#it's been long enough that i think i can add these tags now without it hitting the top of the tag as a 'hate tag'

[dalniente]

"Zira" "Azi" "Az" SIGHHHHHH

is anybody else irritated at the widespread fandom nicknaming of Aziraphale and fucking nobody else? is that just me? because it really feels like a "oooh [wince-hisses through teeth], no, that's too long and weird. that's too hard. i'm gonna call you This instead" situation, and i do not care for it. it pissed me off when i was writing good omens fanfic thirteen years ago and it pisses me off now. you care enough about everyone else to get their names right, all the unusual demon and angel monikers, but oh no, Aziraphale, oh that's ten whole letters, that's way too long. oh you're not gonna bother to type all that, no, his name is just Zira now.

and like, he's not real, so this super duper does not matter and isn't deeply and incredibly shitty the way it is when it's directed at real people. but it still rubs me the wrong way every time i see it. that's not his name! why is his name not good enough for you to take the time to type out the way you do for everyone else! ugh.

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 5)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader, mentions of death/dying, cursing

taglist: @fknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams @babygirl-panda19 @picnicinthegarden @96jnie @xxfaithlynxx @wrimaira @reni502 @lazypostfandomer @augustdxjiminx @hey-airam @vevlvtcherie @marquitas-en-verano @ma-cherie-lovely @zeskyzed @imnikki @shiorihoshino @mentaltrouble2201 @sylustoru @imaginarytheatre @seris-the-amious @zoyadarling @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream @young-adult-summer @iamawkwardandshy @r0ckb1n @openthenyoor01 @malleus-draconias-rose @syyyy4ever @yutterfly @xsammijoanneex @reni502 @animegamerfox @hao-ming-8 @angelicspaceprince @codedove @bxtchopolis @nommingonfood @esylwen @phisen @gojosbedwarmer @rubyninja1 @lemonn015 @cordidy @blueesmiski @yunhogrippers @sleepykittenenergy @thatsbunnysmind @lumi-s-garlic @splaterparty0-0 @soulaandshere @sillyfeeakfanparty (OMG I CAN'T TAG ANYMORE HELP)

note: one last part next. and a big thank you to the love on this series. y'all make me wanna cryyyyy 🥹🥹🥹

Masterlist

Sylus eyes flickered over the screen scanning every area in N109 Zone’s security cameras hoping in one of them he'll see you but for some reasons he can't.

The frustration is slowly creeping to his skin. He doesn't like the obvious fact that you left him with no explanation, that he is too late. That it took him long enough before giving you the assurance that you needed.

But most of all, he didn't like it that he inflicted such an amount of pain on you that you had to leave him quietly.

For every moment that passes without any news of you, Sylus can feel the anxiousness in him double in numbers. He won't stay still. He needs to find you now.

He grabbed his jacket and was about to get his keys when he heard footsteps approaching his directions.

He hoped that it was you. That you decided to finally come back and maybe hear him out. He quickened his steps but when he saw the red link on his wrists glowing, immediate disappointment consumed him.

“Sylus, I kept calling you but I was sent straight to voicemail," she said with a pout.

“MC, now is not a good time. Please take your leave." he coldly said.

It made her frown and he knew that she's not used to him saying no to her. But it had to be done. He didn't define a proper boundary before and now his life is a mess so even if it's late, he will do his best to straighten up his act.

Maybe if he did this the heavens would smile at him and make you go back to him.

“MC? I thought I'm Miss Hunter? Or Kitten? What happened? Did Mephisto throw that away by the window?"

He just stood there unmoving. Hearing her say that is an additional punch to the gut. Sylus didn't hide anything from you including this. And even if he can't control what he feels, he should've taken control of the things he says.

It's not right to call her those pet names when you exists and it must've been hell for you to hear that rolling off his tongue so naturally.

"I said leave.” he finally managed to get a word out of his mouth.

“Why? I thought we were spending time together to establish our connections? For us to get synced when using our evols?” She inquired with an obvious irritation in her face.

If it were before he lost you, he might have laughed and teased her about it and will add a little bit of sass to rile her up more.

But now? All he can think about is how insensitive he is. An asshole even.

No wonder she left.

No. He can't think like that. He needs you back and he will do everything to see you tonight.

Sylus took a deep breath. He can feel his brows twitching. Every second wasted here is a risk for your safety and what if you come back and see her? What would you think?

He doesn't know exactly why you left but he is not stupid to not know that it has something to do with Miss Hunter.

“I don't want to have any connections with you," Sylus answered.

“What do you mean?"

“See this link?" He asked and showed her his wrist.

“Yes. That connects us, right? You, me, grew from the same soil, kindred spirits like you said." She recounted their previous conversations.

“Good. Now I want us to get rid of it. I want you to get rid of it."

Sylus can see the gears in her head turning at every word he says. He knows he's asking for too much. She doesn't even remember cursing him but Sylus is desperate. He needs to find you and he needs this connection to finally be broken.

He can live without half his soul. He's been doing that for a while now, but he cannot live without you.

"Are you out of your mind?” She exclaimed, "I don't even know how we got tied together and now you want me to break it?”

Sylus is losing hope. He doesn't want her to remember. What's the point? It will hurt her, it will make all of this complicated … but he also needs to break free from this curse.

He will make this conversation quick. He needs to get this out of the way.

“Y/N is missing," he said. “She left me and I know it's because of my own stupidity, but it also has something to do with this bond, MC."

“I-I don't understand,"

“I will explain, but not now.” Sylus met her gaze making sure she understands every word he says, "A lot has happened in the past and it had something to do with a curse that binds me to you in every life we live. And you know what's the worst part? We're always doomed. We don't get to be really happy. I always end up dead and you end up killing me … grieving me.”

Recalling it all, it leaves a bitter taste in his tongue. Always cursed to die, to suffer. To love her but always end up dead. It drained him of hope, of joy, of life.

"It made me who I am today because of all those experiences. Living day to day just to wait for the time that I'll die. But that changed here. It changed because of Y/N. I get to experience the things that I thought I was desensitized of. She made me hope that I can break free of this cycle.”

Sylus held her hand. Begging.

“So please, think of it. Help me find a way to break this cycle."

With a single tear and a shaky voice he begged. “Please let me go."

"Let me go!” You screamed and tried to kick Luke and Kieran. "Get off me!”

"No can do, Madame. You need to go home. Boss Man is going crazy looking for you.” Kieran said. "He's flipping the base inside out just to find you.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ah so he does remember I exist? I was so close to being free and you just have to drag me back."

Indeed, you're so close to leaving the N109 Zone. Just one step and you're out of their radar but just before you can run, Mephisto’s blocking your way followed by Luke and Kieran.

“I know you've been having a hard time lately and the boss is really at fault. But come home for now. It's dangerous out here. He has a lot of enemies and they won't hesitate to use you to their advantage.” Luke said. “Plus, he has alerted everyone of his trusted alliances and the whole base to guard every entrance and exit in N109 Zone. Even if you manage to step outside you'll be dragged back home.”

“Fine. I guess I have no choice." All that running and hiding just to come back to base and it's not because you want to, but because you can't. You're sure that the moment you run, Mephisto is already tailing you and alerting everyone. Plus, you can't really outrun a bird.

“If you really want to leave, and you have enough reasons, Boss is not heartless enough to cage you. I know that you know it very well." Kieran said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You didn't give him an answer. You just walked with them to their car and closed your eyes. You can hear the twins updating Sylus that you're with them.

Right … Once you get home, you have no choice but to face the inevitable. You planned to just leave him be and let him live his life with Miss Hunter, but he just has to find you when you don't want to be found.

You're too busy thinking of every possibile thing that you'll say to Sylus and didn't notice the time it took before the car stopped in front of his home. Luke and Kieran left you saying something about giving you privacy. You can't really tell. You're not paying much attention.

Just as you were stepping down from the car, you saw Miss Hunter. Anger bubbled in your chest. You're here being dragged back home with the thought that he's looking for you because he cares but then you're gonna see her here?

You were about to march back to the car when you saw the state that Miss Hunter is in. Her eyes are puffy and red. Looked like she cried. Once she saw you, she avoided your gaze and muttered a brief “I'm sorry," and left.

It was weird. What's happening?

Behind her you saw Sylus running for his life. Immediately, you thought that he's running after her. That's the natural order of things right?

“You're back, you're really back." His hard body slammed yours and you were engulfed in a tight hug. You can feel his erratic heartbeat and his shaking hands that cradle the back of your head.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?"

You looked at him. Your heart is splitting in two.

This is your Sylus. This is the Sylus you loved. The one who only looks at you. The one that loves you.

He's back.

But why now? Why now when you decided that you're done? You tear your gaze away from him.

“Sweetie, please say something." He begged, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him.

“I know I have not been a good boyfriend, but please hear me out, okay?” His voice breaks as he talks to you. You can hear fear, desperation and sadness in them. “I love you, I really do and I'm choosing you. I'm choosing us —”

A hiccup escaped from your lips. Since when did you start sobbing? You didn't know. But your tears are free flowing now. All the hurt that you kept hidden is now out in the open.

“But you left. You left me. You chose her. You always choose her." you said. Like a kid who lost her precious toy, you cried and hit Sylus's chest. “I know everything. You don't have to lie. Sweet Evil Trap, huh? Half of your soul? I know that. I read them in your journal."

“How can you tell me you love me when you have her? You were waiting for her. Not just once but in every lifetime." You sobbed as he pulled you to a hug. He didn't say a word. He just let you pour your heart out.

“All I wanted was one dinner with you. A time for just the two of us, but you're so ready to ditch me because she called. A-and I realized that no matter what you say, that no matter how much you tell me you love me, I can't really compete with her because you don't love me as much as her."

You tried to pull away from him but he just held you closer.

"That's not true, no, no, I love you. No one else. It's just complicated, darling. We have this bond —”

You snapped and pushed him away.

"That stupid bond again! How many times do I have to hear that? How many times do I have to be slapped by the fact that I do not have any connection with you? That you need to discard me as soon as possible to be with your soulmate!?”

He grabbed your wrist when you tried to walk away. “Listen to me first! Yes, there's a bond connecting us but I want it gone! AND IT'S NOT A FUCKING SOULMATE BOND IT'S A CURSE!"

He raised his voice at you and that made you shut up. He never yells at you. This is the first time. And you expect anger to fill his eyes but it's pure sadness and pleading that you give him a chance to tell his truth.

“Sylus,"

“It's a curse, alright? She cursed me to always have my soul tied to her. Yes we did have a past, it was beautifully tragic. She had to kill me. I had her kill me so I could save her. But it gets tiring over time. It gets tiring to always live just to die. I relived that life multiple times and I was not happy anymore.”

You see his tears flowing now. You want to wipe them away but you're stoned in place still trying to process what he said. So when he kissed your hand, you didn't pull away. You saw that it gave him a little relief so you let him continue.

“And then you came. You came and changed everything. For once, I wanted to be happy again. To be selfish again. To live for as long as I can just to be with you. I may have been a fool as of late, but that's the life that I was accustomed to.”

"Once she's here, I know it's a matter of time for me to die and I willingly throw myself in there. Because that's the fate I have to live. And this bond? This energy linkage makes sure that I hurt every time I try to defy my fate. But because of you, for once I have the desire to take control of my life again.”

You cannot stop crying now hearing all of that. He wipes your tears with his thumb and planted kisses on your temple. You mustered the courage to reach for his face and wipe the wetness off his cheeks. He leaned in to your touch savoring every moment.

“I talked to MC, I asked her to help me break the curse she bestowed upon me." He said kissing your palm. “I'm choosing you, sweetie. I'm choosing this life. So please, please let me make it up to you?"

You take a deep breath. You have decided.

"I love you. So, so much,” you gave him a quick kiss. "And thank you for choosing to live your life as your own.”

His hold on your hand tightens, "Baby, please.”

"But I still need to leave.” New waves of tears flowed from the both of you. "I know that you're telling me the truth and you're genuine, but the problem here is not just in your situation with MC but with the conflict on myself as well.”

"Sylus, I'm insecure and I'm having a hard time accepting that you're choosing me. In my head you're saying this because you're guilty. Because you're a good person and you can't bear to see me hurting so you're sacrificing your own happiness just to cater to me.” you said.

“Do you see the point I'm making? I acknowledge your bravery for choosing us, for choosing your happiness, but I also have to make this decision, Sylus. The hurt I felt won't be mended and healed just because you told me all of that. So I need to go away for some time. To heal, and find it in myself to trust you without any speck of doubt. You get me right? If I don't do this, I will just end up hurting you more because I am broken.”

“I need time, Sylus. Time to process and heal. And if by the time we see each other again and you're still feeling the same thing and I am as well, then maybe we'll go from there."

It was hard for Sylus but he knows that you need this. That you both need this. So despite not liking the idea of you leaving and the fear of the possibility that you won't be back, he nods his head. It was his own fault that you're thinking that way. He broke you and mere words are not enough to mend your heart.

He will live his life as his own. He will hope that you will keep him in your heart because he is sure that he won't be able to find anyone to love aside from you.

“I understand, darling." he replied, “I am so sorry for putting you through that, but please know that I love you and if ever you find it in your heart to come back to me, you know where to find me."

That same night, you packed your bags and left the N109 Zone. Sylus took you to Linkon. He remembered looking at your back as you walked away. Your shoulders obviously shaking as you cry.

That night was the night that Sylus felt the loneliest he has ever been. That night, Sylus wished that you'll find happiness and come back to him.

But if you don't?

Then he'll just be content and happy that even for a brief time it felt like he truly lived again.

OMG last part? Hmm Yes, No, Maybe so?

Reactions, reblogs and comments are welcome please let me hear them. Thank youuuu

[arpicityandneed]

For the Dark Content Ask Game, maybe Free Use with WinterSoldier!Bucky? 👀

a/n: I like the way you think, had to really reign myself in so I hope you like it anyway ♡

18+ f!reader. Winter Soldier!Bucky. Dubcon cause HYDRA. Free use. Creampie.

You'd been in the kitchen of the safehouse, dressed only in one of the shirts he'd stolen from town for you, when he bent you over. He'd rarely bother with clothes unless he needed to leave the house-which meant his naked and very aroused body was pressed against yours.

"Again?" You laughed. Ever since the two of you had escaped HYDRA's clutches over two months ago (careless handler who underestimated how much James would do to protect you, the sweet thing they'd kidnapped and made his keeper of sorts) he'd been slowly learning to admit how much he craved touch.

"Need you," he grunted as he pressed you flat against the counter, his leaking tip pressing into your folds.

You were still slick from his last load as he pushed forward into your tight heat.

"You saved me, you can have me whenever you want." You panted, telling him the same thing you did the first time you caught him staring at you too long.

"Mine." He growled against your ear, his hips slapping against yours giving you no time to adjust or breathe as you moaned. In a short time he'd learned your body well. He knew how to play with your clit just hard enough to make you cum without making you scream too loud, how to fuck you just hard enough that your eyes crossed, how to make you cream on him with a few purred words in Russian.

"All- fuck, all yours!" You cried out as you got close, your body so sensitive from all the attention you'd been getting. At this point you could feel every inch of his thick cock as it stretch you open. The way he throbbed inside you with every thrust like he couldn't wait to add to the mess in your pussy.

"Whenver I want right? However I want?" James was sucking another mark onto your shoulder, adding to the hickeys that adorned your skin like dog tags. Claiming you as his.

"Yes!" You came hard, his groans growing deeper as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your pussy squelching around his cock, milking him for his cum once more. Every spurt of his seed tucked safe and sound against your cervix.

When he finally pulled away you were left limp and satisfied, cum leaking down your thigh as you realized that this was your life now. You were his to use as he pleased.

A protected, precious fucktoy for him and him alone.

[rafeysbrat]

his face is buried between your thighs, no warning, no words, just his mouth on you, hot and relentless, like he’s been starving for days.

rafe’s tongue drags slow and deep through your folds, slick and messy, his lips closing around your clit with a greedy pull that makes your hips buck up into him. you’re sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, one hand gripping the sheets so tight your knuckles ache, the other tangled in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against you.

the sound vibrates through your core, and you swear it’s enough to unravel you right there. “fuck, baby, y’taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles into your pussy, voice rough, words slurring like he’s drunk on you.

his tongue flicks out, teasing your entrance, dipping in just enough to make you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

he’s sloppy, unapologetic, spit and your wetness mixing until it’s dripping down your thighs, pooling on the sheets. his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down like you’re his last meal, even as you squirm, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth.

he’s not gentle—rafe doesn’t do gentle when he’s like this, when he’s been gone too long and all he can think about is tasting you, owning you with his tongue.

you’re gasping, a string of broken moans spilling out, your head thrown back as he sucks hard on your clit, lips pulling it into his mouth, tongue swirling in a way that makes your vision blur. “rafe—oh god, right there, don’t stop,” you whimper, voice shaky, barely coherent.

your thighs tremble, trying to close around his head, but he growls low in his throat, forcing them back open with a rough push of his hands. his grip is bruising, possessive, and you love it—love the way he’s so fucking obsessed with you, like he can’t breathe without his mouth on your pussy.

“ain’t stoppin’ f’you, not till ya fuckin’ scream f’me,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to let his words hit you, his lips brushing against your swollen clit as he speaks.

his stubble scrapes your inner thighs, rough and burning, and it only adds to the mess of sensation—his tongue diving back in, licking broad and filthy, like he’s trying to devour every inch of you.

he’s relentless, pushing his face deeper, nose nudging your clit while his tongue fucks into you, curling in a way that has you seeing stars. your whole body’s shaking now, thighs quivering, stomach tight as you grind against his face, chasing the heat building low in your core.

“rafe, m’gonna—fuck, m’gonna come,” you gasp out, voice breaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you try to hold on. he doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to breathe, just doubles down, sucking and licking faster, harder, until you’re unraveling completely.

your hips jerk, a loud, desperate moan ripping from your throat as the orgasm crashes through you, hot and overwhelming, your pussy pulsing against his mouth. he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re oversensitive, whimpering and squirming, trying to pull away.

his hands lock you in place, tongue still working you through the aftershocks, lapping up every bit of your release like he’s addicted. “one more, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked, lips grazing your soaked folds. “gimme one more, c’mon, know y’can take it f’me.”

you’re a mess, panting, barely able to form words, but the way he’s looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, makes you want to give him everything.

he’s obsessed, fucking addicted to your pussy, to the way you taste, the way you feel, like he could live between your legs forever and still want more. “rafe, s’too much,” you whine, but your hips are already rolling against his mouth again, betraying you.

“nah, baby, this is just the beginnin’,” he says, voice thick with that cocky edge, lips smirking against your skin before he dives back in, tongue relentless. “i was gone for a fuckin’ week, y’think i’m stoppin’ now?”

tags: @isasweetie @ditzyrafe

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ fame's shadow .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Vil Schoenheit x insecure gn! reader

𓏵 695 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 2nd Person POV, no pronouns used, established relationship with reader, angst, hurt/comfort

kind of a self-indulgent post bc this sickness is making me feel things （；￣＾￣）feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

It started with a single article.

“Vil Schoenheit’s New Muse? Mystery Student Spotted by His Side!”

You’d laughed when you first saw it, showing Vil the grainy photo of the two of you walking through Main Street after classes. He’d only sighed, brushing it off with the ease of someone far too used to the tabloids. "They’ll get bored soon enough. Just ignore them, darling."

But they didn’t.

Soon, there were more headlines. “Ordinary Nobody Caught in Vil’s Spotlight!” “Rising Star Vil Schoenheit and Their Unworthy Partner—How Long Will It Last?” Comment sections filled with snide remarks, nitpicking everything from your appearance to the way you stood next to him.

At first, you convinced yourself it didn’t matter. Vil loved you. He chose you. That should’ve been enough.

But the comments stuck.

"They don’t even dress properly. How embarrassing for Vil."

"Must be nice riding his coattails."

"Do they seriously think they can keep up with someone like him?"

You stopped mentioning the articles to Vil. He was always so busy—filming commercials, practicing for his next show, overseeing the Pomefiore dorm. Every moment you had together felt precious, and the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress.

So, you smiled. You nodded. You told him you were fine.

But you started checking your reflection more often, tugging at your clothes and wondering if they looked too plain. You spoke less around his friends, afraid of saying something the media would twist into another cruel headline. You scrolled through hateful comments at night, your heart sinking further with each word.

And Vil, ever composed, ever radiant, never seemed to notice.

“You look tired,” he’d comment sometimes, brushing a hand against your cheek. “Have you been taking care of yourself? You know how important self-care is.”

You’d nod, force a smile, and tell him everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

It hit you during one of Vil’s photoshoots. You’d tagged along, thinking it would be nice to spend time together, even if you were just watching from the sidelines. But the photographer’s assistant, unaware of who you were, had muttered under their breath while passing by.

"Can’t believe they’re the one Vil chose. He could do so much better."

You froze. The room buzzed with activity, Vil effortlessly shifting poses under the bright lights. He looked perfect, untouchable. And you? You felt like a stain in his otherwise flawless image.

That night, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Vil, do you ever wonder if… if you’d be better off without me?" you asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Vil blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What kind of nonsense is that? Where is this coming from?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Forget it. I’m just overthinking things.”

But Vil didn’t forget. He studied you with sharp, discerning eyes—the same eyes that could catch the slightest flaw in a stage performance or a fashion ensemble. And for the first time, he truly saw the exhaustion behind your smile, the way your shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.

“Darling,” he murmured, stepping closer, “who’s been filling your head with such ridiculous thoughts?”

You tried to brush it off, but Vil wouldn’t let you. Not this time. And when you finally broke down, confessing everything—the articles, the comments, the way you’d slowly started believing them—his expression hardened, not with anger toward you but at the world that had dared to hurt someone he cherished.

“You should have told me sooner,” he said, voice softer now, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I can’t protect you from shadows I can’t see.”

That night, Vil didn’t just hold you; he made calls, sent emails, and ensured that certain tabloids would think twice before publishing another cruel word. But more importantly, he promised—no matter how bright his spotlight shone, it would never cast you aside.

Because in his eyes, you were never a shadow. You were the light that made his world worth standing in.

[wandascosmic]

hii! could you write one with kinda emo aou wanda, with i hate everyone but you vibes, dating reader who’s more popular than wanda? just their cute little moments together

because of you (request)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which wanda was initially the prickly new member of the avengers, however you quickly became her greatest friend.

word count: 1416

tags: unedited, fluff, wanda's got a huge crush on you, a little bit of i hate everyone but you vibes but i've never really written it before so i hope i did you justice!! emo wanda being the little baby we all love (this is also like my sorta first time writing emo wanda too so my writing horizons expanded quite a bit with this request, she's genuinely just very cute though

“You have to be cheating,” Sam says angrily, slumping on the couch and crossing his arms over his chest, slamming his controller down beside him. 

“Nope,” you respond with a grin, pleased with yourself for beating Sam at yet another video game. “You just suck.” 

Sam narrows his eyes, before rising up once again in determination. “One more round, only this time you’re handicapped by giving me a five second head start.” 

“Sure,” you agree, already prepared to win for the 15th time in a row. 

However, before you and Sam can start your video game, a tired Sokovian witch makes her way into the living room. 

“Oh, hey, Wanda,” Sam says to your girlfriend who stands beside you, immediately wrapping her arms around your shoulder. 

Wanda ignores him, and instead asks you, “Where were you?” against your neck.

“I promised Sam I would play Mario Kart with him last night,” you explain. “I bet him 50 bucks I could win 10 rounds in a row, and guess what, I’m at 70 now!” 

“Not for long!” Sam interrupts. 

“Want to stay and watch?” you ask Wanda, who hesitates for a split second, not really wanting the company of anyone else except for you, but ends up agreeing with a small nod.

You shift over on the couch to make room for her, and she immediately sits down and rests her head on your shoulder while you begin another round against Sam. 

You end up winning about 150 bucks that day. 

***

Wanda had been part of the team for about 7 months now, and you had quickly become her closest friend in the first 2. 

Wanda, at her most vulnerable and lowest moments was still riding on a lot of the guilt from Ultron, add the fact that she had just lost her only family member and best friend, and the fact that she was already a bit prickly to begin with, it was safe to say that the majority of the team was too scared of what could happen to them if they even attempted to get close to her. 

Wanda was okay with that at the time, she wanted the freedom to grieve without the added pressure of someone counting on her.

However, you were an exception. 

You broke down the walls that had been built so far up after lost plagued Wanda’s life.

Every time she would protest, you stayed, no matter what.

She was a mess, and over time you became her safe haven.

You helped her grieve, helped her overcome her anger, her sadness, and you became her hope. 

Now, Wanda could never get enough of you.

You were her best friend, and she was yours. 

Wanda was eternally grateful for your existence.

“Y/N?” Wanda asked, one month into your friendship you laying on her shoulder watching the sitcom on the TV from her bed. 

“Hm?” you responded. 

“Thank you,” Wanda said, hoping you could understand every single hidden word she wanted to convey as best she could.

You smiled up at her, “Anytime.” 

***

“Wow, Wanda, what’s got you so grumpy?” Tony asks, noticing Wanda’s very apparent frown. 

“She hasn’t seen Y/N in two days,” Nat says with a grin. “Y/N’s mission from Monday got extended last night, so now she won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” 

Wanda glared at Natasha before going back to pouring her cereal. 

“Come on, Nat,” Steve says as he walks in. “I think it’s sweet.” 

“Hey, I never said it wasn’t,” Natasha says, holding up her hands in surrender. 

Wanda’s frown deepened, despite the truthfulness to everything they were saying. 

“Come on, Wanda,” Steve said as he came around the counter to pat the witch on her back. “Just one more day.” 

Wanda nodded quietly, making her way back to her bedroom to eat her cereal and wait for your return.

***

You came back at 6AM, and your face softened as you saw Wanda laying on top of your covers, very clearly having been waiting for your return by the sitcom still running on your TV in the background. 

Carefully you kneeled beside her on the bed, gently shaking her awake. 

Wanda stirred awake slowly, looking around disoriented before she saw your face, her eyes lighting up and immediately wrapping her arms around you. “You’re back,” she whispered. 

“I was only gone 3 days,” you reply in amusement.

“Don’t care,” Wanda says, hugging you tighter. 

You hug her back in return, letting go after a few minutes to go take a shower and change into your pajamas, and Wanda doing the same. 

Then, at 6:30AM, the two of you go to bed together, and spend the rest of the day wrapped in each other’s arms. 

***

“So, what is it you want my help with?” Natasha asks, secretly gleeful at seeing the shy side of Wanda for once behind all her sharp edges. 

“I want you to help me set up Y/N’s birthday party,” Wanda says shyly, looking down at her shoes. 

“Oh, Wanda, we’re gonna have a blast,” Natasha replies, walking over to Wanda and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, leading her to go grab the supplies. 

***

Wanda would never admit it, except maybe to you, but she wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for your birthday.

You had been the only one to help her when she needed it, and every time she felt like she was too sharp, too mean, too prickly, you accepted her with unwavering kindness.

You were the only thing that made Wanda feel seen after Pietro’s death. 

And so, she needed you to see how grateful she was with everything inside of her. 

“Okay, so we’re gonna get balloons, streamers, the food and drinks, cutlery, decorations, then the cake tomorrow?” Wanda asks Natasha as the two grab everything for your birthday tomorrow.

“Yep, Tony’s money is finally going towards something useful,” Natasha says, making Wanda look over towards her curiously. “Your love for your girlfriend,” she explains.

Wanda slaps Nat’s arm in return, though she does end up blushing for the next 5 minutes. 

***

“Oh, god, what if she doesn’t like it?” Wanda asks, nervous since it’s only one hour before you’re supposed to arrive back at the compound.

Natasha pats Wanda on the back reassuringly. “It’s gonna be fine, Wanda. Truthfully it came from you, and she loves anything you do for her no matter what.” 

Wanda nods, nervously playing with her rings in anticipation.

“Can she hurry back already,” Sam groans. “I wanna eat the cake already. Wanda glares angrily at him. 

“Careful, Sam,” Nat warns playfully. “If you mess that cake up a single bit Wanda might magic you into a pickled herring.” 

Sam looks over to Wanda who’s eyes glow red in a threatening manner. 

Sam holds up his arms in surrender. 

Wanda ends up switching between being nervous and stopping Sam, Bucky, and Tony from accidentally doing something that might harm your party, and suddenly an hour has gone by.

“Y/N’s on her way back right now!” Tony calls out after asking FRIDAY. “She’s gonna be up here in two minutes!” 

“Okay, everyone hide!” Natasha yells out, grabbing Wanda to hide with her behind the counter as everyone sprawls out across the upstairs floor. 

“Please say she likes it, please say she likes it,” Wanda mutters under her breath in her hiding place so no one can hear her.

Though Nat’s absurdly good hearing foils her plan. “She’ll love it, Wanda.” 

Wanda hums in response, taking a reassuring breath before waiting to surprise you. 

“Thirty seconds everyone!” Tony calls out after FRIDAY notifies him on his watch.

3…2…1…

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Everyone calls out after you finally make your way up the stairs.

You barely register the shock before you’re smiling widely. 

“This was all Wanda,” Nat tells you, causing you to look towards the witch who looks incredibly sheepish.

“Everyone helped,” Wanda mumbles.

“Really?” you shake your head before making your way over to your girlfriend and kissing her fiercely. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“I needed a way to show you how grateful I am that you saved me,” Wanda tells you.

“Well, you saved me too,” you reply. “You made everything so much better.” 

Wanda’s eyes light up at your confession, and she hugs you tightly, causing you to laugh and wrap your arms around her. 

“Now, how about we enjoy my birthday together, hm? This will be the best one yet because of you.”

[earlysunshines]

sunkissed

pham hanni x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: it took a day trip to the beach for you and hanni to confront what you two always felt for each other.

warnings: pining 3x ; idiots in love and in denial ; s*nb*rn for those who are very sensitive to that (this is a joke) (im so sorry for those who can’t tan without burning) (couldn't be me i fear) ; literally nothing else just fluff lol ; they’re down bad for each other ; anything else not mentioned; kinda proofread

a/n: smth sweet and shorter than usual and also based on this song AND my friend and i passing out tgt in the car otw back home from a day trip to the beach. we were OUUTT like a light omfg and we both woke up so disoriented ok enjoy

survive the day being around hanni—that was the goal.

it was just a day trip to the beach, nothing crazy. you’ve been to the beach more times than you can count on both hands. the only thing different about this trip is that hanni would be there. 

while brushing your teeth in the morning, you told (convinced) yourself that there would be nothing to worry about since the rest of your friends would be going too. even when an uneasy feeling crawls up your back, you tell yourself it’ll be fine.

the last time you went to the beach was when your best friend yunjin invited you to tag along with her friends from home that you’ve met with a few times prior. the day was easy and light. you all sang along to music on the way to the coast, struggled to find a spot to park and settle on the beach, tanned, played with the volleyball kazuha brought, swam and splashed each other until you were too tired to keep messing with each other, took at least a hundred pictures, and walked around until the sun set before you took turns driving home.

you figured today would be similar—fun and simple.

you pray that it’s simple, lighthearted, and relaxing once you’re out the door and on the way to meet up with minji and the rest.

(you shake your head once you find yourself thinking of hanni being part of 'the rest')

once you’ve reached a point where it’s too late to turn back home, you realize you forgot your sunscreen. one of the most important things you needed. you groan at the red light when the realization hits, and once the light turns green, you tell yourself that it’ll be fine—again. someone has to have some sunscreen at least. 

you park your car down the road, a secret spot minji knows where they won’t ticket or tow you. you grab your bags, walk over to minji’s place, and catch everyone outside the apartment she shares with hanni. everyone is already in light, summer clothing with their bags hanging on their shoulders looking tired and ready to go.

“there she is,” minji says, turning her head in your direction, everyone following her gaze as well. “took you long enough.”

“i’m two minutes late.” you roll your eyes, “you’ll live.”

“whatever. alright, we can put the bags in the trunk and then get going. the sun is about to rise.” minji adds, gesturing to the youngest of the group so she can help them out first.

you glance over at hanni once minji heads to the car. she has a tote bag hung on her shoulder, a white off-the-shoulder t-shirt on, and a nice flowy, long blue skirt too. her hair is flowing down her shoulders and there’s a hairtie she borrowed from you a few months ago (not that it's important or anything. you just happened to notice) on her wrist that you assume she’ll use later. 

hanni looks stunning in the light of dawn. she always looks stunning, and right now she looks especially stunning because you catch the small lines under her eyes and the slight squint that hint at the lack of sleep. she smiles when she greets you.

“hey,” her voice is soft, tired. 

“hi hanni.” you grin easily at her. “you look exhausted.”

“i couldn’t sleep,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “i tried sleeping at eight. it worked, but i woke up at twelve and couldn’t sleep until thirty minutes before we had to wake up.”

“maybe you’ll get some more sleep in the car?”

“i’d hope so.” 

“yeah.” you nod. you both stare at each other for a good two seconds. it spikes your heartbeat. then put your hand out. “let me help you with your bag.”

“what? no, it’s fine.” she tells you, “it’s not that heavy.”

you shake your head, already slipping your fingers underneath the straps of the bag and slipping it off her shoulder. she frowns playfully before you head over to where minji is, helping her load the trunk.

everyone is already situated in the car by the time you and minji are done loading. she closes the trunk and heads toward the drivers seat. danielle is sitting in the passengers seat, haerin and hyein are in the middle, and you’re—

left with hanni.

you blink.

there’s a bag taking up one of the seats on the side, so you’re left in the middle. you take a small breath before squeezing through the small space to get into the back, settling down next to the girl who makes your words fizzle in your throat. 

your legs brush against each other and your arms are mildly squished. the proximity screws up with your composure, making you momentarily flustered and unable to think straight.

“it’s a little cramped, isn’t it?” you joke. it’s lame, but hanni’s lips twitch into a small smile.

“dani was complaining about car sickness even though i called shotgun… and so did the other two. were shoved in the back for now.”

“ah,” you don’t know what else to say except for, “i hope you’re able to sleep comfortably.”

“oh definitely.” she laughs softly. “i hope i don’t take up much of your personal space while i’m out.”

you smile, shrugging. “i don’t mind.”

a soft flush graces hanni’s cheeks at your response. she smiles and rests her head against the seat, her blinking slowing down every few seconds.

minji fixes the rearview mirror, then turns up the sound of the music. something easy going and summer-like plays. you assume hyein is on aux.

“okay, everyone, sit tight. we’ll refill gas and grab breakfast in an hour or two.” minji says.

with that, hanni nods, then nudges your shoulder. you tilt your head and she moves her arm to link it with yours, muttering quietly, “so we’re less squished,” before closing her eyes and leaning her head against your shoulder.

you’re stiff at first, although very briefly. your whole body relaxes not so long after, and you find yourself drifting off into sleep as well.

hyein and haerin turn around thirty minutes into the car ride to find you two asleep together. your mouth is parted a bit and hanni is practically hugging your arm now. the two grin at each other, hyein snaps a picture, and when they show it to danielle everyone is content.

“it’ll work out.” minji grins to herself.

—

hanni wakes up feeling completely disoriented.

the car is moving slower than before. she glances out and finds that they’ve already taken an exit out into some small town, probably for gas and breakfast. she blinks a few times before rubbing her eyes with her free hand, trying to bring herself back to reality after her nap.

when she scans the area after gaining full consciousness, she notices that your arms are still linked. you’re asleep, loose and comfortable against her, your neck angled questionably. she links your arms tighter as she stares out the window, the filtered sunlight kissing her features softly.

minji turns into a gas station that looks a little run-down after a few minutes down a small road. the feeling of the car slowing down wakes you up. you mumble something incoherent and groan, lifting your head up and resting it against the headrest tiredly. 

haerin catches your groan and turns around to see you struggling to open your eyes. hyein follows, giggling at the sight of you two, but for the most part you, with an expression comparable to a newborn kitten.

“wakey wakey!” hyein beams, making you groan again—louder this time.

“are we here?” you ask in a drowsy voice.

“minji’s getting gas.” haerin says flatly. “bathroom break, snack splurge, and dani’s finding a cafe on the way for us to eat breakfast at. we have like, an hour and a half.”

your body goes limp again as it rests against the seat. “great. i’m going back to sleep.”

“you should probably go to the restroom.” haerin suggests.

“i might pass out on the toilet.” you joke. 

danielle pokes her head through the open door in the passengers, turning to you and almost ordering, “you guys should go to the restroom just in case! and grab some snacks.”

hanni yawns, then nudges you.

“well you’re going to have to get out regardless so i can go.”

you groan again. 

hanni’s teasing tone is evidence that the nap worked. she’s back to the hanni you’re used to, the hanni that’s relentless when it comes to poking at you and throwing snarky remarks.

you scramble out into the gas station and end up going to the restroom too, even buying a little protein bar to snack on once you’re back in the car. minji turns up the music as she drives out the small lot and danielle finds a place to grab a quick breakfast before the beach.

“thirty minutes away there’s a…” you catch danielle squinting just barely before she continues, “cafe! it’s close to the beach too. we can take pictures before we swim!”

hanni turns to face you, stifling a giggle at her energy. you bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself from smiling too hard—not necessarily because of danielle.

you and hanni aren’t linking arms the rest of the car ride. her arm still rests against yours, which is inevitable due to the bag taking up a whole seat, but you don’t mind. 

the sun splays out across hanni’s features gently as she stares out the window. your eyes trail down the slope of her nose that shines softly and lingers on the strands of hair brushing against her cheek. you stop yourself then, turning to face the road and the dangling charm hanging from the mirror of minji’s car.

—

you’re completely awake once you reach the cafe. the exterior of the building is modern looking, but it’s vintage aroma and cozy interior reflects the comfort and authenticity of the place. the employees are around your age, maybe a little older. their smiles light up the area even more. 

minji is the first to walk up to the counter and read off the menu. her eyes widen and a small smile graces her lips.

“everything sounds good—it smells good here. do you guys know what you want?”

you squint at the menu for a moment before nodding, “i’ll just share food with someone. get me an iced tea, though.” 

“we can share then y/n. i’ll get the classic breakfast with bacon and an iced latte with whole milk.” hanni says matter-of-factly.

danielle glances at minji and it’s weirdly mischievous. she turns on her heel to meet you and hanni face to face, grinning wider.

“since you two know what you want, why don’t you grab us some seats?”

“um, okay.” you say, shrugging.

now it’s just you and hanni walking around the area. it’s not too busy, but a handful of seats are already taken. hanni points at the table outside, something similar to a table you’ve seen at camping sites. the only thing different about it is that it’s really nice looking. the table is marbled and not decade-old wood with moss growing on it.

you stretch your arms out and a hint of your skin peeks out when your shirt lifts. hanni pretends she doesn't notice.

“it’s nice here.” hanni says as she settles down. she’s gazing out at the small town ahead, mixed with hues of green and birds soaring above it freely. “it’s beautiful.”

“yeah.” you agree. it’s not one of those cliche rom-com moments where you’re staring at her while you agree. it’s truly beautiful out there. “it’d be nicer if i had a meal…”

“oh my god,” hanni scoffs as you sit down in front of her. “you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah and i’m also the person who’s going to down half your breakfast.”

“of course you are.”

“...what’s that supposed to mean?”

hanni raises her brows, giving you that look. 

you roll your eyes, looking out the distance long enough for hanni to study the side of your face (and if there were a quiz for each feature memorized, she’d ace it). she takes in the view for a bit longer before speaking,

“you look cute by the way,” she says nervously, unable to look you in the eye. “fitting for the beach.”

you long to reach your hand out and simply rest it against her face, but you hold back. your lips lift up into a smile.

“i think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me this month.”

“hey!” 

you laugh, teeth showing and all. “you look beautiful too, hanni.” you say after a beat. 

before either of you can hang on to whatever stills in the air, the rest of the group finds you two together and situates themselves. minji hands you both your drinks and tells you that the food will take a few minutes before they serve it to you. hyein doesn’t stay in her seat for long, immediately standing up to take in the view. 

danielle grabs her camera and suggests taking pictures while the food is being prepared. none of you shut down the idea.

first it’s a few solo pictures of everyone, then duos and group pictures. minji and hanni pose together, making a stupid face when danielle takes the picture. hyein and haerin take a picture with you next, all of you smiling like it’s a family photo and it's as cute as it is ridiculous. then it’s danielle, minji, and hanni bunched up together cutely for the next photo.

the session is interrupted when one of the employees brings out the food, placing it on the table before offering to help take a picture of all of you. and after that, just when you think you can finally eat, minji pushes you to hanni, who’s being pushed by danielle.

“now a picture of you two!” minji suggests. it’s not really a suggestion, more of an order.

“okay, okay.” you respond, giving hanni a small grin.

your hand slips down to right above her waist, resting lightly as you nudge her just a bit closer. she tilts her head a bit, smiling softly. you do the same, then the flash on danielle’s camera goes off.

“cute,” danielle mumbles, glancing at the picture. “okay, let’s eat now.”

—

the drive to the beach isn’t long, but the journey to a spot that’s not taken up by families is. it's awfully crowded for a wednesday.

you have your totebag on one arm and hold a bag that minji forced you to carry with the other. it feels as if the bag you’re holding will slip from your fingers any second, or maybe that’ll be you with how much scorching sand sneaks into your slides and hinders your ability to walk. the sand burns your feet here and there, but you push through and end up finding a nice spot that had been a seven-minute walk from parking. 

the sun tickles your skin. it’s quite hot, obviously, but it heats you in a way that kind of burns you while also bringing you a feeling of peace. you feel alive.

everyone takes part in setting up their spot. hyein and haerin lay out the blankets with danielle and hanni while you and minji struggle to plant the big umbrellas. once you set up a spot for shade, hyein lies right in that spot and sighs like she’s just lugged a cart full of weights. 

“it’s so hot.” she groans, “i need to lie for a bit.”

“put on sunscreen at least.” you scold lightly. you tug on her arm, urging her to get up before squeezing sunscreen on your palms. you rub your hands together before applying the sunscreen on hyein’s arms, legs, and back. you also leave a very noticeable white cast on her face with how messily you’ve applied it. it makes her look stupidly adorable, so you snap a picture and chuckle at it. “the sun is scared of you now.”

“i look like a clown." she pouts, "of course it is."

“it’ll go away,” you assure, rubbing your thumb on her cheek to blend it in a bit nicer. “it’s only bad on your cheek and forehead.”

“your turn.” she says mischievously.

you huff.

hanni watches you slip off your tank top swiftly—in an oddly enticing manner—leaving you in swim shorts and a sports bra. hanni tries to look away but it’s impossible when the curve of your back meets the sun in such an alluring way. you’ve probably worked out a little extra in order to look like this for the beach trip. it’s safe to say that the work paid off.

“nice view, huh?” danielle’s words rip hanni’s gaze from the back of your arm. 

hanni meets danielle’s eyes, a glint in the way she’s looking at the older girl. hanni knows what she’s thinking, but she doesn’t want to face it.

“stop it.” hanni sighs. 

“i think today is the day for it.”

“for what?”

“oh han, you know.” danielle raises her eyebrows as she looks back over to you. you’re making a face while hyein puts sunscreen on your cheeks a little too aggressively. “you can’t hide your feelings forever.”

“no.” hanni replies almost immediately. she nearly laughs at the way you look with sunscreen smeared all over your face so unevenly. “today is supposed to be normal… relaxing and whatnot. i just want to have a good time—i want y/n to have a good time.”

“she’ll have a good time as long as you’re here hanni. please, trust me.”

“i just—i love her too much. i’m too scared.”

“i’m sure she feels just like you do, and one of you has to face that eventually.”

danielle doesn't give hanni a chance to process her words; she turns hanni into a flustered mess without warning her.

danielle calls you over and insists that you help out hanni with putting on sunscreen. it’s embarrassing how hanni can tell her cheeks are burning through the heat of the sun, amplifying the feeling. it’s even worse when you agree like it’s nothing. 

your hands spread sunscreen across her arms and legs with ease. when you tell her to turn around so you can apply it on her back, she finds herself nodding even when her heart is racing and telling her to run away.

the chill of the sunscreen clashes with the warmth on her skin. she instinctively moves away from your touch.

“sorry.” you mutter.

with a turn of her head, no further than where you can see the side of her face, she responds, “no, it’s fine. it just caught me off guard.” 

you nod before continuing. your hand is soft against the skin of her back, trailing up the back of her ribs to where her shoulders are. everything is awfully intimate and there’s a thrill in both of your guts that neither of you can suppress.

hanni feels your hand linger on her shoulder before you softly say, “done. did you want me to get your face?”

she wants to simultaneously dismiss and accept the offer. the thought of your hands caressing her face excites her, but the proximity and intimacy of it all makes her heart tumble in her chest.

“it’s fine, i—” she pauses, her brows furrowing when she catches something on your face. “hold on, you missed a spot.”

there’s a small area of sunscreen on your cheek that hanni wipes over with her thumb and it dissolves into your skin easily. she willfully ignores how the glow of your skin under the sun makes you so undeniably cute. 

“thanks.” is all you can say to keep you from doing something stupid.

both of you purse a forced smile at the same time before redirecting your attention to something else—anything that’s not each other. 

today is going to be a wonderful day, you both tell yourselves. everything will be fine.

—

all of you tan for an less than an hour before actually getting up. you nearly fall asleep and risk a sunburn, but hyein is there to snap you out of your drowsiness and flips you over like a sausage on a grill. you nearly fall asleep again.

minji had been sitting in one of the beach chairs you brought, her cap sitting on her head in a way that made her look like a father. danielle had fallen asleep with the book she was reading on her face. haerin was there next to her not far from passing out. hanni was laid next to you, reading a book, and it was odd that she had always been there. always nearby, always close. 

you didn’t mind. 

it isn’t long before you finally get up, dusting sand off your legs, and urge minji to play volleyball with you. the two of you share a soda before peppering and it brings enough energy to keep you two shouting at each other to keep the ball up in the air. the rest watch you two run around desperately—minus haerin, who’s still lying down and half-asleep—and are impressed that you’ve kept the ball up for so long. minji slips up and hits the ball too far off to your left, which reels a groan from you once it hits the sand.

hanni decides to get up and join, determined to do better than both of you. you try to keep your eyes off her figure and how great she looks in that two piece of hers. you try your very best not to daydream about kissing every inch of her that the sun touches, to have your hands trace the outline of her body.

you all start a triangle of peppering, but the spikes, bumps, and sets all fall out of pattern when it turns into a scramble to keep the ball up. 

it’s nice to spend time doing the most mundane, simple things with your friends on the beach. you can’t remember the last time you felt this relieved. the vitamin d from the sun seems to be working.

it’s even better when danielle decides to dip her foot in the water, letting the waves that hit the shore soak her feet. it’s even better when minji screams and runs into the water, falling in and wailing on about how cold it is.

the best part, however, is when hanni feels a surge of confidence to take your hand and lead you toward the water. both of you laugh the whole way down, you shiver when the water hits your abdomen, and hanni crosses her arms when the chill reaches her whole body.

when you manage to tackle her into the saltwater, soaking her completely and earning a playful jab to your shoulder, you can’t help but fall a little more in love with her. she pushes her wet hair back and looks at you like she’s going to kill you. before you know it, hanni lunges forward and takes you down with her.

maybe she did it because you did it to her first. maybe it’s because she likes the feeling of being close to you.

and maybe you don’t mind at all. 

maybe you swim over to the deep end and tease her for not being able to stand there without half her face being submerged, just to see the annoyed look on her face. maybe you like the way it makes your heart flutter. maybe you carry her through the water and keep her on your shoulders while playing chicken, staying skin to skin because you like it too. 

for the next few hours a cycle starts. it repeats three times.

you play around in the water, swimming and splashing each other like little kids before returning back to the towels to reapply sunscreen and tan while someone’s queued song plays on the speaker minji brought. after a good amount of time being slow-cooked by the sun, you all play with the volleyball again before returning back to the water. the day is filled with laughter, stupid inside jokes, sand finding shelter in your hair and ears, and hanni lingering closer and closer.

—

you and minji take the reigns when it comes to packing everything up. you take pity on the rest, more so the youngest of the group, who are all out of energy and gawking at their very noticeable tan lines.

hanni bumps your shoulder and tells you she can carry one of the two bags that you’re carrying. you tell her it’s fine. she shakes her head and does what you did that morning; she slips her fingers under the strap of the bag carrying the towels and gives you a shit eating grin that might just make you combust.

“i can hear the wedding bells already,” minji mutters from behind into your ear, “with all the flower girls and bridesmaids and—”

you elbow her shoulder and roll your eyes. “the water is right there, i could throw you back in.”

“whatever. go get her.” you can tell she’s winking at you when she says it with that snarky, knowing tone.

you miss when you try to elbow her again.

the sand had burned your feet the whole way back to the restroom area and the strap of the umbrella bags rubbed against your skin so much that you might mistake the red mark as a sunburn. everyone is exhausted by the time you’re back at the car. you and minji were the last ones to rinse yourselves off and change, so you two are extra tired. 

you and hanni find that the back seat has a little more space now. the bag that took up an extra seat somehow found shelter in the trunk. you can’t tell if this is a good thing or not.

hanni’s arm isn’t brushing against yours anymore until she goes limp and is leaning against you. maybe you didn’t need the tight space to be near her. 

—

all of you find a place to eat lunch in no time. everyone is hungry and severely dehydrated, so while everyone looks at the menu and finds a seat outside, minji asks you to help buy some water for the cooler you brought.

you’re not sure why minji wanted you to tag along to buy water, but you go regardless.

you find out why the moment you’re away from the group.

“so what are you going to do about hanni?” minji asks.

your head jerks to face her. “do what?” you question, acting stupid.

minji shakes her head. “you two are the most oblivious idiots i’ve ever met.”

she’s right, you know she’s right. 

minji’s been one of your closest friends since you started university. she’s seen you at your lowest when you had been fighting with your parents for a month straight for changing your major. she's been there at your best when you received that internship you had been fighting for. she’s even seen you when you were drunk, confessing that you had been in love with hanni the month after you met her. minji knows you like the back of her palm.

“you guys have been lingering near each other the whole day,” she remarks, kicking a pebble on the ground. “she’s been checking you out the whole time. you have been checking her out as well.”

a blush creeps up your neck and tightens up your throat.

“i’m just scared—”

“i know you’re scared, but there really isn’t anything to be scared of. the feeling is mutual, i promise.” she stops talking for a moment to gaze out at the scenery in front of you. the late afternoon sun is shifting into something a little more golden—slowly but surely—and the trees are practically sparkling because of how vibrant they are. “look at how beautiful today is. everyone is happy and tan and all that. today is the day.”

“i’ll think about it.” you say, staring out at the road and the two birds that fly past. “i will.”

—

lunch is filled with laughter, satisfied cravings, and more pictures. you spend an achingly large amount of time smiling at hanni, making eye contact with her, and forcing yourself not to stare at her longer than you should.

(long enough to the point where one of your friends would notice and call you out.)

haerin suggests walking along the boardwalk and you all follow. you all explore a few little shops and danielle spends a little money on a small trinket from one of them. hanni branches out and finds a little display with cute shell bracelets, all with different colors. you wind up following her.

“these are so cute,” she says, picking up a bracelet with pink charms. she finds another one, handing it to you and adds, “look, this one is your favorite color.”

she grabs your wrist and puts it on you, smiling at how nice it fits.

“this is really cute.” you bring your wrist closer to examine it. 

“maybe we should get matching ones.”

“do you want to?” you say, quiet and casual, but your eyes are warm, serious. 

“yeah, i really like these ones.” hanni decides, but she likes the idea of having something that connects her to you more than the bracelet itself. 

the rest of the group watches you both from outside the shop. through the window they catch you two giggling about something as the cashier checks your purchase, and when you’re back out to meet them, they all grin at the sight of your matching bracelets.

“when is the wedding?” minji questions, only half-joking.

hanni rolls her eyes. “it’s just a bracelet. i know you’re jealous.”

minji just laughs, then looks you in the eye and raises her brows, clearly amused.

—

you all end up back at the beach after walking around and talking about anything and everything because it’s been so long since you all were normal, real people and not prisoners to an academic institution.

danielle is taking a few more pictures of everyone, but mainly haerin because she’s been too timid to put herself out there. danielle is determined to curate an instagram post for haerin that will shake everyone to their core. 

hyein leans against your shoulder, using you as a pillar for support while she watches minji and hanni play around with the volleyball. your hands are planted behind you as you stare out at the ocean, finding comfort in the sound of the waves crashing and the occasional sound of hyein sipping on her soda.

“y/n?” hyein asks quietly.

“hm?”

“what’s with you and hanni?”

“what do you mean?”

“i can’t tell if you guys are dating or just oblivious.”

you can’t help but laugh. “you sound like minji.”

“ew, don’t say that.” she groans. “but seriously, what’s with you guys? minji said she had some sort of plan for you two but i never really got details…”

of course minji had a plan. danielle was probably a part of it too. 

you don’t know how to explain your feelings for hanni. she’s the type of person you look forward to seeing everyday. no one had ever made you feel all giddy like she has, not even your stupid crushes when you were a teenager. 

hanni has a smile that kind of steals your breath away. she’s the kind of girl that makes you grin and cackle like an idiot without trying. she laughs hard at your jokes and moments of stupidity and it almost makes you feel like you’re in an alternate universe where she loves you just as much. she’s real and raw with you, letting her voice crack when she’s upset and being that burst of unique energy when she’s on top of the world. you love her for who she is and whatever she feels.

there’s so much warmth that seeps out of her and so much you don’t understand. there’s a lot of things you don’t understand and it’s scary how badly you want to know every inch of her.

you don’t know how to explain the complexity of how your heart pounds in your chest when it comes to hanni. instead, you say, all so casually but genuine in the way your tone softens, “i love her a lot.”

hyein sips on her soda again, then hums. “does she know it?”

you sigh, biting your lip before saying, “i think she will soon.”

—

“oh my god, you’re sunburnt.” hanni says as she returns to the beach towel you’re sat on.

everyone else is god-knows-where and hanni always finds herself drawn back to you. she sits down and examines your cheek.

“no i’m not.” you defend, “i’m sunkissed.”

“sure,” she giggles. she absentmindedly plays with the end of her hair, a habit that stems from her being a nervous wreck. “i think the sun made out with your face.” 

a suggestive remark catches in your throat. you decide to have some decorum instead of opening your mouth.

you turn to her finally and the sight of her staring at you with so much care and intimacy makes you feel light and relieved. her cheeks are also a hue of red—like an apple—worse than you for sure.

“i would be more focused on your face. that’s a burn.” you snicker, reaching out to place your fingers on her skin. her cheek is warmer than it should be, not just because she’s burnt. “you look like rudolph if his nose were his cheeks instead.”

“you sound ridiculous.”

“you get what i mean.” you respond bashfully. 

hanni melts when you flash that lopsided grin at her. it’s golden hour, the light hits you so perfectly, and all hanni can think of is how nice it would be to kiss you right now. she makes the mistake of glancing down at your lips—for a second—and you catch it. she speaks before you can say anything.

“today has been fun.” she breaks eye contact and plays with her hair again. her knees move to her chest and she hugs them close as she watches the sky dim. “i haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

“not even during the movie night last month?” you giggle at the memory of minji and hanni crying while half-drunk to some romcom danielle put on. the video still lives in your favorites.

“okay, well—you know what i mean. the weather is perfect and everything is going well and, i, well,” her teeth trap her bottom lip and she looks at you shyly. “i’m just really happy to be around you. everytime we’ve been left alone i just—i don’t know. it feels right. it always does.”

your world stops for a moment. your world, usually equally as busy as it is overstimulating, goes silent. hanni has that effect on you, like when she came over to drop off something during finals season to find you freaking out and calmed you down with a soothing, warm hug. or when you had just gotten into a fight with your mother for the second time in the week during lunch with your friends, then brought you back to the ground with a simple hand only our shoulder and the look in her eyes. but now? everything goes still. it’s almost unsettling.

you can only laugh. hanni puts a hand on her forehead and cringes.

“sorry, that sounded so sentimental.”

“no, no. hanni, it’s fine.” you reassure.

a surge of confidence spreads through your body like a wildfire. maybe today is the day.

“i can’t believe the sun got to kiss you and not me.” you sound like a lead in a romcom. your words are corny and make you cringe, but the way you say it sounds awfully genuine and lovestruck. 

“what?” she almost chokes on nothing. 

“i– sorry. i’m not good with these things.” you pinch the bridge of your nose.

you gulp when she looks at you with those sun-soaked eyes, they’re gleaming like the ocean in front of you. 

“minji has been trying to get me to tell you how i feel for a while… and then this trip happened and i realized that i’m too deep into everything i feel for you to keep beating around the bush.”

“you like me?”

you shake your head.

“i love you, hanni.”

she gulps, opens her mouth to say something, but she can’t. it’s impossible after you’ve just said the words that hanni has been wanting to say since you carried her home after one too many drinks at a house party. or maybe it was when you two snuck out to go on a walk late at night, sharing stories that were simultaneously heart-warming and heart-clenching. or maybe it was when she first laid eyes on you. she can’t remember when she figured out she loved you because it feels like it's always just been... there.

“i love you too, y/n.” her words are nearly a whisper.

“oh, okay, i’m really glad.” you exhale heavily, closing your eyes from pure relief and clutching your chest like you’ve just had a heart-attack. this is pretty comparable though. “because you looked so good all day and i seriously felt like an idiot this whole time trying not to look at you too hard.” it spills out your lips like a ramble, but it’s jumbled up enough to convey everything hanni needs to hear.

hanni laughs at how cute you are with your hand still clutching your chest. 

“i’ve felt the same.”

“yeah?” you tilt your head, unknowingly shifting a little closer. “minji told me you were checking me out.”

“okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“i worked out a lot for today. did you like the view?” 

“shut up before i kiss you.”

your lips relax and you swallow hard.

“i won’t shut up then.”

“then i’ll do it myself.”

it’s not until that moment that you realize that your lips are already a breath apart. hanni tilts her head a little to match you, and her lips search for yours, pressing eagerly once they meet.

you pull away first just to take a good look at her. she stares at your lips the whole time you stare at her face, lit up perfectly by golden hour. she practically launches herself back onto you, cupping your cheek and kissing you again. her mouth presses softly, firmly, warmly. you can feel her smiling into the kiss and she feels you doing the same.

your fingers rake into her hair, tugging gently as you deepen the kiss. you sigh into her like it’s a dream come true. 

and it is.

—

the rest of the group walks back to where you and hanni are to spot your hand on her jaw, her fingers twirling your hair, and lips locked from afar.

haerin laughs out of surprise and amusement. “it worked out.”

“finally,” danielle sighs.

“i told you it’d work out.” minji shrugs. she walks past the group and toward you two to purposefully break you apart—she likes embarassing both of you. 

—

everyone is completely dead once you’re back in the car. hyein is already asleep on haerin’s shoulder and minji hasn’t even left the parking lot (she’s downing an energy drink to prepare for the two and a half hour car ride).

danielle is looking through all of the photos and a few minutes later a notification pops up on your phone with all the photos danielle uploaded. before you open it up, hanni moves your arm so that it’s around her.

“wow, you’re bold. we just made out and now you’re—”

“i’d shut you up like before, but i’m not going to be an asshole and traumatize anyone today. and i’m tired, move over.” she almost sounds cranky. you find it adorable.

“okay, okay.” you extend yourself so that hanni can lay in your arms. the back of her head is on your chest and she’s holding onto your forearm. the position isn’t the most comfortable—you can feel your butt numbing from the weird angle you’re sitting at, and your legs don’t even extend fully across due to your height—but hanni is. you don’t complain.

hanni whines when you move the arm she had clung onto like a teddybear, but you feel her soften up as soon as it moves over so you can massage her scalp. 

“get some sleep.” you insist, pulling out your phone to check out the photos from danielle. they’re really great. you sort out the ones of hanni, then the ones of you and hanni, saving them all before looking over at the rest. 

fifteen minutes pass and by then you grow drowsier and drowsier. you place your phone in the cup holder and try to shift as unnoticeably you can to ease the numbing in half your limbs and ass. hanni groans when she feels you move, but you scratch her scalp again and she resumes her slumber.

a soft sigh—relieved, lovestruck, and content—leaves you as you settle down. your arms wrap around hanni, your eyes close, and everything feels perfect. you still wonder if you’re dreaming.

—

by the time minji’s back at her place, everyone is passed out. it’s jarring how full of energy minji is once she’s back home despite the ache in her upper body from repeatedly racing you in the ocean.

(she takes pride in the fact that she won, so it doesn’t matter if her limbs are burning from her freestyle.)

she shakes danielle awake and she murmurs something that’s most definitely a gibberish. but once danielle is awake, she turns to see the youngest of the group passed out cutely and haerin’s head completely covered by her hair. 

danielle snaps another picture.

“look here,” minji laughs lightly, turning on the light in the backseats. 

you and hanni are cuddled up, the dim light spread across every tangled limb and linked finger. minji and danielle wonder how you two are even comfortable like that, but they brush it off as soon as danielle pulls her phone out to take something candid.

minji laughs. low and soft. “we have to save that for the wedding.”

“for sure.” danielle agrees.

[tangyneon]

inky, tawny, teddy!

Your tastes might be ridiculous... but Gojo's weakness for you?

Now, that's a whole new level of ridiculous.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader tags: teen!gojo; teen!reader; tooth-rotting fluff; humor; gojo and you have been engaged since childhood because of an agreement between his clan and yours; neither of you really knows what that means now; pining looks so cute on gojo; denial too looks good on him; vaguely unestablished relationship; vaguely long-distance relationship; word count—895. warnings: none. this is a sequel of sorts to 'lychee pops!', but please feel free to treat it as a stand-alone if you wanna!! notes: many people asked me to write more for these two, so here it is, my loves!! hope you'll enjoy reading this, babes!! ❤️❤️

It's 10:30 at night, and Gojo Satoru finds himself standing in front of a vending machine.

But not for a snack, nor for canned coffee, and certainly not for that disgusting hot corn soup Shoko loves to sip, as if it isn't some crime against humanity.

No—this is the kind of machine that feels like it should be in a forgotten corner of a forgotten festival. Or maybe in one of the small shops that sell foolish knickknacks—things people don't really need, but they buy anyway.

Lit up by a single neon light—flickering, at that—the machine hums. Gojo feels a chilly breeze rush through the alley, sending a shiver up his spine and lifting his hair a bit. The night smells of rain on asphalt, of exhaust and smoke, of city life and its restless hubbub.

All the while, the boy—who should technically be asleep in his dorm right now; who could be anywhere else in this large, loud city—stays standing before the vending machine. Staring at the capsules filled with cheap things, idiotic things, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and his mouth tugged down into a frown that is not quite a frown anymore.

This is stupid, he tells himself. Very, very stupid.

And yet, he stays right there.

He lets his eyes scan the chart of little plastic prizes—frogs, hearts, cats, stars—until something catches his eye.

A tiny teddy bear keychain.

White as snow, with round ears, stubby arms, and two black bead eyes that somehow seem to be staring right back at him.

Oh, wow, he thinks dryly.

Because the second he sees it, he thinks of you. His mind goes to the way you'd tilt your head, smiling softly because it'd remind you of the teddy bear you lost when you were a tiny kid. Even without you here, Gojo can already picture your fingers wiggling in that ridiculous little wave, a silent "I want it".

You would lose it over this thing.

The thought makes his lips twitch. Only a bit. Before he heaves a sigh as though he is being forced into something painful—even though no one is watching, and nobody is making him do it.

Nearly reluctantly, he digs a handful of coins from his pocket, then feeds them into the machine one by one—carefully listening to each sharp clink of metal—as if he is paying some kind of penance, eager for it to be over.

Soon enough, the coins are gone. And the capsule drops with a light, hollow, echoing thunk. He sighs again, then squats, pops it open and lifts the keychain by its thin gold chain.

It looks even stupider up close—this tiny white bear, dangling in the air, catching the glow of the neon light above.

Gojo stares at it for a moment.

Then—only because he feels the need to, for some reason—he mutters under his breath, "You better love this, dummy."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gojo wraps it up the next morning.

He's not any good at this kind of thing, though. But then again, it isn't like you are either, so he does not really care—not that the boy would have cared, were you good.

He simply scrounges up a bleak envelope, shoves the keychain inside with a bit of tissue he finds at the bottom of Geto's bag, then studies it. He grimaces, then adds a folded scrap of paper.

don't get weird about it. just saw it and thought of you. it's stupid—just like you.

Sealing it, he scrawls your name and the address of your clan's estate on the front in messy handwriting, then goes to drop it off in a nearby red post box before he can change his mind.

And then—well, Gojo heads to his classes and forgets about it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gojo does not actually forget about it.

He thinks about it, all day and all evening—until the moment he is sitting down with his dinner, and his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Half-eager, and half-ready to feign distraction and indifference, the boy flips it open—then pauses.

Your face fills his phone's screen—you and your bright grin, your shining eyes, and the tiny bear you're holding up beside you. As if it has made your entire day. As if it is already the most precious thing you own.

Gojo just stares at the photo.

For one beat. For two beats. Maybe for a whole minute—he is not sure, nor particularly bothered, truth be told.

His thumb hovers over the keys. He wonders if he should send back some smart remark. Or a joke.

Eventually, Gojo moves his thumb away, finding himself smiling—not his usual wide, mischievous ones, but something smaller. Maybe even realer. The kind of smile that sneaks up on the boy, softening his whole face without him meaning it to.

"Ridiculous," he mutters—but the word comes out unbearably fond, more a soft little laugh than a complaint.

He stares at the bear's dumb face for a second more. Then, shaking his head, he slides his phone back into his pocket, and leans back in his seat, eyes drifting to the inky sky outside the window.

Wondering already—already—what he can send you next.

Because if this is what it takes to see you smile so brightly from so many kilometres away, Gojo reckons he'll buy out the whole stupid vending machine next time.

© tangyneon 2025 || please don't plagiarise, translate or repost this || characters used here aren't mine || header is from pinterest || masterlist.

[gothicpaperback]

THE WAY HE CARES | PART TWO

<<< PART ONE | MASTERLIST | PART THREE >>>

wc: 2,2k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

taglist: @himboelover | @harrypotteranna23-blog | @isabella-rose-trastamara | @ro4nix | @sunndroppp | @harriedandharassed

THE WAY HE CARES | PART TWO

Joel stared at me like I’d grown a second head. The silence stretched so long I thought maybe I had. He blinked once. Then again. Slowly.

“What the hell did you just say?”

I shifted the plate of brownies in my hands. “You heard me.”

His jaw flexed. “Yeah, I heard you. I just… figured it was some kinda joke. A weird one.”

“It’s not.”

He ran a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath I couldn’t catch. Then, without a word, he stepped aside and jerked his head toward the inside of the house. I walked in, heart thudding, and set the brownies down on the kitchen island like they were a peace offering. Which, in a way, they were.

Joel leaned against the counter across from me, arms crossed, looking like a man trying not to lose his patience.

“Well?” he asked. “You gonna explain that little bomb you just dropped or what?”

I nodded. “I went to the doctor a few weeks ago. Fertility tests. Results weren’t great blah blah blah. I don’t have a lot of time. My options are basically: try now or never try at all.”

His brow furrowed. “You don’t got family or-”

“No. No partner. No close guy friends. I’m not on great terms with my exes. One turned out to be a drug dealer, the other realized he was gay. So yeah. That’s my romantic résumé.”

Joel didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile. He just kept staring, eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to see the endgame.

“I thought about donors,” I went on, “but I don’t want to go that route. I wanted to know who it is. I wanted to choose. And I started thinking about who I knew that was… I don’t know. Stable. Decent. Someone who takes care of his kid and doesn’t flake out on responsibilities.”

"Okay."

I looked up at him. “I thought about you.”

His mouth pulled into a hard line. “You and I don’t even know each other.”

“I know.” I shrugged. “We don’t have to. We don’t have to change anything. Sarah never has to know. No custody, no co-parenting, no holidays together. Once I’m pregnant, that’s it. We can go back to pretending we don’t exist to each other.”

He let out a short breath through his nose. “That’s the most fucked-up compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s a business arrangement.”

He went quiet again, staring down at the counter, then back up at me. “You serious? You’d really wanna have a kid with someone you don't even know?”

I held his gaze. “Joel, I’m not asking you to raise it. I’m asking you to help me have it.”

Another beat of silence. Then he pushed off the counter, rubbed the back of his neck, and looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his boot.

“This is fuckin' insane,” he muttered, "and you're crazy for suggestin' it."

I opened my mouth to argue but then he sighed.

"I need some time to think it over."

I felt relief. I felt terror and underneath it all I felt something else. Something warm. 

He turned toward the hallway like it physically pained him to agree. 

"But next time you go asking for a favour you mind leaving the walnuts out of the baking? Sarah hates em."

--

The next few days were hell.

I went back home that night clutching the brownie plate like a fool, convinced I’d imagined the whole thing, convinced the second Joel shut the door, he’d immediately blocked the memory of my deranged little proposal and burned the dish out back for good measure.

He didn’t stop by. No follow-up. Just business as usual: his truck rumbling in the morning, the occasional grunt as we crossed paths checking mail. If anything, he seemed *more* chill, like I hadn’t asked him for his DNA and a lifetime of potential child support avoidance.

Meanwhile, I was an anxious, hormonal mess. I took my prenatal vitamins like it was a religious ritual. I tracked my cycle obsessively. I read way too many message boards filled with acronyms I didn’t understand. OPK, DPO, TTC. It was like trying to decode CIA files while crying over a fertility smoothie.

I avoided looking directly at Joel. It felt like the neighbours could sense something had shifted. Mrs. Phelps next door could see the tension radiating off me while I watered my plants in a forced display of normalcy.

It had been four days. I’d nearly made peace with the fact that he was ghosting me the neighbourly way, silently, but with judgment, when there was a knock at my door.

Joel stood there holding a six-pack.

I blinked. “You’re either here to accept or reject me with alcohol, and I genuinely don’t know which one I’m rooting for.”

His mouth twitched. “I thought about it.”

I stepped aside, silently inviting him in. “And?”

“I’ll do it. But we’re settin’ some damn ground rules.”

We sat across from each other on my couch, both nursing a beer, a notepad between us. My ovulation tracker app had just sent a cheerful push notification: TODAY’S THE DAY! GO MAKE A BABY! It felt obscene.

There was a notebook on my lap and my pen poised to take notes.

Joel cleared his throat. “Rule one: this doesn’t make us friends.”

I nodded. “Of course not. That’d be ridiculous.”

“Rule two: this stays private. No one finds out. Not Sarah, not my brother, not that nosy bat across the street with binoculars.”

“Agreed. We don’t even wave at each other in public.”

He took a long sip of beer. “Rule three: this is just about the baby. No weird emotional crap. No cuddlin’. No talkin’ about our childhoods or whatever.”

“God, no,” I said. “Gross.”

We both reached for another beer. "So how do you wanna do this? I go to some fertility clinic?"

"No. Too expensive," I told him shaking my head. “We do it the old-fashioned way. Turkey baster."

"Turkey ba- you mean those things you use at Thanksgiving?" 

"Yep."

"Well that's that holiday ruined."

I rolled my eyes and took another long sip of my beer. Joel did the same. "It’ll be efficient. Clinical. Emotionless and hopefully, effective. And above all, free.”

He gave me a long look, and I didn’t dare ask what he was thinking.

"I'm ovulating tonight so it's actually perfect," I explained showing him my app. "I got a new turkey baster yesterday in case you said yes." 

Joel took a long pull from his beer, and then looked over at me like he was trying to x-ray my skull.

“You could’ve just asked me to hang out, you know," he said. "We didn’t have to jump straight to parenthood.”

“Please. You would’ve said no just to be difficult.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But I would’ve thought about it.”

That sat between us for a beat too long.

“You know,” he said, tone casual in a way that definitely wasn’t, “I keep wonderin' why it had to be me.”

I rolled my eyes and sank deeper into the couch. “We already went over this.”

“No, you gave me some vague reasoning,” he said, pointing his bottle at me. "You said you wanted someone stable n’ decent. Someone who takes care of his kid and doesn’t flake out on responsibilities.”

"Yeah. So?"

"That could apply to half the single guys on this block. Hell, Jesse a few houses down runs marathons and makes his own hummus. Why not him?"

“Because I've never spoken to him. Plus if I have a child that willingly runs marathons I'll kill myself." 

Joel smirked. “Fair.” He didn’t drop it, though. Didn’t look away. He needed more of the truth.

I busied myself peeling the label off my bottle. “I didn’t want a stranger. I wanted someone... consistent. Someone who wouldn’t ghost or suddenly try to get joint custody.”

“So naturally you picked your least favourite neighbour.”

“Exactly.”

Joel leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But that’s the thing. We weren’t friends. We barely spoke unless it was to argue over parking or your mystery garbage smell.”

“That was your garbage, and we both know it.”

He shrugged like it was ancient history. Then his voice dropped a notch, still teasing, but a little more curious.

“So what made you look at me and think, ‘Yes, that’s the man whose DNA I want in my uterus’?”

I choked a little on my beer. “Oh my God, Joel.”

“I’m just saying. Seems like a leap.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. He was smug, sure, but under that was something else. A question he maybe wasn’t ready to admit he wanted the answer to.

"I see you with Sarah. You're kind and gentle. You make her laugh. And she adores you. She's funny and quick and beautiful and I guess I figured you're the kind of man that makes children like that."

I thought I saw sheen to his eyes but that might just be the blur from the alcohol. How many have we had? Regardless I couldn’t read his face and I needed to break the tension.

“And,” I added, taking another sip, “if the kid inherits your eyes, that’s just a bonus.”

"The truth comes out." Joel’s mouth twitched. “So you think I'm hot.”

“No, I think your eyes are pretty. The rest of you is a human disaster.”

He chuckled, leaning back again. “Fair enough.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt full. Like we were both hearing everything we hadn’t said yet.

"Well what if I have some bad family history? What if you do? What if our kid has some terrible allergy and..."

I tuned the rest of what he was saying out because a little thrill went up my spine when he said our kid. Not the our part of course, the fact that we could be making a real, live child tonight. 

"Does anything bad run in your family? Illness? A taste for human flesh?"

Joel chuckled, a warm rich sound. "Allergic to bees. Dad died of cancer at ninety or ninety one. Can't remember exactly. How about you?"

"No allergies. Parents died in a car crash so we'll never know." 

Joel looked like he was going to say something to me. One of those annoying platitudes that are given when an awkward topic is brought up. Instead he just nodded and drained the rest of his beer while I reached for the notepad on the coffee table and waved it like a shield.

“Okay, back to the ground rules,” I said, voice a little too bright. “Number four, no weird emotional entanglements.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘weird.’”

“Like this conversation.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

Somewhere after the fourth beer, we decided to move onto something stronger. Maybe it was the nerves from the topic, but Joel was keen on the idea. But turns out I've got a heavy hand when it comes to pouring whiskey.  

"Number sssixteen," I said slurring, my own wobbly. "The baby shower will not have embarrassing gamessss!" 

"Yeah!" Joel insisted loudly, equally tipsy. "No diaper games! We had thossse at Sarah's baby shower and I hated em."

"Deal," I said, my pen scratching the paper. Then we clinked glasses, shouting cheers and throwing back the amber liquid. 

"Amber," I murmured as I thought as I looked at the glass. 

"No gem names," Joel said with a sour face. "And no stupid names like Willow-Branch," Joel said with squinty eyes. 

"But what about my great aunt Willow-Branch?" I hiccupped. "She'll be devastated to know her name won't live on." 

At this we both started giggling. Well, I giggled and Joel chuckled. Loudly. 

"Okay we'll make an exception for your aunt." 

By rule twenty five, I was lying sideways on the couch, my legs slung over Joel’s lap, both of us slack-jawed with drunken exhaustion.

"I think that's all of the rules," I mumbled, feeling tired. 

"Did you write down what I said about ear piercing?"

I looked at the notepad. "Yep. Not until she or he is at least twelve." 

Joel glanced down at me, blinking slowly. "Are you falling asleep?" 

I didn't reply, just grunted a little as my eyes shut. 

“Wait. We were supposed to do it tonight, weren’t we? The turkey cup?”

I nodded, barely upright. “Perfectly timed ovulation.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

I yawned. “We're really bad at this.”

Joel didn’t reply. He just reached for the throw blanket on the armrest, tugged it over both of us like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I don’t remember who fell asleep first

[revelboo]

In your drift fic and seeing drift is happy that reader is mad at him and smiling, while his human is not and pissed off lol

Ratchet is also not pleased by this, which is making the situation worse. My boy drift what've you done 😔

He’s trying his best to take care of reader, but tends to neglect caring that much for himself. I figure he and Ratchet aren’t quite together, yet.

Sure! I think I can use the mass post editor after work tonight to add the valveplug tag to everything. Just figured out my little 🌶️ emoji is searchable. That’s going to make this so much easier 🤣 I’ll get that stuff tagged with valveplug, but it’s going to take me a bit and I’ve got another 8 hour class today. But fair warning, all of what I write has those elements crop up eventually- I write spicy storylines and scenarios. I do write fluff, but I also write a lot of risqué stuff

The Samurai Code Pt 10

Drift x Reader

• “Can you undo what he did?” You ask, ignoring Drift to glare at Ratchet. Will undoing it leave you slowly dying again? Or was whatever he did enough to permanently cure you? And you smack at his servo without any real heat when Drift tries to run it down your arm. You’re still trying to reconcile the things you’d seen while tangled in him. His guilty need to make amends, his life all right there for you to live and you’d gotten the impression that he’s ancient. To him your life is a moment, it’s nothing.

• “The only way to remove a partial bond is by fully bonding another bot and having them shred the old bond,” Ratchet growls, exhausted with both of you, because whole it’s doable, it’s taboo. And traumatic. Turning his stare on Drift as the bot tries to touch you again and he knows that’s the bond. Needing to touch you, be near you. Eventually to claim all of you. “Do you have any idea how long a human lives?” He demands and the other bot glances at you, but you won’t meet his optics, jaw clenching. Do you know how long they live then? Had you gotten that from the bond?

• “A couple thousand years?” He hazards, servos brushing your spine and you allow it. Allow him to touch you and it eases some of that need spangling through him. Had never really imagined taking a bond mate. Definitely not an organic one, but he doesn’t regret what he did. That he’d saved a life instead of taking it. Your shoulders hunch slightly under his touch. He’ll try to make you happy. Try to take care of you. And it’ll be nice to not be alone, optics lifting to Ratchet, there’s a moment of disconnect. Of a path that he’d been just starting to walk and now he’s pretty sure that choice is lost. Likes the irritable medic, his temper and attitude sparking through him. But it’s not like Ratchet liked him in return.

• “Eighty or ninety years,” you whisper at the same time Ratchet snarls ‘a vorn.’ And Drift just looks from you to the medic. “So you can’t ever do that again,” you add, voice gentle. “If you fully bond to me by accident, you’ll die when I do, won’t you?” And he’s silent staring at you like he can’t believe how short your life is compared to his. Hate that even as you’re furious at him for doing it even though you’d told him no, that you’re also so thankful you want to breakdown crying. Because you didn’t want to die out here far from home.

• Swearing softly, Ratchet slumps back in his chair, head back. And Drift can’t stop staring at you. He’d seen all of you while bonding with you, seen that you’re nothing like he is, that you’re good. Knows he shouldn’t want to claim you fully, to tarnish your brightness with his darkness. But a selfish part of him wants to lose himself in that light, to pretend that he’s only Drift that Deadlock never was. “The bond needs to be replenished regularly or you’ll grow weaker,” he manages. Not a lie. Less than a vorn then to make up for his sins. No time at all, but he’s lived a long time anyway. And looking at Ratchet, regrets hums through him.

Previous

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[daxisyzz]

I keep thinking Diamond Boy by SZA could be the basis for a great Bucky fic, if for no other reason than the lines "You make my thoughts stop/You make being me less hard" are SO Bucky coded

And I'm also obsessed with the Deluxe SOS and listening to it in my car on my commute every day

BUT I feel like you could do something sweet and fluffy with it that I would love to see!

Hope you like it<3 lemme know

Diamond Boy

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You don’t know how to explain it, but around Bucky, everything inside you quiets. At 2 a.m. by the pool, you finally let yourself lean into it.

Word count: 708

Warnings and tags: kinda song fic, comfort, feeling safe with Bucky, fluff, talks about no sleep, he makes you feel yourself.

The compound is quiet at night.

You like it best that way—when the lights dim and the weight of the world slips off your shoulders for just a moment. The chaos fades. Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. But you… you’re out here again. Barefoot, wearing a comfy hoodie and shorts, legs swinging over the edge of the pool.

The water glows soft blue under the surface lights, and the cool air kisses your skin in a way that makes you feel like maybe, maybe—you’ll be okay.

You close your eyes and lean back on your palms, letting your head tilt up to the sky. The stars are out tonight. Not that you’re really looking.

You don’t hear him at first. Just the shift of weight on concrete. The soft sound of water sloshing.

Then: “You always sit out here this late?”

You don’t startle. You knew he’d come. He always does.

“Only when I can’t sleep,” you say, turning just enough to see him in your periphery.

Bucky. Loose gray sweatpants, black T-shirt clinging to him like it missed his jacket. His metal arm glints faintly in the moonlight. His eyes—not blue like water, but like winter air—land on yours and don’t waver.

He joins you without another word, settling beside you on the edge of the pool with a quiet groan as his muscles stretch.

You like this part. When he doesn’t ask questions. When he just is. The silence that settles between you isn’t heavy. It never is with him. It’s full, somehow. It feels like… being seen without needing to explain anything.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” you ask, after a long minute.

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to be in my head.”

Yeah. You get that.

You glance at him, and even in the low light, you can see it—he’s tired. Not just physically. It’s in his eyes, in his posture, in the way he rolls his shoulders like he’s trying to loosen more than tension. Like he’s trying to breathe a little easier. You know that feeling.

“I like this,” you say softly. “Being here. With you.”

He looks at you again, this time with a flicker of something warmer.

“Feels… real,” you add. “Like the rest of the world shuts up when we’re out here.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers. “I like it too.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“You don’t talk like this with anyone else,” he says.

You chuckle, self-conscious. “You make it easier.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Your throat tightens slightly, but you speak anyway. “You make being me less hard.”

His brow furrows. Not with confusion—with care.

You keep going, barely above a whisper now. “All day, I’m bracing. For the next task, the next reaction, the next expectation. Even when no one’s asking anything, I feel like I’m carrying everything. But when I’m with you…”

You look at him fully now. “You’re the only person I don’t feel like I have to earn peace from.”

Bucky doesn’t speak for a moment. His face softens in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I didn’t know anyone thought of me like that,” he says quietly.

You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing his metal wrist gently. He doesn’t flinch.

“You don’t have to try so hard either, you know.”

He exhales—like he’s been holding his breath all night—and shifts just enough that your knees bump. He lets his hand slide over yours, linking your fingers, thumb sweeping over your knuckle slowly.

“Whenever I think it’s all too much,” he murmurs, “I end up looking for you.”

Your heart skips. You don’t know what to say to that. But maybe you don’t have to. Maybe sitting here, leaning into each other with the world asleep around you, says everything.

You rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the top of it.

You don’t say anything else.

You don’t need to ask what this is or where it’s going.

It’s enough—this late-night softness, this shared quiet.

And for the first time in a long time, being you doesn’t feel like a burden.

Because Bucky’s here. And in this after-hours stillness, everything that hurts fades just enough to let you breathe again.

[berryispunk]

Midnight Miles

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: phone sex, dirty talk, male masturbation, praise (Frankie deserves that too), semi established relationship, pwp and little bit of feelings

summary: A late-night phone call turns into something hotter and far more intimate than expected, leaving Frankie aching for you in more ways than one.

notes: Maybe it's becoming a tradition that I write some filth for Frankie Friday at this point 😉

word count: 1,5 k

Nights away from home stretch endlessly without you. Frankie used to think he was fine on his own—used to fall asleep in silence without missing a thing. But then you came along, and now he feels half-alive without the weight of you beside him. It hadn’t been that long, really. Just a few months. But somehow, you’d carved yourself into him like you'd always been there. Whether he's up in the air or stuck in another shitty layover motel, you're all he thinks about.

Tonight, the bed is too small, the springs too loud, the walls too thin. He groans as he sinks into the mattress, feeling like some lovesick teenager again—his body restless, already aching in all the familiar ways.

He rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes until color blooms behind his lids, and then—like you could feel it across the distance—his phone buzzes.

Your name lights up the screen and he answers immediately.

“Hey, baby,” you purr, voice thick with mischief and warmth. All honey and God, it hits him right in the gut.

“How’s the motel? Haunted yet?”

He chuckles, eyes drifting over the ugly wallpaper, the flickering lamp. “Nah, not this one. But I wouldn’t mind if it was. At least then I wouldn’t be alone.”

You go soft for a second, just long enough for it to squeeze at his chest. “You okay?”

He should lie. He should play it cool. But all he can think about is the way you sound when you’re under him—breathless, whimpering his name as you hook your legs around his waist, begging for more, taking him deeper. Don’t stop, Frankie—

He runs a hand down his face, guilt and desire tangling together as the heat in him rises.

“I just… miss you,” he says, voice low.

You hum, a quiet laugh curling at the edges. “Me or my pussy?”

He huffs a breath, the corner of his mouth tipping into that lopsided smile you always say makes your knees weak. “Both. But right now?” He shifts against the mattress, already too hard to hide it. “Probably more the second.”

“Oh?” you say sweetly. “That’s good. I’m not wearing panties.”

He freezes. Swallows hard. “What?”

“Just your shirt you left here. No panties,” you add, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“Fuck…” he exhales, his cock already straining against the thin cotton of his boxers.

You wait, letting the tension settle, then ask in a near-whisper, “Tell me, Morales… what would you do if I were there right now?”

He drags in a breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’d start with your neck,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Kiss you soft. Slow. All the way down to those perfect tits—palming them, sucking your nipples until you're whining for more. Then down over that soft belly. I’d kiss your hips, make you wait just a second longer before I finally spread those pretty legs and taste you. Kissing your silky thighs, take my time until my mouth’s on your cunt.”

He pauses, breath catching.

“You already wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm-hm,” you hum, breathless and teasing.

“Tell me, mi amor,” he urges, voice strained.

“I’m so wet, Frankie,” you purr, like a temptation.

He can’t take it anymore. Shoves his boxers down, his cock already flushed and leaking.

“You touching yourself?” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe and it nearly undoes him.

He wraps a hand around himself, slow at first, just to feel the weight, the burn, the pressure. His chest rises and falls like he’s running. And still, your voice echoes in his ear, the only thing grounding him. His hand moves slowly at first, thumb dragging through the slick bead of pre-cum already glistening at the tip. He spreads it around the head with a low, broken sound in his throat that almost sounds like a sob but rougher, guttural.

"Shit…" he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb sweeps again, teasing himself like he imagines you would. It’s too much and not enough. His cock twitches in his grip, and he hisses when it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through his spine.

"You’re so sensitive tonight, baby," you murmur, voice thick and coaxing, like you know exactly what he’s doing. “Is that for me?”

“All for you,” he moans. “Only ever you.”

“Let me hear you stroke it, Frankie,” you whisper. “Slow, yeah? Grip it tight. Just like I would.”

He lets out a shaky breath and does what you say as his hand tightens, dragging along the length of him slow and steady, up and down. The slick sounds echo too loud in the quiet motel room, his breath catching with each pass over the flushed, weeping head.

“Fuck, I miss your mouth,” he says hoarsely. “Miss the way you look at me all innocent while you’re takin’ me in… God, the way you moan with your lips wrapped around me…”

You hum, wicked and warm. “You whimper for me like that in person, too. You remember?”

A sound tears from his throat—high, needy, half gasp, half fuck yes—and his hips jerk into his hand before he can stop himself. His mind’s working overtime now, filling in the blanks with memories of you on your knees, eyes wide and greedy.

“God—don’t say that,” he pleads, but it’s all for show. You know better.

“You sounded so pretty last time I sucked you off, baby,” you purr, breath catching like you’re just as worked up. “All those little noises you tried to hold back. And then when you begged me not to stop…”

You pause, inhale slow and shaky, like you’re playing it back in your head.

“My favorite sound in the world.”

Frankie whimpers—honest to God whimpers—and bites down on his knuckle to keep the motel walls from hearing just how badly you’ve unraveled him.

“Fuck, mi amor… please…”

“Please what, Frankie?” you whisper, voice all silk and sin. “Say it. What do you need?”

“I—” He grips his cock tighter, stroking faster now, chasing the high that’s already breathing down his neck. “Need you to keep talkin’. Tell me what to do. I need your voice—I need you.”

You fall quiet for just a second, and he can hear your breath catch—just once

“Stroke it faster, baby,” you murmur. “Imagine I’m sitting on top of you, dragging my hips against yours. You’d be so deep inside me. I’d ride you slowly, just how you like it. Make you watch me fall apart on your cock.”

He groans, raw and guttural, his neck flushed, his chest rising in quick, shallow breaths. “I’m gonna—mierda, I’m close.”

“I know,” you whisper, breathless now. “I can hear it. You gonna come for me, Frankie?”

“Yes, yes—I’m gonna—shit, baby, I’m gonna—” His voice fractures, sharp and unguarded, and then he moans deep, drawn-out and filthy, your name tangled into it like a prayer. 

The orgasm hits hard, crashing over him and stealing the air from his lungs. He spills into his hand, hot and messy, hips stuttering, his whole body trembling like he’s been struck by lightning and left gasping in the aftermath.

You’re quiet, still catching your breath on the other end—soft, sated, and real.

“Good boy,” you whisper, tender and smug and all his.

Frankie groans, dragging a hand through his hair, chest still rising and falling. “Made a mess of myself,” he mutters, voice thick. “In every sense of the word.”

You snicker breathless but not cruel. “Wish I could see it, you’re so pretty when you come,” you say softly, voice all velvet.

“Jesus,” he laughs, half in awe, half in disbelief. “Didn’t think anyone would ever say that to me.”

“What a shame,” you murmur. “Because it’s true.”

He reaches for tissues from the nightstand, cleaning himself up with a quiet sigh, eyes still pink around the edges. Everything feels raw, but in that good way. The kind that makes you feel alive.

“You good ?” you ask gently. It’s usually his line, he’s the one checking in.

“Yeah,” he says, honest. “Better than I was a few minutes ago.”

“Only a few more days,” you whisper. “And then you’re home. And I swear, we’re not leaving my bed for three days straight.”

He laughs, low and warm. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says, tossing the tissue into the bin across the room without even looking—and landing it.

You go quiet for a moment, and when you speak again, your voice is softer, almost uncertain. Like you're afraid to say too much. “I miss you too.”

It lands in his chest like an arrow, but not a painful one. Just deep.

He exhales slowly, eyes tracing the cracked motel ceiling. “Counting down the hours. Be good for me, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” you say, and he can hear the faint creak of your bed as you settle in deeper. He’d give anything to be beside you, pulling you close, bury his face against your neck and breathe you in until the world stops spinning.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice soft and gravelly, the one he saves just for you.

“Goodnight, handsome. Dream of me,” you yawn.

“Always.”

He ends the call, sets the phone down beside him, and stares above.

The ache’s still there but it’s quieter now. More like a low hum under his skin.

Like love, or something dangerously close to it.

thanks for reading 💌

main masterlist

tags: @speaktothehandpeasants @sxnnimoon @harriedandharassed @kungfucapslock @felix-enthusiast @bergamote-catsandbooks @kakiki3 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @whirlwindrider29 @cuteanimalmama @christinamadsen @sheepdogchick3 @brittmb115 @greenwitchfromthewoods @diabaroxa @glycerinrivers @carmillahepburn @copperhalfcent @beaniebailey @thepilatesprincess @axshadows @kirsteng42 @joelsgoodgirl @ellenmunn @matchalov3 @canadianfangirl-95 @picketniffler @hotforpedro @noovaarq @theanothersherlockian @littleluc @76bookworm76 @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @wheatmaze @rav3n-pascal22 @picketniffler @lostinmyownmaze @misstokyo7love @pasc4lfuzz @cheekychaos28 @perodjarin

[mscherub]

Hey there ! Hope you have a great day/afternoon/night.

I was wondering if you could write how floyd, rook and jamil would react to a reader that is caring and playful but can be stubborn and impulsive when frustrated or angry, acting on her strong will without always thinking ahead.

You can add things if you feel like it too 😉

Thanks ❤️

Hey, my lovely! I love the idea of this because like this describes my personality so well!!! (Squealing and just happy cause of the request <3)

Anyways, I tried, and I took long because you unfortunately caught me on a bad week that was filled with nothing but stress for me and no motivation to write, BUT I GOT IT OUT NOW, LIKE A WEEK LATER—

If it’s bad, I apologize I was kinda out of it while writing 🥲

(Nothin against u, my lovely, I love everyone who requests something I just…I was busssyyyyy, but it’s ok, I’m getting back into the groove. AHH ENOUGH YAPPING—)

Stubborn then Sweet

Reader is gender neutral, Romantic or Platonic, you pick!

Characters!: Floyd, Rook, and Jamil

Tags!: Headcanons plus short fics <3

Warnings!: Swearing, my writing 😔

Floyd 🫧:

Caring and playful nature:

Finds your caring nature funny and odd, especially when it's targeted towards someone like him out of all people

It's just so cute when little Shrimpy tries to calm him down when he's in one of his moods himself, and he can't help but actually find it helpful to wind down with it

He likes that he can go to you and just blab on about whatever and bug you, and you’ll actually listen. He craves it, so— welp, he’s all over you

And you can be playful too on top of that? You're number 3 on his list for favorite people…Jade and Azul are obviously before you

He likes to play pranks on you, and you do them back, it's mutual with your emotions sometimes and it's nice for Floyd. He rarely ever feels bored with you

You give up so many things for him. Don’t you know that’s a sort of weakness Shrimpy? Fine. I guess he’ll just have to protect you and always be around you

(Rip you)

Ticked off mood:

Finds it funny how impulsive you get. It's really entertaining to watch someone who was just scolding him for being so reckless to then being reckless yourself. It’s like you two share moods swings or something

But now you’re in a mood…so now he’s also in a mood. Domino effect. Shrimpy’s mad, then so is Floyd. Just how it works 🤷‍♀️

He’ll be ticked off with you over whatever it is, unless you’re mad at him, then he’ll just be all snarky back at you.

If you two even attempt to interact in your little moody fits, then they’ll be filled with yelling and bickering galore

You will always have to resolve a situation, but Floyd will eventually give in since you do make him happy

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Mmmm, Shrimpy!” Floyd singsongs as he comes into the lounge of Ramshackle, completely uninvited. You jump and look up from your papers you were working on, giving him a look that conveyed something on the lines of “the hell are you doing here?”

You could tell he was bored already, his demeanor not being too hard to decipher. He walks over to you and flops down on the couch, wrapping his arms around and squeezing.

“I’m bored. Let’s go beat some people up for Azul. It’d be fun!” He murmurs against your shoulder. “You can just watch. But it’s more fun if you’re there.”

“Not now, Floyd. Not ever really. If people owe Azul money you don’t have to beta them up...plus I have…homework.” You sigh out as his arms constrict you even more.

“What? You always have time for me. Cmonnnn, for me? You’ll make me cry, Shrimpy.” He pouts and nuzzles his head against yours.

You’ve had this homework for about a week. You’ve been pushing it off for other tasks you needed to get done and him annoying now was not helping one bit with getting it out of sight and out of mind.

“Not today. Aren’t you supposed to work a shift?” You grumble, your hands going to his arms and trying to pry him off of you.

“Yes. But I don’t feel like it. I came all this way and you’re trying to kick me out? You’re so boooorrriiiinggggg.” He huffs.

You turn your head to look at him. “Look. I don’t have time for this. I need to get my work done. You can go and take your ass somewhere else so I can have peace and quiet to do this!”

He’s stunned for a second, then he smiles. “Aweee, looky, why are you so mad? You can just do it another time—“

“Floyd. Leave. Get out of here. I. Have. Shit. To. Do.” You say sternly, finally managing to wiggle out of his arms.

Bickering and insults are thrown back and forth and he eventually goes quiet. He huffs and glares at you as he walks out, his feet stamping against the ground.

You can’t help but feel bad for what you did, you felt like you went maybe a bit too far, so after you finished your work, you decided to swing by Octavinelle and apologize.

He whines about how unfair it all was, but he accepts your apology. He gets it in a way.

You’re stuck with him for the rest of the time now. Have fun.

“Shrimpy. You’re so silly.”

Rook 🏹:

Caring and playful nature:

Well, he finds it quiet enjoyable to say the least

He loves the attention you give him and how you almost baby him in a way. It’s just adorable and also beautiful in its own ways

That sweet look you give him makes him swoon right on the spot. You’re truly a work of art in his eyes, dare he say that you have just a tad bit of shine to you that Vil has to him. He means it, even if it sounds harsh…

If he pops up out of nowhere, you gently scold him and tell him don’t do that, then you go and look him over before deeming he’s alright

He finds you attentiveness to his well being peculiar but he appreciates it so much. Guess what, he finds that so beautiful, obviously

But what is this? You dare try and be coy right back at him, a hunter? Now he’s even more immersed

You try and get back at him for frightening you sometimes, trying to cross his path and pop out of nowhere like he seamlessly does

He finds it just so cute

Ticked off mood:

Cue the many “Ou la la’s!” He’s surprised by your “outbursts”

But, he does find them quite endearing to watch play out, especially if they’re targeted towards him. The pray appears to be mad…

He likes to see this side of you as well like the creep he is and he thinks it’s just as beautiful, or perhaps even more with that spark in your eye and you acting on your will without even thinking of the consequences

You’re so unrefined in this state, so out of it, the true testament to beauty—

He loves it. Lives for it. Provokes it out of you more so then Floyd would, believe it or not

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You’re just causally walking back to class with Grim, well, Grim is yapping away about certain mundane topics that are particularly bothering him more so today than any other day.

It’s annoying, the unceasing whining spilling from his mouth, but you’re fine! Just ignore him then maybe he’ll shut up…or he’ll talk louder. Guess he’ll do that.

“Grimmy, look, as much as I care for you, I honestly really don’t care for—“

Rook just appears basically from thin air and smiles wide. You lock eyes with him and let out a yelp as you back up and trip over an uneven tile in the pathway.

Rook, being him, catches you, but you smack him away and yell at him, spitting out strings of curses and insults.

“What the fuck?! Why did you do that? Get off of me you stupid— I hate you!” You huff as you manage to finally stand up and glare at him.

His smirk falters ever so slightly as his gaze on you softens. You knew you mate have said some bad things just because of that.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You just…scared the absolute shit out of me. Did I hit you too hard? Please tell me if I did? I didn’t mean it I promise. I just got scared, and I was distracted and in my head—“ your attitude switches up almost instantly.

Rook l lives for this, though, the way your honeyed words just stream out. It’s too beautiful! And the way you apologizes to earnestly! Ahhh, makes him just swoon!

“Hey…are you ok?”

“Why, of course, Trickster.” He smiles even more brightly now. “My apologizes for frightening you so. That was not my intention, though that burst of passionate emotion was absolutely beauté! Magnifique!” He chuckles and keeps strict eye contact with you that’s actually pretty unsettling.

“Sure…thanks? So…you’re ok?”

“Splendid, Prefect.”

You nod your head and give him a small glare before you look back at Grim who’s cowering behind a bench, his ears flattened and his tail swaying as he also glares heavily at Rook.

“Yea…ok then. I’ll see ya later, Rook. Be safe.”

“Such caring ways. Your personality is truly gorgeous.”

Jamil 🐍:

Caring and playful nature:

This is oddly new for him at least, I mean isn’t he supposed to be the one who’s supposed to care. Sure it may be fabricated some most, but this is awkward…

He loves it though, secretly, the way that you check in on him and offer to help with all his duties. He eats it the fuck up

But there’s also this nagging feeling that he shouldn’t have your care or worry, like he’s not deserving of it. But, like mentioned, he enjoys it

He thinks you’re too caring in some ways and it ticks him off sometimes. He can carry himself, he has been, so lay off a bit for the future

But don’t stop…

you like to be playful. What? Does he have another Kalim? Sevens bless him if you try anything

He isn’t quite fond of your playful side in hindsight, but he’ll warm up to it since you do it because it means you’re just acting the way you do when you’re relaxed

He’ll let it slide

Ticked off mood:

He’s actually irked a little by the switch ups and he’s not so fond of them. He mainly tries to be perfect as to not make people mad so he’s kinda confused as to why you’re being like that, especially if that anger is targeted towards him

I mainly think he wouldn’t do anything to make you mad— besides overworking himself…

He’ll basically just try to avoid you

He doesn’t care that much or find your outbursts amusing like the others maybe do, thus why he just tries to avoid you and stay clear of your path if he’s not the one the emotions are directed to

If he is the one you’re mad at…he’ll just try and deescalate the situation, possibly make it worse with snippy comebacks, or just completely up and ignore you. One of those options, if not all three, he’ll do

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Jamil!”

He tenses up, his back muscles going taught as he stops stirring whatever he was cooking in the large pot at the moment. You burst through the kitchen doors, phone held in one hand as you finally take a breath in to calm your nerves.

“Why does Kalim keep spamming me about how you haven’t been doing well? Look I’m just…the calls are annoying. So what’s going on? Mind explaining.” You huff. Your shoes click against the linoleum tiles of the kitchen as you take a spot next to him. You lean against the counter and cross your arms.

Jamil has been overworking…again. But that’s not really anything new. You’ve tried to school his habits before but to no avail, it’s like it’s engraved into him or something. Kalim isn’t really helping all that much. One time he overheard a conversation between you and Jamil and he’s been informing you every time he notices something odd and or off with Jamil.

“Kalim was literally blowing up my phone. Y’know, if you took care of yourself a bit better than maybe I wouldn’t be spammed when Kalim sees you even yawn.” You narrow your eyes at him, your gaze critical.

“That’s not my fault. If you didn’t bring it up in the first place around him he wouldn’t be doing anything. You’re pointing fingers at the wrong person.” He hisses back, giving you and equal glare back.

You let out a puff of air and let your shoulders slump forwards. “Sorry. Look, I care. A lot. And I may get mad but…just put in a little more effort here to just stay alive a bit better each day.” You murmur.

Jamil’s gaze dies down and softens into a ponderous look as he puts all his attention back to the pot that’s steaming.

“You shouldn’t care.”

“But I do…”

“It’s kinda stupid. I can carry my own just fine. Calm down. You’re just overreacting over something so little.” He shakes his head.

“Everyone needs a little help every now and then. I’m just…kindly reminding you.” You shrug.

“If bursting in here and blaming me for Kalim being a nuisance is a “friendly reminder,” then I’m scared to see what other things you’ve got to say.” He sighs.

“Don’t get all smart with me. You know what I meant. Anyways…seriously. Save both of our asses here. Just go to sleep a bit earlier than usual. It’ll make a difference.” You smile at him fondly, that look he’s grown to have a love hate relationship with.

He rolls his eyes and finally lets his muscles destress. “You’re so stupid it’s sickening.”

“Well, at least I’m stupid enough to care.”

WAHHH, hey, how’s it going. I’m done. Feel like I got off track a bit with Jamil’s, but oh well, THANKS FOR READING AS ALWAYS <333

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[strawberry-nugget]

Chapter 2 // prev. chapter

~Technically this should be your fresh start. Moving to Japan as a single mom and getting a regular job, living the peaceful life you've always wanted. But trouble finds you in every corner, taking either the form of those weird monstrous things you catch in a blurry half gaze ocassionally, or of that extremely hot single dad, whose son, Megumi is friends with your daughter.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, canon divergence, single parents au!, slow burn(ish), car sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, handjobs (yes while driving), creampies, kinda sleazy Toji, reader can see curses, drifting

Word Count: 9,9k

It’s been a week since he came to your house.

The days stretch long, hot, and quiet. Toji hasn’t texted again. Not a meme, not a dad joke, not even an accidental thumbs-up reaction to his own message so you can convince yourself he checks maniacally for a response as much as you want to give him one.

Still, it’s only ever just that single message from the other night staring at you from behind the screen. The one he dropped between you like a match and walked away before it could catch fire.

You figure something must’ve come up. Probably Megumi—maybe he got a cold, or got that dreadful stomach flu that’s been going around that you are praying your daughter doesn’t get as well.

With the way your engine has been growling this whole week, you’d die if you had Mai-Mai cry over her tummy hurting too.

Today, the evening settles in with a haze of humidity and burnt orange sky. You’re under the hood of your car, determined to find the reason behind the weird sounds your engine’s been making—sounds you’re now convinced are from that fucked up gas you filled it up with last week.

Your tank top clings to your back, sticky and damp, your arms streaked in grease, your collarbone darkened with fingerprints of oil and sweat. Your hair’s pulled back but messy, a few strands curling against your temples, and your hands are wrist-deep in wires and metal.

You find yourself thinking about it—the text—as the air thickens and your fingers search for problems in the guts of your car. You’d let it sit too long. That’s what happens when someone like him sends you something so casual, so simple, and you don’t know how to answer without sounding like you’re choking on your own anticipation.

Next time I see you, you better show me how you drift.

He didn’t even add a smiley face. Just that low, heavy suggestion sitting at the bottom of your chat like a weight.

Maybe if you busy yourself enough, you won’t keep replaying his voice in your head. The way he said your name—rough and warm, like it meant something. The soft rasp of it, half-dragged over a laugh. And that look he gave you, like you were a question he was dying to answer with his hands.

It shouldn’t get to you. It’s your own thoughts, you tell yourself. Your imagination going wild. If he’s so casual to be like this with you an hour into knowing you then…He’s probably like that with every woman. Probably doesn’t even remember what he texted. Probably didn’t think twice about the way he leaned too close or brushed your fingers when he handed you his phone or offered to help with getting Mai-Mai into your car like it was instinct.

Still.

Still, you feel him like a pressure behind your ribs. Still, your stomach twists when you think about the way he looked at you up and down.

Now, with sweat beading along your spine and your hands sore, you don’t expect anything except maybe a cold shower and a frozen dinner, if you’re lucky enough.

Luck has always been a weird concept to you though. Maybe it’s that weird manifestation thing you’ve realised you can do, or it’s that gut feeling that something’s bound to happen if you keep thinking about it because there’s no other way you can explain how on earth he runs into you in your backstreet.

For all that's worth it— you hear him before you see him.

It’s like he’s already making a habit out of creeping up on you when you’re bent over your car.

For a prideful moment, you convince yourself he’s just drawn to your ass; then you shove that thought away like a bunched up paper in a trash bin. Like he can’t be.

But you can’t help it—the awareness is instant. Your spine straightens a little, the drag of your fingers slows in the engine, and your mouth goes dry before he even says a word. You tell yourself to be cool. Which works about as well as it usually does.

“Didn’t know you were working on her tonight,” he says, voice low and curved with something unreadable.

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t say hey, doesn’t greet you in a normal way at all, like the two of you are way past that even if it’s just the second time you're seeing each other.

Quick — how do you talk to someone whom you’ve practically ghosted?

You don’t look up right away. Let him wait. Let him see you wipe the sweat from your brow with the back of your wrist, grease smearing your temple. You know you look fucked up, even feel how gross you might look or smell but at least you’re trying to convince yourself you can make it look even a tad bit sexy.

You turn, slow, like you’re not internally vibrating as you are met with the sight of him in a shirt that hugs his frame like it was born there, baggy sweatpants —you ignore the crocs, so you don’t laugh in his face about them and because his biceps look like they’re about to burst. So much that it serves as a great distraction.

“Didn’t plan to,” you say, casual. Careful not too be not too much “She was whining again. Thought I’d check the belts.”

He’s closer now. Arms crossed, weight leaned into one hip, eyes flicking between the hood and the tank top clinging to your ribs. You feel the heat of his stare like a spotlight.

“And? Find anything?” 

“I think it’s the gas I put in it yesterday. So much for trying to get the cheaper choice. I should have known better”

You wipe your palms onto the sides of your cargos at that, turning to fully focus on him. A bead of sweat runs down your chest and he catches it with his eyes, like it’d ever escape him. 

It’s too soon to make such a bold move as to reach his hand and wipe it off—or worse, lick it. The sight punches something low in his gut, drags his attention from the smudge on your neck to the way your fingers curl around your tools with muscle memory. Like you belong there. Like this whole scene belongs on a magazine spread labeled.

“Problem?” You look like you’d just smirk from under your lashes.

“You sure it’s the car that’s whining?” he asks, and there’s that smirk again, like he’s already tasted the silence that follows.

You tilt your head. “You calling me dramatic?”

He almost turns around. Raises both his hands in the air in surrender.

He’s not proud of the part of him that wants to watch you longer, silent, soaking in the view like it’s his business. But he clears his throat and steps into your clear line of sight.

You look up, and he sees it—that flicker in your eyes. The flash of surprise. You cover it quick, but he catches it. Just like he catches the way your jaw tightens. Like you’re mad at yourself for hoping he’d show up.

That's exactly when he knows, he’s got you right where he wants. 

“God, you’re a piece of work, ain't you?”

You shoot him a look that lands somewhere between annoyed and amused. Exactly where he likes to keep you. 

The ball is yours now to shoot.

And you do—only not in the way he expects.

“Haven’t seen you and Megumi all week, is everything alright?”

“He's been feeling under the weather, you know how four year olds catch a bug and suddenly you’re canceling your whole life to wipe noses and warm soup.”

You nod, trying not to show too much relief, or worse—interest. But it’s already out there, raw and embarrassing. The truth is you’ve been wondering. Not just because you’ve missed the kid’s giggles echoing through your living room or the way Toji has that infuriating ability to take up space without asking—but because you care.

“You didn’t tell me” you say, softer now, wiping your hands on your cargos again just for something to do. 

Toji tilts his head. He doesn’t look sorry. Not exactly. But there’s something in the way his gaze narrows, like he’s reading more out of your words than you meant to give.

“Didn’t think you missed me that much.”

You roll your eyes so fast you almost give yourself a headache. “Mai-Mai missed Megumi.”

He hums. “Suuuuure.”

There’s a beat. You’re still half-under the hood, half-exposed to the dying heat of the sun, and Toji’s leaning closer now, like your little denial just fed him instead of shut him down. He taps one knuckle against the frame of the car like he needs something to do with his hands, like he’s trying to anchor himself.

Toji lets out a slow breath. Then, almost too casually, “You know, you could’ve texted too.”

You peek at him from under your arm. “Yeah. I… didn’t know if I should.”

“I texted you first”

“That you did”

“And I hate waiting” he smirks again, pushing past that unspeakable and invisible barrier that should be between you and him -an almost stranger- “you gonna show me how you drift or what?”

You like it— the way he catches you off guard and pushes in closer with just words. And even though he doesn’t say it, he likes seeing you like this too—raw, annoyed, sweat-slicked and glowing in the burn of the sun— it does something to him he’s not ready to unpack, but will, nevertheless.

You ponder about it for a moment. The thought of you showing off how you drift to him, that is.

It’s Friday, there absolutely should be a place in the heart of Tokyo to drift, one of those usual get-togethers that you went to during the week and the idea of winning a drift race, getting money and impressing Toji is too mouth watering. However it’s also illegal. And you can only waste too much of your luck once a week.

Then again, now that you’ve planted this idea in your own head it’s hard to let go of it.

“Well I could-“

“Atta girl” he says and interrupts you, but you don’t wield this simply.

“-tonight.”

Toji blinks at you.

“My sister came to visit so she can watch Mai-Mai, if you can find someone to watch your Megumi” you say “I’ll shower, get ready and I’ll pick you up. And please by love of god, lose the crocs. These guys are gonna eat you up”

Toji snorts, shoulders shaking just a little with the kind of laugh he only lets slip when something really amuses him. You’ve got him aaaaall wrong. But he doesn’t mind, because you are way more readable than you think.

“Didn’t know you cared about my fashion choices,” he says, half-teasing, half-testing. “You trying to get me to impress anyone?”

You blink, mouth parting, but nothing comes out except the faintest uhhh. He grins, like he’s won something you didn’t know you were playing for.

“Thought so,” he mutters, then straightens up and stretches like he’s got all the time in the world, like you didn’t just invite him into a part of your life most people never see. Not just the drifting, but the in-between. The sweat and grease and dumb jokes. The space where he could, if he’s careful, belong.

“Alright then,” he says, nodding, looking just smug enough to be annoying. “I’ll see if the neighbor kid’s mom can take Gumi for a few hours.”

“Great,” you reply, with more bite than grace. “Try not to show up in pajamas.”

Suddenly you find out that keeping this teasing tone between you and him suits the tone and nature of your relationship.

“Can’t make promises, sweetheart.”

You flip him off without even looking, already halfway back under the hood to hide your face.

But Toji just walks away, steps slow, deliberate—grinning like a fucking bastard the whole time. Because tonight, you’re going to show him what that car can do. And he’s going to see exactly how far you’ll go to win. Maybe even how far you’ll go for him.

_____

You pull up outside of his apartment just past nine, the engine a low purr under your seat as you lean an elbow against the window frame. The street is quiet, lights dim and flickering over the cracked pavement, but your car is anything but subtle tonight—cleaned until it gleams under the yellow and orange street lamps, tires still warm from the tension of anticipation.

You text once. 

Well, at least it’s not double texting since he did send you his address after you messaged him asking for it.

You: I’m outside. Don’t take ten years.

A minute later, the front door opens and he steps out, hands in his pockets, wearing the same black compression shirt from before, silver chain catching the light around his neck and fortunately he's made the effort to pair his top with dark , baggy jeans. His hair’s pushed back like he didn’t try too hard, but the second his eyes land on you—really see you—he stops in his tracks.

Because, well yeah, maybe you went a little overboard. Black halter crop top, tight across your ribs open all over your chest, breasts all pushed by just how tight it is, a denim skirt, belt buckle winking like a challenge. Brown leather jacket draped over the back of your seat and matching cowboy boots, lips glossed just enough to look like trouble. 

You’re not even trying to seduce him—at least, you tell yourself that—but there’s something about the way he just stands there, smirking like you’ve already stepped into his trap, that makes your pulse skip.

He opens the passenger side door slowly, leans down just a little, eyes dragging over you as if he’s reading a fucking manual.

“Well, shit.”

You glance over at him, feigning innocence. “Something wrong?”

He huffs a low laugh, gets in, shuts the door.

“Nah,” he says, adjusting his seat in need of a distraction. “Just didn’t know I was gettin’ picked up by a Bond girl.”

You roll your eyes and turn the key, shifting into gear. “Thought I told you to ditch the Crocs.”

He wiggles his foot, now covered in dark sneakers. “I listened. Proud of me?”

“Hmm, yeah yeah” you pout.

But your voice has a rasp to it now, tight in your throat. Because he keeps looking at you—up and down, like he’s taking inventory. Like he can’t decide whether to whistle or bite.

Well, if you were trying to seduce him, you would have loved the way he decides to bite his lip and shakes his head in amusement as he slides into your passenger seat.

“You dress like that for the crowd,” he says, casually, “or for me?”

“I dress like this for me,” you answer, trying to keep your tone flat, steady. But you know he knows it’s a lie. Or at least, not the whole truth.

Uh-oh, he’s onto you.

“Huh,” he says, dragging the syllable out as he settles deeper into the seat, getting too comfortable as he eyes you up and down “So it just happens to be my lucky night, then?”

You don’t reply. Not right away.

But your hand shifts on the wheel. Tightens just a little. Your nails dig into your palm.

And Toji sees it.

He grins like a man who’s just seen the river card fall in his favor.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he says, voice low and continues before he cuts off his own self with a laugh “If you drive like you look tonight… I might actually-”

You snort under your breath, cheeks hot, heart hammering and finally, you turn the keys into the ignition.

___

The city swells around your car in waves of neon and engine growls, headlights slicing through alleys that don’t belong on any map. You’re driving fast enough to make the suspension whisper, but smooth enough not to jostle Toji in the passenger seat—he hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, which is impressive considering he’d been side-eyeing your outfit since he stepped out of the house.

Now, he’s sprawled in your passenger seat like he owns the damn thing—legs open, one knee bouncing, hand tapping against the door in slow, rhythmic thuds, the other resting over his knee. You catch him watching the skyline blur out of the corner of your eye, a faint grin tugging at his mouth like he’s already five steps ahead of wherever you’re going.

“You always take your first dates through a construction zone?” he asks, voice gravelly amused.

You scoff. “This ain’t a date.”

“Mmh,” he hums, not arguing, just letting it hang there between you.

The alley opens.

And there it is.

A rooftop lot that pulses with life—part underground haven, part holy ground. The air here tastes like exhaust and trouble, music pounding from subwoofers stacked on milk crates. Floodlights cut sharp shadows over every cracked patch of asphalt, every spray of tire-burned circles. Hoods are popped. Boots are up. Eyes are watching.

Toji lets out a low whistle and leans forward, elbow on his knee. “You brought me to a damn Fast and Furious reboot,” he says, sounding more entertained than scared.

Your mouth opens and shuts once. You’re tasting how sweet your lipgloss is, smell your perfume—you definitely look the part he states. But….You didn’t do it for him. 

You didn’t.

In retrospect, maybe you shouldn’t have brought him to such an illegal place, you barely even know him and you’ve got a whole kid in a foreign country that ideally, you wouldn’t want to get deported from and you still don’t know if you can trust him and yet as if he reads your mind, Toji chuckles low. 

“Relax. I ain’t judging. Just… surprised you’d bring me here.” His voice dips, almost amused. “Place like this? It’s dangerous.”

You glance at him sideways, engine now idling low. “Thought you liked danger.”

That gets you a sharp look, quick and loaded. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he nods toward the starting line where two modded imports finish a race with the stench of burning rubber curling behind them.

You pull into a spot off to the side and let the engine purr, hands still on the wheel, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek hard enough to cut through the delicate tissue.

You smirk, awkwardly, keeping both hands on the wheel. “You said you hated waiting.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna take me to a pit of unpaid parking tickets.”

You don’t answer—just pull into your usual corner spot, not too far from the start line. You slide the car into park, engine still humming beneath the hood, and finally glance at him. He looks like he belongs here without even trying—black jacket draped open (how did you never notice he was holding one in the first place is behind you), dark eyes roaming the crowd like he’s already assessing which of these men are too drunk to bet against you.

As your usual ritual requests, you just have to open the hood of your car for the world to see. You eye Toji, signaling him to get out of the car and push the button to open your hood before grabbing the door handle.

You step out into the night, a little adrenaline already licking up your spine. The pavement is warm under your boots, and the air’s thick with engine smoke and sweat. Familiar faces nod your way. Some cheer. One girl whistles.

“You judging my taste in extracurriculars?” You mutter, bending over your open hood, this time saving Toji from sparing him a glance to catch him red handed. You’re too sure he’s looking.

Toji shrugs. “Nah. I’m impressed.”

But the attention Toji draws is different. Curious. Appraising. Some of the other drivers clearly don’t know what to make of him because they’ve never seen him before, and you know that smirk on his face well enough by now—he’s enjoying it.

Someone approaches. A guy in a muscle tee, cocky and slow, eyes flicking from you to Toji. “He your spotter or something?”

“She’s my ride,” Toji says smoothly, before you can open your mouth and your face purses in sourness.

The guy pauses.

And you—deadpan—just raise your brows. “I’m driving. He’s observing.”

Then when the guy shoos away, scared of the death stares by the both of you; you say it.

“I’m gonna race.”

Toji’s brow ticks up. “Yeah?”

You don’t look at him, eyes on the lineup. “I know these guys. They’ll throw down good money if they think they can smoke me.”

A pause. You feel it when he shifts, weight turning just slightly toward you.

“You think you can take them?”

“Oh…” You smile, lips dry. “I know I can.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he clicks his tongue. “Now this I wanna see.”

You wave the marshal over with two fingers, voice steady even as your stomach tightens. “One round, cash in hand. You want drama, I’ll give you smoke.” He nods, even smiles at you and mutters something about being happy to have you back and gives you a playful pat across your shoulder.

“Now we wait” you turn to Toji, who cocks an eyebrow at you, too nonchalant to ask ‘what’.

“See how much people bet”

Something in his gaze darkens. Like he’s found his next betting addiction.

To anyone betting money on you or your car, Toji’s presence is oil on fire.

He doesn’t say anything, not right away—just leans back against your car with his arms crossed over his chest, that lazy, dangerous grin playing at his mouth like he’s more comfortable in this chaos than anyone else. A cigarette dangles between his fingers, untouched. Like he lit it just to pass the time, not because he wanted to smoke. He doesn’t even look at the other guys. Doesn’t have to. They’re already looking at him.

And not kindly.

You hear one mutter behind you, “Who’s the suit?”

Toji catches it, of course he does. Doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Just tips his head slightly in his direction.

“He your sponsor or your bodyguard?” someone else snickers. A guy you’ve smoked twice before, who always bets against you like it’s a personal mission when he’s not racing.

You don’t answer them. You just check your tire pressure again and pop the trunk for your helmet. But Toji… oh, he’s getting that look again. That glint that says he’s seconds away from doing something wicked.

“The helmet’s for you. You’re riding with me”

“Damn,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Should I be wearing a helmet?”

Toji smiles, then rushes into your car when the marshal announces the money price you asked for has finally been gathered.

The crowd’s grown louder by the time you line up. Neon strobes sweep across your dash as you adjust the mirrors, the lights stinging pink and green across Toji’s face. He doesn’t say anything. Just watches you with that sharp, too-aware stare while he’s trying to figure out what exactly you’re made of.

Your opponent rolls up beside you in a lowered RX-7, a veilside one, but it just doesn’t look like yours, decals crawling across the hood, the engine guttural and twitchy.

“Great,” you mutter. “Another twitchy trust fund kid.”

Toji laughs once, low in his throat. “You nervous?”

You tap your fingers on the gearshift. “Not about the race… try not to flinch Pa-”

Toji stills.

Then he smirks, slow and crooked. “I'm not that old now Ma, huh?”

The flag drops before you can even fire back.

You floor it.

The tires shriek, the rear kicks, and the force yanks both your shoulders into the seat as the car surges forward. You’ve done this a hundred times before—breathed this heat, kissed this speed—but something about having Toji beside you, cool and wordless, changes the pulse of the air. Every move you make, he’s watching. Not the road. You. 

Your helmet stands on the floor between his legs and he. doesn’t. flinch. he doesn’t even blink. Like he’s felt this speed and energy before.

That eerie feeling about him is back again.

The second you slam the clutch and whip the wheel, tires screeching, he grins.

It’s not  just any grin.

That feral, toothy thing you’ve only seen from gamblers mid-win or men about to do something stupid.

The first turn comes hard and fast, and you ease into the drift like your body’s stitched into the machine—tires skimming the paint of the barricade, smoke curling behind you like a signature. The RX-7 is just a breath behind, but your line is tighter, smoother.

Another turn comes ahead.

You take the turn tighter than you should. The back fishtails and you catch it clean, body jolting with the force—and he’s laughing. Actually laughing.

“Holy shit,” he says “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Well I did just meet you” you remind him

You can feel the way Toji shifts, not afraid—interested. The corner of your eye catches the way he presses one palm flat to the dash, not because he’s bracing. But because he’s feeling it.

“Are you betting?” you call over the engine.

He grins. “Didn’t have to. You’re already paying me back in full.”

You take the next two curves without thinking, pure muscle memory, slicing through Tokyo’s underbelly like it’s yours to conquer. The final stretch is a blur of lights and screaming engines and one wrong move from chaos.

There’s smoke everywhere and that unpleasant smell of tires melting and merging with the street underneath.

But you don’t miss.

You cross the finish line three seconds ahead from what you had originally counted. And your opponent, distracted by it, crashes the tail of his car, earning the crowd’s distress—Toji’s too.

You win. 

Clean.

The moment the tires screech to a stop, the crowd explodes behind you—cheers, catcalls, people slapping bills into open palms like they can’t believe they lost.

And Toji?

He whistles low, looking at you the whole time. You don’t let him speak, set on pumping a punchline at him. Show off.

You bite back a grin, eyes still on the crowd gathered around your car. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Then he leans in, close enough that his breath slides across your cheek.

“I knew you were a menace,” he says again, voice low and warm.

You grin, still panting, still burning.

But behind his smile—behind the praise—you’re  too naive to see the glint of something darker, something sharper.

A man doing math.

A man realizing just how dangerous and efficient you are when you drive.

And exactly how much he could make off that danger.

____

By the time things have settled down, it’s late. The kind of late where the air gets thick and sticky and makes everything feel a little slower, a little dirtier. The crowd’s thinning out—just the die-hards and the degenerate hangers-on now, loitering with smokes and plastic cups of warm beer.

It’s fine— you like warm beer anyway. But Toji doesn’t; he sets off to fetch two fresh, ice cold cups that you insist are your treat and gets lost in the crowd.

You’re parked under a flickering garage-like light in the back corner of the lot, hood popped open again. The engine’s still ticking as it cools after you’ve spent so much time revving it just for the tired to smoke out, to show off and you’re leaning over it with a wrench in hand, half your weight on one arm, your top clinging to the small of your back. A blotch of grease, smeared across your shoulder looks war paint. You look like the problem, and maybe that’s why someone decides to try you.

You hear the voice before you see him.

“Nice ride,” he says, like he owns the ground you’re standing on. A hand reaches out—dumb and slow—to tap the inside of your engine bay like it’s a vending machine he just fed a coin. “Whatchu say I race you for it and have it towed to me?”

You don’t even look. Just smack his hand away with the flat end of your wrench. Not hard. Not soft either.

“Touch it again,” you say calmly, “and you’ll be the one getting towed.”

He flinches, more from the tone than the contact. “Jesus, it’s just a car.”

You look up then, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. And you’re just a guy. Can’t win even if you tried, pick your battles, king”

He stumbles back with a half-muttered insult and disappears into the night, 

Toji sees all of it from a few feet away, where he’s busy getting cornered by someone -still holding your cups of beer, mind you- while she’s trying way too hard to be interesting. She’s cute, objectively. Tight dress, loud laugh, hands that keep brushing his bicep like they’re gonna conjure something.

And he’s being polite. You hate that he’s being polite. He came here with you, not to smile at strangers in a parking lot.

You remember that saying, that you lose someone the way you find them and something low burns in your throat. It doesn’t have a name, but it’s mean. Ferocious. The same kind of energy you get when a guy tries to overtake you on a drift without earning it.

You wipe your hands on a rag and stomp over, uninvited, the heels of your boots clicking in the loud way you’d normally hate. But here, in this place, it doesn’t fucking matter. The louder, the better.

“Hey, babe,” you say to Toji, sweet as antifreeze. Grabbing your beer from his palm, you loop your arm through his, lean into his shoulder like you’ve been doing it for years, even rub your cheek against his bicep. “You left your phone in the car. Thought maybe you were gonna disappear on me.”

Toji blinks, just once. Then he smiles—slow and wicked, realising what game you’re playing and deciding to raise you, play along.

“Thanks, doll,” he says, playing along instantly. Arm sliding around your waist, fingers settling a little lower than they should, the tap on the clothed skin under your ribs once, twice, thrice. Just enough to be mouthwatering “Didn’t mean to get caught up.”

The girl’s eyes narrow. “Oh. Sorry—I didn’t know you were—”

“You didn’t,” you cut in, unkind, sipping on some of your beer before smiling at her “But now you do.”

She excuses herself fast, face tight, heels clicking back toward the shadows she came from.

Toji turns toward you, still holding on like it’s just the natural thing to do, even if your head shoots away from his shoulder instantly.

“Babe?” he repeats, amused.

Oh you want him.

You shrug, trying to play it off like your heart isn’t doing acrobatics in your ribcage. “I panicked.”

“That was hot,” he says plainly. “You got a little mean in you.”

You pull back just enough to see the look on his face. Half impressed, half something else you don’t wanna name. You simply sip on some more of your beer.

“Don’t get used to it,” you say. “You can’t survive here if you ain’t mean”

Toji hums like he agrees, but his eyes haven’t left yours—not really. He lifts his beer and clinks the rim of it lightly against yours, like a toast without words. You both drink in sync, long pulls that drain half the cup in one go. It goes down easy, sharp and cold, numbing the edges of whatever that little scene stirred up between you.

“Let’s get outta here,” you say after a beat, voice low, head tipping toward the lot’s exit. 

“Before I start a fight just to watch you finish it.” 

Toji jokes, but you don’t need convincing in this setting. The heat’s still clinging to your back, sweat drying sticky beneath your tank top, grease on your skin catching the green light of the overhead bulb like armor. You’re tired, wired, and suddenly hyper aware of how close Toji is walking beside you.

Of course you’d give him anything he asks for right now.

However, you’ve got a daughter at home, no need to get tougher and end up with a new set of mugshots.

Toji just grins, like he can read your mind again, drinking the rest of his beer like he’s hot nothing to apologise about. Like he knows you would pick a fight for him.

By the time you toss the empty cups into a trash barrel and slide into your car, the lot’s almost dead. Only the die-hards remain, arguing over borrowed tires and split winnings. Toji settles into the passenger seat like he’s done it a hundred times, arm slung lazily over the back of your seat. His thigh brushes yours when you shift gears. Neither of you mention it.

The engine rumbles to life with a low, satisfied growl.

You’re halfway back to your place, cutting through city streets that still buzz with leftover adrenaline. The windows are cracked, the cool night air threading through sweat-slicked skin. Your hands are still loose on the wheel, fingers flexing now and then, like your body hasn’t figured out the race is over, like you’re drifting still for the final price.

Toji’s in the passenger seat, silent in that way of his. Not tense, not uncomfortable—just… watching. Legs spread like he owns the floor space. Arm braced against the door. He glances over every so often, and every so often you feel it burn into the side of your face.

You let him smoke inside your car and you do too, silently, only asking for his lighter every now and then.

You pull up to a red light. One of those long ones, the kind that sits forever like it’s waiting for something to happen. Toji exhales slowly. And you take it as a sign he’s trying not to say something.

You cut a look at him, not letting it slide. “What?”

“Nothing….You’re a good driver.”

You scoff. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He hums, lazy. “You get cocky when you win.”

“You get quiet when you want something.”

That earns you a look. A real one. And he turns in his seat, just a little, so he’s angled toward you more than the road.

The light is still red.

And your fingers are tightening slightly on the wheel, but your chest is stupidly loud. Stupidly full. You expect the next moment like you knew it would happen the second you chose that good tasting lip gloss.

Toji reaches over—slow, deliberate—and brushes a stray piece of hair from your cheek with the tips of his fingers and slides across the underline of your jawline. Doesn’t say anything. Just lets his fingers rest there, at the middle of your chin, light as breath. He’s giving you a chance to stop him, when he knows you won’t.

You don’t.

He leans in. Not fast, not hesitant either. Just sure.

You meet him halfway.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy and warm, your lips a little dry despite the lip gloss, the center console pressing awkwardly into your ribs—but none of it matters. 

It’s his hand coming up to cradle your jaw, it’s the taste of the night still clinging to both of you, the ash and spice and sugar from juice boxes and late dinners. It’s heat that doesn’t come from the engine.

His lips press hungrily against yours, dangerously, fuelled with the intention to bruise as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth the second he feels you try to pull back.

He bites down, hard enough to draw blood and smiles against your lips when you pull back.

The light turns green.

You don’t move. The road is empty anyway. You simply kiss him again, more fiercely than how you initially did and Toji knows—he knows he calculated right. So he kisses you softer, pressing his face into you, his nose bunching as it collides with your cheek.

Toji breaks first, resting his forehead against yours. Breathing heavier than before. “Shit,” he mutters. “You taste so good, you’re gonna get me in trouble.”

You blink, trying not to smile from your nervousness. You’re flustered and taken aback.

He laughs under his breath.

And when you drive off again, neither of you say much—but your hand stays close to the gearshift, and his stays a little too close to yours.

The city hums low outside, golden streetlights stretching across the windshield like molten wire. Your hand shifts gears, heart hammering like you’re still at the start line of a race. Toji hasn’t leaned all the way back yet—still angled toward you, one arm draped over his seat like he might reach for you again, if the car hits another red light.

But you don’t stop this time. You keep driving, one hand firm on the wheel, the other resting just close enough to his thigh that your pinky keeps brushing the denim of his jeans every time you shift. Neither of you talk. It’s thick in the air now—this thing, this pull.

He finally breaks the silence. Quiet. Low.

“I’ve got an idea”

You huff, trying to play it cool even though your chest feels like it’s glowing. “Like what?”

Toji’s mouth curves into something crooked. He doesn’t ask if he can, doesn’t ask if he should, hell he doesn’t even keep any form of good manners as he shoves his foot out of the window, manspreads even further into your car and then turn to you. He runs his fingers down your neck and hisses, edging low, low, low to the v line of your halter top.

You gulp. Hands twitching on the gearshift and the steering wheel, sparing him a look. Partly because you're scared he’s going to leave a stamp of his shoe in your car, partly because whatever idea he has you know is wicked.

You’d be stupid not to see the bulge print between his legs. And you love the way he touches you smoothly, like water, as he trails his hand over your shoulder, your bicep.

“Gimme your hand” he mutters and you wish he was testing the waters but he isn’t. He snatches your hand, like it’s his to take. “Just tell me when to switch gears”

You don’t answer. You can’t—not without sounding like an idiot, and you’d rather crash this car than let him know just how much that kiss scrambled your thoughts. You shrug instead, eyes making an actual effort to stay on the road, not on his lap, where your hand stands as a prisoner.

He runs his fingers through yours, guides your hand between his legs and urges you to feel. What you’ve done to him. With acting badass, your outfit, the way you kissed him. The way you try to not make it obvious that you want him.

And just like he predicted, you rush. To untangle your fingers, try and work his zippers down, but he’s allowed you to think you’re dominant for way too long.

This is his territory now.

He squeezes your hand like it’s punishment and growls at you. Then he unbuckles his belt and his trousers come shortly after, he takes your hand again and turns his head to you so fast that you can’t help but look back, magnetised by what he’s going to do next.

Toji stares into your eyes and smirks before bringing your palm to his mouth and sticks his tongue out. You feel how hot and wet his breath is when he inches your hand closer and finally after gathering all the spit that’s in his mouth onto his tongue— he licks it.

He shoves your hand into his boxers so quick that you don’t even manage to notice when he even shifts the gearstick.

“Look at the state you’ve got me in.” His voice is raspy, his smirk widening as you feel his hot, hard length throbbing against your palm. “Move your hand” He demands, his voice leaving no room for arguing. “Now.”

His smirk turns into a full-blown grin as he watches you try to focus on driving while his hand guides yours along his length underneath his boxers. “Mhm? Keep driving then.” He challenges softly against your ear before nipping at it playfully.

You burn the next red light.

Your heart is palpitating everywhere in your body, pumping in adrenaline and save for feeling the excitement of fulfilling this dirty little fantasy you’ve always had, you convince yourself whatever’s happening right now is because Toji is pumping in adrenaline too. Be it from the race or that facade you had on. Maybe it’s even the fact that you called him baby, to save him from getting cornered by someone random.

Maybe you gave him the wrong impression. 

Or maybe you gave him the correct one.

Νο matter what you overthink, on your left, Toji throws his head back, laughing darkly as you keep driving, his hand moving your wrist in quick, jerky movements along his length. He’s so hard it’s almost painful, and the fact that you’re trying to focus on the road while he’s being jacked off is only making him harder.

He lets out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly as you continue to stroke him. He leans back in his seat, one hand gripping the gear stick tightly while the other guides your movements, until your hands entangle. 

"Fuck... keep going." His voice is strained, and he bites his lip to suppress another moan.

You feel it, how the hem of his boxers is getting wetter by the second. Your hand moves quick and rough, and unbeknownst to you it’s just how he likes it. He watches your profile, your expression as you drive. Lips pursed tight even if your lip gloss remains strained. 

He realizes you're good at multitasking– handling a car and jacking him off without causing an accident.

He spreads his legs wider unconsciously, giving you better access. His boxers are getting wetter and wetter with pre-cum. He watches your serious expression again– no smirk, just big doe eyes as you turn them over to his direction. Just driving and jacking him off like it's your job. He swallows hard. 

"Baby..." he says, just to jab, sharp, like a wasp.

“You're so fucking good at this." He admits quietly, hips bucking slightly against your hand. He's so hard that your hand can't even close in its own fist, precum leaking from his tip in thick ropes. You move your hand rhythmically, up and down in a hammering motion, thumb barely brushing his tip every few strokes "Keep… fuck, i love that, don’t stop" He orders, softly. 

His eyes roll back and the way you slam on the gas, serves as a promise not to stop.

You feel he's getting closer, as his breathing turns into shallow pants, his cock twitches in your hand. He can feel his balls tightening when he moves past your hand to grasp them; at that, his length throbs in your hand. 

He reaches out blindly with his free hand, grabbing onto your thigh tightly -so very tightly that you think it’s inhuman- as if anchoring himself. "Fuck... I'm gonna come..." He warns hoarsely.

You don’t answer him—not out loud, anyway. You just take the next turn off the main road, rip your hand off him so you can change the gear, tires skimming gravel as you pull into a side lot behind an old batting cage that’s been closed for years. 

Toji audibly protests at the lack of the warmth of your hand, but shuts up, the second you pull the e-break.

Wherever you even are, everything on sight is a wreck. The fence is half fallen, the floodlights dead, and it's only the view of the city that glitters over the rise like it was lit just for you.

You kill the engine, but neither of you move.

Toji raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning the dark lot and you unbuckle your seatbelt so fucking fast, he thinks you could outmatch his own speed.

You pounce onto him, feet moving faster than your brain just to straddle him and your hands wrap around his neck like it’s instinct.

"Oh fuck-" He gasps when you suddenly attack him, his back hitting the seat as you straddle him. His hands immediately go to your waist, gripping it tightly as he looks up at you with slant eyes. Aroused. 

You answer that look.

“You okay?” you ask, voice smaller than you mean for it to be.

He nods, once. Then leans in slow. Like he’s giving you the chance to stop him again. But when you touch your lips to his, you’re practically telling him you don’t want to stop him.

This time, the kiss is heavier. More certain. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek like he’s mapping the shape of your face. He tastes like spice and smoke and something sweeter —your lipgloss— as you’re pulling him closer, chests colliding against each other.

You grind your hips on him and the second you feel his throbbing cock catch your clit through your panties, a moan escapes you. 

You breathe in through your nose, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. It’s too much and not enough. His teeth graze your bottom lip and you hum into it, letting your hand slide up to his shoulder, just to feel the strength there, to anchor yourself before your body forgets it has a shape at all.

He pulls back only slightly, eyes half-lidded, his forehead brushing yours. His gaze fixated on the way your skirt has bunched up on your hips and his hands come, strong and firm to work you onto him.

You blink at him, lips parted. 

You moan but the sound never makes it to fruition— only because your mouth is too busy finding his again.

And in this quiet, empty lot, under a broken streetlight and the hum of the city beyond, you kiss Toji like you don’t care how complicated things will get. Like you don’t know him for a week, like it isn't your second time seeing him.

You’ll allow yourself to feel wanted, you’ll break the celibacy oath to yourself in shreds, You'll feel alright with actually participating into your new life in this new country.

Maybe for once, tonight doesn’t need to make sense. You’re allowed to want something just because it’s yours to want.

And right now, he’s all yours.

You don’t know how long you’re kissing him. Minutes? Hours? Your sense of time slips between the cracks of his hands, the press of his mouth, the warm pulse in your chest that keeps rising, higher and higher, like your body’s chasing something it doesn’t have words for.

Toji shifts closer, pushes further and suddenly there’s nowhere else to go. The center console might as well not exist with how he leans across it, hand skimming your thigh like he’s testing the weight of permission. You suck in a breath, every nerve in your leg lighting up under his palm.

He pauses.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice low. Rough around the edges. “If you want to.”

You don’t. You really, really don’t. But the way he asks—the fact that he does ask—hits you somewhere deep.

You shake your head. “Don’t stop”

That’s all he needs.

His hand squeezes lightly at your thigh before it starts to travel, slow, deliberate, like he’s relearning anatomy by feel. You arch slightly and suddenly you're met with the feeling of your dashboard on your back. 

Now that you're all cornered, he smirks, the pads of his fingers tracing a slow, ghostly line over the centre of your panties. You squirm at the teasing, yet as to make you suffer further, he presses his pointer finger flat onto your clit and moves left and right as agonisingly slow as he could.

You’ve never been one to plead, and you definitely can’t think of the right honorific to do it right now, but you squirm again and he knows what you want.

He pushes your panties to the side and fuck, even that is too hot because he did it.

“Fuuh- pretty pussy”

Your stomach flips. It shouldn’t be allowed, how his voice sounds like sin itself when it drops like that. You roll your hips just a little, testing as you grab both hands around his cock and urge it towards your slit. He catches the shift with a low noise in his throat.

He mutters softly, something almost inaudible, watching your hips roll experimentally. Surely, the hand he intended to grab around your throat grabs the base of his cock and pays no mind to your hold on him as he slaps his bulging head once, twice over your pushed open lips.

His smirk widens as he realizes how sensitive you are— how your body reacts to the smallest movements. He pushes your thighs wider apart with his knees, spreading you lewdly on the dashboard.

"Fucking hell..." He groans, his fingers tracing your entrance lightly before he pushes two fingers inside you. You're so wet that it's almost obscene, and he can't help but let out a low, appreciative noise. "You want my cock in here instead?"

He groans, low in his throat and fuck there’s a vein even there, watching you nod your head. He pulls down his pants as much as he can and he's already hard again. Harder than before, as if that's even physically possible. 

“Ma, speak up”

“It’s just, I’ve never” you stutter, words getting caught in your throat for what you’re about to say “I’ve never had sex in Japanese”

Toji clicks his tongue, an amused chuckle coming from his chest, he looks at the mess between his and your legs, how you’ve practically drenched his cock already with how wet you are and speaks “‘S fine, we don’t gotta talk”

He guides his tip to your entrance, pushing inside slightly, watching your reaction. "You okay?"

You nod—hum, whatever. You don’t even know how you respond, but somehow you do.

He pushes in, just barely below the tip before he decides this isn’t going to work if he doesn’t spread open your pussy, so he pushes out, gets his thumbs to work and pushes in again with a loud hiss.

When he tosses his head back, he's reminded he is in a car, with minimal space. 

Not that it’d stop him anyway.

He ruts into you slowly, giving you just a little time to adjust to that monstrous size of his before he bullies his cock all the way inside you with a smug smile. Whatever’s left of you that’s not spent, squirms.

You cry out slightly, claws scratching his shoulders, digging through the fabric of his shirt.

Toji groans, his hips moving faster. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours as he fucks harder into you with half thrusts.

"God, you're fucking squeezing me perfectly..." He grunts. And it’s the truth, your walls flutter and tighten around him with every single move and you're shaking, your legs are shaking when he hits that spongy spot inside you.

For a while there are fast, needy hands everywhere. Around your neck, through your hair, over the outline of your breasts and waist and squelching sounds fill the silence of the car until it’s no more there.

"You're going to make me come way too fast, you know that?" His lips brush your ear, words coming out despite his suggestion as he latches himself into the soft skin of your neck, not to suck, but to bite. His teeth sinking into your skin in synch of that numbing feeling his cock stirs in you.

You’re already whimpering in protest as he finally wraps his lips around the painful spot on the side of your neck, swiping his tongue around it in smoothing motions.

"How close are you?"

“Mhm-‘m not close yet." You pant and earn another deep chuckle.

Toji, spent on your words like it's personal now, reaches between your bodies instantly, his fingers finding your clit. He starts rubbing circles around it, matching the pace of his thrusts. "Better now?” He growls softly. 

You slur an inaudible ‘yes’ and then a ‘more’

"You're so fucking needy..." He hisses, his fingers picking up speed. 

He leans down to suck on your neck— no your collarbone, biting gently as he hammers his dick inside you harder, faster. And fuck, maybe it’s the pull of the moment and your dizzy head but you feel like your car might actually break with how hard his thrusts are.

You’re too far gone, drunk into this moment like your body won’t stop wanting more and more from him with every buck of his hips. You push back the splitting pain of his girth, past the sound of skin clapping on skin and Toji groans, his thumb pressing down on your clit as his fingers continue to circle it.

“‘S too good”

"Damn it..." He laughs softly, his hips snapping forward harder into you.

He feels just how sensitive you are there, so he hits that spot again and again and again. Fingers spreading your pussy lips apart slightly, giving him better access and rubbing your clit faster.

You like it more than you want to admit, you like being spread open and played with, you love the way he drags his tongue to whatever skin is exposed from your chest and this angle— it’s him hitting all the right spots all at once that makes that knot in your lower stomach tighten.

“Fuck, you're killing me..." He adds a third finger to your clit, pressing down hard, way too fast as he thrusts deep and holds himself there, grinding against you. "There it is... right fucking there..." His voice is strained as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

You don't even care to fix your face to make it sexy, make it appealing; your lips are open in the shape of an ‘o’, your eyes are closed and there’s surely a bead of sweat forming at the edge of your hairline, ready to run down your forehead.

And Toji thinks, with his eyes snapped wide open, that this is definitely a sight for sore eyes. You're just like he likes his girls. Raw, desperate. Chasing your release while being split on his cock.

He feels you clamp down around him and almost loses it completely, unable to even hold it for even a second. His hips start to jackhammer against yours as he moans against your chest, one hand coming to grab onto the hair at the base of your neck.

"That's it, fuck yes, come for me..." he orders —All the while, his fingers keep that perfect pressure on your clit, making your legs shake. He can feel you're there, before you even do.

He keeps his fingers moving on your clit, feeling your body convulse with pleasure as you come undone above him, hips spasming and thighs clenching hard enough for you to get cramps. Toji watches your face, eyes and mind mesmerized by the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“Goddamn..." He lets out a deep groan, one hand still grounding your hips way too harshly as his thrusts become faster, his hips loose at the feeling of drenching him, sogging his cock into you "Fuck...Fuck yeah..." 

He pulls out abruptly, making you gasp at the loss of being stuffed to the brick. He grabs his cock, and you widen your eyes at just how hard it is. You only watch, lazily and out of breath as he aligns his tip with your clit and starts jerking himself off quickly. His face contorts in an expression of pleasure similar to yours as he gets closer.

"Fuck..." He's barely holding back his own orgasm as he watches his cock head rub against you, messily parting your pussy lips with each slide.

Back and forth. Left and right.

If the sight of you coming was too much, if it burned like hell, then this? This is purgatory.

"I'm gonna " His breathing is ragged, he's moving between your folds faster, grabbing your hand to guide it through giving the last few strokes before release "You're making me- fuck! Im gonna cum"

It’s on cue after that. The way he moans betrays him, the way he lazily slows down his pace and pushes his hips so far up that your head collides with the roof of the car, the way he says that sudden, deep ‘fuuuuuck’, it all adds up to him, coming undone. Spurting hot strings of cum against your clit and your thighs, even the hem of your skirt and your side pulled panties.

Between heavy breaths, his eyes move down your body, where you're wet with his cum, your sleek and an excessive amount of sweat, watching as his cum drips down between your legs. 

"Fucking hell that was so good..." he sighs and slides a finger through the mess on your clit, making you flinch with oversensitivity, deciding to be a gentleman for a second and pull your panties back to their original place.

But truly— it’s just so he won’t get hard again after watching the mess he's made out of your pussy.

And then, gently, flustered and spent, while he's trying to catch his breath, he leans in to kiss your neck gently.

You don’t protest, being fucked out of your goddamn mind, as he pats your ass, giving you a little squeeze that is accompanied with a sinister chuckle, signaling you to get up.

He curses whatever demon possesses him to lean towards you, while buckling his pants closed, to peck you, especially because he catches you off guard– you don’t even manage to turn your head toward him when he catches the left corner of your mouth with his lips.

Your goddamn skin is too soft, too youthful. He wishes that side of his own mouth was as kissable as yours.

“This,” he says against your mouth, “this is exactly what I thought would happen when you showed up lookin’ like that.”

____

The ride back is quieter now that you’re all dressed neatly and into the driver’s seat, because you’re trying to ignore the actual ache of being split open, between your legs.

At least this silence– it’s simmering, not awkward. It’s the kind of quiet that hums with all the things neither of you are saying, thick with adrenaline and aftershocks and something else you don’t quite want to name.

Toji hasn’t spoken, touched you, or cracked a joke in five minutes, which might just be a record. He’s slouched in the passenger seat, one arm resting on the door, the other draped over his thigh, hand flexing like he’s still feeling the echo of your touch. His eyes keep flicking to you, sharp and unreadable.

You pull into his street, slowing to a crawl near the curb outside his building. The streetlight flickers above you, spilling just enough yellow light into the car to catch the sharp set of his jaw.

“Here we are” you announce, hand cradling the side of your face.

He doesn’t move to open the door.

Instead, he clears his throat and you can already  tell he’s thinking way too hard.

“Hey…” he starts and you glance over at him, laced with curiosity “Can I crash at yours tonight?”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

[ihni]

(On AO3 here)

~~~

Billy absolutely refuses to accept gifts.

This is annoying for several reasons, the main one being that giving little gifts to his boyfriend is one of Steve’s greatest joys in life. Or rather it would be, if said boyfriend would only shut up and take them. But oh no.

“What’s this shit, Harrington?”

Strange how Steve is always ‘Harrington’ when Billy is pissed.

Taking a deep breath, Steve prepares himself for the upcoming battle.

“It’s a shirt,” he says, simply, as if it’s obvious. Which it is.

“I can see that,” Billy says with disdain and holds the offending item out in front of him. “Why did I find it on my car seat?”

Here we go, Steve thinks. “Because I bought it for you,” he says, keeping his voice light. Before Billy can speak he adds, to make his intentions perfectly clear; “It’s a gift.”

Billy’s face twists into a grimace and the red fabric crinkles as he grips it in his fist. “I don’t need your charity, Harrington.”

“It’s not –“

“I can buy my own shirts.”

“I know, but –“

Billy pushes the shirt into Steve’s chest. “And anyway, I don’t want it.”

That is a blatant lie, and they both know it. Steve was with Billy at the mall and saw the way he looked at that shirt. Watched as he ran his fingers over the fabric, took the hanger off the rack, and then finally put it back, wincing, once he’d glanced at the price tag. Steve knows with one hundred percent certainty that this particular shirt is right up Billy’s alley and he knows that his boyfriend would love it, and wear it, and would have bought it himself if it had been cheaper.

But of course now, since Steve was the one who bought it, suddenly Billy doesn’t want it anymore. Because god forbid he accepts a goddamn gift from his boyfriend. Who can very well afford it by the way, thank you very much.

But while Steve thinks all of this, he doesn’t say any of it out loud. Because he knows that he’s not going to win this one. “Fine,” he says instead with a sigh, giving in. “I’ll return it.”

(He won’t. He’ll keep it, and then after long enough time has passed he’ll try to sneak it in among Billy’s belongings like it was always there, and hope it goes unnoticed. He’s succeeded before, twice, and that accomplishment may or may not have gone to his head. The back of his closet is now full of things meant for Billy.)

Anyway, this whole refusing-gifts thing. It’s annoying, is what it is, and it’s getting to be a problem. Spoiling the people closest to him has always been Steve’s way of showing that they’re important to him. And Billy is important – perhaps the most important.

Robin says that it’s a pride thing, and that Billy wants to prove that he’s independent – which is crazy, because he doesn’t have anything to prove to Steve. The guy moved out the same day he graduated, for fuck’s sake, into the shittiest little apartment Hawkins had to offer that he had somehow arranged to rent beforehand without telling anyone, and he’s currently working two jobs to be able to provide for himself and to save up for the future. He cleans his apartment when it’s needed, unashamedly goes to the laundromat once a week, and pays his own bills. No one with working eyes or ears can ever say that Billy Hargrove is not independent.

(Meanwhile, Steve is still living at home – but he’ll argue that his parents are so rarely there, so it’s almost like he’s living on his own – and is lucky enough that he doesn’t have to pay his own way. Which is just as well, really, because Family Video doesn’t actually pay that much. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Independence is, objectively, a good trait, but of course Billy doesn’t do anything in moderation. His stance on gifts has forced Steve to get … creative.

Once, when Steve had found the perfect present – a silver dagger earring with a tiny blue stone the exact color of Billy’s eyes – he didn’t even try to give it to him. He simply poked it through the hole in his pocket so that it fell to the asphalt when he walked ahead of Billy across the parking lot outside the dinner, and let Billy “find” it. Pretended to be disgusted as Billy excitedly picked it up from the ground and everything, even though on the inside, he was preening at Billy’s delight over his “find”.

See? Steve can be sneaky, when he wants to or when the situation demands it. And when it comes to showering his boyfriend with gifts, the situation definitely demands it.

Luckily, there is one thing that Billy will grudgingly accept even if he hasn’t bought it himself – one thing in the world that Steve can give him, that Billy won’t reject outright or start a fight about – and that thing is chocolate.

Expensive, luxury chocolate, to be specific. The kind that comes in golden paper boxes, or wrapped in cellophane, or packed in high-end tin containers with etched pictures of cities on the lid.

Billy won’t say no to a cheap chocolate bar bought at the gas station either, but that isn’t quite enough for Steve, who by now has a burning need to spoil Billy somehow. So, luxury chocolate it is.

It was an accident, when Steve first discovered this exception. Billy was spending the night – like he so often does when Steve’s parents aren’t home, because while he has his own place now, Steve’s bed is both more comfortable and big enough for the two of them – and they’d been bickering about what to make for dinner. Billy was cooking, because of course he was, and he’d been rifling through the cupboards looking for the fancy pasta when he’d emerged with a crinkled plastic bag that he’d apparently unearthed from the very back.

“What’s this?” he’d asked, frowning at the little brown lumps inside the bag.

Steve had taken one look at it and made a face. “Oh, chocolate biscotti. Mom bought them from Italy last year. Give me that, I’ll throw it out.”

Billy had looked positively offended at that, and cradled the bag to his chest. “Throw them out? Why?”

“Uh, because she bought them last year?”

That hadn’t seemed to deter Billy though, as he’d snuck one out of the bag and bit into it. Steve grimaced at the dry crunch of it, and took the opportunity to yank the bag out of his boyfriend’s hand while Billy was busy chewing and looking thoughtful.

“Disgusting,” Steve said as he threw the bag of stale old cookies into the trash can. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Billy had just grinned at him and thrown the last piece of biscotti into his mouth, eating that one too. Had even licked his lips, after, and eyed the trash can like he maybe wanted to try raiding it for more of the stale cookies. Steve was a good boyfriend though and hadn’t let him – had, in fact, distracted him quite competently – but he’d already seen the way Billy’s eyes lit up at the taste, and the next time he spoke with his mother, he asked if she would bring another bag home with her.

(She had been in France at the time, but she’d been happy to call the hotel she’d stayed at in Venice the last time she was there and arrange for a couple of bags of biscotti from the ‘cute little bakery down the street’ to be delivered halfway across the world, as well as bring back a veritable smorgasbord of baked treats from Paris.)

It was a game of trial and error for some time, while Steve tested his theory. Baked goods worked, although Billy seemed to favor cookies over buns and flaky things like croissants. Sweet flavors went over better than savory in general, which were hit and miss. But the real winner was the chocolate. All kinds, all flavors.

The first time Steve had brought out a box of chocolates (Swiss chocolate, purchased in France), he’d put it on the table during a Party movie night, for everyone to enjoy. (Billy rarely refused food when it was obviously meant to be shared, although he never ate anything until someone else had done so first.) It worked like a charm – under the cover of the dark and in the low light from the TV, Steve saw Billy reach for no less than five pieces of chocolate.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Steve had gotten two identical boxes of chocolate. Over the next couple of days, he sneakily filled up the first box with pieces from the second box, and made sure to leave it out on the table whenever Billy was over. And as it had been established to be a communal box of chocolates, Billy didn’t have any qualms about eating from it, which meant that Steve was repeatedly treated to the sight of Billy closing his eyes and smiling around a piece of chocolate, visibly enjoying each bite. It was a win-win; Billy got his sweets, and Steve got to provide for his impossible boyfriend.

Since then, Steve has made a point to ask his mother to bring home chocolate from all the places she visits, as well as ordered from several specialty shops outside Indiana. His mother is happy to provide, as she has always enjoyed shopping for the finer things in life. She no doubt thinks that Steve is using it to woo some girl.

Well, she is half right.

Steve thanks her every time she brings something home, and then he puts it away until his parents leave again, at which point he will come up with increasingly convoluted ways of making sure Billy gets to enjoy it.

“Oh, that? Yeah, mom brought it back from New York. I don’t really care for it, to be honest. It’s too sweet for me” and “My aunt gave this to me – her boss gave it to her for her birthday but like, she’s diabetic so she can’t eat it. You want it?” and “I don’t know why mom insists on buying sweets, she should know by now that I’m not big on them … But I don’t want to hurt her feelings, you know? So I just smile and accept them” and “I think I’m allergic. It’d be a shame to throw it out, though. You’d honestly be doing me a favor if you just took it with you.”

Billy, who is ordinarily too smart to fall for schemes like this, miraculously hasn’t caught on yet. (Or maybe he has, but plays along because deep down, he wants what Steve gives him. Steve prefers that theory.)

Of course, Steve has to continue his attempts of gifting his boyfriend with non-chocolate items as well, even though it’s mostly for show, because a) he doesn’t want Billy to catch on his strategy and also b) one of these days, he’ll get Billy to say yes.

He’ll wear him down soon, Steve is sure.

Until then, he’ll just feed Billy fancy treats and fill up the back of his wardrobe – maybe Billy will get a pretty red shirt for Christmas. It’d be rude, even for Billy, to refuse gifts on Christmas.

[artists-ally]

{Fake It Like You Love Me} Azriel x Reader x Xaden Riorson x Cassian

*slowly creeps up from the depths of hell* Heeeeeeeey, glad you guys remember I still exist 😭😭 First off, THANK YOU for 600 followers. That's insane and I don't deserve you all so thank you so fucking much. SECONDDDD, here is another part of my Fuck Away The Pain series!! Sorry this has taken me so long to do, but I think you for your patience. As always, let me know what you think and feel free to drop a request if you have any!!! Enjoy! Title and series inspired by this song.

Part 1: {Show Me Where It Hurts} Part 2: {Dirty Little Curse} these do not need to be read in order to be enjoyed!

Word Count: 7,630

Warnings: Smut. Like... an alarming amount of smut. ACOTAR x FOURTH WING, Dom/Sub, MMMF, use of the nicknames "pet" and "sir", oral (M and F receiving), pet play, degrading, praise kink, choking, spanking, cum eating, unprotected sex.

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain @thelov3lybookworm @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @agent-anna @blessthepizzaman @bubybubsters @highladyofterrasen7 @annabethgranger123 @acourtofbatboydreams @thatacotargirl @berryzxx @throneofsmut

Summary: It is just after the legendary snowball fight. Azriel, Cassian, Rhys and Xaden are in the sauna while you, Mor, and Feyre are inside the cabin. Once Rhys leaves, it seems that there is a vacant spot that needs to be filled.

~~~~~

“So, explain this to me again?”

“Every year, they have a snowball fight. They just keep going and going and going until there’s a winner,” Feyre explains. “This is the first time you and Xaden are here so I think they’re taking it easy.”

From off to the side of the cabin, we hear a shout and then a chorus of laughter. 

“Maybe not,” Mor says, peeking out the window. “Cassian just decked Riorson in the face.”

I giggled, sipping my warm tea and curling my legs under myself. “Probably made fun of Cassian’s hair or something. Called him a wet dog.”

“You know damn well that animal will come in here and shake like one too.”

“And after the sauna? Yuck, it’s going to smell for ages in here,” Mor shakes her head.

“The sauna?”

Both of them stop dead in their tracks, exchanging a knowing glance. Feyre looks at me with a twisted smirk. “You don’t know about the sauna?”

“Should I be afraid?” 

“Definitely,” Mor grins, setting down her cup. “After they get done, they all go into the sauna together.”

“Naked?” I dare to ask.

“Terribly so,” Feyre adds. “A few years ago, on my first trip to the cabin, I got Rhys kicked out because… well, he just couldn’t stop thinking of me.”

I damn near choked. Then I burst out laughing. I can imagine it. Rhys, Azriel and Cassian sitting in the sauna together. It must be some sort of rule they have. If one of them gets a little too hot and bothered, they’re out. But the thought of them all in there, Azriel and Xaden sweating… does some pretty magical things to my brain.

And the space between my thighs.

“Gods you are just as bad as they are, Yn,” Mor fake gags, coming to sit next to me. “Don’t get too excited. None of us have ever been in, and none of us ever will.”

“Really? That’s kind of shocking, honestly.” There hasn’t been one exception? “I know Cassian is a bit of a…”

“Male whore?” Mor fills in the blank. It makes me giggle. 

“I don’t quite know everyone well enough to make those assumptions, but Cassian definitely gives off a certain… aura.”

“Oh please, he’d take it as a compliment,” Mor smiles, playing with some of my loose hair. “But no, not even him. Now, what I cannot believe is how you ended up with both Az and Riorson. That is truly a work of art.”

I can’t help the smile that blooms onto my face. “Some are just more blessed than others.”

Feyre barks a laugh, “I’ll say. You got lucky with those two, you know.”

“I know. We’re not like– together together, but they take very good care of me. I honestly kind of like it. It's all the best parts of a relationship without having to worry about if everyone is getting enough attention. They give me what I need, and I give them what they need.”

“Have you ever asked for more? To be in a real relationship?” Mor asks, curiosity getting the best of her. Feyre smacks her in the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Don’t be insensitive,” the High Lady reprimands. 

“Don’t be silly,” I wave them off. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think that’s what I want. Sure, being in love is great and all, but why complicate it? We work flawlessly together right now, why change? If either of them brings it up, I’ll be open to the idea. But for right now I’m thriving. They are far too generous anyway. They constantly bring me gifts or invite me out to dinner. They’re doing enough for me. Far more than enough.” “Not to mention the world's best sex,” Mor wiggled her eyebrows at me. “What’s it like with the two of them? Are the rumors of the Illyrian true? What about Xaden, is he packing too? Gods I bet he is, isn’t he? Now, I am the last Fae in Prythian who’d want to be taken by two males, but… for the both of them? I might reconsider. Tell me, does Az-”

“Cauldron boil me,” Feyre sighs. “I’m getting a drink.”

“Ooh! Will you bring me-”

“No,” Feyre scolds, heading into the kitchen.

“Crony bitch.”

“I heard that!” Feyre shouts from the other room. 

Mor and I share a laugh, snuggling in close together. “This is so fun.”

“Isn’t it?” Mor says, “You’re always welcome back, Yn. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Az so relaxed. He looks… happy. And I can’t vouch for Riorson but he looks like he needs this too.”

“Yeah it’s been a stressful couple weeks for Xaden. There was a huge issue in his homeland and he nearly lost his life. His dragon is bonded to someone else in his squad, and her dragon almost died. It was scary. I’m just glad he’s okay. On the flight up here he was giving me all his strategies on how he was going to win.” There’s a loud cackle from outside and the sound of bodies running into each other. I looked over the back of the couch, seeing Xaden at the bottom of the pile, snow being shoveled into his face. “Guess they didn’t work so well.”

“They’re probably done now,” Mor explains.

“Sauna time?”

“Sauna time.”

The door opens and the four males clamber in, shaking snow from their hair and clothes. 

“I’m gonna get you back for that Rhys,” Xaden grins, evil intent behind those onyx eyes. 

“I’d like to see you try. Hey Mor, hi Yn. Where’s Feyre?” Rhys pats the top of Mor’s head, offering me a kind smile. 

“In the kitchen!” She calls, the High Lord following the sound of her voice. 

Cassian makes a b-line for the couch, shaking his head like a mutt. Mor squeals, I just shut my eyes and take the damage. When I open them, he snickers and sits on the floor, sighing loudly. “And that makes 181 wins for yours truly.”

“Then he must have cheated,” Mor gags, wiping off Cassian’s grime with the bottom of her shirt. “For fucks sake Cass you stink.”

“I’m a hard working male,” he begs to differ.

“Only thing you’re working is gonna be my foot in your ass,” Mor chides, standing up. “I’m going to shower, I smell like a dog.”

“You wish you smelled as good as me. Sorry to catch you in the crossfire, Yn.”

“It’s all good,” I smile, rubbing the few drops I got off on my sleeve. 

But the look on Xaden’s face when he comes to sit next to me reflects anything but. He’s got a scowl directed at Cassian, but he makes quick work of masking it, planting a kiss on my cheek. A moment later, Azriel does the same thing. 

“Should you be sitting on the couch?” I ask. Xaden’s hair a soaking wet mess, his clothes more the same. 

“Trust me,” Azriel chimes in, “There have been far worse things on this couch.”

I blink at him, wondering if I would need to burn my clothes after this. He plops down next to me, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind my shoulders. 

Cassian looks between all three of us. Clearly seeing the size difference and taking notes about it. “I should probably keep my mouth shut.”

“That would be wise, brother,” Azriel grumbles, stretching out his legs. “Where's Rhys? Im fucking freezing and I wanna go in the sauna.”

“He’s in the kitchen with Feyre,” Mor said, rounding the corner from the washroom. She clearly didn’t shower, but she smelled much better. “And we all know what happened the last time the two of them were left alone here.”

“What happened?” Xaden and I asked at the same time. 

“Nothing,” Azriel, Cassian and Mor responded in unison. 

The dragon rider and I shared a look, a silent promise to ask Az about it later. We had a nice evening planned, dinner with everyone, and then they were going to let Az, Xaden and I spend the night in the cabin. We’ve never been here before today so it was a generous offer. I can tell how much this place means to all of them. 

No one needs a vivid imagination to get an idea of what’s going to happen later. 

“Fuck him,” Cassian pushes to his feet, binding his hair back with a strip of leather. “Come on, let's get started. He can decide later if he wants to join.”

Cassian and Xaden head out the door, but Az stays seated next to me. “Having fun?”

“Of course,” I reassured, patting his thigh. “Mor and Feyre are very kind. And this is a lovely cabin.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Looks like you two had a lot of fun,” I smile, resting my cheek on his damp shoulder. “You smell far better than Cassian.”

“Naturally,” Az smirked. “And yes we did. Xaden needed it, you needed it. It’s always just been the three of us every year, but it felt right to have Xaden here in the mix. You too, obviously.”

“Glad I could make the cut,” I joked, receiving a pinch on my ear. 

“Brat.”

“That’s not even close to me being a brat and you know it.” “Don’t I ever,” he grinned, covering my mouth with his. Despite the chill coming from his body, his lips were warm and soft. Full of life, vibrance, and need. “By the sound of it, Rhys won’t be joining us in the sauna. We won’t be in there long, will you bring us some towels around four?”

I looked at the analog on the wall, the hands reading 3:22pm. I nodded, “Sure.”

He curled my hair around his fingers before standing, following the other two outside. 

In the meantime, I hung out with Mor and we talked about random stuff. She tried to get more details about Az and Xaden, but I wasn’t willing to give them up. We played a few card games, had a snack and a glass of wine before she winnowed off the mountain and back to Velaris to meet some friends at Rita’s. 

Just as I was curling up with a book, I felt a cool whisper circle my wrist. A strand of Azriel’s shadow wrapped around and around in a never ending bracelet. I smiled, looking at the clock. Just seven past four. I head for the closet, grabbing three thick, soft tan towels. 

Damn, it's cold out here. How do they not freeze to death? I carefully step in their footsteps so my toes don’t get frozen off. There is a little stone path to the sauna and I gladly jump from stone to stone. With the towels under my arm, I knock on the door. 

“I brought your towels, they’ll be out here on this chest,” I shouted, unsure if they’d be able to hear me through the thick wood paneling. There was a small jut out from the roof over the door, ensuring they wouldn’t get covered with snow.

“Will you bring them in?” Xaden calls.

I skidded to a halt, damn near knocking myself over. Did he just say what I think he said? “I thought no females were allowed in the sauna?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassian’s voice boomed. “We just need the towels so our bits don’t freeze off. You can close your eyes if you’re scared.”

Scared? I wasn’t scared, but I didn’t particularly care to see Cassian sprawled out with all his glory on display. Well, okay that's a complete lie. Ever since I first saw the Lord of Bloodshed, I thought he was… well… hot. He’s tall, all thick muscle and confidence. He knows he’s hot shit. I’d imagine if he were a closer friend that confidence might piss me off, but I think he’s funny. He knows what he’s got and he’s not afraid to show it. 

“Are you going to bring them or not?” Xaden shouts.

Oh. Right. The towels. 

I take a steadying breath and push open the door. A wave of humid, damp air blasts me in the face, instantly melting the flecks of snow on my hair and lashes. There isn’t a light save for a few windows to let some ventilation in. It's dark, but I can make out the three figures. Azriel and Xaden are to the left, and Cassian is to the right. 

I keep my eyes on my boys and place towels in Xadens open arms. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Of course,” I smile, carefully avoiding any glimpses of Cassian in my peripherals. Just before I can reach the safety of the outdoors, Azriel’s hand wraps around my wrist, gently tugging me in front of him. His other hand curls around my hip, pinning me still. “Yes, my shadow?”

He all but purrs at the nickname. “Stay.”

Stay. Stay? As in… in here? With him and Xaden and Cassian? “You guys enjoy your time together.”

I tried to take another step, but he sat up, gripping my body to keep it positioned between his powerful legs. I trailed my eyes down his torso, seeing a bit of a surprise waiting for me. “I told you to stay.”

Heat flooded my body, a different heat than the one coursing through the sauna. I quickly glance at Xaden to see him exchanging a glance with Cassian across the way.

“I- I wouldn’t want to kick Cassian out just because you want me, Az. That’s rude,” I say, my breath hitching when he slides his hands under my thick wool sweater. He rakes his nails down my back and I momentarily forget that there is a third set of eyes watching. 

“I don’t think Cassian would mind the show, would you, Cass?” Azriel looks around my torso at the Illyrian, and I have to force myself not to do the same. 

There isn’t a verbal response from him. 

Az roughly grips my hips, forcing me to sit down in his lap. His mouth attaches to mine before I can make a sound. I flinch momentarily when he bites down on my lip, his pace fast and aggressive. The sauna is silent save for the sound of our lips meeting. 

Sweat begins to swell around my hairline, trickling down the back of my neck. He removes my sweater and tosses it towards the open door. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the hot air coats my bare back. Azriel breaks the kiss, latching onto my neck and collar bone. 

“Az,” I say, already breathless. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“Are you telling me that you’ve never thought about Cassian before?”

Shit. SHIT.

“I- well I didn’t- not in the way you think I would’ve I was just-”

“That certainly didn’t sound like a no, Yn,” Azriel looks up at me, a knowing glint in his eye. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I- I didn’t think… I would’ve never thought that-”

“You have five seconds to tell me to stop. One.”

“Azriel I-”

“Two.” He pushes me back to my feet. 

My knees buckle and it’s an effort to keep myself upright in the sweltering humidity. “Why would I have thought that you and Xaden would want-”

“Three.” He stands, towering over me.

I huff in annoyance. “Azriel, stop counting-”

“Four.” Az makes me take two steps back, advancing on me.

“Xaden will you please fucking-”

“Five.” His fingers wrap around my throat and push me back. Directly into Cassian. A second set of hands find their way onto my body. Cassian grips my hips, keeping me from falling. I am deathly still. I hardly breathe. I don’t dare make a noise. “You’d like it if Cassian joined, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t respond. 

“She looks petrified,” Xaden points out very matter-of-factly. 

“I like it when she’s scared, she obeys when she is. Isn’t that right pet?” 

One word. One stupid nickname and I’m under his spell. Fuck, of course I want Cassian to join. I haven’t ever seen him without clothes, but he doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “I- I umm-”

“Just admit it and I’ll let you go,” Azriel demands, tightening his fingers for emphasis. It’s nowhere near a dangerous amount, but it makes my breath hitch.

“Yes yes,” I rush out, senses on fire. 

“Yes what, pet? Come on, you know the rules. If you want Cass to join you have to tell him.”

Azriel releases me, and if it weren’t for Cassian holding me up, I would’ve keeled over. The combination of the restricted airflow and the density of the heat in the sauna was going to make a lethal combo. 

And I craved it. 

I quickly slipped under, fully ready to play with the three of them. I gently turn and look down at Cassian. His bronze skin is shining with sweat, hair still bound behind his head. I take a deep breath, swallowing. “Would you like to play with us, Cassian?”

His eyes dilate, tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips. “I thought you’d never ask, darling.”

Relief floods me and I smile. I am so thrilled he said yes. I look over at Az and Xaden, waiting for their command. I desperately need them to tell me what to do. This is already so overwhelming in the best way possible. 

“Why don’t you be a good girl and welcome Cassian, okay?”

I don’t need to be told twice. Like he knows what I was thinking, his knees spread apart, inviting me in. I sink down to the floor and stare up at him through my wet lashes. “Messy or clean?”

A grin spreads across the Illyrians mouth. “Oh, she’s good. Messy, darling. I want to see you ruined.”

Cassian’s finger separated my lips and I sucked on his thumb. He pressed down on my tongue, and I swirled it around his digit. Meanwhile, his other hand fisted himself, and I couldn’t help but take a glance. 

Cauldron boil me alive–

I delicately reach a hand out and replace mine with his. The warrior's head falls back and he shuts his eyes. My hand is so much smaller than… well, every part of him. I stroke up and down, gently thumbing the small slit at the tip. A few drops slide down onto my finger and I generously lick them off. He definitely tastes similar to Az, but nothing like Xaden. 

The moment my tongue circles him, he cuts loose a moan deep from his chest. 

“Fuck you’re so warm,” Cassian lifts his head, taking in the sight of me taking him in. I swallow around him, drawing more sounds out of him. 

“I think what makes it so good is she loves doing it. Don’t you, Yn? You love being stuffed full,” Azriel comes up behind me, his presence stealing my breath away. Maybe it’s the added heat that makes my head dizzy. “That’s right, work him all the way down. Get him nice and deep.”

I push and push my head all the way down his cock, taking a moment to stay still, just emphasizing exactly what I can do. Cassian laughs at me, full on laughs. A mocking sort of sound that spreads goosebumps all across my skin. He bucks his hips, really testing how far he can push me. 

“Oh, she’s good,” he grunts, head tipping back again. “Keep that perfect mouth moving, darling.”

My ears are ringing a little. Whether that be from the heat or the sheer overstimulation, it’s hard to tell, but I didn’t react right away. The next thing I knew, one of Azriel’s hands was fisting my hair, the other braced at the back of my head. I nearly choked when I was ripped away and then slammed down onto his cock a few times. 

“You heard him, Yn. Take his cock like the good slut you are,” Azriel reprimanded. He continued to overpower me, making me work up and down on Cassian. I let my jaw go slack, along with my hands braced on Cassian’s thighs. I let out a content sigh as I was fucked on Cassian’s cock. 

I rocked with Azriels movements. His grip singed my scalp and an ache formed in my jaw. It was familiar, ignorable, but present nonetheless. I was glad to have them doing all the work, it was far too hot in here to think clearly… even without the added exertion.

When Az decided I got the memo, he let go of my head and I continued the motions with steady practice. I closed my eyes, feeling every drop of sweat on my body. My thick, fleece lined leggings were beginning to soak through. Xaden’s calloused hands found their way to my waste and began to slide them off. With a pop, I pulled off of Cassian, giving my jaw a much needed break. Xaden peeled them from my legs, taking my underwear with them. But, before he let me sit back down, he laid down on his back, beckoning me to ease on top of him. 

“Surely you’ll suffocate, it’s already unbearably hot in here,” I huff, catching my breath. 

“Then I shall go doing what I love most,” the dragon rider replies. “Sit.”

I looked to Az, silently asking if this really was a smart decision. He just gave me a pointed nod with narrow eyes, a promise that if I didn’t listen he’d make working for my release miserable. So I obeyed without a second thought. 

The moment his tongue curled into me, I sighed. Aimlessly, my hand worked tentatively up and down Cassian’s shaft, drawing a few sounds out of the General. “Let me fuck your throat, darling.”

There must’ve been a sparkle in my eye because I grinned, opening wide for him to do so. His length was thick. Almost too thick. And long. Fucks sake everything about him was big. I was up for the challenge. As it hit the back of my throat, I relaxed, letting his hands fall around my ears. It was gentle at first, his thrusts long and even. I moaned in tandem with the licks I was receiving from Xaden, my mind a melted, scrambled mess of ecstasy. With a particularly hard suck on my clit, I jerked the opposite way Cassian was going.

“Ah ah ah,” he chided, clicking his tongue. “You don’t get to run away from me. Take what you’ve been given. Be a good fucking girl, Yn.”

I glance up at him, throat too full to make any noise. A third set of hands– Azriels, so experienced and commanding, settled on my breasts, plucking and pulling. I could feel everything and nothing at the same time. My entire body was numb with pleasure, numb with exploration of the three of them. 

Azriel. Xaden. Cassian. All three of them, the most powerful warriors of their respective worlds, all focused on one thing. One goal. 

Me. 

Cassian picked up his pace, the thrusts less deep, but far more firm. It was clear he was chasing his high, thick veins beginning to bulge in his arms… up his chest… in the column of his throat. 

“She does such a good job at taking it,” Cassian praises. “Doesn’t gag, doesn’t complain. Look at all those pretty tears. All for me, darling? Do I fuck you so good you need to cry? It’s okay, I’ll lick them clean. Then make them spill down your neck again when I get to fuck your pussy.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, thighs shaking with the force of Xaden’s tongue against my core. I writhed my hips, breathing harshly through my nose every other thrust because that’s all Cass would allow. At some point Azriel’s hands left the mix. I couldn’t see him anywhere, but his presence remained. Those shadows replacing his skilled fingers. 

My body was wound tight. I was already anticipating a fun night with just Azriel and Xaden. But now? With Cassian? A new fire had been set ablaze inside me. And it needed– no, demanded, to be let out. I tried to warn Xaden, I tried to ask for permission, but I couldn’t with Cassian’s grip on my head. I fiercely moaned, hips shaking so badly that Xaden had to lock me in place. 

“You can let go,” Azriel commanded from somewhere behind me. I silently thanked him. 

Like a crack of lightning, my release barreled through me. I came so hard my vision whited out, a faint ringing bounding between my ears. Moans of pure pleasure spilled out of me and right onto Cassian. The extra vibrations must’ve done wonders from him because his grip faltered, as well as his pace. His head slumped forward and his eyes rolled shut. 

“Fuuuuck, whatever you’re doing to her, Riorson, you better not fucking stop. Keep her moaning like that. Fuck I’m gonna cum so hard. Want it, pretty pet? Want my cum down your throat, filling your belly?”

He released my head, bidding me to give a verbal answer. After what Xaden just did to me, I’m not sure that’s physically possible. “P-Please, sir” I sigh out, my voice in an atrocious state already. “Wanna make you feel so so good.”

The use of ‘sir’ must’ve really done something to him. He sat up, a corrupt, unforgiving smile creeping onto his cruel lips. “Sir? That’s a dangerous game, my darling.”

“She doesn’t mind a little bit of danger, does she?” Azriel grips my hair again, pulling my head back so I have to look up at him. I nod carefully, the strain in my neck almost too much. “Yes she does. Now get to it, I'm getting impatient.”

Bad things happen when Azriel is left uncared for. And who was I to make him suffer?

I stuck out my tongue, a silent beg for Cassian to slip back in. He did without further coercion. The first time my nose brushed the soft hair on his pelvis, I could’ve sworn it was an accident. The second time, I realized it wasn’t. I couldn’t breathe, a small panic settling in every crevice of my body. I tried to keep calm, but between a relentless Xaden under me and a ruthless Cassian in front, it was near impossible. 

“F-Fuck fuck fuck fuuuucccckkkk,” Cassian shouted, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen flexing. “Gonna take it all? It’s gonna be a lot, can you handle it, darling? Yeah I think you can. I’ll make you either way. Stay niiiiice and still for me- oh fuck-”

At the last second, he pulls me off about an inch and the humid, sweat filled scent of air floods into my nose. I drink his release down. It’s thick and warm, salty and abundant. I hum around him as I swallow and swallow and swallow. My eyes fill with tears yet again and they escape down my cheeks. 

Cassian shudders. With gentle laps of my tongue, I clean him up. He watches me attentively. I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips when our eyes meet. 

“You…” he breathes heavily, chest swelling and falling. “You are a little devil, aren’t you?”

The Illyrians hand wraps around my throat and he pulls me to my feet, and off of Xaden. The way our tongues met could’ve moved mountains. He was not shy in showing how much he wanted me. I melted into him, straddling his thigh and letting my arms drop to my sides. 

Azriel played with my hair, hands caressing my ass. Together, they brought me down, content to let me relax for a few minutes. 

“You did so well, pet,” Azriel cooed, dragging his tongue over the shell of my ear.

“So fucking good,” Cassian murmured against my lips. “Such a good little girl.”

I could hear Xaden climb to his feet, the sound of his hand stroking his cock loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I will never, ever, get tired of making her cum on my tongue.”

“Should I have a taste?” Cassian asked, placing small bites on my throat. 

“I actually had something else in mind,” I sighed out, getting lost in all the hands and tongues. He gave me a curious look, but I just smirked, easing onto shaking legs and turning around so my ass was in Cassian’s lap. “I want to play a game.”

“A game?” There is an obvious hint of danger in Cassian’s voice? “What kind of game?”

“I want you and Xaden to fuck me, and I want Azriel to tell you when to move and when to stop.”

I haven’t yet brought it up to Azriel and Xaden, but I’ve always wanted to do this. A game of red light green light. To give full control and power to him, making us work for our pleasure. I look at Azriel, gauging his response, but he just grabs my chin, bringing our faces level. 

“Yeah? You wanna play a game? Want to be treated like a literal pet? Taking commands and performing tricks?” His voice is thick with desire, so low only we could hear it. 

My heart skips a beat. I hadn’t thought about it like that before. But the idea is… it’s-

“Look at her face, Cass,” Xaden tilts his head mockingly. “She wants it so bad, don’t you, pretty girl? Would you like a collar, that way if you get lost they know who you fucking belong to? Gods she’s so red. Don’t be embarrassed, pet. We know just how much you love being fucked full of cock and cum.”

“Sit on his dick, Yn,” Azriel orders. “Now.”

Silently, I hover over his lap, letting Cassian guide my hips. At the first press of his tip, I gasp. A new thrill thrummed through me. 

Azriel comes and stands in front of me, cupping my cheeks. “I know he’s big, but you’re gonna take all of him. And you’re going to like it because you asked for it. So, here’s your first trick. Sit.” 

The Shadowsinger pushes on my shoulders, leaving no option but to take Cassian all the way. All. The. Way. My breath is lodged in my chest with no room to escape. I can’t think. Can’t hear. Can’t see. Can’t even begin to process what is about to happen. 

“Oh, good girl Yn,” Xaden praises, still stroking himself. “Look at how pretty she looks, Az.”

Cassian grunts behind me, hooking my legs over his knees so the others can see him buried inside me. I cry out at the shift, feeling him go deeper and deeper. Gods, he feels like he’s everywhere.

“Cassian, why don’t you play with her nipples,” Azriel instructs, walking back and forth in front of us. “Xaden, give her something to suck on.”

“With pleasure,” Xaden grins, those onyx eyes narrowing on my mouth. I go to protests, but then I realize just how hard he is. How flushed his skin is. And I need to taste it, to relieve him of his torture. 

He traces my lips with the tip, coating them in his slick. With a heady pant, I stick out my tongue to invite him in. 

A hand cracks down on my thigh. I scream out, more in shock than in actual pain. Azriel’s hand was the culprit. 

“Did I say you were allowed to taste it yet?” His eyes are swirling with lethality. I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something stupid. “Well?”

“N-No,” I say meekly. “I’m sorry. May I taste it, Az? Can I please taste Xaden?”

After a minute of letting the question hang in the air, building suspense, he nods. Greedily, I take Xadens hips and bring his cock towards my mouth. 

It’s such a glorious sound to hear when Xaden curses low. A deep rumble in his chest letting me know this is exactly what he needed. Without moving– fearful I’ll get another smack– I look at Az, awaiting my next instruction. 

“Fuck her throat, Xaden,” Az says, eyes scanning out bodies. “Start fucking her nice and slow Cassian. Really savor her, make her moan just like Xaden did for you.”

At the same time, both of their bodies start sliding in and out of me. They find a rhythm instantly: Cassian fucks me forward onto Xaden, and Xaden fucks me back onto Cassian. It’s easy enough to let them do all the work, my bones and liquid at this point anyway. All I know is pain, pleasure, and unfiltered need for these males. 

I moan deeply as Cassian hits that spot inside me. Xadens hip stutter, his head tipping back as Cassian hits it over and over again. 

“Does that feel good, Xaden?” Azriel asks, gripping his hair at the root, whispering right in his ear. “To have our girls' mouths all around you?”

The dragon rider nods as best he can with Azriel’s grip. “Fuck yes.”

“Make her stop.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I told you to. Yn, stop,” Azriel demands. I instantly pull my mouth away from Xaden, even if it makes me want to scream and thrash and beg for it back. I need it, need to taste it, need to feel him cum down my throat. “See, she listens to me. Do I need to punish you too?”

“No,” Xaden shakes his head. “I’ll listen.”

“Yes you will.” Azriel gives a fake smile. “On your knees.”

Xaden sinks to his knees. 

“Suck on Yn’s clit. Make her cum on Cassian’s cock.”

The sight of Xaden, on his knees, cock leaking continuously, does something to me. It gives me ideas for later. He helps push open my legs, even when the first brush of his tongue makes me see stars. Cassian has to wind his arms around mine to keep me from sliding off. I know he’s strong, but to be able to hold me still and keep fucking me is…

“Good boy, Xaden,” Azriel praises, brushing his hair away from his face. “Just like that, make our pretty girl cum.”

It’s not going to take long. His laps are so soft, so gentle, and it works far faster than I’d like to admit. 

“Az- Az can I cum?” I ask, just to be cautious. I do not want to have this taken away from me. I can’t have it taken away from me. 

“Yes, pet. Cum as much as you want.”

It’s like music to my ears. It’s building and building. In my core, at the base of my spine. Behind my eyelids. It’s fucking everywhere. My vision goes white and an embarrassing noise tears from my soul. I writhe on Cassian, driving him further and further inside me. Sweat is dripping off me in buckets. Fuck it is so fucking hot in here.

“Very good Xaden,” Azriel says. “What a good boy, making our pet cum so well. You can stuff your cock back down her throat. She looked so sad to see it go. Go ahead and cum, fill her up nice and full. Cassian, get up.”

Suddenly I’m on my feet being steadied by several pairs of hands. The way Cassian is looking at me, the way he’s breathing, tells me I’m in trouble. The glances passed between Az and Cass worry me. The next thing I know I’m on my knees and elbows, ass up in the air.

“Sit on the floor, Xaden,” Azriel commands. “Right in front of Yn. Yup, there you go, now just let Cassian fuck her onto you.”

A shudder runs through my entire body when Cassian slips back in. I swiftly take Xaden down, mainly because if I don’t I’m going to go crazy. The delicious, sweet taste of him fills me once again and I hum in content. 

“Don’t hold back Cassian, chase exactly what you want. Fill up her pussy as much as you want, she can take it.”

“Fucking hell, Az. Are you trying to kill me?” Cassian chuckles, letting his motions pick up pace. Every snap of his body into mine sends waves of pleasure down my spine. It rolls through me and allows me to take even more of Xaden in my mouth. “I’ll never get over just how fucking tight she is.”

“Malek spare me…” Xaden curses. I get to watch Xaden fall apart and a new thrill fuels my motions. I lose all concept of time, I have no idea what is going on. All I know is Cass is fucking me like his life depends on it, and that Xaden is holding on for dear life. 

I suck as hard as I can, pressing my tongue into the bottom side of his cock. I can’t pay attention to the most sensitive areas of him, mainly because Cassian if fucking me too hard to let me. Hopefully I can make him see stars anyway. 

“F-Fuck Yn, I’m gonna cum,” he warns, knees falling open. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to her, Xaden,” Azriel kneels beside Xaden, hand trailing over the muscles in his chest. 

I watch the muscles in his abdomen clench with every breath. He scrunches his eyes closed and I brace for him, letting his hips rut as fast as he wants. With a long, drawn out growl, Xaden releases down my throat. I do my best to swallow it all, but between the angle and Cassian's relentless thrusts, I let a few drops spill out. 

Xaden is throbbing on my tongue, his sounds of pure pleasure fill my ears, filling me with deep satisfaction. 

“Can’t fucking take it anymore,” Azriel rips me off of Xaden and takes his place. I’m hauled up onto my palms, Azriel’s cock bobbing in front of me. Before I can take it between my lips, Azriel bends down to my level, licking the droplets of Xadens cum off my lips. 

I went as still as a statue. Tingles spread from the tips of my fingers to my toes. I watched him swallow, his Adam's-apple bobbing. I was at a loss for words. If he wanted me to speak, it’d be impossible. 

Thankfully I didn’t have to. He filled my mouth, not wasting a second. 

“Xaden, will you go grab those towels?” Azriel asked, hands trailing over my shoulders. 

“When I can move,” he responded, making the Shadowsinger and the General laugh. I swore I could feel the rumble of his laughter through his cock. 

“Not gonna last much longer,” Cassian warns, adjusting his grip on my hips.

“Wait.” Azriel urges, “Give me one minute.”

Cassian stills, and I whine in discontent. A second later, his hand smacks my ass, undoubtedly leaving an imprint of his hand. “Don’t complain, pet. Or you won’t get anything at all. You should be grateful to be stuffed full of our cocks. That’s no way to disrespect a guest.”

Azriel is unforgiving as he fucks my throat, his pace fast and hard. To be fair, he has been waiting a long while for his turn. It doesn’t take long for him to start showing signs of nearing his high. He grabs both sides of my sweat-soaked head, and I feel drops from his own body–and Cassians–land on me. 

“Want my cum?” Azriel asks, pulling me off. “Want me to cum down your little throat, pet?”

“Yes yes yes,” I slur my words together. “Please gimme all of it, need all your cum. Wanna taste you so bad.”

“Yeah you fucking do,” Azriel’s grin is sinister. He knows exactly what to say to make me squirm. “Drink it all up, slut.”

When he finally gives me what I want, I don’t dare waste a drop. I leave no mess to clean up as he cums all the way down. There’s nothing I can do but swallow, swallow, swallow.

I begin to lose some consciousness, the heat and over exertion finally catching up to me. I feel Azriel slip out, praising me and telling me how good I did. I think I nod, but Cassian resumes his motion and I forget about everything. I can only focus on him pounding into my pussy, getting so deep I have to let out little noises every time he does. 

“She’s so fucked out,” Xaden says from… somewhere. 

“Yeah she is, she looks so good. Limp and used. So fucking hot, Yn,” Azriel agrees. 

I moan in response. It’s about all I’m capable of at this point. And it feels so good. Everything they did to me, every thrust from Cassian feels like I’m floating. I close my eyes and let him finish me. 

As Cassian lets go, I feel him pin my shoulders to the ground, ramming his hips as hard as he can into me, filling me up nice and tight full of his cum. There's a big stretch, and then an almost immediate release. His warm slick flows out from around him and down the inside of my thigh. Tears or exhaustion and pleasure streak down my cheeks and fall onto the wood floor of the sauna.

Eventually, I’m laid on my back. I can barely open my eyes, but I feel a tongue lapping between my legs. I try to inch away, but firm hands keep me from closing my legs. I whine. 

“Ah ah,” I hear Cassian chide. “He’s just trying to clean you up. Be still. Here, drink this.”

A cup is pressed to my lips and I hungrily drink down. The salty, briny taste is washed from my tongue and my blurry vision begins to steady. I look down, seeing Xaden between my legs, his curly head soaked with sweat. 

Cassian’s thumb brushes my cheek, collecting a small tear. “Aww, poor baby.” I watch as he licks it from his digit. It… gets me going faster than I’d like to admit. Then his tongue trails the length of my cheek. I shudder, letting out a tiny squeak. “Told you I’d lick them clean.”

“Alright that's enough, Xaden,” Azriel says from up above. “Let’s get her inside and cool off.”

“I just couldn’t help it, her pussy looked so good full of cum,” Xaden winks at me, and I can feel a flush of my cheeks and neck. “Even after all we’ve done together, I still make you blush.”

“Zip it,” I glared at him, failing to keep my smile at bay. 

Cassian lifts me up, hugging me close to his chest. We’re all covered in sweat, but I don’t give a fuck. I just want to take a nice bath, curl up with my boys, and sleep into next week. A cold burst of air greets me as we step outside the sauna. 

“Is she doing okay?” Azriel asks. I think it’s him that brushes hair away from my face. 

“Mhm,” Cassian responds, giving my body a squeeze. “She's gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” Xaden added. “She always recovers really well. She’s not afraid to tell us what she needs. But by this point we know what she needs.”

“My only request is a bath.”

“See?” Xaden chuckles, then plants a kiss on my head. “Feeling okay? Not too lightheaded?”

I make a noise that sorta sounds like an ‘mhm’, but it kinda comes out as a garbled mess. All three of them give a laugh. 

“That was… more fun than I thought it was going to me,” Cassian sighed contently, padding down the hallway to one of the bedrooms. I'm set gently on the bed, propped up against Cassian. I am way too tired to open my eyes, but my ears track them all around the room. I can smell the soft lavender wafting from the bathroom. Hallelujah. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you joined,” Xaden agreed, his fingers beginning to braid sections of my hair. “We’re just waiting on the tub to fill up, pretty girl. Then we’ll get cleaned up and go to bed. You did such an amazing job, taking us all like that. And the game? We’re going to have some more fun with that, aren’t we?”

“Yes we are,” I nodded, peeking open my eyes to find them all huddled around me. Azriel smiles sweetly, cupping my face, stroking his thumb back and forth across my cheek. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he whispers. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I nod, clenching my hands to get some of the tingling to go away. “It was so hot in there.” 

“We even turned down the heat before you got in there,” Xaden explained, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Did you have fun?”

“I always do, did you?” I asked, looking up at Cassian.

“In the beginning I was a little unsure but… now I’m hoping you’ll send word any time you wanna play again,” He grins, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You were unbelievable.”

“Isn’t she something else?” Azriel looks at me fondly. “Baths ready, want to be by yourself or do you want one of us in there with you? Or… well, I guess we all can fit if that's what you want.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to wash my own hair,” I grin.

They all share a look, smiles creeping onto their mouths. 

“I’ll get the shampoo,” Azriel winks.

“I call the conditioner,” Xaden stands, following Azriel into the bathroom. 

I can’t help but laugh. 

“Are they always like this?” Cassian watches as they root around in a cabinet, smelling the different bottles. 

“Yes, they’re too kind to me.”

“I think it’s well earned,” he smiles, helping me stand. “Come on, let's go.”

I let him lead me in, making sure I get a good look at his ass. Damn. just… damn.  

“I could ask Feyre to commission a painting, it’ll last longer,” he says cockily. 

I give it a smack. With a helping hand from Azriel, I sink into the tub, and let the water cool off my skin. I lean back, wondering how I got so damn lucky.