs together, his knee came in-between them, spreading them again. His lips moved down your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of red marks as he bit and nipped softly. As his lips reached the strap of your dress, he gently pulled it down.

“Let me see all of you, sweetie.” He breathed against your skin as he helped undress you. He sat back, looking down at you as your dress was diagarded. Slowly his hand moved against your spine, reaching your bra strap. In an instant it was unfastened, slipping down your arms as he pulled it off gently and let it fall beside the bed with the growing pile of clothes.

His head dipped down, the flat of his tongue dragging against the canyon of your chest. His hands gently took you in his hands as he felt the soft mounds between his fingers. His thumbs pushed against your nipples, flicking them gently. The sensation made you twitch, gasping as you watched him. He looked up at you as his eyes met yours, his lips brushing against the skin before he reached your tender nipple. His eyes never left yours as his tongue flicked out, wetting the nub before bringing it into his mouth.

You whimpered. You couldn't help it. You felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin, your hands clinging to the bedsheets in an attempt to not curl your hands in his beautiful silver hair. For a second you forgot about the bet. And you weren't going to give in that easily. Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, arching your chest more into his mouth making him give a sound of approval.

His hands cradled and held you in a way that drove your mind to mush. His hands were rough, calloused. Big and strong. And yet, so, so gentle. As if he was afraid of breaking you. You shivered as his hands slid down your body, trailing down your sides as his body moved lower. His lips kissed down your soft stomach, feeling his breath against your skin as the sensation left goosebumps.

He took his time. Nothing he did was rushed. It was driving you insane. His hands slid over your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin gently before hooking into your underwear. You couldn't help yourself but to look down at him, the softness in his eyes, the wetness of his lips. Your heart nearly stopped at the sight.

“You're beautiful, every scar, every so-called blemish. It makes you more beautiful to me.” He said, kissing your stomach again gently. “Say it. Say that you're beautiful. Let me hear you, sweetie.” He murmured. You blushed, biting your lip. It's not that you didn't believe it, but right here, right now, it felt so much more intense.

“I'm beautiful.” You breathed out, voice shaky. Hearing yourself say the words made a warmth flood through you, blushing as you watched his lips twitch in a soft smile. His hands slowly moved down the fabric of your underwear, his lips sprinkling more kisses over your stomach.

“Yes, yes you are, kitten. You're a very beautiful, very good girl.” He said his lips trailing down your thighs as he continued to remove the last bit of fabric, discarding it onto that pile of clothes. “You are a good girl, aren't you? You've gone so long without as much as even reaching for me. I'm impressed.” He hummed, turning to look back at you again. His head was now between your thighs, hands tracing the softness of your thighs.

You could feel his warm breath against the wetness between your thighs making you shiver. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You tried to pretend that his words wasn't affecting you but you both knew that it was and if anything, he could see the proof in front of him. Your core so wet from tonight's activities that it was almost hard for him to keep himself at bay when you were like this.

His lips were on you again, your thighs soft under his lips as he kissed up one side and then moved to the other. Your legs were tingling with the sensation but even worse you felt yourself clench the closer that he reached your core. This didn't go unnoticed by him.

“I wish you could see yourself, sweetie.” He breathed out, a finger slowly trailing up the wetness of your core. The sound loud in your ears as you gasped, your eyes rolling back at the faint touch. “Twitching, shaking for my touch. I wish I could keep you like this longer,” He said his thumb slowly circling your clit as you arched your body closer. “But I'm getting hungry”

Your breath stopped as his tongue licked a long swipe against your core. You whispered a curse as you felt his hands wrap around your thighs, moving them onto his shoulders. Seconds later, it felt like ever nerve in your body was filled with pleasure. His tongue moved against you, thrusting into you every once in a while. Thick rough fingers taking the place of his tongue after what felt like a century. First two, and then three. You couldn't think, every thought was about how good his mouth felt on you. How big his hands were, how long his fingers were and how he knew exactly where to curl them.

You cried out, body shaking and trembling at the sudden climax that you didn't even have time to process. He pulled back slowly after letting you ride it out, licking you clean and then his fingers clean. You were sweaty, panting as your body layed limp on the bed. Your thighs still on his shoulders as he kissed your thighs making you twitch.

As your mind started to clear you felt your heart skip a beat. You did it. You didn't touch him, reach out to him - you won the bet! Right?

“You taste so good, my little kitten.” He purred, the tone of his voice going straight back to ignite that flame inside you. “I hope you know that I'm not done.”

“I-i won right? The bet? I didn't touch you” You said less confidently than you were hoping. He chucked, looking at you between your thighs.

“We never discussed the finer details. You didn't think that I only planned to go one round did you?” He said as he raised an eyebrow. When you didn't answer he kissed the top of your thigh.

“Wait- that's not fai– Sylus!” His mouth was on you again, that damn tongue, those damn lips. It felt like fire flooded your blood as your head fell back again onto the pillow, your hands clenching against the silk sheets. The fingers were back soon enough. Your eyes crossed as you felt your hips move on their own accord, thrusting against his fingers as the wet sound echoed against the dark room.

“Fuck I can't God i- Sylus” You screamed, and as you did, your hands reached for his hair, pulling his face deeper into you. You heard him growl against your cunt as his tongue worked harder, fingers hitting that spot he knew so well his right until-

Your eyes widened as your body arched off of the bed. A cry of pleasure as you felt your whole body clench, toes curling inward and legs shaking. He didn't stop. Tears built as he continued to lick, his fingers hitting that same damn spot.

“Sylus please it feels too good it's so good it hurts I can't take it anymore.” You gasped as the pleasure built again only moments apart from your last climax. Your heart was pounding, your body shook and twitched as you clenched around his fingers almost wishing it was his cock. You moaned, gasping, the idea almost sending you over the edge.

“You can take it sweetie. You're being so good for me.” He said moving away only long enough to speak before his lips moving back onto you. Your body twitched, the sensation built more than before. Your hand tightened in his hair. Fuck the bet. Who gives a shit when Sylus was between your thighs eating you out like a man starving. You couldn't care less at this point.

It hit like a tidal wave. Your scream muffled by your hand that definitely will have a bite mark on it in the morning. It was so powerful you couldn't even move, your eyes rolled back as you twitched, whimpering nonsense about how good you felt.

Sylus kissed you softly, muttering something that you didn't quite get before leaving. The sound of rushing water from the bathroom reached your ears. Sleep found you quickly even as he picked you up, sitting you on his lap as he bathed you. You only made soft noises as he dried you off and laid you down in bed, resting your head on his chest. His hands combed against your hair, kissing your forehead before he fell asleep himself.

The next morning you stirred awake, groaning at your sore thighs and hand from where you bit, earning yourself a tooth shaped mark on the side of your hand. Sylus was still deep asleep, you weren't sure what happened after the last orgasm, but one thing did ring in your memory. You were pretty sure you lost the bet.

It wasn't fair though, you didn't set the rules first and it wasn't even his bet to begin with! It started with Luke and Kieran. For him to just uno reverse-

The sound of him groaning brought you out of your thoughts as you looked at him, moving an arm over his eyes. There was no sun in the N109 zone, but the moon could still be really damn bright sometimes. As you shuffled off the bed to go close the curtains, a hand wrapped around your waist pulling you into him.

“And where do you think you're going.” He grumbled, half asleep.

“To close the curtains. I thought the moon was in your eyes.” You said laying back down as he moved his arm off of his face, blinking a few times before rubbing his eyes.

“What's wrong?” He said suddenly looking at you with knitted eyebrows. “I can tell, there's a look in your eye.” He said, gently taking your cheek in his hand, his sleep forgotten all about.

“Nothing it's just the stupid bet. I know technically I lost but I still don't think it's fair-” his chuckle cut you off as he shook his head.

“It was just for fun, though I can admit that you are right. It wasn't even.” He said humming softly. “Get dressed and come to the kitchen. I'll make some breakfast. And maybe we can try again later.” He said, his voice teasing as he slid off of the bed, walking out of the room after kissing you gently.

You blushed, his words processing and sighed. Try again? Later? He was going to be the death of you, you swore it. Your stomach growled, keeping you on track as you stood, grabbing some clothes quickly and ran to the kitchen.

As you rounded the corner, on the counter was something you never expected to see.

The giant Wasabi Octopus plushie you wanted. The one that the bet was about, the one he said he would get you if you won.

“How- when..” you said walking to pull the big red plushie into your arms, in shock but the sparkle in your eye didn't go unnoticed.

“I had planned to give it to you anyways, as a small gift. You were going to get it either way, and besides..” he trailed off stepping closer to you, looking down as you nuzzled into the plushie. “After last night, you earned it.”

[miumura]

SHE GETS HER WAY ｡ ｡ ｡ 보이넥스트도어 🪽 ✦

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ gf privilege with boynextdoor

──── 0t6!boynextdoor x f ! r ╱ ⌕ est. relationship, fluff ∿ w. none, they are just cuties wc. 0.7K+ ( 757 ) ｡ ｡ first post of 2025 😚 !! ( many more bnd works to come! ) happy new years everyone !! i am so thankful for everyone && i hope that 2025 treats you well and also becomes your year 🤍 !!

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

MYUNG JAEHYUN freely allowing you to bother him

no matter what kind of tricks you could pull, he never seems to get even a little bit annoyed. in fact, it's almost as if he adores you even more because of your antics. sometimes, it leaves you wondering if anything could tick him off at all. in reality, he might just play hard to get purposefully just to watch you persistently ask for something he would do for you without a second thought—no matter what it was. he just finds it rather cute when you're so determined to make him do something that you want. you wouldn’t even notice it’s an act until you see his wide grin as he finally “gives” in. so really, there's no need to beg for anything—you’re his weak spot, and he doesn't even try to hide it.

PARK SUNGHO dragging him into doing silly trends

regardless how silly he may think the tiktok you just showed him is, there’s such a low chance for him to say no. almost all of the time, you’d catch him saying yes. to his defense, how could he say no to someone like you? he loves seeing that spark of excitement in your eyes and can’t help but smile as you eagerly set up for the video you’re about to record. sungho, without a doubt, would just look at you with so much love as you tie that pink ribbon around him, adoring and cheesing over you internally.

LEE SANGHYEOK random physical touch

he doesn’t dislike physical touch, however, he will get all tensed up if someone were to randomly give it to him without warning. but with you? that’s a complete different story—poke at him, wrap your arms around him, or even smother him with affection, and he'd let it happen without a single complaint. if you wanted it, he’d simply give it to you. regardless, it’s a win-win situation for him—you’d get all the physical touch you want and he gets pampered with your sweet kisses and hugs. let’s say, there was always a motive all along—one that leaves him content with getting to keep you as close as possible.

HAN DONGMIN taking his belongings without asking

the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, he could’ve sworn he fell even harder for you. sure, he’s the type who usually prefers when people ask before borrowing his things, but seeing you in it? that was a whole different story. it brought an instant smile to his face, one he couldn’t hide even if he tried. from that moment on, he’s never refused you—or asked for anything back. need to borrow his phone for a bit? go ahead. want to wear that accessory he cherishes so much? it’s yours. he’s just that down bad for you. honestly, it doesn’t matter how long it’s out of his sight because as long as it’s with you, he’s at ease. he trusts you completely—and maybe, just maybe, he secretly loves the reminder that he’s yours.

KIM DONGHYUN you have all of his attention

safe to say, you have the leehan completely swooned. you could be distracting him from his game or youtube video, but the moment you call his name, it's like everything fades into the background. it’s almost as if, within a split of a second, he’d be right there for you. even when you don’t call for him, he’ll pause whatever he’s doing just to check up on you. whether it’s a quick text or simply staying close within your reach, it’s more than enough to keep him content. his eyes soften the moment they land on you, almost as if he can’t help but admire the person who means the most to him. and honestly? he wouldn’t want it any other way.

KIM WOONHAK decorating his belongings

at first, he might refuse and say a few half-hearted complaints as you pulled out your sticker sheets. but the moment you stuck those tiny heart stickers on his phone case, it was game over. his heart started racing faster than he’d like to admit, and suddenly, those so-called “childish” designs didn’t seem so bad. ever since then, he’s been extra cautious with anything you’ve decorated, treating them with such care as if his life depended on it. he’s practically paranoid about getting even the tiniest scratch on them. in fact, he takes every chance he gets to proudly show them off—whether it’s his phone, notebook, or water bottle—and purposely leaves his things out in the open, secretly hoping you’ll add more. it doesn’t matter if the stickers are cute, silly, or completely random. what matters is that you’re the one who decorated them, and to him, that makes them absolutely perfect.

‘💬’ ─── new year new layout ( ? ) do we like this way of writing for hcs ??

BND PERM TAGLIST ( OPEN ) ! — @juyeoz @j4d

[florawrites-blog]

Miss mine

-Moments they realise they are deep down the down-bad hole

Lee heeseung - 이희승

You stood at the finish line, catching your breath, feeling a mix of exhaustion and triumph as you processed coming in second. The months of grueling 5 a.m. training runs, the discipline with your diet, and the endless leg exercises had paid off. This felt like your first place—winning a marathon of dedication against yourself, against the odds of your own limits.

Suddenly, through the cheering crowd, you spotted Heeseung, wearing a shirt with your name emblazoned across it, along with Ni-ki beside him in matching support. The moment your eyes met, you let out a whoop, lifting your arms in celebration. Heeseung didn’t think twice; he broke past the security line, pushing forward until he reached you.

Without a word, he scooped you up, wrapping his arms around your waist, and spun you in circles, his laughter mixing with yours as you both celebrated the victory. He buried his face in your neck, pressing soft kisses there, and held you even tighter. For those moments, it was like you two were in a world of your own, with nothing else but the joy of the moment. Ni-ki cheered from the side, and you couldn’t help but laugh louder, savoring the warmth of Heeseung’s embrace and the pride in his eyes that said, You did it. And he was so inlove with you for it

Park jongseong - 박종성

Sunoo sat across from you at the table, casually tossing back a handful of vitamins like they were candy. You’d seen him do it a few times before, but today, it just hit a nerve. Without thinking, you smacked your hand on the table, standing up and giving him a firm scolding. “Sunoo, you can’t keep doing this! You know that’s not how vitamins work; you need to take them properly and with meals, not all at once!”

Everyone went quiet, the entire room watching as you laid into him. Sunoo’s eyes widened as he looked over at Jay, silently pleading for rescue, but Jay just leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. He wasn’t about to step in—he knew he could never bring himself to scold Sunoo, even when he was doing something reckless. But seeing you, so fiercely protective and willing to call Sunoo out on his habits, made Jay’s heart swell with pride.

As you finally finished scolding Sunoo, Jay stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning close turning you around to face him. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “You’d make such a good mother, darling. Seeing you take care of Sunoo like that… it makes me want to marry you right now.”

Your cheeks flushed, his words sinking in as Sunoo pouted across the table, but Jay just grinned, looking completely smitten. In that moment, he knew he’d found someone who he could love and depend on—someone he wanted to build a future with.

Sim jaeyun - 심재윤

Hide and seek with Jake had turned into one of those innocent games that somehow made the world outside feel like a distant memory. As you crouched in the bathroom shower, you held your breath, trying not to make a sound. You heard his footsteps approaching and braced yourself, thinking he might actually pass by. But just as you relaxed, the shower curtain flew open, and Jake was there, grinning.

Startled, you nearly stumbled backward, but Jake’s hands shot out to catch you. Unfortunately, his balance didn’t hold, and both of you tumbled straight into the bathtub, hitting the water switch in the chaos. In an instant, water drenched you both, soaking your clothes, hair, and everything around you.

For a moment, you both just looked at each other, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter that echoed through the bathroom. The world beyond the apartment disappeared completely, leaving just the two of you, laughing so hard that neither of you could even hear the water running.

Jake’s head ended up resting on your chest, his laughter vibrating against you, tickling you even more. As the laughter finally began to settle, he raised his head, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze softened, a warmth there that made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

In that messy, chaotic moment, he knew—this was it. This was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Smiling, he leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper, “You’re everything I need. Even if every day is as wild as this, I’d spend forever with you.”

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

Sunghoon let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. There you were, standing barefoot in the middle of the kitchen, your expression a mix of mischief and adrenaline as you attempted yet another backflip. The dim kitchen light only made your wild energy feel more surreal, and he was starting to question if he was still dreaming.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice raspy from sleep, “what in the world are you doing?”

But before you could respond, you noticed him and gasped, startled by his sudden appearance. The next thing he knew, you wobbled mid-attempt, almost crashing into the counter. His reflexes kicked in, and within seconds, he had you safely in his arms, holding you as if you weighed nothing.

Now, here you were, sprawled on top of him as you both hit the floor, your giggles filling the silent kitchen. Despite his initial annoyance, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with a mix of guilt and pure joy.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. His heart was too busy fluttering at the sight of your laughter to allow any actual frustration.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted between giggles. “And I thought… why not learn a new skill? Backflips seemed cool.”

“Cool?” he repeated, raising a brow. “It’s 2 a.m., Y/N. Normal people sleep.”

You pouted, resting your chin on his chest. “You love me anyway.”

He let out another sigh, this one more fond than frustrated. “Yeah, I do,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible but full of sincerity. “But I’m not letting you practice gymnastics at this hour anymore. You’re a hazard.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Deal. But only if you teach me tomorrow.”

He groaned, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “Fine. But for now, back to bed, you little maniac.”

With that, he effortlessly scooped you up and carried you back to the bedroom, already plotting ways to keep your late-night energy bursts under control—while secretly loving every chaotic second of it. Kim sunoo - 김순우

Sunoo groaned softly as he shifted in your arms, the exhaustion evident on his face. His body felt like lead, his muscles screaming from hours of practice. All he wanted was peace, quiet, and, most importantly, you. And you, being you, were more than ready to deliver—though in your own unique way.

He let out a small hum of contentment when you pulled him onto your chest, your fingers brushing through his hair with a tenderness that made his heart ache in the best way. For a moment, he thought he might actually drift off, lulled by your warmth and presence. That was until you started rapping.

“This one is for the boys with the booming system…”

Sunoo cracked one eye open, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Y/N,” he mumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. “This isn’t a lullaby. This is Nicki Minaj.”

You didn’t even pause, your finger pressing softly against his lips to shush him as you continued, your voice growing more animated with each line. His initial confusion quickly gave way to uncontrollable giggles, his chest vibrating against yours as he tried—and failed—to keep a straight face.

“Stop laughing!” you teased mid-verse, though your grin betrayed your faux seriousness.

“I can’t help it,” he managed between breaths, his cheeks flushed from laughter. “You’re so ridiculous. Who raps Nicki Minaj as a lullaby?”

You shrugged dramatically, feigning offense. “A supportive partner who just wants their babygirl to feel better. That’s who.”

He groaned, hiding his face in your chest, but the warmth of his laughter didn’t fade. “I’m not your babygirl, Y/N,” he grumbled, though his tone lacked any real conviction.

“Yes, you are,” you replied with a smirk, running your fingers through his hair again. “Now hush. Babygirl needs to rest.”

His protests faded as he gave in, the sound of your voice—ridiculous lyrics and all—somehow bringing him the comfort his aching body had been craving. He didn’t know how you managed it, but in that moment, Sunoo couldn’t feel anything but pure love for you.

“You’re crazy,” he muttered softly, his eyes fluttering shut at last.

“Yeah yeah and you are saint” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I am,” he murmured, a content smile spreading across his lips as he finally drifted off, feeling safe, cherished, and deeply, deeply loved.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

The moment you walked into the living room, Jungwon froze. His eyes widened slightly, and his jaw dropped just a little before he quickly clamped it shut, but his expression was enough to make you pause. You frowned, glancing down at your outfit and then back at him. His silence was… unnerving.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you asked suspiciously, crossing your arms. “Is it bad? Should I change?”

Before you could even turn around to retreat back into the bedroom, Jungwon moved faster than you could react. In one swift motion, he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms wrapping around your knees as he threw you over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Jungwon!” you gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his back. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice low and full of warmth, “You are the most gorgeous human being my eyes have ever been laid on. You’re not going anywhere.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in your throat. “You’re so dramatic,” you muttered, but your voice was softer, betraying how flustered you were.

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jungwon carried you over to the couch and gently set you down, still holding your gaze with that awe-struck expression. “I was waiting for four hours, and I’d wait four more if it meant seeing you like this. So, no, you’re not changing.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension of the evening melting away in an instant. “Fine, I won’t change,” you relented, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Good,” he said with a satisfied grin, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms. “Now, let’s go. But I’m warning you—I won’t be able to stop staring at you all night.”

And true to his word, he didn’t.

Ni- ki -남편

Ni-ki had been lounging on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, when you walked into the dorm unannounced. He wasn’t expecting you, and seeing you after your boxing session—in your short-sleeved hoodie, boxing shorts, and ponytail—nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

His first instinct? Stay cool. Play it off. Be the nonchalant guy he swore he was. But his heart had other plans, hammering against his chest like it was trying to escape.

You casually greeted everyone, your presence lighting up the room as you sat down to eat. Ni-ki tried his best to keep it together, but every time you spoke or laughed, a stutter threatened to spill out.

Jake and Sunghoon didn’t miss a thing. They exchanged knowing smirks, watching Ni-ki fumble with his chopsticks and glance at you like a lovesick puppy. You, of course, were oblivious, too focused on the food you brought to notice how hard he was trying not to lose it.

When you got up to grab some water, Ni-ki smacked his face with his palm, muttering under his breath, “Get it together, man. You’re cooler than this.”

By the time you returned, Jake and Sunghoon had conveniently disappeared, leaving just the two of you in the room. You set your glass down, and before you could sit, Ni-ki grabbed your wrist.

“Ni-ki?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

He avoided your gaze, his face flushed as he hid it against your neck. His grip on your wrist was firm but gentle, his voice barely audible. “You’re driving me crazy. Do you know that?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden boldness. “Bro, I’m literally sweaty as hell. Don’t even think about hugging me right now.”

He groaned but didn’t let go, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t care. You look way too good, and it’s messing with me.”

You laughed, trying to wiggle free, but he only held on tighter. “So, what, you’re just gonna cling to me until you recover?”

“Exactly,” he mumbled, finally glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. “Just… let me have this moment, okay?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the grin on your face gave you away. “Fine. But if you pass out from how gross I am right now, that’s on you.”

He chuckled, finally relaxing a little. “Totally worth it.”

[werecreature-addicted]

i love the idea of a werewolf best friend who is totally in love with you and keeps trying to court you but since you're human you're just thinking he's being thoughtful or something

but he busts every night to the thought of you crying into the pillow, his heavy body pressing onto you and pushing you to the mattress, as he fucks his fat cock into you, trying to knot you and knock you up

want so badly to mark you as his that when he even gets a glimpse of your neck/shoulders he salivates and gets hard

werewolf courting is a subtle thing- really it's more about keeping others away from you than winning you over. you don't see all the sharp glares he sends to other people. or the way he snaps at his other friends for mentioning how cute you look.

he's sweet to you. he gives you bites off his plate. and almost always brings you a drink or snack when you hang out together. he'd be leaving kills on your doorstep but apparently it "freaks out the neighbors" and "you don't know what to do with a whole deer carcass" or whatever. humans are so hard to please. those silly little candies you like can't be very filling but he can't shake the urge to feed you. so he does.

He's also very protective. he always walks/ drives you home at the end of the night. he'll be by your side in an instant if you call for him and god help any idiot who tries to fuck with you.

Also, his home is always open to you. if you ever want to come over randomly or borrow something- what's his is yours. you don't realize how territorial he is with everyone else because he's always so generous and giving with you. especially with clothes!! if you want a sweatshirt or a pair of shorts, they're yours. he loves little things like that to make you smell like him.

To any other werewolf, any one of these things would be a clear indication of romantic interest. I mean- the guy lets you eat off his plate! do you have any idea how territorial wolves are with food? No! Of course, you don't you're human. all of it feels normal to you. there might be other things that you take for flirting that he's doing on accident. but really you think of him as a really good friend.

it's hell on your werewolf. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong. he's a perfect mate for you, but you never seem to acknowledge his flirting as something romantic. he hates it when you stretch your head to the side, baring your neck to him, it's like you're begging to be marked. and by "hates" I do mean it gets his mind spinning. it's like you have no idea how hard it is not to bite you sometimes.

He can't help himself. he will keep going until you accept him because he knows that you're the one for him. so he walks you home for the night then goes back to his place, alone, and lays in bed thinking about you.

at first, it's nothing dirty. he's just wondering what the two of you will do when you hang out next, then he's wondering what you're doing right now. did you take a shower? did you go straight to bed? what do you sleep in when you're all alone? what if you sleep in just your underwear- or naked.

he's hard. he always is when he lets himself think about you too much. he can't help it. so he starts touching himself while he lets his mind wander.

it would feel good to bite your neck. it would feel better to bite the soft sensitive skin of your inner thigh. he wants to mark you while he fucks you. he wants to own you inside and out. he knows you'd take his cock well. it's big but you don't mind, right? you'd like a little pain with your pleasure.

he thinks about all the different positions he could put you in. he thinks about you ridding his cock, about flipping you over and pinning your knees to your chest so he can see your face as he ruins you.

he cums all over himself imagining you screaming- begging him to knot you. he can only hope one day his little fantasy will become a reality.

[urdreamydoodles]

hi! i love your work, everyone feels so in-character and accurate!!! i think anyone even glancing at this blog can really tell how much care and love you have for these characters and its absolutely beautiful.

would you be interested in doing a request with the x-men (preferably Logan, Remy, Kurt, Colossus, Cable, Deadpool, and Magneto please?) where reader is a mutant and their main power is that anyone they touch is instantly filled with joy? and the more physical contact they have the more intense the happiness is, to the point where a shirtless cuddling session might accidentally make one of the x-men cry tears of joy.

X-Men x Fem!Reader

Your mutation is to make people instantly happy by touch

As your partner experiences the effects of your unique mutation that brings instant happiness with a simple touch, they find themselves captivated by the warmth and joy you effortlessly radiate.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Colossus, Cable, Wade Wilson, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier & Scott Summers

Good day, my fellow comic book lovers. Yes, I'm back, with even more ideas than before and even more inspiration. I hope you are ready. (And I'm happy to fulfill your request, the idea is amazing. I hope you like it.)

Logan Howlett

- Logan was initially cautious about letting you get close; he didn’t believe that anyone like you could actually find something worth loving in him. He'd tried pushing you away, though you always found ways to make him let his guard down, usually through gentle persistence and that warm smile of yours that could melt adamantium.

- Your powers were unique to him. With his lifetime of pain, his usual cynicism, and a gruff personality, he never expected to find solace in anyone, let alone through something as simple as touch. The first time you brushed his hand during a mission, he noticed a calm he hadn’t felt in decades. It made him think that maybe he could deserve this—deserve you.

- Over time, he started coming to you when things got rough. A hand on his shoulder after a long day, a brush of your fingers on his arm—these small moments were something he’d never admit he was beginning to crave. It amazed him how you could peel away layers of his anger, leaving him more vulnerable than he’d ever allowed himself to be with anyone else.

- Logan had an unspoken rule about keeping his shirt on during your cuddling sessions. He couldn’t figure out if he was afraid of overwhelming himself or you. But one evening, after a particularly hard mission, he came back to you, worn down. This time, as he lay beside you, he let you slip your hands over his bare chest, fingers tracing his scars with reverence.

- The feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. At first, it was a gentle warmth that soothed his spirit. But then, the joy kept building, wave after wave crashing over him, melting away decades of pain. Logan tried to keep his composure, but the intensity of happiness was too much. Before he knew it, silent tears were streaming down his face. He held onto you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder, overcome by the rarest kind of peace.

- After that, Logan stopped trying to keep his distance, feeling like he could let himself be vulnerable with you in a way he never had before. He still rarely showed his softer side, but when he did, you were the one person who got to see every part of him.

- You two shared an unspoken bond in the way he’d wordlessly reach for your hand in a crowded room, or how he’d find you at the end of a long day, needing just a few minutes of your touch to feel whole again. You became his peace, his center, the calm in his storm.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy’s charm was legendary, and he couldn’t resist trying to impress you from the moment he met you. He’d flash you a smirk, tell a joke, or drop a flirtatious line just to see you smile. But when he learned about your powers, he realized it was more than just fun and games. You weren’t someone he could win over with his usual swagger; you touched something deeper in him, something he wasn’t sure he wanted exposed.

- The first time he felt the effects of your powers, he didn’t know what hit him. Your hand brushed his arm, and suddenly, he felt a joy that he hadn’t known since he was a kid, free of the troubles and betrayals that life had thrown his way. For a man like Remy, who hid so much behind his humor and bravado, it was shocking. But he found himself craving that touch, that happiness, in a way he hadn’t expected.

- Whenever the weight of his past sins would catch up to him, he’d come to you, leaning into your embrace, letting your warmth dissolve the guilt that usually gnawed at him. Remy often joked that you were his “lucky charm,” but it was more than luck—you were his reminder that maybe he deserved to feel something good after all.

- One night, you both were curled up on his couch, your hand tracing patterns on his chest, your bare skin against his. It started as a pleasant warmth, and then, without warning, it grew into an overwhelming wave of euphoria. The happiness was so intense that it caught him completely off guard. He chuckled at first, saying, “Cher, I think you mighta broke ol’ Remy,” but then his voice hitched, and he couldn’t help the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

- For a man who always prided himself on staying in control, it was a vulnerable moment. He laughed softly, wiping at his eyes, but you just held him, letting him feel it fully. Remy realized that in your arms, he didn’t have to be the smooth-talking charmer, the rogue who had everything under control. He could just be Remy.

- From that day on, he let himself be honest with you about his past, his regrets, and the mistakes that haunted him. He knew that with you, he could find the joy he’d always chased in all the wrong places. Your touch was a balm to his soul, something he knew he’d never take for granted.

- You’d often catch him looking at you with a softness that no one else ever got to see, and when he’d pull you close, it was as if you were the one thing in his life that made sense. In you, he found a kind of love and joy that filled all the gaps he’d spent years trying to ignore.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt was enchanted by you from the start. With his deep-rooted faith and complex past, he saw you as a gift, something almost divine. Your presence seemed to bring light into his world, and he found himself drawn to you in a way that went beyond simple attraction.

- The first time he felt your powers, it was as if his worries and insecurities melted away, replaced by a gentle, all-encompassing happiness. Your touch brought him a kind of peace he hadn’t known since before his mutation became visible. For Kurt, who always struggled with acceptance, your touch was a reminder that he was worthy of love, just as he was.

- He cherished every small gesture—the way you’d run your fingers over his skin, your gentle hand in his when he’d had a tough day, the way you made him feel seen. It was as if you understood the parts of him he rarely shared with anyone else, parts he kept hidden even from himself. With you, he didn’t have to hide.

- One night, as you lay side by side, you rested your hands on his bare chest, skin to skin. The feeling started as a soft, warm glow that spread through him. But then, it deepened, filling him with such overwhelming joy that he couldn’t contain it. His vision blurred as he felt tears welling up, and he turned his face into your shoulder, his voice catching as he whispered, “Mein Liebling… I have never felt this happy.”

- The tears that followed were unexpected, but he let them fall, finally allowing himself to experience the joy you gave him without holding back. In that moment, he felt an intense gratitude—for you, for your touch, for the love that made him feel more human than he’d ever dared to hope.

- From then on, he became even more openly affectionate, his love spilling out in everything he did. He would trace gentle patterns on your hand, whisper sweet nothings in German, or look at you as if you were the answer to every question his heart had ever asked. He felt blessed, and he’d tell you so often, his voice filled with awe and reverence.

- You became his sanctuary, his safe haven from a world that so often judged him. With you, he found not just happiness but the acceptance he’d longed for. Kurt would hold you close, his tail wrapping around you as if to anchor himself to this joy he’d found, promising you silently that he would cherish every moment.

Piotr Rasputin

- Piotr is gentle and considerate, always cautious with his strength. When he met you, he was amazed by how someone so powerful could be so soft-hearted. At first, he worried about your powers, fearing he might become too reliant on the joy you brought. But soon, he found himself yearning for your touch after long, grueling battles, especially when he could let his guard down around you.

- When you first held his hand, he was hesitant. He’d always been a bit self-conscious about how different he looked, but you just smiled and took his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your touch brought him a gentle warmth, melting away the insecurities he often carried with him. With you, he felt seen and accepted in ways that no one else had ever made him feel.

- Piotr isn’t one to ask for too much, but he found himself drawn to your touch like a magnet. After particularly rough missions, he’d quietly seek you out, hoping for a moment of comfort. You never made a fuss, just let him sit beside you, holding his hand or leaning against him as the joy you radiated worked its way into him. It became a cherished ritual, something that made the hardships of his life feel bearable.

- One night, Piotr finally allowed himself to lie beside you, skin to skin. At first, it was a gentle happiness that filled him, but the longer you stayed close, the more intense it became. The warmth grew into an overwhelming bliss, and for someone as stoic as Piotr, the depth of it caught him off guard. His breathing became uneven, and before he knew it, he was crying—tears slipping down his metallic cheeks as he held you close, speechless.

- He felt almost embarrassed afterward, but you just smiled, wiping his tears and reassuring him. That moment marked a turning point for him. He realized that with you, he didn’t need to hide his emotions, that it was okay to let himself feel. You brought out a side of him he thought had been lost long ago, one that still hoped, dreamed, and loved with a full heart.

- After that night, Piotr grew even more attached to you, finding peace in the quiet moments when you’d lie together, sharing warmth and joy. He’d often spend those moments in a comfortable silence, simply holding you, feeling grateful for the happiness you’d brought into his life.

Nathan Summers

- Nathan has seen his share of hardship and pain, coming from a war-torn future where joy is rare. He was wary of you at first, seeing your powers as a potential weakness in a world that demands toughness. But as he got to know you, he realized that the joy you brought him wasn’t just a temporary distraction; it was something he hadn’t realized he’d been desperately needing.

- You first touched his hand during a quiet moment, and he felt a strange peace wash over him. He was stunned. Joy was a feeling he hadn’t associated with himself in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. But after that first taste, he found himself seeking your company, your touch, whenever he felt the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him.

- Over time, Nathan came to cherish the sense of calm you gave him, though he would never admit it outright. Instead, he’d make excuses to see you, dropping by under the guise of “checking in” or “needing advice.” You’d smile knowingly, reaching out to him, and the tension would melt away from his face as your touch brought him a happiness that felt out of reach otherwise.

- One night, Nathan finally allowed himself to be vulnerable, lying beside you without his usual armor, letting himself feel the full effect of your touch. As you traced your fingers over his scars and metallic arm, the joy started to overwhelm him. It was so pure, so intense, that he felt his defenses shattering. His throat tightened, and he could no longer hold back the tears that streamed down his face.

- You didn’t say anything, just held him close, letting him process everything he’d buried under years of battle and hardship. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt light—almost as if he’d been granted a glimpse of a different life, one filled with peace and contentment. He hadn’t thought it possible, but you made it real, even if only for a moment.

- After that night, Nathan began to trust you with parts of himself he’d never shown anyone. You became his safe haven, the one person who could ease the storm that constantly raged within him. He’d reach for you whenever he needed grounding, finding solace in your presence, and for once, he allowed himself to believe that maybe he deserved to feel happiness, even amidst the chaos.

Wade Wilson

- Wade was fascinated by you from the start. He was used to people either fearing him or finding him too much to handle, so when you treated him with kindness and didn’t shy away from his scars, he was hooked. At first, he thought he’d be immune to your powers, but your touch affected him in a way he couldn’t explain—and for once, it left him speechless.

- Wade’s sense of humor often masked his pain, and he’d joke endlessly about how “lucky” he was to have a “happiness generator” like you. But deep down, he was in awe of you. You brought him something he hadn’t felt in years: genuine joy. He often found himself seeking your touch after missions, feeling the chaotic noise in his mind quiet as your presence filled him with peace.

- Wade was so accustomed to hiding behind his jokes and bravado that he didn’t know how to respond to the warmth you gave him. You’d touch his hand, or hug him after a tough day, and the happiness would radiate through him. For someone used to constant pain, both physical and emotional, it felt almost surreal.

- One evening, he finally allowed himself to let go of his usual defenses. You sat close, tracing gentle patterns on his scarred skin, and the happiness flooded through him, stronger than ever before. The joy grew overwhelming, melting away the hurt he’d carried for so long. Wade tried to crack a joke, but his voice wavered, and suddenly, he found himself laughing and crying at the same time, his heart pounding in his chest.

- He tried to brush it off, saying something about “emotional overload,” but you just held him, letting him feel without judgment. Wade had spent so long hiding his vulnerabilities, but with you, he didn’t feel the need to. He clung to you, grateful for the comfort you provided, for the happiness that didn’t demand anything from him but to just be.

- After that, Wade made it his personal mission to keep you smiling. He’d bring you flowers, tell you absurdly bad jokes, and remind you constantly of how much he cherished you. You were his anchor, his light, and the one person who saw past the madness to the man he rarely showed anyone. In your arms, he found a joy that, for once, he didn’t need to laugh away.

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik’s life has been filled with loss, pain, and a single-minded pursuit of justice for his people. When he met you, he saw your power as a beautiful contradiction: something gentle yet capable of profound influence. Your ability to bring happiness through touch initially seemed trivial to him, but he soon learned its incredible value, especially as you softened the edges of his hardened heart.

- The first time you touched Erik’s hand, he resisted, fearful of showing vulnerability. But even the brief contact sent a surprising warmth through him. He’d spent so long submerged in anger and grief that this unexpected peace felt foreign. Over time, he began to seek out these moments, allowing himself to feel the comfort you provided in small doses, though he’d never admit how much he craved it.

- Erik wasn’t accustomed to softness, and at first, he found himself pushing you away whenever he felt the effects of your powers becoming too strong. But gradually, he began to allow himself more of this joy, savoring the brief relief you brought to his restless mind. You became his oasis in a life filled with darkness, a reminder of a gentler world he’d almost forgotten.

- One evening, after a particularly difficult confrontation, Erik finally allowed himself to be vulnerable, lying close to you, letting his guard down completely. As your touch filled him with happiness, the intensity grew until he could barely breathe. The joy was overwhelming, washing over years of pain, and before he knew it, he was trembling, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, finally allowing himself to let go.

- Erik felt embarrassed afterward, but you reassured him with gentle words, wiping his tears away. He realized then that, with you, he didn’t have to be the hardened leader all the time. For once, he was allowed to be just Erik, and you cherished him for it. This vulnerability only deepened his love for you, making him fiercely protective of your presence in his life.

- From that moment on, Erik allowed himself to indulge in the joy you provided, even if only in private. He’d come to you after every struggle, finding solace in your embrace. You became his sanctuary, and though he remained resolute in his mission, he held your love as a reminder that beauty and goodness still existed in his world, grounding him in ways he never thought possible.

Charles Xavier

- Charles has always been a compassionate leader, dedicating himself to helping others. When he first discovered your power, he was fascinated by the effect you had on others. He viewed your ability to bring joy through touch as a remarkable gift, one that held potential beyond the typical mutant powers he encountered. Over time, he found himself drawn to you, grateful for the solace you brought into his life.

- The first time you touched Charles’s hand, he was pleasantly surprised by the calm that washed over him. Years of telepathic stress and the weight of his responsibilities melted away, if only for a moment. He quickly realized that your presence was unlike anything he’d experienced before. You were a beacon of peace, something he hadn’t realized he needed so deeply.

- Over time, Charles found himself coming to you more often, especially after long days spent guiding and protecting his students. You became his retreat, a safe place where he could rest without the weight of the world on his shoulders. He admired your strength and cherished the way your touch brought him a rare sense of tranquility, allowing him to recharge and continue his work with renewed purpose.

- One evening, Charles allowed himself to truly relax in your arms. As he lay beside you, your touch grew more intense, filling him with such profound joy that he felt all his worries dissolve. The happiness was so powerful that he could no longer hold back the emotion building within him. Tears slipped down his face as he clung to you, overwhelmed by the depth of the joy he felt.

- You held him close, letting him process the weight of his emotions. Charles hadn’t allowed himself to be this vulnerable in years, and with you, he realized that he didn’t have to carry everything alone. Your love reminded him of the beauty and kindness he fought to preserve, rekindling his faith in a future where mutants and humans could coexist.

- After that night, Charles became even more devoted to you, finding strength in the joy you brought to his life. He would often reach for your hand during moments of doubt, feeling your touch ground him. You were his reminder of what he was fighting for, a symbol of the peaceful world he envisioned, and he cherished every moment spent in your embrace.

Scott Summers

- Scott is disciplined, focused, and sometimes emotionally reserved, the weight of his responsibilities often making it difficult for him to relax. When he met you, he was hesitant, unsure if he should allow himself to get close to someone so gentle-hearted. But you quickly won him over with your kindness, and the joy you brought him became a welcome contrast to the structured, intense life he led.

- Your touch was a revelation to Scott, who was so used to suppressing his emotions that he hardly recognized the calm happiness you stirred in him. At first, he tried to downplay it, insisting that he was fine without it. But he found himself seeking your presence more and more, grateful for the way you helped him unwind and escape the pressure of leadership, even if only for a while.

- Scott isn’t one to openly show vulnerability, but with you, he felt a rare sense of peace that allowed him to let down his guard. You’d hold his hand or lean against him, and he’d feel the stresses of the day melt away. Slowly, he came to cherish these moments, finding that your touch grounded him in ways he didn’t know he needed.

- One night, after a particularly intense mission, Scott allowed himself to be fully open with you. He rested beside you, letting your touch wash over him without any resistance. The joy you brought grew until it became overwhelming, filling every part of him with a profound happiness. He found himself overcome with emotion, tears slipping down his cheeks as he realized how much he’d been holding in.

- You comforted him, holding him close as he processed the depth of his feelings. For Scott, this was a turning point, showing him that it was okay to rely on someone, to let himself feel happiness without guilt. You reminded him that he was more than just a leader; he was a person worthy of love and joy, something he often forgot.

- After that, Scott became incredibly protective of you, seeing you as a constant source of strength and peace in his life. He’d come to you after every battle, every difficult day, finding solace in your touch. You were his reminder that, despite the constant struggle, there was beauty and happiness worth fighting for, and he held onto you with a newfound appreciation for everything you brought into his world.

[fr0stf4ll]

Flavours of Prythian

Coming from that request

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; Y/N, a talented restaurateur’s life is turned upside down when she forms an unexpected bond with Azriel, the mysterious Spymaster of the Night Court. Befriending Elain, who confides in her about a male she’s trying to win over, she eagerly helps her new friend — only to discover the male is none other than Azriel. When the bond between her and Azriel snaps at first touch, she’s torn between loyalty to Elain and the undeniable connection she shares with the shadowy warrior.

word count ; 7.8k

warning; //

notes; Yoo everyone, here is my first one shot ! Thank you again for the request<333 Should I do a more general taglist so that you guys can be permanently on it. Enjoy it, see you <3

---

Prythian was a land of many wonders, from the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains to the lush, rolling hills of the Spring Court. But for you, the true magic of the land was found in its kitchens, markets, and the rich flavors that each court had to offer.

You had always been drawn to the culinary arts, even as a child. Your curiosity led you to travel across the courts, tasting the distinct dishes of each region, learning from the most skilled chefs, and uncovering the hidden culinary gems that most would overlook. You spent years journeying from the Day Court, where spices danced like sunlight on the tongue, to the Winter Court, where hearty stews and warm bread were a staple against the biting cold. In the Night Court, you discovered the delicate balance of flavors that mirrored the starlit skies above, and in the Summer Court, you indulged in the rich, vibrant tastes that seemed to capture the very essence of the sun-drenched beaches.

Your travels weren’t just about satisfying your own cravings; they were a quest to bring the best of Prythian’s diverse cuisines to others. And so, you did the impossible—you opened a series of restaurants, each one in a different court, each one a testament to the culinary traditions you had learned and made your own. Your establishments became a haven for those seeking not only a good meal but an experience, a journey through Prythian’s tastes and textures without ever leaving their seat.

Your flagship restaurant, nestled in the heart of Velaris, was particularly special. It was here, in the City of Starlight, that you combined the flavors of all the courts into a menu that was as varied and enchanting as Prythian itself. Word quickly spread of the remarkable dishes served within, and soon, it wasn’t just the citizens of Velaris who came to dine—High Fae from every court sought out your creations.

One such evening, as you oversaw the final preparations for the dinner service, the door to your restaurant swung open, and in walked a familiar face—Elain Archeron. Elain had been wandering through Velaris, taking in the beauty of the city, when the warm, inviting aroma from your restaurant had drawn her in.

Elain was known for her gentle nature, her love of gardening, and her keen eye for beauty in all things. But tonight, she was here for something different—a new experience, a chance to explore another form of beauty through the culinary delights that had been whispered about throughout the city.

As Elain took her seat near a window overlooking the Sidra, she immediately felt at ease. There was a sense of comfort and warmth in the restaurant, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself walking over to greet her. She looked up with a warm smile, her eyes bright with curiosity and a touch of shyness.

“Welcome,” you said, your own smile reflecting her warmth. “I’m Y/N, the owner and chef here. It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Elain’s smile widened, and she nodded appreciatively. “I’ve heard so much about this place, I just had to come see for myself. The aromas alone are worth the visit.”

You chuckled, feeling an instant connection with her. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll make sure the food lives up to the expectations.”

As the evening went on, you found yourself returning to Elain’s table more than once, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You talked about your travels, the different courts you had visited, and the inspiration behind some of the dishes on the menu. Elain, in turn, shared stories of her own—of her love for gardening, the peace she found in the quiet moments spent among the flowers, and her growing appreciation for the little joys in life, like a perfectly prepared meal.

There was something comforting in the way you both connected, as if you had known each other for much longer than just one evening. By the time dessert arrived—a delicate pastry inspired by the flavors of the Summer Court—you and Elain were chatting like old friends, the conversation punctuated by shared laughter and the occasional appreciative hum as she tasted each new dish.

As the night drew to a close, Elain hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’d love to come back,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

You smiled, genuinely pleased by the idea. “I’d like that. You’re welcome anytime, Elain.”

Elain quickly became a regular fixture at your restaurant, her visits growing more frequent as the two of you bonded over shared stories, laughter, and the occasional glass of wine. It wasn’t long before your casual conversations began to take on a more personal tone, with Elain confiding in you about her life, her hopes, and her dreams.

One evening, after the dinner rush had died down and the restaurant had settled into a peaceful hum, Elain arrived with a particular glint in her eye. You noticed it the moment she walked in, her steps lighter, her smile brighter. She took her usual seat by the window, and you didn’t waste any time joining her, a knowing smile on your face.

“Alright, Elain,” you said, sitting down across from her. “You’re glowing tonight. What’s going on?”

Elain blushed, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. “It’s nothing, really… Well, maybe it’s something. I don’t know.”

You leaned in closer, eyes wide with curiosity. “Come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that. Spill!”

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. “There’s… this male,” she began, her voice soft but filled with excitement. “I’ve been trying to get his attention for a while now, and I think… I think it might actually be working.”

You couldn’t help but squeal in delight, clapping your hands together. “Elain! This is amazing! Tell me everything—who is he? How did it start? What’s he like?”

Elain giggled at your enthusiasm, her own excitement bubbling to the surface as she began to share the details. “He’s… well, he’s different. Reserved, I guess you could say. But there’s something about him that just draws me in. He’s kind, in his own way, and he has this quiet strength that I really admire.”

You listened intently, hanging on her every word as she described this mysterious male who had captured her attention. It was clear that she was smitten, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for her.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, your mind already racing with ideas. “How are you going to win him over?”

Elain smiled shyly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Well, I thought… maybe I could start by cooking for him. You know, something simple but special. He loves good food, and I think it might help him see… well, see me.”

You practically jumped out of your seat with excitement. “Elain, that’s perfect! And you’re in the right place—I can help you with recipes, tips, anything you need. We’ll make sure this meal is unforgettable.”

Her eyes lit up with gratitude. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Of course!” you replied, beaming. “This is what friends are for. And besides, I love a good love story. We’ll make sure he can’t resist you after this.”

From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. Elain would visit the restaurant every few days, sometimes to try out a new dish, other times just to chat and share the latest developments in her budding romance. The more she talked about this male, the more you could see how deeply she cared for him, and it made you all the more determined to help her succeed.

You spent hours in the kitchen together, experimenting with different ingredients and techniques, crafting meals that were not only delicious but also filled with meaning. Elain would watch you work, her eyes wide with admiration as you explained the significance of each spice, each flavor, and how it could be used to convey emotion.

“There’s a language in food,” you told her one afternoon as you kneaded dough for a loaf of bread. “Every dish tells a story. When you cook for someone, you’re sharing a part of yourself with them. It’s intimate, in a way.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully, her hands busy chopping herbs for the soup you were preparing. “I never thought of it like that, but it makes sense. I want him to know how I feel, even if I can’t always find the words.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for your friend. “Then we’ll make sure every bite he takes is filled with love.”

As the days turned into weeks, Elain’s visits became a highlight of your day. She would burst through the door, her eyes sparkling as she recounted her latest interactions with the male who had stolen her heart. You would listen with rapt attention, offering advice and encouragement, celebrating every small victory and reassuring her during moments of doubt.

“He loved the soup,” she told you one evening, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “He said it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And I think… I think he’s starting to notice me.”

You grinned, feeling a surge of pride. “I told you, Elain. No one can resist good food, especially when it’s made with love.”

She laughed, her joy infectious. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve helped me so much.”

You waved off her gratitude with a smile. “Nonsense. You’re the one doing all the hard work. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

But the truth was, you had come to care deeply for Elain and her happiness. It wasn’t just about the food anymore—it was about seeing your friend find the love and connection she so deserved. And as she continued to come back, sharing her hopes and dreams, you couldn’t help but feel that you had found something special too.

Your friendship with Elain had become a source of joy and fulfillment, a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections were forged in the simplest of moments—over a shared meal, a quiet conversation, or a burst of laughter that echoed through the night.

And so, as the seasons changed and the nights grew longer, you continued to help Elain in her quest to win over this mysterious male, knowing that whatever the outcome, you had found a true friend in her. A friend who had come into your life unexpectedly, but who had quickly become an irreplaceable part of it.

Weeks had passed since you and Elain had first started crafting meals together, each one a carefully planned step in her quest to win over the male who had captivated her heart. Every visit, every dish, brought a new story, a new glimmer of hope in her eyes. You were genuinely happy for her, thrilled to see her so full of life and excitement. So, when she asked if she could bring him to your restaurant for dinner, you couldn’t have been more supportive.

“Of course, Elain!” you’d said, flashing her an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect. It’ll be a night he won’t forget.”

You’d spent the entire day preparing, selecting only the finest ingredients and crafting a menu that would showcase the very best of what your restaurant had to offer. You wanted this night to be special for her—special for them. You had no idea how special it would become, for reasons you never could have imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city of Velaris in a warm, golden glow, Elain arrived at the restaurant with a male by her side. You couldn’t quite make out his features at first, but the way she clung to his arm, her eyes bright with anticipation, told you all you needed to know. This was the one.

As they stepped into the softly lit dining room, you finally got a good look at him—Azriel, the shadowsinger of the Night Court. You had heard of him, of course, through whispers and stories, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment your eyes met his.

Elain beamed as she introduced the two of you, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “Azriel, this is Y/N, the wonderful chef I’ve been telling you about. And Y/N, this is Azriel.”

He extended his hand to you, his expression polite, reserved. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.

You reached out, intending to greet him with the same friendly courtesy you offered all your patrons. But the moment your hand touched his, something shifted in the air—a sudden, overwhelming rush of heat and energy that took your breath away. The bond snapped into place with such force that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

For a split second, the world around you faded, and all you could feel was the pull, the undeniable connection that tethered your soul to his. His eyes widened in shock, and you knew he felt it too—the bond, the realization that fate had just entwined your lives in a way neither of you had expected.

But as quickly as the bond formed, reality came crashing back down. Elain was standing there, her eyes full of hope, completely unaware of the storm that had just erupted inside you. She had no idea that the male she was so clearly infatuated with, the one she had been working so hard to win over, was now bound to you in a way that went beyond anything you could have ever imagined.

Panic surged through you. How could this happen? How could you possibly accept this bond when it would mean shattering the friendship you had built with Elain, when it would mean taking away the one thing she wanted so desperately?

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

With a forced smile, you quickly withdrew your hand from Azriel’s grasp, the warmth of the bond lingering like a phantom touch. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you managed to say, though your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, confusion and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself look too long, couldn’t let yourself feel what was brewing inside you. Not when Elain was standing right there, her happiness hanging in the balance.

“Please, take a seat,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the table you had specially prepared for them. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

Elain smiled, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, and took her seat. Azriel hesitated for just a moment before following suit, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes again. You couldn’t.

As the evening went on, you did your best to stay professional, to act as if nothing had changed. You brought out dish after dish, each one more exquisite than the last, all while ignoring the fire burning in your chest. Every time Azriel tried to catch your eye, every time he tried to speak to you, you found a reason to turn away, to focus on something—anything—else.

Elain chattered on, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Azriel. She complimented the food, praised your skills, and even mentioned how much Azriel seemed to be enjoying himself. And through it all, you kept up the facade, kept pretending as if the bond snapping into place hadn't turned your entire world upside down.

But it was getting harder. With every glance Azriel sent your way, with every quiet question he tried to ask you in passing, it felt like the invisible thread between you was pulling tighter, demanding to be acknowledged. Yet, you refused to give in.

As the night dragged on, the tension between you and Azriel grew unbearable. He could sense it—you knew he could—but Elain remained blissfully unaware, happily recounting the gossip from the latest happenings in Velaris, smiling every time she caught Azriel glancing her way.

Azriel's eyes kept drifting back to you. Not once, not twice, but every time you approached the table, as if he couldn’t stop himself. You could feel the weight of his gaze burning into you, the way his expression darkened each time you brushed past him without so much as a word. He knew you were avoiding him, and he didn’t like it.

When you brought out the final dish—an indulgent dessert meant to close the evening on a sweet note—Elain excused herself to step outside for a moment, leaving you alone with Azriel for the first time since the bond snapped.

You could feel his presence before you even turned around, the quiet intensity of his gaze. And as you set the plate down in front of him, you knew you couldn’t avoid this confrontation any longer.

“Y/N.” His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, but the way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of you. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your voice cold and distant, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.

Azriel leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “Don’t lie to me. You felt it too.”

The bond. He didn’t have to say the word for you to know what he meant. It was a truth that hung in the air between you, undeniable and impossible to ignore. And yet, you had to. You had to protect Elain, to protect your friendship, no matter the cost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your heart aching with the effort it took to deny the pull you felt toward him.

Azriel’s expression darkened, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t shut me out.”

But you couldn’t let him in. If you let him in, if you allowed yourself to even consider what the bond meant, you would be betraying Elain in the worst way possible. How could you even think about being with him when she had spent weeks confiding in you, trusting you with her feelings for him?

“No, Azriel.” You stepped back, your voice firmer this time. “I can’t.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Why? Because of Elain?”

You winced at the mention of her name, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on your chest. “She cares about you. A lot.”

Azriel's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s not like that between Elain and me.”

But you shook your head, refusing to let yourself believe it. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my friend. I can’t—I won’t—do this to her.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Azriel opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sound of the door opening broke the silence.

Elain re-entered the dining room, a bright smile on her face as she made her way back to the table. “Sorry about that,” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Azriel. “What did I miss?”

You forced a smile, masking the turmoil raging inside you. “Nothing,” you lied, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “Just making sure everything’s perfect.”

Elain beamed, clearly pleased with how the evening had gone. “It really has been perfect, Y/N. Thank you so much for everything.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally looked away, the tension in his jaw clear as he nodded in agreement. “Yes… thank you.”

You nodded once, offering them both a stiff smile before excusing yourself from the room, your chest tightening with every step you took away from them.

As you retreated to the quiet of the kitchen, your hands bracing against the counter, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. The bond had snapped. Azriel was your mate. And yet, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it.

You had promised yourself you’d never hurt Elain. And if shutting down every advance Azriel made, if pushing away the one person the Cauldron had chosen for you was the only way to keep that promise, then that’s exactly what you would do.

Even if it tore you apart.

Back in the kitchen, you leaned heavily against the counter, your hands gripping the cold marble surface as you tried to regain your composure. The bond had snapped, and with it, any sense of stability you had managed to hold onto throughout the evening. The world felt off-kilter, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink.

One of your sous chefs, a sharp-eyed female who had worked with you since the restaurant’s inception, noticed your pallor. She set down the pan she was holding and approached you, concern evident in her eyes.

“Y/N,” she began cautiously, her voice gentle but probing, “are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a nod, though you knew your expression wasn’t convincing. “I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice was shaky and unsteady.

She frowned, clearly not buying your response. Her eyes scanned your face, taking in the unusual paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. “You don’t look fine. Do you need to sit down? Maybe get some air?”

You shook your head, trying to brush off her concern, but the weight of the bond pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “No, I’ll be okay. It’s just… been a long night.”

She hesitated, still studying you closely, before glancing around the bustling kitchen. “But, Y/N,” she continued, her tone turning more inquisitive, “it’s strange. You always insist on preparing Miss Elain’s meals yourself, especially when she’s bringing a guest. But tonight, you didn’t even touch the preparation. You left it all to us.”

You froze at her words, the reality of what had happened sinking in even deeper. She was right—normally, you would have insisted on handling every detail of Elain’s meal, wanting to ensure that everything was perfect for your friend. But tonight, when it mattered most, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to do it.

The truth was, the moment you realized Elain was bringing someone special, you couldn’t bring yourself to touch the ingredients. You had let the staff handle everything because deep down, some part of you knew something was about to change—something you weren’t ready to face.

“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to find some semblance of an explanation. ���I just thought… maybe it was time to let you all handle it. You’re more than capable.”

She tilted her head slightly, her frown deepening as she searched your eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time, even though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. “Yes, I’m sure. I trust all of you with the kitchen. You don’t need me hovering over every detail.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she didn’t press the issue further. Instead, she offered a small, supportive smile. “Well, if you ever need a break, don’t hesitate to step out. We’ve got things under control here.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I appreciate it.”

With a final nod, she returned to her station, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the crushing weight of the bond you were trying so desperately to ignore.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to push away the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Azriel’s eyes, the way they had widened in shock and recognition when the bond snapped into place. You couldn’t forget the warmth of his hand in yours, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to just the two of you in that fleeting, life-altering moment.

But Elain… you couldn’t do this to Elain. You couldn’t shatter her hopes, her dreams, just because of a bond you had never asked for. So, you did the only thing you could—you steeled yourself, pushed down the emotions threatening to break free, and vowed to keep your distance from Azriel, no matter how much it hurt.

You would be there for Elain, just as you always had been. You would help her win over the male she had been trying so hard to impress, even if it meant denying your own heart in the process.

Because that’s what friends did. They put each other first, no matter the cost.

And as you stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking utensils, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would protect Elain’s happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

—

Azriel sat in the sitting room of the townhouse, surrounded by the familiar faces of the inner circle, yet he felt completely out of place. The evening had been an unexpected whirlwind of emotions, leaving him reeling from the bond that had snapped so suddenly and without warning. He had come here to find solace, to clear his mind, but every thought seemed to spiral back to you—the way you had looked at him, the way you had recoiled after the bond had formed during dinner at your restaurant.

He couldn’t understand it. How could something so significant be brushed aside so easily? He had tried to reach out to you, to understand what was happening, but you had shut him down, leaving him to grapple with the weight of the bond on his own.

The others were chatting around him, the sound of their laughter and conversation filling the room, but it all felt distant, muffled. Azriel’s mind was too clouded to focus on anything they were saying. He was trapped in a loop, replaying the moment over and over in his head—the spark, the connection, the way your eyes had widened in recognition before you quickly masked it.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed it when Rhysand mentioned your name.

“You know, Y/N’s restaurant is one of the best in Velaris,” Rhys was saying, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Feyre and I went there a few nights ago, and it was nothing short of incredible.”

Feyre nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up at the memory. “The food was amazing. Every dish was like a work of art. She really has a talent, doesn’t she?”

Mor, who was lounging on one of the couches, joined in with a grin. “That’s not even the half of it. Y/N’s got restaurants all over Prythian—one in each court, if you can believe it. She’s become a bit of a legend in the culinary world.”

Azriel’s heart sank further as they continued to praise you, each word driving the knife deeper into his chest. It wasn’t that he disagreed with them—he knew you were remarkable, talented, someone to be admired. But right now, every mention of your name was like salt in a wound that was already festering.

Cassian, who had been listening with a smirk on his face, finally spoke up, his tone playful. “Sounds like Az here missed out on one hell of a meal tonight. Maybe he’ll have to go back and get a taste of what everyone’s raving about.”

Azriel tensed, the comment hitting far too close to home. He knew Cassian was just joking, but the implication—the reminder of what had happened tonight—was too much to bear. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, his movements abrupt enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“Az?” Feyre called out, concern lacing her voice as she watched him head for the door. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he muttered something about needing some air and quickly left the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on his back as he made his escape.

As the door closed behind him, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Everyone exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Azriel’s sudden departure.

“What’s gotten into him?” Rhysand wondered aloud, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Cassian, never one to let an opportunity for humor pass by, snorted and shook his head. “Probably just realized he’s been a brooding mess all night and couldn’t handle the idea of someone actually having a good time.”

Mor chuckled, though there was a trace of worry in her eyes. “Or maybe he just can’t handle the fact that Y/N’s cooking is so damn good, it knocked him off his game.”

Rhysand sighed, glancing toward the door Azriel had just walked through. “He’s been off since he got back tonight. Maybe something happened.”

Feyre bit her lip, her expression softening. “I hope he’s alright. He seemed… different.”

Cassian, ever the optimist, leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. “He’ll be fine. Az is tougher than all of us combined. He just needs some time to brood in his room, and he’ll be back to his grumpy self in no time.”

The group shared a few more laughs at Azriel’s expense, but the concern in their eyes never fully faded. They all knew Azriel well enough to understand that when he withdrew like this, it meant something was seriously bothering him.

Azriel’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to his room, the quiet of the hallway amplifying the thoughts swirling in his mind. As soon as he entered, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the noise, the chaos of emotions inside him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of your hand in his, the way the bond had snapped into place like it had always been there, waiting. The connection was undeniable, and yet… you had denied it. Denied him.

Why? The question gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He had seen the recognition in your eyes, the brief moment when you had felt it too. But then, you had shut down, shut him out as if the bond meant nothing.

It was more than just confusing—it was painful. Azriel had spent centuries in the shadows, watching from the sidelines as his friends found their mates, found love. He had accepted his place, accepted that perhaps it wasn’t meant for him. And then, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed. You had changed it.

And now… now he was left in this strange limbo, caught between the undeniable pull of the bond and the walls you had erected between you.

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to storm back to your restaurant, to demand answers, to make you acknowledge what had happened. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force you to accept the bond, couldn’t force you to feel something you clearly weren’t ready to face.

With a frustrated sigh, Azriel pushed off the door and crossed the room, heading to the window that overlooked Velaris. The city was peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, but his mind was anything but. He rested his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes scanning the distant lights of the city below.

“Why?” he whispered into the empty room, his voice tinged with a desperation he rarely allowed himself to feel. “Why won’t you let me in?”

But the night offered no answers, only the quiet whisper of the wind as it brushed against the windowpane.

—

The next day passed in a blur. You threw yourself into your work, letting the familiar rhythm of chopping, stirring, and plating distract you from the turmoil brewing inside. The restaurant had been busy, as always, with customers filling every table, their laughter and chatter echoing through the dining room. But despite the bustle, you couldn’t shake the heavy weight in your chest—the bond that you were trying so desperately to ignore.

When the last customer had left, you sent your staff home, insisting that you would handle the closing on your own. You needed the time alone, needed to clear your head without the distraction of others around. As the front door clicked shut behind the last of your employees, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft sound of the knife in your hand as you prepped ingredients for the next day. The rhythmic motion of slicing through vegetables was soothing, almost meditative. But as you worked, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still coiled tight in your chest.

You were focused on the task at hand, chopping carrots with practiced precision, when a voice cut through the silence, making you freeze in place.

“I bet you could be good with a sword with how you work that knife,” came the familiar, deep voice, tinged with a hint of amusement. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be those carrots.”

Your hand stilled mid-slice, the knife hovering just above the cutting board. You knew that voice all too well—Azriel.

Slowly, you turned to face him, finding him standing just inside the doorway to the kitchen, his expression guarded but his eyes full of determination. He had changed out of his usual leathers, dressed instead in a simple tunic and trousers, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from the previous night hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. You could feel the bond thrumming faintly between you, a constant reminder of the connection you were trying so hard to deny.

But you knew why he was here. You had been avoiding him all day, refusing to even think about the conversation you knew was coming. But now, with the restaurant empty and the two of you alone, there was no escaping it.

You set the knife down on the counter, wiping your hands on a nearby towel as you steeled yourself for what was about to happen.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm as you faced Azriel. The tension in the room was almost palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. You had been dreading this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” you said, your voice firm, though you could hear the tremor in it. “We can’t do this, Azriel.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes. “Why not? Y/N, you felt it too. The bond—it snapped into place. We can’t just ignore that.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the look on his face. “I’m not ignoring it. But I can’t—I won’t act on it. Not when Elain… Not when she’s been trying so hard to win you over.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in realization, and he took a step closer to you, his expression softening as he reached out. “Y/N, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Elain wasn’t trying to win me over… not in the way you think.”

You hesitated, frowning as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? She’s been telling me everything, Azriel. How she’s been trying to get your attention, how much she cares about you… I can’t do that to her. I won’t be the one to hurt her like that.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly frustrated but determined to set things right. “Y/N, you don’t have the full story. Elain… she’s not interested in me like that. She’s been trying to make Lucien jealous.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “Lucien? But… he’s her mate. Why would she do that?”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Yes, he’s her mate. But they’ve been going through a rough patch lately. Lucien’s duties as emissary for the Night Court have kept him away, and Elain’s been feeling… neglected. She thought that by spending time with me, by pretending there was something more between us, she could get a reaction out of him. It was never about me, Y/N. It was always about Lucien.”

You felt your heart drop as the realization hit you. “So, you were just helping her as a friend?”

Azriel nodded again, his gaze steady as he took a step closer to you. “Exactly. I was only doing this to help her. I never had feelings for her in that way, and she knows that. We were just… playing a part to get Lucien’s attention.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. “She didn’t tell me any of this.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Azriel said gently. “Or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. But I promise you, Y/N, there’s nothing between Elain and me. There never was. She’s still trying to figure things out with Lucien, and I was just trying to help her.”

You looked away, your mind racing to process everything Azriel was telling you. You had been so sure, so convinced that you were protecting Elain by shutting Azriel out. But now, with this new information, everything felt uncertain, like the ground had shifted beneath your feet.

“Azriel, I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. You had built up walls around your heart, walls meant to protect both you and Elain from the pain of betrayal. But now those walls were crumbling, leaving you vulnerable and confused.

Azriel took another step closer, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Don’t shut me out. Let’s talk about this—really talk. Give me a chance to show you that this bond isn’t something to be feared. It’s something that could be… everything.”

You stood there, trying to process everything Azriel had just told you. The confusion, the guilt, the realization that you had misunderstood everything—it all came crashing down at once. You looked away from Azriel, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to make sense of it all.

“Okay,” you finally muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Now I actually feel like a dumbass.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cringed internally. But when you glanced back up at Azriel, you found him staring at you with wide eyes for a moment—before a warm, rich laugh escaped him. It was a sound you hadn’t expected, a sound that cut through the tension and made your own lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

Azriel shook his head, still chuckling softly. “You’re not a dumbass, Y/N. Just… someone who cares a lot about her friend.”

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the weight of the misunderstanding began to lift. But even with the air between you lightened, you couldn’t shake the lingering worry, the uncertainty of what this all meant.

“I just… I don’t know you that well,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. “And this bond… it’s a lot to take in. I was so worried about Elain’s feelings that I didn’t even stop to think about how I felt. About how to navigate this.”

Azriel’s expression softened further, and he took a careful step closer, making sure not to crowd you. “I understand. The bond is… overwhelming, especially when it comes out of nowhere. And I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that’s something we can work on. We don’t have to rush into anything, Y/N. We can take this one step at a time, if that’s what you need.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the bond had snapped. There was no pressure in his eyes, no demand—just a quiet patience that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else, something warmer.

“But… what if this doesn’t work?” you asked, your voice small, the fear you had been trying to suppress finally finding its way out. “What if I can’t be what you need?”

Azriel’s eyes softened even more, and he shook his head gently. “Y/N, you don’t have to be anything but yourself. The bond doesn’t demand perfection—it’s just a connection, a starting point. We figure the rest out together.”

You swallowed, feeling the sincerity in his words. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but it was tempered now by something else—a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

“Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, but Azriel caught it nonetheless.

He smiled softly, his wings shifting slightly as if in relief. “Okay,” he echoed. “One step at a time.”

For a moment, you both stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, the bond humming faintly between you. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was something. And for the first time since the bond had snapped, you felt like maybe you could handle this—together.

Azriel extended his hand, not as a demand, but as an offer. “How about we start with something simple? A walk, maybe? Just to talk, get to know each other.”

You hesitated for a moment, the anxiety still lingering, but then you nodded slowly, reaching out to take his hand. His grip was warm, reassuring, and as his fingers closed around yours, you felt a little of that fear ease away.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “A walk sounds good.”

And as you both stepped out of the kitchen, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something worth taking a chance on.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 9 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Words 5.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

The change was weird. A lasting sour taste in your mouth.

It was sudden too. His withdrawal from your life was instant.

Rather than how it was when you were temporarily sharing his room, he didn't wake you up and say goodbye. You thought that was just a morning after an argument thing, but it lasted. Going into the next week he even changed it more.

He no longer let you share your mornings, you had to relearn to use your own alarm quickly. Your schedules conflicted more than just that as well.

Lunch would no longer work, he switched his patrol times and took on meetings instead of leaving the space open for you.

Dinner wasn't really a thing anymore either. He stopped telling you when he'd be home, and after the first week of him not being home till late, you gave up. Throwing yourself into work as well. Changing your hours so you could sleep in more and get home later. Just to eat some leftovers he packed up for you, before turning in.

Words weren't really exchanged anymore and it was weird. You shared a room, and a bed, yet never saw each other awake.

It felt like a break up. In the simplest of terms. It wrecked you for a while. Felt like you were trudging along as you waited for him like a puppy.

You knew he held grudges but you've never expected him to turn it onto you.

You wanted to mourn the relationship but felt like it wasn't a right you had. He was still your boyfriend, you think. And you talked after you woke him up getting into bed. A quick conversation, but a conversation nonetheless. But the relationship back peddled to way before he got the watch. It felt like how it was after your first kiss in first year. Consuming yourselves with school to avoid the talk.

His mom still called often, nothing changed with how she spoke to you. Nothing changed outside your relationship with him and it was weird. You don't even know if your friends have noticed and it's been months.

It was nearing the end of October, the argument happened in the middle of August.

And none of your friends even blinked an eye. When Katsuki refused an invitation they assumed the normal, not surprised to see you at the bar without him. Mei didn't even notice. When you brushed off your change of work schedule and said he changed as well, she didn't ask another question. Thinking you were only glum because of the negative side of the internet. Fans bashing you at any corner possible.

It didn't bother you much, felt like a fly buzzing around you constantly but it was liveable.

Getting pestered for more interviews, people trying to get an inside look at Dynamight's home life. But you followed Shoto's PR manager's advice and chose to stay out of the limelight. Only interviewing when it was about your work.

Your work was your baby after all. Especially recently, it was hard to get you out of the office before two in the morning. Having more heroes come to you than before. It was exciting to see your career grow, you were just slightly annoyed that it was because of Katsuki that it grew. But a win was a win.

Everyone agreed with you on that, your friends closed down a bar for you, wanting to celebrate how many clients you had. You were getting article after article written about your work, being named as the second-best individual support tech in all of Japan. Because obviously, they'd have rankings for that as well.

A blush instantly covered your face when you walked into the bar, Mei pushing you forward. She dragged you out of the lab for once and convinced you to show face.

Kirishima is the first to tackle you in a hug, letting Mina do the same right after. "Congrats," he patted your shoulder as he pulled you more into the bar.

Most of Class A was there for you, celebrating you. Other pros you met along the way as well. People that you stayed in touch with since high school. Anyone you would want to be there was there.

"You guys shouldn't have," you smiled at the group, it was contagious. Denki had a derpy smile on him while Mina was bouncing around.

Kirishima laughed you off, "You needed it, been stuck in that lab and it paid off." You shrunk in on yourself when called out, you hadn't really been showing up that often to group outings. Not nearly as much as you used to.

"I got your favorite Cake!" Mina skipped towards you as best as she could. The cake was custom-made for you, having only the best flavors.

"It's not my birthday," you felt the need to point out, given the size of the celebration. And the candles that topped the cake.

"Might as well be," Mina pushed, "You're a new person! Officially number 2 in Japan!"

You did feel like a new person, you've changed a lot in the past two months.

"Come on," Mei teased over your shoulder, "Blow out the candles!"

"Make a wish!" Mina cheered, pushing the cake closer to you. And with the people you knew, they joined in. Cheering you on.

"They're gonna melt, y'know," Sero urged you once move.

"Fine," you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in the past couple of months. Thinking of nothing in particular as you blew out the candles, only looking around the crowd after. Noticing the lack of a certain blonde.

Rather than letting your shoulders slump too much, you let yourself fall into the cheer from your friends.

It was how you've done things since. You stopped waiting around for him, for the first time since you were kids. You pushed past him, not looking at every notification on your phone and hoping it was him. It didn't take Izuku this long to move beyond Katsuki, so you don't know why you let yourself take this long. Living behind him for so long.

You were pushed from conversation to conversation, catching up with people you haven't seen in a while and then talking with your closest friends. Being handed drink after drink in the process.

"You've been working a lot," Izuku commented when you finally made your way to him.

"Yeah," you nodded happily, "It's paid off."

He furrowed his brows, "You shouldn't overwork yourself. You haven't had a day off in months."

"Not true, I take a day off every week," you corrected him, not knowing where he got that idea. You took a day off every week, taking time to sleep the entire time.

"But-" he looked so confused, "Kacchan said you're not home, like ever."

"Oh," you understood the confusion now, "I switched my off days."

"Why?"

You shrugged, not really wanting to get into this conversation. Especially not with him and not now. You'd fall apart instantly. The feeling and pressure of your fragile relationship sitting on top of your chest. "Needed a change, you know how it is."

"I'm here for you, I know I'm busy but if you need anything I'm here," he was taking on the concerned best friend role, like usual.

"Z', I'm fine, really," you brushed off his concern, "Better than ever, my career is taking off, that's all that matters."

"That's not all that matter-"

"I need to go thank Mina and Mei again for setting this up," you excused yourself and walked through the slowly dying crowd. Meeting with the two pink-haired girls that were chatting near the food.

"Why do you look so drained?" Mei called out instantly, Mina slapping her shoulder right after.

"Social battery is just nonexistent right now," you lied, picking up a piece of food.

Mina looked around the bar, "It seems like it's just your close friends now, everyone else left by now."

You sighed in relief, you wanted to go home somewhat. Yet you didn't want to go back to him.

"Hey, Mei," you got her attention, "Can I spend the night?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "Thought your social battery was dead though?"

"Friends don't count," you contradicted yourself and just prayed they wouldn't call you on it.

"Still, you never ask," Mei pointed out.

"I'm a new person," you grabbed another piece of food, filling your mouth so you couldn't be asked anymore.

"If you're mad at Bakugo for not showing up I wouldn't blame you." Mina spoke softly, "Dick move of him honestly."

"He's busy, it's fine," you defended him without another thought.

"No it's not, how many award shows have you been to for him?" Mei joined in. It felt nice they had your back, but it wasn't necessary.

You sighed, "I'm used to it. I'll have plenty more so it's fine."

Mina and Mei shared a look, not wanting to give in and forgive him as easily as you do, but not wanting to put you down either. "You're welcome to stay at mine," Mei finished the conversation.

A small gasp left Mina's mouth, eyes widening. "Bag of dicks is here," Mei groaned.

You couldn't help looking over your shoulder, seeing Katsuki for the first time awake in a while. Seeing Kirishima and Denki crowd him instantly. Greeting him warmly as you stood there. "I need a drink," you twisted your direction to head to the bar. Tonight was going to be a good night, not another about him.

Looking at him was too much, it hurt at first. Knowing your last real conversation was an argument. One where he threatened to take sex away from you, when he actually took everything him away. Just because you didn't want him to die for a stupid reason. It hurt to see everything on his side was fine.

It pissed you off. He was acting the same as you were, sure, but you would have gone to his award show. You would have been the first one there. Yet here he was, the last person to show after most left.

The bartender was quick to hand you a drink, watching and replacing it after you downed it all. You've been steadily drinking all night but a new buzz would help. Help the anger that was brewing over you.

You turned around when you had your second drink, wanting to sip on this one instead. Only getting more upset when he was still talking to his friends. Not even sparing you a glance. You let your head fall at this point, watching your shoes as you tapped your feet.

Any thought other than him would help, this wasn't about him. It shouldn't be.

For the past two months, you've been doing everything alone, and it's shown it's worth it. This was just another event that you had to get through. You'd just have to deal with him standing on the sidelines for once.

You saw Uraraka's white shoes before she spoke, "Do you want to join the group?"

When you looked up you saw that people pushed tables together, all of them sitting down together. How you didn't hear them move everything was surprising. Once you got rid of the shock, you turned back to her, "Yeah sure."

She smiled warmly, linking her arm with yours as she walked to the table with you. Sitting down next to you after you took your spot at the head of the table, next to him, unfortunately. You kept your body turned away from him, focusing on talking with her. The two of you didn't get to talk often after all. But you liked her nonetheless, she was the embodiment of welcoming.

The side conversations easily merged into one big conversation. You looked over the group as you leaned back in your chair. Sero was laughing as Denki rambled, Mei and Mina encouraging the conversation while Kirishima tried to reel it back in. Izuku was smiling fondly at the group, the same as Shoto. It was all your closest friends, it made you feel warm.

"It is not just a high school thing," Denki pointed at Sero laughing, "you're just mad that you couldn't." You were easily confused by his outburst, not having a clue what the conversation was about.

"No Nut November is like a middle school joke," Sero stated back.

"What is that?" Shoto asked, confused.

Denki and Sero started laughing, forcing Mina to explain, "It's a thing guys do, a challenge of not nutting for the full month of November."

"Nutting?" Shoto asked again.

"You're kidding!" Denki wheezed.

"Cumming," Kirishima answered, face cringing at the conversation. Everyone cringed besides Denki and Sero, who were too busy laughing.

"Why would you do that though?" Shoto was trying to piece together the concept.

"Only idiots do," Katsuki cut in. It was the first time you heard his voice so clearly all night.

Not being given a chance to soak in his voice, Denki starts defending the idea again, "You're only saying that cause you couldn't last that long."

"I could," Katsuki bit back, wanting to win at anything challenged.

"Please," Sero started teasing as well, "Bakugo you'd last a day."

"How the fuck would you know?"

"You either get some daily or never," Sero pointed out, "I'm falling on the likelihood of daily, knowing your girlfriend."

"Okay," you slapped your hands on the table, "Enough of that conversation."

Mina booed at you, having enjoyed the guys bickering.

"Thank god," you heard Izuku whisper in relief.

"I think I'm going to head out," you announced, standing up and giving Mei a nod so she knew she should get ready. You were thankful the bar was already nearly clean, no help was needed.

You looked down at Katsuki when you heard his keys, the sound familiar to you.

"Did you drive here?" Katsuki asked you, looking back up at you.

"Uh-" you looked at Mei, "I didn't."

"Need a ride back home?" he offered, standing up next to you.

It hurt to decline him, but you didn't want anything to do with him, not tonight.

"Ready?" Mei joined you by your side.

You looked between the two before settling on Katsuki, "I'm actually going to stay the night at Mei's." Any hope he had in his eyes left, face dropping in the slightest bit. You didn't notice the look he held until it was gone.

He looked like he got his heart ripped out and stomped on, but so did you.

"Look, if this is about me showing up late, I'm-"

A surprised laugh left your lips, it was mean. And the look on his face showed that he felt that it was mean as well. "This isn't about you Katsuki," you put it bluntly. It wasn't about him, tonight wasn't about him. You wanted to keep a good mood, and going home with him wouldn't do that.

You didn't give him the chance to reply before you grabbed onto Mei, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Going through all the goodbyes.

---

Mei and you shared the same horrible sleep schedule. She grabbed some wine as she let you collapse on her couch and turned the TV onto something for background noise the second you got to her apartment.

She handed you a glass before she sat down next to you, beer in her own hand. "I got to ask now, you know that right?"

You groaned, taking a sip of your wine, "Hit me with the questions." Avoidance wouldn't last in a small setting and you knew that.

"What the hell happened between you guys?"

"We're having a rough spot right now," you answered simply, shuffling further into the couch.

"That much is obvious."

"Fine," you gave in, taking a deep breath to give an actual answer, "I haven't really talked to him for two months."

Mei's face drained of all color, "What?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, swirling the wine in your glass.

"Are you broken up?" Mei reached a hand to rest on your forearm.

"No, at least," you thought for a second, "I don't think we are."

"How are you with someone you haven't talked to in months?"

"I don't know," you mumbled.

"What type of argument could have caused that?"

You wanted to laugh out of frustration, looking back on it was painful and stupid to you. Yet you were still so mad. "Y'know how I made him that watch?" she nodded, "Well, he asked me to make the watch for the reasons you thought. And he was fully relying on it. Having his quirk off every time he was next to me."

"Can't that kill you?" Mei asked.

"Yes, so I told him that and he turned it into a massive thing. I asked him to take it off, and he said no, so I told him I wouldn't touch him when he had his quirk off. Now we just don't talk," you explained quickly, chest tightening.

"But you're still dating?" you could tell she was trying to be sensitive to the situation.

All you could do was shrug, "I still share a bed with him, so I'm assuming yes."

"How come you don't talk to him?"

"I tried the first week, but when he changed his schedule around to avoid me, I did the same."

"So that's why-"

"Yeah, it's done a lot of good for me though. I've finally grown a lot more. My career is at a high and it's only up from now. I'm no longer just in his shadow. Honestly, I'm thankful for the fight. I finally feel like an adult. I don't need anyone to get me where I am and it's refreshing," you admitted. A lot of good has come from it, and you weren't going to ignore it.

"But you love him?" Mei asked, trying to make sure.

"Of course, he just isn't my life."

"You're not going to try for him? You have been each other's since you were five," Mei worded slowly.

"I'm not reaching out to someone who doesn't want me, Mei," you looked at her, firm on what to do about everything. It was already settled before but now you've actually said it. "I don't know why it took me forever to realize, I wish I did when Izuku did. I would be a lot further in life."

"You already are far in life, you're not even twenty and your 2nd best support tech-"

"I could have been first-"

"No," Mei shook her head, "I'm sorry to say it, but you're only this far because of him. Because of your friends."

"Mei-"

"I'm not wrong, you've been given endless support. Without that? You would still be fumbling behind everyone else. You can't get anywhere in life solely on your own."

"Well, it wasn't only him," you pointed out. You agreed with her, your friends helped a lot.

"It was majority him," she pointed out.

You rolled your eyes, "Don't you somewhat hate him?"

"I still know he's good for you, and if your entire relationship goes to shit over this, I'm not letting myself be a part of it. Is he an asshole for showing up late? Yes, fuck him for that. Is he a dick for throwing a fit about kissing and not talking to you? Absolutely. But he is also the man who loves you the most, he's been there for you so many times. Are you going to throw that away?"

"I'm not throwing shit away, he is," you defended yourself, tears lining your eyes.

"Your not even trying-"

"I shouldn't have to," you stood up, "I tell him everything while he keeps himself away. I'm fucking done. If he wants me, he needs to tell me."

"What are you doing?" Mei questioned, seeing you grab your things.

"Leaving," you said firmly.

"You don't have a car-"

"I'll walk," you spit out, slamming the door to her apartment as you left. Breaking down when in the elevator. You wanted tonight to be about you, about your success. Yet as always, it turned out to be about him. You thought you'd grown out of being only mentioned because of him.

You walked on uneasy footing until you got out of her block. She was your best friend and she didn't even understand. It made you wish you talked to Izuku.

The street lamps lit up your bag as you looked for your phone. Glancing at the time before you dialed his number. His sleep was fucked up too, so you weren't worried about waking him up

"Are you okay?" was the first thing he said, full of concern. It was 3 in the morning after all.

"No," you choked on a sob, choosing to lean on a wall rather than continue walking. You didn't even know where to walk.

"What's going on? Do I need to get you-"

"I'm safe," you cleared up your throat, "I'm just struggling."

"Why?"

"Katsuki and I are in a rough patch, Mei doesn't get my side on it, and I can't turn to him," you rambled, "I just don't know what to do."

"Just breathe right now, you're going to get worse if you continue like this," he counted for you to follow. Performing his hero script as he calmed you down.

You let yourself sit on the concrete, leaning your back onto a random building as you rested your head on your knees.

"Okay," you whispered into the phone, "Katsuki and I haven't talked in two months."

Izuku was a rambler but he was also a good listener. Letting you get out any detail you needed before even opening his mouth. So you told him everything, leaving out any sex-related things. Telling him Katsuki used the watch to hug you or kiss you, so a truth in the cover-up. He could draw up that conclusion on his own.

"I was just thinking that maybe you'd understand," you finished, "I'm just so tired of reaching out to him."

"I get it," he started, "Probably the only one that does. He locks himself off and just expects you to come chasing for him. And the second you don't, he throws a fit. You should let him, I know it's hard, but he needs to grow up as well. You told him your concern and he locked you out, he needs to be the one to let you back in."

You sighed in relief, "So I'm doing the right thing?"

"Yes, especially in a relationship. It shouldn't be so one-sided with communication. You come a long way in the past months, and he should acknowledge that. I love you both, and I hope you guys work past it, but if it doesn't then it's for the best," he spoke to you like a brother would. You didn't even notice when the dynamic between the two of you flipped. Him going from acting like a younger brother to the older brother.

"Thank you," you sniffled, trying to dry the tears that have been working down your face, "Mei thinks I'm throwing everything away."

"He's the one that pushed you out, he's throwing it away," Izuku pointed out. You hummed in agreement, looking down at your phone.

"Holy fuck," the time surprised you, it was nearing five in the morning, and it was a Saturday. You were thankful that the city wasn't awake yet. "I need to get home."

"You're not home?!" he squeaked into the phone, "Where are you?"

"I don't know," you answered honestly, standing upright and stretching your limbs out.

"What?!"

"I'll start walking home now," you tried to calm him down.

"Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"I'm fine Izuku, I'm maybe a block away from home," that seemed to calm him down. He let you hang up the phone, telling you to text him when you were home.

You were glad to have a hoodie at this point, pulling the hood up to hide your tear-streaked face as you walked back home. Needing the ten-minute walk to calm down. Think for yourself.

While you fully agreed with Izuku, you also saw Mei's point of view. She wanted you happy, and you were happy with Katsuki. You didn't want to break up with him, you loved him fully. But if he couldn't meet you halfway, you weren't going to rush to fill that emptiness he left. You'd rather move on to better things. Maybe find someone who would.

With your head hung low the entire walk back to your apartment, you didn't even notice you were in the elevator until it opened on your floor. Having walked all the way on a full autopilot. Thinking of your relationship that overtook one of the biggest days of your career.

You opened your door with a sigh, throwing your keys on the shelf before turning into the kitchen for some water. Filling up a glass before you walked to the basket of blankets in the corner of the living room.

The second you turned around to walk to the couch you dropped your glass. A shocked scream left your lips when you saw Katsuki sitting there in the dark.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you hissed at him, confused as to why he was sitting in the dark and not in his room.

"I was sleeping," he answered.

"Here?" you shot back, bending down to pick up the broken glass.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Mei's?"

You squeezed your hand in annoyance, only noticing the burn of the cut then.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you turned his concern down, throwing away the broken glass when you walked into the kitchen. Thankful that it broke into big pieces rather than small. You ran your hand underwater as you ignored him.

"You're bleeding," it was clear he was groggy with sleep.

"No shit," you answered plainly.

"Fuckin' c'mere," he moved near you, trying to grab your hand only to get swatted away.

"I can take care of myself," you snapped at him, moving to grab a paper towel, trying to dry up the small cut.

"Think I don't fucking know that?" he asked back, agitated at your reactions to him. You waited for the bleeding to stop before throwing away your trash and grabbing a bandaid to cover the small cut to your finger.

You shrugged, "Never know with you. Never tell me anything. Don't know what you know or don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I-" you sighed, you didn't want to get into it, "Nothing, I'm tired." You walked past him again, grabbing a blanket and getting comfortable on the couch.

"You're sleeping down here?"

"Yeah, go to bed Katsuki," you turned away from him.

"Kats," he said softly, making you turn to face him again.

"What?"

"You stopped calling me Kats, it's only this Katsuki bullshit now."

"Whatever, Katsuki," you dismissed without thinking, turning back over as you tried to forget how he looked just then. It's how he looked at the party, just ten times worse.

"What happened to us?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was clear he wanted you to do the talking. But if he wanted to actually talk, he had to first.

"This," he paused, silence filling the air before he cleared his throat only for his voice to crack regardless, "This isn't what I want."

"You never told me what you wanted," you couldn't help but reply.

"I'm not good at this type of shit," he was angry at himself but you wouldn't fall into this pity party for himself. "I didn't think you'd change your schedule."

"You changed yours."

"I only did that because I needed to think," he defended.

"For two months?"

"I switched it back after but you weren't home, and haven't been since."

"So you couldn't have called? Asked me when I did get home at night? Woke me up in the morning to talk?"

"You could have done the same."

"I always do that Katsuki," you turned to face him, "I'm always the one fucking chasing you. And I'm done."

He choked, "You're done?"

"I'm done chasing after you," you clarified, "I've met you halfway, time after time, you just need to do the same."

Silence buzzed around the living room. The two of you were just staring at each other. Both are equally heartbroken. You looked him over for the first time in months.

"You're still wearing the watch," you pointed out, seeing the gleam of it on his wrist.

"You gave it to me," he replied, "I haven't used it since, by the way."

"Good."

He took a shaky breath in, "I'm so fucking sorry, Brains." You waited for him to continue, "You were right, I wasn't using it just as a crutch. I was completely relying on it." It hurt to hear it from him, you already knew it was true. "I, fuck," he ran his hand over his face, "I went to the doctor too, they said if I used it that much it'd kill me. Having my quirk completely off."

You couldn't be more glad about the fight now, knowing it kept him from killing himself. Sure it wouldn't kill him immediately, but over time it would just get worse and worse for his health.

"Once I found out you were right, I just couldn't bear the thought. I don't feel safe around you without my quirk dampened and now I can't," he admitted, "I feel my quirk just with this conversation. I don't want to hurt you."

"You were late to the party," you pointed out instead, "You never even congratulated me."

He hung his head, "I got sidetracked with trying to get a gift- but I was going to congratulate you at home."

"Doesn't excuse it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he reached into his pocket, "I got this for you though." He tossed the small bag at you.

You gave him an unsure look before opening it, first seeing a sticker of "World's Best Tech" an inside joke between the two of you. He hated the idea of #1 mugs and things like it, claiming he was better than everyone else. The next was just a small necklace, something easy to wear with everything.

"It doesn't make up for shit, and that's not what I'm trying to do with it," he said after you stared at the gift for a while.

"I know," you spoke softly, the gift was thoughtful for your relationship.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, I knew you could do it," he followed.

Tears were hitting your eyes harder than before. Despite claiming you didn't need him. You wanted to hear him say that so bad.

You saw him move to get up when he saw your tears, sitting back down and grabbing his own hands when he decided against it. You patted the seat next to you. As long as his watch wasn't on, you were okay. He rushed immediately to your side, tugging you into a hug before he could overthink.

"I should have talked to you a lot sooner," he spoke into your hairline, leaving a kiss on your forehead after.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I can't be there for you like this," he said softly.

You pulled back from him, "What do you mean?"

"Can't hug you and shit," he grumbled, pulling you back into him. Not wanting you to see his face.

You sat in silence for a while, soaking in his words and the perspective he likely had the past two months. He could have thought you stopped talking to him because he couldn't touch you anymore.

"I'm not mad that you can't touch me, I'm upset that you don't talk to me, in general," you spoke just as softly as he did, wanting to comfort him the way he was comforting you.

He let out a breath of relief, "It's gotten worse without you around."

"What did?"

"My quirk just goes off without you now, just the thought freaks me out enough. Fuckin' annoying," he confessed.

"Is it going to go off soon?" you wanted to be prepared to be pushed away from him. If he did it unannounced you'd likely cry. He just squeezed you closer.

"No," he said quietly, "It's finally calmed the fuck down."

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

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@supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @schniti-is-in-the-house @dumbbitchenergy17 @whydoyoucare866

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 002 . . .

previous next masterlist playlist

You floated through the next week like a ghost. You worked your usual shifts, took overtime for a few colleagues, barely spoke a word to anyone minus the patients you had to attend to and slept through the rest of the hours. You never saw the strange man again but you pondered a lot about that unusual night. The numbers on the card burned a hole in your pocket, every day becoming more tempting to dial.

It was like some form of twisted fate had heard your inner battle. You exited work with a phone flooded with messages and unanswered calls, all from the same number you had been avoiding. You sighed a little too loudly catching the attention of a passerby who didn't attempt to hide his scowl, you bowed an unamused expression on your face and quickly made your way towards the subway station. Your tired eyes read the messages over and over again.

You said Monday.

Don't give me the same shitty excuses.

Bring the money to the usual place or it won't just be pretty boy losing a kidney. Midnight, tonight.

You couldn't stand to look at it any longer, walking onto the train platform you tucked the phone into your backpack as far from your hands as possible. You took a seat, watching a train pull into the station. The doors opened and what looked to be college students exited, kitted in halloween costumes. It suddenly dawned on you that today was October 31st. Somewhere deep within you feel jealous. You’re here barely able to keep your head above the crashing waves, all your problems piling one on top of the other, ready to take you out any second. Your debts worry you most, you know the messages don't come lightly, they would happily take a body part or two just to cover what you owe. There was no way for you to get that kind of money so soon.

You groaned, forcing yourself from your racing mind to look at the notice board, your train was arriving in 8 minutes. You rested your head against the cold tiled wall, teeth nervously ripping at the skin inside your lips. A bad habit you were trying to break. Your fingers scraped against the card in your left pocket, you felt the grooves of the numbers carved into the back. Would it really be so bad? You could go and at least try, if you don’t win then you can just leave and give the loan sharks a kidney and maybe a lung too for all the interest they've added on top. You laughed out loud. You were going insane.

A few minutes until your train. There really was no other option. You pulled out your phone, dialling the eight digits and pressing call. It rang for a second then abruptly went through.

"Do you wish to participate in the game?" A voice on the other end questioned.

"Yes"

The male voice replied in an instant, "Seoul Tower, 11:30pm" You heard the faint rumble of your train approaching as the call ended.

Hushed whispers awakened you from your slumber. You reluctantly opened your eyes, they felt heavier than usual as did your limbs, as if they had been removed and reattached - and no longer belonged to you. You moved your pounding head to the side, rows of beds piled high greeted you. You slowly sat up in confusion. Your memory felt hazy, none of the pieces from the night before fitting together. You remembered leaving your apartment and getting into an unknown car, thinking now that probably wasn't the best of ideas but there was nothing after that. You took notice of the countless people making their way to the centre of the room - so bright and big it was blinding you, eyes squinting to see.

All of the people were dressed similarly. In matching green tracksuits, numbers stitched to their chest. You kicked away the thin blanket only now noticing you were no longer in your work scrubs. Like everyone else you were in a tracksuit that didn't belong to you, the numbers 382 rested against your chest. You should have felt some sort of panic at being kidnapped, like the woman beside you who was currently scanning the place in shock but instead your worries were on Namgyu. Even in the worst situation you were only scared for him. When the loan sharks arrived at the meeting place at midnight and hadn't found you there, ransacked your apartment and harassed your neighbours, it was him they would look for instead. They'd make good on their promise and probably kill him in the process. Your heart raced in fear thinking about it.

Commotion from the centre of the room pulled you from your darkening thoughts. Eight figures entered: all of them in red suits and black masks. You could vaguely remember one of them being the driver the night before.

"I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you," The masked man in the middle said, voice echoing across the room. "Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days, those who win all six games receive a handsome cash prize"

"Excuse me," a woman called out from across the room. You were too far to see properly, but you could faintly make out a face descending the stairs. “You said I'd be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me, so how can I believe you?" she asked the masked guards.

She was right, you thought. But right now you would do anything to get some extra cash in your pockets, so if it meant being kidnapped, then so be it.

"I apologise, please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game's security"

Another woman called, this time from somewhere at the front, "What's with the mask then? Is your face also a secret?"

"Yeah! Why are you hiding your face? Is this some kind of illegal gambling house?" A man cried out in agreement.

"Even the dealers don't cover their faces in those places" The same woman replied.

You watched as a hundred heads nodded in agreement.

The guards don't falter at the countless voices hurling questions at them, instead the centre one replied, "To ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality it is our policy not to reveal the identities of staff." He paused. "Please understand"

The same thing goes on for minutes, different voices from all over the room calling out, sometimes ridiculous, questions. Your head flies up at the mention of a familiar name, "Player 333, Lee Myunggi"

You found him in the crowd, only seeing the back of his head and the number 333 on his back. He looked up at the screen as it changed to a clip of him playing ddakji.

Just as a hand raised to slap him, the masked guard spoke up again, "Age 30, used to run a YouTube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappear"

You always told yourself if you somehow bumped into the man who was one of the leading factors in your relationship ending, you would hit him and never stop. But now looking at him he was getting everything he deserved, his debt was big enough karma.

The guard continued naming off names, all of them in similar or more debt than you. Your questions had finally been answered, only after everyone had been shamed for their piling money worries. The prize amount was 45.6 billion. You couldn't fathom ever having that kind of money, what could you even spend it on; other than the obvious. Everyone around you seemed to be feeling the same, shocked whispers filled the room.

The masked guard - the centre one with the square, said loud and clear, no emotion in his voice, "If you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form. Those who do not wish to participate please speak up now, we will always give u the chance to leave the games"

PLAYER CONSENT FORM.

1. A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit.

2. A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.

3. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie players will vote again.

4. If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.

SIGNATURE________.

You quickly signed the paper, no hesitation in your decision. You bowed your head at the guard, turning to leave the overflowing line. You noticed MG Coin, now known as Myunggi, signing where you once were. You walked back to the bed, eyes still on him. He turned, a little smile on his face that slowly dropped as two figures approached him.

Namgyu stood beside a purple haired boy. The number 124 attached to his chest. His hair was longer than it had been six months ago but his face was exactly as you remembered. No part of you was surprised to see him here. If money was involved, more than likely Namgyu also was. You felt stupid for worrying about him. All of your sympathy leaving at the sight of his smile, the same one you longed to forget.

You moved closer to hear their conversation but far enough away that they wouldn't notice. The purple haired one, player 230, spoke up, "You may not know me, but I know you. MG Coin" He waved his hands in front of his face while speaking. "I was subscribed to your channel and I lost a shitload of money, asshole"

"So did I," Namgyu agreed, both boys staring Myunggi down. "Money and my fiancée" He added, side-eying 230 for a reaction but he gave none.

You laughed, hand quickly covering your mouth at the stares from beside you. He had the audacity to act as if he wasn't also to blame, as if your relationship wasn't already broken long before.

"You've got the wrong person" Myunggi defended, moving to pass through them.

Player 230 stopped him with a hand on his chest, knocking him back a little, "I watched your content all day, every day. Now I see you in my dreams, motherfucker" He swore. He rested a hand against Namgyu's shoulder who looked at him awkwardly. "Was your name Namsu?" 230 asked.

"It's Namgyu from Club Pentagon" He replied. You felt your heart drop at the mention of the nightclub. It was a place of nightmares.

"Right," 230 replied, waving him off. Myunggi looked to the side, uncomfortableness written all over his face. You sat still as his eyes met yours but he quickly turned again. "Thanks to you, I bonded quickly with Namgyu here because we share the same pain" He finished.

The purple-haired boy turned to walk away and just as you thought it was over Namgyu spoke up again, "I thought the sons of bitches who made that coin fled to the Philippines with the money. So why are you here? Did they cut you loose?" He asked.

"What do you want from me?" Myunggi questioned.

Player 230 rushed forward, his hand grabbing the back of Myunggi's neck, gasps erupted in the room. "What do you think? Give me my money" 230 seethed.

The grip on his hair was strong as Myunggi fought back, "Did I force you to buy that coin?" He broke free, questioning both of them.

"You told us to bet it all, you fucker." 230's voice was angry. "You swore it'd shoot up! You said we'd be fucking idiots if we didn't buy it" His voice grew louder.

Myunggi took in a deep breath, repeating like he had been rehearsing his entire life, "You are responsible for the final decision on your investment, didn't you hear me say that at the end?" He paused. "You said you watched every day"

You in a way knew he was right. He didn't force Namgyu to waste your joint savings on a coin that only broke you apart, Namgyu had done that on his own accord. But you needed somewhere to place that blame and Myunggi happened to be that person.

Player 230 grasped Myunggi's zip-up, fist raised at his face. "You asshole" He bit through clenched teeth.

Namgyu attempted to break the two apart, "Hey calm down" He repeated. "People are watching, you don't wanna be on the news"

The three eventually broke apart, Namgyu following his new friend like a lost puppy. Myunggi watched the pair, you could sense a little fear and embarrassment on his face.

With them finally gone it only gave you room to think about Namgyu again. You were going to finish these games without bumping into him, as hard as it would be in such a small confinement, you didn't need to open old wounds. You would win that money, pay your debts and never have to face him again.

previous next masterlist playlist

notes . . . warnings for future chapters include child abuse, drugs, alcohol, death, toxic relationships & all the usual squid game stuff. will add them before the chapter they're included

taglist . . . let me know if you wanna be added!

[thewertsearch]

In that instant, her empire was gone. Gl'bgolyb's swan song wiped out her entire race, save the Condesce and her lone heiress, leaving the empire nothing more than a galactic necropolis of floating tombs.

I think that this would be a very interesting setting to explore, as the dust settles.

Picture it. You’re an alien race, one of thousands that have been enslaved by these awful galactic conquerors for untold centuries. One day, with no warning or apparent explanation, every single one of them starts howling in unbelievable pain, streams of technicolor blood erupt from their eyeballs, and they die.

Once the celebrations have died down, how does the galaxy respond? How do you rebuild civilization around such an enormous, unexpected power vacuum? Do the former colonies unite, salvage what they can from Alternian infrastructure, and try to form a government of their own? Does the universe devolve into anarchy, with everyone fighting over the mountains of resources now unguarded?

What happens to your sci-fi setting, when your Evil Galactic Empire is just... erased?

She should arrive any minute now. When she does, she will find nothing but ruins and dust.

And, in the midst of all of this – what do you do if you’re the lone Empress, the last of the trolls? How long can you survive, when every single being in the galaxy would shoot you on sight?

If she cared to look closer, she would find a city of slain exiles, a man on the moon, and a pair of black lovers locked in a deadly dance.

A man on one of the moons, anyway. We still don’t know anything about Alternia’s pink moon – and, considering the dark significance of the Green Moon, I’m awfully suspicious of its sister satellite. Who’s living there?

But whether she looks or not, one thing will find her with certainty. A new employment opportunity.

The Condesce is fresh out of options, and has nowhere else to go - and if there's one thing Scratch likes, it's a woman who's out of options.

Why, though? What use is a dethroned empress to Scratch – or English, for that matter?

Anyway, the last of the twelve ancestors arrived a bit late. In fact, she would cross through her portal six centuries after the descendants had come and gone.

I would raise the girl to be groomed for her calling. My lessons would emphasize obedience, mastery of the clockwork majyyks, and being locked in a room.

So that's what's up with Fauxradia.

Megido, I am so fucking sorry. In a comic packed to the brim with terrible parents, you still managed to win the lottery. The absolute fucking jackpot.

You literally cannot get any lower than being raised by Doc Scratch.

[tremendouscreationperson]

A little fic based off of this

Whenever I write an X Reader it's usually for chubby!reader but it's actually a plot point in this one

Chubby/bullied!reader x stan

You, Ford, Caryn and Filbrick sat in the front row.

Stan had a big fight tonight, the only reason his father came, and you were nervously tapping your leg. His opponent, Godfrey Davies, was bigger and looked meaner but you knew Stan could potentially pull it off.

The two entered the ring and Stan gave you a cheeky wink before his eyes caught his father. His whole expression changed when he clocked Filbrick.

"He better win." Ford commented.

You knew what Ford was implying. If Stan lost in front of his dad he would be crushed. And Filbrick was the type of man who would leave if he was bored so Stan would also have to put on a good show.

The two touched gloves and the bell rang.

You weren't a huge boxing fan but wouldn't deny the rush a match gave you. The adrenaline of the room coursed through your veins as each punch landed. Godfrey was strong, he had hit Stan's stomach a few times but Stan was quick enough to dodge any major strikes.

Godfrey managed to land a blow against Stan's cheek and your hand grasped Fords.

You glanced at Ford as an excuse to spy on Filbrick but the man gave nothing away. Merely enjoying? the show.

In the split second your eyes were off of Stan, he had managed to gain the upper hand with a series of quick jabs against Godfrey's right side.

"He's hurt him." Ford informed you. "See the twitch."

You followed his fingers, unable to see the twitch, alas you trusted Ford's intelligence. If Ford said Stan hurt him then he hurt him.

The two danced around each other for the remainder of the round, there was a soft tap here and a dodge there but otherwise it was quiet.

The next round was similar. There were the odd moments of carnal violence sprinkled in between their dance but it was the third round that mattered.

As Stan took a sip of water, he turned in your direction, his pale skin beginning to pinken as it swelled up. He gave you all a sloppy smirk and when the bell rang again, there was a new fire in him.

Stan kept low and stayed with defence until Godfrey tired himself out - punching ludicrously hard against Stan's forearm block - and just when Godfrey stopped to pant, Stan whacked him with an uppercut.

Godfrey stumbled backwards, wobbling on his feet. Stan was on him in an instant punching him in the face and forcing the man to the floor.

The ref called it and everyone cheered.

He had won!

This was a big deal.

He could now fight in a higher tier.

This was really good news!

You released Ford from your hug and he ran over to his twin. The boys embraced, clapping each other's backs, grinning from ear to ear.

Caryn was next, she slipped in the hug, squeezing her babies tight. You knew she said a cheesy joke along the lines of 'I didn't need a crystal ball to know you'd win' because the twins rolled their eyes in sync but there was no real malice behind the gesture.

Filbrick finally made his move: a pat on the shoulder. You knew it meant the world to Stan. He deserved it. He really did. He was glorious.

A photographer worked his way into the ring and told the family to smile but Stan stopped the photo.

"Wait, where's Y/N?" His eyes scanned the crowd that had formed, swarming the ring side. He had a lot of groupies, unsurprisingly. People loved a big strong man and it didn't hurt that he looked like that.

They landed on you and you smiled, waving awkwardly as he gestured for you to join them. The room was noisy and people were still cheering, drinks being drunk, music blaring so he didn't hear your reply. You tried to call out again but in the end shook your head, sheepishly.

It was his moment. He needed this. To be in a photo with his family. He could frame it.

Besides, you'd only ruin it.

You weren't exactly pretty.

A fact that everyone had relentlessly told you at school.

The only reason you were still alive was Stan and Ford's friendship, otherwise you'd have had to fight the onslaught of insults alone and you really didn't think you were strong enough for that.

Stan frowned momentarily before forcing a smile for the photo.

~~

"Doll face?" You were sitting in your garden, on the swing your dad had made, reading the Lord of the Rings. Turning your head you found Stan. He was standing next to you, hands in pockets. He had bruises on his cheek and a split lip you hadn't noticed at the time.

"Hi." You smiled up, closing the book. "How'd's it feel to be a winner?"

Stan chuckled, plonking down on the swing next to you. Your dad had to install another when you eventually made friends. "'little sore."

"I bet you don't feel it because your dad was proud of you." You mock punched his arm. "He really was."

Stan swivelled on the swing, the rope twisting together as he spun around.

You suspected he had something to say so kept quiet until he found the words.

Stan let go, spinning until he was back in the correct place.

"You know you're gorgeous right?" The words tumbled out.

They took you aback. You hadn't ever thought those words would come out of his mouth. "Pardon?"

He let out a shaky breath, gazing up at the sky. "You're really pretty. I don't know why Jorgie and her gang tell you otherwise. Like a damn movie star."

Where had this come from? "Wh-"

"The photo." He answered without needing the question. "I wish you were in it."

You didn't know what to say or how to respond. The only thing you could think to do was shyly smile and reach for his hand.

~~

"Filbrick, that's Y/N." You overheard Caryn whisper to her husband. They were in the Kitchen where you were planning on getting a drink. "She comes over all the time."

He huffed.

Did-did he not know who you were?

You were here every other day.

Hell, you once made the man dinner!

Caryn had been sick and the boys were useless so you came around and rustled up some grub for the four of them.

That was insulting.

"The fat one?" He questioned.

Fat?

Were you fat?

You glanced down at yourself, you could see your toes but maybe not as much as you should be able to?

"She's no-well, it doesn't matter. She's good for Stan..and Ford. Keeps them sane."

Caryn thought you were fat too?

You stepped away carefully, avoiding the spots in the wood that creaked, and nestled yourself back into the boys room. Settling next to Stan in his bed as they argued about nothing important.

~~

You'd declined every offer Stan made to go out. You didn't want to look like you were avoiding him but his parents thought you were fat and that had shaken your self image.

You were obviously not thin in the mirror and people at school called you fat and ugly all the time. So much that part of you believed it and part of you brushed it off but to hear it from them... From people you trusted...

You knew you were nothing great to look at. Stan being sweet was just him trying to comfort you, you probably embarrassed them.

In an effort to beautify yourself, your evenings were spent jogging mostly. It was awful and you hated it but you made sure to do it before dinner or you wouldn't eat.

"Oit." A voice called, you spun to see Stan running to catch up.

"Hey."

"What're we doing?" He fell into pace with you.

"Jogging." You offered.

"Har, har." He playfully shoved you. "Why are we jogging? It's the worst."

Your face split into a grin, loving how in sync the two of you were. "It really is! I hate it."

When you both rounded the corner, he repeated himself. "C'mon what are we doing?"

"Trying to lose weight." You answered.

"W-why?" Your reply had caught him completely off guard that he faltered. Stan had to speed up to match your pace again. "You don't need to."

A dark chuckle left you without your consent. "I heard someone talking-"

"Ignore the girls at school." He interrupted.

"It wasn't-" Jogging and talking was hard. "It was someone whose opinion I'd hate to admit I trust. They said it straight."

Stan made a face but didn't argue. He would let you win this round and later convince you to come to the diner and get a thick shake. He knew you weren't fat. Well, maybe you were but not in a bad way! You looked amazing! The meat on your bones was in all the right places. More to love like platonically.

Eventually the two of you came to a stop outside your house.

"I don't think jeans were designed for running." Stan tried to pry the fabric off his thigh.

"I'd never blame you, beautiful." He folded his arms. "Now, who do I have to beat up?"

You giggled. "Don't blame me. I didn't ask you to join me."

"No one." Your eyes rolled automatically.

"Hey, don't do that."

"I'm not doing anyth-"

Stan closed the distance, cupping your cheeks in his palms, forcing eye contact. "Tell me. 'cause you're perfect."

Why had he decided to be all sweet and flirty recently? He did know you were the butt of every joke, right? Like everyone else, he was well aware that boys would ask you out as a prank. Was this one? No, not your Stan.

Well he wasn't your Stan.

"Earth to Y/N." He manipulated your head, swaying it gently side to side.

"Huh?"

"Who called you fat?"

The words seemed to leave your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. Your mind hadn't even registered properly and they were released into the world. "Your parents."

The neutral expression morphed into anger. Stan's brows pulled as his pupils shrunk. A twitch occurred in his jaw. "My dad?"

"Your mom, too." You shrugged. "It's nothing massive, it's actually helpful. Now I know it's true I can-"

"No." He shook his head. "No, it's not. It's mean." Stan placed his forehead against yours and took in a breath. "When I say you are perfect, believe it. Don't change anything. Please, doll."

~~

The new few months played out in the usual fashion. You'd go to school, then theirs, they'd come to yours, the three of you would worry about test results, studying was tricky when the boys were helping - they always got off topic. It didn't take long before all the exams were finished and the school year was coming to a close meaning prom.

You and the twins went together. None of you officially had dates but that didn't matter because it was always you three vs the world.

A triangle was the strongest shape after all.

You arrived at the Pines house on time, barely giving the door a knock before it swung open. Stan was quick to exit and pulled you towards the car.

He didn't look back, settling you into the passenger seat as he rounded the car to the driver's.

"Stan?" You glanced at the front door. "Everything okay?" Caryn had begged you to come in and take photos less than a week ago. Maybe Stan knew you were embarrassed or maybe he was going back on his words... Maybe he was embarrassed of you.

Stan gave you a curt nod, his palms tightening in the steering wheel. You watched the knuckles whiten on his left hand before his right caught your gaze. There was blood on them.

Why was there blood on his knuckles?!

"Where's Ford?"

As if on cue Ford left the house, closing the door behind him and strode towards the car.

He slipped into the backseat and gave you a sheepish smile.

The car journey was blessedly short and weird to say the least.

You distracted yourself with the radio.

At school you took the obligatory "couple" photo. You stood between the boys arm in arm. Even if it was fake, it was the first time Stan smiled tonight.

You were led to the gym - they had dressed it up for a party but it was still just your school gym - and found a spot to stand and people watch.

Ford attempted to make small talk with others but he wasn't hugely successful, coming back each time with an 'aww shucks'. At least he didn't have punch thrown at him. Silver linings and all that, hey?

Stan was still being strange so you let him be. Sometimes he went quiet when he was thinking too hard. You hoped he was able to at least enjoy a bit of the evening.

He had just excused himself to use the toilet when Ford sprinted back to your side. "Finally!"

"What?!"

"He punched dad." Ford whispered.

Huh, it sounded like Ford told you Stan had punched Filbrick but that would be insane. "Care to run that by me again?"

"Dad said something and Stan shouted before he just socked him. It was intense. Dad then shook his hand!"

What?!

"Wait, I don't get it." You frowned. "Your dad's been an asshole for years, what made Stan snap?"

Ford shrugged but you knew he knew. Why wasn't he telling you? "Ask him."

"Oh, yeah, I'll just ask Stan 'why'd you finally decide to whack your dad?' Think about it for more than two seconds!"

Ford's eyes slipped over your shoulder and he nodded minutely. Stan was back in the room.

Your eyes immediately found his knuckles, they weren't bloodied but even from here you could see the slight pink hue. You turned to ask Ford something only to find he had disappeared again.

Stan made his way through the dancefloor and stopped by your side.

After Ford's confession the silence was maddening. You needed to ask why but how do you go about it? How do you just ask him? And his dad shook his hand? Was that a goodbye? Was Stan being kicked out? No, Filbrick wasn't that cruel.

"Fancy a dance?" You offered. Stan looked at you and then the crowd, unease splattered throughout his expression. "We don't have to."

"It is a dance, though." He commented. "Just- there's a lot of people."

"It's okay." You brushed him off. It wasn't a massive deal, you didn't have to dance at a dance.

"There wasn't anyone in the corridor by Mr Tymeh's. Could still hear the music." He didn't outright ask you but you'd been friends long enough to read between the lines.

"Lead the way."

The two of you left the gym and wandered past the toilets to the small 'office' Mr Tymeh ate his lunch and moaned at the less athletic students in.

Stan was right, you could hear the music from here and the corridor was empty.

"Wanna do this then?" He asked, making zero eye contact.

"Stan, we don't have to if yo-" You were unable to finish the sentence because he pulled you close, hands on your waist, and swayed.

Your hands met his shoulders and you let him move the two of you back and forth. The song wasn't meant for slow swaying but this half-dance was really sweet so you weren't going to complain.

"I like your suit." You brushed your fingers along his collar.

"Thanks, got mine and Fords for the price of one." He smirked cockily. "You, uh, you look beautiful as ever. That colour's real pretty."

You didn't give the compliment to get one, hopefully he knew that!! Yet it was sweet hearing the words. Choosing the colour was very hard, you didn't want to look good for everyone else, you wanted to feel good for yourself and when you finally decided what you were wearing you did feel good.

Maybe tonight you'd believe Stan's words.

Believe you were pretty passable.

Your brain was getting too distracting so you softly asked, "what happened to your hand?"

"Some schmuck." He shrugged. "No one important."

You pulled his hand from your hip and frowned at the knuckles. "That's not what Ford said."

Stan groaned. "That fucker."

"Are you alright?"

He looked into your eyes before nodding. "Yeah."

"Gonna tell me about it?" You raised a brow.

"He was just being an asshole." There was more to the story. There had to be. Filbrick had been an asshole for years and Stan hadn't snapped, so why now? Stan saw the confusion in your face and elaborated. "He made comments about you."

Your frown deepened. "You hit your dad for me?" You were not worth that. Why the fuck would he-

"Course I did." Stan paused. "He can say what he wants about me but not you." His eyes flickered to your opening mouth. "It was strange, he patted me on the back and shook my hand after. Proud of me for standing up I guess."

.

.

.

@nyx-universe @aceistheplace86

[halestrom]

“You should kiss me at midnight.”

Jake stilled, turning his head to stare at Rooster, well aware of the silence around them as the daggers stopped and stared at them. He thought of a dozen things to ask. Or say, as he leaned back in his chair and took in Rooster. His over shirt was long gone. Leaving him in clearly loved t-shirt with long faded words, a size or two small so it stretched across his chest and stopped above his bellybutton, a good few inches of tan skin bared. His hair was messy, alcohol and a long afternoon fading into night making his curls win the fight against whatever he used to keep them in place. He was sweaty, but they all were. The bar was sweltering, and Jake had long since unbuttoned his shirt, soaking up the attention in the form of eyes staring at his chest. Rooster looked good. He knew he did if the smirk on his face was any indication.

But Jake wasn’t ever gonna make things easy.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked, tilting his chin up, daring, commanding an answer worth his time.

Rooster didn’t back down. “I suck dick real well when motivated. And I love making out so it’s good motivation.”

Fanboy groaned, tilting against Payback as others around them gagged but Jake ignored them. “I wanna leave but I don’t, you know?” He hissed, trying to be quiet but too drunk.

Jake ignored him, and the eyerolls directed his way. “And?” He bent his elbow to prop his chin on his fist. “So, do I. You’re not special.”

“No?”

Jake grinned. “Nah. Try again.”

“Well, the fact that it’s not an instant no says a lot,” Rooster said, not moving, gaze locked with Jake’s, and it felt like the rest of the world fell away.

This was a moment that had always had the chance to be there. It never built. It simmered. Lingering under the surface for a long time and aside from one ill advised hook up had never gone anywhere. And Jake knew it never would because their career was the most important thing. They wouldn’t fuck that up. Not unless they were sure.

And it seemed like Rooster was finally taking that chance.

Jake hummed, watching Rooster for a long moment, the bar around him fading. “Buy me a drink.”

Rooster grinned, looking at the still full glass of beer. “You’ve got one.”

“Maybe I don’t like this one.”

“You’re a big boy. You can buy your own.”

Jake snorted. “Wow. Really selling it there.”

Rooster shrugged again, smirk firmly in place. Ever since the mission a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and Jake would be lying to himself if it didn’t want to draw him in. The second guessing was done, and all the ego Rooster pretended to have before had changed. He wasn’t pretending anymore, and Jake would be lying if it didn’t feel like catnip to him. He knew he had an ego, and more than one person he had been with had commented on how he could almost steamroll over everyone. But Rooster had never been one of those people. He had met Jake word for word. Comment for comment and had never backed down.

“I don’t need to sell it sweetheart. You’re just being an asshole because you can.”

Jake let out a bark of laughter at the, mostly, accurate statement. He was being an asshole just because he could. But he was also doing it because he had always loved it when Rooster fought back. “That so?”

Rooster raised his beer to his lips with a smile. “Yeah baby. It is.”

“Hmmm, well, doesn’t seem like you’re getting a kiss,” Jake said, leaning back and picking up his own drink to finish it off in a long swallow, not breaking the gaze.

Rooster tilted his head back, watching Jake as he stood. “Yeah I am.”

“Confident,” Jake said, knocking his knuckles against the table, breaking the spell. “And on that note, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

As if summons, one of the over worked waitresses appeared, handing Jake a drink with a jerk of her head toward Rooster before she disappeared again, the crowd beginning to surge as the minute warning started. Jake stared at the drink, and then back at Rooster who was grinning, proud of himself. He leaned back against the chair and crooked a finger toward Jake who was half staring at the drink wondering how the fuck Rooster had managed to do that. They weren’t at the Hard Deck, which would’ve made sense, but it was a random bar for the night, they all needed to get away from the Navy for one night.

Jake heard a round of groans as he shrugged, grabbed the drink and walked around the table and slid into Roosters lap, surprising the man if the raised eyebrows were any indication.

Shurgging, Jake wrapped an arm around Roosters neck and shifted forward, his legs spreading wide so he could get close and he felt a hand rest on his lower back, sliding under his shirt.

“Told you that you just needed to buy me a drink,” Jake said with a smirk, reaching back and setting the drink down.

Rooster snorted. “Was that it?”

Jake shook his head. “Nah, the competence.” He paused and leaned in closer as the countdown hit thirty. “There’s nothing better than a man who knows what he wants and goes for it.”

That made Rooster laugh, shaking his head. “Baby, trust me I’ve always known I’ve wanted you. I just had to fight some shit out.”

“And you have?”

The hand on his back slid lower into his back pocket as the countdown hit ten. “Yeah I have.”

Jake curled his hands around Rooster’s neck, thumbs stroking over his jaw as he pressed in closer, feeling fingers dig into his ass.

“Right answer,” he said just as the count hit zero and Jake kissed Bradley, feeling the other man surge up into the kiss as the crowd around them started to cheer as the New Year rolled in.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing a "Narcissistic" Character

Narcissist - an entitled and sometimes arrogant and manipulative person who primarily views other people as means to their own ends.

Some narcissists might come across as unpleasant, but others are charismatic and engaging until you cross them.

A covert narcissist like this might shift from acting like a charming adult to throwing a temper tantrum when they realize you won’t give in to their demands.

You might find you encounter more narcissists in fields centered around competition or winning.

For example, a well-meaning entrepreneur might come across a competitor or colleague with an extremely inflated sense of self—and this might present speed bumps for both parties.

Similarly, family law and divorce lawyers come across many people exhibiting narcissistic traits in their personal lives and must negotiate with that in mind.

As a caveat, although you might be able to accurately theorize as to whether or not someone possesses narcissistic tendencies, you should leave diagnosing someone with an actual narcissistic personality disorder to a professional.

Key Narcissistic Traits

You can spot narcissistic traits if you know what to look for specifically. Some qualities to keep in mind to identify narcissism:

Innate sense of entitlement: Everyone wants things to go their way if possible, but narcissists expect them to at all times and at all costs. The average person is willing to compromise and anticipates delayed rather than instant gratification in many scenarios. A narcissist, by contrast, expects everyone to be a willing contributor to their happiness all day, every day, no matter the extenuating circumstances. Psychologists call this endless drive for gratification at the expense of others “narcissistic supply.”

Inflated view of self: It’s one thing to be confident, it’s quite another to think you’re the most important person in the room at all times. Someone with narcissistic tendencies expects everyone to treat them like a king or queen. They often fall into delusions of grandeur and bouts of self-mythologizing to justify why people need to bow to their whims at all times.

Lack of empathy: Narcissistic abuse is common due to the lack of empathy such an attitude engenders. When someone considers their needs above anyone else’s, it makes them less likely to understand other people and more likely to hurt others to get what they want.

Prone toward manipulation: If you’re dealing with a narcissist, expect them to pull out manipulative tricks to get you to do what they want. This might mean gaslighting, belittling, or outright lying to you in the interest of throwing you off balance and getting you to succumb to their demands.

How to Negotiate With a Narcissist

Navigating the negotiation process with a narcissist might be difficult, but it’s definitely doable. Remember these tips as you advocate for yourself with someone who cares more about their own ego:

Iron out concrete details. Before entering a negotiation scenario with a narcissist, sit down and ask what you want out of the negotiations. Try journaling or filling out a worksheet to help you figure out your needs. You can also rely on third parties to help you do this more effectively. For example, if you’re trying to leave a narcissistic spouse, your divorce attorney can assist on this front.

Play to their narcissistic tendencies. To get what you want from a narcissist, sometimes you have to give them what they desire most: adoration. Of course, you can merely feign this sense of awe—stroking their ego with the knowledge you’re only doing so as a negotiation tactic. For example, suppose you’re in law school dealing with a narcissistic professor who has a track record of grading final exams unfairly unless a student praises their teaching. In this scenario, you could tell them you appreciated their lecture or you listened to their podcast as you leave class one day to get them on your side.

Practice emotional detachment. Negotiating with a narcissist can get ugly. Devaluing and abusing other people is one of the central tools in a narcissist’s arsenal. Especially if you’re in an emotional situation already—like a divorce case—it’s paramount to try to practice as much mindful detachment as you can. Remind yourself their words do not define you or reflect reality. For that matter, in this scenario, you can also rely in part on other parties to do your negotiating for you—that’s a major reason people pay attorney’s fees in the first place.

Stand your ground. Even if you grit your teeth and stroke a narcissist’s ego to get a concession at times, it’s important to stand your ground and maintain your sense of self. Always negotiate like you matter—because you do, regardless of any abuse they might hurl your way. Narcissists, at their root, are often very insecure—and your self-awareness and confidence can trump these insecurities in a negotiation scenario. Remind yourself you are strong and your own well-being is your first priority—this way, you can leave interactions like this knowing your pride and your feelings of self-worth are still intact.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[delirious-donna]

The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

~

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”