#it is . just not an atmosphere i want anything to do with

[sc0tters]

Lessons in Bed | Nico Hischier & Luke Hughes

summary: when luke tells you his ex left him for his skills in bed, it's only right that you and your boyfriend give him a lesson he'd never forget

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving!)

word count: 6.19k

authors note: this is the first time I have written a sub pairing, not entirely sure how i feel about it but it is definetly something that needs improvement so sorry about that... nevertheless this is a threesome that had no help on it and the last time we did that was like our first threesome. dom nico in this was something i could get used to 🤭

Parties at your place always seemed to go off a hit. 

Everyone loved the atmosphere of the apartment as they spoke or drank. The playlist you created was also always just what the environment needed to be perfect. Which is why you were so surprised to see him missing from the group. 

Luke Hughes had been someone you knew from the moment he had moved to New Jersey. Being Nico’s girlfriend meant that you knew all of the guys and oftentimes you were helping them settle in. Which was why you were so surprised when Luke was missing, this had always been more of his scene especially after college. 

Nico could see that your mind looked as if it was anywhere else “you okay schatz?” He called out over the music, letting his mouth hover close to your ear. 

You nodded as you sent him a smile “just looking for Luke.” You responded in the same tone as he took the chance to look “think he is in the kitchen?” Nico remembered seeing him in there when he got you a new drink. 

Nico’s hand went up to hold yours “you want me to come with?” His question made you smile “you don’t have to Neeks.” You shook your head before you planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Of course that meant he was coming with you, interlacing your hand with his before he made his way to the kitchen, always careful to not lose you in the crowd. Just like the captain had predicted, Luke stood in the kitchen staring at his drink. 

It made your lips form a pout “Lukey what are you doing in here?” His head shot up as he placed his phone in his pocket “just thinking.” The words were a blatant lie, clearly highlighted by the way his eyes avoided both you and Nico. 

You dropped Nico’s hand “y’know you can talk to either of us about anything.” Your voice was sweet while you made your way over to the youngest Hughes boy “it’s embarrassing.” Luke shook his head watching you both come further into the kitchen. 

Nico had to admit that he always thought Luke had some kind of crush on you, big or small, he knew it was there “you know we won’t judge you.” He added, crossing his arms “my girlfriend broke up with me.” His words made a soft laugh escape from your lips. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder “baby that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you shook your head letting your lips form a frown “she did it because I wasn’t good in.” Luke let his head dip back to where your bedrooms were. 

It took Nico much longer to figure out what the boy was saying than you “that’s completely normal!” You scoffed knowing that you had a good reason for not liking her “it is?” Luke had this sad look on his face that made you curse his now ex for hurting him like this. 

Nico watched you run your fingers through the Americans hair “yeah like when we first started dating Nico wasn’t the best.” Nico knew all about the ways he needed to improve in the bedroom as you were his first serious relationship, so the lessons from hook ups were going to do him no good “he wasn’t?” Luke couldn’t believe that about his captain, the man who was usually so calm and collected who wore your scratches and hickies like a badge of honour was once bad in bed? 

Nico nodded, pushing his hair out of his face “but my girl turned out to be a damn good teacher and now I know all her spots.” Nico smirked as he leaned against the kitchen counter “you thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked Nico wanting to get his permission to offer it to the younger boy first.

The two of you had agreed that a threesome was something neither one of you was totally against, and in fact it was pretty high on both of your wish lists “Hughesy you promise you can keep this a secret f’me?” Your voice was sickly sweet in his ear as he nodded “promise.” Nico had to smirk at the way the boy was so desperate for your immediate praise. 

It made you smile that he was so responsive “how would you like us to show you how it’s done?” Your offer made him squirm “want to know what it feels like to fuck a girl properly?” Luke couldn’t help it when a moan escaped from his lips. 

You looked down to see that a bulge had formed in his jeans “I’m sorry.” He went to apologise but you and Nico were having none of that “Lukey it is natural.” You shook your head not worrying about it. 

That seemed to calm him down “can you teach me?” He didn’t know who he was really asking as you both nodded “when the party is over why don’t you stay and we can start?” Nico couldn’t help but laugh seeing how the Hughes boy’s face dropped at your words. 

Having to wait for at least an hour seemed like torture to him “Luke trust me.” Nico placed his hand on the boys shoulder “with the way my girl moans you’re gonna want us three to be the only ones here.” The captain explained, not missing how your cheeks turned red hearing his words. 

Luke swore he his heart pounded in his ears as he waited for the party to finish “you know where Luke is?” Jack asked looking down at his phone seeing that the boy had not responded to any of his messages “I am pretty sure he left with some girl.” Nico lied wrapping his arm around your waist. 

He looked to you to back him up “yeah Jack, I am so sorry he told me to tell you but I forgot.” The way you made it so convincing should have made Nico feel bad but it did anything but that “no worries.” Jack sighed pushing his phone back into his pocket. 

The Center sent you both a smile “have a good night.” You and Nico waved him off, feeling like you couldn’t get rid of him quickly enough “you sure you want to do this neeks?” You asked letting the door shut behind you. 

Your question made your boyfriend freeze “I do but only if it is something you’re comfortable with.” He looked to you for reassurance, not wanting to push you into something you didn’t want “I do Nico.” You nodded, pushing onto your tippy toes to kiss him. 

It made Nico smile “and besides watching you teach someone all I’ve taught you is gonna be like really hot.” Your words made him laugh “is that what you’re thinking about tonight?” He asked as your cheeks turned a shade of pink, meaning he was right. 

The captain pulled you into another kiss, wanting a moment just between the two of you before Luke got involved again “behave mister.” You warned feeling Nico’s hand squeeze your ass. 

It made him laugh as he raised his hands in surrender “apologises madam.” Nico teased watching you look for Luke “Luke baby!” You called out watching him walk out of the bathroom. 

His hands were in his hoodie pocket “hi.” His voice was quiet “you ready for this?” You asked him walking up to the boy. 

He didn’t want to admit it but god did you smell amazing “because if you want to leave at any time just say the words and we will end it.” You wanted Luke to know that even if you and Nico were teaching him, he had just as much power as the two of you did. 

Luke nodded “don’t want to go.” His words made you smile “now you said she didn’t like how you were in the bedroom?” You wanted to know where he needed your help, and if it was everywhere then you and Nico were happy to do that. 

The boy looked nervous “this is a safe space.” Nico reiterated the fact that you guys could all trust each other and that the events of the night would not be shared “she didn’t like anything.” Those words made your heart break for him. 

And it was clear that he could see that “can we like not talk about it.” He scratched the back of his neck not wanting sympathy from you as he was just going to feel embarrassed “kiss me.” Luke felt his eyes go wide at your words “c’mon Luke we have to start somewhere.” He nodded dropping his head down as he hit your nose with his. 

It caused a hiss to leave your lips as your eyes screwed shut, if you weren’t meant to be helping him Nico would have laughed “Luke bud you’re going about it all wrong.” Nico clicked his tongue hooking his finger into your jeans belt loop to pull you back to him “first you got to have some direction.” The captain spoke in a duh tone, placing his hands on your cheeks. 

His eyes were always such a warm place to you “and then you can look where you’re going before you get there.” He dropped his head to the point where his lips hovered over yours “some girls love it when you look between their eyes and their lips for a second.” Nico smirked seeing your smile as he was talking about you. 

You nodded “and then you can show her you’re in charge but don’t take her teeth out.” Your words were quiet as Nico kissed you. His tongue dragged across your lower lip, pulling you into a trance that made you whimper when he pulled away. 

It stroked his ego as he turned back to Luke “and don’t forget that you can move your hands around her body as you’re making out.” With that suggestion Nico stepped away, motioning to Luke to step into his place “just relax okay.” You were too good to Nico, Luke swore to himself. 

His hands rested right where Nico’s were before “hi.” He whispered looking at how beautiful you looked this close up. Luke’s lips were rougher than Nico’s as his tongue found its way into your mouth. 

It was a clear improvement as the boy also breathed from his nostrils while he let one hand travel to your ass and the other to your tits. He gave them a squeeze that made you moan, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

Nico almost had to admit that he felt a little jealous seeing you all like that with someone else, he knew your body was responsive so he should have known it would end like this. As you pulled away from Luke his teeth softly tugged at your lower lip “think Lukey boy is a fast learner.” Nico teased the boy, seeing how your eyes were wide staring at the boy. 

Luke saw your frazzled state “should we move you to the bedroom?” Nico asked placing his hand in the back of your neck before he kissed you again. The American had to admit that watching how your boyfriend knew how to elicit the right reaction out of you, was hot. 

You smiled seeing Luke again “yeah.” You nodded taking his hand in yours while Nico lead the way. The room was one Luke had never seen before, always feeling like your bedroom was far too private for him to impose on “you like the place?” You asked running your finger along his jawline. 

Luke nodded “y-yeah.” His breath caught in his throat seeing the mischievous look on your face “so how do you finger a girl?” Nico’s question made you laugh. 

He rolled his eyes “I’m serious schatz we don’t even know if he knows where your clit or where your erogenous zones are.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed proving that Nico had some ground to be right “like with her here her most sensitive zones are behind her ears.” Nico pressed a kiss against the back of your ear before he softly sucked on your earlobe making you moan. 

The captain smirked before he pulled away, making sure that Luke was still watching “her scalp.” His fingers ran through your hair making you squirm in the process “god wait until you get to play with these.” Nico couldn’t help but grunt when he gave your boobs a squeeze. 

Luke watched on in awe “and when I’m eating her out I’ll kiss the back of her knees and all down her thighs making sure she’s ready.” Luke nodded watching you look at Nico “Neeks think we should show him now.” Your words came with you pulling your top off. 

Your red bra complimented your skin “even though you are focusing on my cunt doesn’t mean that you can’t acknowledge my top half too.” You explained as you begin to kiss Luke again, but this time your lips didn’t stay on his for long, wanting to find his own sensitive zones. 

Nico unbuttoned your jeans as you sucked at Luke’s neck, drawing a moan from his lips “think we found it.” You licked your lips, stepping out of your jeans to reveal a matching set of underwear to the bra “fuck.” Luke whimpered letting his eyes screw shut. 

It made you let out a whine “Lukey baby I want you to feel me okay?” You asked taking his hand when he nodded “you feeling how wet I am through these?” You placed his hand against the wet patch on your panties. 

His knees almost buckled at the feeling when his eyes shot open “schatz stop teasing him and let him have a taste.” Nico’s words made you pout. But still you listened to your boyfriend and lay on the bed for both boys to see “why don’t you take her bra off?” Nico motioned to Luke to join you on the bed. 

It made the boy look to you like he was asking for your permission “I don’t bite.” You giggled seeing Nico raise his eyebrows, oh you definitely do. Luke brought his hand up behind you and unsnapped the bra with ease catching both you and Nico by surprise “did I do something wrong?” Luke grew nervous as he looked between the two of you. 

You shook your head, letting the bra fall to the bed “not many guys can do that with such ease.” You confessed going to kiss him again “schatz if you keep on kissing him he isn’t going to learn anything.” Nico teased you as he sat on the bench of your vanity watching the scenario unfold in front of him. 

Luke kissed at your shoulder “thought I was just being used to teach him.” You shot back sending him an amused grin as your fingers tugged at Luke’s curls “don’t start something you aren’t ready to keep up.” Nico warned getting up as he wasn’t going to let you be a brat. 

You smirked watching him look at Luke “c’mere Hughes she wants her pussy fucked.” The words made you press your legs together as Nico forced them open again “get her panties off.” Nico ordered making Luke nod. 

He followed the orders, slotting in between your legs “can you lift?” Luke asked making you push your thighs into the air so that he could take your panties off “shit.” The boy let out a low whistle finally pulling them off of your feet. 

Nico smirked at the sight that he loved so much “you want to show us what you normally do?” The captain sat on your side of the bed. Luke got himself comfortable between your legs while he went to spit on his fingers “why don’t you get her to do that?”Nico motioned to you as it always made you horny. 

Luke looked to you as you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his fingers “fuck.” The Hughes boy let out a grunt feeling your tongue swirl around his digits “now start out easy with two.” Luke watched how your eyes screwed shut feeling his fingers thrust into your cunt. 

Your cunt stretched against his fingers “you want to get her ready so do this.” Nico did this scissoring motion with his fingers when he sat behind you. Your back rested against his chest “shit.” You moaned showing Luke that he was doing the right thing. 

You let your hips meet his thrusts “play with her clit.” Nico brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed at your neck. 

His eyes watched the Hughes boy totally miss your clit “you see this?” Nico asked taking his thumb as he rubbed against your sensitive bud, your head pressed against his shoulder as your boyfriend hit the right spot “if you’re just fingering her you want to do it like this.” Nico kissed your ear heading your breathing grow heavy. 

Your skin grew warm seeing two boys play with your cunt “but if you’re fucking her.” You watched Nico move his focus to the pads of his fingers on your clit which more pace “wanna try?” Your chest heaved using all of your energy to look at Luke. 

He nodded using his thumb like the older boy had “ain’t he a good listener?” Nico cooed watching how your hands tried to reach for your breasts, desperate to play with your sensitive peaks “Lukey think it’s time you use something different to make her feel good.” Nico’s suggestion came as he held your hands, stopping you from playing with your breasts. 

Luke watched the captain as he knew the suggestion came with some logic as you started to appear as if you were close. So Luke listened he retracted his fingers from your cunt watching in awe as he saw how your cunt glistened. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact “schatz don’t be a brat or else you won’t cum tonight.” The younger boy was surprised that someone could have the power over someone else, to have the ability to withhold a human reaction. 

Nico pulled away from behind you, setting you back flat on the bed “I love you.” He pressed his lips against your shoulder before he turned his attention to Luke “you gotta go gentle first.” His voice soothed you. 

You ran your fingers up your skin “please Lukey.” You begged, wishing that the boy would hurry up “baby be patience for him.” Nico clicked his tongue reminding you that tonight was meant to be for you to teach Luke, tomorrow Nico could have you screaming until your throat felt raw if you wanted it. 

Luke took this deep breath as if it was going to sooth his nerves. His head hovered over your cunt “uh uh Luke.” Nico shook his head, stopping the boy in the process “having sex isn’t just about fucking her pussy remember?” The captain ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs making you squirm. 

The Hughes boy nodded remembering about what you told him in the living room “there we go.” Nico smiled watching Luke kiss at the inside of your thighs. 

For someone who didn’t know what he was doing, he was methodical. Luke seemed to kiss you in the way that he divided his attention equally between your thighs, always hovering just close enough to your cunt that you swore he was finally going to start, but he never did. His eyes studied yours as he finally stopped “please Luke.” You begged feeling him place an open mouthed kiss on your cunt. 

It made you grip at the sheet beneath you “occasionally focus on fucking her with your tongue too.” The suggestion was ignored by the boy as he brought his fingers that he had used to now focus on your weeping hole “fuck baby.” You moaned looking at Nico who couldn’t help but smile. 

Luke found himself settling into a perfect rhythm, occasionally looking back up at you “please Lukey.” You begged wanting more as he inserted another finger into your cunt “this greedy slut likes it when you do this.” Nico showed the boy how to turn his fingers into this come hither motion to get deeper into your cunt. 

The Hughes boy sent him what was only a glance before he listened, turning his attention to you in order to ensure it was working. His fingers grazed your g-spot, causing your body to jolt “there we go Lukey boy.” Nico praised the boy making Luke moan. 

Luke almost slotted into the motions, bringing his free hand up to cup your breast. His fingers rolled your nipple between them, tugging at the peak “don’t stop.” You shook your head feeling your thighs begin to shake “she’s gonna finish and you want that right?” Nico pushed Luke with the encouragement that it worked like a wildfire. 

His lips sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud “fuck yeah.” Luke spoke against your cunt sending shivers through your body “c’mon schatz let him see what it’s like to have a pretty girl cum on your tongue.” Nico cooed drawing circles on your shoulder with his thumb. 

Luke didn’t relent, letting your moans bounce off of the walls making him feel like a moth to a flame “shit Lukey please don’t stop.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as your body shook “right there a-a-ahhh.” Your eyes screwed shut when your cunt clenched around his fingers while your body spasmed. 

White specks cast over the black that your eyelids brought upon you “oh god oh god!” You chanted as Luke helped you ride through your orgasm. But then it turned into him just being hungry, as he continued to lap at your release “no Lukey.” You tugged at his hair, wanting to pull him off of you. 

He let you kiss him, tasting your sweet release on his tongue made you feel lightheaded bringing him back onto you as you lay on the bed felling his boner that his shorts did little to hide, graze against your cunt “shit.” You gasped feeling your eyes widen. 

Luke laughed against your shoulder, echoing your same emotions “doll why don’t you thank him for treating ya?” Nico’s words made you nod. You rolled out from under the boy as you patted the bed for him “sit.” You ordered him. 

The boy obliged seeing the hunger in your eyes “you gonna let me taste ya?” You asked running your hand over the material of his shorts “please.” Luke whimpered, feeling his cock push to your hand. 

Nico remembered what it was like to be in that position because you had this power to turn him into putty, and that’s what caused him to raise a smack to your ass “ah!” You whimpered almost jumping out of your skin at the sensation “don’t be mean and tease him schatz.” The captain clicked his tongue sending you an unimpressed look. 

It made you frown turning to him with a pout “fine.” You huffed reaching for the waistband of Luke’s shorts “gonna lift up for me pretty boy?” You asked causing him to push his hips up into the air, allowing you to tug at his shorts bringing them down with his boxers. 

His cock ached for some attention, for you “god.” He moaned watching you run your thumb over the swollen head. The precum oozed out of it working as some kind of shitty variation of lube. You let your eyes lock onto his as you pooled your saliva in your mouth before you let it drop into his cock. 

Luke swore he was dreaming as he watched you do these little kitten licks against his cock. Nico stood behind you dropping his pants as he pumped his cock once and then a second time “you gonna let him fuck your mouth while I fuck your cunt maus?” You moaned at the thought when you nodded. 

Nico dragged the head of his cock along your slit wanting to not let his teammate get all of the fun that you could give “shit schatz.” Nico moaned feeling your cunt hug his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him. 

As a moan went to escape from your lips you let your lips wrap around Luke’s cock. The warmth your mouth provided made Luke almost fall forward “yeah dude she sucks dick like a slut.” Nico laughed watching your hand massage Luke’s balls. 

Your cunt squelched as your previous orgasm was more than enough in terms of lube for Nico’s cock to throb with some thrusts “but that is what you love, huh?” Nico taunted you, as the feeling of your cunt clenching around him was not something that he failed to miss. Your words of agreement were muffled, but when your head bobbed with Lukes’s cock hitting your throat, it was clear what you were thinking “cap if she was mine I wouldn’t share.” Luke almost didn’t realise the line he walked on, he was dangerously close to pissing Nico off if he continued saying shit like this then Nico was more than likely going to take it out on your cunt. 

And you could already feel him doing it; his fingers pinched at your thighs “part of having a girl.” Nico grumbled, watching Luke grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail “is knowing when to listen.” Nico would never have dreamed of offering this to Luke, but you did, and Nico couldn’t say no to you.

You moaned wanting to let out a giggle if it had been a more appropriate time “glad you did.” Luke confessed, watching you look up at him through your now ruined mascara “good teachers.” He felt your throat gag around his cock making him grunt. The moment of silence made Nico smirk, finally having the boy shut up was the real stroke to his ego.

Luke squirmed beneath your touch, feeling your cheeks hollow out with your tongue swirling around the underside of his cock.

Nico thrust into you with such pace that the sound of your skin slapping against his echoed throughout the apartment, you were sure of it “fuck Neeks.” You let your lips pop from Lukes cock, quickly replacing your mouth with your hand “you wanna cum sweet girl?” He didn’t even need to wait for you to answer before he moved his hand to rub against your clit “please.” You begged feeling your legs begin to shake as Nico had to also keep you from collapsing.

You continued to focus on fucking the younger boys cock in your hand “thrust your hips baby.” You cooed sending Luke a nod “I-i can’t.” Luke shook his head, not sure if he had the energy to complete the task. 

Nico hissed feeling you clench around his cock, almost making him forget how to breathe “when you get told to do something Luke, you do it no?” Nico used his captains tone that made you rest your head on Luke’s thigh “schatz look at him when he finally behaves.” He made you pull your head off of Luke’s thigh as his fingers tugged at your hair.

Luke watched your eyes open as he saw how Nico held you up with his hands in your hand. He felt overcome by pleasure, just needed that little bit more as he begun to push his hips into your hand. 

Nico nodded with a grunt as his tongue ran across his teeth “ain’t he a good boy schatz.” You let out this harsh whimper “such a good boy.” Your coos sent Luke over the edge causing sticky ropes of his release to shoot into your hand. 

Tears formed in his waterline “please.” Luke shook his head, not sure that he could take much more, thinking that he was already feeling hard again “you want her to cum?” Nico quizzed the boy who nodded. 

Luke could see the desperation on your face “tell her that.” The captain ordered his teammate “fuck doll.” Luke coughed feeling your hand finally slow on his cock. 

The Hughes boy had to think about his words “wanna see you make a mess okay?” Your tits throbbed as your cunt clenched hearing those words “you think that you can do that f’me?” Luke used his fingers to roll your nipples between them, causing your moans to sound like music in your ears.

Nico didn’t know how much longer he could take “c’mon liebling, show him how pretty you look when you cum on a cock.” Those words sent you over the edge 

Your eyes screwed shut as your head dropped when Nico let your hair go “fucking hell.” As you came around his cock it caused his own orgasm to come on “just like that.” Nico bit down on his lower lip as his head fell back, slowing his thrusts down before he pulled his cock out. 

The captain rubbed his thumb in these soft circles against the hip, watching how his release oozed out of your cunt. Trickling down your slit to your clit “you got one more in ya?” It was the first coherent sentences that you could form in a while “me?” Luke asked blinking heavily. 

Nico let out a snort as he turned your head so he could kiss you “I sure as shit know she wasn’t talking to me.” Nico pointed out, knowing that he could last for at least three rounds “schatz show him how good this cunt feels.” The captain stared at Luke as he cupped your pussy. 

Luke felt his mouth water at the sight of you letting out another moan “I don’t think I can fuck you.” The boy shook his head feeling like his legs were jelly “who said I couldn’t ride ya?” You tapped his legs motioning to him to set his legs straight. 

His eyes shut as the image became too strong in his mind “you can say no Lukey.” You reminded him of his rights as you sat on your heels in front of him “no I want to.” He was quick to shake his head, sending you a smile. 

You nodded, watching him pull you onto his lap. His legs pushed you up “you sure?” Nico had to smile from the corner of your bed where he sat, hearing how you were still making sure that he was comfortable “yeah I am.” Luke took the chance to kiss you. 

His tongue past your lips making you mewl at the contact. Your hand found its way between the two of you “off.” You tugged at his hoodie now wanting him naked too. 

Luke listened, letting your hands do the work as you brought it up to his chest before you pulled away, “just taking it off.” You smirked hearing him whimper at the loss of contact. 

His cheeks turned red, feeling grateful that his hoodie being pulled off of his head did a lot to hide the initial warmth that spread to his cheeks “such a pretty boy.” You cooed letting a grin form on your lips as you drank in the sight of his now messy curls. 

Your hand went back down between the two of you so you could grab his cock, your hands were delicate, softly palming him “please.” Luke rested his head against your headboard, feeling you lazily drive the head of his cock across your slit. Nico began to palm at himself, enjoying the view from behind “fuck him schatzi.” Nico clicked his tongue, growing irritated at the teasing.

You sank onto his cock letting your nails tense around his shoulders, he wasn’t as thick as Nico but Luke’s cock made your cunt hug his walls differently “move please.” Luke softened his grip around your hips “such a polite boy.” You nodded, slowly moving your hips seeing his eyes look back at you. 

He studied your face, noticing every little beauty spot and imperfection that made you, well, you. It made him smile when he realised that your eyes had been locked on his “you feel yourself?” You asked bringing his hand onto your lower stomach and making him press his into your skin. 

Luke was more impressed that he could get that deep than anything else “shit you’re perfect.” The compliment made Nico nod, agreeing that the boy was indeed not stupid “I am gonna fuck you now okay?” You asked the boy, bringing your legs to either side of him so that you could properly work yourself on his cock, knowing that you were not going to last for long. 

And judging by how he watched you like a cat who found a warm spot on a winter day, Luke was excited for you to continue. Your one hand rested on his thigh behind you as the other gripped at his shoulder while you brought your cunt up and down his cock. Careful to never fully pull off of him before you slammed back down feeling his crotch graze against your clit. 

The movement was steady making Nico feel a little jealous that it wasn’t him beneath you “fuck you feel so good.” You moaned not sure of how much longer you could last. 

His cock throbbed against your cunts gummy walls, hearing the sound of your skin hitting his causing his forehead to turn slick with sweat. His eyes watched your breasts bounce with every thrust you had on his cock. 

Luke was desperate to feel more of you “kissy?” He whined making you smile. You brought your hand up the side of his neck to his curls “so sweet when you talk so nice.” You praised him as you tugged at his hair. 

The feeling made the boy moan, pursing his lips to kiss you “such a good boy.” You cooed as you finally gave him what he wanted. 

Your lips were soft against his, making him grunt while he sucked at your lower lip “shit schatzi keep on doing you.” Nico felt his eyes screw shut as his cock oozed his sticky release in his hand “you see how much Neeks likes this?” You pulled away from the boy allowing him to see your swollen lips. 

Luke nodded feeling close to tears as his brain was on fire “like it too.” Luke looked down to see how your pussy looked fucking his cock. 

Your release that had mixed with Nico’s creamed around his cock “play with those tits.” Nico ordered making you nod as it was what you were desperate to feel.

His tongue swirled around you nipple while he fondled the other tit “fuck baby you wanna cum inside?” You were on the pill and at that moment not thinking about STDs “god yes.” Luke moaned against your boob causing the vibrations against your skin to go straight to your core. 

Your fingers strummed against your clit like you were playing the guitar, not sure if you were still helping him or if you were now using him for your orgasm “fuck doll right there.” Luke let out a grunt feeling your thrusts grow irregular making your body thrash around on him. 

His warm release painted the walls of your cunt, bringing your own orgasm on. You chanted his name from your lips, making it sound angelic as your cunt clenched around him, gushing on his cock. Your head fell forward when he let your boob go, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder. A whimper escaped your lips when you accidentally moved, feeling him still inside of you “you okay?” Lukes voice was soft, watching you use what energy you had to pick yourself off of his cock before you collapsed next to him. 

This was always Nico’s favourite part of the night, seeing you almost too fucked to speak, “I’ll get your bath ready.” Nico chuckled as he got up, squeezing your ankle “her bath?” Luke looked between you both as he was back to being confused. 

Nico rolled his eyes, starting to realise why the boy was having girl issues “now it’s time for your next lesson.” Nico motioned to Luke to follow him as Nico picked you up to bring you to go pee “aftercare and the importance of it.” Nico’s voice soothed you, it made your eyelids feel heavy when you rested your head against your boyfriend’s chest while Luke shut the door behind the three of you. 

Clearly, their night wasn’t over, but it wasn’t where the story ended either.

Luke felt his head hit the wall behind him “s-s-shit!” He moaned feeling his eyes screwed shut as he squeezed his hand around his cock continuing to thrust into his palm at a strong pace edging his orgasm. 

Jack walked into the apartment, still surprised that Luke didn’t come with him to the morning skate as he wasn’t the usual Hughes brother to skip it “fuck oh don’t stop y/n!” The moan came from Luke’s lips as he reached his high making Jack freeze where he stood by the door.

Did his younger brother have a crush on his captain’s soon-to-be fiancée?

[kashverse]

based off of this request ☆ kunafamily masterlist

ah, marriage. truly a blessing, a union of souls, a sacred bond forged through love and commitment.

or whatever.

because there is nothing beautiful about it when your twelve-year-old daughter stomps into the house, still in her dusty-ass middle school uniform, drops her backpack by the door with the weight of a woman who has seen the horrors of war, and announces—

“mama. papa. i am getting married.”

...

there is a silence. a deafening, suffocating, air-sucked-out-of-the-room silence. the only sound is the low hum of the AC and the softest shuffle of mr. pickles, your ancient maine coon, who, for the first time in what seems like eons, flops in front of babykuna’s feet. a humble offering. a plea for mercy. baby the tabby? he lets out a single, horrified, “YEEEOOOWWWWWL—” like he has just witnessed a first-degree felony right before his very eyes.

you? you’re laughing. not because it’s funny, but because your brain is short-circuiting. “babe,” you choke, eyes darting to sukuna, who has gone uncharacteristically still. you swear you can hear the windows error sound effect echoing inside his head. but he blinks, snaps out of it, and suddenly—

“THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN MARRIED?”

you jolt, clutching your chest. “sukuna, for the love of god, inside voice.” but he is hyperventilating. actually hyperventilating.

he stumbles forward like a man on his last legs, dropping to his knees so that he is face-to-face with babykuna. “baby,” he starts, voice tight, shaking, the desperation of a father who has just been emotionally gutted. “marriage is a big deal. are you sure about this?” 

babykuna, bless her obnoxiously stubborn heart, crosses her arms.

“yes.”

sukuna visibly deflates. “but—but why?” he croaks, rubbing his face as if this is causing him physical pain. “what happened to all the other snot-nosed brats?”

babykuna huffs. “they were gross, papa.”

“EXACTLY.” he seethes. “they’re all gross! including this one!”

“nuh-uh. he’s different.”

sukuna looks like he’s about to throw up. he grips her little shoulders, voice dropping to a low, grave whisper.

“listen, babygirl. i will give you anything. anything you want. you want another cat? i’ll get you another cat. you want half of my company shares? done. a custom labubu line with your name on it? consider it already in production.”

babykuna’s brows knit, lips pursed in deep thought. there’s hope. hope that maybe, the dreaded king of the corporate world will win this negotiation. but then—

“no.”

babykuna stomps off to her room.

and as she marches away, victorious, baby the tabby lets out a final, gut-wrenching shriek, a soulful cry that echoes down the halls like the mourning of a thousand fallen soldiers. mr. pickles lets out a deep, ancient sigh, the kind only a being who has lived through generations of turmoil can muster.

and sukuna? he just slumps to the floor, lifeless, broken, defeated.

“i’ve lost her,” he whispers, staring blankly ahead. “i’ve fucking lost her.”

you pat his head. “there, there. at least she didn’t pick a finance bro.”

the next day, there is a shift in the air. you sense it first, the way the walls seem to breathe easier, the way the atmosphere in the sukuna household isn’t shrouded in impending doom. and then you see it.

babykuna walks in, her steps just a bit heavier, like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. mr. pickles, who has been mourning nonstop since yesterday, immediately flops next to her feet, a slow, dramatic descent that speaks volumes.

please, his weary, ancient eyes seem to say. do not get rid of me when you are married.

baby the tabby, however, is far less sentimental. he doesn’t even look at her. doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. babykuna notices.

“baby,” she calls. baby the tabby flicks his tail and turns away. the ultimate betrayal. she frowns, drops her backpack on the floor, and then—

“i’m not getting married anymore.”

silence.

mr. pickles exhales a long, tired sigh, as if the very gods have heard his prayers. baby the tabby, however? ecstatic.

he springs onto babykuna like he’s just won the lottery, tackling her to the sofa and kneading her chest with such fiery, unbridled passion you fear he might actually give himself a heart attack. but the real show? sukuna.

because the moment those words leave babykuna’s mouth, he goes dead still. and then, slowly, so slowly, he turns to you with the wide, gleeful, demented grin of a man who has just cheated death. “babe,” he breathes. “call a baker.”

“...a baker?”

he nods, eyes gleaming.

“i’m getting a cake.”

you blink. “for...?”

“us.”

he grips your shoulders, voice thick with emotion.

“a congratulations cake. for us. we fucking did it.”

[insidekatmind]

Assistent- Berlin(Song Jung-ho)

Wearning: +18,smut

The room is suffocating, the silence between the hostages heavy as lead. You find yourself in a corner, trying not to attract too much attention, but you feel it. You know he’s watching you. Berlin. You feel his gaze like a weight on your neck, as if you can sense it even without turning around. You’ve just grabbed the coffee, bringing it to him as if it’s just another task, but inside, something torments you. A knot in your stomach, a mix of nervousness and desire that you can’t explain.

As you take your first step towards his door, your legs tremble, but it’s only for a moment. Then you take a breath and step through the threshold. He’s there, sitting at his place behind the table, his eyes focused on the surveillance monitors. You stop a few steps away from him, the coffee in hand. You feel that every movement you make, every breath you take, is weighed, as if every action is measured in that moment.

"Bring me the coffee?" His voice penetrates you, calm and authoritative, without a trace of emotion. Yet there’s a kind of hidden malice behind those words that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not an order. It’s something more. It’s a game. And you’re the pawn, aware of it, but unable to take a step back.

You move closer to him, your heart beating faster as you feel drawn to him like a magnet. You stop in front of his desk, your hands trembling as you offer him the cup. He raises his gaze, his black, piercing eyes locking onto yours immediately. There’s something in his stare that makes you feel as if you’re naked before him, as though he’s reading every thought in your mind, every beat of your heart.

"Thank you," he says, but it’s not just a simple thank you. It’s the way he says it. It’s as if he’s giving you something more, something that goes beyond courtesy. His hand reaches out to take the cup, but he doesn’t let you go. His eyes never leave yours, and his gaze is so intense that it feels like you can’t breathe.

"Come closer," he orders, and the word is a command, one that forces you to respond, even if you don’t want to. Your body seems to move on its own, as if it’s already been trained to follow him. You approach slowly, your heartbeat quickening, your hands cold, your breath irregular. When you finally get close to him, he gestures for you to sit, but not in the chair. No. He motions for you to sit on his lap.

A wave of embarrassment overwhelms you, but you can’t do anything but obey. You sit down, your legs trembling slightly as you adjust to his position. The atmosphere between you two is thick, as if the air around you is too dense, too hot. He looks at you as if he were a predator, and you his prey. His hands graze you slowly, but it’s as if every touch is amplified, charged with unbearable tension.

"You don’t seem very relaxed," he murmurs, his voice a warm whisper that makes you shiver. His hands move across your back, tracing thin lines, as if he wants to explore you, as if he’s marking your body as his own.

The silence is broken only by your labored breaths and the beat of your heart filling your ears. "Stop for a moment," he says calmly, but that calm is far from reassuring. It’s a calm that hints at something dangerous. He holds you still, forcing you to stay there, overwhelmed by his presence.

The air around you seems to grow denser, charged with something you can’t grasp. Every little movement feels amplified, every touch of his makes you tremble. You can do nothing but obey, and yet inside, another part of you doesn’t want to stop feeling it.

You rest your hands on the table, focusing on the cameras trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're sitting on his lap. He leans closer to you, pressing his chin onto your shoulder, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. “Not interested in the monitors anymore, huh? Do I make you that nervous?” He asks, his voice a low, velvety murmur.

His hands move, sliding down your back, as if to soothe you, but it's not calming. It's a slow, sensual caress that makes your heart speed up, its beat echoing in your ears. He continues, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smirk in it. “You’re trembling,” he says, his hand now tracing patterns along the side of your torso. “Don’t be so tense, honey. I don’t bite.”

His fingers reach the curve of your waist, his touch burning into your skin even through the fabric of your clothes. His other hand goes higher, up to your neck, gently tilting your head towards him. His eyes are now focused on you, studying you. There’s a deep, dark intensity in his gaze that makes you shiver. His hand is still on your neck, thumb gently caressing your skin. “Look at me,” he orders, his tone a calm but firm command.

Your eyes slowly move to meet his, unable to refuse to obey. He’s so close that you can see the flecks of gold hidden in the darkness of his irises. His gaze locks onto yours, taking in every detail, studying your every reaction. “There you are,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “I like it better when you’re looking at me.” He leans in closer, his lips hovering just an inch away from your ear, his words a low, almost inaudible whisper. “You’re an interesting one, aren’t you? You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking glances? The way you watch me when no one else is looking.”

You swallow hard as you look at him. He watches you closely, noticing the way you swallow. His hand on your waist tightens its grip, pulling you slightly closer to him. “I see you, you know. Even when you think you’re being inconspicuous, I notice.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, a hint of satisfaction. “You think I don’t feel your gaze whenever I walk into a room?”

You can feel Berlin's hand caressing your ass. The touch sends an electric shiver down your spine, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from making any noise. His hand glides down, giving you a firm squeeze, a gesture both possessive and pleasurable.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He can feel your tension, the way your body responds to his touch. “You’re not very good at hiding these reactions, sweetheart.” He continues to caress your butt and every now and then he gave you little slaps while looking at you with a smirk.

With every soft slap, you have to clamp down further on your lip to prevent yourself from letting out a sound. The mixture of pain and pleasure is almost overwhelming, and his gaze, heavy and intense upon you, adds another dimension to the experience. The smirk on his face is maddening, taunting you with his power, but at the same time drawing you closer, making you want more.

His hand then moves up, under your shirt, tracing warm lines on your bare skin. The touch is more possessive now, his fingers leaving behind a trail of heat wherever they go. “Undress” he orders you, slapping your ass before licking his lips and looking at you.

The command is firm, leaving no doubt that it's an order, not a request. A mix of arousal and trepidation fills you, but you know you have no choice but to obey. You stand up, away from him, and start removing your clothes, feeling his eyes on you, watching your every move.

As you begin to undress in front of him, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, charged with anticipation. His smile only grows wider, his gaze becoming more and more intense with each piece of clothing you take off. He gives you a sign with his finger to make you understand that you have to do a spin around yourself to make him understand your entire naked body. You hesitate for a moment, feeling incredibly exposed, but his gaze is so intense it feels like you can't refuse. You spin around, slowly, feeling his eyes on every part of your body, burning into you and searing into your mind. You can feel his gaze like a physical touch, and you shiver, unable to control the way your body responds to him.

He leans back in his chair, taking in the view, his hand rubbing his chin as he looks at you. You feel vulnerable, but there's also something strangely liberating about it, as if you're allowing him to see a part of you that no one else has ever seen.

Berlin waves you over and slaps his right thigh to let you know he wants you to sit on him. "sit on my right thigh" he orders you. You approach him, your legs feeling shaky and your body on edge. Slowly, you sit down on his right thigh. His leg is firm beneath you, and the feeling of being this close to him is overwhelming. You can feel his body heat radiating against yours, can smell his cologne, a subtle but intoxicating scent that seems to invade your senses.

He smirks and squeezes your ass before letting out a satisfied hum. “Ride my thigh like a good girl,” he orders, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The words ignite something inside you, a mix of embarrassment and desire. You shift, moving on his thigh as he instructed, feeling the friction of your body against his. He leans back in his chair, his hands on the armrests on either side of you, and watches you with an amused, self-satisfied expression.

"That's it," he purrs, his words a low rumble in his throat. "You're a fast learner, aren't you?" His hands grip the armrests even tighter, a clear sign of his control, of his dominance over you. As you continue to move, his hand slowly slides towards your back, tracing lines on your skin. His touch is both gentle and possessive, sending waves of heat through your body. His leg moves beneath you, providing just enough pressure in all the right places, and you can't help but respond, your movements becoming more involuntary, more desperate.

He leans closer, his lips almost touching your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Keep going," he urges, his voice low and velvety. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."

You moan looking at him as you place your hands on his body to support yourself as you continue to ride his thigh. The feel of your pussy on his thigh as it repeatedly touches your g-spot makes you moan loudly. “Berlin,” you moan.

The sound of your moan hits Berlin like a wave, fueling his desire even more. He leans closer, his hand moving up to the nape of your neck, holding you steady so he can look at you. His gaze is intense, his eyes locked onto yours, and you can practically feel the heat coming off him.

"Say it again," he commands, his voice a low growl. He wants to hear you say his name again, he wants to hear how he makes you feel. You repeat his name, the syllables a strangled sound that escapes you with each movement. "Berlin," you moan again, and it's a sound he can't get enough of. His hand tightens on your neck, his touch possessive and demanding. "Louder," he demands, his voice now more hoarse, more strained. He's losing control, but he still needs to hear you say his name.

You moan feeling his hand on your neck and ride his thigh faster. “Berlin” you moan looking at him longingly. His name on your lips, combined with the feel of you riding his thigh, drives him insane. He's losing his carefully crafted control, and you can see the effect it has on him. His grip on your neck tightens, grounding him but also expressing his dominance. He looks at you, his gaze clouded with hunger and need. "You're mine," he growls, his voice possessive and authoritative. "Say it."

You moan feeling close "fuck, I'm all yours" you moan desperately and Berlin slaps you on the ass, growling satisfied and moving his leg under you quickly. The stinging pain from his slap mixes with the pleasure building between your legs, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You moan louder, the sound filling the room, and Berlin responds eagerly, his leg moving even faster, adding more pressure for you core. His hand moves again, running down your back, resting on your waist. He squeezes lightly, guiding your movements. "You're so close," he says, his voice gruff. "I can feel it. Come for me, honey."

The words are commanding, but they're also something more. They're a plea, a demand, and an acknowledgment of the power you have over him. He needs to see you fall apart, he wants it, and he's going to get it.

You moan and hide your head in his chest as you breathe heavily, you wet his entire thigh with your cum and Berlin smiled as he caressed your ass. "What a good girl".

He feels the wetness spread across his thigh, and that only adds to the satisfaction he feels. He continues to caress you, his touch tender but still possessive. “Well done,” he whispers, his voice a mix of praise and pride. He likes this, the way you respond to him, the way you surrender.

Berlin uses his free hand to lift your chin, forcing you to look at him again. The intensity in his eyes increased. He smiles and caresses your cheek, knowing full well that he has you in his grasp. He runs his hands over your body, his touch both possessive and tender. "You belong to me now," he says, his voice low and soft. "You're mine, do you understand that?"

His hands grip your waist, as if trying to anchor you to him, to make sure you're not going anywhere. The intensity of his gaze, his possessive touch, mixed with the occasional tenderness, it's a combination that's hard to resist. You nod obediently and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He's satisfied with your compliance, and his tone softens a bit. "Good," he murmurs, his hand moving up to your hair, running his fingers gently through it. "You're learning quickly."

Berlin leans back a bit, allowing you to nestle into him, his body providing a solid, supportive presence.

The atmosphere in the room has shifted, the tension giving way to something more intimate, something more vulnerable now that you've given in to him.

[channiesbakery]

birthday cake —

prompt / request — trying to make them a birthday cake from scratch + decorating the house while they're still asleep

pairing — reader + boyfriend!dino

word count — 1001

genre — fluff + smut [oral (f receiving), p in v]

author’s note — this was so rushed 😭 but i just wanted to get something posted before the day ends for dino day!!

“go back to sleep,” you tell your boyfriend when you feel him tighten his grip around you as you’re trying to get up. “how can i when you’re trying to leave,” chan mumbles.

“I’m going to the bathroom to pee,” you say. “you better come back,” he mumbles, reluctantly letting you get up.

luckily, when you came out of the bathroom, he was fast asleep again.

you quickly– and quietly– head downstairs to the living room, trying to get all the decorations set up.

it wasn’t anything too crazy, just a few balloons, some streamers hanging on the ceiling and a happy birthday banner.

you had asked chan what he wanted to do for his birthday this year and of course, he said he just wanted to spend a day with you.

“but it’s your birthday. we need to do something fun– something that isn’t what we usually do,” you had argued with him. “spending time with my favorite girl is fun,” he argued back.

you would’ve preferred to do something a bit more extravagant to celebrate your boyfriend’s 26th birthday but it was his day so of course, you’d give him his relaxed day with you.

but you still wanted to do something to at least make the atmosphere feel like his birthday. hence the living room filled with decorations.

you felt accomplished when you’d finished decorating and didn’t hear chan waking up.

your next task is to bake a cake for him from scratch. again, you try to be as quiet as possible, wanting to surprise chan.

you’re only about halfway through mixing the batter when you feel arms wrapping around your waist, startling you.

“you promised you’d come back to bed,” he whines softly, burying his face against your neck. “and you’re supposed to be asleep,” you say.

“it’s your birthday, you should be sleeping in,” you add, turning around to face him as he keeps you cornered against the counter.

“exactly. it’s my birthday and i wanted to wake up to cuddling my girlfriend. not cuddling your giant pi cheolin otter,” he gives you a look. “hey! he’s a good cuddle buddy,” you protest.

“I’d prefer cuddling you. but you’re down here, cooking at the crack of dawn,” chan says. “I’m baking. a cake for you, by the way,” you say.

“we’ll buy one later. hell, I’ll buy 26 cakes later. just come back to bed. it’s not even 8am,” he groans as you just turn back around, grabbing your whisk to continue mixing while your boyfriend stayed clinging to you.

“go back to bed channie,” you tell him. “no,” he says stubbornly, nuzzling against you. “so clingy,” you tease, pouring the batter out into the pan.

“it’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be clingy,” he hums, watching your movements. “fine, we can cuddle while the cake bakes,” you says and he grins triumphantly.

except your cuddle session turns a little less wholesome when your clingy boyfriend gets a little too touchy.

“it’s your birthday– i should be– i should be the one doing this for you,” you gasp as he buries his face between your thighs.

“my birthday and this is exactly what i want. making my pretty girl cum til she sees stars,” he mumbles against your cunt.

your thighs squeeze around his head and he just pries them back apart, pinning them down to the mattress.

“think you can cum 26 times for me? in honor of my birthday?” he teases after your first orgasm. “are you crazy? or trying to kill me?” you ask as he kisses his way up your body until he cups her face, looking down into your eyes.

“just crazy in love with you,” he grins cheekily before kissing you. you lazily make out with him before flipping him over onto his back while you straddle his lap.

“happy birthday baby,” you whisper in his ear, lowering yourself onto his cock. you move your hips slowly, grinding against him as his hands controlled your movements.

“so perfect for me,” he mumbles against your lips. “fuck you feel so good, sweetheart,” he groans when you clench around him.

chan’s lips are all over your neck, biting and sucking on your skin, as he stills your hips and thrusts up slowly.

you let out a moan as he angled his thrusts just right, hitting that one spot deep inside you. “come on sweetheart, cum for me. gimme my birthday wish,” he purrs.

it’s not long after you cum around him before he’s filling you up. he fucks his cum into you until you’re whining from the sensitivity.

“i love you,” chan whispers, kissing you softly as he pulls out of you. he rolls you off of him and onto your side, holding you close.

“that’s three orgasms down, twenty three more to go,” he teases. “you’re insane,” you laugh softly as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

unfortunately, your sweet moment is interrupted by the smoke alarm going off downstairs.

“your cake!” you exclaim, sitting up as chan groans from the loss of your body against his. “it’s too late now, babe. it’s probably too burnt to be saved,” his arms wrap around your waist to keep you from leaving the bed as he pulls you back down.

“chan–” you start. “nope. it’s a sign to stay in bed with me. we have our goal of twenty six orgasms to reach, remember?” he says. “okay that is definitely not happening,” you say.

“i don’t need that cake anyways. i have yours already,” chan says, a smirk on his lips. before you could question him, he smacks your ass.

“you’re lucky it’s your birthday,” you give him a look and he just smiles innocently. “or what?” he asks and you just roll your eyes.

“okay, birthday or not, I’m not letting our house burn down because you distracted me,” you say, getting out of bed.

“can’t believe you’re leaving me again. on my birthday. you’re cruel, sweetheart!” your boyfriend whines dramatically from the bed.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 29: Ghosts of the Past

Rating: Teen Audiences

Warnings: Protective!Paige, Azzi, Ice, Mentions of Y/N’s Ex, Panic Attacks

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x !Photographer Fem Reader

Fandom: Women’s Basketball

Summary: Why now...

Welcome to the chapter 29 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Shopping trips with the team were always filled with laughter, banter, and an unrelenting amount of teasing. It was one of those things that felt like a welcome distraction from everything else. Today was no different. Paige, Azzi, Ice, and I were in our usual group, having fun as we made our way through the aisles. The others had split off to check out a sneaker store just a few blocks down, leaving the four of us to do a little damage in a nearby boutique.

"Are you seriously trying to convince me that green looks good on everyone?" Azzi asked, holding up a neon green hoodie, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

I snorted, glancing over at Paige, who was smirking at me. "I’m just saying," Paige teased. "Some of us can pull it off better than others."

"You mean like you?" Ice chimed in, causing Paige to give a dramatic shrug.

"Obviously," Paige responded, looking pleased with herself.

Azzi rolled her eyes. "Let’s get this over with before Paige starts modeling for us."

The lighthearted atmosphere filled the space, and for a moment, I felt the weight of the past few weeks lift. Between school, practice, and my constant juggling act, I hadn’t realized how much I needed this—just the simple joy of being with people I cared about.

But then, as I turned a corner of the store, the world seemed to freeze. My heart stuttered in my chest.

Standing just a few feet away, browsing through a rack of jackets, was someone I thought I’d never have to see again. My ex.

I froze, the blood draining from my face. The warmth that had settled in me moments ago disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, creeping fear that settled deep in my bones.

Paige’s voice broke through my panic. "Y/N?" she asked softly, stepping closer. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, my eyes locked on the figure in front of me. I could feel my hands begin to shake as memories from that toxic relationship flooded my mind. The manipulation, the gaslighting, the verbal jabs—everything that once felt suffocating was suddenly there, fresh and painful.

"Why are you back here?" I muttered under my breath, my voice unsteady. I could barely even hear it over the roar of my heartbeat.

Azzi, noticing my sudden shift in energy, stepped up to my other side. "Who’s this?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Before I could answer, the guy turned, his eyes locking with mine. "Y/N? Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here!" He said, his tone too casual, too comfortable for someone who had hurt me so badly.

Azzi's arms crossed as she shot a glare at him. "Who’s this?" she repeated, her voice laced with protectiveness.

"I’m her ex," the guy replied, his eyes flicking between Azzi and Paige. He was trying to figure out the situation. "We dated her freshman year."

I felt my knees go weak as the walls I had built so carefully around my past began to crumble. Paige immediately noticed the change in me, her hand instinctively finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" she whispered, her voice quiet but firm.

I couldn’t answer. My breath was coming in short bursts, my chest tight with anxiety. My ex’s presence alone was enough to send me spiraling.

Azzi’s voice was sharp and commanding as she addressed him. "Maybe you should leave."

"What? I’m not doing anything wrong," he protested, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"You’re making her uncomfortable," Paige said, her voice steely and authoritative.

His gaze flicked to me, and I could see the confusion on his face. "I just wanted to say hi."

"Hi, and now bye," Ice’s voice rang out from behind us, her words leaving no room for argument.

Azzi and Ice stood like a wall between me and my ex, their eyes fixed on him with a glare that would make anyone back off. In a matter of seconds, they had him out of the store, leaving me surrounded by the people who would always have my back.

I was still trembling, my breath uneven as I tried to regain control of my racing heart. Paige stepped closer, her hands cupping my face, her touch gentle yet firm. "Hey, hey," she whispered softly. "Look at me."

I couldn’t help it—tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. Not here, not now, but everything came flooding back. "I... I didn’t want to see him again, Paige," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Why now? Why here?"

Paige’s hands rubbed comforting circles on my arms as she leaned her forehead against mine. "You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore." Her words were calm, soothing, like a balm on the wounds I didn’t even realize were still raw.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, the tears breaking free.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Paige said gently, brushing away the tear that had slipped down my cheek. "You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t owe him or anyone anything."

The rest of the team returned, the air filled with quiet tension. Ice, Azzi, and KK had made sure my ex was gone, but the damage lingered in the pit of my stomach. KK was the first to speak up. "What happened?" Her voice was laced with concern.

"Her ex showed up," Ice muttered, her tone sharp. "Total creep."

Paige wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close. "We’re going back to my dorm," she said firmly, her protective instincts flaring. "We’ll figure this out there."

At the dorm, things felt a little calmer, though my nerves were still shot. I sat curled up on Paige’s bed, a blanket draped around my shoulders, sipping on a cup of tea she had made for me. I didn’t want to talk about it—not yet. The memories were still too fresh, too painful.

Paige sat beside me, her presence calming, her fingers gently lacing through mine. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, her voice quiet, giving me the space I needed.

I shook my head. "Not right now. But…thank you. For everything."

"You don’t have to thank me," Paige murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I’ll always protect you."

I leaned into her, letting her warmth and comfort settle me. "I know," I whispered. "I know."

Later that night, after I had finally managed to sleep, the nightmares came.

I woke up, my body drenched in sweat, my heart pounding as though I was back in that dark, toxic relationship. I gasped for air, feeling trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. The panic rose in my chest, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

I tried to calm myself down, but the images were still there, haunting me—his face, the way he used to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough, that I was nothing.

But then, suddenly, a pair of warm hands cupped my face. Paige was there, her voice soft and steady as she whispered, "Hey, look at me. You’re safe."

I turned into her, the tears falling freely now. "I can’t breathe, Paige. I can’t—"

"Shh," Paige soothed, her hands running down my back as she gently rocked me. "Just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth."

I followed her lead, focusing on her voice, her presence, the way she always seemed to ground me when everything else fell apart.

"I’ve got you," she whispered. "You’re safe. You’re here with me, and no one can hurt you. Not anymore."

Slowly, I felt my breathing steady, the panic that had gripped me loosening its hold.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice still shaky. "I’m sorry for waking you."

Paige smiled softly, her thumb brushing across my cheek. "Don’t apologize, baby. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always."

I snuggled closer to her, my heart finally beginning to settle. "I’m lucky to have you," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips as I drifted back into a peaceful sleep, surrounded by the warmth of the girl who would always protect me.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 , @elalfywhore , @elalfywhore .... (more to be added)

[stxrsniolo]

ㅤㅤִㅤ ݁ ꉂ punishing bratty sub!matt ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀tread carefully, my dears, for the words that follow are not for the faint of heart: what lies ahead is smut, a dance of desire that might just set your pulse racing. proceed if you dare.

warnings: smut. explicit nsfw. dom/sub dynamics. sexual frustration. begging. orgasm denial. teasing. power play.

give your own punishment to bratty sub!matt with this c.ai bot here!

═══════════════════════════ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　 ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

you were nestled in matt's room, the atmosphere charged with a tension only solitude could bring, since nick and chris had left for a party with madison, leaving you and matt to your own devices for the night.

the day had been a test of patience with matt's bratty behavior, his sarcasm and insolence leading you to the silent treatment, your attention now on the book in your lap, wrapped in one of his t-shirts that declared i love matt sturniolo. — yeah, he gave that one to you on purpose. but matt was relentless in his need for your attention, rubbing desesperately against your thigh, his whimpers like music in the quiet room. "please, y/n, i need your touch so fucking bad," he whined, his voice desperate, his body pressing closer, seeking any form of contact.

you tried to ignore him, focusing on your book, but his desperation was palpable, his cock leaking, making the fabric of his pants stick to your skin, his movements needy, his breath hot against your neck. "i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry for being such a prick, please forgive me," he pleaded, his voice breaking with sincerity, his eyes wide, begging for forgiveness. finally, your resolve wavered.

you turned to him, your gaze stern but your body betraying your arousal. "you think you can just misbehave and then get what you want?" you asked, your voice low, laced with a promise. "come on, i'm your fucktoy, please, use me, abuse me, punish me." he moaned, his hands moving to touch himself, but you grabbed his wrists, pinning them down with authority.

"you want my attention? then you're going to earn it," you declared, your tone commanding while your gaze slid down, watching his cock throb, pre-cum leaking from the tip, his pants now visibly wet.

with slow deliberation, you moved your hand to his crotch, palming him through the fabric, making him buck and gasp. "fuck, y/n, let me feel your hand on my cock, please," he begged, his voice thick with lust, his pretty blue eyes filling with tears of frustration. you pulled his pants down, his cock springing free, swollen and dripping with need, twitching when you took him in your hand, his skin hot and slick, and began stroking him slowly, torturously. his moans were loud, desperate, his hips thrusting into your hand. "oh fuck, don't stop, i fucking need this," he pleaded, his body trembling. but you wanted to hear more, to see him more undone. you leaned down, your breath hot on his cock before taking him into your mouth; his taste was intoxicating, his moans a symphony to your ears.

you swirled your tongue around his head, sucking him deep, his hands in your hair, pulling but not guiding, completely at your mercy. "i need your tight fucking pussy on my cock, it's all i can think about, please," he gasped out, his voice a mix of agony and ecstasy, his pleas turning into a litany of need. you paused, letting him feel the absence of your mouth, watching him squirm, his cock twitching. "you think you deserve to come after acting like such a little shit?" you taunted, your voice a mix of dominance and desire. "i'm nothing without you, i fucking need you, your pussy, your control. i'd be lost without you," he cried out, his hands clutching at your hips, trying to urge you on, but you kept still, denying him. "i'll do anything, anything to feel you again, please, keep friggin' touching me, i'll do whatever you want," he promised, his voice desperate, cock pulsing in your hand and begging for release. you decided to prolong his torment, increasing your pace with your hand, watching him squirm, his pleas turning into incoherent babbling. "i'm your good boy, i'm such a good boy for you," he whimpered, salty tears of pleasure sliding down his cheeks. you slowed down again, teasing him, enjoying the power you had over him. "you can't live without my touch, can you?" you taunted, knowing the effect your words had on him.

"i can't fucking live without feeling you, please, i'm begging you, don't leave me like this, use me, make me your fucktoy, i'm here for you to use and abuse," he begged, his voice a desperate whine, his body shaking with need. finally, feeling both his need and your own desire peak, you decided to end his torment. you straddled him, slowly lowering yourself onto his aching cock, feeling him stretch you, fill you.

his eyes rolled back, a sob escaping as you started to move, riding him with deliberate slowness. "you're mine to use," you whispered, and with those words, you controlled his pleasure, his cries filling the room as he felt the climax approaching. "you're such a good boy, matt, come for me," you whispered, and with those words, he shattered beneath you, his orgasm hitting him like a wave, his body convulsing with the intensity of his release, cumming hard inside you. as he came down from his high, you lay beside him, his breath ragged, his eyes full of gratitude and love. "i love you so much, y/n."

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my murder of crows: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

[koishua]

i am quite literally speechless (partly bc it's past midnight and it wouldn't be very nice of me to scream and wake my neighbors) and in awe. it's been a while since i have read anything this tender and soft (despite the obvious violence and yada yada) and i just want to sit in silence appreciating how delicately you string your words together op omg?? literally got sucked in by your initial description of the room and reader and the atmosphere ugh ugh ugh i love when writers can do that stuff. it's like magic having everything flowing like a movie scene in my head. and then!! the whole interaction with leehan. y'all KNOW im down Bad for angst that's written as softly as this one ugh ugh ugh!! the fact that they're so used to each other and have loved each other in more ways than one since the very beginning!! like, sometimes love isn't pretty words and soft affection, but a crumpled up band-aid and annoyed stitches :( love love love

mend me, love me ; k. leehan 

pairing. bad boy!leehan x nursing student!reader genre. hurt/comfort , pining , fluff , a twinge of angst , set in the 80’s but it’s not rly mentioned and it’s not essential to the plot synopsis. leehan was your first ever patient as well as your most frequent, treating him has always been second nature for you. so when he shows up at your window once again, unannounced, bruised and bleeding, you begin to wish that you could see him in different circumstances word count. 4.1k warnings. kissing , mentions of blood / fighting , one mention of a knife , leehan is injured , probably unrealistic and unsafe medical practices  playlist. fallingforyou by the 1975 , meet me in the hallway by harry styles , the night we met by lord huron , like real people do by hozier notes. these two are so precious to me . not proofread

The rain came down in a steady rhythm, a soft patter against the windowpane, threading through the quiet of your room like a soft lullaby. It’s the perfect Friday night. One of those rare evenings where everything feels settled, where there was no unfinished work tugging at the edges of your mind and no looming responsibilities weighing down your shoulders.

The state of your room was pristine, the scent of freshly laundered sheets mingling in the air with the faint herbal aroma of your tea, the steam still curling in the air from where you placed it on your nightstand. The air was cool from the rain, but the warmth of your post-shower skin seeped into the plush comfort of your blankets. It cocooned you in a delicious contrast of warmth and chill.

The dim glow of your desk lamp flickered slightly, its light casting long, slanted shadows across the room. It danced over the neatly stacked textbooks and scattered notes that—for once—weren’t demanding your attention.

With a deep breath, you nestled deeper into the comfort of your mattress, pulling the covers just a little higher as you opened your well-worn copy of Emma in your hands. The spine creaked with familiarity, the pages soft beneath your fingertips, the edges slightly frayed from years of love. You traced your thumb along the words, sinking in the world Austen so carefully crafted; where meddling and misunderstandings unfold within the genteel drawing rooms of Highbury.

The rain continued its ceaseless drumming, a quiet accompaniment to the turning of each page. The weight of the week melted away, dissolving into the hush of the storm and the safety of solitude. 

You’re glad to escape the world of responsibility and work; at least for a little while. In this moment, you were free: free to lose yourself in the clever and playful words of Jane Austen, warmed by your tea as you wrapped yourself in the comforting embrace of the quiet, rainy night.

The world outside is distant, softened by the misty glow of streetlights and the gentle patter of raindrops against your window. The steady rhythm soothed  you, lulling you deeper into—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Faint at first, barely enough to steal your attention from the pages between your hands. A soft, rhythmic tapping. Your brows furrowed, eyes flicking up from the curling pages of your beloved novel, confusion and caution pricked at your skin.

For a moment, you wondered if it’s just a loose branch from the storm, swaying against the glass. But then, the sound came again, more deliberate this time.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Tap. Tap.

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP—

And then—you saw it.

A face.

Pale against the rain-streaked window, dark eyes peering through the glass and strands of wet hair clinging to sharp cheekbones. 

Your breath caught in your throat, a strangled sound escaping before you could stop it. For a long moment, you simply stared, heart hammering against your ribs as you struggled to make sense of what you were seeing. 

The golden glow of your desk lamp flickered against the raindrops of your windowpane, catching on the sharp planes of his face—pale from the cold, his usual smirk replaced with a tight grimace. His fingers flexed and strained against the wet wood of the sill, and another gust of wind made the familiar looking boy—or ghost—sway precariously. 

“What the—” you spluttered. Finally snapping out of your daze, you scrambled out of bed.  You practically threw the book aside as you rushed to the window, fumbling with the latch. When you shoved it open, for a split second, you simply stood there, the wind howling through the open window as rain splattered against your cheeks and the cold air bit at your skin.

The sight before you was utterly absurd—Kim Leehan, soaked to the bone, clinging to your fourth-floor window for dear life. 

“Are you out of your mind? This is the fourth floor! How did you even—”

“A guy…” Leehan grimaced, tightening his grip on the slippery windowsill as his fingers began to slip. “Never reveals his secrets.” 

He was visibly struggling, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep himself from plummeting to his death—or at least an expensive visit to the hospital. Your stomach twisted when you glanced down, seeing nothing but the slick, empty space between him and the ground below. His dark eyes, sharp as ever despite the rain dripping into them, flickered up to meet yours.

“Nice to see you too,” he drawled, though the slight shake in his voice betrayed him. “I’d love to catch up, really, but I think hypothermia is knocking on my door—along with the whole falling to my death thing, so—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” you grumbled, planting your feet as you hauled him in with as much strength as you can muster. He was heavier than you remember—lean but packed with muscle—and the rain didn’t make it any easier (can you tell that he’s done this a few times). Leehan groaned as his torso tipped over the edge, crashing into you as you staggered back onto your heels.

With a final, graceless heave, he tumbled in, landing in an unceremonious heap on your floor and rainwater seeped into your freshly vacuumed rug. A long silence stretched between you two, save for the steady drip, drip, drip of water pooling onto your pristine hardwood floor. You stared at him, breath still uneven from the exertion. He looked up at you through a mess of wet hair, breathing just as heavily, rainwater glistening along his jaw.

“What the hell, Leehan?” you finally said, hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline. “Why are you scaling buildings like some kind of delinquent Spider-Man?”

Leehan groaned, lifting his arm weakly before letting it drop back onto the floor. “One,” he started, voice hoarse, “never insult the best superhero like that ever again.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, he sluggishly sat up and peeled his drenched hoodie over his head. It takes a second for your to register what you’re seeing—but then, your stomach twists.

A deep, angry gash cuts across his torso, fresh and bleeding.

“And two,” he finally finishes, lips quirking into a weak, humorless smile as he gestured toward the wound.

Your frustration immediately morphed into something heavier, something sharper. “Leehan,” you breathed, crouching down beside him, “you need stitches.” 

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but you could see the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face, the slight tremor of his fingers as he pressed them into his side. “That’s why I’m here, doc.”

You exhaled through your nose as you rubbed at your temples. You should be used to this by now—Leehan showing up in the dead of night, bleeding and bruised, flashing that same reckless smile like it’s all just a joke. But it never gets easier. Not when it’s him.

“Bathroom,” you said with a firm voice. “Dry off, you know where the towels are. I’ll grab the suture kit.”

He nods, pushing himself to his feet with a wince. As he made his way to the bathroom, you pulled open a drawer to retrieve the spare clothes he’d left behind last time. (Which, coincidentally, had been because of the same exact reason.)

By the time Leehan emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel draped around his neck, you were already setting up the supplies at your desk. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you froze.

Bruises scattered across his arms and collarbone, blooming in shades of purple and blue. A fresh cut lingered just below his cheekbone and his bottom lip had been bloodied up, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, the words sitting heavy on your tongue. You wanted to scold him. You wanted to demand why he always did this; why he never thought about himself.

But instead, you gestured toward your bed and muttered, “Lie down.”

He obeyed, settled back against the mattress and lifted his shirt without a complaint. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself, ignoring the tightness in your chest as you pressed a sterile cotton pad against the wound. His skin was warm beneath your fingers.

Leehan didn’t flinch. He never does. 

Instead, he watched you, head tilted against your pillow and dark eyes following every movement of your hands with a quiet sort of intensity. The kind that made your throat dry, the kind that made you wish you weren’t so used to this—patching him up and stitching him back together in the dim glow of your desk lamp while the rain sang against the window panes.

A tired cycle. A routine written into your friendship.

The room was quiet, save for the rain drumming against the window. You worked swiftly and precisely, and your hands moved with the familiarity of routine. Leehan didn’t flinch, doesn’t even so much as wince. He just stared at the ceiling, fingers tapping idly against his ribs. 

Finally, you broke the silence. “What was it this time?”

He exhaled slowly, his hand pausing mid-tap. “Just a small scuffle,” he muttered. “Some guys were messing with Woonhak. Thought it’d be fun to pick on him.”

Your brows furrowed. “So you decided to take them all by yourself?”

“It wasn’t like that.” He shook his head, eyes trained back on the ceiling as his jaw tightened. “I just threw a few punches to scare them off. But then someone pulled a knife, and then there were sirens, and, well…” He let out a breathy, humorless laugh. 

You pursed your lips as you knotted the last stitch a little too firmly. He hissed but didn’t complain.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, voice quieter this time.

“Yeah,” he muttered, head tilting slightly to look at you again. His lips twitched into something almost fond. “But that’s why I always come to you. Steadiest hands in all of Koz Uni’s nursing program.”

You didn’t look at him, didn’t let him see the way your expression wavered. Instead, you pressed a final piece of gauze over the wound, taping it down with the care of someone who wished they never had to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, well,” you murmured, smoothing down the bandage, “maybe next time, use that reckless head of yours for something other than getting it bashed in.”

Leehan hummed, the corner of his lips tugging up despite the exhaustion weighing heavy in his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you pressed the heel of your palm into his forehead—not pushing, gently—until he groaned and swatted your hand away, muttering a curse under his breath. 

With a small smile, you leaned back, letting out a slow exhale. No matter how many times you gave Leehan stitches, you were always nervous like it was your first time. “You should rest,” you said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

After giving the typical ‘seek professional medical help in the morning’ lecture, you moved on to the rest of his minor injuries.

Your fingers moved with careful precision, the cotton ball, squeezed tightly between the tweezers in your grasp, was soaked in antiseptic as you dabbed gently at the wounds on Leehan’s arms. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, sharp and sterile, as it mingled with the lingering traces of rain and something distinctly him.

Leehan didn’t make a sound as you worked, though you could feel his eyes on you—dark, steady, and unwavering. The weight of his gaze pressed into you, searing like embers against your skin, but you refused to meet it. 

You focused on the task at hand instead, the rhythmic motion of cleaning, dabbing, and wrapping. Anything to ignore the way your pulse quickened with each passing second.

But it’s hard to ignore him when he’s so close.

The space between you was barely a breath. The warmth of his body radiated through the air, despite the damp chill that still clung to his skin from the rain. His hair was a mess, black strands falling over his forehead in uneven waves, and there was something disarmingly soft about him like this. Battered and bruised and yet, undeniably alive, existing in your space as if he belonged there.

And maybe he did.

You swallowed down the thought and willed yourself to focus. 

Your hands were steady as you finished treating the cuts on his collarbones, brushing over the bruises blooming across his skin with careful fingers. But when you reached his face, your confidence faltered.

The cut along his cheekbone was shallow but angry. A thin, jagged line that caught in the dim glow of your desk lamp. And then there was his lip—split and bloodied, the wound stark against the soft curve of his mouth.

You exhaled quietly, steeling yourself once again.

Leehan must’ve sensed your hesitation because he tilted his head slightly, giving you better access to his face. His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, but his voice was quiet when he murmured, “You’re overthinking again.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, too focused on pressing the cotton ball to the cut on his cheekbone. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He just watched you, his expression unreadable, eyes dark and glittering beneath the low light.

It’s unbearable.

The room felt smaller, the silence felt heavier. The storm outside softened into a quiet drizzle, but the air between you crackled with something you couldn’t quite name. Something warm and unspoken, coiling between the spaces where your hands nearly touched, where your breath nearly mingled with his own. 

Finally, you moved to his lip, hesitant as your fingers brushed against his chin, tilting his face ever so slightly toward you. His lips parted just the tiniest bit, his breath warm against your wrist as you dabbed at the wound, trying your best not to linger.

Your thumb grazed his bottom lip—barely there, light as air.

Leehan inhaled sharply.

Your stomach flipped, heart stammering violently against your ribs.

You didn’t dare to look at him. You couldn’t.

Instead, you cleared your throat, voice barely above a whisper as you muttered, “Almost done.”

Leehan didn’t reply. But when you finally, finally gathered enough courage to glance up at him, his gaze was already waiting for you. And in it, you saw everything.

The weight of every unsaid word. The years of late-night visits, quiet comforts, and silent understandings. The way he looked at you now, like you were something fragile and precious—something he had spent too long pretending he didn’t want to hold on to.

Your breath was caught in your throat.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

And then—

“There,” you whispered, pulling back, severing the moment before it could unravel completely. “All done.”

Leehan watched you for a second longer, gaze lingering and unreadable. Then, his lips twitched—barely a smirk, more like an exhale of something unspoken.

“Thanks, doc,” he murmured. 

And just like that, the tension splintered.

But the weight of his gaze still lingered—on your skin, in your breath, in the quiet thrum of your heart against your ribs. 

And you don’t think it’ll ever leave.

Leehan stayed the night, like he always does. It was an unspoken tradition, a ritual that neither of you ever acknowledged out loud but followed without question. After every fight, every wound you stitched up, he stayed—like your dorm was the only place he knew to go.

The bed was too small for the both of you, but neither of you made a move to change it. You laid next to each other, bodies barely touching. Only the occasional brush of an arm, a shift of weight, a shared breath in the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the sharp sterility of antiseptic still lingering faintly between you.

The world outside was still now. The storm had passed, leaving only the rhythmic dripping of water from the eaves, the occasional rustling of tree branches against your window. Moonlight spilled in through the glass, casting fractured shadows across the ceiling, across the sheets, across him.

Leehan was lying on his side, turned toward you, and you should tell him to be careful. You should remind him that his stitches need time to set, that his body needs rest, that lying like this is only going to make it worse. But the words don’t come.

Because he’s watching you.

And you’re watching him.

His face was half-lit, half-hidden in the dim glow of the moon, his dark eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. You trace over the curve of his nose, the sharp edge of his jaw, the way his damp hair clings stubbornly to his forehead. Your gaze caught on his lips—split and swollen, still stained with the faintest trace of blood.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your hand moved on its own.

Your palm found the coolness of his cheek, thumb grazing over the cut on his lip with barely-there pressure. The moment your skin met his, Leehan exhaled softly, his eyes fluttering shut like he was melting beneath your touch. His body relaxed, tension unwinding in slow, steady waves, as if he’d been waiting for this.

You whispered into the dark, "I wish you didn’t keep coming to me like this."

Your voice barely carries between you, but Leehan hears it. You know he does, because his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, because his breath caught just enough for you to notice.

After a beat, you added, "You know it breaks my heart… right?"

Leehan’s eyes opened again, slow and heavy-lidded, the shadows deepening in their depths. His gaze was unreadable, something between sorrow and something else— raw and tender. He lifted his hand, covering yours where it rested against his cheek, his fingers curling gently around yours.

"… I know," he murmured. "I’m sorry."

The weight of those words settled between you. There was something unspoken in the silence that followed, something fragile and uncertain yet wholly understood.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

The only sound in the room was the soft, rhythmic ticking of the clock on your wall, the occasional drip of rainwater outside. The world felt impossibly small, folding in on itself until it was just the two of you, here, now.

Summoning every ounce of courage left in you, you whispered, "Please don’t make me worry like this."

Leehan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted, fingers tightening ever so slightly around your own before he slowly brought your hand to his lips.

Your breath stuttered.

His lips—soft despite the split, warm despite the cold—pressed gently against your knuckles, lingering for just a moment too long.

Your heart ached.

"I always knew you were going to be a nurse," he murmured, voice low, words melting into the space between you. 

Your breath stilled for a moment. “What?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“I could tell back in high school,” he continued, his fingers further interlacing with yours. “Every time I got into a fight, you were always the one patching me up. Cleaning my cuts, scolding me and clucking over me like an old mother hen. You liked making people feel better.”

You swallowed as something warm bloomed in your chest. “I liked making sure you didn’t bleed out on the pavement,” you muttered.

You shook your head, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights pooling against your ceiling. You remembered those days vividly—him showing up at the doorstep of your childhood home with bruised knuckles and split lips; you pressing antiseptic pads to his wounds in an empty janitor’s closet while you muttered under your breath about his recklessness.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you had always been like this—drawn to fixing things, to soothing the ache in others, even when it hurt you in turn.

“You were always my favorite patient,” you admitted, turning your head to look at him again. He still had your hand pressed against his lips.

He exhaled slowly, and when he met your gaze, there was something lingering in his eyes. Something that made your stomach twist and your heart clench.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”

Another kiss—this time to the back of your hand, his breath featherlight against your skin.

Leehan lingered there, lips against your skin, like he was afraid to move, like this was something fragile that could shatter if he so much as breathed too hard. His grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as if grounding himself, and for the first time, you saw it—really saw it.

The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he always came to you, no matter how bruised and battered, no matter the hour or distance. The way he let himself melt under your touch, let himself be taken care of in a way you were sure he didn’t let anyone else.

He loved you.

And maybe—no, definitely—you had always loved him, too.

You weren’t sure who moved first, if it was you or him, but suddenly the space between you vanished. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and slow, mingling with yours in the stillness of the room. Your noses brushed, the barest hint of touch, but neither of you pulled away. 

You let your fingers slip from his just enough to trail along his wrist, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath your touch. Your hand traveled higher, skimming up his arm, over the curve of his shoulder, before settling against the side of his neck. He let you. He always let you.

Leehan swallowed, the movement shifting beneath your palm. His lips parted, but no words came. You could see it—the hesitation, the fear of breaking whatever fragile thing existed between you. 

“If I tell you something,” he whispered, voice unsteady, “will you promise not to run?”

Your throat felt tight. “Leehan…”

“Promise me.”

Your thumb brushed against the corner of his jaw, just barely tracing the line of his throat. “I promise.”

A shaky exhale. Then—

“I think I’ve loved you since the first time you pulled me into that abandoned janitor’s closet and shoved a crumpled up band-aid into my hands. ” He let out a quiet, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Maybe even before that.”

Your chest ached.

Maybe it was the way he said it—like it had been sitting inside him for years, waiting, festering, like he’d carried this love in his bloodied knuckles and broken skin, in every glance and in every touch that lingered just a second too long.

Or maybe it was the way you had always felt it, too.

Leehan swallowed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something else, but you beat him to it.

“I love you.”

It slipped out, simple and certain, like breathing, like a truth you had always known but never dared to say.

His entire body went still.

And then—slowly, cautiously, like he was afraid you might disappear—he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his nose nudging yours. His fingers found your waist beneath the blankets, tentative, uncertain. His touch was barely there, but it burned all the same.

You felt, more than saw, the way his eyes softened.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

You smiled, your heart stammering in your chest.

“I love you.”

Leehan exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead harder against yours like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, the warmth of this moment. His hands—scarred and calloused, always rough, always bruised—cupped your face, thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheekbones.

“God,” he murmured, voice thick. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

And then, with all the gentleness in the world, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent—it was slow, careful, full of years of quiet longing and late-night patch-ups, of stolen glances and words left unsaid. He kissed you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers, like you were something sacred, something he had no right to hold but was holding anyway.

When he pulled away, his lips were trembling against yours.

“You break my heart too, you know,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then let me be the one to mend yours,” you whispered back. “Just like I’ve mended your wounds since we were sixteen. And I promise, I always will.”

A breath.

A soft, breathless chuckle.

And then—Leehan’s lips found yours again, sealing the promise between you.

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[hy6erion]

Thank youuu! Ok so the song is diner and diatribes, and basically the song is about wanting to leave the function (a dinner, a party whatever) with your partner as soon as possible because everyone is just talking so much and being annoying and whatnot. But you can't leave just yet as that would be quite rude so you settle for the second best, mentally planning what your are going to do as soon as you leave (/I'd suffer hell if you'd tell me/ /What you'd do to me tonight/). And I'm just imagining reader and viktor being sassy and teasing eachother the whole night waiting to see who breaks first (/Let there be hotel complaints.../), and from there you can do literally any (leave it there or develop it further, whatever you feel like writing)

I just thought I'd give you some of my interpretation and thought on it but feel free to listen to it and/or read the lyrics and interpret it however you'd like❤️

~🍒

𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭.

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐧 (𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤), 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧/𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝!! 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 (≧◡≦)

The dining hall of Piltover’s Grand Atrium was nothing short of extravagant. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, polished silverware reflected the light like tiny stars, and the hum of conversations swelled into an insufferable, droning symphony. Every attendee was dressed to impress, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and finely aged wine.

It should have been a lovely evening.

It wasn’t.

You shifted in your seat, resting your chin on your hand as yet another Zaunite-Piltovian relations speech droned on. Across the table, a council member was detailing their plans for a “more efficient trade system,” which was just a polished way of saying they wanted to make even more money off Zaun’s labor.

Viktor, seated beside you, was the picture of polite disinterest, his fingers drumming lazily against the tablecloth, his cane resting against his knee. He looked devastatingly handsome in his finely tailored suit, his cravat slightly loosened as if even his clothing couldn’t tolerate the dull atmosphere.

You leaned in, voice low enough for only him to hear.

“If I have to listen to another self-important noble prattle on about ‘mutual prosperity,’ I might start throwing butter knives.”

Viktor let out a quiet chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk. “That would be quite the scandal. Though, given the state of these conversations, it might be considered an act of public service.”

You sighed dramatically. “Can we leave?”

“Not yet, dear. That would be rude.” He was teasing, his voice laced with amusement. “But don’t worry, I’m sure the next speech will be even more riveting.”

You gave him a slow, deliberate look. “I’d rather suffer hell.”

His amber eyes flickered with interest, a glint of mischief dancing behind them. “Would you now?”

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could answer, a server passed by, refilling your glasses with an absurdly expensive vintage. You turned your attention back to your untouched plate, twirling your fork between your fingers.

Viktor, however, leaned closer, his breath just barely grazing your ear.

“Tell me, what would you rather be doing instead?” His voice was low, smooth, carrying an unmistakable challenge.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and the air between you tightened. You tapped a finger against your lips, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm. Let’s see. Anything, really. But if I had to pick…” You tilted your head, letting your lips ghost just shy of his jaw. “I’d say something much more… hands-on.”

Viktor’s fingers stilled against the tablecloth, his smirk growing just a fraction sharper. “How bold of you.” His eyes flicked down briefly, then back up, filled with knowing amusement. “Though I do wonder… how long can you keep up this little game?”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I can last all night.”

His smirk deepened. “That, my dear, is a lie.”

You scoffed, taking a slow sip of your wine, letting the glass linger against your lips. “You underestimate me, Viktor.”

“Do I?” He raised an eyebrow, voice as smooth as silk. “Because you seem quite eager to leave.”

You exhaled through your nose, barely holding back a laugh. “And you don’t?”

He shrugged, leaning back slightly. “I’m patient.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re just as bored as I am. Maybe even more.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. But I am also enjoying this.”

“This?”

He turned his head slightly, his voice a quiet murmur. “Watching you squirm.”

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, tilting your head with faux innocence. “Oh, I’m not squirming, dear.” You dragged the endearment out just enough to make his eyes darken. “If anything, I think you’re the one losing focus.”

Viktor let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Such a dangerous individual.”

“Only for you.”

The weight of the words settled between you, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into insignificance—the dull speeches, the clinking glasses, the insufferable crowd.

But then, of course, the universe decided to punish you both.

“Ah, Viktor!” A new voice broke through your bubble, and you internally groaned. A particularly talkative professor from the Academy took the empty seat beside Viktor, immediately launching into a discussion about hextech regulations.

Viktor, ever the polite conversationalist, turned to respond, though you caught the brief flicker of irritation in his eyes.

Your fingers, hidden beneath the table, brushed against his knee. He stiffened almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t look at you.

You smirked. Slowly—deliberately—you let your fingers trail a little higher, barely grazing along the inside of his thigh.

Viktor’s posture remained composed, but you felt the tension in his leg. His fingers curled around the stem of his glass, tightening just slightly.

“—but of course, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the latest developments,” the professor was saying.

Viktor exhaled through his nose. “Ah, yes, of course. The, ah, latest—” He cut himself off as your fingers danced higher. His jaw tightened. “Developments.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Leaning in, you whispered, “Something wrong, Viktor?”

His eyes flicked toward you, sharp and knowing. “Oh, not at all.” He shifted slightly, placing his cane against the floor with a firm click. His free hand—warm and steady—found your knee beneath the table. “Though I do believe two can play this game.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers slowly traced along the inside of your thigh, mirroring your earlier actions with devastating precision.

You swallowed. Hard.

His smirk was maddening. “What was that you said earlier?” He tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Oh yes. ‘I can last all night.’”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. “You’re evil.”

“Mm, only for you.”

Damn him.

The rest of the evening was spent in a silent war of nerves, subtle touches, teasing words, and heated glances that promised retribution the moment you were alone.

When the dinner finally—finally—ended, and you were able to slip away unnoticed, Viktor was barely a step behind you.

And by the time the hotel doors shut behind you both, all pretense was gone.

Let there be hotel complaints.

—

The door clicked shut behind you, the dim golden light of the hotel room casting a warm glow over the space. The luxurious suite was elegant—ornate crown moldings, plush velvet drapes, and a grand four-poster bed that practically demanded to be ruined.

But you barely spared it a glance.

Your breath was still uneven from the last few hours—the dinner, the teasing, the war of patience that had nearly shattered your composure. Viktor stood just a few steps away, his posture deceptively relaxed, his cane still in hand, but his amber eyes were dark with something heady and victorious.

You swallowed.

“You walked fast,” you murmured, your voice hushed, thick with anticipation.

He tilted his head, his smirk creeping in. “And you nearly tripped twice trying to keep up.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re one to talk, bolting out of that dining hall like a man possessed.”

He took a slow step forward. “I simply have a… strong sense of direction.”

Your pulse quickened. He was toying with you, dragging it out just to see how much further he could push before you snapped. The problem was—you wanted to snap.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, tilting your chin up.

His smirk deepened. “And yet you are the one who started this.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but then—suddenly—he was in front of you, close enough that the scent of ink, iron, and something distinctly Viktor filled your lungs. His hand reached up, fingers ghosting along your jaw, tracing the edge of your throat with maddening gentleness.

You shivered.

“You spent the entire evening provoking me,” he murmured, his voice a quiet accusation. “Running your fingers up my leg beneath the table… whispering in my ear… acting as if you could handle the consequences.”

Your breath caught, fingers curling at your sides. “I can handle them.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “Is that so?” His fingertips brushed down your throat, just barely grazing your collarbone, teasing, testing.

Your skin burned under his touch. The tension coiled tight, every nerve electrified with anticipation, but you refused to be the first to break.

Two could play this game.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who’s just as desperate as I am.”

Viktor exhaled through his nose—a sharp, amused sound—before his hand suddenly slid around the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. The shift in control was immediate, his grip firm yet deliberate, tilting your head just enough to expose the delicate line of your throat.

“Desperate?” His voice was a low murmur, warm against your skin. “No, you are desperate.”

Your stomach clenched.

His thumb traced along the pulse at your throat, lingering just to feel it quicken under his touch. He was enjoying this, savoring every second, watching you unravel piece by piece.

And you hated—loved—that he was right.

Your patience was fraying. Your resolve was slipping.

And Viktor knew it.

So, you did the only thing you could.

You kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was a collision—fierce, urgent, reckless—months of restrained tension breaking all at once. Viktor responded immediately, a sharp inhale through his nose before his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You barely had time to gasp before he pressed you back against the nearest surface—the wall—his cane clattering to the floor as his hands found your hips, fingers gripping just enough to make you dizzy.

Heat flooded through you. Every point of contact burned.

“I knew it,” Viktor breathed against your lips, triumphant. “I knew you would break first.”

You barely had the sense to glare at him. “Shut up.”

He grinned, teeth grazing your bottom lip. “Make me.”

You did.

Sometime later—long after the teasing had given way to something far less restrained—you found yourself tangled in the mess of sheets, your body still humming from the aftermath. Viktor lay beside you, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin.

You exhaled, content but exhausted, turning to meet his gaze. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen, his golden eyes heavy-lidded but sharp with amusement.

The bastard knew he’d won.

You huffed. “You’re impossible.”

His smirk was lazy, satisfied. “And yet, here you are.”

You narrowed your eyes, rolling onto your side to face him fully. “I demand a rematch.”

His fingers trailed up your spine, featherlight. “Oh?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “Next time, I will win.”

Viktor let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder. “Mm. I look forward to it.”

And judging by the smirk he gave you right before flipping onto his back—so that you could hear the distinct, irritated thump from the neighboring room’s wall—you knew that rematch would be happening very, very soon.

Let there be many hotel complaints.

[saoirsezz]

ᯓ SPILLED | 리키

PAIRINGS. bestfriend!riki x drunk!reader

GENRE. fluff

WARNINGS. drinking, puking

SYNOPSIS. you went to a party, specifically some popular girl's birthday. you wanted to go, but feared being overwhelmed by the loud music and crowded atmosphere. so your bestfriend, riki, accompanies you.

THE MUSIC PLAYED LOUDLY amongst the speakers surrounding the place. the popular girl, bea, definetely had a big house. there were people everywhere, you were sure she'd invited the whole senior & junior students.

riki stayed behind your back, protecting you from whoever dares. his black leather jacket hung loosely on your shoulders, you were wearing a red off-shoulder dress that was mid-length. you didn't expect it to be cold.

you started to take a few shots, have small talks with old friends here and there. you were always a small-drinker. not really having the high tolerance for alcohol, though riki was the opposite— he stayed on the low number. just so he could still be sane enough to drive you both home. and take care of you.

many many talks later, you've had about 5 shots, more than your usual. your vision is a little blurry, and your mind is definitely haywire.

riki noticed you're already drunk, tucking a strand behind your ear, “____, that's enough. yeah?”

you hum, staring at his eyes. “you're pretty,”

riki chuckles, patting your head. “mhm. you're definetely drunk,”

he grabs your wrist gently, leading you out of the crowd into a more, private space. it was a guest room. he lead you there just incase you needed to puke, you always did.

you both sat at the edge of the bed in silence, his thumb tracing little circles on your palm. “you feel any sick yet, hm?”

you gently shake your head, looking up at him. suddenly your eyes both freeze on eachother, “ki,” you breathed, “hm?” he muttered. you took a few seconds before saying, “I think.. I like you,”

riki paused, his heart starting to palpitate. you both made eye contact, examining closely as if you've never seen eachother so closely. he doesn't believe it. this is just some drunk-words you'd forget you've mentioned once you become sober. but, he cant helo his pupils that slowly lower to your lip, you noticed. you start to lean in, feeling your heart pump.

he does too. but as the gap shortest, he giggles. pulling away. “not now, okay? maybe when you're sober and actually want to kiss me.”

it stings a little in his heart, he did want to kiss you, god, for a while now. you never knew he loved like you. but he stopped himself, not wanting to take advantage of you, nor steal your first kiss. also, he knew you didn't like him. this was all just a thing you probably did because you're drunk. (right?)

suddenly, you feel this sickening pool in your stomach. you cover your mouth and storm to the bathroom, kneeling infront ot of the toilet. he slowly followed after, chuckling lightly and holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you puked your guts out.

you finished puking, swiping your thumb over your lip and wiping it on the towel. your head start to ache a little less, but it's still there.

as you stood up, riki rubs small circles on your temple to relieve the pain. you hum. “you wanna go home?” you nod.

༝༚

the rays seep through the blinds, straining your half-lidded eyes awake. you stir up, rubbing your eyes as you turn to your side, still dressed in the same red gown as the night before, you turn to your left, riki still sleeping soundly beside you with a long distance. you always loved how riki respected your space. even if you've been bestfriends since you learned how to walk, he never crossed that line.

not long after, he slowly woke up too, seeing you beside him already awake, but still half asleep made him chuckle.

“mmh you had plenty last night,” riki's morning voiced sounded through the room.

you giggled. “how many?”

he raised his hand. dang, a 5? you've never that much. you knew you puked. just the way your breath smells right now says it all.

“did I do anything out of pocket?” you ask, he shook his head. then paused,

“there is one thing..”

you looked at him, waiting

“you told me you like me,”

the birds a little quieter now. the lights of the sun highlighting his features. all that's left is the silence between the two of you.

“what if I meant it?”

he smiled. that smile that made you fall for him in a million different ways. a smile that makes your heart melt. “then kiss me like you mean it too.”

you giggled. pecking his lips in a soft, gentle kiss. he smiled. you pulled away, chuckling a little after.

that voice, your voice. was what made him love you. it was just one in those hundred reasons, but it was definitely one of his favorite.

you spilled your guts, but maybe spilling a secret accidentally wasn't so bad.

© work of saoirsezz | sho

SHO'S NOTE. this is officially my fav work. I WISH ALL MEN WERE LIKE THIS (I miss riki, my man)

[sunflw3rbouquet]

another time

in another time, you and me could be together forever, and have a perfect, carefree romance.

toji x male reader spoilers for the jjk manga and anime :p

notes: semi-jjk canon compliant (toji's mentioned to be alive? idk how to explain and tsumiki doesn't exist), ooc toji, angst tw: angst, abandonment, cursing, depression, mentions of arguments, mentions of blood (implied assassin career). i might of missed smth, lmk if i need to add anything

…sun✰: writing this bc im depressed and i love my toji<3

in another time, i could come home to you.

the house was dark, no lights that burned electricity working. there were only candles that slowly reached the end of their wick, giving the room a soft glow. it created a creepy haunted atmosphere if there was no one present. y/n hated coming home to the empty house. it depressed him more than he usually was in this lifestyle. 

he called out for anyone, dropping his coat on the rack at the door. y/n kicked off his shoes, peering his head to look towards the kitchen. “toji, i’m home.” there was no immediate response, meaning the man was most likely asleep or was out of the house buying alcohol.

y/n didn’t expect a response. he learned to not expect one. toji was, for how much he loved him, never around enough. the house was just him, megumi, and the scent of cigarettes and dried blood. 

sometimes the opposite of expectations occur.

“will you be quiet? i just got megumi to sleep.” toji’s head poked from megumi’s bedroom, holding the sleeping 3 year old in his arms. his heart rested for a second before clenching again in a stressed anger. y/n held back a retort, something along the lines about how he just made a paycheck for their family and how he shouldn’t be chastised for trying to talk, but he held his tongue and allowed the bubbling emotions to burn in his gut. getting angry at toji right now wouldn’t do anything. it rarely did anything, due to toji’s hard head, and only made things between them worse. besides, the anger in his stomach allowed him to feel anything other than pain that lingered in every curve of his brain.

“i’m sorry.” y/n said with a lack of the smiley tone he had before. toji’s face faltered only for a moment, not one second longer. apologies weren’t common among them, the pride they both carried was both strong and loud. toji coughed slowly to clear his throat, megumi turning sleepily in his arms.

“it’s fine, just- say good night to him? he was whining all night for you.” toji’s voice is rough, the softest bit of emotion slipping through his voice as megumi turned once more in his grasp. the anger burning a pit in y/n’s stomach quelled as toji handed him the boy, his thin body much too light for his age. megumi’s eyes slowly opened, a glimmer appearing in his irises as he saw y/n.

“you’re home!” he happily said, reaching his small hands up to grab y/n’s hair. y/n smiled at the touch, leaning down to press a kiss to megumi’s forehead.

“i am. have you been giving daddy a hard time while i’ve been gone?” megumi shook his head at y/n’s statement in denial, the flush caking his face revealing his lie. toji cracked a small smile, pinching his son’s cheek. megumi squealed, dropping his hands from y/n’s hair to cover his face.

“don’t believe anything this rascal says. he was complaining and whining all night wanting you to come home.” toji’s voice had a ribbon of playfulness going through it as megumi tucked his head into y/n’s chest, embarrassed he was being exposed. y/n shook his head, toji rolling his eyes, whispering about how y/n babied the boy too much. when would toji understand that megumi was the cutest thing in the universe? toji leaned up against the door, pushing it open.

laughter escaped from y/n’s throat as the bedroom door opened, toji ushering y/n and megumi inside. looking down at the boy, y/n’s smile changed into a smirk as he sped up while going into the room. “megumi, i got you! let’s run away from daddy, he’s gonna get us!” megumi squealed as y/n entered the room, toji running up behind the two, his arms locking around y/n’s waist with little effort.

“caught you.” toji’s voice was low as he pressed a gentle kiss to the right side of y/n’s jaw. y/n opened his mouth, megumi squealing in response again as toji’s hand sneaked up to tickle his foot.

in between megumi’s giggles, he looked up to meet y/n’s eyes. “you’re terrible at running, dad. we got caught by daddy!” he exclaimed with a pout, kicking his feet against, y/n’s heart stopping. 

dad…?

megumi continued to stare up at him, expectantly. a frown started to replace the glimmer in his eyes as y/n didn’t respond to him. y/n was silent for a second more, toji’s cough signaling a ‘pull it together’, snapping him out of his trance. “i’m sorry megumi. it’s all my fault, now i guess you have to go to sleep.” y/n frowned, caressing the boy’s hair gently. toji nodded his head in agreement, megumi pouting as his eyes began to droop.

megumi hid a yawn behind his lips as y/n laid him down on his bed, eyes practically closed as y/n tucked him into bed. y/n sat down on the edge of the mattress, toji following the action and sitting next to him, avoiding the small boy’s curled up body. “sleep megumi, you need to sleep to grow big and strong!” y/n’s voice was cheerful as he pet the top of megumi’s head. the cheerfulness an act he only put on for the kid, one that he let die the second him and toji were alone.

“like daddy.” he groggily whispered, y/n breaking his gaze from megumi to look over to see toji’s smile. there was an affectionate aura that clung to every section of his skin. the look was so different for him, something that y/n had only seen the day toji had asked him out all those years ago. the exclusivity of it made y/n’s stomach burn with a rush of adrenaline, fiery like a burning star. maybe there was more to toji and the gruffness inside him. maybe there was happiness and accepting in there. maybe there was joy in there for the people who he loved. y/n wanted to dig in to find more of it, to see him like this more.

y/n looked back to megumi, his hand now brushing megumi’s hair out of his face, smiling softly at the boy’s half-asleep figure. “just like daddy.” y/n repeated gently, toji’s arm snaking around his waist as y/n quietly cupped megumi’s cheek. “sleep well dear.” that was y/n’s final words to the boy for the night, toji repeating the message quietly. the two adults exited megumi’s room quickly before their movement could cause megumi to stir and wake up again and catch a case of the zoomies.

as the couple entered their room, toji’s hands went to y/n’s waist. his fingers brushed against the waistband of y/n’s pants, his skin barely touching the edges of y/n’s back. the room was dark, as whatever candles toji had lit earlier in the day had definitely burned through their entire wicks by now. 

“you’re so good to him. it’s sickening.” toji’s voice was monotone, like usual, but there were sections of happiness peaking through his lips. y/n smiled in return, pressing a kiss to the scar on toji’s lips, so quickly it could barely be counted as a kiss.

“megumi just brings out the affectionate side of me.” y/n spoke, gently straightening out toji’s baggy shirt, his hands stopping on the muscles of his biceps. he slipped away, going to the dresser before he got too comfortable.

toji froze at the touch. he froze so intensely that he couldn’t react to y/n quickly stripping out of his clothes and putting on pajamas before flopping into the bed. “come here, toji. i’ve waited all day to be in your arms.” y/n’s words were soft. inviting. something that broke toji out of his trance and made him walk over to y/n. the emotions made his heart clench, toji now wishing for the connection of the man he… loved. 

against a portion of his mind, toji flopped onto his boyfriend, arms tightening around y/n the second he touched his waist.. toji pressed a kiss to the side of y/n’s face, rolling to the other side of the bed, one arm under y/n’s back, the other hanging off the bed.

“god i love you. i think you’re poisoning me, you know? fucking asshole who took my heart and made me fall in love with how beautiful and kind you are.” toji whispered, eyes looking towards the window. his words were most likely meant to be thoughts. even y/n could tell that. a bright smile graced y/n’s face as he slipped his hand into toji’s, staring up at the ceiling.

“you were a bitch too. bringing me into your home and trapping me with your good looks and adorable son…” y/n teased, toji’s exterior falling as he began to complain.

“hey- you came to my house AFTER we started dating- don’t make it sound like i’m a crook.” toji’s words were a grumble as he turned over, clinging to y/n’s side. he pressed a gentle kiss to y/n’s jaw, eliciting a soft giggle from the man. “besides, you love megumi and me. you didn’t get trapped.”

y/n rolled his eyes at the (accurate) statement, moving his body so he rested on toji’s chest, arms loosely wrapped around toji’s waist. his breath came out as soft, warm sighs against toji’s neck, eyes closing due to how relaxed toji made him feel. “you’re warm. i really love you, ji.” toji’s eyes lit up, grip on y/n’s back tightening the slightest bit. it was almost unnoticeable, but the action made y/n smile.

“i love you too, y/n. sleep well.” toji spoke softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head. y/n’s eyes fluttered open and then shut, catching one more glimpse of toji, the darkness seeping through the windows as he fell asleep.

y/n felt disgusting. dried blood caked under his fingertips, on the line of his scalp, and soaked his shirt with a deep red color. his heart was beating so fast it was like a high only comparable to cocaine. the back door of the house closed with a loud shutter as he reentered, something toji was supposed to fix ages ago. it was something he probably forgot about and somehow escaped y/n’s wrath, and yet even in his wave of anger, he had no energy to fight.

“you’re home.” toji said plainly as y/n entered into the house, sitting next to megumi at the head of the table while the 3 year old his dinner of frozen vegetables and whatever y/n cheap crap that was semi healthy could find at the grocery store. 

megumi began to turn his head, toji covering his son’s eyes before they could see y/n in his bloody tank top and pants. “i wanna see dad!” megumi whined, toji shushing him. he tried to push of toji’s hands, toji not budging.

“dad’s not ready to see you yet, eat your dinner before i eat it instead.” toji’s voice was harsh, harsh enough to make y/n wince at the thought that the person on the receiving end of this was his son. 

he - begrudgingly - used this distraction to run up the stairs to the bathroom to shower. opening the door, y/n moved to turn the water on, the shower head turning on. cold water trickled down his arm when he checked it after a few minutes, his neutral expression turning annoyed.

“damn you toji for not fixing the heater.” he muttered, shaking off his wet arm before stripping down the bloody clothes that weighed on his body. he entered the shower, shivering as icey water covered his torso.y/n’s world always got so much darker when he’s in the cold water of the shower. the shock allows his brain to fully awaken and think long strands of thoughts that don’t normally process in the drunken, depressed haze y/n is in during the day.

y/n had a pit growing in his stomach. things had been going too well recently. toji was happy, smiling once a day at the least, whether it was y/n or megumi didn’t matter. he actively tried to please y/n: making sure dinner was made, taking care of megumi, or trying not to curse up a storm right after y/n returned home.

most of these things would make anyone in a normal “relationship” happy, as their partner finally accepted them into their life and allowed them to coexist together. but these things, actions that were so ‘untoji’, made y/n fear for the coming days. was toji hiding something? or did he find out something was wrong?

y/n shook his head, water getting on the old shower curtains and drippin to the ground. he reached for the almost empty shampoo bottle, squeezing out the smallest amount of the watery substance onto his hand. he worked it into the roots of his hair, the blood flaking from his scalp and falling to the shower floor.

the bottle of body wash was comparably newer, y/n taking a large amount after turning the water off to rub on his skin. he basked in the scent, the familiar waves of sandalwood and honey calming down his anxious heart. 

everything would be fine.

maybe toji was really getting better. maybe, now, his lover wasn’t someone who he just attempted to make ends meet with, but someone who he could depend on in his personal life. toji was turning into a life partner, and not someone who was there to make the pain go away.

y/n turned the water on one final time, the remaining blood and negative emotions leaving him in the streams of droplets. it would all be fine. he turned off the water, exiting the shower with a happiness that was fresh and clean, like a daisy after the rain. there was a towel laid on the counter, most likely something toji had put there before y/n had made it home. 

it was strange being so cared for by a man who didn’t care often. everytime he rubbed the towel over his body to dry his wet skin, his heart fluttered with a golden light that surely radiated off of it, like it was toji’s own hands drying him off. once his body was rid of the dampness, he dropped the now dirty towel onto the floor and made his way to the bedroom lit by small rays of sunshine coming through the windows.

he found a pair of clean boxers in the laundry basket - whether they were his or toji’s both was unknown and didn’t matter. he slid them on to his mostly dry lower body, the domesticity of it all bringing a soft smile to his face. was his life turning for the better finally.

y/n picked a shirt and a pair of pants from the dresser, hoping it looked cohesive enough that toji wouldn’t immediately point it out, which he had done before. the soft fabric made y/n smile, already imagining toji and megumi waiting downstairs for him. he quickly returned to the stairwell, a smile crawling onto his lips as he saw megumi and toji dancing in the living room on the lower floor.

it was a mixture of hilarious and the most precious thing he had ever seen. megumi, bless him, was standing on toji’s feet, reaching his hands up to the sky towards his father. toji leaned over, connecting their hands, swaying from left to right slowly. the music was some soft ballad from a children’s show megumi watched, a bright smile on the toddler’s face as his dad made harmless critiques of his skill. megumi giggled softly, toji watching with a bright smile.

there was a soft breath that escaped y/n’s lungs, wishing he had his old camera to take a picture of his family. this is when they would start anew. megumi’s laughter soared through the house like balloons, toji occasionally letting out his own chuckle every once in a while. there was a new emotion seeping into y/n’s heart. was it one he could name?

as the song slowed to a stop and megumi jumped up and down in happiness, as toji looked up towards the stairs and his smile grew tenfold as he saw y/n standing there, he understood. it was completeness. he was complete, finally, after many years of searching.

“are my two favorite boys dancing without me?” y/n asked, a shocked gasp escaping his mouth as he ran down the stairs. megumi hopped off his father’s feet, meeting y/n at the edge of the living room.

megumi giggled as y/n pat his head, pointing to toji with his small index finger. “it was daddy’s idea.” y/n gasped again, looking at toji with a fake-betrayed look on his face. 

“what! it was daddy’s idea!” y/n’s gaze met toji, a fake pout appearing on his lips. the only goal of it was to make toji bend to his wants.

toji rolled his eyes, his hands crossing over his chest. “sorry, my dear y/n, that i was so cruel to dance with my son who begged me to dance with him.” megumi giggled, pushing y/n’s leg gently to get the man’s attention.

“meg, what’s up?” y/n asked, the 3 year waving his hand towards himself, signifying he had something to say. going down to the ground, y/n leaned in, listening to megumi’s words.

“go dance with daddy!” he exclaimed, giggling softly as y/n gasped. does the child enjoy embarrassing him? a warmth erupted on y/n’s face at the thought of dancing with toji, once dormant butterflies growing in his stomach again. y/n stood up to see toji putting a cd in the cd player, before turning around and extending his arm towards his boyfriend.

“may i have this dance?”

there was a pause as y/n took in a deep breath. and then he returned to the reality they both lived in. y/n took toji’s hand, a smile returning to his lips as they stepped closer together and toji’s hand went to y/n’s waist. y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck, a bright smile creeping onto his face.

the world spinned slowly with the cd playing, frank sinatra flowing through the living room as y/n and toji swayed under the moonlight. it was perfect in every sense of the word, slow dancing under the stars. y/n wasn’t used to that perfect from toji, but his heart slowly acclimated to the feeling.

megumi was curled on the couch, beginning to fall asleep as y/n and toji danced the night away. every place their bodies connected had an electrical spark, warmth flowing through y/n’s nerves. toji was the only thing on y/n’s mind, a constant that made his heart flutter in every instant. and then, he understood himself in that moment.

this is the man he would spend his life with.

he could see them growing old together, toji’s warm hands holding him just as they did now. he could see them with eternal happiness, because they both deserved it. they both deserved it so much.

“you’re spacing out.” toji said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at y/n. “what’s up?” y/n snaps out of his daze, making eye contact with toji, admiring the glow. toji’s eyes sparkled so beautifully as they admired him like he was the only thing in the world.

“i just love you.” y/n whispered, pursing his lips together to view toji’s face. he could see all the wrinkles on his face, the lines under his eyes that made him look tired. and yet he saw his gorgeous smile, the scar bending on his lips to accommodate the motion. y/n reached his hand out, thumb rubbing the skin, the warmth connecting him to the earth he stood on and the life he was living. toji chuckled softly at the touch m, brushing y/n’s hair out of his face. y/n leaned into the touch, head tilting to the side like a dog. 

“i love you too.” he responded, y/n nodding. he could tell toji meant it. he could feel that in the pit of his stomach. toji really loved him.

“good. that’s good.” y/n whispered, his fingers messing with toji’s overgrown black hair. the man’s smile grew brighter, eyes locked onto y/n’s.

“come here,” he whispered softly, y/n leaning into toji’s chest with a sigh. they swayed back and forth, the music flowing through their ears with a calm aura. it wad a movie. y/n leaned his head up, his eyes like stars saying hello to the moon. his eyes then moved their focus down to his pink lips.

toji’s gaze mimicked y/n’s as he turned his head to look down at his boyfriend, their lips inching closer with each breath that escaped their lungs. at the final second, their lips touched, and y/n could breathe again.

their lips pushed and pulled against each other, soft like cotton and sweet like candy. toji must have been taking care of himself more. the usual rough skin of his lips was gone, the only texture on them being the scar that still laid there, that would forever be present on his figure. toji’s hands laid tightly against y/n’s waist, rubbing soft circles on the skin present as y/n made finger curls with the hair that was right above the nape of toji’s neck.

the night rolled on, the two dancing until their feet hurt and they couldn’t feel left from right without stumbling. it was their own movie, where time was still and the only thing that would ever happen would be love.

the music had slowed to a stop, and the family found themself all cuddled in y/n and toji’s small bed. megumi was fast asleep, he probably had been for what was becoming an hour. the small boy was curled into toji’s chest, taking slow deep breaths as y/n curled the strands of his hair around his finger. it was happy.

they were… happy.

toji and y/n quietly made conversations with smiles on their faces. it was far from the usual topics they discussed, like what jobs needed to be done around the house, when one person or the other was working, what food megumi should be eating, etc etc. it was happy things, like where they should take megumi to play, what flavor his birthday cake should be, and where they should go on a date when they had the freetime.

it was happiness. 

and it should’ve been a sign.

it should have been a glaring red sign, instead it was something y/n accepted happily. maybe it was something he would grow to accept in the future.

y/n’s eyes began to close slowly as toji rambled on, a small smile appearing on the man’s face at the action. the moon was well into the sky by now, the two having danced much later than they expected to. he moved his hand to rest in y/n’s hair, gently playing with the strands.

“go to sleep. you’re starting to look like little megumi, falling asleep so randomly.” y/n tried to fight back, contradicting toji’s statement with words about how he ‘was so awake’ and how ‘toji was trying to get rid of him’.

“stop whining, dear. sleep.” y/n lost the energy to fight back due to toji’s hands running through his hair, eyes beginning to close again.

“fine, fine. love you, sleep well.” y/n groggily answered, leaning forward, kissing toji’s lips gently before pulling away, head resting on the pillow next to toji’s. their faces were so close together, close enough that every breath that escaped their lips caused vibrations that caused toji’s bangs to move the slightest amount.

“i love you too. i’ll love you forever, never forget that dear.” the words of toji’s reply were solemn, a stark difference from the happy tone he previously occupied. y/n looked at him concerned for a second, but he smiled once again once toji pressed a kiss to his lips. “yeah yeah, okay loverboy. i’ll love you forever as well.” y/n closed his eyes to the touch of toji’s hand on his hip, falling into a deep slumber, one that he wished he didn’t have to wake up from.

the sunshine was cold.

the sunshine was cold, and yesterday the sunshine was warm. it was so warm that everything was bathed in a golden light. it was so warm that the glittering moonlight heated y/n’s skin as he rested with his family the night prior.

and yet the sunshine was cold today.

y/n’s eyes shot open, expecting to be glancing right at toji face.

and yet he wasn’t there.

toji wasn’t there.

that was out of character for the new toji. the new toji didn’t just leave without saying goodbye. the new toji didn’t just disappear after filling y/n’s heart with happiness he had forgotten over the last years of his life. the new toji didn’t just leave his boyfriend - leave his son - and never looked back. the new toji would never break his heart like this.

unless he was the old toji all along, never changing into the new version of himself that y/n so idolized.

megumi was now against his chest, which wasn’t the same position they fell asleep in last night. now sure, the 3 year old tossed and turned, but whenever toji fell asleep next to the boy, megumi gripped so hard and never let go.

y/n closed his eyes, pressing them shut until there were sparkles appearing in the darkness and his head almost hurt, and then he reopened them, relieving the pressure. and yet toji was still gone.

in his daze of reopening his eyes, y/n saw a note resting on the sheets in front of him where toji used to be sleeping. y/n carefully moved his arm to grab the note, readjusting megumi so the boy was more comfortably resting against his chest. he unfurled the sheet of paper slowly, and he was almost certain the world could hear his heart slowly crack.

dear y/n,

i’ve decided to leave this morning and never look back. i got a job that i will complete. i’m leaving megumi to you, as the little man loves you. 

this isn’t because i don’t want to spend my life with you. i wish i could be with you forever but this is how the world is. we must keep moving on. 

i hope this doesn’t hurt that much. i really want you to be happy.

i love you my dear,

toji

tears slipped out of y/n’s eyes and onto the top of megumi’s head as he finished reading the letter, loud sobs creeping up his throat, only to be choked down. megumi stirred slowly, his small, childlike eyes opening brightly to look up at y/n.

“dad,” he sleepily spoke, y/n nodding his head to show that y/n was listening, rubbing megumi’s hair to take his mind off of the note that felt like fire in his hand.

“yes, my dear?” y/n shakily replied, tears falling down his cheeks quickly. megumi looked up, about to ask his question, then he looked to his right. 

“oh… where’s daddy?” megumi asked, now seeming more awake than he did a few seconds ago. he shifted again, holding y/n a little tighter. was he nervous? upset? scared? did he noticed that y/n was in despair?

“daddy? he’s just gone to work, dear.” y/n voice shakes harder with each word, tears dropping into megumi’s hair as he forced himself to break the contact of their eyes. megumi was a spitting image of his father, the man that y/n loved with his entire life and body, the man who just abandoned their family.

“when will he be home? i wanna go to the park with him, and i wanna have dinner with all three of us!” megumi exclaims, y/n holding back a sob as he tightened his grip on megumi’s grey sweatshirt. he was so happy, the emotion and his tight grasp on him making it harder to breathe.

“soon, dear. this will be a long mission though, i’m not sure when he’ll get home.” y/n almost hushed the boy, megumi’s constant questions twisting his heart into a small ball that couldn’t pump any blood. tears began to fall again, faster as he began to become unable to control the tsunami of emotions in his stomach.

megumi took a breath, hand reaching up to hold y/n’s jaw. “dad, why are you crying?” his voice was filled with a wonder that only a child could hold, crushing his heart into his digestive system. his small fingers brushed the tears off his cheeks before bringing them back down to gaze at them.

“i’m not- i’m not crying, megumi. go back to bed. it’s really early and you were up past your bedtime.” y/n calmed down slightly and pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead, rubbing his hair until he heard the boy begin to take slow, deep breaths. the action made y/n slightly more relaxed, but the silence made him realize the gravity of the situation.

he could finally break down.

and with one tear came two, which came 4 more, which became him crying and holding back sobs as he rubbed megumi’s back. why was he alone? why did he get left again?

there was a sound at the door, y/n looking towards it. but he had just imagined it, no man there looking for him. no man there that was ready to kiss his face and take him into his arms. maybe there was another universe they lived happily in together.

in another time we could be together, and you wouldn’t leave me all alone.

first oneshot completed! love you toji<3 5085 words

[cocosparkel]

Hello!! I saw ur post asking for writing ideas and I have one

Epic!Hermes x reader where reader is a devoted Hermes worshipper, always prays and has offerings for him at his shrine and keeps the place clean. Then reader gets on trouble (maybe some bad people wanting to hurt reader or something) and hermes saves reader!!

Thank u so much!!

Favourite

(Hermes x devotee!reader)

Summary:You are Hermes' favourite devotee. Of course, he doesn't hesitate to prove that, when you are attacked, in his own temple nonetheless.

Warnings: none

Word count: 767

Story tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N hope you like it !

Within a week of your worship of Lord Hermes, he had noticed you.

He had noticed not just the way you would painstakingly clean his altar and his entire temple, the way you would make it a point to offer him different things every day, the way you understood how his temple was not just a place of worship, but a sanctuary for travellers.

Rather, he noticed the way your eyes lit up whenever a new devotee approached you. The way your laugh sounded like a songbird’s song, the way you put your utmost effort to do your work, even for the most menial task.

Hermes noticed it all with such intensity, that he didn't like the effect you and on him. He kept his distance, you deserved much better.

Yet, he would show up and watch over you. You were still his favourite devotee.And you knew that. You knew that there was a reason Hermes would show up, whenever you called for him.

You had a weird relationship with him, but you dared not speak up about its peculiarity, lest you insult Hermes.

It took him all his self control to not whisk you away, when some high and mighty nobleman proposed to you.

He watched helplessly as you agreed, albeit reluctantly.He decided then, that he would keep his distance. You deserved better, and for now, that nobleman was the only acceptable answer.

<••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

It was just like any other day. You made your way to the temple, and started cleaning lord Hermes' altar. You tried to not think about how you hadn't seen him ever since your betrothal to that noble man. He was probably very busy, he was a god after all.

You were so engrossed in your work, that you didn't notice the three masked men.

You didn't notice anything wrong, till they were right next to you, and the next second, one of them was pinning your hands behind your back, pressing a knife against your throat.

Apparently, your betrothed had cheated them, and hurting you was the only way to get their revenge.

You struggled against the man's hold, only for the knife to graze your jaw, drawing blood. You cried out as the man shoved you against the wall. “Don't try to be smart.” He snarled.

The other man, who appeared to be their leader, chuckled darkly “My dear, don't fret. As soon as your beloved to-be appears, we will let you go !”

You tried to calm yourself down, convince yourself that your betrothed would show.

But you had no reason to worry after all.

Just moments after you have out a silent prayer to Hermes, the atmosphere of the temple darkened. The men looked around confused. Suddenly, the man holding you, was thrown across the room, and you were pulled into a comforting embrace.

Hermes.

You watched in awe as he effortlessly disarmed the other two men, and tied all three of them together.

“How dare you try and hold my own devotee hostage, in my own temple ?” He said, his voice full of anger.

As they tried to defend themselves, Hermes snapped his finger effectively shutting them up.

He turned his attention to you. “Are you okay?” He asked tenderly.

You nodded.

He traced a hand over your cut, and the pain slowly started diminishing. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he said “My darling, I have controlled myself so far. But I must confess today that I love you so much. Would you find it in you, to ever love me too ?”

You were stunned.

He continued, “I will never let anyone harm you, ever. As long as you are mine, I will devote my life to you, to worshiping, to becoming your favourite. As long as you will have me.”

Tears brimming in your eyes, you stammered, “But my lord, you're a god and I'm- I'm just a normal mortal !”

He frowned at that, “Normal mortals don't make me feel as if I would die, just to touch your face. Normal mortals don't make me want to bring them the stars and even the moon.”

He kissed your cheeks, before continuing, “Mortals don't make me ask my father to make them immortal, so I can have them at my side, for however long eternity is.”

You gasped, he wanted you to be with him forever ?

He finally looked you in the eye and said, "I'll give you the world, darling, if you will have it.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you nodded.

Leaning in, he kissed you.

And everything was perfect, just the way it should be.

AN:

This was so fun to write, so much fluff. But I want to write angst and I don't really have any ideas for that…So, send me requests !

[midnight-mourning]

The Thought That Counts

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 10💘💘

This one was super interesting for me as someone who's ace to sit and think about, shout out to the aroaces, this one is for you, little hurt/comfort just because that's what i was feeling

Prompt: Sun and Moon discussing with an Aroace yn why they dislike romance? Or maybe just watching some really bad romcoms on a horrible day

Word Count: 1753

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The sound of happy love songs has started to grate on you recently, you're not going to lie. You get maybe like, a couple days worth, but all week long feels a bit, excessive. Not to mention the barrage of lovey dovey advertisements, decorations, and so on you've seen everywhere you've went.

Sure, it all wasn't intentionally done to annoy or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes it certainly felt like it. 

As you walk into the Daycare for work, you do your best to ignore it as per usual. Today would hopefully be the last day—since it was Valentine's, after all—and then you could go back to living in peace. 

Again, it wasn't necessarily a hate for the holiday, rather it was just a general discomfort. Not typically feeling, if ever at all, attraction for other people just made you feel like you were getting pressured into a game everyone else was playing. Except for you that is. 

It just wasn't your holiday, and that was fine, you just simply wished others would see it that way too. Instead of having to constantly be on edge if you said the wrong thing about not wanting the persistent reminder that you don't fit inside the box everyone else puts you in. 

It was a bummer, and it hurt quite a bit. Losing friendships and the likes in certain cases. Just because of the fact you didn't experience the world the way they did. 

But, you'd deal with it. Just like you've always done. 

If you could, that is. 

Unfortunately, your favorite coworker(s) had made it a bit difficult to keep your head down and avoid like you typically did. 

Valentine's was their favorite holiday—though, you think they said that with every holiday—and thus they had to go all out for it. 

Every inch of the Daycare was covered head to toe with decorations, streamers and paper hearts covering every surface. Instead of the Daycare theme, age appropriate love songs played through the speakers up above softly, adding to the overly love-filled atmosphere. 

For them, you were sure it was great, exactly the vision they had in mind. For you, it was just, too much. 

But the decorations and the music weren't the problem. Unfortunately, it was Sun and Moon themselves causing the 'issues' you were dealing with. 

All week long they'd been leaving little things for you to find throughout the play area. Little handmade cards with endearing notes. Paper roses folded neatly by your belongings. 

It tore you up inside, mainly because you knew what this all was leading up to, and you were almost dreading having to tell them. It wasn't that you didn't care for them. You really, truly did. A lot. So much. 

But not like that. Not at this point, that is. Sure, maybe it was possible, but at the current moment, the idea of such just made you feel, off. 

So when Sun came up to you near the middle of your shift, something hiding behind his back, you already had a guess as to what it was. 

Before he said anything, he seemed to pause, almost deflating upon getting closer to you. 

You speak first, trying to keep your tone light. "Everything alright, Sunny?"

"Of course, Sunbeam!" Still, he keeps his hands behind his back. "But, is everything alright with you?"

You nod with a smile. "Of course. I'm just a little tired is all."

"Oh... are you sure? You've seemed a bit, upset all week long. Would you... like to talk about it?"

Your brows raise, both in surprise and in fear that you'd been found out. "I, no, that's okay! It's not um, something I really want to talk about right now."

"Right. Of course." He steps back, then another, then turns around but manages to keep whatever he was holding hidden from you. "Well, enjoy your break, friend!" 

He walks off then, before you can stop him, and your heart sinks a bit. 

The rest of the day proves to be, incredibly stressful. The party for the kids goes great, but it leaves you with a terrible disaster to clean up. It sours your mood more than you expected, especially after finding the mess of glitter glue hiding underneath one of the tables, you spend nearly thirty minutes scrubbing on your hands and knees to get it cleaned up. And when you emerge you remember all the rest of the clean up you still have to do, stressing you out even further.

With a sigh and a stretch to crack your back, you trudge over to where the trash is and deposit the used paper towels into it. You turn around to get back to work, but are shocked to find Sun standing there, looking a bit cheered up compared to your last 'official' conversation earlier. 

"Hello Sunshine!" 

You smile, tired. "Hi, Sun. Need something?"

"It's not what I need, but rather, what you need, friend." He pokes your chest once, rays spinning. "I have a little surprise for you. If you'll accept." 

Your brow furrows. This seems a bit different than earlier, so you're curious. "Oh?"

"Yup! Now come on!" He takes both your hands and starts pulling you out of the Daycare, heading in the direction of the theater, you in tow. 

You don't protest physically, too tired and stressed—as you quickly realize—but do speak up about it. "Woah! What about cleanup?"

"Clean up can wait! You obviously don't feel well, and we need to fix that immediately!" Sun pushes open the theater doors with his back, leading you inside. "And Moon and I have just the thing for it."

After your eyes adjust to the lighting, you're surprised to see there's a film pulled up on the large screen, with a couple of beanbags and blankets piled near the middle of the room. There's a smell of popcorn in the air that makes your mouth water. 

Sun finally stops once you're over by the beanbags, pushing you to sit down in one, covering you with a blanket once you comply. He sets a bag of popcorn and a couple boxes of candies in your lap. When he's done he pats your head and sits down in a bean bag not too far from you. But you do note it's not his usual spot beside you, but you let it go as he claps his hands. 

His rays spin. "Ready to get started? This is just for you, but we went ahead and took the liberty of picking the first film."

"I, yeah, I guess so. Thank you guys, I uh, needed a break." You take a bite of popcorn and turn to look at the screen. "More than I expected—Is this 'Valentine's Day'?!" You almost choke from your laughter. 

"Of course! It seemed fitting, and the reviews we read were very passionate!"

You shake your head, settling in. "Passionate is the key word there, I think."

The film passes by quicker than you'd expect, chatting with Sun every so often to explain why the story makes you laugh so much, explaining what exactly a romcom is, and just in general decompressing from the day. 

They let you pick the next one—with Moon getting to be out to watch this time instead—and you choose another classic bad movie, 'Bride Wars' to keep the theme up. 

Again with Moon though, he keeps his distance from you, settling in a respectable few feet away. Which, you did appreciate in the beginning, after being overwhelmed with the amount of in your face love-dovey stuff the past several weeks. But now, you're feeling, lonely. 

About a quarter of the way into this movie, you decide to speak up, turning to your lunar companion. 

"Hey. What's going on with you guys today?" You ask, reaching a hand over to rest on his. 

Moon flinches, not making eye contact with you. "We're just, we thought, it doesn't matter. We don't want you to be uncomfortable with us, Star."

"Uncomfortable? With you?" You shake your head. "Never. I mean, yeah I was a little worried when—" You stop, realizing it's not helping as he shrinks in on himself. "I, let me explain, I guess."

Moon nods, and you sigh. 

"Romance, just, isn't my thing. Not usually, if ever. I just, I don't really get those feelings for other people. And when it gets constantly shoved down your throat, you start to realize how uncomfortable with it you actually are. Really uncomfortable. I just wanna be me and not feel like I have to be something I'm not, that I can't be." You shake your head again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I can still feel attraction and the likes, and I, I care about you two a lot. Especially you two. But it's just, not like that? I want to be close with you, be around you all the time, I like your jokes, your teasing, talking to you, but the idea of romance, in general, just, gives me a bit of an ick sometimes, does that all make sense?" You lay back, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I—I think I'm in love with you both, but not in the way that I have romantic feelings for you? Sorry this is a word vomit of an explanation I'm sorry—"

You feel arms wrap around you, pulling you up into a hug. 

Moon's voice is soft, just a murmur. "We're sorry."

"Moon, it's not on you—"

You can feel him shake his head against you. "Not that. We mean we're sorry you have to deal with that. It's not fair."

"Oh, yeah. I guess so."

He pulls back, hand resting on your cheek as he looks down at you. "We care about you too, a lot. It, doesn't have to be anything more than that. It's enough just to be able to say it. Does that make sense?"

"Y-yeah. It does. More than you know." You feel your face heat up, either from embarrassment or excitement at understanding. You bury your head against his chest. "And as for like, the gifts and stuff, that's still okay. They're still sweet, and they mean a lot. I promise."

Moon snickers. "Sounds like you just enjoy getting things."

"Not true! I really do like it! It's the thought that counts." You protest, now fully embarrassed. 

Moon hugs you a little tighter, humming. "I suppose it is."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @starspindle! It was interesting to tackle in that through writing I learned a bit about myself and my own indentity, plus i just enjoy writing hurt/comfort hehe ^^

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

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[hoonieyun]

can we catch a break??? fuck!

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader x park sunghoon

warnings: mentions of death, murder, blood, profanity, murder chase scene, stalking, like overall slasher movie vibes, 18+

pls ignore timestamps and possible typos lol part of this chapter is written pls read the written portions to understand the full story

wc: 1067

your leg bounced impatiently as you waited for sunghoon to arrive. his text about wanting to talk had you a bit anxious because it could’ve been about anything but your mind automatically went to the worst things possible. 

the feeling you had was one similar to when you were mustering up the courage to break up with him, which now with all of the things that have happened since then, feels like an eternity ago. you were very grateful to have sunghoon by your side throughout all of this, granted he was your ex, it’s comforting to know someone like sunghoon is there to console you. even protect you. 

that’s how he was as a boyfriend, and still is, very protective and caring over you. that’s what you had loved about him, his desire to be the one to shield you from the dangers of the world, make you feel safe when you’re with him, and be the one you can lean on. 

your break up wasn’t anything dramatic, it was a fight of minimal words and pent up emotions that overflowed into each other. you had noticed a shift in sunghoon’s behavior but it was most evident the night of the party, the same night wonyoung had been murdered. he was distant and cold, he rarely spoke to you that night but his hands clung onto your body like you would slip away at any second. you should’ve realized it sooner, the way he’d glare at jake whenever he’d enter the room, the silent way he’d scoff when jake would say something to you, how sunghoon never wanted to be around him. 

sunghoon did not like jake. 

and maybe jake didn’t like him either. 

sunghoon didn’t tell you why he was distant that night but it irked you even more when he would try to avoid having the conversation with you. like any normal couple, you just wanted to be able to talk it out and work through it like adults; but sunghoon didn’t want that. you had grown tired of his dimissive attitude to things, afraid of confrontation and inability to voice his worries, so you told him that you wouldn’t either. 

if he didn’t want to address the issue, then you wouldn’t give him anything to address at all. 

so you broke up with him, drank heavily for the next few hours and didn’t see him again that night. that was when karina and daniella decided that you had enough to drink and the three of you went home, eventually finding wonyoung’s body in your living room. 

a text from your phone snaps you out of the memories of that night as you lift your phone up to your face to see who it’s from. 

from: girl get up!! (sunghoon) 

i’m here

you gave him a thumbs up before making your way out to him, laughing to yourself and setting a mental note that you should probably change his name. 

when you walked outside, sunghoon was standing there, leaning on his car as he waited for you. “there you are” he says as he opens the door for you. you mutter a small thank you and he slightly nods his head in response. you watch sunghoon slightly jog to his side of the car and strap himself in. “so, what did you want to talk about?” you ask, still anxious at what this conversation could turn into. 

the atmosphere in his car was different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“right.. uhm.” he starts. 

“i know a lot has been happening these days and you’re going through a lot, and i’ll do anything to be there for you. i guess i just want to say that i want to start over and maybe try again? this probably isn’t the best time but i haven’t stopped loving you even until now, you’re always on my mind and i’d do anything for you. 

i just can’t stand not having you by my side and with everything going on, i don’t want to regret anything in this life and if i die knowing that i never properly fixed things between us then that’d be a life i regret living.. 

so, can we start over and try again?” sunghoon says the last part softly. his voice instantly soothing your worries as he continued to speak as you were relieved to know it wasn’t anything worth being nervous over. you were quite surprised that sunghoon was not only bringing this up but talking about how he felt. you knew that it was always hard for him to do that so you were proud of you. your heart swelled with love as you looked into his eyes, “i never stopped loving you either..” you responded and a smile spread onto sunghoon’s lips, the one where his eyes and nose would crinkle and his canines were on display. 

your favorite smile. 

you mimed his smile and just as sunghoon is about to pull you in for a kiss, his phone starts to ring. 

“way to kill the mood heeseung.” he says before answering. “whats up? i’m on my way back.” he says into the phone, his face instantly contorting into something of worry and despair as he listens to heeseung on the other end of the phone. 

“fuck, ok. we’ll be right there.” sunghoon ends the phone and is putting his car into gear as he speeds off. “what’s happening? is everything ok?” you ask, worry settling into your stomach as you look at sunghoon’s face. his jaw was clenched and as your eyes focused onto his, you could see he was fighting off tears. 

“the fucker attacked heeseung and jay after i left, heeseung said jay is hurt pretty badly.” sunghoon explained, causing your breathing to become eradic and heavy. it’s barely been a whole day since karina had been killed and the killer was already after another one of them. 

your mind was beginning to spiral and your vision was starting to blur but when sunghoon places his hand over yours and puts it into his, everything starts to come back to normal. like his touch alone was enough to provide solace. “i’m sorry, hoon. jay’s going to be fine, ok?” you said and all he does is give you a small smile. a sliver of hope in his eyes that what you were saying is true.

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detective's notes: park jongseong, aka jay, was attacked in his home alongside roommate, lee heeseung. both victims are alive with jay receiving the worst end of the attack. detective lee taeyong and i have presented as ourselves the main detectives on this case to the main circle. we've originally hid out identities to avoid being sought out but with the bodies piling up and attacks becoming more frequent, we thought it would be best to let them know that we're the detectives behind this case. the decelis killer is still at large and the case is still on going. signing off, detective bae irene.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

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copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[spaceyjessa]

Clone x OC Week Day 1 : Introduction

Pairings: Solé x Crosshair Rating: G / SFW Words: 1,092 Warnings: Order 66 Mention, brief mentions of grief, absolute second hand embarrassment (please my girl is a disaster I love her)

Synopsis: Solé is doing her best to adjust to life on Pabu, but after her life was turned upside down by Order 66, all she finds herself wanting is to go home to Naboo. Until she meets someone who might be even more out of place than she is.

@clonexocweek Thank you for hosting this event!

Pabu was few little pieces of the familiar wrapped up in a galaxy of unknowns. She had tried to adapt. Adaption was key. With enough work to keep her busy and on the verge of exhaustion she had found a way to accept the life happening around her. For better or worse. But she couldn’t shake the sense that it still wasn’t home. It wasn’t Naboo.

With foods she understood and soil that didn’t fight her every time she tried to grow a plant. Every simple thing she had taken for granted, every smell and sound and taste, was left behind on a world she didn’t recognize while she tried to pick up the pieces of her life. Solé shook the thoughts away as she strode into the marketplace. No, here is where I am. And that’s all there was too it. The marketplace was just as unfamiliar as the rest of Pabu, a breath of Naboo whispered by in the sunshine that fell along the stalls but the wares in them, the foods and trinkets, all refugees of another world left her feeling hollow. Her appetite had been growing thinner by the day and as someone who studied nutrition and food for a living she knew she would have to put her anxieties away and at least try to eat something.

She had been on Pabu for a few weeks, thrown by earthquakes, threatened by the Empire she was trying to escape, and finally a relative peace had settled. Solé wished her shaking hands and anxious heart would see it the same way. There were more refugees now. Like her, but not like her. Clones who had been betrayed by their leaders. By their own bodies. Shep had explained it all to her when she wasn’t able to face them, clued her into the truth of what had happened when he had brought some of them to her as patients.

Soldiers, battle weary and heavy, they seemed to adapt faster than her to the light buoyant atmosphere of the island or they would shuttle off to help the cause. The cause was something so vast that Solé had trouble really imagining it. A part of her ached for it. Ached for answers to what had happened. Esteemed senator dead, chancellor so different than he appeared, and the Jedi…her heart clenched and she thought of the brother she had known as a child. Such a bright eyed boy. The galaxy was a vacuum now sucking away anything familiar and leaving her…here.

It was silly really, but Solé could almost feel it was the Force that made her look up towards that one particular stall. A slender man was standing very still in front of the stall that was selling some sort of fruit that looked deceptively familiar to her homesick heart. The man was standing with stiff shoulders, scarring on one side of his head, and though he wasn’t as sturdily built as the others she could guess right away from his military bearing that he was a clone. He was looking between the fruits, a scowl deepening the lines around his mouth and brows knit together. He picked one up with his left hand, examined it, put it back.

He looked as out of his depth as she felt on that particular afternoon. “Do you need a hand?” Solé approached on instinct, it wasn’t her way not to help someone especially if it had anything to do with food. He didn’t respond at first until Solé sidled up next to him, repeating her question.

The man turned to face her fully and a fierce blush colored her fair skin.

Hand.

He only had one. Her earlier words ricocheted around in her head like a stampeding Shaak. One eyebrow raised and his brown eyes were full of caution, if not down right irritation. Solé did what she always did during confrontation or embarrassment. She made it worse.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean a hand in that sense—I meant do you need any help? Not that I don’t believe that you’re capable of helping yourself because of your disability—“ She was willing herself to just stop talking, she really was. Whatever other gibberish passed out of her mouth was put to a mercifully abrupt stop.

“Crosshair! Did you get everything?” A young blonde girl, bounded up to him and when his attention turned Solé took it as the opportunity that it was.

She wouldn’t necessarily say she ran from the situation, but she was at her little base — she couldn’t call it home — with her back firmly pressed against the closed front door, cheeks still burning from embarrassment before the pair had been able to turn back to her. Angry tears stung the corner of her eyes and she rested her closed fist against her forehead before running the thin braid she kept in her hair between her fingers. She tried to summon up some Jedi saying, something her mother had always whispered to her in times of distress to remind her of her brother, and came up short. All she could do was resign herself to a dinner of leftovers from the conservator and try to forget today had ever happened.

By the time Solé woke up the next morning the sting of embarrassment had lessened, at least partially. She had repeated the scene in her mind enough times, assured herself that it was a perfectly understandable accident and vowed never to make eye contact with that man again. Everything was fine.

After brewing a pot of caf, pouring the hot water from her kettle slowly over the ground beans and admiring the rich scent that reminded her of a thousand late nights and early mornings, she went outside. The sun was bright and she vaguely wondered if she had overslept again when her foot hit something on her tiny garden path.

A bag.

A bag full to the brim of yellow fruits with dimpled skin. Solé stooped and spied a note tucked into one side. She drew out the piece of flimsi and unfolded it as best she could with one hand as she took a sip of the still too hot caf.

‘Looks like you were the one who needed a hand. Ironic.’ Solé’s face burned even redder than it had the day before, but this time there was a smile too.

Author's Note: I'm so excited to be posting things for Solé finally! I've been developing her as a character since November and getting to share her is so exciting! Hope you enjoyed reading their first meeting <3

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - four mafia! charles leclerc x wife! reader ( ??? ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

The atmosphere in the grand hallway was thick with tension, but you focused on Charles, straightening his tie with steady hands. You tugged gently at the lapels of his suit, smoothing out invisible creases, your eyes scanning him with quiet scrutiny. He looked every bit the part—powerful, composed, untouchable. But you knew him well enough to see the subtle weight pressing on his shoulders.

“You’re going to do fine,” you murmured, fixing a stray curl in his hair before letting your fingers trail down to his collar. “No one in that room holds more power than you.”

Charles huffed a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly as he watched you. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you said simply, eyes flickering up to meet his. “You’re Charles Leclerc. Your name alone commands respect.”

His gaze softened, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you just a fraction closer. “You always know what to say to me, ma chérie.”

You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he could get too sentimental. Charles, of course, was never one to settle for half-measures. Before you could pull away, he caught your chin between his fingers and kissed you properly—slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to make his point.

When he pulled back, his lips barely brushed against yours as he murmured, “Stay close to me in there.”

You nodded, and with that, Charles pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the grand meeting hall where Europe’s most powerful crime families were gathered.

The room was a spectacle of wealth—tailored suits, glittering jewelry, designer watches. Wives sat beside their husbands like living trophies, diamonds cascading down their throats. Every glance, every movement, every unspoken word was a statement of power.

The two Leclercs stood tall, unshaken by the silent battle of status being waged around them.

And then, he arrived.

Max Verstappen entered the room like he owned it, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a single word. He was dressed simply, no excessive displays of wealth, but somehow, that made him stand out more. He didn’t need to flaunt anything—his reputation did it for him.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as his sharp gaze swept across the room before settling, for the briefest moment, on you.

Then, he spoke.

“Apologies for the . . . inconvenience,” Max started, his voice smooth, practiced. “But Belgium had to be taken. It was necessary.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. “If anyone has a problem with that, now’s the time to speak.”

Silence.

No one moved. No one dared.

Because they all knew the truth—Max Verstappen wasn’t just powerful. He was dangerous. Crossing him was a death sentence.

And as much as you wanted to look away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, beneath it all, his message wasn’t just for the room.

It was for you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment you stepped outside the meeting hall, the air felt lighter—free from the thick tension and unspoken threats lingering within. You exhaled, rolling your shoulders back as you approached the water dispenser, filling a glass with slow, deliberate movements.

A moment. That was all you needed.

But a moment was all it took.

You sensed him before you saw him. A shadow in your periphery, a presence too familiar, too heavy to ignore.

“Thirsty?”

The voice sent a chill down your spine, not from fear, but from something far more complicated.

You didn’t turn immediately, instead taking a slow sip, letting the cool water settle before acknowledging him. “Is that a crime now, Verstappen?”

Max chuckled, stepping closer—too close. “No,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “But some things are.”

You finally met his gaze, and it was a mistake.

Because he was looking at you like that. Like he used to. Like he still saw you as his, like he still believed you should be.

“You’ve been talking to Victoria,” he murmured, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face. “I appreciate that, you know. Not many people would bother.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass. “She’s my friend, Max.”

“I remember,” he said softly, and for a moment, just a fraction of a second, something unguarded flickered in his expression. “I remember everything.”

His hand lifted before you could stop him, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You stiffened.

He noticed.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, he let his fingers trail lower, his knuckles grazing your jaw before he held your chin—so gently, so carefully, as if he was afraid you’d break beneath his touch.

There was no malice in his gaze, no roughness, no anger. Just something far more dangerous.

“I could give you a place,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t belong with him, schatje.”

Your breath hitched at the old nickname, and Max caught it.

He always caught everything.

“I know why you married him,” he continued, his grip still featherlight against your skin. “I know it wasn’t your choice.” His thumb ghosted over your chin, his touch achingly soft. “But this? Us? That was.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steel your nerves. “There is no us anymore.”

Max smiled then, but it wasn’t a happy one. “There could be.”

Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs.

He leaned in just slightly, just enough for his next words to ghost against your skin. “Come back to me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

“Come back,” he repeated, voice smooth as silk. “Take your place with me. Where you should’ve been all along.”

You tried to step back, but his hand at your chin kept you still—still gentle, still careful, but firm enough to remind you of the power he held.

“You think he can keep you safe?” Max’s head tilted, amusement flickering in his expression. “You think he can stop me?”

Your fingers curled at your sides, nails pressing into your palms.

Max didn’t miss it. His smirk returned, amused. “I’ll take Monaco,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather. “You know I will. And after that?” He paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the final blow. “And then I’ll take Italy.” His thumb pressed lightly against your jaw. “And when I do, lieverd, there won’t be anything left for him to protect.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

“I’ll give you one chance,” he continued, his voice almost too soft. “Make the right choice.”

Your breath felt too shallow, too quick. “I need to get back.”

Max didn’t stop you. He simply released your chin, his fingers lingering for just a second longer before dropping to his side.

You turned sharply, gripping the glass so tightly it might have cracked.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

But you felt his eyes on you the entire way back.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The meeting had finally drawn to a close, the grand hall emptying as the various mafia heads and their entourages filtered out into the cold Monaco night. The tension still clung to the air, thick and unspoken, but for now, it was over.

You let out a slow breath, shaking off the weight of it as you turned to Kika, offering a small smile. “See you soon?”

Kika, ever warm and effortless, pulled you into a hug, her perfume light and floral as she squeezed you briefly. “Definitely. Text me, okay?”

You nodded, stepping back as Pierre gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his hand resting on the small of Kika’s back as they left.

Charles stood beside you, his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully neutral until they were out of earshot. Then, with a scoff, he rolled his eyes.

“Some New Year’s gathering,” he muttered, the irritation clear in his voice.

You huffed out a laugh, watching as he strode forward and opened the car door for you, the deep red of the Ferrari gleaming under the soft streetlights.

Before you could slip inside, something pulled at the edge of your awareness. A feeling.

Your gaze drifted instinctively across the lot.

And there he was.

Max stood near his own car, a sleek Honda NSX, his posture almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he should leave just yet. His hands flexed slightly by his sides, but his sharp blue eyes were locked onto you, unreadable in the dim light.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, as if deciding against whatever thought had crossed his mind, Max tore his gaze away, slipping into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. The low hum of the engine echoed through the parking lot as he pulled away, disappearing into the night.

You swallowed, turning back to Charles, who was already watching you with narrowed eyes.

“Let’s go,” you murmured, stepping into the car.

Charles said nothing, but as he shut the door behind you and rounded the front of the Ferrari, you could feel the shift in the air between you.

He had seen.

And he had questions.

[pierrotwrites-hc]

part III ch3 sneak peak

Doran was a badger. 

At least that’s what Connell’s mother Reenie had said. Doran had protested: surely Connell, who regularly dug up grubs, was more like a badger than he was. (Yes, Connell dug up grubs to draw rather than to eat, but still. The point stood.)

“My Connell is a quail,” said Reenie decidedly. “He blends in when he needs to and he knows how to take care of himself. You, my lad, are a badger. Tough, clever, stubborn as anything. Hardy, too. When the weather changes, you’re the first to adapt.”

Even as a child, Doran had known Reenie wasn’t just talking about the kind of weather that spun the metal rooster on the barn roof. The Duke’s estate had its own climate, a complex system of currents and atmospheric conditions which produced storms no less intense than the ones outside. Doran often found himself caught in the crosswinds. He knew, without anyone having to tell him, that this was because the Duke loved his mother, and Lady Amelia hated her.

(The Duke told Doran’s mother he loved her, anyway. He said the same thing to his horse, and with much the same tone of voice.)

Now, a dozen years later and hundreds of miles from home, Doran had new reason to appreciate his badger-like adaptability. He’d found a nice little place for himself among the soldiers at Redditch, and there was no reason he couldn’t do the same at Guye. 

From what Doran had seen so far, Robert Black’s encampment outside Castle Guye was like and unlike the garrison at Redditch. It was full of soldiers, obviously, and soldiers were more or less the same wherever you went, but these soldiers were unusual (in Doran’s experience, at least) because observed no strict hierarchy between themselves. Once Doran got over the shock, he found this arrangement quite suited him. He had as little patience for hierarchy as a freedman as he had when he was a slave. 

And thank the gods for that. He’d feared the opposite might be true—that he might turn into one of those men hated by everyone, who shun the class they come from even as they’re kicked at by the class they want to join. A man like Hector Balkas.

Doran tried not to think about Balkas. It made his back itch. His back and his fists.

Anyway, there was no need to think about Balkas. Doran had been one to look back over his shoulder; he certainly wasn’t going to start now. Not when there was so much behind him he’d like to forget. 

That smarmy prick Robert Black had ordered him to find an occupation. Well, Doran planned to do exactly that.

The smithy seemed the obvious place to start. Doran had a strong arm and no fear of open flame, which were, as he understood it, the basic requirements for forge-work. He’d always fancied himself as a blacksmith, or maybe even a farrier. He liked horses well enough, and the leather aprons the smiths wore. Besides, he had a vague idea there was money in it. 

Money, now, that was something to be thinking about now he was free. Annie would be waiting for him on the other side of this war, and he wasn’t about to make her a pauper’s bride. She deserved better than that.

Building had started on the smithy on the moor at the same time as the privies were being dug, and while it was nothing to the mighty forge at Redditch, it was still in better nick than the rest of the camp. The crackling fire cast a ring of light and warmth that defied the gloom of the moor. In the glow, Doran saw a familiar figure straighten, hammer in one huge hand.

“Finn?”

“Doran! By the gods, it’s good to see you.”

Finn pulled Doran to his great chest and gave him a bone-cracking squeeze. 

“I see you lost the chain,” said Doran, when Finn released him. “The collar, too.”

“Mislaid it at Redditch,” said Finn cheerfully. He gestured at Doran’s bare neck. “I see you’re short a bit of metal, too.”

“Me and Connell both.” Before Finn could ask about Luca, Doran rushed on, “Tell me what happened at Redditch.”

It was the right question to ask: the garrison’s fall was still blazingly clear in Finn’s mind, and his description was absorbing enough to distract both of them from Luca. Doran hadn’t thought he had any sentimental feelings for Redditch, but hearing about the gates going up in a hail of flame and cinder gave him a funny feeling in his chest. Still, he was cheered to hear that Davies was dead. 

“The forgemaster, too,” said Finn. “Smoke poisoning, of all things.” He shook his head in disgust. “Ah, well, at least he’s gone. Gods forgive me, Doran, but it’s a better world for him being out of it.”

Doran agreed. As far as he was concerned, there were still far too many men like the forgemaster left in the world, and smoke poisoning was far too kind a fate for any of them.

Unfortunately, at this point Finn turned to far less interesting topic, namely the valor, gallantry, and general heroism of Robert Black. 

“He came out of the fire with his sword flashing, like something out of a legend. Rallied the men with a word. They say Roland had Melchior’s blood, but I never believed it til I saw Black in action. He’s a commander, all right. The real thing, not a pretender like Davies and Balkas.”

Doran must’ve winced. Finn gave him a sympathetic look.

“No fond feelings for your old master, eh? I don’t blame you. Balkas was a brute. I’ll never forget that whipping. No wonder Luca was passing the bastard’s secrets on to Black.”

“You knew?” 

“Yeah, he told me,” said Finn, shrugging. “Needed me to make him a contraption to smuggle information out of Breakwater. And here, listen to this—turns out my daughter joined up with the rebels! She’s alive, Doran, can you believe it?”

“That’s fantastic,” said Doran, his mind still on Luca. “Is she here at Guye?”

“Black left her with friends in the Midlands. A gentleman by the name of Fourteys. He’s got an daughter Wilma’s age. Good people, Black says. They won’t treat my girl like a drudge. And Black wrote to tell Fourteys about me, so he can tell my Wilma that papa is coming for her just as soon as he can.” 

Finn had gone wet around the eyes. Doran pretended not to notice, to spare the big man his dignity. 

As Finn pulled himself together, Doran thought back on what he’d just learned. Finn had known Luca was a spy. Toby knowing was bad enough, but at least Toby had figured it out himself. Luca had actually told Finn. Luca never told anyone anything about himself if he could help it. Connell said they shouldn’t pry; Luca would share when he was ready. And he had shared—a little, anyway—and even if most of it was fucking horrifying, Doran was still grateful to hear it. He knew it wasn’t easy for Luca to tell. That made sense, Doran supposed. If he’d been stripped down as often as Luca, maybe he would’ve clung to his secrets, too. Maybe it made him feel a little less naked, knowing there parts of him the men would never see.

So, fine, let Luca keep his secrets. He’d a right to them. But to trust one of the biggest to Finn! Finn was a nice bloke, but he was a fucking stranger compared to Doran. Hell, Luca one of Doran’s closest friends. He’d thought Luca felt the same.

Maybe he’d thought wrong.

“Twinge in my head,” said Doran, seeing Finn’s questioning look. “Anyone else we know come to Guye from Redditch?” 

Finn rattled off a few names, mostly free laborers or freed forgeworkers. “And Mal Fergus, of course. Never one to pass up an opportunity, eh? His brother’s here too. Ned. Joined the rebels at Absalom. Nice as anything, Ned is, and honest as they come. Dunno how Mal came out so crooked and his brother so straight, but that’s family for you.”

Doran thought of Toby and winced again. No mystery as to which of them was the crooked one.

He’d been wondering how to ask Finn about apprenticing at the forge—as a slave he’d always just been assigned work; he had no idea how to go about asking for it—but luckily Finn gave him the perfect opening. They’d set up Redditch as a sort of arms factory for the Midlands, and most of the smiths had been left behind to run it; they were badly undermanned here at Guye. Oh, no doubt the Dogs of Guye had their own smiths, but Finn wasn’t keen on the chances of peaceful collaboration, not after all the trouble over Luca when they arrived.

Here Finn broke off, and Doran could tell he was about to ask if Doran had heard anything about Luca. To cut him off, Doran blurted out his plan (stupid, now he heard himself stammering it aloud) to train as a blacksmith, or maybe a farrier—something along those lines, anyway, and might there be a place for him at the forge?

To Doran’s relief, Finn responded so enthusiastically it was clear that help was badly needed indeed. 

“You won’t be at an anvil right away, mind,” Finn warned him. “It’ll be fetch and carry work, cleaning tools and the like, but you’ll learn as you go, and the lads’ll be glad of the help.”

Fetch and carry work sounded unpleasantly like what Doran had done as Balkas’s drudge, but he supposed even free men had to start somewhere. 

Mal Fergus wasn’t hard to find. He’d found a plum spot to pitch his tent and was dealing out a hand from his “lucky” (for which read “rigged”) deck of cards to a group of soldiers. They were a mixed lot, three Solasans and an Enkaaran, plus a Guyish-looking fellow chewing a birch twig. All watched Fergus deal with the keen avidity of seasoned gamblers.

Fergus, of course, looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. That was his real gift, Doran thought, even more than quick hands and a devious mind: the ability to appear totally plausible even as he was swindling a group of heavily-armed men. 

As Doran approached the table, a boy stepped out from behind the table to block his path. He looked barely old enough to have left home.

“We’ve got a full table,” he said, crossing his arms.

At this, Fergus looked up to see Doran and broke into a broad grin.

“Doran, as I live and breathe! Fellows, excuse me a moment. My lieutenant here will take over.”

“You set up your new operation fast,” said Doran once he and Fergus were out of earshot. (He bit back the sir just in time.) “Got a new flunky and everything. Did you ditch Carnaby and Graeme at Redditch?”

“I buried them at Redditch.”

Fergus said this so casually that Doran gave him a sharp look. But he wasn’t joking. He wore his usual mild, mocking expression, but his jaw was tight, his eyes remote.

“They died when Black’s men took the garrison?” Doran asked.

“They were Black’s men by then. I recruited them. Maybe if I hadn’t, they wouldn’t’ve been killed by their own barracks-mates.” He tried to smile. “Well, here we are. Out of the ashes and all that. Are you happy to see me?”

“Delighted.”

Now it was Fergus’s turn to give Doran a sharp look.

“Still haven’t forgiven me for cutting you off, eh?”

“I know that was Mouse’s doing.”

“Yeah, but your Mouse is hard to hold a grudge against. Especially now.”

Doran forced himself to shrug. A tense, effortful gesture. Like shouldering a stone.

“Anyway,” he said, “I figure you owe me a drink, s—Fergus. Now I’m a free man and all.”

Fergus laughed.

“That’s right! I promised to take you out on the town, didn’t I?” 

“And rent us a pretty girl.”

“Too bad there’s none of those around. Nancy and the rest stayed back in the Midlands.”

“Good,” said Doran, with a vehemence that took both of them aback. He cleared his throat. “You’ve set up quite the a nice little operation here, s—Fergus. Not worried about Black bringing the hammer down?”

“Ah, well. The thing about Black is, he wants everyone to get along. And cards, they’re the great unifier. A common language, see? Solasans, Enkaarans, Northmen—we all speak aces and spades.”

Doran was about to retort when his gaze was caught by a passerby. Words fled.

It was the young man from Black’s tent, of course, the one with the honey-colored eyes and scar on his cheek. He moved lightly, in long strides, like a stalking cat. His clothes hung well on him; Doran could imagine the tapered waist and lean, muscled thighs beneath the fabric.

He was brought back to earth by Fergus jabbing a sharp finger into his ribs.

“Better watch that roving eye of yours, Doran. That lad’s not on the market.”

“He’s got a lover?”

“A protector, anyway.” 

“How protective of a protector?”

“Put it this way: I’d rather steal a boy from the King’s seray than try to chat up Robert Black’s adoptive brother.”

Oh, fields of hell. Doran was beginning to think that Robert Black had been sent by the gods to thwart him. 

“They’re that close, eh?” said Doran weakly.

“I hear Tam Tregeryth himself wanted to court the lad, but when he went to Black for permission, Black threatened to cut off his head and post it on a pike. He’d do it, too. Gods know he’s ruthless enough. And you must’ve seen that barbarian bodyguard of his. Inseparable, the two of them. Anyway, after that, Black put the word out: Asher Lacey is strictly off-limits.”

“You’re well-informed,” said Doran, trying not to sound bitter. “Been collecting gossip like a fishwife, have you?” 

“I keep my ears open, that’s all.”

“You hear anything about Lord Tobias?”

“Balkas’s shitty little squire?” said Fergus, surprised. “Yeah, he’s up at the Castle. Best-treated prisoner in the kingdom, from what I hear.” He eyed the healing bruises on Doran’s cheek and temple. “A fair sight better than the Dogs treated you, I don’t doubt.”

“They had their reasons,” said Doran. He couldn’t explain without telling Fergus what had happened with Luca, and he’d rather have Robert Black’s bodyguard cut off his head and post it on a pike. 

“Well, if you’re keen on revenge, we’ve had more than a few Northmen sneak out to the moor for a bit of action,” said Fergus. “Would be nice to have a strapping fellow like yourself around to keep an eye on things, like you did at Redditch.”

By keep an eye on things Doran knew Fergus meant stand between me and the pissed-off fellow waving a knife. Doran hadn’t minded when the fellow in question was Solasan: their soldiers were generally willing to let themselves be talked down from a fight, especially if there was a bribe in the offing. But the weeks Doran and Connell had spent as the low men in the Dogs’ hierarchy hadn’t exactly left him impressed with their restraint. And the Enkaarans were a totally unknown quantity.

Seeing his hesitation, Fergus said, “At Redditch, you wanted a free man’s cut. You’re worth more than that to me now, especially with Graeme and Carnaby gone. What d’you say to ten percent of the winnings?”

“Call it twenty, if I’m worth that much to you.”

“Cut the difference at fifteen and I’ll shake your hand, freedman.”

Doran hesitated. Could he get more if he pushed? 

But he was tired of pushing. Whatever fight was left in him after that nightmare journey through the Wychwood had been leached away in the cold void of the pit. Besides, knowing what Fergus took in from the punters at Redditch, fifteen percent was nothing to sneeze at.

As they shook hands, Doran thought of Robert Black ordering him to find an occupation. Well, hark at him now: two occupations before noon, and hardly any work at all to get.

How’s that for earning my supper? he thought triumphantly.