#it's so annoying trying everything you know to care for your body like stretches and baths and protein and sleep and cups of tea

[gideonisms]

I truly deeply feel like I've died. I fear my body may soon decide for me that I need a day off no matter how much vitamin c I take and how strict I am about eating 3 meals a day and sleeping enough

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and eventually violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- Oral (Female recieving) fingering, sexual tension, snorting cocaine off bodies lmaoo, coke lips just a lil, mentions of violence and mafia mentions- WC-6.9k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna IDK how many parts this will be, maybe six? That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- CHECK it- LINK

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist- Part Three>>>

Part Two

You’re yawning as you get your little boy ready to sleep, and your good friend and now babysitter Miwa comes in, a pretty smile on her face as she walks in and sees Touma, your little son yanking on your hair then. “Ow, hey now!”

You’re all laughing as you disentangle your hair, huffing a bit. “Sowwy, mama.” He says so cute, and you melt then.

“It’s why mommy wears a bun.” You tap his little button nose, earning a little scrunch of his nose, and then he looks at Miwa, opening his little hands.

“Miwa!” She giggles, getting down on her knees and opening her arms, he goes to hug her then as you get everything ready for the night.

“Are you sure it’s fine? I swear I feel so awful asking you…” You murmur, you’d just gotten a funds transfer that was far too much from Sukuna labled ‘sitter money’ which was hundreds of dollars.

“No, please, it's fine.”

“Um… is two hundred good?” You ask, as Sukuna sent another note saying ‘for you to eat something - you’ll need energy’ which made you blush insanely, memories from him yesterday making you overheat.

“Two hundred, what? That’s too much.” She says with a frown. “It’s one night, like a hundred?”

“Miwa…”

“Girl, I’m not taking two hundred for it.”

“It’s not even from me.” You show her the text then, and she has a blush of her own on her cheeks.

“He did that!?”

“Yeah… so please take it, literally it’s not from me, and I promise, he’s got plenty. Clearly..” She sighs, smiling a bit then as she studies you.

“You really like him, hmm?”

“It’s intense, Miwa.” You murmur softly, looking as your little boy is laughing and tapping on his tablet. “He makes me feel really pretty.”

“Oh baby.” She hugs you then, and you cling to her tightly. “You’re beautiful, I tell you that all the time.”

“I know, and thank you but like, the stretch marks that… he trashed on me for, Mr. Sukuna thinks they’re so sexy.” Your voice is just a breathy whisper, you don’t know how much Touma may or may not hear or know yet.

“Ugh, I’m so glad you left him.” She rolls her pretty blue eyes, shivering in disgust at the thought of your ex, it’s a common response to anyone with sense. “But Toji is kind of related?”

“Loosely. He’s different, I promise, than any of them.”

“I’ll trust it, but jesus the Zenin family is no joke. Just be careful.” You nod as you continue to get a bag together, blushing when you grab pajamas, you don’t know if you’re going to even use pajamas.

Sukuna did things to you that have never been done just existing, what’s terrifying is you know it’s probably a hookup, but after two years of nothing, even that sounds so good. But you’re scared that you’ll catch feelings fast with him, just his presence alone is intoxicating, as much of a drug as any of them push.

You certainly weren’t telling Miwa that.

Sukuna seems night and day from your ex, Naoya, as if they couldn’t be two more different men, despite the clear mafia ties. Something about Sukuna screams that he wants to protect you, and as independent as you are lately by being forced to be, something about him taking care of you was heady and addicting. You can’t stand how much you want it, want more.

“You’ve got those dickmatized eyes.” Miwa says with a sigh and you shush her, as she giggles.

“Not even… I… Miwa!”

“I’m kidding.” She giggles then, shaking her head. “The girls will be very happy to hear you’re meeting someone.”

“Don’t tell our friends yet, what if this ends… with nothing?” You murmur, and she shakes her head, blue hair falling softly.

“Look already, he's more thoughtful. You have fun, and shit if he wants to give me two hundred more to stay another night I will. Easy money for me.”

“Miwa!” She’s laughing and you can’t help but laugh too, before nervously biting your lip. “I feel guilty leaving, it’s one thing to make money, but it seems so selfish to just go do this.”

“Please don’t, he’ll have fun. Won’t you?” She asks him then, as he comes out with his tablet, slicing at fruit rapidly.

“Mommy go have fun!” You blink back tears then. “Mommy should smile, Miwa, smile!”

“She should smile.” Miwa’s hair falls over her brow as she picks him up, propping him on her hip, and your lip trembles a bit at just how sweet he is, before your teeth clamp down on it.

“I love you both, I swear. Touma baby, Mommy will be back tomorrow, will you tell me all the fun that you have?” You ask, feeling emotions catch in your throat, this would be the first night away from him since you all have been on your own.

“Mhmm!” He gives you a big kiss on your cheek, and you giggle at him then, but as you’re heading into your big old SUV, you tense when you see the number, pressing answer and sighing.

“What do you want.” You bite out, trying to sound firm despite the nerves eating you alive.

“That’s not a very nice greeting, sweetheart, don’t you miss me?” His voice makes you sick to your stomach, you tremble when you start your car, and he’s laughing. “Still got that old thing, I can hear it.”

“Well I own it, and it’s mine. So yes. What do you even want?” You murmur, and hear the dark chuckle of Naoya Zenin.

It’s disgusting, even his laugh.

“Just wondering how my son is.”

“Now you care? Sure didn’t on his birthday.” You hear his scoff.

“You’re such a bitch, as if you’d let me see him.” He mutters, tone changing from the cloying fake one to fully disgusting.

“I tried to let you, even after it all, it’s been your choice.” You gulp down some water that you’ve brought as you sit at the turning lane, blinker ticking loudly in the quiet car, as your heart races.

“Well maybe I miss you and Touma, did you think of that? Oh, I just bet you miss me.”

“I’m good.”

“Ha, you say that, but I remember things.” His voice takes on a purr now, you can almost see those narrow brown eyes, his malicious grin, how had you ever fallen for someone like that?

“Remember what?” You ask, voice harsh as you remember the last time you all had been together, after he’d cheated again. You’d been so fucked up from him you’d wanted to please him, to make him desire you, but there was no pleasure in it, shit Naoya himself had never been one to pleasure you.

Selfish in every single area including sex, you think you got off more from Sukuna fingering you for a moment than your entire relationship, just the way his ruby eyes looked at you was like a drug. The way he’d kissed you, how he wanted your pleasure, and did all this for a night. It was a million times more than you’d ever had with Naoya.

“You don’t remember me inside you, sweetheart?” He cooes, but you’re shivering in disgust at the memory.

“Sure I do, I’m good.”

“You act as if you could do better, as if you were even good enough for me.” There it goes, you think, while you’re driving down the highway toward the club, odd that it feels so comfortable so quickly.

“Yeah, if I’m not then why are you calling me, hmm?” You ask then, hearing his scoff, smiling as practically picture him losing his shit.

“Who’d want you after the kid but me? You act like you’re the same bitch you were when we met.”

“Lots of people, because guess what? I’m still hot, so fuck you.” He scoffs as you’re giggling.

“The fuck!?”

“Mmhmm, I’m still very hot. And if you don’t think so, go knock up some other poor girl I guess, then down her for the changes a baby makes to her body. Because I’m not it anymore.”

“You little-”

“I’ll block this number if you call for anything personal again. Our agreement states you should be talking through our app.”

“Yeah, really ya think I’ll listen to that shit? Why don’t you admit it, how much you miss me?”

“Because I don’t. Anyway, I have work.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” He demands in his slick tone, one that makes your tummy lurch.

“Bartending.”

“Hah, you were only smart enough to look pretty and blink those lashes, back to it hmm?”

“Didn’t you just say I’m unattractive, how contradictory are you?”

“You-”

“Goodbye.” You hang up the phone, shutting your eyes for a moment and gripping it tightly in your hand, shaking off the images in your mind, in just a week Sukuna, and shit even Toji as a friend, have made you feel better than you had since the split.

Getting cheated on back to back was not easy on you, but you feel like you can shove it all back and just breathe. You’re walking into the club then, seeing Gojo with a fellow tall, dark haired man, he’s beautiful actually you muse as you walk past them, Sukuna and Toji to the dressing room. Sukuna had already laid eyes on you though, and as you’re getting undressed he walks in.

All the girls scatter, his ruby eyes directly on you, and you’re trembling just a bit when he frowns. “What’s wrong, brat?”

“Brat?” You tease softly, blinking a bit when he steps closer.

“You look upset. Who do I need to kill?” You almost laugh, but he raises a brow, god how are this man’s eyebrows attractive!? You sigh then, stepping closer, naked aside from your panties, and you feel his eyes dart to your bare breasts.

“I’m much happier now.” You murmur, he sighs then, a big hand on your waist, taking you over, thumb slipping against the swell of your lower breast.

“Yeah, why?” He mutters, so gruffly, already throbbing hard under his slacks, as he thinks of everything he wants to do.

“Because you’re touching me.” Your vulnerability almost breaks him then, his lips parted in shock, he squeezes tighter, leaning down and cupping your face.

“Did you get the money for your sitter?” He murmurs, and you nod shyly.

“It was too much, but I’m sure she appreciates it.” Your hand comes to grip his strong wrist, heart beating erratically in your chest now.

“And did you eat?”

“Not yet.” You giggle, softly, he sighs then, lips a breath away.

“I’m not fucking kidding, you’ll need the energy.” His words and his tone make your mind wander, just how would it be, to have Sukuna inside you?

“Oh yeah?”

He smirks before chuckling, throwing his head back. “You’re cute, brat, oh yeah.”

“Hey!” You sigh now, stepping back as he eyes your breasts, and you pop your little tassels out of your bag, eyeing him then, watching him drink the sight in. “Wanna help?”

“Shit.” You kill him. Sukuna takes them and presses them, as the little sticky adhesive suctions on, but he’s cupping your breasts in huge hands, as one of the girls, Candy walks in, pausing. “What do you want?” His voice is so terse, it’s just nothing like the man that just asked if you got the hundreds he sent for a sitter and your lunch.

“Um… Mr. Sukuna… could you help me with mine?” She asks then, yanking her tassels off, bare breasted. She makes you tense a bit.

Naoya had cheated over and over, but you and Sukuna were nothing yet, shit you’d just sucked him in his office so far, that’s it. And maybe a hook up tonight? So you can’t be upset if he wishes to, you just look away nervously, leaning forward in the mirror to adjust your makeup and pulling away as he eyes her, so clearly irritated by her presence.

“Ask Toji or something.” He grumbles, before turning you back to him, your eyes glimmer then, with some moisture, making him stutter. “What’s wrong now, shit?”

“No, it’s… your…” You hug him then, making him freeze, as your pretty little body is against him, your breasts so soft on him, he wants to tear you apart, put you back together, make you his. His hands stall though, unsure as you look up at him with tears down your pretty cheeks.

Candy leaves as Sukuna’s mouth opens and shuts. “Brat, what is it?”

“You m-make me feel really… um… it’s stupid…”

“Out with it.”

“Sexy? Pretty? Wanted?” He blinks in confusion then, how could you ever not be, especially with the amount of attention you get here? “I’m not used to this.”

“You know you’re pretty, just… shut up, stop that shit.” He’s swiping at your eyes though, as you elicit emotions that make him insane. “Why’d you feel like you’re not, that brain fried from your kid or something!?”

“No… I just… shitty past.” He sees it then, you’re so hurt from something, and anyone who ever made you feel that way!?

Sukuna would take him the fuck out.

“Whoever says you’re not is trying to fuck with you, fuck your head up, so ignore that shit.” He says softly almost, still a little gruff, cupping your face then. “I have excellent taste, trust mine hmm?”

“Yeah.” Your lip trembles, and Sukuna can’t stop the word from spilling from his lips then.

“Beautiful.”

“I… huh?”

“Shut it.” He kisses you then, and you’re falling against him, pressed on the counter where he can see your back and ass in the mirror, tempting him just as much as your pretty breasts, he moans as he steps between your thighs.

“Did you say beautiful?”

“Shush it, fuck you’re annoying hmm?” You just giggle a bit, and the action does something odd to his heart, god you do something to him.

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna.”

“Just Sukuna, shit.” He kisses you again before taking a breath, eyeing your body up and down slowly. “Wanna sit on my lap during this meeting? You may… have to have some coke on your body.”

“On me!?”

“Yeah but I’d like you there? Don’t smile like that, you’re too excited.” He says with a glare, you can’t stop it though. The way Sukuna makes you feel, even if this is just you two hooking up, it’s too addicting.

“Which outfit should I wear?” You hold up a few, when Sukuna picks a sexy little red number.

“Turn, I’ll snap it up.” You do as he says, he brushes your hair off the back of your neck over one of your shoulders, eyeing you in the mirror, when he’s done snapping it his fingers trail down your spine, sending shivers down it. His hands then grip your waist, pulling your back against him, and you feel him, hard and insistent against the small of your back under his dress pants.

“You like this outfit?” You manage to tease softly, he exhales then, trailing his big hands down your shoulders, then brushing the sides of your breasts, making your nipples taut under these tassels.

“What do you think?” He says gruffly, before stepping back, letting you both take a breath, he leans forward, palms on the counter, nipping at your shoulder with his teeth, making you gasp a bit. “Keep thinking how good you fucking taste, wanna bury my face inside you.”

“Sukuna…” Your voice is a whine, pathetic, your head falling to the side, as his palm now presses on your tummy. “You do that?”

“Do I do that?” He chuckles against your neck now. “Yes I do that, don’t tell me whatever shit ex you had didn’t.” You just blush now, looking down, and his brows raise in surprise. “And how long were you together?”

“Four years.”

“Not once.” You shake your head, and he scoffs, finger drifting just across your red lace, touching you over the material, finding you drenched, making him moan at the heat he feels. You’re soaking his fingers, turning to look up at him, your eyes dilated and lidded. “You want me to drink you up?”

“Y-yes. I do.” You admit softly, he chuckles as he studies the color decorating your skin, brushing his thumb along your cheek so overheated. Before Naoya you’ve had guys do it, and of course it felt good, but you imagine Sukuna will be this entire other level.

“You won’t ever want me to leave once I do.” You hear the vulnerability in his voice, making you pause before he backs away, clearing his throat.

As if you’d leave him if he was yours, does he not know what kind of man he is to you? How you feel? Well… no, not yet, you’re swallowing it all down, it’s new and it’s scary, and…

“First, be a good girl and let’s do this meeting, yeah?” His gruff words make you focus once more.

“Yes Sir.”

“Shit don’t say that.” He scowls, turning to adjust his raging hard cock up in his waistband, and your giggle earns a deeper glare. “Keep acting up.”

“I won’t! Promise.” He doesn’t give you the smile until you’ve already stepped in front of him, but it’s quite a dopey little smile, as he watches your ass bounce in the little outfit. There’s this possessiveness he feels he can’t explain, he wants to wipe out anyone who looks at you, and he barely knows you.

He can’t wait to have you cumming all over his face, can’t wait to drink your pretty pussy up until you’re a writhing fucking mess under him, he wonders, do you squirt or do you just drip? Has anyone gotten you off good enough before? Sukuna would fuck every thought out of your mind anyway, until it’s just him, because damned if that’s not all that’s in his head lately.

You both step out into the heady club, the scent of women’s perfume and men’s cologne mixing with cannabis and cigars, along with some fragrant incense burning somewhere. It’s smoky from the little fog machines, the lights strobing just so, highlighting everyone dancing, laughing, lounging. But all Sukuna can see or sense is you.

Even your scent, so sweet and intoxicating, is it  fuck your arousal he could damn near feel it, when you next to him, now, looking up just so, your face so pretty it’s damn near irritating to him, the music thrumming through until it’s pulsating both of your bodies. “Where to, Mr. Sukuna?”

“I said to call me just Sukuna, brat.”

He bets you’re blushing, even if he can’t actually see it. “Sukuna.”

God his name from those lips makes his cock throb, how will he focus on business like this!?

“Right in the VIP, c’mon.” He leads you in, where Toji has Candy on his lap, she scowls openly at you until Sukuna catches her, suddenly her scowl disappears, you can’t help but be a little amused.

You recognize Gojo, who is leaned back with an ankle crossed over a knee, grinning up at you with those insane blue eyes, even in the dark they’re ridiculous, you can’t help but smile back, he’s been very sweet to you so far. “Hey sweets, come sit on daddy’s lap, hmm?”

“She sure the fuck won’t, and you’re not daddy.” Sukuna growls, but you’re giggling just a bit as a couple more girls come in, and Sukuna sits next to Toji on one couch, across from Satoru and his friend. Satoru pouts at you.

“He’s mean, isn’t he?” The man next to him snorts, and takes your hand, bending over and kissing it, making you melt a bit.

“Suguru Geto.” He says, you smile before Sukuna has you yanked down firmly on his lap, you laugh a little breathless as you tell Suguru your name, and he watches amusedly when Sukuna wraps an arm around your hips.

“See how greedy he is with her?” Gojo says, but he’s soon amused by another one of the dancers coming by, handing him a drink. “Ooh, thank you.”

“That’s the girliest drink I’ve seen, little bitch drink.” Sukuna grumbles, Satoru sticks his tongue out, sipping on the pink concoction.

“Mmm, and I hear you’re already the star of the club, hmm?” Suguru says your name as a girl hands him a drink, and you shake your head nervously.

“She sure is, stop being shy, doll.” Toji says, tucking a lock of your hair back, before Sukuna glares at him and he chuckles. “Not that he lets her do much dancing, really.”

“Shut it Toji. Business time.”

“Boring.” Satoru leans back in his seat, long legs spread, and sipping his drink as Suguru leans forward, while a dancer lets him snort a line right off her thigh, lapping at the residue with his tongue and sighing.

“Satoru, focus.” He says in a calm tone, Satoru eyes you though as another girl comes to him.

“Wanna snort a line off you, mommy.”

“Satoru I swear to god.” Sukuna threatens, Gojo pouts now, blinking snowy lashes as Sukuna’s grip on you tightens brutally.

“I can’t take a line off the star girl?” Sukuna sighs, and you look at him then, lips turning up at the corners, as his ruby eyes narrow.

“Trying to make me jealous?” He hums quietly, you stand then, earning his hands slipping down your hips.

“I wonder if you’ll show me how mad you are later.” He smirks at you, raising a brow arrogantly.

“Think you can handle that, little brat?” You step over to Satoru, who exhales, sitting up straight then, smiling up at you.

“Look you’re defying him and everything, cute.” You roll your eyes as Satoru takes the snowy powder, tapping some gently on your thigh then, using this fancy black and silver card to line it up. “You’ve never done any, have you?”

“No…” You admit, and even as Toji, Sukuna and Suguru talk, you feel those crimson eyes boring into you, when Satoru slips his long fingers, your heel propped on the other side of him, and he wraps up a bill.

“What’s a good girl doing here though?” He asks curiously, plump lips turning up when he finishes rolling the bill.

“Single mom life is expensive.” He pauses then, blue eyes looking down a bit at your body, as you overhear the conversation in the background.

“And the Zenin family seems to think they have claim to parts of our territory, the Kamos are on board with Gojo now though, so that expands us and what we’re moving significantly.” Suguru says to Sukuna, who laughs then, throwing his head back as Toji grimaces.

“Don’t call me a fuckin’ Zenin, ya know that’s not my name.” Toji grumbles, considering he does use Fushiguro, but you can’t blame him, just look at Naoya? Who would want to be related to that?

“So you really are a mommy then. Hot.” Satoru says, before snorting the coke off your skin, one of his hands pressing into your calf as he does. Then his face is far too close to where you feel his breath tickle your inner thigh, he presses a kiss on your thigh then, earning Sukuna standing up and Satoru grinning.

“You’re gonna get killed.” Toji chuckles, and Satoru holds his hands up, as Sukuna places you behind him, grabbing him by the collar.

“I was just thanking her!?” He’s sputtering and you can’t stop your giggle, something was stupidly attractive about Sukuna like this.

“I’ll cut your dumb ass tongue out of your mouth if you-”

“Sukuna, chill. Satoru, apologize.” Suguru says calmly then, humor in his violet eyes, and Sukuna flops down Satoru right on the couch, he brushes himself off, laughing like a psycho.

“Sorry Sukuna, it's not my fault she’s so pretty.” Satoru earns another grab of his neck. “I said sorry!”

“Hands off.” He looks to you, his glare making your giggle stop, as he bends low over you, his big hands on your bare waist, your pulse racing, pounding in your ears as the room watches you both for a moment. “And you, you’re not leaving my lap anymore for the rest of the meeting, got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You can’t stop the little smile when he sighs at that, before sitting down and firmly planting you on his thigh, Gojo winks over at you, earning an eye roll as you feel Sukuna’s firm thigh against your head, addling your mind.

“Now, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Sukuna clears his throat, one arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you further up his thigh, making you ache in need, more and more. “We absolutely have an active Zenin member approaching our area, and they’re doing a lot more than running drugs.”

“They’re running people.” Toji says, disgust in his voice, and your eyes go wide as you look at him.

“This convo too much for you?” Sukuna murmurs, and then you look at him, shaking your head and gulping.

“So we stop them, then.” Suguru says calmly, and Sukuna sighs.

“There’s no other option, considering who we’re talking about, not like they’ll make any deals.” Sukuna now takes some of the powder, turning you and sprinkling just a bit on the curve of your neck and shoulder, snorting it off you and then licking the line off your body, exhaling as he tastes you mixing with the numbness of the cocaine. “Fuck…”

It’s a murmur no one hears but you, but you feel him clenching you tightly, so protective, his hands not leaving you as they speak, little brushes against your back playing with your hair, all while your pussy throbs in need for him. But more so your mind craves to know more of him, just who is the man you feel so comfortable sitting on so damn quickly?

What makes him… him?

“No one hates the Zenins more than Toji.” Comes Suguru’s voice now, shaking you out of your reverie, you blink a bit as Toji laughs, downing a shot.

“She does.” He says your name, gesturing to you, earning the eyes of every man, including Sukuna, as his mouth parts. “Shit, sorry doll.”

“What’s he mean?” Sukuna asks tersely, and you sigh, shifting a bit.

“Do you have a connection to the Zenin?” Suguru asks curiously, you sigh again, that’s two sighs, Sukuna counts, while you tense, and he watches your jaw clench just a bit as he turns your chin to face him.

“They got something on you?” He asks quietly, and you look at Toji again, unable to really say the words.

“Her kid is a Zenin.” He says then, gruffly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw your shit out there.”

“Your kid is a Zenin?” He asks, you nod then, just a bit. “So your shitty ex is a Zenin?”

“He’s the shittiest of them all.” Toji mutters.

“Who?” Sukuna asks quietly.

“Naoya.” You whisper the name, bitter and disgusting in your mouth.

“Oh shit. Mommy, that's bad taste.” Satoru says, and you watch the room put their heads in their hands.

“I know, okay, trust me. Leaving him wasn’t easy, that’s why I ended up having to come here, it’s not like he has much to do with our son. Touma doesn’t even remember him. But he did call me today.”

“He did what now?” Sukuna’s grip makes you wince just a bit, it’s so tight. “If he calls you I really should know from now on, you have no clue how dangerous he is.”

“I was with him for years, I do know.” You stand then, taking a breath, and shaking your head. “I should go… dance or something.”

Sukuna’s saying your name, and Toji is trying to apologize, but you can’t stand another moment, wondering how even here Naoya fucks with you. But it’s just moments before Sukuna is yanking you off the stage, literally picking you up, and carrying you to his office, sitting you right on his desk. Your breasts are heaving up and down with each breath when he caresses your cheek, surprisingly gentle.

“What’d he say to you? Did he threaten you?” Sukuna murmurs, you shake your head.

“Just mean shit, like I must miss him, and who would want me. His typical poison he likes to throw, nothing more.” You swipe at tears that form, falling down your cheeks, and Sukuna feels rage destroying him from the inside.

“And you surely know it’s bullshit, hmm?”

“I told him to fuck off.” You smile just a bit, a hand slipping over a strong chest, one you wonder about, how far do these tattoos lead? How does he look with it off? The thoughts tantalize you to no end. “You helped me do that.”

“Good girl.” You exhale, biting your lower lip, as he spreads your thighs, standing between them and leaning over you. “If he calls you anymore, tell me, you don’t want to know all what he’s into, he could hurt you.”

“He never has, like physically at least.”

“Just promise me, I can’t protect you if you don’t.” You frown then at that, nodding.

“But my kid is most important to me, Sukuna.”

“Then I’ll make you both safe, even the little… kid or whatever.” He grumbles, melting you utterly, you blink rapidly, pulling on his tie, your lips a breath from his now, tasting the sweetness of his breath.

“Why are you so good to me already?”

“I haven’t been good to you yet. Or you’d be fucked out.” He says, whispering those words, you’re kissing him now, gasping when you feel the numbness of your lips, and he chuckles a bit. “It’ll go away.”

“Will I get…”

“No, it won’t fuck you up. But I will.” You’re back to kissing him, his lips working over yours again and again, big hand slipping down the small of your back. “Take the day off, I need you all day I can’t wait for later.”

“I can’t, Sukuna.”

“I’ll pay you three times your average day.”

You shake your head at him, lips parted in a moan when he presses his clothed cock against your dripping wet pussy, your hands cling to his suit jacket, whining out. “Don’t pay me, I don’t wanna be that way…”

“I’m fucking rich, baby, just take it. Give it to your kid, I don’t know.”

You snort at him, your entire body responding to his every touch. “Sukuna, you don’t give a little kid money like that!”

“I don’t know what you do with those things.” You burst out laughing at him, and he glares, while you swipe back a lock of pink hair. “Take. The. Day. Off.”

You certainly do take the day off, and soon you’re in the back of the limo you’d watched Sukuna climb into many times, but now it’s just you and him, and you’re kissing him, straddling his lap, nothing on you but that lingerie and his suit jacket. He’s under you, feeling your cunt against him, ready to fuck into you, fill you, you’re driving him so crazy he’s sensitive.

If he busts from this he will never forgive himself, so he pushes you off, on your back now, you’re breathless as you look up at him, his coat is swallowing your body, so small compared to him, your eyes locked on his, so gorgeous it makes him want to be stupid. He’d cum in you, give you more kids if that’s really what makes you so happy, fill you so good, keep you.

“Annoying.” He says then, and you blink curiously, not realizing the inner turmoil of the obsession he now has over you, this gorgeous mom who has a fucked ex, and a soaking wet pussy grinding up for attention against his thigh. This mom who he’d make a mom a million times over, and he doesn’t even know you.

“I’m annoying?” You ask curiously, he sighs now, nodding, and you just giggle a bit, more pretty, fueling his obsession as he grips your thigh then, rough thumb pressing against delicate skin. He watches your breath catch, as he feels his cock leaking precum from just touching you.

“So annoying.” He confirms, but it might as well be sweet words when he kisses you again, and then down your throat, until he gets to your pretty breasts, while the limo steadily drives you both, jostling you just a bit, only serving to put his face closer to where he wants to be.

“Sukuna, um… are you…” He’s kissing down your stomach now, nipping right at your belly button, tongue trailing a line that would previously make you so nervous, but with him you just feel…

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He murmurs, rough fingers suddenly slipping under your panties, making your hips buck up, clit twitching in response. “He really didn’t eat you out?”

“No, I didn’t… um, cum with him.”

What the fuck is wrong with him. Aside from the obvious.

“Hmm, then she’ll be all mine, hah.” You’re watching his eyes dilate to the point they’re black, sharp teeth biting at your thigh, while you’re drooling out of your little hole, finally he’s down there, eying your pussy in the back of this limo, groaning at the sight. “Oh you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Please, please.” You’re whimpering, and he smirks, before parting your folds, breathing on your clit and watching the little thing twitch for him.

“You’re so needy already, gonna be so fuckin’ easy, brat?”

“Sukuna please…” You glare then when he’s kissing right above your clit, your hands enwrapping in his silky pink locks, pulling just so, only making his cock harder for you.

“Need something?”

“Oh my god…” He’s spitting on your clit now, groaning as he watches it bubble and slip down your hole, and you’re squeaking, only earning his chuckle.

“M’gonna have so much fun with you, baby, shit.” He slips two fingers down and up your slit, still just breathing on your damn clit, as your hands fall from his hair, instead clinging to his shoulders, feeling the broad shoulders move under your touch. “Perfect pussy, fuck you for it, shit.”

“Fuck me for it!?”

“Better than I could even picture, stroking my cock every day this week, so much it’s raw damn near. Almost cumming from kissing, you do this shit.” You’re lost in the sensations of his two fingers sinking inside you then, pressing up and finding that spongy spot so fast you can’t breathe, screaming out, back arching. “There it is, dumb fuck couldn’t find it huh?”

“God no he couldn’t. F-fuck!” You whine out as Sukuna flicks his tongue against your clit now, a sensation you can’t describe, hot and sticky as it laps at your wetness, as he moans at your sweetness.

“Fuck….” Sukuna wants to tease you, but he’s done once he gets that taste fully on his mouth, he’s pulling his fingers out and burying his face against you, fucking your little gummy walls with his tongue as you shatter under him. He’s moaning against you, tongue lapping all the wetness pouring out of you, as you’re clinging to his hair so hard it’s painful.

It only urges him more, your moans, your cries, how pretty you look when he stares up at you, his thumbs holding your lips open so he can fuck you even better with his tongue. He feels your walls fluttering, gripping his wet muscle, feels you tense when his nose bumps your clit, you’re screaming out, so loud it’s echoing in the limo, and he knows it then.

He’ll never get enough of you.

Just tasting you is better than any girl he’s fucked, and there have been a lot, shit he’s never enjoyed eating pussy like this either. He’s one that enjoys tasting a woman, it makes him excited to get women off, he’s never been selfish. But to love it like this? God no one tastes like you.

You’re falling apart now, he can feel it, when you’re mumbling incoherently, sniffling, thighs squeezing his head, just urging him on more and more, as he drinks your sticky clear cum all up. Your sounds are filling his ears, mixing with the racing of his damn pulse, his cock oozing precum and making him sticky. He could cum just eating your pussy.

Fuck, he thinks he’s already in love with you.

“M’gonna, Sukuna I’m c–close I…” You’re whispering, pulling at his hair, as the sensation of him devouring you takes over, and he smirks up at you then, pulling off for the first breath you’ve seen the man take.

Is he human even!?

“Cum all over m’face, be a good girl, huh brat?” You nod weakly, fuck you need no urging to cum, but you needed to know it was okay, you want and crave his permission for some insane reason.

When he’s back buried against you, your body convulses, all this pressure in your tummy letting go, until your orgasm has your back arching, has your pussy drenching his handsome face. Sukuna’s moaning, hands tightly gripping your hips, drinking every bit of your arousal that pools, as your cunt now pulses around his tongue, and you’re crying it feels so good.

The orgasm breaks your brain, whatever was left of it from him, you can’t remember ever even having a damn thought but this. You’re whining his name out over and over as he pulls back grinning so damn sexy and arrogant from between your thighs, lapping his tongue up to your clit now, and you scream out hoarsely as he bites your little clit.

“Oh m-my god, f-fuck it’s too much!” He chuckles again, shaking his head as he slips two fingers back in your hole, now soaked and sucking them up so easy, as your pussy drools down his hand to his rings, to his rolex.

“You’re so messy, huh? Look at you, all over me, all over these seats, fuck.” He huffs, enamored with how wet he has you, and your eyes struggle to look down, you squeak a bit, so cute he smiles.

“I’m s-so sorry I’m n-never, Sukuna I’m gonna cum again, fuck!” He curls his fingers in your slick walls, you hear the lewd sound of the squelching wetness in the limo now, it’s obscene, mixing with his moans as he flicks his tongue on the underside of your clit. “Ah s’good-mnh!”

“Cum again for me, lemme drink you all up, messy girl.” You’re coming undone for him, with each flick of his tongue as he now presses up his fingers on that spongy little spot, and you see stars behind eyes as they roll back in your skull. It’s so good you’re crying as he rides out your second orgasm, slurping sounds of Sukuna drinking you even louder, just making it headier.

“Mnh… ngh… ah…” You’re unable to form a word, a twitching mess under him, while he licks more of your slick off his lower lip, grinning down at the mess he’s made you, your pretty face covered in tears and drool.

“Ah, look at you baby, so fucked out, don’t even have my dick yet, hmm?” He taunts now, fingers scissoring in and out as he leans over you, cupping your face with his other hand now.

“Want it, want it.” You’re reaching for him as he hisses, losing control once you find his bulge over his pants, kissing you again, now you taste yourself, making you lap the arousal off his lips, as you’re eagerly unbuckling him, for the limo to stop. He takes a breath, pausing your hand then, wrapping you back in his jacket and adjusting you, as you cling to him eagerly. “Need you.”

“Fuck if I don’t need you, driving me insane.” He grumbles, adjusting himself then, and soon you’re in the elevator, kissing again, riding up to Sukuna’s penthouse, you have your phone going off and he scowls at it. “Better not be him.”

“It may be Miwa.” You take a breath as you look at the phone, smiling then, it’s just a little picture of Touma happily grinning with a cookie, you show Sukuna, and he sees your damn face light up, making him falter a bit.

God you’re beautiful lit up.

Sukuna would do anything to keep you this way.

“He’s getting spoiled. Sukuna, thank you for this… I was so worried, being away for a night but… I can’t wait.” You say softly, as you step inside, you barely get to look around however, because he’s pressing you against a wall, leaning low and grinning now, white teeth glinting under soft white lights from the high ceiling.

“I hope you can keep up with me, brat.” He says, before picking you up in his arms like you’re nothing, pulling the hair at the nape of your neck. “You’re getting no sleep tonight.”

Kuna is so in love already aha. Part three coming soon (just like Kuna about to lol) There will be a LOT more drama and plot along with some freaky ass smut and a whole fuck session next chap. If you wanna get tagged and aren't already on one of the lists just lmk - also omg ty for the love on the first part!?!?!

If you're interested in Satoru from this here's his headcanons so far

Taglist #1 - @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @minaa-06 @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist - ©All works by Madamechrissy you may not reproduce

[winterst4n]

Sit still!

Pairing: Nurse!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Very, very light swearing. Just pure fluff!!

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: After stupidly jumping out of a craft on a mission, ending up with many broken ribs. Bucky is placed under your care unwillingly and he makes the week hell for you. But when the week ends he starts to regret everything.

A/N: This is pretty short and maybe i’ll come back to it another time and try something new but so far i like how this turned out. If you like this, i’d really appreciate it if you could share or leave comment!

“Will you just sit still?!” You grumble at Bucky for what feels like the millionth time today.

“Well stop poking me and maybe I will.” He practically hissed at you. You swear that when Fury assigned you to take care of him he was plotting your early death– or at least Bucky's death.

“If you sit still I'll give you a cookie…” you try to bribe, but of course this just earned you a very hard and angry glare from Bucky.

Due to Bucky’s recklessness on a recent mission, he is now under your care until he can breathe without whining and groaning about his ribs, which he broke several of. He thought the easiest and quickest way to land by a mission base was to jump out of the craft without a parachute– stupid!

You were the nice nurse. The nurse everyone on the team liked to be cared for the most when they had an injury, except a certain fossil. He was grumpy and rude to you for no reason, always making an effort to ruin your day with some stupid comment every time he saw you. But this week had been hell!

So here he was pouting and glaring at you in the plush armchair in your office that practically cowers under his large frame. “I need to check the progress of your ribs and I can't do that without touching you. So please…just sit still.” You sigh, your patience being stretched very, very thin.

Bucky notices your stress and annoyance with him and he does feel some sort of pity but he can’t shake this unfamiliar feeling you give him everytime he feels your hands on his body or your gaze on him. “...Fine.” He mumbles grudgingly.

You move your hands back into place against his chest, gently feeling where the broken ribs are located. Due to the serum, he had enhanced healing abilities but it never failed to amaze you how fast they fixed up his and Steve’s body.

“They’re healing just fine.” you say as you pull your hands away and move to sit by your desk. “I still don’t recommend doing any strenuous activities just yet but, you’ll live.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes like usual and keeps his unwavering scowl on his face– it annoys you and somehow hurts you to see just how unwilling he is to accept any help. That was the way HYDRA treated him though, you knew that. Hell, everyone knew that.

“James…” you start softly with a quiet sigh. “It’s just me and you in here��i need to know if you’re in pain so i can fix it.”

Silence– as expected.

He sighs and looks down at his boots, his feet shuffling slightly as he thinks about your words. Soft brown locks fall over his eyes and shields you from looking into his broken and guilty eyes. “I’m fine” a hoarse voice says so quietly.

Hesitating for a moment, you look over his body language and think about his tone. “Okay…” you respond simply, knowing not to push him.

Within the silence, Bucky stands up and storms out of your office– he almost let it all out. How did you have this effect on him? You were so easy and sweet, the complete opposite of him, he couldn’t let you in and see what HYDRA did to him. You weren’t allowed to see how everytime you checked his vitals, he felt like he was back in HYDRA’s claws, back to being prepped to be shocked again. No, he had to keep you away from that.

The week passes and ends, you were no longer assigned to take care of Bucky anymore and he’s back to missions and training– avoiding you. Part of you is happy that he’s not around you everyday by force, no longer having to endure his glares and rudeness but another part of you felt shitty.

That week felt like showing Bucky for the first time that it was okay to be cared for, to be looked after with no ulterior motive except for the benefit of his health. You wish he had that reminder everyday instead of throwing himself into missions, being reckless with himself because he didn’t think his body was worth protecting. This feeling was stronger than the happiness over his departure from your care– a lot stronger.

It seems you weren’t the only one thinking about that week. After some reflecting and thinking (a.k.a, talking to Steve), he realised why he felt so strongly when you touched him and why he wanted to open up to you. Yes, he was angry at the reason why at first. Angry at himself for being so foolish and falling for the team nurse, “She’s supposed to be caring!” he repeated like a mantra. Angry at himself for feeling like it was okay to let you in, to want you to care about him, to know why he struggled.

But Steve explained to him that you weren’t as weak or as fragile as he kept insisting you were– scolding him slightly for the way he dismissed you. Bucky realised that he should probably explain some things to you– or at least apologise, you were only doing your job and he took it out on you.

That night he wrote a letter to you, the words were genuine and words he knew he would mess up if he tried to say them to his face–

“Hey, I'm sorry. I know that’s pretty generic but it’s the truth. I’m still figuring this shit out so don’t take it too personally, it’s just really hard for me. I know you were only doing your job and I'm so sorry that I made it difficult. I wish I could take it back and just be open with you. I know you would’ve treated me the way i needed if i asked, you’re sweet like that. You’re good at your job and I'm pretty sure my ribs feel even better than they did before I jumped out of that plane. Anyways, i hope you’re free tomorrow night so maybe we can grab a drink, I’ll even buy you one of those fruity cocktails if you’re into that,

James Buchanan Barnes.”

Sealing the letter, and addressing it to you on the front, he walked through the compound and eventually found your office and slid the note under the door for you to find in the morning.

But on this night in particular, you decided to stay late to finish some work, maybe by luck or fate the note arrives while you’re already there. You read through the letter and smiled softly, touched that Bucky would let you in like this, you knew it was rare considering he really only spoke to Sam and Steve.

Pocketing the note, you quickly walk down the hall to head to Bucky’s room to give him an answer. Your feet carry you as quickly as they can without running, trying to catch up to Bucky as soon as possible.

You arrive at his door and knock three times in a very desperate motion before the door swings open. There he is. In his sleepy and shocked state. He’s surprised to see you here so soon but he’s slightly anxious for your response– he’s practically anticipating for you to throw the letter back at him and insult him.

To his surprise, you don’t. “I don’t need a fruity cocktail, I'd prefer a coffee…tomorrow morning, in my office?” you say softly as you bite your lip back gently in anticipation.

Bucky’s eyes seem locked in place on your face, his lips parted from surprise until they slowly break into the tiniest smile that lights up his face in your eyes, a smile that gives you a glimpse into the charming soldier before HYDRA.

“Coffee it is then, Doll” he says in a low tone before gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, wanting to fully see your face in all its beauty. Wanting to see the face of the person he was about to let into his life and hopefully never let go of.

[hanniebaeee]

Hubby Dearest

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, suggestive, very naked jinnie MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: Hyunjin calls out for a towel from the shower. You're annoyed with him, so you don't help. So yeah.

Hosting a New Year’s party sounded fun in theory, but the reality? It was such a pain. Between cleaning, decorating, and prepping food, your sanity was running wild, and your husband was doing absolutely nothing helpful.

“Hyunjin, I swear, if you don’t get up right now -” You glared at him as he lay sprawled on the couch, giving you a grin.

“Relax, babe,” he said, flashing a smile. “I’m your moral support.”

Moral support? You picked a cushion and threw it at him.

“The boys will be here in an hour!” you snapped, shoving a tray of glasses onto the dining table.

“And?” He raised a brow, gave you a flirty look. “They’re family. They won’t care if there’s a speck of dust somewhere.”

“That’s not the point,” you began. “You're not even ready yet and -”

But whatever else you had to say got stuck in your throat as Hyunjin stood, stretching lazily like a cat. Then with a devilish grin, he stepped close. So close, his chest touched yours.

Damn him.

“You’re ogling again,” he teased.

“Am not!” you snapped, cheeks burning. 

“Babe, you’ve been mad at me all day! You know that I love it when you're snappy,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, if you want some attention, all you have to do is ask.”

“Oh please,” you groaned, crossing your arms and pretending you weren’t distracted by how good he smelled.

“Come here,” his voice dropped an octave as he leaned down, lips brushing yours.

“Hyunjin!” you shove him lightly, but your heart raced wildly.

He laughed, taking a step back.

“Relax. I’ll go take a cold shower, ‘cos just look at what you did to me,” He said, looking down.

So did you. If your cheeks weren't red enough, they were now, because there was a very noticeable bulge in his pants now.

And you did absolutely nothing for this to have happened. Your eyes met his as he winked and walked towards the bathroom, leaving you feeling completely numb. 

About fifteen minutes later, you were putting down the last of the dishes on the dining table when Hyunjin’s voice echoed from the bathroom.

"Baby?!"

You sighed.

"BAAAABE!"

"What, Hyunjin?" you called back, huffing in annoyance.

"There are no towels in here!"

Ah, yes. He was supposed to put the towels in the bathroom earlier. But of course, he was too busy being a princess to do that.

"That sounds like a you problem!" you yelled, grinning with pure satisfaction.

"Y/N! Don’t do this to me!"

You ignored him entirely, going back to clicking pictures of everything you've set up. He could learn a lesson about responsibility for once. You hear him calling out to you again, this time, his voice whiny.

Not today, Satan.

You thought you'd won. For a moment, there was silence, and you actually thought you'd won. 

Then you heard the bathroom door open.

“Y/N,” came his low, warning voice.

You turned your head, and your brain short circuited.

Because there stood Hyunjin, stark naked, water running down every inch of his perfect, glistening body, his hair wet and messy. His hands rested on his hips, and he looked so damn smug, as if he didn't just kill you.

"I figured if you weren’t bringing me a towel, I’d bring myself to you," he drawled, sauntering toward you, his wet footprints trailing behind him.

Your jaw dropped as you squealed, "HYUNJIN!"

"What?" He smirked, leaning forward, his face right in front of yours. "You’re the one who left me hanging. Fair’s fair, babe."

"You’re… dripping on the rug!" you sputtered, slapping your forehead.

"Am I? Guess we better clean it up," he said with a wink, leaning closer. His was so completely intoxicating, the scent of his body wash mingling with the heat radiating off his skin.

"You’re unbelievable," you muttered, trying to maintain your composure, even though your brain was urging you to put your hands on him. 

"And you’re ridiculous for thinking you could win this game," he shot back, brushing his lips to yours in a teasing kiss.

“They’re going to be here soon,” you tried again, though your resolve was quickly crumbling under his touch.

"Then, be a good girl and get me a towel." He whispered. 

Well, you had to laugh. 

"Fine," you giggled, but as you made your escape toward your bedroom, he called to you again. 

"Babe? You might wanna hurry. I’m cold."

You should've known better. Should’ve known that a towel wouldn’t end this. Not with Hyunjin.

He had followed you into the bedroom like a puppy and as you handed him the towel, you caught his smirk - one that screamed, I’m not done with you yet.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, casually slinging the towel over his shoulder instead of wrapping it around his waist.

“Jinnie, dry off and get ready!” you said, glancing at the clock. The boys were going to arrive soon, and here he was, dripping wet and still very naked. 

“Yeah yeah, what's the rush?” He cocked his head, feigning innocence.

“Oh my God” you sighed, eyeing the puddles of water he'd left everywhere. 

“I just wanna spend some time with my beautiful wife before everyone gets here,” he said with a shrug.

“Baby,” you said. “Please wear some clothes…please?”

“Hmm?  But why?” he hummed, stepping closer.

And then just like that his lips were on yours, hungry and demanding. The towel fell off his shoulder to the floor as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his wet body.

You stumbled back from the force with which he was on you, and put your hand on his shoulders for support.

You gasped as his hands slipped down, resting on your ass as he gave you a cheeky grin.

“They’ll be here any minute!” you whispered.

“Then we’ll make it quick,” he murmured, lifting you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed.

“Hyunjin, no -”

“Y/N, yes,” he shot back, grinning like the menace he was as he laid you down, his weight settling over you.

His lips were so warm as they traced a path from your jaw to your collarbone.

“Jinnie I swear you're crazy,” you whispered, though your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

“Oh please, you love it,” he countered, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he silenced you with another kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and caressing yours softly.

“Jinnie,” you breathed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Yes, my love?”

Before you could say anything, you head the sound of a car door closing, and Chan's loud laugh. 

Your eyes widened and you said, “Oh my God, they’re here!”

Hyunjin grinned, completely unbothered. You shoved him off you and scrambled to fix your dress (which was crumbled now).

He laughed, grabbing the towel from the floor and finally wrapping it around his waist. He sat on the bed, watching you fix your make up and when you turned to face him, your heart skipped a beat at how adorable he actually looked. 

You stepped closer, wiping your lipstick smeared on his lips and chin with your hand. 

“Can you please put on some clothes now? Please baby?” You asked.

“I'll think about it,”

“Please do,” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead, leaving a perfectly red imprint of your lips on his skin.

“Thanks for that, wifey,” he cooed.

“Oh you're welcome hubby dearest,” you said, your eyes trailing down his body with a grin, lingering on a particular problem. "And... fix that."

Tags:

@moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

[ponderingmoonlight]

Oh, to be trapped with Dante

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: What's worse than getting trapped with Dante? Getting trapped with a stripping Dante.

Warnings: this is hilarious and fluffy at the same time, I'm still begging for Dante requests so get in my inbox if you have one, hope you like it @veijdana

You’re not sure what sets it off.

Maybe it’s the faulty lock. Maybe the door was always a little off its axes. Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour when it comes to you and that guy.

What you do know for sure is this: the door slams shut, there’s a sharp click, and no amount of jiggling the handle is getting you out of this storage room-slash-death trap. No windows, no signal, and the only light is from a flickering overhead bulb that looks like it could give up at any moment.

Perfect.

So much to being the greatest demon hunters of them all.

You turn slowly to Dante, who’s lounging against a metal shelf stacked with boxes labeled “Supplies” like this is nothing. Like he didn’t just help trap you both in a glorified closet with a single bottle of water and a half-eaten protein bar. Like he did something except for watching you struggle with that heavy ass door.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Problem?”

“The door’s locked.”

“I noticed,” he replies, utterly unbothered.

“Dante.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, barely able to hold it together any longer.

“Please don’t call me that right now.”

“Noted,” he declares, in a tone that means absolutely not noted.

He strolls over, casually tests the door for himself, then shrugs.

“Yeah. We’re stuck.”

“No kidding.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone finds us.”

“Which could be hours. Or days.”

He grins, shameless.

“Even better.”

You sit down hard the cold ground. It creaks threateningly, but you’re too irritated to care. He paces once, twice, then flops down across from you like this is a vacation, arms behind his head, one leg draped over the other ready to sunbathe.

Except this isn’t Miami beach but a mouse trap.

“Are you always this calm when you’re locked in small spaces with people you annoy for fun?” you question innocently.

“Only when it’s you.”

You narrow your eyes, gaze spitting thick venom at him.

“Do you actually enjoy pushing my buttons this much, or is it just some kind of defense mechanism?”

“Little column A, little column B,” he thinks out loud, flashing you a lazy smile.

“But if we’re being honest… you're kind of cute when you’re mad.”

You throw a balled-up wrapper at him. He ducks it easily, still smirking.

The minutes stretch. Then an hour. The silence tries to creep in, but Dante won’t let it. He talks. About nonsense. Old missions, weird dreams, things he overheard once that he probably wasn’t supposed to. You try not to laugh. You really try.

Eventually, you’re sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, legs stretched out, head tilted toward him without meaning to. He’s closer now, somehow. At some point. The distance between you shrunk while you weren’t paying attention.

“I think you like being trapped with me,” he mutters, voice quieter now.

Less teasing, if that’s somehow possible.

“You haven’t told me to shut up in, like, ten whole minutes.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“That’s because I’ve accepted my fate. Resistance is clearly useless. And somehow I get the feeling it turns you on even more.”

“Exactly. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

He bumps your knee with his. You don’t move away. No, somehow, this faint touch has a comfort to it, a warmth you haven’t felt for quite some time by now.

The silence now is different. Thicker. Weighted. Like you’re both suddenly aware of how still everything is. How alone. It’s just you and him. You and the walking sex symbol itself Dante.

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

“This is the part where you make some dumb joke about body heat, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, low.

“Tempting. But no. Not yet.”

You glance at him.

“Yet?”

He shrugs.

“I’m giving you a few more hours before I wear down your defenses. I’m not a complete monster.”

You shake your head, lips twitching despite yourself.

Another stretch of silence. Then:

“You ever think about it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, caught off guard by that strange and unexpected question.

“About what?”

“Us. Like - if this whole ridiculous situation wasn’t so ridiculous. If it was… different.”

Your stomach does something complicated. You turn your head to look at him, your palms starting to get sweaty. Why do you always feel like this when he’s around?

He’s watching you, eyes dark and serious for once. No smirk. No teasing.

“Yeah. Sometimes,” you admit quietly.

A beat.

“I like the idea,” he confesses.

You nod.

“Me too.”

He shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours now, solid and warm and real. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Still not sharing my blanket, though.”

You snort.

“I’m not cold.”

“Yet.”

You laugh. And this time, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Just a little.

Just enough.

Bonus:

You're curled on one side of the room, using your jacket as a pillow. Dante's a few feet away, stretched out like he owns the floor, arms folded behind his head. The silence has gone companionable, easy. You almost forget where you are.

Until he moves.

You hear the rustle of fabric first. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

You lift your head, every single alarm going off inside your head. No, he isn’t about to strip…Is he?

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to sleep,” he remarks like it’s obvious.

Which it isn’t.

At all.

Because his shirt is coming off, and now he’s unbuttoning his pants in the dim light of the room, clearly visible to your accustomed to dark gaze.

“Dante-”

“What?” he interrupts, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I always sleep naked.”

You sit up straighter, just the thought of seeing him naked, let alone shirtless...

“You are not - you can’t just strip.”

He shrugs, already stepping out of his jeans like this is just another Tuesday with a pizza waiting on his desk for him.

“It helps with thermoregulation. Look it up.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, turning away.

“You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you’re not telling me to stop.”

You don’t. You don’t want to. Which is the worst part.

He stretches out again, now under the thin blanket you both agreed to not share (but he’s already claimed half of), bare chest barely hidden in the dark, a picture of shameless comfort.

You try not to look. You try.

He catches you anyway.

“See something you like?”

“See something I want to throw a box at.”

He laughs - low, satisfied, like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Relax. It’s not like I’m gonna pounce on you.”

“You better not.”

“Unless you ask nicely.”

You grab your jacket and hurl it at his face. He catches it one-handed, grinning like he’s thriving on your outrage.

“Goodnight, Dante.”

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

You lie back, trying to will your pulse to settle. But you can still hear him breathing across the room, steady and slow, and you swear you feel the heat from him bleeding across the short distance between you.

The night settles heavy. And you're very aware you’re trapped with a half-naked Dante, no door, no escape, and a dangerous lack of personal space.

Sleep is going to be impossible.

And you think he knows it.

“I still feel you staring-“

“Shut the hell up, Dante.”

[angelltheninth]

Would you write one piece men with a size kink with Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law, Crocodile, Doflamingo and Mihawkc please?

(Some are so tall that a size kink is inevitable)

That is true, a lot of these man are really tall! Great height if you ask me.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro, Sanji Vinsmoke, Portgas D. Ace, Dracule Mihawk, Trafalgar Law, Crocodile, Donquixote Doflamingo x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, gentle sex, praise, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, sub/dom dynamics, power imbalance

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Kinda looking forward to that new anime adaptation. Maybe this time we can get no fillers.

Zoro admires you for trying to take his dick after you only came once. He knows it won't happen, he needs to loosen you up with his fingers, spread you open on them and then when your pussy is begging to be filled push inside. While he can be rough in combat and harsh with you sometimes he is very careful when having sex with you. Almost like he's a different man, all soft and asking if you're okay, if you can still take more or should he stop.

Sanji constantly teases you by telling you that you can't take all of him and is more than happy to be proven wrong. When you come and he's barely half way inside of you he will get the most annoying smirk on his face and tell you he told you so. Should have listened to him, but then you get sick of his taunting and take his cock all the way at once. He has to admit that's impressive but still you shouldn't force yourself just for his pleasure, not that he doesn't enjoy it.

Ace feels bad about how big he is because he can always tell that taking his entire cock is a struggle for you, no matter the hole. Creampies might be one of his favorite things, and he really wants to get you pregnant when you're far into your relationship but even then he's careful while pushing his girthy cock into your tight wetness. His eyes roll back when he bottoms out. To him just the fact that you're willing to take all if him is a testament to how much you love him.

Mihawk honestly doesn't care if you can take all of him or not but he loves how he dwarfed you in size of everything. His fingers fill you so easily, his cock feels heavy on your tongue and in your hand, his body looms over yours. It's dominance and he doesn't even have to try that hard. Of course he can't deny the pleasure he experiences when you sit on his cock, taking him in fully and begging, mumbling for more, to be filled up and stretched out.

Law starts out very gentle and lets you get rougher, he usually encourages you to. The first time you took all of him he actually couldn't believe it, you were so determined too. Since then he never had sex with you without sheathing all of himself inside of you and watching your eyes roll back when he hits the deepest parts of you. Usually he had to hold back in previous relationships but not with you and that is very refreshing.

Crocodile barely gives you time to adjust to his length before fucking you so hard you almost pass out. The only thing keeping you conscious is that he is ordering you to be and you've never been able to refuse his orders, he was in charge. In his eyes you're his perfidious lover but also his favorite cocktoy, there's no pussy better than yours. He will tell you so too, every time you take him all the way in.

Doflamingo knows he's a bit too much for you but he never lets you pull away until he bottoms out in you. If you try to get away he grabs you harder and keeps you still. Smirks down at you, cooing at you, teasing you by going even slower do you can feel every inch of his dick splitting you open. Let the bruises on your hips and throat be a lesson to you, never try to get away from him when he's balls deep in your cunt.

[k1mbe3rly]

Hi :-)

A Request for all of us are death (sorry if its double now somehow my Internet Connection kicked me out)

What about an oneshot or head canons what ever works better for you to work with - Yoon Gwi-nam x shy girlfried who is super loyal to him and stands by his side no matter what?

loveee

Gwi nam dating a shy girl headcannons

warnings: smut, gentle?gwi nam

- Gwi nam is very protective of you especially since your very shy and not that talkative, so when someone is telling/scolding you, he basically talks for you

- He loves your tits so much, he loves teasing your nipple and seeing them get hard against his fingers

- Gwi nam likes to show you off in public, he likes to hold your hand or have a hand around your shoulder just so people can see yall are dating, a few people know not to talk to you especially with Gwi nam on your side

- He would also show you off in many ways, he’ll fuck you in a janitors closet or a empty classroom, he also loves to give you hickeys where he knows people are able to see, he also likes when you give him a few hickeys as well

- Gwi nam gets mad very easily, and sometimes even takes it out on you by yelling at you or just raising a hand up, but he won’t actually hit you maybe just a shove

- He also loves taking his anger out on you in different ways, shoving his cock deep into you and pulling your hair back, slapping your ass as he whispers dirty things into your ear

- Gwi nam absolutely hates when you stop him from beating a kid up, but of course he listens to you since he figured your way to innocent to see him brutally beat some kid up, he gets annoyed and even asks “why the fuck do you care? you like him or something ?” he also makes you hit them sometimes “Go on. Give him a little slap to the face, just do something!”

- If he’s already annoyed at something and you protesting to stop him from beating a kid up, he would fuck you infront of them, forcing them to look at you as you get your insides ruined, he also makes you look up at the person and tell them that only he’s able to stretch you out the way he does and fuck you like the way he does

- Gwi nam who doesn’t show that much affection in public, he makes sure he doesn’t do too much infront of you or have anyone talk to you a lot especially if you don’t talk much and usually quiet, that’s how he noticed you in the first place. Admiring how silent and gorgeous you are focusing on the board and writing down notes

- He’s able to make you loud as well. Your moans filled up the bedroom yall were in, as skin slapping was heard as well as he watched how your mouth was parted open with moans falling out, he loves seeing you so loud for him

- Gwi nam actually tries to change for you, his behavior and how he acts, which was shocking to himself since he used girls and just threw them away, he noticed how he was acting around you like a nervous teenage boy trying to impress his crush, he even tried studying with you which turned out awefully causing him to groan in frustration and leave, he also checks if anyone is around and gives you hugs but than acts like he doesn’t care with a nonchalant face

- He does love you a lot which is why he fucks you a lot, not because he wants you for your body, but because he’s grown used to how tight you were around his cock, he absolutely loved feeling it tighten up even more, he even once tried going gentle but it just doesn’t work out and he even apologized!? “Sorry- but this gentle fucking isn’t working for me, awh- fuck!” he says as he begins thrusting even faster his hands curling into your hair

Apocalypse au

- Gwi nam who absolutely protects you with everything when the apocalypse breaks out. Killing people and beating them up if they ever get in yalls way from running away, but unfortunately you had somehow got separated from him, he was stressing out when he lost you, nowhere to be seen and even got turned into a Hambie

- Gwi nam who finds you hiding in class room shaking and crying and tries to go up to you and finds you backing up from him, he reassures that he’s not gonna bite/hurt you, you told him to just stay where he’s at and he listen, you guys sat separately as finally you gave into him and crawled towards him crying into his chest

- Gwi nam tries to calm you down but obviously he’s not the best at it “It’s okay.. your gonna make it out alive and we’re gonna have the best time together, well that’s if you make it alive..” he says as you cry harder at the thought of being into a zombie

- Gwi nam who makes you follow him and even kills off a few zombies for you, he finds Nayeon in a room with a bag of food, you watched as they interacted until he suddenly bit into her, you flinched at the sight and once he was done, he goes to you hugging you tightly, you were shaking in his arms as he spoke “Your never gonna leave me..okay? i love you so much. I’ll kill anyone for you especially in this state, I’ll help you get out of here, now here, eat this” he said giving you the bag of food

[totallynotpochacco]

𐙚𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬⋆.•̩̩͙*˚ ❀

Contains; Somnophilia; It’s based off of a MSI song; I linked it in the title; MDNI!!! This can get a bit mean? Or nasty; lots of cursing; also idk what I’m doing i haven’t watched I’m just gooning; this is more about mark than you so he doesn’t really kiss you or focus on your pleasure (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥)

Not proofread!!

Pairings; Mohawk!Mark x reader

Gen; Fem!

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

“Those sluts couldn’t compare to you, and they still can’t. Besides I don’t care if you’re not my, ___, controlling you makes me better.”

Someone meaningless, insignificant, is what he needed.

Someone to control and make him feel alive.

And who better than his naive, loser, of a childhood friend, who didn’t know any better?

On his plot to takeover the world, you had refused him, punched and kicked, and pissed him off until he snapped. And man did he regret it in the end. He sulked for days, trying to find a replacement.

Never did tho, until he was offered that deal.

He put two and two together, realizing, another dimension means another you.

Which also means he’ll do it right this time. He won’t play the long game like he did last time. No, this time he will take what he wants, when he wants it.

It didn’t take him much time to find your apartment, realizing how dumb this mark was for not taking you sooner. Who could pass up on such a cute and stupid brat like yourself?

Obviously you were a bit different in this world, different styles and room decor than the last one but hey, if you still got the body and attitude he doesn’t gaf.

He wanted to surprise you, make you feel a bit uneasy. So he waited until your back was turned to tap on windows or even sneak in to move some items.

Which gave him a laugh when you would stop and pause trying to give everything a reasonable explanation. How dumb.

Night came fast, and he watched as you crawled into bed.

Being as quiet as possible he admired you. Running gentle fingers up the length of your body. Starting at your hips going to your shoulder. A finger curling around some loose strands, sniffing it a bit. Oh what joy, you even still smell the same.

His hard on can wait he thought, he wanted to taste you first. Get accustomed with your body again, then if you’re good maybe even you.

peeling back the blankets, he dragged his hands up your legs and to your thighs pulling them apart to find some cute underwear, to bad he’s going to rip them apart.

Tossing the shredded clothing somewhere across the room he licked a fat strip up your clit, feeling your hips twitch underneath him felt like heaven. He continued his ministrations on you, pausing every time he thought you’d wake up.

You were prepared enough he thought, now it’s time to wake up.

He dropped your legs for a minute, quickly undressing and leaving his suit discarded with your torn underwear before picking back up where he left off.

Dick hard and painful he didn’t waste time plunging into you without mercy. Not like he believed you deserved it. Especially with how you acted before. It’s like your punishment for not coming with him.

The painful stretch woke you up with a shout. Startled and confused, you looked up to see your best friend, or what looked like him? His hair and devious smile threw you off. “Mark?!” You moaned, feeling his cock relentlessly fucking into you.

Mark just laughed at your reaction, “that’s me, baby! The one and only, not to mention your new boyfriend.”

Before you could question him, his hand went to your throat, his gaze turning mean and annoying, but his movements didn’t stop, “you know, you were a total bitch to me before. You wouldn’t just do what I say? Accidentally killed you because of that.”

His grunts becoming louder as his pace sped up. Lewd sounds of your cunt filled the room, and it made your cheeks heat up with embarrassment and fear. He killed you?! What have you gotten yourself into..

“Listen sweet cheeks, I’ve been needing someone as meaningless as you to justify my existence. So I gotta thank you.” He said pushing your knees to your chest, hitting that one spot that has you seeing stars.

“Nobody feels like you do, you just give me that feeling! One glance at you and I’m so hard. It’s almost painful. Good thing you’ll take care of it from now on. Right?” His hand slapped your face a bit, trying to bring you back to the moment. Seeing your blissed out face got his blood rushing straight to his dick. You nodded a bit. Trying to respond to him was a bit difficult, with your moans becoming louder and more frequent.

He wanted more, needed more. Mark needed to feel his cum dripping out of your sweet cunt. He was already enjoying the feeling of it fluttering around him and squeezing him so tightly every time he hit your cervix. It was amazing to him.

And you had to admit this was the best sex you had in a long time. You felt wanted, maybe even used, but it was so good, so delicious and wrong. You felt that coil in your stomach tighten.

“Mark! M’gonna- gonna cum!” You moaned, head falling back into the pillows, hips jolting with every thrust.

“Go ahead, baby. Think you earned it for taking me so good.” He laughed, feeling your cunt spasming around him sent shivers down his spine as he unloaded his cum into you.

Yet he continued fucking you through your orgasams and into overstimulation. Which only made him shake his head as heard pleas falling from your pouty lips.

“Please-! Slow down, can’t, mphmf- take it! Dont even know you..” you whined as he switched positions easily. Manhandling you like it was nothing. Dick pistoning back in you with your ass against his hips, and a hand pushing your head into the pillows.

“I. don’t. think so, babe. You’re gonna have to take it. Those sluts couldn’t compare to you, and they still can’t. Besides I don’t care if you’re not my, ___, controlling you makes me better. So, I say when we’re done.” He grunted, punctuating some of his words with his thrusts.

Before you could even comprehend his words he leaned down and whispered, “Fucking you will make me stronger.”

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

Guys I’ve don’t write smut well so this might’ve sucked! Anyways thanks for making it this far! Bye!!

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Crowe has been working himself into the ground dealing with the never-ending mountain of student council paperwork, ridiculous club requests, and—worst of all—the ever-demanding student council president.��

You've begged him, time and time again, to get an assistant, but of course, he refuses. Something about ‘not trusting anyone’ and ‘preferring to suffer in silence’ like some kind of tragic protagonist. So, naturally, you took matters into your own hands. if Crowe won’t take care of himself? Well, you’ll just have to do it for him.

Even if it means driving him absolutely insane in the process.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: this was a request from anon! so, of course, my dumbass turned it into a full-blown story. MIND YOU, I’VE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH THIS FOR THREE WEEKS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE ENDING. And it's not really poof read as I just annoyed looking at it but i haven’t written crowe in a minute, so here we are.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: overworked student council vp!crowe x assistant!reader, afab!reader, chaotic & teasing, reader takes no shit, boss/assistant relationship, mutual pining, secret relationship, possessive behavior, possessive crowe, sassy reader, fluff and smut, slow burn (kinda), soft dom!crowe, playful sub!reader, and mutual obsession  

Soo……

What’s an assistant? you should already know

Well, an assistant can be a person who helps someone else—or a device, or a product designed to make life easier. Something you’d been telling Jericho Ichabod—sorry, Crowe, Prince Charming himself—that he desperately needed.  

The campus was alive with its usual midday bustle. From noon to around two, the student center became a chaotic mess of movement and noise. 

The hallways were clogged with students threading through the crowd, half-zipped backpacks slung over shoulders, their conversations weaving together into a dull roar.  The on-campus market beeped and whirred as it spat out overpriced snacks, and groups of friends hovered near the food court, laughing, talking, and shoving each other playfully before heading to their next class.  

None of it really registered with you.  

While the rest of the student body thrived in the high-energy atmosphere, instead, you moved at a different pace—faster and more worried.

Your thoughts were elsewhere as Crowe had been on your mind since the moment Geo had texted you while you were in the middle of your classes. ‘He's stuck with more student council crap,’ as Geo had so eloquently put it.  

That wasn’t surprising. 

Crowe had a habit of stretching himself too thin, juggling responsibilities like it was some kind of sport. But what bothered you wasn’t just the workload—it was that, for all his charm and effortless control, he never let anyone see when it got to him.

You’d planned to meet him for lunch today, a rare breather in the middle of his overbooked schedule, but now you weren’t even sure if he’d bother to eat.  

Annoying.  

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you made your way upstairs toward the student council room. It was tucked away in a quieter part of the building, hidden beside the upper-level seating area where students went to eat lunch away from the main chaos. You’d come straight here after class—your day was already done, but his, knowing him, was far from over.  

And if he thought he could brush this off like everything else? 

Yeah, no. Not happening.

The second you reached the door, the noise from the hallway seemed to dull, like the chaos of the outside world just couldn’t quite reach this space. The air felt heavier here, still in a way that made you hesitate. Even the fluorescent lights above barely made a sound, their low hum swallowed by the quiet. It was almost eerie—like stepping into a place that existed just slightly out of sync with the rest of reality.   

Through the small window on the other door, you spotted him.  

Crowe was hunched over his desk, his shoulders drawn tight with the kind of tension that looked like it had settled there hours ago. His head was bent low, nearly buried in a mountain of papers that had practically taken over his entire workspace.

 It wasn’t just a mess—it was a battlefield of assignments, reports, and hastily scribbled sticky notes, some half-crumpled, others barely hanging on. His usual easygoing energy was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was only this heavy, rigid focus that clung to him like a weight.   

His fingers drummed against the desk in a steady, repetitive rhythm—soft, but insistent. You’d seen him do it before, a nervous habit, a tell he probably wasn’t even aware of. The sight of him like this, so unlike himself, made something sink in your chest.

The usual spark in his eyes—the one filled with humor, mischief, that unmistakable Crowe charm—was nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he just looked… drained.  

You hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or leave him be. Before you could decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts.  

Turning your head, you spotted Geo strolling down the hall, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. His expression was that signature mix of exasperation and indifference he always seemed to wear, like he was perpetually caught between amusement and suffering.

As he reached you, he let out a deep sigh—whether it was for dramatic effect or genuine exhaustion, it was impossible to tell. 

“He’s been at it since, like, forever,” Geo muttered, jerking his chin toward the window without breaking his stride. His boots scuffed lightly against the floor as he came to a stop beside you, one shoulder propped lazily against the doorframe. 

The bad lighting light from inside the office cast long shadows across his face, but the slight furrow in his brow was still obvious. “Pretty sure he hasn’t even looked up once. Council’s been dumping a mountain of work on him lately.”  

You followed his gaze to the desk across the room. Crowe sat hunched over a chaotic spread of papers, ink stains dotting his fingers as he scribbled something with near-frantic precision.

Again, the lighting itself was casting sharp angles against the exhaustion clinging to him. His normally neat braid was barely form together—stray strands falling into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

Your frown deepened. “He hasn’t even taken a break?”  

Geo let out a short, exasperated scoff, shaking his head. “Please. When does Jericho ever ask for help? He’s as stubborn as a damn mule when it comes to work—worse, even. Dude acts like taking a breather is some kind of mortal sin.” He tilted his head toward the office, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to concern, though he tried to keep it casual. “I mean, just look at him. He’s running on fumes. Won’t be long before he passes out face-first into those papers.”  

Something twisted uncomfortably in your chest as you studied Crowe. He was always the composed one, the one who had everything under control—even when he didn’t.

But right now? Right now, he just looked... weighed down. Buried under the sheer amount of responsibility he refused to share with anyone else.  

Geo nudged you lightly with his elbow, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You should probably go snap him out of it before he actually fuses with that desk,” he said, tone dry but not unkind. “Just... don’t expect him to admit he needs it.”  

You inhaled quietly before stepping forward, your footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Crowe didn’t react, too absorbed in whatever he was working on. Up close, the signs of his exhaustion were even clearer—dark circles under his deep blue eyes, tension carved into his shoulders, the pencil awkwardly tucked behind his ear like some absentminded afterthought.  

You lingered just long enough to take it all in before leaning down and knocking your knuckles lightly against the wooden desk. “Knock, knock,” you said, keeping your tone light. “It’s me—your lunch date-slash-concerned friend, here to drag you out of your impending paper-induced demise.”  

For the first time in what felt like hours, Crowe blinked and finally looked up. His eyes, wide and unfocused for a split second, darted around in mild panic before recognition settled in, dulling the shock. He blinked sluggishly, like he was dragging himself out of some deep, paper-induced trance, before exhaling through his nose and shifting his gaze back to the disaster zone that was his desk.  

“Oh. Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy from what was probably hours of silence. “Didn’t see you there.”  

“Yeah, no kidding. You were about five more minutes away from fusing with these papers.” You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. His posture was stiff, shoulders hunched in that telltale way that screamed exhaustion, and the dark circles under his eyes looked even worse up close. “Are you even taking a break? Or let me guess—‘I’m fine, I’ll finish soon,’ right?”  

He mustered up something that might’ve been a smile in another life, but now it just looked strained, like his face wasn’t quite up to the task. “I’m fine,” he said—right on cue. “I’m just trying to catch up. There’s a lot to do... I’ll finish soon.”  

You gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “Geo ratted you out,” you informed him, watching as his eye twitched just slightly. “Says you’ve been glued to this desk all morning. So unless you’ve suddenly figured out how to cram ten hours of work into two, I’m calling total BS.”  

Crowe opened his mouth, either to deny or argue—probably both—but you were already moving, plopping yourself onto the edge of his desk without waiting for an invitation. Papers crinkled beneath you, but honestly? He had too many to begin with.   

“Alright,” you announced, clapping your hands together. “New plan. I’m your assistant now. Consider me officially hired.”  

His brows furrowed, somewhere between confused and mildly alarmed. “What?”  

“You heard me.” You grinned, reaching for the nearest folder. “If you won’t take a break, I’m gonna help you power through this so you can. Think of me as your unpaid intern—but better-looking and way more fun to be around.”

Crowe thrust out a hand like a human stop sign, his usual smooth-talking charm dimming under the weight of sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion. “I don’t need an assistant,” he grumbled, voice teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “And definitely not one who thinks ‘alphabetical order’ is a conspiracy theory.”  

You scoffed, waving him off like an irritating fly. “Oh, come on. Filing is just alphabet soup but with extra steps. Besides, it’s either this, or I start making the most obnoxious noises known to mankind until you surrender and flee this room.”  

Crowe stared at you. Hard. You could practically see the internal debate waging behind his tired eyes. He wanted to fight back, to assert some semblance of authority in his own workspace, but let’s be real—he didn’t have the energy for that. 

After what felt like an eternity of silent suffering, he let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that screamed, ‘I have officially given up on life.’ He dragged a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat. “But don’t touch anything important unless I told you.”  

“Relax,” you chirped, already rifling through a stack of papers with the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be trusted with paperwork. “I’ve got this. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

The worst did happen.  

Many times in fact.

You just didn’t realize it until it was too late.

By the time two weeks had passed, it was like you had unknowingly signed a blood pact with Crowe—minus the actual blood, but definitely with the same level of inescapable obligation. Somehow, without fully realizing how it happened, you had been roped into the prestigious yet completely unpaid role of Crowe’s unofficial official assistant.

Like clockwork, as soon as your classes wrapped up for the day, there you were—reporting for duty like some poor soul enlisted in a student council boot camp, minus the combat training but with twice the paperwork.  

And the workload? 

Oh, it was something else. 

You couldn't make this up if you tried. The sheer volume of tasks dumped on Crowe was enough to make you question whether the entire campus had collectively mistaken him for their personal secretary.

Student club events? His problem. Fraternity and sorority requests? Yup, tossed onto his ever-growing pile. Small-time guest speakers, whose only real compensation was probably free coffee and a handshake? Also somehow his responsibility.  

At one point, you found yourself holding a stack of papers detailing plans for a campus-wide "stress-relief yoga night," and you very nearly asked if Crowe had been secretly elected mayor of the university while you weren’t looking.  

And, because you were clearly a genius with absolutely no impulse control, you had, at some point, volunteered to help him with all of it.

Cleaning up his disaster of a desk? You were on it. Sprinting across campus to drop off forms like some kind of academic carrier pigeon? Already flapping your metaphorical wings. Sitting through excruciating planning meetings for student events? 

Sure, why not? It’s not like watching Crowe argue with five sorority reps over whether they could hold a ‘glow-in-the-dark karaoke night’ in the ‘library’ was a fever dream you ever expected to have—but here you were, living it.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that Crowe wasn’t just overburdened—he was the burden. A walking, talking monument to suffering.  

“Hey, uh, question,” you said one afternoon, dumping yet another stack of papers onto his already paper-laden desk. You weren’t even sure if there was a desk under there anymore, or if Crowe just sat upon a sacred altar of unfinished paperwork. “How many of these events actually needto go through the student council? Like, for real?”  

“All of them,” Crowe said flatly, not even sparing you a glance as he scribbled furiously on some poor soul’s event approval form.  

“No, no, I mean…” You leaned in, lowering your voice as if you were about to drop some grand revelation. “How many actually need to go through you?”  

Crowe finally paused, pen hovering mid-signature as he slowly—painfully slowly—lifted his gaze to meet yours. His expression was the physical embodiment of ‘I will throw you out of this room myself.’  

“All of them,” he repeated, but this time, slower. Like that somehow made it less absurd.  

Sometime later, while you were valiantly battling yet another stack of event proposals—seriously, why were there so many bake sales?—you dramatically collapsed into the chair across from him.  

“So, uh,” you drawled, tossing a paper into the abyss that was Crowe’s inbox, “is this a student council or a circus? Be honest.”  

Crowe didn’t even look up. Didn’t even hesitate.  

“Yes.”

What.

Anyway, somehow, even with all the chaos, you managed to find a rhythm in it all. Cleaning Crowe’s desk became second nature—so much so that you started questioning if you had become some kind of sentient maid. You even unearthed what could only be described as a historical artifact: a half-eaten sandwich wedged between two stacks of papers. Given its fossilized state, you figured it was either from last semester or from the founding days of the school itself.  

Running errands across campus turned into an unintentional workout program. Who needed a gym membership when you were speed-walking between buildings, dodging rogue club recruiters, and carrying stacks of paperwork heavier than your will to live?  

And attending meetings? That became your personal form of entertainment. You even started timing how long it would take before someone made an absolutely insane request—your record was three minutes. The last champion was some guy from the Gardening Club who tried to get funding for a “therapeutic koi pond.” In the middle of the cafeteria.  

Today, though, you and Crowe were actually making progress, discussing the upcoming club events without any major disturbances. A miracle, honestly.  

Then the door slammed open.  

What waltzed was him—the student council president, looking like he had just stepped off a runway and onto your last nerve. He was an upperclassman with the kind of aura that screamed, ‘I was born better than you, and I will remind you every chance I get.’ 

“Ichabod,” he drawled as if merely saying Crowe’s name was a task beneath him. Then, with all the grace of a medieval tax collector, he dumped another towering stack of paperwork onto Crowe’s desk, causing several precariously balanced forms to slide to the floor. “More approvals. Get them done.”  

Crowe had been hunched over, pen in hand, scribbling out what seemed like his last remaining shred of hope. But as soon as the president stormed in, dropping the latest avalanche of paperwork onto the desk, he froze. His hand hovered in the air for a moment—was he about to launch his pen at the door, or was he just letting the despair wash over him? 

You couldn’t tell, but you knew Crowe had just about hit his limit. He closed his eyes briefly. Was he praying? Meditating? Or was he visualizing the sweet, sweet release of just escaping this nightmare by launching himself through the window?

It was hard to say.

You, on the other hand, were getting mildly entertained by the absurdity of the situation. "Wow," you said, blinking at the fresh chaos that had just descended upon the desk. "I didn’t know you were accepting job applications for ‘Official Paperwork Mule.’"

The president—who had somehow magically entered the room without making a sound, like some kind of overpriced ninja—turned his icy gaze on you. He looked you up and down with all the disdain of someone who had just stepped in a puddle of something they’d prefer not to identify, his eyes narrowing like you’d just insulted his firstborn. "Oh, you're still here?" His voice dripped with condescension. "How quaint."

You couldn’t help but grin. You had been waiting for this. "Yep. Unlike the funding you approved for that haunted house event last week." You paused for effect, casually flipping through the pile of forms as if you weren’t even phased. "I suggest you get to it quick, though, before I let the officials know about your… interesting decisions."

Crowe made a noise. It was an odd noise—something between a strangled laugh and a desperate cough. He tried to cover it up, but the damage was done.

The president, however, either completely oblivious or choosing not to dignify your retort with a response, turned back to Crowe with the practiced air of someone who thought his very presence should be worshipped. "This needs to be finished today."

“Of course it does,” Crowe muttered under his breath, already sinking into the depths of his inevitable paperwork doom. You could practically hear the weight of his soul dragging itself down further into the abyss.

The president gave a tight, self-satisfied smile, like he’d just handed down some sort of royal decree, and turned on his heel to exit the room. His steps were as calculated and ridiculous as his whole existence. You couldn’t help but notice his outfit—tailored suit, perfectly polished shoes, and the kind of cologne that probably cost more than your tuition. 

It was almost as if he thought his appearance alone could somehow make him better than everyone else in the room. It was adorable.

He was halfway out the door when you casually called after him, "Hey, by the way—are you wearing that suit to go rescue puppies or attend a high-society funeral?"

The president paused, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression that could’ve been carved into marble. He said nothing, but his eyes briefly flashed with the kind of ‘I’ll ruin you’ look that only the truly entitled could master. 

You, however, weren’t even remotely phased.

"Yeah, I thought so," you added, pushing another pile of forms onto Crowe’s desk. "You’ve got the whole ‘I’m better than everyone’ look down, but next time, maybe try not looking like you belong in a museum." 

Crowe groaned as the door slammed shut, leaving the two of you alone with the mountain of paperwork once more. You sighed, nudging a piece of paper that had somehow escaped the clutches of the abyss. "So… koi pond in the cafeteria is looking less ridiculous by the minute, huh?" 

Crowe didn’t answer.

He was too busy looking like he might spontaneously combust from exhaustion, or maybe just give up on life entirely. You considered offering him a donut or a bucket of coffee, but really, at this point, nothing was going to save him.

“Crowe? You good?” you asked, leaning in closer. His entire posture screamed ‘I’m about to faceplant into this paperwork and never wake up’. You wondered if he was trying to figure out how to escape into the sweet oblivion of the nearest nap corner or if he was plotting his own demise. At this point, it could go either way.

“I’m... fine,” he muttered, but the way his hand slid across the desk in slow motion, like he was having a mental breakdown in real-time, told you everything you needed to know.  

“You sure? You look like you’re one coffee away from crying on a stack of forms."

Crowe groaned, a sound so filled with despair it could’ve been the opening line to a sad indie movie. “I just want to finish one thing today, ‘just one thing,’ without someone handing me more stupid paperwork. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Probably,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “But, hey, that’s what you signed up for, right? Like, what was your grand plan here? To turn the student council into your own personal administrative hell?”

Crowe shot you a glance that was somewhere between ‘I could kill you’ and ‘Please, for the love of all that’s holy, be quiet.’ You could practically see the little clock in his head ticking down, counting how much longer he could withstand his own existence before he collapsed in the pile of paperwork like some sort of sad, overworked martyr.  

"At least give me a minute to process the chaos." His voice had that exhausted, cracked tone that made you wonder if he’d been functioning on three hours of sleep for the past week.  

You took pity on him. "Alright, alright," you said, grabbing the latest stack of event forms and flipping through them. "Let’s at least start brainstorming for these. I’m guessing half of these are doomed from the start.”

Crowe’s response was a wordless nod, his head still resting on his hand as if that would somehow reboot his brain. It looked like he might pass out at any moment, but somehow, he managed to pull himself back together. Barely.  

"Alright, what's the first one?" you asked, leaning over to get a better look at the next form.  

Crowe’s finger shakily pointed to it. "‘Classical music night... on the roof... with fog machines.’"

You blinked. "I… I don’t even know what to say to that. What, are we trying to summon ghosts now?"

Crowe groaned again. "It’s a real proposal. They want it approved for next week."

"Okay," you said, rubbing your temples. "I think we’re officially past the point of saving this year’s student council. This is just a slow-motion train wreck."

Crowe was too exhausted to even form a proper sentence, his mind clearly whirling through a mental tally of disasters. You could practically see the gears grinding in his head—he was done. It wasn’t clear whether he was about to drop dead or have a full-on emotional meltdown, but either way, the path to recovery was nothing but more paperwork, endless meetings, and a growing sense of doom.

"Here," you said, tossing him a coffee cup with a little too much flair. "You need this more than I do."

Crowe didn’t say a word, just took the cup and stared blankly at his desk. You half expected him to fall asleep standing up, but then he took a long, defeated sip like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. For a moment, you swore you saw him look almost… human again. Though still on the edge of total collapse.  

“Only… five more hours of this shit,” he muttered, voice raw and tired. His words hung in the air like a bad omen, but the way he said it was almost like he was trying to will it into something less awful.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. 

You leaned against the desk—looking over a few documents that Crowe just signed, watching him as he rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage the chaos out of his brain. Then, he took a deep breath and dragged himself to his feet, his movements slow and heavy as if each step took effort.

You stood there, waiting for him to make the move, knowing he was about to drag you both back into the hell that was his office. 

You followed him out to the coffee area just outside Crowe’s office, the place practically empty except for the hum of a few vending machines in the corner. Most people were in class, living their lives while you and Crowe were stuck in this chaotic little bubble of misery together. But honestly, you didn’t mind. Being stuck with Crowe wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

In fact, you might even go so far as to say you kind of liked it—chaos and all. It was weird, but after all the hours spent with him, this was just your rhythm. He was like a broken record, and you were along for the ride. 

Crowe leaned against the the desk beside you, staring out at the empty room, looking just about as done as any human could be without literally face-planting. “Let’s just…” He paused, running a hand through his unbraided hair as if he were trying to shake the tiredness out of his bones. “Finish this,” he muttered, but there was no real conviction behind the words. 

It was more like he was just going through the motions, a man trying to survive one last round of office hell before he collapsed into a pile of paperwork rubble.

You shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, not caring much about the empty room around you. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just get through this so you can collapse into your desk in peace."

Crowe didn’t laugh, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d get today, and that was enough for you. He took another sip of coffee, staring at the distant empty chairs like they were mocking him. Honestly, the whole situation was ridiculous, but if you had to be stuck in this hellish paperwork vortex, you couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck with.

Despite the avalanche of paperwork, the never-ending meetings, and the constant chaos that seemed to follow Crowe everywhere, there were small, quiet moments when his gratitude actually managed to slip through the cracks.

It wasn’t loud or obvious—no heartfelt speeches or dramatic declarations of appreciation. No, it was more like a fleeting shadow, there one moment and gone the next, but it still spoke volumes.  

It was one of those afternoons when you were buried under yet another mountain of event proposals, flipping through them with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on a caffeine crash. Your eyes had glazed over, the words on the pages blending together into an unintelligible mess of overly ambitious plans and unreasonable requests.

You were pretty sure you could start a new career as a professional paperweight at this point, considering how often you were parked next to Crowe’s desk. But hey, someonehad to keep the chaos in check, right?  

Instead of fighting for your own desk—because, honestly, that would’ve been a lost cause given the sheer size of Crowe’s desk, which could’ve fit a small army and their gear—you'd just claimed a corner of it. You’d made it your own little nook, the edge of his mountain of papers your personal workspace. 

Sure, it was a little unconventional, but considering Crowe's desk practically looked like the inside of an office supply store exploded on it, it made sense. Plus, it was way more fun to pretend you were part of the madness instead of standing on the sidelines.  

So there you were, half-buried in a fresh pile of event forms that had been hastily shoved into your hands the second you walked into the room, flipping through them with the kind of mindless speed that comes from hours of sheer boredom. 

You didn’t even look up, thinking it was just another stray form that had somehow wandered into your orbit. But then you heard it—a soft clink. And when you glanced over, there it was: a steaming cup of tea, perfectly brewed and a small snack, sitting on the edge of his desk as though it had always been meant to be there. 

Crowe didn’t say anything. He didn’t even speak to you.

He just silently placed it down, then you felt his hand on top of your head, planting what felt like kiss on top. Afterwards, he gave you a brief, exhausted glance, and went back to his own paperwork like nothing had happened. As if that tiny, thoughtful gesture wasn’t quietly shifting the entire atmosphere of the room. It was his way of saying, ‘I see you’—without actually saying a word. 

Then there were the rare occasions when you handed him something that, frankly, could have been labeled as a ‘miracle’—like a perfectly organized event schedule, where the scattered mess of dates and details had somehow been magically turned into something resembling order. His eyes would flicker to it for just a second before he’d mutter a quiet, almost begrudging “thanks.” 

The words were always there, but they came out like he was fighting them every step of the way as if the concept of gratitude wasn’t quite his thing. Still, the small nod that followed—something barely noticeable, but unmistakably there—told you everything you needed to know.  

Those little moments were a rarity, but when they happened, they felt like an entire month’s worth of appreciation crammed into a second. No fanfare, no grand speeches—just Crowe, the overworked, underappreciated student council lifeline, showing his gratitude in the most subtle ways possible.

It was like he didn’t know how to say it out loud, but his actions spoke louder than any words could. 

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to keep you going.  

That, and the sheer comedy gold of watching Crowe try—and fail—every time a club proposed something so ridiculous it could’ve been pulled straight from a fever dream. Like the latest masterpiece—a ‘puppies and pizza’ day in the science building. The look on his face when he read that? Priceless. 

It was like watching someone go from a hopeful puppy to a full-on terrified deer caught in headlights. Half of him expected to ask if it was some kind of prank. It wasn’t.

But today?

Today’s mark a day of early freedom

One of those rare, blessed afternoons where Crowe managed to finish his work before sunset. That alone was enough to make you believe in higher powers—like the universe had decided to give Crowe a break for once. And honestly, you were enjoying it too. 

Crowe seemed... different. Less like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and more like he was just a dude who'd had a good day for once. His hair was actually neat—an anomaly that deserved to be framed and hung in a museum—and his outfit looked like it had been picked out by someone who didn’t live off caffeine and stress. His usual tense, I’m-one-email-away-from-a-breakdown stance was gone, replaced by a more relaxed posture. 

And the best part? That trademark smirk of his wasn’t the usual ‘I’m-exhausted-but-I’ll-pretend-I’m-cool’ look. It was... real. Like he actually meant it. You had to blink a couple of times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"You know," he started, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking a little lighter than usual. He glanced over at you, his face not quite as guarded as usual, like he was letting his walls down just a little. "You've been a such lifesaver."

You raised an eyebrow, figuring he was about to make some sarcastic remark. But instead, he hesitated for a second, exhaled, and with a tiny shake of his head and a soft half-smile, he added, "I don't think I would've survived without you."

Okay, that? That was huge.

For Crowe, the guy who acted like he had the entire universe under control at all times, admitting that he needed help was like watching a robot suddenly develop emotions. You could tell he meant it, too, judging by the way he looked at you. There was no sarcasm, no defensive wall—just a genuinely appreciative look. And yeah, maybe it made your heart do a weird little skip. 

You coughed to cover up your smile, not wanting to get too sappy about it, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you. 

"I need to wrap up a few things before I can lock up the student council room," he said, voice steady and calm. "After that... we came to meet at my place?”

You couldn’t help it. Your lips twitched into a grin, arms crossed, watching him with an amused glint in your eye. "Wow, Crowe, are you suggesting a private date?"

The reaction was instant.  

His eyes widened, and for the first time, you swore you saw the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks—a slightly deeper shade against his usual warm brown complexion. Just for a second before his usual playful demeanor slid back into place. He let out a half-laugh, half-grumble. "It’s not a date," he muttered, though you could tell he was trying not to smile. "Just... you know. A thing."

"Uh-huh. Sure, a thing," you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, if ‘things’ include pizza and not having to talk about student council for once, I’ll consider it.” 

He rolled his eyes, but that little real smirk was back again. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you love it," you shot back with a grin.

Crowe let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head at himself. “You’re such a tease.” 

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

His deadpan stare told you he definitely knew exactly what you were doing. You could practically hear the thoughts running through his mind: I know you’re trying to distract me with that nonsense, but it’s not going to work.

But instead of entertaining your antics, he let out a long exhale, like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders, and straightened up. His hands moved quickly to gather the last of his papers, that familiar rhythm of someone who’d been in a constant state of ‘paperwork battle’ for way too long.  

"I’ll be done in a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock, looking like he was calculating the exact time when he could finally escape the clutches of his responsibilities. “Shouldn’t take long. Just… come to my place, please.”  

The way he said it was almost a plea, like he was clinging to the last shred of hope that you would save him from his own self-imposed chaos. There was something in the way his voice dropped, that quiet vulnerability that even Crowe couldn’t hide when he was completely overwhelmed. 

He didn’t ask for help. Ever. 

But right now, it seemed like he couldn’t bear to be alone with all that paperwork for even another minute. 

Without even thinking, you stepped forward, about to throw out some joke or tease him, but before you could, his hand shot out, fingers lightly brushing against yours, like he was desperately reaching for something, anything to ground him.  

You froze, blinking at the unexpected contact. Crowe’s hand lingered there for a moment, not quite holding yours, but not pulling away either. His gaze met yours for just a second—there was something there, a flicker of something deeper than just the usual exhausted annoyance.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his voice a little quieter, a little more raw than you were used to hearing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to give him the classic ‘it’s fine, we’re cool’ smile. But you could see it—he was yearning for just a little bit of peace, a little bit of support. 

Maybe more than he’d ever admit.

So, you squeezed his hand, just a little, before giving him a half-smirk. "Don't worry, Crowe. You’ll survive. Just don't expect me to help every time you feel like a nervous wreck." You smiled, slowly walking away. “I’ll gonna go change. See you later.” 

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything else, only shaking his head as he returned to his work. You turned on your heel, heading out of the student center with an extra pep in your step. Whether he meant it as a date or not, he still invited you over.  

And that was definitely something to work with.  

With that, you made a break for it, finally escaping the chaos of the student council room. You decided to take the scenic route back to your apartment—aka a detour to your place to freshen up a little. Nothing too extravagant, just a little something to feel less like a walking disaster.  

You slipped into your long-flare yoga pants, because, let's be honest, they were basically good thin material and nobody could judge you for that. You paired them with a long tank top and layered it with a cropped graphic tee that you’d definitely cut at the shoulder yourself for that ‘I woke up like this’ off-the-shoulder look. 

Sure, it looked like you couldn’t be bothered to try, but you weren’t heading to a red carpet event—just to Crowe’s place to eat dinner. Who needed to look cute when you were about to inhale your body weight in food, right?  

You kept your hairstyle in check, though—that was the one thing you weren't willing to sacrifice. A little effort to at least pretend you had it together. And the earrings? Oh, the earrings were a must. They hung from your ears like delicate little reminders that you were, in fact, capable of caring about something.

Maybe not your best outfit, but its’s something.  

Before heading back out, you made a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a small blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery. The one where the guy behind the counter always slid an extra smile your way whenever you came in, like he was secretly rooting for you to get that slice of dessert joy. 

You grabbed it like a pro, but this wasn’t just any cheesecake. Oh, no. This was the kind of cheesecake that required ID verification because they had to make sure you were worthy of its glory.  

It was rich, creamy, and topped with a glossy layer of blueberry wine reduction that probably had magical properties. Or at least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself. You figured the extra indulgence might help Crowe decompress a little, so, like a good friend, you were willing to go the extra mile.  

“Maybe it’ll help Crowe unwind,” you mumbled to yourself, adjusting the strap of your bag before heading out. “Not that he’d admit to it. He probably thinks ‘relaxing’ is a dirty word.”  

You snorted at the thought. Crowe would probably rather eat a salad than admit he was anything less than an overworked machine. But hey, everyone deserves a little luxury now and then, right? Even if that luxury was blueberry cheesecake and a very reluctant attempt at unwinding.

The walk to Crowe’s place was mercifully short, tucked just on the edge of campus. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering chill of the evening, and the faint glow of his windows stood out against the dimming sky.

It was a modest place—large, practical, the kind of space that was meant for luxury rather than convenience. But the moment you spotted the faint flicker of movement inside, a shuffle of shadow passing by the window, you knew he was home.  

You hesitated for just a second before knocking.  

Part of you hoped—no, expected—that when he answered the door, he’d look at least a little more relaxed than he had earlier. Maybe the stiffness in his shoulders would be gone. Maybe he’d be in something softer, a hoodie instead of that ever-present button-up. Maybe—dare you dream—he’d actually be smiling.  

But when the door swung open, it was immediately clear that reality had other plans.  

Crowe stood in the doorway, his hair once again was an absolute wreck—not the effortless kind of messy that turned heads, but the kind that screamed, ‘I’ve run my hands through it too many times out of frustration.’ A furrow was etched deep between his brows, and his usual sharp posture was stiff like he was physically bracing against the weight of his responsibilities.

And—oh, fantastic—a folder was tucked under his arm, looking as though it had permanently fused to him at this point.  

You exhaled through your nose. Of course.

Yet, despite the exhaustion written all over him, something in his expression softened when he registered it was you at the door. The tightness in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear, but there was the faintest tug of a smile at the corners of his lips—tired but real.  

“What’s with the face?” you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he stepped aside, silently motioning you in.  

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically, the words so robotic and rehearsed that you almost laughed.  

“Right. And I’m the student council president,” you deadpanned, stepping inside and crossing your arms. “You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Again.”  

“Funny thing about the student council president,” Crowe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you. “It turns out he can, and will, dump work on me at all hours. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have a life outside any paperwork.”  

Crowe allowed you inside, leading you up the sleek, polished staircase to his bedroom. As he pushed open the door, you were immediately struck by how effortlessly luxurious it felt—like stepping into a five-star suite rather than your living space.  

The room was spacious, barely lit by the warm glow of a single overhead light and a tall, modern floor lamp near his desk. The walls were painted a deep, muted blue, the color rich yet understated. But it was the bed that truly caught your attention—elaborate and inviting, draped in dark blue satin sheets that gleamed subtly under the soft lighting.

The bedding was pristine and neatly arranged with thick pillows and a comforter that looked like it belonged in a high-end catalog rather than a broke college student apartment.  

And yet, despite the undeniable elegance of the space, the desk against the far wall told a completely different story.  

Stacked with an obscene number of papers, open binders, and what you were pretty sure was the same coffee cup from this morning, his desk looked like a war zone of responsibilities. A sleek laptop sat open, its screen casting a faint glow over the scattered documents, and a small, gold-rimmed clock ticked quietly beside a stack of folders. 

The faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air, mixing with the rich undertones of expensive cologne and the barely-there scent of cedarwood. The place had the distinct feel of someone who had been trapped inside for far too long—like a space meant for relaxation had been forcibly converted into an office.  

And honestly? That pissed you off a little.

You turned back to him with an unimpressed look, arms crossed as he carelessly tossed his folder onto the desk. “You invited me to hang out, and now you’re telling me I’m supposed to just sit here while you work?”  

“I’ll multitask,” he said with a faint smirk, already lowering himself into the sleek, leather chair at his desk like that settled the matter.  

You let out an exaggerated sigh, setting your bag down on the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. Of course, even his couch was high-end—dark velvet with a few neatly arranged cushions, barely touched, like it was there for decoration rather than actual use.  

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “What a great person you are. Let me guess, next you’re going to ask me to fetch you coffee?”  

Crowe didn’t look up, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you’re offering.”  

You rolled your eyes before reaching into your bag and pulling out the carefully packed cheesecake you had brought. With deliberate flair, you set it on the small wooden table near the couch, ensuring the movement was just noticeable enough to break Crowe’s focus.  

And to your satisfaction, it worked.  

From his place at the desk, Crowe’s eyes flicked up, momentarily distracted from the mountain of papers in front of him. His gaze landed on the dessert, his brow raising slightly. “Is that… blueberry cheesecake?” 

You shot him a smug grin. “It is. And not just any cheesecake—blueberry wine-glazed cheesecake. Only the best.” 

Crowe’s lips twitched, almost forming a real smile, but as his gaze flicked back to the cheesecake, hesitation crept into his expression. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Wait… you said wine-glazed?”  

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yeah? It’s just a glaze, Crowe. It’s not like I’m trying to get you drunk off dessert.”  

He exhaled, glancing between you and the cheesecake as if debating whether he should risk it. “Still…” His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair. “…I don’t know if I should.”  

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before throwing him an exasperated look. “Crowe. It’s cheesecake. Not a bottle of aged whiskey.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the reluctant amusement in them told you he wasn’t completely opposed. He just wanted to be difficult.  

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” you added, crossing your arms. “One bite won’t turn you into a lawless delinquent, I promise. It’s just something to help you relax for once.”  

Crowe exhaled slowly, glancing at the dessert once more before shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry but no, I need to work—because if I suddenly start making reckless decisions, it’s your fault.”  

“Oh, please.” With a scoff, you pushed yourself up from the plush velvet couch, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric before stretching lazily. “I’ll be right back.” Crowe barely acknowledged your movement, too focused on whatever tedious task he was drowning in.  

Perfect.  

You slipped out of his bedroom, padding down the sleek hallway and down the grand staircase that led to the main floor. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of an ornate grandfather clock positioned near the entrance. Of course, he had something so unnecessarily extravagant in his house. You shook your head, making your way toward the kitchen.  

And, unsurprisingly, even his kitchen looked like it belonged in some high-end interior design magazine—black marble countertops, dark mahogany cabinets, and sleek, modern appliances that gleamed under the warm glow of overhead lighting. The air carried the faintest scent of coffee, no doubt from whatever caffeine-fueled disaster had taken place earlier that morning.  

You pulled open a drawer, rummaging through its neatly arranged contents until you found the gold forks—because, of course, even his utensils were unnecessarily fancy, polished to a pristine shine. You hesitated for a second, eyeing the wine bottle in your other hand. You could technically be a menace and grab another fork just for him, despite his earlier protests, just to see if he’d cave.  

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you picked up another fork and then made your way back upstairs.  

By the time you reentered Crowe’s bedroom, he was exactly as you left him—hunched over his desk, a hand buried in his long brown tousled hair, muttering something under his breath as he scribbled furiously onto a page. His laptop cast a faint glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, and the way his brows furrowed with quiet frustration.  

You shook your head in fond exasperation, setting the forks onto the small wooden table—top of a paper towel near the couch with deliberate flair. The sound of metal forks against wood was just loud enough to pull his attention away from whatever crisis was currently occupying his mind.  

His gaze flickered to you, then to the newly placed items, and finally, to the bottle of wine you were already uncorking with far too much enthusiasm.  “You don’t take ‘no cake for me’ seriously, do you?” he asked dryly, watching as you handed him a fork, which he took. You raised an eyebrow, swirling the liquid slowly before taking a deliberate sip. “Oh, I heard you,” you mused. “I just chose to ignore it.”  

Crowe exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, but there was no real irritation in his expression—if anything, the corners of his lips twitched upward, like he was fighting off a smile.  

You handed him a fork, gesturing toward the cheesecake. “Now, be a good boy and eat before I start burning your paperwork.”  

That earned you a full, amused huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t.”  

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, already reaching for the nearest document with mischief glinting in your eyes.  

And just like that, for the first time that evening, Crowe finally relented. With a quiet sigh of defeat, he grabbed his fork, cutting into the cheesecake with a small shake of his head.  

“Happy now?” he muttered, bringing a bite to his lips.  

You grinned, raising your fork in victory. “Ecstatic.”  

Later on, You ended up sitting in Crowe’s bed, which, honestly, wasn’t part of the original plan. You’d offered—very generously, might you add—to just sit on the floor, but Crowe wasn’t having it. And of course, that turned into a whole thing. A full-blown back-and-forth argument that went nowhere because, shocker, Crowe won.

So now here you were, cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone while eating cheesecake like it was just another day.

Meanwhile, Crowe was buried in paperwork, signing off on whatever ridiculous event proposals students had cooked up this time.

Between the scribbling of his pen and the occasional tap of your phone screen, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of conversation—nothing deep, just the usual random nonsense that somehow never failed to keep things interesting. 

You could say literally the most out-of-pocket thing, and Crowe would have an opinion on it. 

“You think pigeons ever feel bad about stealing people’s food?” 

“No. They’re menaces.” 

“What about geese?” 

“Demons in feathered form.” 

It went on like that for a while, but then, out of nowhere, Crowe, still focused on his paperwork, casually muttered, “If you end up drunk, you can stay here.” 

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh?” 

“I have hangover pills for situations like these,” he added as if that was just normal information to throw out there. 

You squinted at him, completely lost as last time you checked—he didn’t drink. “Crowe, sir, what the hell do you have those for?” 

He didn’t even hesitate. “They’re normally for my mother.” 

Oh. 

…Well damn. That changed the vibe.  

You suddenly found a very interesting spot on the wall to look at, your brain screaming at you to not ask any follow-up questions. Just let it slide, move on, talk about geese again— 

“…How come?” Damn it.

Crowe paused mid-signature, his pen hovering over the paper for a second too long. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made the air feel heavier. You shifted a little on his bed, suddenly regretting asking. But at the same time, you had to know. 

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, setting his pen down and leaning back slightly. “She’s a businesswoman,” he said simply like that explained everything.  

It kind of did.  

You nodded slowly. “Ah. So… business meetings, long nights, expensive wine, and regrettable choices?”  

“Basically,” he said, rubbing his temple. “She doesn’t get wasted often, but when she does, it’s always a mess. It’s better to just have something on hand so she doesn’t call me at two in the morning complaining about a headache and demanding I fix it.” 

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin in your hand. “So what I’m hearing is… you’re the designated babysitter for your mom when she goes too hard on the fancy liquor.” 

Crowe gave you a flat look. “I wouldn’t call it that.”  

“But I would.” You grinned, taking another bite of your cheesecake. “Imagine that. Big, serious Crowe, the man who runs student council like a military operation, reduced to fetching electrolyte drinks and aspirin for his drunk mom.”  

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like he was reevaluating all his life choices. “You are so lucky I tolerate you.”  

“Tolerate? Please. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”  

Crowe rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips almost twitched up. Almost. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

You smirked, then gestured toward his desk. “Speaking of you tolerating me, when are you actually gonna stop working? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been signing papers for the last hour and I’m starting to think you might be stuck in an endless loop.”  

“I’ll be done when I’m done,” he muttered, flipping to the next page.  

You squinted at him. “Liar. You never finish. The work just keeps coming.”  

Crowe didn’t deny it. He just let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple again. You could tell he was exhausted but too damn stubborn to stop.  

So, naturally, you had to push a little.  

“Y’know,” you started, setting your plate aside and stretching out on his bed dramatically, “I’m not a heavy drinker. I won’t get drunk.”

Crowe quickly said, “That’s what you said last time.”

“Blame Britt, she needed someone to take shots with at that club.” You sighed, “But If I look drunk, there’s a chance I might be pretending.” You mentioned. “Why,” Crowe asked. “…I’ll be able to get the tender loving care of a certain man.”

Crowe somewhat blushed, then added. “And If I’m the one who gets drunk, will you look after me? Or will you let me fend for myself?”

“Ehhh, that depends. What kind of drunk are you?” You gave Crowe a pointed look, lazily kicking your legs back and forth. “’Cause remember when Britt got wasted after we passed our exams and threw up in the car?” You grimaced at the memory. “Still sorry about that, by the way.”

Crowe, who had been signing something, paused and flicked his eyes up at you. “There are different types of drunk?”

You snorted. “Uh, yeah. There are levels to this, Crowe.” You started counting on your fingers. “Tipsy, somewhat affectionate—y’know, the giggly, slightly dumb but still functioning stage. Then there’s a buzz, which is what I usually am. A nice little warm feeling, maybe a little too honest, but still got control.”

Crowe raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Oh, it just gets worse from there.” You grinned. “There’s sloshed, where your words start slurring, and you start thinking you can dance when, in reality, you cannot.” You pointed at him. “Britt was sloshed. Then there’s blacked out, which—self-explanatory. Bad decisions are made. Regret is guaranteed.”

Crowe hummed, going back to his papers. “Lovely.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” you continued, thoroughly enjoying this. “Then you got aggressive drunks—you know, the ones who suddenly wanna fight everyone, including their own reflection. Confident drunks, which are honestly my favorite ‘cause they act like they own the place and think they’re hot shit. Sad drunks—kinda self-explanatory. They cry about their ex, their childhood, or how the bartender didn’t smile at them enough.”

Crowe sighed like he already regretted indulging this conversation. “And?”

“The two everyone really looks out for are lightweights and heavyweights.” You leaned forward a little, smirking. “I used to be somewhere in the middle, but, uh… college happened. And Britt happened. So now I’m lowkey more of a heavyweight.”

Crowe set his pen down and gave you that look. The one that was half disappointed professor, half exasperated parent. “Really.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I build tolerance fast.”

Crowe pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not something to be proud of.”

You waved him off. “Anyway, what about you? Heavyweight or lightweight?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

Crowe let out a slow breath, glancing at you like he was debating whether to humor you or just ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “I have work to do.”

You gasped dramatically. “Avoiding the question? That means you’re a lightweight, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, grinning. “Crowe, do you get tipsy off one drink? Is that why you don’t go out? Are you—”

He gave you a look. A very pointed, very shut up before I actually throw you out look.

You just cackled. “Yeah, alright. Go back to work, lightweight.”

Soon after, it didn’t take long for Crowe to start feeling something—not that he’d ever admit it. You had finished your slice—even had another one without issue, enjoying every bite while Crowe had been more hesitant, taking small, slow bites as if waiting for some dramatic effect to kick in. And, to your delight, it did.   

He shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the odd sensation creeping up on him. His usually sharp gaze had softened just a bit, and though he kept his expression neutral, you didn’t miss the way his fingers drummed against the desk a little too loosely or the way he exhaled through his nose, slower than usual.  

You smirked. “Feeling okay over there?” 

Crowe shot you a flat look, but there was something off about it—like his focus wasn’t entirely there. “I’m fine.” You tilted your head, scrutinizing him. His dark brown skin had taken on a noticeable flush, heat blooming over his cheekbones and creeping down his neck.

 You knew that look.  

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning forward with barely contained laughter. “You’re lightweight, aren’t you?” Crowe blinked, frowning slightly before scoffing. “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “It’s just warm in here.”  

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your amusement. “Crowe, this is embarrassing. I ate the same cheesecake on my third slice, and I feel fine.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a second before he muttered, “You have an unfair advantage.”  

You grinned. “No wonder you avoid alcohol like the plague. You can’t hold your liquor.” Crowe furrowed his brows at your mocking tone, his face turning into a bit of a pout.

"I can hold my liquor," he grumbled, though the faint tinge in his face betrayed his words. He shifted in his seat slightly, crossing his arms defensively. "I just don't see the appeal of losing my inhibitions and making a fool of myself. Unlike some people."

Your expression turned into a smirk, tone still just as condescending.

"Ah, the classic excuse." Your gaze remained fixed on him with a hint of judgment. "Inhibitions are what make us human, you know. Or perhaps you fear the idea of letting go and having a little fun."

Crowe bristled at your words, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

"I'm not afraid of having fun," he retorted, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness. "I simply prefer to maintain control over my actions. I see no need for losing myself to something as shallow as alcohol."

He let out a scoff. 

"Besides, true fun can be had without the need for impairment."

You let out a short, derisive laugh. "Ah, yes. The need to control everything around you, even your fun. How incredibly dull of you." She leaned closer, her expression a mix of mockery and superiority.

"But tell me, Princess, do you ever truly feel alive, or is your life merely an endless cycle of monotony and self-imposed discipline?"

"Oh, please." Crowe rolled his eyes at your mockery. "Just because I don't partake in mind-numbing substances doesn't mean my life lacks excitement. I simply find joy in more meaningful pursuits." He crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "Unlike some, I don't rely on alcohol or other substances to feel alive. My life is filled with purpose and discipline, and I take pride in that."

You tilted your head, the smirk still dancing on your lips.

"Purpose and discipline…?” she drawled. "I bet you take pride in your ability to follow routines like a well-trained dog, too."

“Excuse me?” Crowe frowned, his voice sharp as he watched you lean closer, sensing the shift in the air.

You didn’t back down. “Jericho,” you said, using his real name with a seriousness that seemed to catch him off guard. “I’ve been your assistant for the past two weeks now, and I’m starting to notice something. You let the student council—and even the president—treat you like a dog, and I see the expression on your face every time. Pure irritation.” 

You shifted and hopped onto his desk, sitting beside him, your legs casually swinging back and forth as you watched him try to suppress his usual annoyance. 

Crowe’s frown deepened, his hand tightening on the paperwork as he visibly tried to keep his composure. You could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, a mix of irritation and something else, something less guarded. 

"I’m aware of the circumstances," he said, voice tight but still trying to assert some control, "and I can handle the student council just fine. I… I’m fine with it. Really." He trailed off, and his words faltered. You could tell he was trying to convince himself more than you. The bravado was fading as his frustration bled into something more vulnerable, something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you can handle things, Jericho. But here’s the thing—you’ve been avoiding something for a while. And it’s not just the paperwork.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes flicking away as he shifted uneasily in his chair. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, that much was obvious.

“Look, I get it. You’re used to doing everything by yourself, keeping things together, and letting everyone walk all over you if it means getting things done. But that doesn’t mean you have to take it. And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay with it,” you said, leaning forward, voice low but firm. You saw the way he struggled to keep his walls up, the cracks widening. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he muttered, barely audible, “but I can handle everything. I really don’t mind being treated like a dog.”

Your smirk faltered just a bit, and a hint of seriousness crept into your tone. “Hm, now I know you’re not the buzzed type…” you murmured, thoughtfully. “You say you don’t mind… but I can sense there’s more to it than just handling things. You’re avoiding my gaze for a reason, after all.”

Crowe didn’t respond right away, his eyes avoiding yours, but the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his discomfort growing, but there was something else, too—a sense of reluctance mixed with a desire for something else, something you both knew he wasn’t willing to admit yet.

You sighed heavily, making sure to add some extra dramatic flair before stepping closer. His desk, though structured, had a certain worn-in look, the wood slightly dulled from constant use, with scattered notes and open folders sprawled across its surface. The lamp at the corner cast long, soft shadows, adding a golden warmth to the otherwise sterile, paper-filled workspace.  

You crouched beside his chair and gestured toward his feet. “Move.” 

Crowe blinked down at you, finally breaking his focus. His brows furrowed. “What—?”  

You didn’t give him a chance to retreat into his shell. Instead, you were now kneeling down in front of him, slipping under the desk with the kind of confidence that said ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ “I’m going to see if you’ll actually let me help,” you said, your voice light but insistent, “because right now? You think you don’t need anything from anyone. But I’m betting you’ll let me assist you. And I’m going to find out just how much you really don’t mind.”  

The air between you shifted, thick with unspoken tension, as Crowe’s jaw tightened. You could almost see the internal battle raging within him—the need to keep control, to not rely on anyone, fighting against the small, desperate part of him that did need help, that did want something different. Something softer, something less exhausting.

“Stop acting like you can do everything by yourself, Jericho," you said gently, yet firmly. “Let me help. Please.”

His eyes flicked down to where you were kneeling in front of him, his throat working as if he were trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t move, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight of your presence. You were here, offering, and this time, you weren’t going to back off.

“I’m not going to bite, I promise.” You smiled, though it was a soft, knowing grin—one that suggested you could see right through the mask he wore.

For a moment, he said nothing, just staring at you like you’d asked him to do the impossible. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, His deep blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—something between exasperation and tiredness.  

Then, finally, his shoulders and arms sagged, just a little, and he let out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Fine. Okay. You win. Help me, then.”

Still kneeling on the floor, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his with a mischievous glint that told him you weren’t backing down anytime soon. You let your gaze linger a little longer than necessary, unwavering and unblinking, before slowly shifting closer, inching just enough to make your presence impossible to ignore.

You could feel the tension building between you two, a palpable electricity in the air, and you were loving every second of it.

“Y’know, as your assistant,” you began, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “all I’ve done is watch you mistreat me, running errands, picking up the slack... I mean, I barely get a ‘thank you’ for anything.” You leaned in just a little more, making sure he could feel the weight of your words.

It was a total lie, of course. He doesn’t actually mistreat you, but you loved getting under his skin, watching the way he reacted to your teasing. The slight furrow of his brow, the tension that flickered in his jaw—he was trying so hard not to take the bait.

Before he could respond, you lightly placed a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, your fingers barely grazing his skin. You could practically feel the sharp intake of breath he took, his body going rigid under your touch.

“You really should show your assistant some gratitude,” you added, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Or... maybe I’ll start taking advantage of the fact that I know exactly how much you don’t want help.”  

His eyes flickered to your hand, then back up to your face, but he didn’t move. His lips pressed into a thin line, clearly debating whether to stay stoic or snap at you. But you could tell that you were getting to him—just a little. 

You were testing him. And so far? You were winning.

You felt it instantly—the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his pants, his entire body going rigid for just a fraction of a second. His smirk, always so confident, faltered—just barely. Instead, he regarded you with something sharper now, something closer to curiosity than irritation. “Oh?” he mused, his voice dipping into a lower register, sending a slow ripple of heat down your spine.  

"I don't treat you badly," he protested, though his voice had an edge to it—strained, like he was trying very hard not to focus on the placement of your hand. “I always make sure to take care of you, even when I’m busy…”  

You chuckled slyly, inching closer so that you were practically hovering over him now. Your fingers traced absentmindedly along his thigh, feather-light but deliberate, as you tilted your head and gave him a teasing, knowing look.  

"Oh, Crowe," you crooned, drawing out his name, savoring the way his jaw clenched in response. “That’s not enough. And you don’t reward me ‘nearly’ enough."  

His breath hitched for the smallest moment, but he recovered quickly, exhaling sharply through his nose. Almost a laugh—almost. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something restrained, but the corners of his lips twitched upward in spite of himself.  

"Rewards, huh?" he murmured, the words slow, measured. He leaned back slightly in his chair, though his gaze never left yours, locked in a silent battle of wills.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the papers he had been holding—forgotten now, unimportant. 

You had his attention. Completely.

"And what exactly do you think you deserve as a reward, huh?" Crowe asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone deceptively casual, but his body language betraying him. You paused, considering his question, letting the moment between you.

What could you ask for?

What did you want from him?

Your fingers, still resting on his thigh, tapped once—thoughtful, teasing. "Well," you mused, lips curling at the edges as you leaned in just a fraction closer. "That depends. Are you finally done with work?"

Crowe exhaled sharply, the sound unmistakable as he shook his head—a familiar gesture that meant he was about to endure something he definitely wasn’t looking forward to. You could see the frustration in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if bracing for the inevitable storm that was coming his way. But before he could even open his mouth to express his exasperation—

His phone rang.

Shit maybe you don’t have his attention like you thought 

You didn’t need to check the screen to know who was calling. The ringtone had become so ingrained in your memory, it was practically a soundtrack to your time spent in the student council room. You could’ve recognized it in the dead of night, half-asleep and groggy.

But you still raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Who is it?”

“The student President…” Crowe muttered, barely a glance at the phone before he visibly grimaced.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned over his thigh and nudged him, giving him that determined look that meant ‘this was happening whether he liked it or not.’ “Pick it up.”

He shot you a look of disbelief. “What now?”

“Yes. Pick it up.”

Crowe hesitated for just a second, clearly torn between his usual aversion to the student council President’s calls and the sense of duty that always seemed to take over.

You could practically feel the battle within him: to pick up and face whatever nonsense was about to unfold or to pretend he hadn’t heard it ringing and hoped it went away. But, of course, he didn’t choose the latter. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Crowe picked up the phone, his fingers brushing over the screen like it was a ticking bomb. 

Above you, Crowe cleared his throat, the sound sharp and professional—the tone he always used when he was in full ‘I-have-to-do-this’ mode. It was crisp and controlled, but there was a thin thread of tension that clung to the edges of his voice, betraying the fact that he was anything but relaxed.

“President,” Crowe greeted, his voice polite but tight, like he was holding back the urge to snap. "Didn’t realize you were gonna call so late."

You could practically feel the irritation dripping off him, but he kept it buried under that forced professional tone. If the student council president had any clue how much Crowe was dreading this call, they sure weren’t showing it. Crowe shifted in his seat, like he was bracing for whatever nonsense the student council president was about to throw his way.

You almost felt bad for him—almost—but let’s be real, he was the one who willingly signed up for this madness.

Still, you had a feeling this call was gonna drag on a lot longer than either of you wanted. Your heart was hammering as you pressed your head flat against Crowe’s lap, barely breathing, just waiting—again for this stupid call to be over.

Every inch of you was aware of how close you were, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it was way too hard when Crowe’s leg was right there, brushing against you. 

On the other end, the student president’s voice—sharp and already full of annoyance—came through loud and clear. "It’s about the upcoming budget meeting. You didn’t submit the finalized report yet."

Crowe let out an exaggerated sigh from above, and you could feel the shift in his chair like it was trying to rattle your very bones. You clenched your jaw, trying not to squirm as you felt the brush of his knee against your shoulder. It definitely felt deliberate, like he was trying to mess with you, making it impossible for you to get comfortable. 

You swallowed down the discomfort and forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. 

"It’s almost done," Crowe said, smooth as butter, his voice way too casual for how much of a lie it was. "I was just in the middle of… reviewing it."

Such a liar. You rolled your eyes internally. 

"Good," the student president replied, clearly distracted by whatever papers they were rifling through. “I need it by tonight. No excuses.”

Your stomach dropped. You held your breath, teetering on the edge of panic as Crowe leaned forward, his lower body inching closer to yours. He reached for something on his desk, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. 

Like, way too small. It was suffocating, but you didn’t move. 

You couldn’t. 

…Right?

“Noted,” Crowe said, his voice only slightly strained. You could hear the tension in it, though, and it made your pulse spike. 

The student president sighed on the other end of the phone call, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in Crowe’s office. “I don’t know how you manage all this paperwork, Ichabod. You’d think with your assistant, things would be more efficient.”

You nearly choked. Excuse me?

Crowe let out an amused huff, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well. Sometimes, they can be a handful.” 

Your eye twitched. Oh, he did not just say that. That smug little—oh, he was so not getting away with this. 

From under the desk, you moved quickly, your fingers darting to his pants. You undid the buttons with practiced ease, then unzipped them, pulling them down to his thighs. And then—oh. 

Oh~

The first thing you saw was the massive tent in his briefs, and you almost choked on your own saliva. How was he even walking like that?

“Hey—what are you—what are you doing—?” Crowe hissed, his voice low and frantic. You glanced up at him, and the look on his face was priceless. His jaw was tight, his dark blue eyes wide, and there was this desperate, pleading expression that screamed, ‘Don’t you dare.’ 

But oh, you dared. 

You brought a hand to him hesitantly, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his briefs. The second you started palming him, Crowe let out this low, shaky sigh that he barely managed to stifle. How the hell was he already this hard? And why did that make your stomach flip in the best way possible?

You could feel him twitch under your touch, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning. This was payback, plain and simple. He wanted to call you a ‘handful’? 

Fine. You’d show him exactly what that meant.

Crowe’s voice was strained as he tried to keep his composure on the phone. “Yes. I’ll—uh—make sure to follow up on that.” 

You smirked, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his briefs. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he shot you a look that was equal parts warning and begging. But you weren’t about to stop now. Not when he was squirming like this, not when you had him right where you wanted him.

“Crowe?” the student president’s voice crackled through the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes,” Crowe stammered, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just dealing with something. Urgently.”

You stifled a laugh, your hand wrapping around him fully now. Crowe’s head tipped back slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but you could see the cracks forming. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white, and you could feel the way his body tensed under your touch.

Crowe was trying to focus. 

Keyword: trying. 

But you were making it impossible.

You had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, your fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, while your other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them in a way that made his leg twitch under the desk. You kissed the tip of him, soft and teasing, and when you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“Yes, President,” Crowe said, his voice strained but impressively steady. “I’ll make sure the budget report is finalized by—” He cut off with a sharp inhale as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, slow and deliberate. His free hand slammed down on the desk, and you could see his fingers trembling.

You smirked, your lips curling around him as you took him deeper, your tongue flicking against the underside of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. “Apologies,” he said, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just a bit of a cough.”

You almost laughed at that, but you were too busy enjoying the way his thighs tensed under your hands. You pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and then—because you were feeling extra mean—you slapped his cock against your cheek a couple of times, the sound muffled but still way too loud in the quiet space.

Crowe’s eyes snapped down to you, wide and panicked, and you gave him your best innocent look before leaning in to lick a slow stripe up his length. His hand shot out, tangling in your hair, but he didn’t push you away. No, he just held on, his grip tightening as you took him into your mouth again, deeper this time.

“Ichabod?” the student president’s voice came through the phone, sharp and impatient. “Are you even listening?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Crowe managed, though his voice was definitely higher-pitched than usual. “Just—uh—just reviewing the numbers.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk involuntarily. He bit down on his lip to stifle a groan, but you could still hear it, low and desperate. You pulled back again, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent.

“You’re doing so good,” you mouthed, your voice silent but your meaning crystal clear. Crowe’s face flushed a deep red, and he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried—and failed—to focus on the phone call. His free hand, the one not clutching the phone, gripped the edge of his desk so hard you thought the wood might splinter.

You didn’t let up.

Instead, you ducked your head again, taking him deeper this time, your throat relaxing around him as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening almost reflexively, and you could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep his hips still. 

He was a losing battle, and you knew it. 

You could feel the subtle shift in his muscles, the way his control was slipping with every flick of your tongue, every slow, deliberate movement of your lips.

“President,” Crowe said, his voice strained, “I think we might need to—ah—to reschedule this call.”

You smirked around him, your tongue flicking against that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he let out a shaky exhale that he barely managed to stifle. You could feel the way his thighs trembled under your hands, the way his entire body was teetering on the edge.

“Reschedule?” the president snapped, his tone incredulous. “Ichabod, this is important. We don’t have time for—”

But Crowe wasn’t listening anymore.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you could feel the way his body shuddered, the way he lost control for just a second. 

It was all you needed. 

You hummed softly, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth, and you could feel the way his resolve was crumbling. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling just enough to make your scalp tingle, and you could hear the way his breathing grew ragged, uneven.

“I—uh—apologize, sir,” Crowe managed to choke out, his voice tight and unsteady. “Something… urgent has come up.”

You didn’t let him finish. 

Instead, you pulled back slightly, just enough to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking him deep again, your throat working around him. Crowe’s head tipped back, a low groan escaping his lips before he could stop it, and you could feel the way his body was trembling, the way he was barely holding it together.

The student president was still talking, his voice sharp and impatient, but Crowe wasn’t hearing a word of it. His focus was entirely on you, on the way your mouth felt around him, on the way you were driving him absolutely insane. His hips bucked again, this time more deliberately, and you could feel the way his control was slipping, the way he was losing himself in the sensation.

“I’ll—ah—call you back,” Crowe said abruptly, his voice rough and strained. He didn’t even wait for a response before he ended the call, tossing the phone onto his desk with a clatter.

The second the call was over, his hand in your hair tightened, and he pulled you off him just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and blazing with need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice low and rough.

You just smirked up at him, your lips still wrapped around him, and then you took him deep again, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, and his hips jerked forward, his control completely gone now.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his voice rough and strained, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. His movements were desperate, almost frantic, like he was losing control and couldn’t stop himself.

You could feel the way his body trembled, the way his thighs tensed under your hands, and you knew he was teetering on the edge. 

You kept your pace steady, your lips wrapped tight around him, your tongue working against him in ways that made his breath hitch and his grip on your hair tighten almost painfully.

"Here I—"

Crowe didn’t get to finish his words.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came with a low, guttural groan. You swallowed half of it, the taste warm and salty, before pulling back just enough to let the rest spill across your lower face. A few streaks of white painted your chin and the corner of your mouth, and you looked up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m so sorry,” Crowe said, his voice hoarse, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hand loosened in your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp as if to soothe the sting. But you just smirked, your tongue darting out to catch the cum at the edge of your face.

“It’s all good,” you said, your voice low and teasing, as you licked the last traces of him away. The way his eyes darkened at the sight, the way his jaw tightened like he was fighting the urge to pull you back in, only made your smirk widen.

When he finally stilled, his body limp and spent, you pulled back slowly, a satisfied smirk on your lips. Crowe slumped back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He looked completely wrecked—his hair disheveled, his shirt rumpled and half-unbuttoned, his face still flushed with the aftermath of his release. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint tremble in his forearms.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get caught,” Crowe muttered, his voice low and gruff as he leaned back in his chair. He was trying to sound stern, but the way his eyes lingered on you—dark and hungry—gave him away. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if the student president had figured out what you were doing under my desk?”

You just shrugged, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a sly grin spreading across your face. “At least I had your back, so he didn’t really hear anything. Besides, he sounded more pissed that you hung up on him than anything else.”

Crowe groaned, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe away the memory of the entire ordeal. But you could see the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile. “You’re such a menace,” he said, though there was no real heat behind his words. His voice was soft, almost fond, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room that mattered—made your stomach flip.

You stood, leaning against his desk, your grin widening. “You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with playful defiance. 

Crowe let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I really do,” he admitted, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. 

You couldn’t help but notice how flushed Crowe’s face was, the deep red hue spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Was it from the way you’d just had him unraveling under your touch?

Or maybe it was the spiked cheesecake that you convinced him to indulge in earlier, the alcohol warming his veins and loosening his usual tight control. Honestly, it could’ve been both, and the thought made a smug little smile tug at your lips. 

Either way, you wanted him to relax, to let go of whatever tension was still coiled in his body.

“Do you need the hangover pills from your bathroom?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing as you tilted your head, studying him. You were half-turned toward the door, ready to fetch them if he said yes, but Crowe shook his head almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I don’t need pills. I just need you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, and before you could respond—before you could even process what he’d said—he reached for you. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that sent a shiver up your spine.

In one swift motion, he was on his feet, pulling you toward him with a force that made you stumble. You let out a surprised laugh, but it was cut short as you collided with his chest, his other arm snaking around your waist to steady you.

And then his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, demanding, almost possessive, and you melted into it without hesitation. His tongue slid against yours, and you could still taste him on your lips—a faint, lingering reminder of what you’d just done to him. It seemed to drive him wilder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

His hands roamed over your body like he needed to touch every inch of you, to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled your head, holding you in place like he never wanted to let you go. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

You could feel the heat of him through his clothes, the way his body thrummed with restless energy like he was still riding the high of what had just happened. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rested against him. 

It was intoxicating, the way he wanted you, the way he needed you, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding into his long, soft brown hair. His hair was silky between your fingers, and you tugged gently, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against your lips. 

The sound sent a thrill through you, and you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his as you poured every ounce of your own desire into it. Crowe’s grip on you tightened, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to fuse the two of you together, and you could feel the evidence of his want pressing against your hip, hard and insistent.

The kiss was everything—hot, desperate, and full of unspoken promises. 

It was a collision of need and longing, a silent conversation that neither of you could put into words. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless, his hands gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.

And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath came in short, uneven gasps. You could see it in his eyes—the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time but no less hungry. You let yourself get lost in him, your body leaning back until the edge of his desk stopped you from moving any further. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body pressing you firmly against the desk.

One hand braced on the surface beside you, trapping you in place, while the other stayed on your waist, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally released you, you could see the redness of his face, the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. It was almost enough to make you laugh, and you couldn’t resist tapping your finger lightly on his nose. He blinked, taken aback by the playful gesture, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“It’s time to reward beloved assistant,” he said, his voice low and rough, before kissing you again. This time, it was fiercer, more demanding, and you barely had time to react before he was roughly pushing all the papers off his desk with one sweeping motion.

The sound of them scattering to the floor barely registered as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the now-clear desk. His hands stayed on your thighs, his grip firm as he leaned over you, trapping you once again.

Crowe’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with want. He was about to kiss you again, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Crowe, you’re still drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. You cupped his face in your hands, your fingertips brushing over the soft skin of his cheeks. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now clouded with a mix of desire and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “One slice of spiked cheesecake is all it takes for you to be someone else?” you teased, your fingertips grazing over his soft, parted lips.

As much as you adored Crowe, you didn’t want to take advantage of him in this state. He was always so composed, so in control, and seeing him like this—unraveled and needy—was both intoxicating and a little unsettling. 

Crowe’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “I wonder if you fed me that cake on purpose, you to take a break.” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Did you want to see me like this?”

You almost laughed. 

Yeah, maybe you did. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that to his face.

“Who could’ve guessed a small amount of alcohol would get you this drunk?” you said instead, looking down as his hands traveled up your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch was electric, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

“I never allowed myself touch alcohol,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands stopped at your waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. “But for you, I broke that rule.”

“Crowe…” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to steady yourself. His proximity, his touch, the way he looked at you—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

“You said you wanted a reward,” he said, his eyes pleading as he leaned his head down into the crook of your shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so warm. You smell like you, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than the stars in the sky.”

Confident, may you add, needy drunk definitely.

You felt your breath catch as his lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft and lingering. His hands moved back to your thighs, sliding up to your waist, and then under your shirt again, his fingers exploring the plush curve of your hips. Everywhere he touched, it felt like he was leaving a mark, branding you as his.

“You’ve been such a wonderful assistant,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “As your so-called boss, let me reward you, starlight.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the windchime laugh that escaped you, muffled against his chest. It made his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern of his ribs. 

“Crowe, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“If you want me, you can have me,” he said, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “In whichever way you want.”

In whichever way you want?

That was a dangerous offer, especially from someone like him. And you knew you’d take him up on it, again and again and again. But not like this. Not when he was drunk, his inhibitions lowered, his control slipping. 

You sighed, gently pushing against his chest to create some distance. “Jericho, you’re really drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll get the hangover pills.”

But before you could slide off the desk, Crowe grabbed your arms, pulling you back onto the surface with a force that surprised you. “Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You keep saying I’m drunk. So, must I always stay sober?” He rested his head on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. “Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control. How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

Your eyes flickered away for a moment, your hand resting on his chest as you thought about his words. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he looked at you like that, when his touch set your skin on fire. But you didn’t want to push him into something he might regret later.

“Jericho…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. You were torn, your resolve wavering under the weight of his need and your own desire. 

Fuck it. 

You were a little tipsy too.

Just a bit better at hiding it than him.

You kiss him with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, a tenderness that makes his chest ache in the best way. Crowe adores it, even as he feels a twinge of guilt for the way he wants to devour it, to take that softness and turn it into something wild and untamed. 

But for now, he lets himself sink into it, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly deepens. Lips give way to tongue, and then to teeth, his mouth nipping at your lower lip in a way that makes you gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His hands know your skin like they’ve mapped it a thousand times before, and yet every touch feels new, electric. They’re everywhere at once, hot and aching as they slide under your clothes, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

One hand slips up to your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top. The sensation is enough to make you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips that he swallows down with another kiss.

Crowe takes his time with your layered tops—first the crop top, then the tank top—peeling them off you carefully, like he’s unveiling something sacred. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes dark and hungry as he drinks in the sight of you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then he’s leaning in, his mouth finding the spot right above your sternum, where he can feel the rapid flutter of your heartbeat beneath his lip as he removes your bra.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles.

“The brightest star in my life,” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s confessing something he’s held onto for too long. He tilts his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as his hand slides under your back, fingers pressing into the dip of your spine. 

You arch into him instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as he takes his time, lavishing attention on your body despite the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers—once again a bulge as pants were still unbutton. “Such a pretty star,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “So hot to the touch.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifts you by your ass, pulling your flared yoga pants down and off in one smooth motion. His eyes follow every movement, every inch of exposed skin, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting of the standing lamp near his desk.

It casts a warm glow over you, highlighting the curves of your body as you sit on top of his desk, completely at his mercy. His gaze is intense, almost reverent, as he takes you in, his hands sliding up your thighs with a touch that’s both possessive and tender. 

“Stay still, dearest,” he murmurs, his voice a low command that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands continue their exploration, fingers lacing through yours as they move over your hips, down to the waistband of your panties. He hooks his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his breath coming a little faster now.

But of course, you can’t let him have all the fun.

“No,” you say suddenly, your voice firm but playful, pushing Crowe away with your foot on his lower chest, slowly rubbing.

Crowe freezes, his head snapping up to look at you, his cheeks still flushed with desire. “No?” he asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of amusement.

“Isn’t this my reward for being your assistant?” you ask, tilting your head as you give him a sly smile. “Shouldn’t I have a say in how this goes?”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then a smirk plays on his lips, his expression shifting from surprise to ‘of course, whatever you say.’

“My apologies, dearest,” he says, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “How selfish of me. Of course, it’s only fair that you have a say in this.” He steps closer, his hands resting on either side of you on the desk as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what is it that you desire, my sweet star? You have my full attention. Just tell me what you want.”

There was one or maybe two things.

You were sprawled back on Crowe’s desk, the cool surface pressing into your skin as your legs fell open for him. 

The edge of the desk dug into your lower back, but the discomfort was a distant thought—completely overshadowed by the way Crowe was looking at you. His deep blue eyes were dark with hunger, his gaze raking over your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His long brown hair was undone,messy, falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you couldn’t help but reach up to brush a strand away. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go, his lips curving into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

His hands slid up your thighs, his grip firm but not rough, like he was savoring the feel of you. He pushed your legs wider, settling himself between them, and you shivered as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, teasing and deliberate. His touch was electric, sending little shocks of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to keep from begging him to hurry up.

But Crowe wasn’t one to rush. He took his time, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips soft and warm against your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as he kissed his way up, his breath hot and uneven. Each kiss was slow, and deliberate, like he was mapping out every inch of you, and by the time he reached where you needed him most, you were already trembling.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill through you. And then his tongue flicked against clit, and you let out a strangled cry, your fingers tightening in his hair. He didn’t hold back, his mouth working you over with a skill that had you seeing stars, your hips lifting off the desk as you tried to get closer, to feel more.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled back, leaving you gasping and desperate. You whined, your hands tugging at his hair, but he only chuckled, the sound dark and full of promise. “Not yet,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. “You missed the best part.”

You groaned, your head falling back against the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Crowe straightened, you can heard him unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled down his boxers along with his pants.

Soon you felt his hands sliding up to grip your hips, and you could feel the heat of him as he positioned his cock at your entrance—which he slap his cock against your pussy, enough to make you jump little bit as you tried to mentally prepare yourself.

Crowe laugh softly, holding you, "Don’t worry," He started before opening your pussy with two fingers, "Just relax, right?"

That little cheeky asshole

Suddenly, he pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He felt so good, stretching you, filling you completely, and when he finally bottomed out, you both let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his head dropping forward as he tried to steady himself. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that was almost soothing. “You feel so fucking incredible.”

You could only nod, your hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders as he started to move. His pace was slow at first, almost torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. But then he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Just you.”

Crowe groaned, his pace quickening as he gave you exactly what you asked for—a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he kissed you, deep and hungry.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs higher as he thrust into you, each movement deep and deliberate. You could feel the tension building in your body, your nails digging into his back—enough to almost leave marks as you tried to hold on.

And then, just as you were about to lose yourself completely, his phone rang.

The sound was jarring, pulling you both out of the moment, and Crowe let out a frustrated groan, stop completely. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at the phone where it sat on the desk beside your head. He reached for it, his movements jerky and impatient, but when he saw the name on the screen—Student Council President—he hesitated.

“Answer it,” you moaned, your voice breathless and teasing. Your eyes met his, and you could see the conflict in his gaze—the way he wanted to ignore the call but knew he probably shouldn’t. “You know I can’t,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure. 

But you didn’t care. 

You reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you answered the call and handed it to him. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it’s something important?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful innocence.

Crowe shot you a look that was equal parts ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me’ and ‘I’m so into you it’s ridiculous.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reluctantly bringing the phone to his ear, standing up straight. “What?” he snapped, his voice sharp and impatient, like he was already done with this conversation before it even started.

The student council president’s voice crackled through the phone, loud and unmistakably pissed. “Ichabod! What the hell was that earlier? You can’t just hang up on me like that! Do you have any idea how unprofessional—” 

Then, out of nowhere. With a playful annoyed sigh, your body to move, slamming yourself hard against Crowe.

He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning into the phone, however, your warm pussy clenching around cock—deep inside you, so warm, so fucking wet and bare— he wonders if he stretching you out in all of the right places.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he was trying to keep his voice steady while you were doing your absolute best to ruin him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Unprofessional. Got it. Can we move on?”

“Move on?!” the student president screeched, his voice so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear it. “You hung up on me in the middle of a very important discussion! Do you know how much paperwork I have to deal with because of you?!”

You couldn’t help it—you smirked, your fingers digging into Crowe’s arms as you rocked against him. He shot you a glare, but it was half-hearted at best, and you could see the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Look,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, “I’ll… uh… I’ll get you the forms tomorrow, okay? Can we just—ah—drop this for now?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the president’s brain short-circuiting. “Are you… are you breathing weirdly? What’s wrong with you?”

Crowe’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked genuinely panicked—like a deer caught in headlights. His grip on your hips tightened, his body freezing as the president’s voice blared through the phone, sharp and accusatory.

But then, just as quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. His expression shifted, an unfamiliar mask of cool composure sliding back into place. 

His voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone he used when he was about to shut someone down, the one that sent shivers down your spine even when it wasn’t directed at you.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you. “I’m just… busy. Very busy. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Busy doing what?!” the president yelled, their voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. “You’re supposed to be working, not—what are you even doing right now?!”

Crowe’s lips twitched, and you could see the exact moment the mischief sparked in his eyes. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and heated, and then he smirked. 

Uh oh. 

“Jericho—” you started, your voice a warning, but he cut you off with a deep, hungry kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin. The kiss was demanding, almost possessive, and you couldn’t help but melt into it, your hands tangling in his hair as he muffled your sounds. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged, and he gave you a wicked grin that made your stomach flip.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I need you to be loud for this.”

Before you could respond, he turned his attention back to the phone, his smirk widening as he brought it to his ear. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, you know. Just… multitasking.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then the president’s voice came through, louder and more incredulous than before. “Multitasking?! What does that even mean?!”

Crowe’s grin turned downright devilish, and you could feel the way his body vibrated with suppressed laughter. “This,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, and then he thrust deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur and your breath catch. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure shot through you like a lightning bolt.

“Jericho!” you cried out, your voice breaking on his name, and he smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he turned his attention back to the phone.

“You hear that?” he said, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “I’m busy fucking at the moment. Raw and deep. Something you’ll never get with those ugly-ass clothes of yours.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth falling open as you stared at him. 

Did he really just say that? 

To the student council president? 

Your Crowe??

But before you could say anything, Crowe hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, the device skidding across the surface before coming to a stop near the edge. “Jericho!” you hissed, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You did not just say that!” 

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. “What?” he said, pulling back just enough to grin at you. 

“It’s true, plus you wanted this,” Crowe murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down to capture your nipple between his teeth. He bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue, sucking and teasing until you were squirming beneath him.

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, “There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line,” he admitted, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Maybe getting drunk was worth it. Especially fucking you at the end.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as he thrust into you again, his cock hitting that deep, sensitive spot that made your toes curl. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with a relentless intensity that left you breathless. 

Every movement was deliberate, every stroke designed to drive you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, desperate for more. “Crowe,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on. “I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, and it was all you needed to tip over the edge. Your body trembled as pleasure washed over you in waves, your walls clenching around his cock as you fell apart. Crowe didn’t let up, continuing ramming his hips into yours as he chased his own release, his breath hot against your neck as he let out a low, guttural groan.

When he finally came, it was with a force that left you both shaking. His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep, his body collapsing against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His breath was ragged, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, and you could feel the way his heart raced against your chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The room was quiet, save for the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing, the sound of your hearts still racing in sync. Crowe’s body was warm and heavy against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You could feel the way his fingers absently traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and lingering like he was memorizing every inch of you.

And then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the look he gave you—God, it made your chest ache. His gaze was dark, full of something raw and unguarded, a mix of affection and possessiveness that made your stomach flip. It was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough but tender, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“But what a way to go, right?” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your touch.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his lips soft and lingering. It wasn’t the hungry, desperate kiss from before—this was something slower, sweeter, like he was savoring the taste of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, my assistant wanted attention, and as the boss, I’m happy to provide.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice fond.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your breath hitch. “But I’m your idiot.”

And then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he traced every curve, every dip like he was trying to commit you to memory. “Forever yours,” he murmured against your lips, the words so soft they were almost lost in the space between you.

You laughed as you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. “So, what are you going to do now that you’ve probably been fired from the student council?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Crowe shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face. 

“Whatever my new boss tells me to do,” he said, his lips brushing against your palm as he kissed it. His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was pure mischief. “And right now, you’re telling me to stay right here.” You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

Good answer, assistant.

[luvleyshif4]

rafe x reader.... she's touchstarved. Maybe size/height difference. Just the wonderful feeling of him being the protector (and 'provider'). They've only been dating for a little while but he figures out that her love language is physical touch. And she's so surprised bc she isn't used to receiving love. Prob a bad family setting... thanks, love <33

JUST HOLD ME

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mention of family issues, emotional vulnerability, emotional repression, medium angst turned into fluff, reader is touch starved, implied toxic family dynamics, reader might have body dysmorphia (N/A).

Word count: 1.22k words

Authors note: heyy bb!! Tysmmm for requesting this!!! I already had something like that sitting in my drafts so I thought I’d just add some changes to suit your idea🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽honestly your idea made it sooo soo much better!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT CAUSE I KNOW I DO💗💗 (also I didn’t proof read this so let me know if there’s any grammar mistakes😝😝)

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy yet comforting. Rafe’s truck hummed softly beneath you, the glow of the dashboard lights casting faint shadows across his face.

He had picked you up an hour ago, like he always did when your texts grew short and vague, as though he could sense the things you didn’t say. The roads were empty, a blur of dim streetlights and the occasional flicker of passing headlights.

You sat in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward the door, your oversized hoodie swallowing you whole. Rafe’s hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm as the faint hum of music played in the background.

He wasn’t saying much tonight, giving you space like he always did, but you could feel his eyes flick toward you now and then, studying you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked, his voice breaking the silence but staying soft.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers playing with the strings of your hoodie. The truth was, you didn’t know how to talk about it—the way your chest felt tight every time you thought about home, the way your family’s sharp words had a way of cutting deeper than they should. It wasn’t new, but it felt heavier lately, like you were dragging something you couldn’t shake off.

“I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and hollow.

Rafe glanced at you again, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t press, though. He never did. Instead, his hand shifted, brushing lightly against your knee before returning to the gear shift. It was such a small gesture, but it made your throat tighten. You turned your head, staring out the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your hands were trembling slightly.

The silence stretched on, comfortable for him, suffocating for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Rafe—you did, more than you’d ever thought possible for someone you’d only been with for a few months. It was just that you didn’t know how to let someone in like this. You didn’t know how to let yourself be seen, not when you’d spent so long trying to shrink yourself down, to take up less space.

Rafe, of course, noticed everything.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt the shift when he slowed the truck down, pulling over to the side of the road. The engine idled softly as he put the truck in park, turning to face you fully. His brows were drawn together, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Your chest tightened again, and you shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze. “Just a long day.”

Rafe let out a soft, disbelieving huff, leaning back slightly. He didn’t look frustrated, just… concerned. And that concern was somehow worse, more overwhelming than if he’d been annoyed.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lighter but still holding that edge of care. “You don’t get this quiet unless something’s really messing with you. I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well tell me.”

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected. You glanced at him, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. Rafe’s gaze softened even further, and without thinking, he reached over, his hand hesitating for a moment before he grazed the back of his fingers against your cheek. The touch was featherlight, and yet it sent a shiver through you. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into it, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the warmth.

Rafe stilled, watching you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His hand lingered there, his knuckles brushing over your skin softly, reverently. “You’re allowed to let me in,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched at his words, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you let yourself lean into his hand fully, your head tilting slightly as though you didn’t want him to stop. His thumb shifted, lightly grazing your chin, and your eyes opened just in time to catch the way his gaze flicked down to your lips.

It wasn’t rushed or sudden. His movements were deliberate, careful, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and slow, like a promise. He kissed you with a tenderness that made your chest ache, his hand still cradling your face as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

Your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself. The kiss deepened slightly, but it stayed unhurried, every movement of his lips against yours making you feel like you were coming undone in the best possible way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing gently over your chin. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt down to your core.

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I need you to know that you’re not alone. Not with me.”

Your chest ached at his words, and you opened your eyes, meeting his. There was no judgment there, no expectation. Just him, just Rafe, offering you something you didn’t know how to accept but desperately wanted to.

Your lips parted like you might say something, but no words came. Instead, you let out a shaky breath and leaned into him again, resting your head on his shoulder this time. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, holding you tightly, protectively, as though shielding you from all the things you couldn’t put into words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself be held. Safe, warm, and, for once, not alone.

[splataii]

toji x male reader

cw: dom male character, sub male reader,

wc 1.5k

freeloader toji who likes to pop in at your place n take a load off whenever he’s in the mood.

no text, no call, no nothing. just him showing up to sleep on your bed, watching his shitty tv shows on your couch after draining your fridge for everything it's worth.

you don't get no chance to say no cause he's way too busy telling you just what an absolute angel you are as he slips through your door. you won't even know he's there, promise. but it’s hard for him to keep such a promise when he’s such a terrible roommate.

he walks around half naked like he owns the place, sweatpants falling so low around his waist that his dick threatens to fall out with every step he takes..

when he feels like being more annoying than usual, he hangs around you, leaning against doorways and faking a yawn or two to stretch so you can catch the outline of his dick, and the way his body flexes.

it makes it hard to look him in the eyes when you're telling him to pull his own weight for the millionth time that week, and he knows it.

“you got a staring problem or what?” he teases, following the way your eyes trace down to the dick print in his loose grey track pants. guys like you are just way too fuckin easy. too flustered to finish, you let him off with a simple warning before leaving him be. but what he really wants is to force ya to quit talking his ear off by getting you on your knees and shoving his cock down your throat. maybe then he could finally put that mouth a yours to good use.

toji also gets so heated about the smallest things, moving you out the way so he can be the one to answer the door to all your one night stands and potential future boyfriends. taking way too much pleasure in how they shrink in on themselves when he sizes them up from the doorway, being terribly sweeter than normal to you with all his pet names and touchiness. it seems like his hand stays glued to your waist no matter how much you pry him off a you.

everytime another guy runs with his tail between his legs, you're pointing the finger at toji, but that man couldn't care less. it’s not his fault they're too pussy. he knows exactly the type a man a doll like you needs and he can give that to you better than any of those little boys ever could.

what's more is he has no sense of personal space. it’s always, “i was just looking for something,”

when he hovers so close you can feel his smile on your neck while you all bent over in the fridge, caged between his arms as his bulge rubs against the small of your back.

or “an accident” when he’s spreading out on your already too small couch and practically forcing you onto his thigh, subtly grinding you against it everytime he moves as his hand slips around your waist and under your shirt. he’s just tryna consolidate space, honest. it ain't his fault he's as big as he is. and it's definitely not his fault you’ve got such a dirty little mind.

and he's such a mess.. clothes, dishes, everything. you find them scattered just about all over the place. the worst offense, however, was a discarded package laying on your living room table. a fleshlight, you realized seconds too late, toji making his grand entrance the moment you're shutting the box closed.

you can tell by the shit eating grin on his face that playing it cool won't cut it, but you try anyway, pretending to get back to tidying up the table as he inches up close behind you.

“i don’t mind sharing,” he breathes, hand hovering on your waist a second too long as he reaches around you for his box, “if you let me watch,”

you stay still, waiting for him to laugh it off and turn back around, but he stays leaning over you.

“youre such a…”

“i’m such a what?” he tilts his head, hand subtly sliding down to the waistband of your pants, massaging where it meets your warm skin. he's rubbing in circles, fingers gently raking up and down your side till they're slipping under your pants.

your eyes trace the veins on his hand as you feel him squeeze at your bare thigh, your underwear hitching farther up as his thumb presses close against your clothed dick. your mind spins every time you feel him inching closer to your soft cock, taking in the thought of him pulling you back into his lap and sliding your pants to your knees so he could take care of you like you deserved. mind falling away, you let yourself lean back into his chest, your hand firmly placed on his arm to ground yourself.

“..or i can always give you the real deal,” he hums your breathe hitching as he gropes at your growing bulge, his words hot on the skin of your neck as you feel his hardening dick grinding against the curve of your ass, “if, that's what his highness prefers,”

you can feel the smirk on his lips as he presses a kiss against the side of your neck, and you blink away whatever trance he had you in.

“dickhead,” you mutter, slipping out of his arms and away from him, pretending not to notice his eyes trained on you as you break away. not once does that stupid smile leave his face as he watches you leave him and his half hard cock alone in the living room.

and that's he worst part of it all.. the worst part a him.. how smug he fucking gets. no matter how much you tell him off, no matter how much he teases you, he knows you can’t never stay mad at him for long. just a few touches in all the right places, a couple spoken promises, and you're like putty in his arms.

it don't matter how much tension you got pent up from his antics; at the end of the day, you're his. and he's always gonna be there to relieve that stress for you the best way he knows how; by bending you over whatever surface is nearest and railing you till you can't think of anything but the shape of his dick stuffed down your ass.

<3

“i was so lonely last night, yknow that?” tojis cock drills into you as you do your best to keep upright against the couch, “left me hard in the living room. had to take care of it all by myself,”

but you been knew that. he made no effort to hide it seeing how loud he was yesterday. you could hear him groaning your name and all the ways he wanted to have you from the comforts of your own bedroom, body hot as you kept your thighs pressed together, waiting for him to finish.

the moment you were back from your shift he was on you, pressing open mouth kisses as he made quick work of stripping you down. he had been waiting for what felt like ages to have all of you underneath him like this, so sweet and pliant in his arms, leaning into his heavy hands. coming undone at his every touch.

“what, nothing to say?” he grunts, grip on your waist tightening as you clench around him, sucking him back in with every thrust, his hands pulling your hips to fuck back into his, “or are you gonna let this ass do all the talking?”

you shake your head, helplessly grinding against the back of the couch as he splits you open on his dick.

“‘s too much,” you cry in between broken moans, burying your face in the nearest pillow in an attempt to hide how good he feels inside you. but he comes to a slow harsh grind of his cock, hands running all up your sides until they're resting on your shoulder.

he pulls you out of your pillow, forcing you to hear the lewd sound of his cock pulling out and leaving you empty. toji grunts, your tight hole not wanting to let go before its clenching around nothing, his pre dripping down the curve of your ass and off your thighs.

you do your best to stay steady on shaky arms, desperate whines muffled by your own hands as you feel him lining up again.

“you can take it sweetheart,” he rasps before ramming back into you, your ass spasming at the harsh thrust of his cock as he stuffs you full. your hand falls away from your lips, unable to hide the moans he rips from you as he pulls out and forces his cock into your ass again and again, making sure that the only thing your body will be able to remember is the shape of him inside you.

“that's it, doll,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss at the tears threatening to fall from your eyes as his strong arms keep you upright, “now let me hear you,”

[myvoiddreams]

Fragments of Starlight

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With the impending war, Y/N is captured by Hybern's general. As they struggle to protect those they care about, they reflect on their unrequited feelings for Azriel and their insecurities within the Night Court.

Word Count: 4,585

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: This is my first time ever writing anything like this. I am a true sucker for angst. This is meant to go along with some of the events of ACOWAR, but of course, it’s different. Please don’t come at me for not following it’s exact story line. ALSO, I know that Azriel or Feyre would NEVER, but it’s just for the heartache okay!!

Part 2, Part 3

------

Now

All of it, it was all going to shit. I don’t know how my ears weren’t bleeding at the sheer amount of noise coming from the chaos around me. So much screaming, but was it Hybern’s forces, or our own? Everything was ringing, my head throbbing along with it. It was almost as if my breaths were not reaching my lungs. I was on the ground, all fours underneath me as I tried and tried to get myself to my feet. Everything was sore, it was like my muscles were not working. I stretched for the source of the aching on my temple and what I found was the warm, wet consistency of fresh blood.

My family, where is my family? Panic drenched me like a bucket of ice water.

With a groan, I grabbed my sword that lay beside me and turned to face the sky, now sitting at least. The sky, it was so blue. It almost felt like a disgusting joke to see something so beautiful, as dead bodies lay at my feet. Hybern’s forces were surrounding me, there was no escaping this.

I grit my teeth as I stand, my blade in hand. Dizziness rolls off me in waves, so much so that nausea is found coursing through my veins. I don’t get very far up before I’m slammed back down to the earth. My face hits the dirt as all the air leaves my lungs, leaving nothing but the taste of the earth and blood in my mouth. There is someone standing on my back, applying enough pressure I’m sure I’ll have a broken rib or two.

“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. We are just getting started with you.” A cry of pain leaves my lips as one of Hybern’s generals continues to crush my ribcage. The nausea and ringing in my head is too much. Then, with another blow to my head, everything is dark.

---

Before

“Oh, come on now sweet cheeks! You can do better than that. Az and I trained you myself!” Cassian’s voice was oh so annoying as he pinned me to my back. Sweat was gleaming across both of us as we spent the morning training. I was panting as my mind continued to reel.

Life had gotten tense with the Inner Circle recently. Not only was Prythian on the cusp of war with Hybern, but now we had to juggle the two newly made Fae that were the Archeron sisters.

I honestly felt bad for them. They did not ask for this life. I can only image what it would be like to go through life having your humanity ripped from you. Now knowing that you are going to be around for centuries instead of decades. And I felt bad for Feyre, who never wanted to see her sister’s dragged into this.

Usually, Azriel would be here with Cassian and me. Usually. It seemed as though Azriel had been getting far in over his head with the middle Archeron sister as of late. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But, I would never admit that fact out loud. Elain was half here and half not. Whenever she did speak, she’d just spew some crap that didn’t make any sense. But, that didn’t stop Azriel from spending any time he was not preparing for the war, with her.

Azriel. My heart seized at just the mention of his name. I had known the Shadowsinger for centuries. I stood by his side as he faced his own inner turmoil about Rhys being taken from us right under our feet. I stood by him even before that as I watched Windhaven and Devlon try to take was little he had away from him. Really, I had stood by everyone in this Inner Circle. But Azriel, Az was different. This too I would never admit out loud.

It took me holding him one night, after he had dreamt of his hands being lit aflame again, that it snapped. In all his vulnerability, it just, snapped. Az and I had shared a connection, a friendship, and I had loved him far long before the mating bond clicked in place. It only felt right that it was him. But, it hasn’t snapped for him.

It hurt, every single day, it hurt. And to watch him try so hard to make whatever it was happen with Elain, who was mated to someone else, made me feel worthless. This too, was not his fault. How was he supposed to know when I refused to breathe a word of it. Honestly, it might be a good thing, the distance. It hurts, but Azriel deserves happiness. I don’t know if I’m the one who can give him that.

“Damnit Cass!” I grunted as I fought back from his restraint.

“You are letting yourself get sloppy, Y/N. No room for that on the battlefield.” His face was smug. I felt some embarrassment creep up my neck and find its way on my cheeks.

“I know, I know.” I huffed. “Just let me up already.” I gave up on fighting back. Recently I found myself lacking the energy I used to have. I used to be full, driven, but I have found myself distant lately.

“Look, are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You have not had your head in the game recently.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Cassian only wanted to check on me, it was nice really. I just wasn’t used to it. I had been the one the members of this court had always leaned their heads on. There just seemed to be no room for the others to do the same for me. So, I never asked them to. I wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m fine Cass, just tired.” I retorted.

“Aren’t we all sweet cheeks.” He said as he patted my back.

---

Now

Fire is crackling somewhere near me, but I can’t feel its warmth. I feel myself chained up. My arms were far above my head, hanging me from a support post. My feet had been stripped of their shoes, and now chains wrapped around my ankles. My body hurt, breathing hurt, and my head hurt. I was sure that this hellhole was only going to make it worse.

“Ah, there she is. Glad to see you actual awoke, we were starting to get worried.” Spoke the same general who broke my ribs.

I kept my mouth shut, only glaring at the direction of the voice. My vision was still blurry, and where I hope there was only one of him, I saw three.

The entrance flap of the tent open and closed to reveal another male. This one, I recognized. The King of Hybern himself.

“If it isn’t Y/N of the Night Court. I have to say, my men did a fine job bringing you in here for me. Wouldn’t you say so?” His voice was gruff. “Now that you’re here, we some questions we need answered, and I suggest you do answer them, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to find out what will happen if you don’t cooperate.”

I lazily lifted my head toward the King and sneered. “Try me.” I bit back, my voice laced with venom.

“Oh, I was afraid you’d say something of those sorts.” The king waved in another male, he was in head to toe in black. Something similar to what I’d see our very own Shadowsinger wear. Only this male was no where near the build of Az, but damn, did he look pissed.

The male pulled out a small dagger that was sheathed on their waist and made his way closer to me. I couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape my lips, “Size does matter you know,” I quipped. I know this man was here to interrogate me, but I could not let these people know how truly vulnerable I felt.

“Oh? I beg to differ.” The male stated as he plunged the dagger into the flesh of my calf.

---

Before 

Rhys wanted to have a family dinner tonight. It would be the first one in quite a long time. With everything going on, who was to blame anyone? I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it though. I used to love the time I could spend with my family, but now, it wasn’t the same. Not when my family was no longer the same. 

Rhys had Feyre, who don’t get me wrong, I love, and I love to see Rhys have the mate he has always deserved. But, with the additions of the Acheron sisters came with something strained. Cass hasn’t said anything, but I see the way he looks at Nesta. Nesta, who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, or any of us for that matter. Mor and Amren hadn’t been around as of late. Both were too busy preparing for this inevitable war. Mor with being an emissary and Amren with working out some logistics of the Cauldron. 

And Az. Azriel was no longer seeking me out. No longer spending time in the training ring or the library with me. Instead, he was with Elain. 

And then, there was me. Before this family all I was, was alone. Finding this family had saved me in more aspects than one, but I can feel it shifting under my feet, about to give way and take me with the edge of it. 

This though, is something I would never speak about. There is enough going on as it is. No one needs to be burdened about me, my unreciprocated feelings for the Shadowsinger, or my silly feelings of insecurity. I’m a friend to the court, a warrior, sometimes an advisor, but, I am nothing compared to the rest of them. I simply do not hold enough importance, and that is something I must live with. Something I am terrified they will realize as well. 

I was the last to make it to the table. Cauldron, even Elain is here. And next to Elain was Az. Hazel eyed, messy haired, Az. We caught each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep up onto my face in greeting, and he smiled back.

I took my seat next to Cass and Amren and looked at the table around me. Even though war was around the corner, it felt good to gather as if nothing was wrong. Conservation started buzzing, everyone started eating, and I drifted off to a place that wouldn’t hurt me.

—- 

Now

Sweat is dripping off me in beads. My body is littered with cuts and bruises. But, I didn’t say a word. Not a single word about the size of our armies, not a word about what Rhys and the others had planned, not a word about our allies. Not a word. And I was paying for it.

Gods. They had left me here, giving me a break from the beatings and the torture. Whatever the used must have been laced with faebane because I have never felt this weak. This out of control of myself. I wasn’t healing, and I was still losing blood. At this rate, it wasn’t looking good. I was still hanging from my arms, I’m sure at this point I had a shoulder out of it’s socket. A rustling began again at the entrance of the tent.

“Back for more?” I croaked. My throat was completely dry from the screaming. But, when I got my eyes open enough to see what the cause of the noise was, my heart stopped dead in it’s tracks.

Elain.

---

Before

I retreated from dinner early. As pitiful as it sounds, I couldn’t be around it. I couldn’t stand to see Azriel with her any longer. Not when I knew he was the one who was slowly healing her and ruining me.

Knocking at my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts and I was looking into a book, not really reading it. “Come in,” I shouted.

The site of Azriel caught me off guard. Once upon a time, it was normal for him to seek me out from my room. Now, it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t help but tense.

“Oh! Az!” I put my book down and stood. “How are you doing?” I smiled up at him.

“You would know if you hadn’t left dinner so early.” He looked down at me, frowning and crossing his arms. It was rare that Az was upset with me.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m tired after training today.” I gave him a sad smile, not wanting him to push the issue further. “But please, tell me what I missed.”

This somehow made his shadows start to swirl around him and he huffed. “I was telling everyone how much progress Elain had made. She’s having actual conversations now.” He smiled at it, proud.

I tried not to show any hurt on my face. I have no right for this to hurt me. He was helping someone, and I had to be pitiful enough that I was jealous.

“That’s amazing Az, you’ve helped her a lot.” I let another smile grace my face. Before I knew what I was saying it was falling out of my lips, “But, you do realize that she is mated, right?”

Azriel’s demeanor shifted. His shadows became agitated, “Elain is a friend. She is going through a lot, and she needs support.” He sighed, “Plus, I think that cauldron could be wrong.” That sentence alone was enough to rip whatever was left in me to shreds. Why couldn’t he see me?

I had to take a deep breath to keep the silver lining in my eyes in place. “Az, when in your life have you ever seen the cauldron be wrong? Why would it start being wrong now?”

“Look, maybe you’ll understand one day, but it’s wrong about her and Lucien.” He crossed his arms now.

“It sounds like you want to it be wrong. Whether it is, or not.”

Azriel was growing frustrated. His eyebrow ticked and he huffed, “Can you blame me for wanting something more?”

“She is mated Azriel. Off limits.” I tried to stress him. “I don’t want to see you hurt if it doesn’t turn out the way you want.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t want my mate ripped away from me, I’m sure Lucien doesn’t either.” He doesn’t even realize that I’m talking about him. Not a single clue.

“Ripped away? Look Y/N, just because you’re alone, does not mean I have to be. Why are you making this about you?” He nearly snarled at me. Snarled. “I have finally found another purpose other than this war. I have found something, someone, to spend my time with and enjoy.”

His words hit me like an arrow to the chest. Alone. Maybe they all did see me, and they just didn’t care. Why couldn’t I be enough for him? Why hadn’t in all the time and cherished memories we have together be enough. We had held each other in hardship. We had trained together. We had grown together. We had spent countless Starfalls together. We had shared so many laughs and touches. Why wasn’t what we had enough for him?

The weight of Azriel’s words hung in the air, heavy silence settling between us. My heart ached with the sting of his remark, and I fought to keep any of my remaining composure.

I deflated, “Az,” I tried to sigh as he cut me off again.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that I’m just trying to help someone who’s been through a lot. You’re jealous and it’s clouding your judgment.” He stared at me, and I had to look away. I didn’t realize it but I began to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage, or from the way my heart cracked as he spoke.

“I think you should go Az.” My voice began to break, and I could tell that my walls were going to come down. Not once had I ever asked him to leave.

His own eyes softened, and he reached for me, “Wait.”

He tried to continue but I cut him off, “Leave, Azriel.” I turned to face away from him. I gathered my arms together. I couldn’t let him see the tears that were rolling down my face, I wouldn’t.

He pulled his arm back to himself and hesitated, seeing the pain he was causing me. Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind with a heavy finality.

---

Now

Elain. What the fuck was she doing here?

Seeing her tore me from my stupor. She acted as if she was in a trance, half there. I was really panicking now. I could take this torture and pain, Elain, I don’t think she would last. I could hardly pull at my restraints at this point.

“Elain! Elain!” I screamed at her, trying to get her attention. One of the males that was hauling her in, left her side and strolled to mine. Next thing I knew I was tasting my own blood in my mouth as his fist met with my face. As the blood welled up in my mouth, I felt rage hit me. I spat at him. His face now coated with the bloody saliva that he caused me.

He wiped his hand over his face, ridding it of its bloody covering. I snarled at him as he drew a blade. Good. This way the focus would stay on me and not Elain. He brought the blade to my face, slicing a thin mark down my cheek. “If you wanted more, you could’ve just asked.” He trailed the blade down my neck, and now to my collar bone, all the while slicing lightly as he went. He brought his lips to my ear and his hand grabbed my face, “I have so much more than just blades and fists in store for you, girl.”

It was almost too hard to stomach. I didn’t want to know what he was alluding to. Elain, do this for Elain. I told myself. I kept silent and he pushed me away, returning to the other male who was already putting Elain into restraints.

Why is she here? Why is she not fighting back?

As they finished with her restraints, Hybern himself walked back into the tent.

“Cauldron be damned, if it’s not also Feyre’s cauldron made sister.” Hybern chuffed, “We are truly going to have such a fun time together.” He chuckled as he looked between Elain and I.

He nodded at his men and they both reach for their knives. One for me. One for Elain.

“Wait!” I blurted as I saw the man move toward Elaine, “Please, leave her unharmed.”

“Hmm,” hummed Hybern, “Now, tell me pretty thing, why would I do that?”

“She’s a Seer. Please, you must leave her unharmed or she will be no use to anyone. She will not come out of any trance if she is harmed.” I didn’t know if what I was blabbing was true. I only knew that I needed to protect Elain, for she could not protect herself.

Hybern nodded again at the male who was at Elain’s side. The male sheathed his blade and I let out a silent sigh.

“You on the other hand,” Hybern turned his attention back on me, “I have some questions about pretty Elain.” A wicked smile reached the lips of the male in front of me, as he lifted his blade threatening. “You, dear Y/N, best answer them.”

The male reached for my shirt and tore it in half. Now leaving my chest and abdomen exposed to the air, only a warrior’s wrap covering my breasts. I gasped at the bite of the air reaching my skin. My abdomen was littered with black and blue bruising from the beatings. The faebane in my system slowing any kind of healing.

I turned my face to a stone grimace. I could do this. I told myself. If nobody comes for you, then surely someone will come for Elain.

That truth hurt almost as much as the torture that I was being put through.

---

Before

It had been about a week since I’d seen Azriel. The bond that used to hum in my chest felt vacant. Rhysand had sent me and Cassian to one of the Illyrian war bands that were positioned in case of an attack.

It was a single flaming arrow that was sent into a tent that set everything into utter chaos. Cassian was in the middle of a meeting with some of the other commanders, and I was in the training ring.

Hybern’s forces hit us as if we were nothing but an anthill in their way.

I don’t know where Cassian was as I fought and fought, until I was brought down.

---

Now

I was hardly holding on. I had no energy to cry out anymore. No energy to even lift my own head up. My abdomen and back was near ribbons after that male drove his blade into me again and again.

Elain had seemed to snap in and out of it. When she was somewhat coherent, she would only cry. I felt bad for her, but I had done what I could do protect her. There wasn’t a single scratch on her.

At thinking of Elain my mind drifted to Azriel. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if not, her.

The inner circle had to know that something was wrong at this point. I only hope that Cassian was also okay after we were ambushed. I’m sure if he wasn’t, he’d be right next to me also receiving the beatings I was.

Blood dripped down my back, creating a small pool under me. I truly didn’t know how much longer I would last. I had never felt weaker in my life.

I should’ve told him that night. Anguish was suffocating me. I found myself retracing everything I did as of late. The way I stole myself away from my family because I was being nothing but pitiful. The way they started to treat me differently. The way one no one would come to me anymore, and I would not go to them. No wonder they have left you here. You are nothing to them. My mind bit at me.

What truly bothered me was the downfall of mine as Azriel’s friendship. He was the one person I could always truly count on. If I had fallen in training, if I had drank too much, if some stupid male had broke my heart, it was always Azriel that had caught me, and me him. It’s why I fell in love with him long before the bond snapped its place into my heart. And now I was going to die without him ever knowing. I was simply going to fade away as my blood pooled underneath me.

It's better this way. I told myself. Elain is unharmed, and I will fade before anyone knows of this bond. The war will be won and Az will be able to move on with someone he finds joy in.

I couldn’t help but let tears run down my face. I wanted to scream, to find some way out, but with the faebane running through me, I was simply too weak.

---

I woke to the sound of rustling at the entrance of the tent. The rustling led to Elain, and I could hear her restraints being messed with. I nearly couldn’t pry my eyes open at the sound. Maybe they would finally take me from my misery. I silently hoped. That’s when I heard a quiet gasp. I looked up to see.. Feyre? And behind her, the one messing with Elain’s chains, Azriel.

My heart lurched to a stop. They had come to help, we were going to get out.

“Azriel..” Feyre quietly said as he brought Elain into his arms.

“What.” He nearly hissed at her. That’s when he looked up and truly saw me.

“Az.. Feyre..” I choked on my words. Help was here. I was going to get out of here. To make it. Finally something positive bloomed in my chest in place of where that hole had found itself.

Azriel set Elain back down and rushed to my side. He put a hand to my cheek, “Y/N, we couldn’t find you anywhere. Cass, he said you were missing after the battle.” His touch sent shivers down my beaten spine.

My restraints still bore heavily into my wrists where I was strung up. Then, there was rustling and yelling coming from outside of the tent.

“Help me down, please.” My voice was raw and pleading.

The yelling was getting closer and closer.

“Az, we have to leave, now.” Feyre said, trying to scoop Elain into her arms.

Azriel’s hand left my cheek, and panic flared into his eyes as he took in my state.

Hybern’s soldiers were coming, realizing something was wrong. Azriel looked between Elain and I, backing up from where I was strung up. He was backing away from me. Why was he backing away from me?

My own panic started to settle deep inside of me, long squashing any hope that had found it’s place.

“Azriel… please,” I coughed quietly. Dread was setting deeply inside of me. They didn’t plan on saving two. They came here for Elain, not me.

A sob found it’s way onto my lips as he picked Elain from Feyre’s arms. Feyre herself looking torn, her eyes expressing so much anguish.

“We will come back Y/N. I promise.” Azriel’s words were yet another punch to the gut.

I couldn’t help but let the sobs I had been holding onto for so long bubble out of me.

“Please don’t leave me here.” I cried, no longer caring for the quietness. They both stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I was gasping for air as this point, “If you’re not going to take me, then at least put me down.”

Their eyes widened at my statement, but I couldn’t hold for much longer. I needed this pain to end. This suffering to be over with.

“We will be back. I will come straight back.” Azriel hushly stated. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes were boring into me. They were trying to convince me he was telling the truth, but I knew better. I knew that they were only getting into the camp once successfully.

They chose Elain. They were going to leave me behind.

“Just kill me, please kill me…” I sobbed, “Please if you are going to leave me behind, then just kill me.”

Feyre was crying now, and Azriel. I knew, that even though he was choosing Elain, Elain to save, and Elain to love, he still wouldn’t harm me.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feyre bubbled out of her crying lips as she quickly left the tent under her cloak.

Azriel and I made eye contact again through my sobbing, through the tears that were leaving my eyes in force. “I will be right back. I will come back for you.” And then, he was gone. With Elain in his arms.

I broke, truly broke. No weapon could hurt me as much as the sight of who I loved most, my mate, leaving me here, strung up and bleeding out.

[sassatoru]

Hey sis, can I request a Dahlia with burlap and maybe some lace 🤭

Jason Todd X reader where reader is Selina Kyles protege and a vigilante, her superhero name is Kitten.

They had a rivalry going back to Jason's Robin days, flirted like crazy on patrol, started dating in secret and reunite after his death.

You can choose how this goes, your writing is addictive to read, never stop doing what your doing.

Have a good day, and congratulations for 2000 followers! 💓

DON’T YOU LOVE ME STILL?

pairing. jason todd x fem!reader

warnings. smut

a/n. thank you

“tsk tsk, kitty.”

he circled you like an animal would their prey, the red hood had been chasing you for months. he’d get meaner every time you slipped from his grip but somehow he knew you.

your name, your thieving patterns, the way you flirted, everything.

“what now? i haven’t done anything wrong have i?”

you retorted, eyeing his figure. he was a big guy, you’d give him that much, big and clearly very strong. if you weren’t so annoyed at him you’d probably try to sleep with him.

“no?”

“mhm, i’ve been a good girl, Hood.”

jason loved the way you spoke to him, the teasing flirt in you voice. he knew he should’ve told you by now, that it’s him. your jason was home, but he wasn’t your jason now was he? no.

he was different, twisted, dirtied, he had blood on his hands. blood your jason would’ve never spilled in the first place.

“i don’t think stealing is classed as being a good girl, doll.”

you hated how much you liked hearing him call you that, you’re not sure when he had gotten closer but now he was towering over you. you liked that too though, how big he was in comparison to you.

he could dwarf you twice over. snap you in half without a thought, fuck imagine how he’d be in bed— no. back on track. you refused to go down that road.

“stealing to survive isn’t bad, is it?”

“you wouldn’t have to do any of that if you just took my offer.”

his offer. join him, not fighting on the streets but jason knew how well you could take down an organisation. how good you were at infiltrating. he needed that sort of skill if he was going to burn black mask to the ground.

“come on, baby doll. i’ll take care of you.”

you scoffed, turned your head away from him and he couldn’t help it then.

“don’t you love me still?” he asked, head tilting to the side as he watched you, stepping closer to tilt your head back up at him. “i know i was gone for six years—”

“jason.”

he had to give it you. you were so much smarter than anyone would give you credit for.

“that’s me, pretty.”

he loved the tremble of your lips as he pulled his helmet off, tossing it to the side as he revealed his face to you. even behind all those scars you’d know him anywhere.

your hands moved to cup his face immediately, eyes darting across his features. when had his eyes turned that shade of blue, it was bordering green now but they were just as beautiful as you remembered.

“you’re here… how?”

his eyes close as he leans into your touch, leaning his head down so you can hold him without the stretch.

“i’ll tell you another time, baby. i promise, right now i need you.”

his eyes open again and your stomach flutters at the way he looks at you, hungry and wanting. as if he’d waited those six years for this exact moment.

“can i have you?”

“you never have to ask that.”

he doesn’t waste a second, pressing you against a wall. and you’re reminded about the size difference between the two of you again. how’d he get so big?

he seems to have sensed your thoughts because he grins smugly, “like what you see, baby?”

“hm? you like being so much smaller than me that i have to lift you up so you can be face to face with me?” as if to emphasise his point he does just that, lifting you up and pressing your back against the wall.

you wrap your legs around his hips when his hands move to hold your ass, keeping you up by holding under.

“you changed.” you note aloud, eyes running down his upper body, your finger trailing down his chest.

“good or bad?”

“i like it.”

he smiles genuinely, playfully squeezing your ass as he rests his fore head against yours. “i missed you, baby. all those years gone, you were the only thing i remembered clearly.”

he kissed at your neck, whispering into your ear. his teeth scraped your neck. his kisses got more eager, needy and then his lips were on yours.

one of his hands had moved to your front to undo the zipper that ran over your chest. he knew how naked you’d be under the suit, your suit left no room for under garments.

he pawed at your breasts the second they were free before walking you through the set of emergency fire doors, he’d chosen this rooftop on purpose. he lived in this building.

he broke the kiss to walk the two of you down the stairs and onto his floor, you occupied yourself with leaving a series of pretty pink and purple marks on his neck. twisting your head so you could leave one on his adam’s apple too.

he dumped you on his bed, watching the way you bounced on the mattress before pulling off your suit. he did the same, tearing off his uniform, tossing it around the room before meeting you on the bed right after you tossed your domino mask aside.

your hands moved to pull the pair of cat ears atop of your head off but he stopped you. “keep ‘em on f’me.”

you nodded obediently and he couldn’t help but tease. “so snarky earlier, doll. what happened?”

“shut up and fuck me.” you scoffed, spreading you legs open for him.

his eyes dropped to your pussy, glistening in the moonlit room. he eyed you with no shame and you did the same. you mouth watering at the sight of his cock, you weren’t sure it would fit in you, something of that size

his hand moved to prepare you but you shook your head, “please jay. i don’t wanna wait.”

how could he say no when you asked so prettily. lining himself up with your entrance he pushed his tip through with a groan, head falling forward as yours fell back.

his hands kept your thighs spread open for him, “nearly half way, baby. you can do it, good girl.”

you whined at the stretch, he was so big. so big everywhere, his arms, his thighs, his hands, broad shoulder and chest, his cock.

finally he stopped pushing in, filling you all the way up. he waited, giving you time to adjust to his monstrous size. he laid on top of you, calmly breathing, giving you a sense of peace in the middle of all this before you tapped his bicep. “you can move.” you murmur to him.

he nods, pulling out most of the ways until the head of his cock is the only thing inside you before pushing back in, slowly to ease you around him.

his pace quickens over time, he fucks you faster with each thrust. soon he’s plowing into you, your knees hooked over his shoulders so he can angle himself deeper in you.

every time he fucks himself back into you, your body jolts as if you’re trying to get away from him, your thighs quiver. and he’d be concerned about your crying if you weren’t moaning his name like a prayer and asking for more.

“yeah? you like that, baby?” he coos, though his voice isn’t as smooth as intended, its rough and more like a growl. “you’re mine again, aren’t you?”

“yes yes yes.” you chant, nails scratching down his chest. “yours, all yours. jay, ‘m gonna—”

“i know, baby. you gonna cum f’me?”

you nod, “yes, please jay. can i?”

“can you what, doll? use your words, tell me what you want.”

“can i cum? please jay, i wanna—”

“cum for me, doll. show me how good you can be for me, show me and i’ll give you more.”

and you do, you come on his cock and he groans before he comes too, fucking you through it. slowing down when you ask him to because the overstimulation burns.

he kisses your cheek, nuzzling against it. “i missed you.” he hears you mumble, your arms wrap around his neck as he turns you over to lay on top of him, his softening cock still inside you.

“i missed you too, baby.”

he can feel your heart thumping in your chest as you eyes close. “you’ll stay?” you ask, despite this being his apartment.

“i’m never leaving you again.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[rainrot4me]

Gently, Now

Summary: You have to show Eijiro how to be gentle.

Characters: Eijiro Kirishima x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Public fingering, under the table, fingering, embarrassment, deprivation, dildo, vaginal, eating out, begging, dub-con, power struggle, size difference

Words: 4.1k

Dating Eijiro was anything but gentle.

On the exterior, he was an all-around good guy: a good friend, a hard worker, and a strong upcoming hero - all the things you would expect from a loving guy like him. But what people didn’t see, what Eijiro so carefully hid behind closed doors, was someone completely different.

Eijiro and you had cultivated a kind of puppy love for the first couple of years at UA. Your crushes on each other had turned into nervous hand-holding and pecks on the cheeks whenever you got the chance. But as the months passed and your relationship became official, it was like you were dating someone else. 

Around others, Eijiro was normal. Always happy and willing to help whenever he could. So of course it would have been impossible to expect how different he would be when you two were alone together.

Kirishima was a full-fledged pervert. 

He was obsessed. Can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t avoid kissing every exposed inch of your skin. When someone’s too close, he’ll wrap his hand around your waist and pull you close, mumbling to you about how annoying people are. And don’t even mention when you two end up in a room alone together. He’ll be quick to push his tongue into your mouth, gripping your hair to hold you still, sharp teeth knicking against your lips. You end up pushed against whatever surface is closest and thick fingers are shoved between your folds, working desperately to hear your anxious voice as you try to keep quiet. It’s like a game to him. Your dignity means nothing as long as he can feel your skin against his, edging you to orgasm no less than three times every chance he gets. 

In the best way you could put it, it was exhilarating. There was nothing ever gentle about the way he made love to you, it was always a competition to see how many times he could make you cum compared to the last encounter. And, fuck, was he good at making you cum. After being together for a couple of years, Eijiro was well-acquainted with your body, knowing every spot that made you tingle against his lips, or just how to angle his cock to make you cum quickly, or even exactly how you liked your nipples sucked. He wasn’t always like this, but as his confidence and curiosity grew with you, he had little to no restraint with you anymore. Anything he wanted to try, you best believe he was going to whether you wanted him to or not. You had to wonder if it was all the pent-up energy from middle school. Not being popular didn’t give him an outlet to satisfy himself, so when he finally got a hold of you, it just sent him into a spiral. In turn, this made him insanely dominant. You never got a chance to take control in any situation as he was already on you, controlling your every movement. 

So when you were invited on a double date with Kaminari and Jiro, you were nervous about it already. It wasn’t that Eijiro wasn’t a good boyfriend, he really was. He was always looking out for you at school or on missions, buying you whatever you wanted, and taking great care of you no matter how he was feeling. Eijiro was everything you could’ve ever wanted. His only stint was the constant horniness he had that never seemed to dwindle. 

So as you rode in the passenger seat of his truck, speeding down the highway to the little restaurant the other couple had suggested, you held his wrist tightly, tugging it desperately. Eijiro watched the road carefully, his left hand gripping the wheel as his right was shoved between your thighs, fingers curling up into your soaked cunt. His thick fingers stretched you, your face flushed and hot as you frantically tried to catch your breath. “Eiji- Please… We’re almost there-” You begged, clamping your knees together tightly as you tried to pull his hand away. You were close already and knew that. He claimed constantly that when you were about to cum, your chest would heave frantically with your quick breathing, telling him exactly when to speed up and drive you over the edge. It was annoying how close he paid attention, but as an upcoming hero, you guessed it was only right. 

“Then I guess you’d better hurry up and cum then, huh?” He teased, jerking his palm against your clit and making you whine. You wrapped your arms around his large bicep, the thick muscles tensing as he curled his fingers deep. His veins were popping out nicely, your nails digging into his skin as you came around his fingers. You cried out, eyes clamping shut as you rode out your pleasure, gasping as he pulled out slowly and rubbed your clit for good measure. You let go of his hand, knees falling limp as you panted, eyes heavy. The bulge in his jeans was evident, but there was no time to worry about it as you tugged your panties and shorts back up, Eijiro pulled into the parking lot, and cars packed in as the fancy noodle restaurant was bumping. 

Pulling next to Jiro’s small car, you fixed your clothes, glancing at yourself in the mirror before Eijiro rounded the corner, opening the door for you and helping you out of his jacked-up red truck. His arm instantly slid behind you, giving your ass a nice squeeze before wrapping around your waist, walking you to the entrance. Your cunt was still throbbing, cheeks still red as you walked into the restaurant. Jiro waved you down, the couple sat in a booth in the back corner of the dimly lit restaurant. The place was busy, with staff and customers running around while the wonderful smell of noodles and seafood filled the air. 

“Hey, guys. Wait took forever but we finally got a table.” Jiro smiled as you both slid into the other side of the booth, Kaminari bumping fists with Eijiro. “Ah, sorry to make y’all wait.” You chimed, ignoring the conversation the boys were loudly having next to you. 

You felt good, Jiro gossiping about other classes and her work studies while the boys argued over which soccer team was going to win the Japanese championships. Your food eventually came, the ramen bowls you all ordered steaming and looking wonderful as you filled yourselves with food and good conversation. You were fairly surprised with Eijiro and how well he was behaving, checking on you occasionally but more interested in what Kaminari had to say about the new workout routine he was trying. It was nice. The dim lighting made Eijiro look tan, his thick arm muscles nice against his black t-shirt. He was a very beautiful man, and he was your man. 

Nodding to whatever Jiro was saying, you slid your arm around his, hooking your hand around his bicep as you both continued talking, smiling at the warmth. You liked intimate moments like this, the domestic things that reminded you just how much you loved him. You thought it was cute, but that was your mistake. As Eijiro’s arm slid off the table and down to grip your thigh, you gritted your teeth, knowing that you had caught his attention. His large hand gripped tight against your upper thigh, pinkie brushing against your clothed crotch and nudging against the fabric. You grit your teeth, trying desperately to close your thighs tight as Jiro turns to ask Kaminari something, giving you a chance to swat his hand. Eijiro glanced over, a small smirk on his mouth as he pressed his fingertips against your clothed clit, circling slowly. Your previously soaked panties rubbed against you, making your hips stutter as you stared daggers at him.

“Eiji-” You mumbled quietly, wrapping your hands around his forearm and pushing it, but there was no budge. He chuckled quietly, embarrassment growing against your cheeks. He was getting more brave, more daring. He never would have tried this a year ago, but you guessed comfortability has a way of showing people’s true colors. “Quiet.” He cooed, Kaminari refocusing his attention back to Eijiro and began talking exactly where they let off. Jiro excused herself to the bathroom, sliding across Kami’s lap and into the opposite end of the restaurant. You stiffened, leaning your head against Eijiro’s shoulder as his fingers refused to let up. You had no idea how Kaminari wasn’t noticing your heavy breathing or the tint on your cheeks, but you guessed the lighting in the room and his terrible attention span made it easier to hide. You gripped onto the large arm across your body, nails begging him to pull away as his hand slipped under your shorts. Eijiro’s fingers shoved your panties to the side, his fingertips sliding against your folds until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You spread your legs, letting his fingers slide against your entrance and press in, closing your eyes and pressing your face against his arm. You felt the vibration of Eijiro talking against his arm as you breathed in his scent, trying your damnest to stay quiet as his fingers stretched you. This was so wrong, but it felt so good. You sucked a breath in when he curled his fingers, gritting your teeth.

“[Y/N]?” Shit. You hadn’t realized Jiro had already slid back into the booth until she was questioning you, concern lacing her voice. You opened your eyes, looking at her with hot cheeks, gripping Eijiro’s arm tight. “She said she wasn’t feeling too great. Think we need to head out soon. Maybe get her home to lay down.” Eijiro answered, allowing your face to fall back against his arm and let out a heavy breath you were holding. His palm was nudging against your clit, his arm flexing ever so slightly but to anyone else, it would have just looked like he was rubbing your leg gently. Jiro voiced her concern, urging Kaminari to pay the tab as Eijiro tugged his hand out of your shorts, fingers slick with your arousal. He quickly wiped them on his jeans, helping you out of the booth as your knitted brows stared him down. He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your hips and hauled you to the truck, helping you inside. Jiro and Kaminari waved their goodbyes, mentioning something about ice cream before sliding into her car. 

As Eijiro slid into the driver’s seat and started the loud engine, you slapped his shoulder hard. He huffed a laugh, peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. “Right in front of them? Seriously?” You groaned, your arousal still heavy in your abdomen as Eijiro’s hand slid to grip your knee. He smiled, glancing at you but quickly dropping it as you stared daggers into him. “That was uncalled for. You fucking horndog.” You spat, crossing your arms and knocking his hand off your knee. “Listen, babe-”

“Just drive, Eiji.” You huffed, staring out the window. The silence was loud. Eijiro kept to his side of the console and glanced nervously at you, making you feel bad. But this was for his good. Eijiro had no sense of understanding as to why his constant overpowering nature made you so anxious, always wondering why you didn’t enjoy it as much as he did. You were going to have to speak in a language he could understand. 

Pulling onto the UA campus, Eijiro followed you through the dorm building, waving to your classmates in his usual happy demeanour, but letting his anxiety show when he turned back to you. “[Y/N]...” He whined, reaching for your hand as you climbed the stairs but you pulled it away, ignoring him. You could feel the desperation as he loomed behind you, following you to your dorm. You pushed open the door, Eijiro quickly following you inside out of fear of being locked out. He tried to grab your hands, but you pulled back, closing the door and turning to him.

“Eiji.” You hissed, crossing your arms. If there was one thing Eijiro didn’t like it was you upset. Out of any circumstance, he would do whatever he could to make you feel better. But watching this large hero cower under your gaze and shrivel in on himself made you nervous, fidgeting your fingers. “On the bed, please.” You gritted, shuffling to your closet and pulling out a large shoebox. Eijiro slid to the bed nervously, sitting on the edge and leaning back, watching you nervously. 

When you opened the box, Eijiro’s face lifted, his toothy smile spreading across his tan face as he went to stand, but you glared him back down. The box was full of the various sex toys Eijiro had bought you over the time you had been together, any variety of vibrator or dildo you could think of. You pulled out the red rubber dildo that he had bought you shortly after you started officially dating, the size the closest thing to his he could find. It was slightly smaller than your forearm, the sheer girth of it making your knees weak, but so did Eijiro’s. You set the box back in the closet, tossing the dildo onto the bed and unbuttoning your shorts, sliding them down your legs. “What?” Kirishima smiled, watching closely as you tugged your shirt off, then your panties. He was getting excited again, his cock twitching in his jeans as he began to slowly rub himself. “Wanna try two at once again? That could be fun…” He trailed off, nervous as you left him unanswered and climbed onto the bed. 

You sat back against the headboard, Eijiro leaning forward to pursue you but you were quick to push him back, leaning him against the end of the bed opposite of you. You reached down, pulling his shirt off his head and unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his thick cock out and letting it sit. But Eijiro’s face dropped when you sat back, leaving his cock unattended as you grabbed the dildo, confusion striking him. 

You spit on the dildo lewdly, Eijiro’s face twisting with arousal as you rubbed it, moving it down to press against your entrance. Finally, looking him in the eyes, you pressed the tip against your entrance, eyeing him down. “If you touch yourself, I stop.” His face dropped, confusion replacing the aroused face he just sported. His cock still twitched. “If you touch me, I stop.” You commanded, pressing your knees apart and letting him get a good view of the dildo slowly entering you. You hissed, the stretch of the rubber making your lips part, trying to keep your composure. You could see his panic as he realized what was happening, the desperation beginning to build. 

“[Y/N]...” He whined, fisting the mattress while you pressed the hilt of the dildo, pushing the girth inside and stretching nicely. It was nowhere near the real thing, you hated to admit, but watching his face in awe as you fucked yourself on it made it all worth it. When you finally bottomed out, you hissed, the fullness making your cunt tighten and clit throb. You stared Eijiro in the eyes, his panicked expression making you smile as you began to grind your hips against the red rubber toy, the squishing sound echoing lewdly. 

It didn’t take much before he was leaning forward, desperately glancing between your face and your cunt while he whined. It was odd, seeing him so vulnerable. Eijiro was usually always the one in control, the one commanding you and pushing your every movement. But now that he wasn’t able to get his hands on you, he sat pitifully, hands wrapped in the sheets and gripping tightly. “Feels… amazing…” You sighed, lifting your feet off the bed and hooking your hand under your knee, spreading your legs to get a better angle on the dildo. You turned your face into the pillow, grinning and moaning as you fucked yourself slowly and deeply with the toy, letting Eijiro get a full view as he groaned. “Please…” He panted, climbing to his knees and shoving his jeans off, letting his cock sit angry and red. The tip was already leaking, begging to be touched as it twitched. You shook your head, bringing your hand down to rub your clit softly. “Ah, ah… Gotta show you how to be gentle… Not so rough, ah, all the time…” You cooed, nudging the dildo deep against your walls and relishing in the slowness of it all. Eijiro was always rough and fast, searching to make you cum quick instead of making you feel good. He never took his time, it was always a race for some reason. But, in your opinion, the best orgasms were the ones that were drawn out, nice and slow. You had to teach him, whether he liked it or not.

Grinding your hips, you smiled, sweat dripping across your brow as Eijiro sat between your open legs, staring hungrily. “See how I’m going slow? Taking my time? Ah- It feels so good, Eiji.” He glanced into your heavy eyes, pleading desperately as he ran his hands through his hair, gripping the spikes tightly as his chest heaved. He was flushed all over, skin hot to the touch as his cock squirmed, angrily twitching. 

The sight was all too much, his desperation making you moan loudly. Your walls clamped on the toy, fingers pressing deep against your clit as you came, arching your back as you pushed the toy flush inside you. Your lips hung open, loud moans and gasps falling as Eijiro gritted, his sharp teeth glinting. 

You couldn’t help yourself when you slid the toy out, the rubber glistening with your pleasure as you tossed it on the bed, running your fingers through your soaked folds. Eijiro watched hungrily, eyes burning into you as you still rubbed your clit, eyes heavy. “Now, can you-” 

“Yes, God, please, yes.” He spat out quickly, leaning forward expectantly. You grinned, spreading your legs wider as he nudged between them. “Then eat me out first.” You giggled, spreading your folds with your fingers and rubbing the slick against them. Eijiro was taken back, face slightly annoyed as he sat back, cock still angry. Reluctantly, he laid down, face first with your soaked cunt as he slid his arms around your thighs, digging his nails in tightly. “And be gentle.” You commanded, wrapping your arms around the pillow behind you. Eijiro nodded, eyebrows knitted as he leaned in, licking a thick stripe up. 

You sighed heavily, knees relaxing against his arms as he probed his tongue against your entrance, lapping at your pleasure. He was groaning, hips grinding down against the mattress as he lapped you up, eager to please you. He was already going too fast for your liking, so instead of just taking it, you slid your hands through his spiked hair, gripping hard until he hissed, pulling back. “I said gently.” You grumbled, letting his hair go as he swore, but dove back in nonetheless. This pace was much better, his tongue focused more on pressing deep and up instead of lapping quickly. It made you louder, your moans more sing-songy as he gripped your thighs, your hips moving in time with his eager tongue. 

Before you knew it you were squirming, fingers clamped around your nipples as Eijiro ate you out so wonderfully. His tongue curled up, pressing against your velvet walls and moaning at how sweet you tasted. He was so into it, so inclined to make you feel good he couldn’t hear you as you told him to slow down or begged him to be gentle. You pressed back, back arching as you tried to slide away, but his strong arms just held you so closely, ignoring any pleas you had. This is how it normally went, Eijiro’s brute strength approach to sex overriding any fuzzy urges you wanted to fulfill. So as you clamped around his tongue, crying into the back of your hand as you came, you were pushing him away. Eijiro wiped the slick from his mouth, smiling before he saw your angry face, sitting back. “Babe-”

You shoved his shoulders back, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips. His cock twitched against your ass, the still untouched head was red and angry. You crossed your arms as you towered over him, slick cunt pressed down against his abdomen. “If you can’t do what I say, then I’m just gonna have to do it myself.” You snarled, lifting your hips and gripping his cock, a sharp hiss leaving his lips as you nudged it against your entrance. “And don’t even think about touching me.” 

Eijiro gritted his teeth, hands fisting the sheets as you nudged his cock inside of you, the stretch a little easier from the dildo. You moaned, the length twitching inside of you until you bottomed out, sighing at the fullness. His skin was hot under you, his hips trying desperately to buck up but you stayed down, forcing his stillness. Only when you decided to begin grinding, did you. You placed your hands against his chest, angling your hips down as you rode him slowly, relishing in the way the fullness wasn’t jabbing into you for once. “Fuck, babe…” Eijiro whined, fingers gripping tightly as his hips begged to move. You smiled lazily, clit throbbing as you ground down, his head pressing against your fucked-out walls. You were so sensitive, but that was what made it feel so good. You whined, bottom lip slipping between your teeth and chewing. You lifted your hips slowly, pulling the length out of you before sinking back down the same, all at your own pace. Eijiro was a whining mess, every other sound a quiet beg to let him touch you or even more his hips. His feet were sliding behind you, pressing down against the mattress until you felt like he was going to break it.

You sat back, hands gripping his knees as you slid up his length, sighing at the way it tugged against your cunt. “Gotta show you how to fuck properly.” You grinned, nudging your hips up and down slowly as you began to ride him better. You were already getting exhausted, your body worn out from the previous orgasms wrecking your cunt. You stared Eijiro in his flushed face, brows knitted and teeth gritted as he tried his best not to move, not to disappoint you. 

“Eiji.” You sighed, grinding your hips down. He perked up, eyes shooting to yours as he whined. “Do you think, ah… Think you can be good now and go slow?” He nodded frantically, shooting his hands to your hips and gripping down hard. “Yes, yes, please… Fuck-” That’s all it took for you to lean forward, pressing your chest against his and pressing your lips against him. You both closed your eyes, Eijiro’s large hands running down to grip your ass, tugging the mounds apart as he began to slowly thrust up into you. “I’ll be good, I- ah, I will…” He mumbled as your head pressed into his shoulder, kissing gently. Your skin was hot against his, sweat dripping as he thrust lazily into you, more worried now about sinking deeper than going quick. You moaned loudly, cunt throbbing as he pressed against your walls, sensitivity rushing you. 

“So good, Eiji- So good…” You clung to him, strong arms wrapping tightly around you until you were moaning loudly, cumming hard around his girth. Eijiro cursed loudly, pressing his face against your shoulder as he sunk deep, walls clenching tightly around him. He didn’t have time to pull out, his orgasm already racking him as he buried inside and came hard. He painted your sensitive walls, filling you wonderfully before sliding out. You groaned at the way his seed leaked between your folds, the warmth making you shudder.

Holding you close, Eijiro panted, you still catching your breath as he wiped your hair from your sweaty forehead. “I’m sorry…” He grunted, kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll get you a plan b… and flowers, for being such a douche.” 

You giggled, nudging your face against his neck and smiling, face still hot against his skin. 

“I forgive you. But please, no more of that in front of our friends.” 

Eijiro laughed, rubbing you back as he apologized some more. But how could you stay mad at a boyfriend as sweet as him?

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[baelabong]

ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ

ʀɪᴄʜɢɪʀʟ! ʏ/ɴ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱʙꜱꜰʀ!ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ

Plot: Y/N lives a life of luxury, lounging by the pool in her mansion, completely at ease. But when her sister’s best friend, Karina, shows up, everything changes. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act like the perfect spoiled princess, she finds herself struggling with feelings she doesn’t want to admit.

Warnings: no, fluff, lowkey angst, y/ns a bitch lowkey

wc/rq: 7.5 k words/no, i was just watching clueless again Notes: guys pls teach me ho tochange the colour of the text in tumblr also this took me FIVE DAYS OMG

it’s another perfect day as you lounge around your mansion, well…. your dads but whatever, and you’re in your element. lounging by the pool is practically a full-time job for you, and honestly? no one does it better. your designer sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your iced drink sits on the little table next to you, condensation sliding down the glass, while your phone is buzzing nonstop with notifications. friends asking about plans, people wanting your attention—it’s exhausting, really. but you couldn’t care less at the moment. the world is yours, and you’re revelling in it.

you stretch out on your lounger, flipping through your phone without much interest, skimming texts, and rolling your eyes at half of them. you don’t feel like replying. it’s one of those lazy afternoons where you can just exist in your little bubble, and everything is going your way.

until you hear her voice.

karina.

the sound of her laughing from inside the house catches you completely off guard, and suddenly your perfect little world feels a bit too small. her voice cuts through the air, light and casual, like she owns the place—and you already know she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter, looking effortlessly cool, as she does. 

god, she’s so irritating.

you sit up a bit, tugging your sunglasses down your nose, the slightest frown creasing your brow. you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, that annoying little skip your heart does whenever you know she’s nearby. it’s stupid, really. she’s your sister’s best friend. she’s here for her, not for you. but for some reason, your body never seems to get that memo. 

you roll your eyes at yourself, huffing as you grab your phone again, pretending to be engrossed in something important. but it’s useless. you scroll without really looking, your mind racing ahead of itself. the thought of karina, her presence this close, makes your skin tingle in the most frustrating way. it’s like she invades your space, even when she’s not physically next to you.

snap out of it, y/n, you think, shaking your head. but the moment’s already ruined, and lounging by the pool doesn’t feel as serene as it did five minutes ago. 

you sigh dramatically, slipping your sunglasses back up and fixing your hair, running your fingers through it like you’re preparing for battle. because, honestly, that’s what it feels like whenever karina’s around—a constant need to look your best, act your best, even though she’s never actually paying attention to you. at least, not in the way you wish she would.

so you push yourself up, deciding it’s better to face whatever weird feelings are bubbling up rather than sitting here, stewing in your own frustration. you stand and slip on your sandals, adjusting your swimsuit just so—because even if you’re annoyed, you’re still going to look flawless. that’s just who you are.

as you stroll into the house, your head held high, your heart’s racing, but you force yourself to look as unbothered as possible. you walk with purpose, sunglasses still on, acting like nothing could possibly faze you.

and then you see her.

karina’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cropped top showing just enough of her toned waist to make your throat go dry. her jeans hug her in all the right places, and her dark hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, making her look like she just stepped out of a photoshoot without even trying. of course she looks that good. she always does.

and what’s worse? she’s laughing at something your sister just said, completely relaxed, as if the world hasn’t just tilted on its axis now that you’ve entered the room. ugh.

you can feel your stomach flip, but you swallow it down, refusing to let it show. you are y/n, after all. you’re always in control.

"y/n, finally. we’re going shopping," your sister, ningning announces, not even bothering to look up from her phone. she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if she hasn’t dragged you along on three separate shopping trips already this week.

you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure everyone in the room feels it. shopping? again? it’s like your sister has no sense of boundaries, always assuming you’ll drop everything to go out with her. you love her, obviously, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it. 

"ugh, shopping? again?" you groan, exaggerating every syllable. you throw yourself into your usual bratty mode because it’s easy, it’s safe. and more than that—it’s your way of keeping karina at arm’s length. you know if you act like a spoiled little princess, you can keep the attention off how much she messes with your head.

karina glances at you, and you can feel her eyes on you before you even meet them. when you finally do, she’s got that smile on her lips—that tiny, knowing smile that drives you insane. like she can see right through you. like she knows exactly why you’re acting this way. 

god, she’s so frustrating.

"you’re coming whether you like it or not," your sister chirps, still absorbed in whatever text she’s typing, oblivious to the tension bubbling under the surface.

you huff, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sharp toss. "fine. but we better not spend all day in some tacky boutique."

you strut past karina, making sure to give her the cold shoulder as you do, acting like her presence doesn’t bother you in the slightest. like the fact that you’ll be stuck with her for the next few hours isn’t making your brain short-circuit. you feel her eyes linger on you as you walk away, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and meet them again. 

you know what she’s thinking—that you’re being a brat, like usual. that you’re throwing a tantrum because things aren’t going your way. and maybe she’s right.

the drive to the shops feels like it drags on forever, but you manage to keep your cool. you’re in the backseat, legs crossed, uour white crop top hugs you perfectly, and your leather skirt shows just enough skin to catch attention without begging for it. it's the kind of look that makes you feel in control, like the world bends to you.

your phone buzzes again, and you glance at it with a small smile. some boy you barely care about has been texting you for days, throwing compliments like they’re going out of style. he’s sweet, but he’s not who’s really on your mind. you’re only half paying attention to the conversation, lazily scrolling through his messages, while your eyes flick towards the front of the car.

karina’s sitting there, chatting with your sister, her voice low and calm, like she has all the time in the world. she laughs at something your sister says, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart skip for a moment—annoyingly effortless, just like the rest of her. her dark hair is pulled back, showing off that ridiculously sharp jawline, and she’s dressed in this casual, almost too-perfect outfit that only adds to her coolness. you hate how much it affects you, but you’d never show it.

instead, you lean back, subtly watching her from behind your sunglasses, acting like you’re completely disinterested. every now and then, you catch her looking at you through the rear-view mirror, her gaze flickering over you just long enough for you to notice. she’s not obvious about it, but you know. she’s watching you, and it sends a little thrill through your veins, though you’d never admit that either.

as the car slows to a stop at the shopping centre, you apply a quick swipe of lip gloss, making sure your lips are shiny and perfect. you don’t even look at karina when you do it, but you know she’s paying attention. her gaze lingers again, longer this time, before she quickly looks away, focusing back on whatever your sister is babbling about.

you step out of the car with a smooth, practised ease, swinging your small designer bag over your shoulder as your sister immediately grabs your arm and pulls you into the first boutique she sees. you roll your eyes, but follow her, because it’s easier than making a fuss.

inside the shop, your sister flits around like a kid in a candy store, grabbing clothes left and right, already talking a mile a minute about some guy she’s obsessed with. you’re only half listening, the same way you do with the boy who’s been texting you. instead, your attention keeps drifting back to karina, who’s moving between racks with her usual calm and collected grace.

you can’t help but watch her, even when you pretend you’re not. everything about her is so annoyingly perfect. you find yourself bristling at it, at how unbothered she looks, while you’re stuck in your head, trying not to let her get to you.

as if on autopilot, you grab a bright pink dress from a nearby rack and hold it up, not even thinking about it. it’s not your style at all—too loud, too flashy, too... obvious. but you’re not really shopping for yourself at this moment. you’re trying to pull karina’s focus, to force her to engage with you, to get her to stop being so damn aloof.

"what do you think of this?" you ask, holding the dress up in front of her, your tone casual, like you couldn’t care less what she says. but your heart is already beating a little faster, and you hate that she has this effect on you. 

karina looks up, her eyes flicking to the dress, then to you. she takes a moment, her lips curling into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "it’s cute," she says with that maddening calmness. "but... i think you’d look better in something less... obvious."

you blink, momentarily thrown off. "less obvious?" you scoff, tossing the dress back on the rack with a little more force than necessary. "i think i know what works for me."

"i’m sure you do," karina replies, moving to the next rack like your little outburst didn’t even faze her. she’s so damn unbothered, and it’s infuriating. 

you huff, crossing your arms, watching as she walks ahead. she’s already browsing something else, her attention completely shifted away from you, leaving you stewing in your own frustration. who does she think she is, telling you what looks good on you? it’s not like she’s some kind of fashion expert. she’s just... karina. your sister’s best friend. and yet, here you are, letting her opinion mess with your head. 

deep down, you know you’re overreacting. it’s not really about the dress. it’s about how karina makes you feel, like she’s always two steps ahead, always so calm and cool, while you’re over here, constantly putting on a show. and the worst part? you care what she thinks. way too much. 

you glance at her again, catching the way she moves, so confident, so sure of herself. and for just a moment, you wish you could be that unbothered. but then, you shake the thought away, smoothing down your outfit as if it’ll somehow fix the mess in your head.

"ugh, whatever," you mutter under your breath, striding past her like you’re completely over it. but even as you move to the next rack, you can feel her eyes on you, and it makes your heart race all over again.

you move to the next rack, pretending to focus on a row of dresses that all blur together in your head. your sister is off somewhere, chattering away to some salesgirl, and you’re left alone in this silent tension with karina. you know she’s watching you, even if she’s not making it obvious. but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking back. not yet.

after a few more minutes of awkward browsing, your sister finally appears, holding up two completely over-the-top outfits. “which one do you think i should get? i have a party this weekend, and i need to look amazing,” she says, thrusting the clothes at you and karina for judgement.

you raise an eyebrow, barely glancing at the dresses. “does it really matter? you’ll look fine in anything,” you say, a little dismissively, still annoyed at the whole situation. 

karina, on the other hand, takes the time to actually consider the options, glancing from one dress to the other with her signature calm. “i like the red one. it’s bold,” she says, giving your sister a genuine smile.

and just like that, your sister beams at karina, completely smitten with her opinion. “ugh, i knew you’d get it!” she squeals, already grabbing the red dress and skipping off to try it on, leaving the two of you alone again.

you roll your eyes at the whole interaction, crossing your arms as you turn back to the rack. “she acts like she’s going to prom or something. it’s just a party,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite in your voice. you’re more distracted by how casual karina is, how her attention shifts so easily from one thing to the next, while you’re stuck here, hyper aware of every little thing she does.

and then, out of nowhere, she’s beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “you didn’t answer me earlier,” she says softly, her voice low enough that it makes your skin tingle. 

you glance up at her, confused. “about what?”

“about why you’re really upset. it’s not the shopping, is it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying your face with those dark eyes that seem to see through you.

your stomach flips, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say. because she’s right. it’s not the shopping. it’s not even the dress. it’s... her. the way she gets under your skin, the way she knows how to push your buttons without even trying.

you bristle, putting up your usual front. “i’m not upset,” you say, but your voice wavers slightly. “and i’m definitely not interested in whatever psychoanalysis you’re trying to pull.”

karina’s lips curl into that infuriating smirk again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. “sure, y/n. whatever you say.”

and with that, she steps away, her attention shifting back to the clothes, leaving you standing there, heart racing, your mind spinning. you hate how easily she can mess with you. how, with just a few words, she can throw your whole mood off balance.

you let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a random dress from the rack and heading toward the fitting rooms. you need a minute to collect yourself, to get away from karina’s stupidly perfect calmness, and figure out why she’s making you feel so rattled.

but as you walk away, you can feel her eyes on you again. watching, waiting. and it only makes your pulse quicken even more.

as you step out of the fitting room, tugging at the hem of the shirt you just tried on, your sister's voice cuts through the air. “you should just tell her how you feel, y/n!”

your eyes widen, and you freeze on the spot, glaring at your sister as if that would make her shut up. she says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. what the hell is she thinking, dropping that in front of karina?

you sneak a glance at karina, who’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. she’s leaning against the wall, her black leather jacket making her look effortlessly cool as usual. her expression doesn’t give much away, but there’s a small quirk of her eyebrow that tells you she’s definitely heard what your sister just said.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you snap, rolling your eyes and giving your sister a hard shove. “you sound ridiculous.”

your sister just shrugs, clearly not picking up on the tension between you and karina. “i’m just saying! it’s obvious.”

you scoff, crossing your arms and glancing at karina again, trying to read her. her jaw is clenched, and she’s staring right at you, not saying a word, but that stupid smirk she always has is creeping up.

“let’s just go. i’m hungry,” you mutter, eager to change the subject. you brush past your sister and head toward the exit, not even waiting for karina to follow. but of course, she does, her boots thudding against the floor behind you.

outside the store, you try to ignore how close she’s walking next to you, her presence making you feel both irritated and flustered at the same time. why does she have to be so... calm? like she knows something you don’t.

“you’re acting real bratty today,” karina finally says, her deep voice low, like she’s amused by your attitude.

you stop in your tracks and glare at her. “i’m not acting bratty. i’m just not in the mood for this,” you snap back, refusing to let her get under your skin any more than she already has.

karina’s smirk grows wider, and she steps closer, towering over you just enough to make your breath catch. she reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly, like she’s teasing you. “sure, whatever you say, princess.”

your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and frustration. “don’t call me that,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you want it to have.

karina just chuckles, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she keeps walking, clearly unfazed by your attitude. you bite your lip, feeling even more annoyed that she’s so good at getting a reaction out of you.

by the time you all pile into the car to head home, the tension between you and karina is palpable. you slide into the backseat, crossing your arms and staring out the window, pretending like you’re not bothered by her.

but every now and then, you catch her eyes flicking to you through the rearview mirror. she doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her watching you, and it drives you insane.

later that day, while you're lounging on your bed, phone in hand, you scroll through your social media feed without much thought, until a particular post makes you stop. it's from the new girl at school—a blonde who's been turning heads since she arrived. what catches your eye, though, is the company she’s keeping. in a series of photos, she’s with karina. they're both laughing, standing way too close, and sharing what looks like an inside joke. karina’s usual cool demeanour is softened, and it rubs you the wrong way. 

your stomach churns as you swipe through more pictures. the blonde has tagged karina in a couple of them. in one, their shoulders are pressed together, and in another, karina’s hand is casually resting on the back of her chair, almost possessively. the knot in your chest tightens, and you toss your phone aside, sitting up as if that will shake the irritation building inside you.

why does she look so comfortable around her? you wonder, pacing your room as your thoughts spiral. you try to brush it off—karina’s popular, after all, people gravitate towards her. but this feels different. the thought of this girl spending more time with her than you makes your chest ache in a way that catches you off guard. you hate that it's bothering you this much. i don’t even care that much... right? but deep down, you know that’s a lie.

the next day at school, the nagging jealousy follows you around like a shadow. during lunch, you find yourself sitting across from karina, your eyes scanning her face as she casually eats, scrolling through her phone like nothing's on her mind. but it’s all you can think about.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound casual as you speak up. “so… who’s that new girl? the blonde.” you fiddle with the fork in your hand, poking at your food without really eating.

karina glances up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “new girl?” she echoes, almost like she’s oblivious. she’s toying with you. you know she remembers.

you clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant as you add, “you two seemed pretty chummy on her post.”

karina’s lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “oh, her? she’s in my biology class. we worked on a project together. no big deal.”

“no big deal?” you echo, feigning indifference, but you can’t stop the edge from creeping into your voice. “she seems pretty into you.”

karina’s smirk only grows. “what? are you jealous?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “me? jealous? please. i just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

karina sets her phone down and leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, y/n.”

your cheeks flush instantly at her words, but you refuse to let her see how much she’s getting to you. “i’m not jealous,” you grumble, though even you can tell it sounds unconvincing. “i just don’t like the idea of you being so... friendly with random girls.”

karina tilts her head, her gaze softening slightly. “random girls? she’s just a friend, y/n. we worked on a project together, nothing more.” she sounds sincere, but her playful smirk never fully disappears. it’s like she’s reveling in how worked up you’re getting.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, playing with the edge of your sleeve, “she looked pretty cozy for ‘just a friend.’”

karina leans even closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “you know,” she says, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

your breath catches in your throat. you’re not used to karina being this direct. she’s always been confident, sure, but this—this teasing, almost predatory energy—is making your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“who said i wanted your attention?” you try to snap back, but your voice is quieter, weaker, and you can tell karina’s picking up on it.

karina leans back, her smirk widening as if she’s won some silent battle. “oh, trust me, y/n. i can tell.”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but you don’t argue further. the truth is, you *do* want her attention—have wanted it for a while now. but admitting that feels too much like giving her the upper hand, and you’re not about to hand that over so easily.

karina watches you for a moment, her eyes twinkling with amusement. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she’s enjoying every second of it. “don’t worry,” she says, voice softer but still teasing. “you don’t have to be jealous of anyone else. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the blush from creeping up your neck. “i’m not jealous,” you insist, but even you can hear how weak it sounds now.

karina just chuckles, shaking her head as she goes back to her phone, but not before giving you a knowing look that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“sure, y/n,” she murmurs. “sure.”

the sound of the door dings again, the cheery chime contrasting sharply with the heavy sigh you can’t help but let escape your lips as you settle back into your chair, stirring your iced latte without any real interest. the hum of the coffee shop, alive with the chatter of customers and the clinking of dishes, fades into a dull background noise as your attention drifts elsewhere. your sister, ningning, somehow managed to drag you into this little outing with her friends—definitely not the most thrilling way to spend your weekend. sure, the place is cute enough, but after an hour of listening to them ramble on about the latest trends and drama, you feel like you might just slip into a coma.

“thanks again for dragging me here, ning,” you mutter under your breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “really doing wonders for my social calendar.”

ningning, ever the optimist, just rolls her eyes playfully, busy laughing with her friends as they chat animatedly about something you couldn’t care less about. you zone out, drumming your fingers against the table as the door dings again, signalling yet another group of people entering. 

your gaze drifts lazily across the table to where karina is sitting, completely engrossed in conversation with the new girl—some blonde transfer student who’s been soaking up attention like it’s her job since she showed up. karina, for her part, seems to be enjoying it far too much. she leans in a little closer, her expression relaxed, laughing at something the blonde said. 

you can’t stop the eye roll that follows. typical. 

karina’s never like this around you, but here she is, laughing like she’s never had more fun in her life. you shift in your seat, your annoyance simmering as you watch the two of them. they’re sitting just a little too close, and karina’s smile is just a little too bright. you tap your fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for the conversation to shift back to something even remotely interesting, but no one else seems to notice the elephant in the room—you.

with every joke exchanged between them, your patience wears thinner, until you just can’t hold back anymore. the sarcasm slips out before you can stop yourself. 

“wow, karina,” you say, your voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “you and your new bestie seem to be having such a great time. should we give you two some space? maybe you’d prefer to continue this riveting conversation alone?”

the table falls silent instantly. ningning’s eyes widen, and the other girls glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to react. karina, though, barely blinks. she turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of her lips twitch as if she’s more amused than annoyed.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, her tone as casual as ever, like your little outburst barely registered. she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if to match your stance.

“my deal?” you echo, letting out a scoff as you lean forward, resting your chin in your hand. “oh, nothing. just admiring how fast you make friends. must be nice, really.”

karina’s eyes flicker with amusement as she glances between you and the blonde, who’s now awkwardly fiddling with her coffee cup. “oh, come on, y/n,” she says, her voice smooth, almost teasing. “are you really that bothered?”

you tilt your head, giving her a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “bothered? no, not at all. just enjoying the show.” you gesture loosely to the two of them, adding, “it’s like a cute little rom-com, right in front of me. really, I’m thrilled for you.”

karina narrows her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “you’re jealous,” she states plainly, not a question—more like she’s calling you out, the way she always does. and it infuriates you.

you scoff again, louder this time, and toss your hair over your shoulder with dramatic flair. “me? jealous? of that?” you glance at the blonde, who’s now clearly uncomfortable but doing her best to pretend she’s not. “please. I just think it’s cute, that’s all. watching you two pretend you’re starring in some hallmark movie.”

karina just chuckles, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixes you with an infuriatingly calm stare. “yeah? well, from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re the one starring in a soap opera. all that drama for nothing, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back slightly, but you can’t help the way your heart races as karina’s gaze stays locked on yours. she’s always been able to get under your skin, and you hate it. hate how she can stay so calm and collected while you’re practically fuming.

“right. because you know me so well,” you fire back, crossing your arms again, this time more defensively.

karina shrugs, that lazy smirk still on her lips. “i do know you,” she says, her tone annoyingly confident. “better than you think.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap again. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right. the truth is, you are jealous. but admitting that would feel like handing her a win, and you’re not about to do that.

before you can come up with a witty retort, karina glances over at the blonde, who’s now pretending to check her phone. “look, y/n, we’re just talking. it’s really not that deep.”

“right,” you say, drawing out the word. “just talking. and all that laughing and flirting? just casual, right?”

karina chuckles, shaking her head slightly. “flirting? really, y/n?” she leans forward a little more, her voice dropping, making your pulse quicken. “if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as her words hang in the air between you. she’s toying with you, and you hate how easily she can make your heart skip a beat. 

“oh, please,” you finally manage, but your voice is a little quieter now, a little less confident. “you’re full of it.”

karina’s smirk only widens. “maybe,” she admits, leaning back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. “but it’s fun watching you get all worked up.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but nothing comes out. you’re too caught off guard by how effortlessly she’s turned the tables on you.

arriving back at the estate, you rush off the jeep, leaving ningning in the driver’s seat, and stomp towards your room, heart thudding in your chest. your heels click angrily against the marble floor, and the second you reach your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the plush pillows. a muffled scream escapes your lips as you let out all the pent-up frustration.

how dare she? how could karina just... dismiss your feelings like that, in front of everyone, no less? it’s not like you even wanted her attention in the first place—at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time. but seeing her with the blonde girl, laughing and leaning in like that, had struck a nerve you didn’t know was so raw.

you flip over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you replay the entire café scene over in your head. "if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it." you mocked the girl in a baby voice

god, why did she have to say that? why did she have to be so smug about it? it’s infuriating how easily she gets under your skin, how she knows exactly which buttons to press.

staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in your head like a bad movie. karina had been laughing, smiling, totally caught up in her conversation with the blonde—leaning in, listening like whatever that girl had to say was the most interesting thing in the world. it was infuriating. 

she never paid attention to you like that. at least, not lately.

you grab a pillow and smother your face with it, trying to block out the feelings that have been gnawing at you ever since you stormed off and practically slammed your bedroom door behind you. karina had a way of getting under your skin, but today? today, it had hit differently. you weren’t just annoyed—you were jealous. though admitting that, even to yourself, felt like swallowing glass.

your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and for a moment, you think about ignoring it. probably just ningning wondering where you went off to, or one of her friends in the group chat. but something nags at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for it.

karina’s name lights up your screen.

karina: open the door. i’m outside.

your heart skips a beat. you scramble out of bed, peeking through the curtains, and there she is. leaning against her car, hands shoved in her pockets, looking like she just stepped out of some cheesy rom-com.

you hesitate for a second, debating whether to leave her out there or actually let her in. your stubborn side screams to make her wait, but you know you can’t. not when she’s standing there like that, looking all casual and unbothered, the way she always does. 

with a huff, you stomp downstairs and swing open the door, crossing your arms defensively. “what are you doing here?”

karina glances up, her cool gaze locking onto yours as she pushes off the car and steps closer, hands still buried in her jacket pockets. “we need to talk.”

“talk about what? you had plenty to say earlier with your new bestie,” you snap, immediately feeling childish, but unable to stop yourself.

karina doesn’t flinch. instead, she steps up onto the porch, her tall frame making her presence even more commanding. “y/n, cut the crap. you’ve been acting weird all day. i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lie, turning your back to her, but you don’t close the door. “i just don’t want to deal with it.”

“deal with what?” she presses, her voice dropping lower, firmer, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “you were practically fuming back there. don’t act like everything’s fine.”

you bite your lip, annoyed that she can see through you so easily. “i said it’s nothing, karina. you’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“y/n, stop,” she says, her tone now leaving no room for argument. she steps inside, her boots making soft thuds on the hardwood as she closes the door behind her. “tell me what’s really going on.”

you glare at her, your defences still up, but you can’t help feeling cornered. her calm, unwavering stare makes your heart race, and you hate how easily she can unsettle you. 

“fine,” you snap, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “you wanna know? you ignored me all day for that blonde, and it pissed me off. happy now?”

karina raises an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she steps even closer. “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous?”

you scoff, turning away from her. “no, i’m not jealous,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe your own words. “i just... i don’t get why you were all over her. it was annoying.”

“i wasn’t all over her,” she says, her voice calm but firm as she steps around to face you again. “we were just talking.”

“right,” you mumble, still refusing to meet her eyes. “just talking. whatever.”

karina sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “y/n, why won’t you just admit it? you’re upset because you like me.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze. her words hang in the air between you, and for a second, you wonder if you heard her wrong.

“what?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina steps closer, her hand lifting to gently tilt your chin up so you’re forced to look at her. her dark eyes are intense, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk on her lips. she looks serious—dead serious. “you heard me.”

your heart pounds in your chest as her fingers brush against your jaw, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. this is not how you expected the conversation to go. you try to come up with a retort, something sarcastic to throw back at her, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“karina, i...” you start, but the words die on your lips.

she’s so close now, her presence almost overwhelming as she looks down at you, waiting for your response. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“you don’t have to say anything,” karina says softly, her hand sliding down from your chin to rest on your shoulder, grounding you. “but you need to stop pretending. i know how you feel. i’ve known for a while.”

you blink up at her, stunned. “what?”

karina smiles, just a little, but it’s softer than her usual smirk. “i’m not blind, y/n. and i’m not stupid. you’ve been acting like this for months.”

“acting like what?” you ask, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“like you’re trying to push me away,” she says, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, feeling tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “i’m not trying to push you away,” you mumble. “i just... i don’t know how to deal with this.”

karina sighs softly, stepping even closer so there’s barely any space between the two of you. “then let me help you deal with it,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“i don’t want to seem needy,” you mutter, still refusing to look her in the eye.

karina lets out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “you’re not needy. you’re just... you. and that’s enough.”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble bit by bit. her touch is so gentle, so warm, and it makes your heart ache in a way that scares you. “yeah, well... maybe i didn’t want to be needy.”

karina’s lips curve into a smirk, but it’s full of affection rather than amusement. “you’re not needy. but even if you were, i wouldn’t care.”

you scoff lightly, but the sound comes out weaker than you intend. “you say that now...”

“i mean it,” she says, her voice low as she leans in slightly. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time.”

your breath catches again, and this time, you can’t hide the way your pulse quickens. “what?”

karina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “god, you’re so dense sometimes,” she teases, though her tone is filled with fondness. “i’m saying i like you. more than just friends. more than anything else.”

you stare at her, your mind racing to catch up with what she’s just said. “you... like me?”

karina nods, her expression softening as she leans in closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. “yeah, y/n. i like you. so stop pushing me away, okay?”

you blink rapidly, trying to process everything. your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “but... what about that blonde?”

karina pulls back slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “the blonde? you seriously think i’d be interested in her?”

“i don’t know!” you blurt out, feeling flustered. “you seemed pretty into her.”

karina laughs, shaking her head. “god, y/n, you’re something else.” she cups your face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “i was just being polite. i didn’t even remember her name half the time.”

you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your own jealousy. “oh.”

karina chuckles softly, her gaze softening as she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to worry about anyone else,” she murmurs against your skin. “you’re the one i want. always have been.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness flood through you. “you mean that?”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble just a little more. without thinking, you lean in, pressing your forehead against her chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “ugh, why do you have to be so nice to me?”

karina just laughs softly, running her fingers through your hair. “because someone has to take care of you,” she teases, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a brat sometimes.”

you scoff, but the warmth in her voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “i’m not a brat. you just make me act like one.”

“oh, i make you act like that?” she teases again, her voice full of affection as she hugs you tighter. “come on, let’s go inside before ningning sees us and starts asking questions.”

with a reluctant nod, you let her guide you back into the house, her arm draped protectively over your shoulders as the two of you walk upstairs together. the frustration and jealousy from earlier seem to melt away with every step, and by the time you reach your room, you feel lighter, like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to let someone in, to let someone take care of you for once.

the days after karina’s confession are a blur of stolen glances, secret smiles, and moments that feel like something out of a dream. you still can’t quite believe it, but here you are—walking through the school hallways with karina’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, her presence as grounding as it is exciting. 

and it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

whispers follow you both as you navigate the halls, and it’s not hard to tell what everyone’s talking about. the once-rumored, now-confirmed it couple—you and karina. some people stare in disbelief, others in envy, but you don’t care. karina, as always, seems unfazed, her usual calm, confident demeanor only heightened when she’s with you.

you find yourself tucked under her arm more often than not, her protective hold over you almost possessive but in a way that makes your heart flutter. she’s always close—walking you to class, waiting by your locker, her eyes softening whenever they land on you.

at lunch, you sit with ningning and the others, but now it’s different. karina’s hand rests casually on your thigh under the table, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin as she chats with the group. ningning teases you endlessly, of course, but even she can’t deny that you and karina just fit.

"you two are disgusting," ningning jokes, rolling her eyes when she catches karina whisper something in your ear that makes you giggle. "i can’t believe my best friend and my sister are the couple of the year."

karina just smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “get used to it,” she says simply, and you can’t help but blush.

the entire school knows about you now—karina’s arm around you is proof enough—but neither of you care. as long as she’s by your side, you don’t mind the attention.

[i-dared-myself]

Presenting for You

Seonghwa x reader x Hongjoong

In which the new addition to the household grows on you, and your owner fails to notice in time.

I’ve always felt that hybrid stuff is like a rite of passage on Tumblr. So here I am.

18+

Cw: Hybrid au, Seonghwa cat, reader is bunny. Smut. Seonghwa is kinda mean, but reader’s into it. Breeding kink for like a single line, exchanging of bodily fluids (ok that sounds not sexy), degrading (calling people sluts), Seonghwa cries during sex.

Stupid cats ruin everything. You don’t understand why anyone likes them. All they do is sleep.

Plus, they’re so mean!

You’re a normal hybrid. Bunny, adorable, and maybe a little horny. But that’s only between you and your owner, Hongjoong.

And not the stupid cat.

When Hongjoong brings the cat home, you are horrified. Because now there’s an intruder in your house, and why does he look so smug.

“Ah, you’ll get along eventually.” Hongjoong smiles at you, still holding onto the dumb cat hybrid. “Seonghwa, why don’t you go say hi?”

Seonghwa turns his face to you, slitted pupils locking on your face. You hate that he’s pretty.

“I don’t want a cat!” you complain again, tugging on Hongjoong’s sleeve. “They’re annoying! And they hunt bunnies, by the way!”

“Aw, but Seonghwa’s a nice kitty.” Hongjoong ruffles the other hybrid’s hair affectionately, and he leans into the touch. “He won’t hurt you.”

You cross your arms defiantly, glaring at Hongjoong. “You don’t know that! You barely even know him!”

“Hush,” Hongjoong scolds. He puts Seonghwa down, who grumbles something out. “Now I’m going to start making dinner, so you two can bond. Be friends, okay?”

You huff, but nod. You’ll try to befriend him, but you’re not making any promises.

You face Seonghwa again, so find him splayed out on the couch. He’s staring at you with those weird eyes of his, and you feel freaked out.

“Aren’t bunnies supposed to be scared of everything?” Seonghwa eventually says, breaking the silence. He stretches out on his stomach, placing his chin in the palm of his hand. 

You already despise him. “Why would I be scared of you? You’re a pussy; literally.”

His eyes narrow, somehow making the effect of them scarier. He gets to his feet and slinks over to you, standing at his full height. “Hongjoong wants us to be friends, and you’re being pretty rude.”

“Well-“ You’re flustered with him this close to you, because his lips are a gorgeous shade of pink. Also they look so soft. “Cats aren’t even that scary! They’re just annoying!”

Seonghwa’s hand shoots out and wraps around your neck. He shoves you up against the wall, body pressed against yours. “Careful. I don’t take disrespect.”

You kick out and hit him on the shins, and he grunts, his grip momentarily loosening. “Hongjoong! Hongjoong! The cat is-“

Seonghwa cuts you off by placing his hand over your mouth, snarling quietly. “You little-“

Hongjoong returns, wiping his hands on a towel. “What’s going on?”

Seonghwa forces your head in the other direction, so that Hongjoong can’t see his hand clasped over your mouth. He nuzzles into your neck, and you feel his smirk against your skin as Hongjoong coos.

“You two are so cute,” Hongjoong says, clearly pleased with himself for getting the damn cat. “Already scenting each other.”

You struggle to try and tell him that it’s not scenting going on right now. That the fucking cat is hurting you because he’s sadistic and you hate him. You hate this and you hate Hongjoong for doing this to you.

Okay, maybe you don’t hate Hongjoong, but still…

“Why don’t you come for dinner,” Hongjoong suggests, grinning at you and Seonghwa. “Aw, I can’t get over how adorable you are together.”

As soon as Hongjoong’s back in the kitchen, Seonghwa releases your head. He takes a step back to study you before saying, “Are you going to tell him? Because I thought we were playing so nicely.”

You swallow thickly and rub at your throat, glowering at him furiously. “We weren’t playing nicely. You were hurting me! And I’m going to tell Hongjoong.”

“Will you?” Seonghwa arches an eyebrow and sighs heavily. “Oh, well then we won’t get to actually play. And I know a bunny like you loves to play, huh?”

Your thighs squeeze together before you can register the movement. “I- What do you mean?”

“Oh, you aren’t a horny little bunny?” Seonghwa laughs to himself, shaking his head. When you let out a whimper, he reaches out to cup your face. “Maybe we could play tonight, hmm? As long as you don’t tell Hongjoong.”

You slowly nod, relishing in the feeling of him tilting your chin up. You stare into his hooded gaze, licking your lips nervously.

Seonghwa grins widely, brimming of malicious and lustful intent. “Open up for me, okay? I’ll give you a little treat as a reward for not telling Hongjoong.”

You part your lips for him, shock shooting through you as he does the same. Two of his long fingers plunge into his own maw, and he lets out a moan as they hit the back of his throat. Your tongue is still out, waiting for whatever he has for you.

Then he burrows his two digits past your lips, smiling coyly. “Suck.”

You obey, eyes glazing over as you hollow your cheeks. The corner of Seonghwa’s lips curl up into a pleased expression as you work, stroking your skin with his thumb.

“Dinner!” Hongjoong calls, voice filled with impatience. Seonghwa pulls away from you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“If you don’t tell Hongjoong,” he sweetly says, “I’ll play with you later.”

You pad after him to the dining room, where Hongjoong is seated. He has three plates out already, covered in steaming meals. You both sit on either sides of him and dig into the food.

“You look…” Hongjoong cocks his head at you consideringly. His eyes flick to Seonghwa before back to your face. He lowers his voice so the cat hybrid can’t hear and whispers, “Is your heat coming?”

You shake your head and squirm in your chair. “N- No.”

Seonghwa hums lowly. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you finished eating?” Hongjoong asks you gently after a couple of minutes, having ignored Seonghwa’s question. When you say yes, he motions to the stairs. “Why don’t you go up to bed then, alright? Seonghwa and I will have a chat and I’ll be up after washing the dishes.”

You stand, your chair legs scraping across the hardwood. “Okay. Will you- You’ll come upstairs soon?”

“Of course. We can watch some tv together.” Hongjoong smiles warmly at you before his expression shifts into something firmer. “No touching yourself. I want to check if you’re going into heat, and I can’t do that if you start making yourself drip, now can I?”

“No,” you murmur, ducking your head. You trudge upstairs, feeling the weight of Seonghwa’s gaze on you. You throw yourself onto your bed with a pout.

It’s no fair that you can’t touch yourself. The stupid cat got you all worked up and now you’re stuck like this.

Needy and horny.

There’s a sharp rap on the door, and you grumpily say, “Come in.”

Seonghwa steps inside, hands folded neatly in front of him. “Hongjoong went out for business. He says sorry, but that he’ll be back before midnight.”

“Okay,” you mumble dejectedly into your pillows. And your owner isn’t even going to spend time with you tonight. 

But that means you could pleasure yourself…

“He told me to keep an eye on you,” Seonghwa says, cutting through your thoughts. His slitted pupils are focused on you. “So what do you want to do?”

“I want you to get out of my room.” You grip a pillow and toss it at him. It smacks him in the chest before thumping onto the ground.

Seonghwa laughs under his breath, perching himself on the edge of your bed. “But then how will I know what you’re doing with your pussy?”

“That’s- That’s none of your business,” you snap, suddenly flustered. You reach for a second pillow to hurl at him, but he grasps your wrist before you can.

“But it is my business,” Seonghwa smugly says. You can see the delight dancing in his eyes. “Remember what Hongjoong said? Or are you a dumb bunny who only wants cock?”

You attempt to slap him across the face, but he pins your arms down to the mattress. He straddles your chest and kisses the tip of your nose.

“That was naughty,” Seonghwa scolds. “Do you want me to tell our owner about your behaviour? Or should I just punish you myself? He did leave me in charge, after all.”

You sniffle. You would rather just be punished and not have to deal with Hongjoon’s disappointment. “Y- You do it.”

“Why are you stuttering?” Seonghwa taunts. “I thought you weren’t scared of me?”

You go limp, admitting defeat. “Just g- get it over with.”

“Very well.” Seonghwa lets you go and sits back on his haunches. “You know what would be fun? Showing Hongjoong what a slut you are. I bet you produce slick even when you aren’t in heat.”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Nuh-uh.”

“Really?” Seonghwa’s hands trail down your body. “Flip over for me.”

You roll onto your stomach, muttering under your breath at him. He seems to ignore your angry words, watching you carefully.

“Good,” Seonghwa praises, making heat rush to your face. He squeezes at your ass beneath your shorts. “I’m going to take these off now.” He peels them away from you, tsking when he discovers no underwear. “You really are a slut.”

“No!” you whine, fisting at the sheets. “Y- You’re just mean!”

Seonghwa drags a finger through your pussy, collecting your slick. “But you like that, don’t you? Otherwise why would you be this wet?”

“Hongjoong s-said not to touch!” you gasp out as he spreads your folds apart. You squirm again, and he lands a smack on your thigh. “M- Meanie!”

“He said that you couldn’t touch.” Seonghwa licks at his fingers, humming at the taste. “But I can.”

You push back into him, craving his fingers back in you. Maybe he’s not so bad… As long as he keeps making you feel like this.

“Alright, now time for your punishment.” Seonghwa suddenly shoves your thighs apart, causing you to fall off balance. Your face gets smushed further into the pillow and you try to sit up. But then his hand is between your shoulder blades, keeping you down.

“W- What are you going to do?” you anxiously ask, heat pooling in your stomach. You moan softly as the pressure increases and your head is wrenched upwards as he tugs on your hair.

Seonghwa doesn’t respond. He just pushes you off the bed and maneuvers your body so that your face is down and ass is up again. 

“This is presenting position,” Seonghwa softly says. “This is how you should greet me. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply, instantly rewarded by attention to your clit. He circles it with his thumb, using his other hand to stroke your hair.

“So if I come home, what should you be doing?” Seonghwa suddenly pinches your clit and you let out a strangled cry.

“T- This?” you try, hoping it’s the correct answer. You don’t think you can handle what happens if it’s wrong.

“That’s right,” Seonghwa purrs, sounding pleased. You’re so glad you made him happy. What could be better than this? “Hongjoong is taking me shopping tomorrow. When I come back, will you be like this?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, wanting more. You want him touching you more, and you want everything he has to give you.

“Good.” Seonghwa rolls to his feet elegantly, wrinkling his nose at his wet and sticky fingers. “Come here, bunny.”

You shuffle closer on your knees, upset and confused. Why is he stopping? And without giving you an orgasm or anything of the like!

Seonghwa thumbs at your bottom lip, mouth curving into a cruel smile. “Open.”

You listen as do as he says, whimpering when he chokes you on his fingers. You can feel tears prick at your eyes as you gag, looking up at him pleadingly.

Seonghwa pats your cheek condescendingly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t touch yourself, and if you do well I’ll be nice when we play.”

He walks out of your room, leaving you alone and dripping with slick. You have a strong urge to just get yourself off, but you have a sinking suspicion that he would know.

Stupid cats.

“Are you awake?” Hongjoong peers into your room, brightening when he sees you. “Oh, I’m sorry for being late. I just had to talk to Seonghwa to make sure he was settling in, and then I made him a bed. Now can I check you for your heat?”

“But- But Seonghwa said-“ You fidget nervously. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “He said you would be out tonight.”

Hongjoong tilts his head, stepping into your room. “No, I just had to grab some sheets and blankets so he could sleep in a bed tonight.”

You cover your hands with your face, squeezing your thighs together. “He- I’m fine. Not in heat.”

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong worriedly asks. He reaches out to touch your forehead, humming to himself. “You don’t feel warm, but… You’re acting odd.”

You squirm a bit, unsure of what to do. Maybe Seonghwa would be really nice and let you cum tonight? Or maybe Hongjoong would…

Hongjoong cups you between the legs, tsking. “You feel wet, bunny. I’ll keep an eye on it, okay? Sometimes it catches you off guard.”

You rock into his hand, breath catching at the stimulation to your clit. He smiles softly, letting you slump against him.

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on you,” he says sweetly. “Do you need something right now?”

You force yourself to shake your head and push yourself off of him. You would rather take whatever it is Seonghwa has to offer.

“No?” Hongjoong asks in surprise. He retracts his hand, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You grab a pillow and hug it to your chest. “Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

He bids you goodnight in return before hesitantly walking out of your room. You are well aware that it’s strange for you to reject an orgasm, but you want Seonghwa. Seonghwa and his infuriatingly pretty eyes.

Huh. Maybe the eyes grew on you after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why don’t you pick a movie,” Hongjoong suggests to you. “San is bringing Wooyoung to hang out before I take a Seonghwa shopping later. I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen your friend.”

You perk up, while Seonghwa narrows his eyes.

“Who?” Seonghwa asks, voice laced with venom. 

Hongjoong crosses his legs, one over the other from where he’s sitting on the couch. “San and Wooyoung are friends of ours. Wooyoung is a bunny as well, and they’re close friends. I know you’ll get along with them.”

Seonghwa doesn’t seem happy with the explanation. He rises to a standing position, grumbling under his breath as he wanders off somewhere to sulk.

“I want to watch that movie with that actress.” You fiddle with the remote, looking through the streaming services Hongjoong has. “The new one.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Hongjoong says with fond exasperation. “What does she look like?”

“Brunette. Glasses and usually smokey makeup.” You find the movie you want. “Aha! See? Here it is.”

Hongjoong squints at the screen. “That movie isn’t new. It’s years old.”

You pout, rolling your eyes at him. “Whatever! It’s new to me!”

There’s a knock at the door, and you bounce over to open it. Wooyoung pushes inside to hug you, frowning instantly.

“Why does your house smell weird?” he demands, recoiling from you with disgust. “It’s…”

“They got another hybrid, remember?” San gently reminds him. “Be nice.”

Hongjoong chuckles, toying with your hair. “They’ve been playing so well. I think soon they might even be closer than she is with Wooyoung.”

“Obviously,” Seonghwa spits out, having reappeared at some point. You startle, and he wraps his arms around you from behind. “She’s mine. My… friend.”

“Aw,” San gushes, “that’s so cute.”

Wooyoung eyes you suspiciously, glancing to Seonghwa. “Um, should we watch the movie?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Hongjoong leads the way to the living room, where your chosen movie is cued up. “Although the couch might be a bit cramped.”

Seonghwa drapes himself at the end, snagging your wrist and tugging you to his lap. His arms latch around you again, pulling you plush to him. “Let’s watch the movie already.”

And so the film plays. You barely pay attention to it, too distracted by the feeling of Seonghwa’s hands on you. It’s innocent enough that it doesn’t draw attention, but he keeps nuzzling at your throat, effectively scenting you. You’re certain that you smell like him now, and the thought makes your stomach clench.

“Cuddle with me?” Wooyoung pleads to you, reaching out with his arms. San laughs and detaches you from the cat hybrid, passing you along.

Seonghwa glares at Wooyoung, teeth bared. “Hongjoong… Can we go shopping now?”

Hongjoong pauses the movie, raising his eyebrows. “Why? Can’t we finish this?”

“I want to go now,” Seonghwa declares. “I need some things still, and I don’t want to wait.”

Hongjoong sighs and looks to San and Wooyoung apologetically. “I guess we have to cut this short. Same time next week?”

“Of course. It takes time to settle in.” San goes to the door, glancing over his shoulder at Wooyoung. “Say goodbye to your friend.”

Before Wooyoung can do anything of the sort, Seonghwa is grabbing you. Your brain short-circuits when he grasps the nape of your neck, watching as Wooyoung and San leave.

Seonghwa soothingly rubs at where he had been holding, cooing softly. “Sorry, bunny, but it was time for him to go.”

“Look like we’re going shopping.” Hongjoong fishes his keys out from his pocket, and they make a jingling noise. “See you later, alright?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find yourself in Seonghwa’s room, in the position he had instructed you to wait for him in. You had been unsure of what to wear, but eventually settled on a dress of yours. Hongjoong always says how cute you look in it.

Your stomach has heat coiled tightly in it. The anticipation has been killing you all day, and you’re ready. You’re more than ready, actually, with how wet the inside of your thighs are.

You hear the slam of a door from downstairs, followed by the low murmuring of voices. Seonghwa and Hongjoong are home, and you’re growing impatient.

There are footsteps growing louder, and closer, until the door finally pushes open. You can’t see him, since your face is turned away and is pressed to the ground, which makes you nervous. Is he pleased? Are you doing this right?

“Look at you,” Seonghwa softly says, shutting the door. He traces his fingers up your legs and flips over the skirt to your dress. “And still no panties.”

You shift a bit, and he smacks you on your bare ass. “S- Seonghwa! Please!”

“And you’re begging so nicely.” You hear a rustling of fabric before Seonghwa’s body is draped over yours, hands planted on either side of your head. “What a pretty sight to come home to.”

You let out a cry as he pushes into you, stretching you so much. It’s so much and it’s so good. Your hands clutch for anything to grab hold of, and he laces his fingers through yours.

Seonghwa rests like that, not moving. He’s just filling you and letting you get used to the feeling. He squeezes your hands once, and you feel yourself clench around him.

It’s an intimate moment in such a strange scene, where you never could have seen yourself. Usually you try to be so good, and you know Hongjoong would be disappointed. 

“You did so good for me,” Seonghwa says as he slowly rocks into you. He hisses a bit under his breath as he finds his rhythm, flexing his fingers. “I- Ngh- I might want you waiting like this for me every time I go out. You could be my pet, and I would treat you so well.”

Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, nodding desperately. “A- Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Seonghwa thrusts harsher, making your grip on his hands tighten. “Would you let me fill you with my kittens? Breed you and day and night?”

“Want it,” you moan. “Want it all.”

“Now this is interesting play,” Hongjoong lowly comments, his voice breaking through everything.

Seonghwa is dragged off of you, glaring at Hongjoong as he’s held. You whimper and reach for the cat hybrid, pleading with Hongjoong to let you continue.

But Hongjoong tilts Seonghwa’s chin, directing his attention away from you. “Is that how we play nicely? Do you remember our little chat after dinner, when I told you not to pull a stunt like this?”

This is the first time you’ve seen Seonghwa look… Unsure. Scared, even.

Hongjoong glances to you, eyes narrowing. “Is this why you didn’t want me checking you? You’re not approaching your heat, you’re just a slut?”

“That’s what I said!” Seonghwa protests, only to be shoved to the floor. He whimpers as Hongjoong presses his knee to his cock, still slick with you. Seonghwa’s eyes glaze over and his tongue unfurls from his mouth, a needy whine falling from his lips.

“Play like this needs to be supervised,” Hongjoong chides, stepping back. He pulls a face at the desperate way Seonghwa tries to buck his hips upwards. “Bunny, why don’t you ride him?”

You eagerly sink down onto Seonghwa, gripping his shoulders. You rock your hips slowly before giving up on any method and just bouncing on him. 

Little hiccups keep escaping from Seonghwa as tears bubble at his eyes. He’s staring at Hongjoong, who’s watching the two of you with a light smile.

“S- Sorry,” Seonghwa breathes out, head tipping back in pleasure. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Didn’t- Hng-“

“Are you really sorry?” Hongjoong strokes your hair. “Bunny, do you think he’s sorry?”

You blink up at him, mouth open as you pant. “Uh, yes. He- He didn’t mean it.”

“Are you just too cute?” Hongjoong teases. “Too much to resist?”

Seonghwa twists to the side, trying to get away. He slurs out, “Gonna- Gonna cum. Don’t wanna-“

“Don’t want to what?” Hongjoong nudges Seonghwa’s back to you, and you roll your hips, falling over the cat hybrid’s chest. “Don’t want to cum? But wouldn’t it feel so good to do it inside her?”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows draw together, biting his lip. His cheeks are a dusty pink that makes you debate who’s cuter; you, or him?

Seonghwa’s response is limited to a whimper as his cock twitches inside you. “Closer- Gonna cum!”

Hongjoong tears him away from you, leaving you feeling empty. He grasps Seonghwa’s cock, applying enough pressure that Seonghwa cries with his orgasm. Tears drip down his face and he writhes with painful pleasure.

“The next time either of you decide to do something like this,” Hongjoong says, his voice breaking the sound of pants and quiet sobs, “I expect to be informed of it.”

“Wanna cum!” You tug at Hongjoong’s pants in a needy manner, batting your eyelashes. “It’s not fair that he got to!”

“Oh, but that was his punishment,” Hongjoong coos at you. “And yours is that you don’t get to.”

You stare at him, clutching the fabric of your skirt. He chuckles and lifts you to the bed, placing Seonghwa next to you. You both get wiped clean, and you’re frustrated with being denied.

But Hongjoong simply kisses your forehead before giving Seonghwa the same treatment. He flicks the light switch off, and Seonghwa curls closer to you, eyes groggy with sleep.

“Do you think Hongjoong would like it if we both waited at the door for him?” Seonghwa sleepily asks.

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