#jumping into light fierce

[clydemystik301]

Nostalgia

[cuppakouhii]

I read a post talking about Ru Paul and I fully misread it as "Ryu Paul" so now I'm just imagining Ryu from Street Fighter in drag

[izvmimi]

Katsuki handles you extremely gently for the most part, which is why when you find yourself at the tail end of play-wrestling in the midday on Saturday, wrists bound together in a firm, one-handed grasp and a leg locked against him at the hip, you’re a bit surprised. Your lips form into a soft ‘o’ as you let out a pant; conversely, his breathing is still, having not exerted very much effort, but you can practically feel his heart pound in his chest.

Or possibly it’s wishful thinking, given the way your own heart races.

Katsuki pauses for a moment, then dips in close, kissing your forehead.

“Had enough?” he asks.

“What if I said no?” you quip. In reply, his face buries in the crook of your neck and he snorts softly.

“Why don’t we make love, not war?” 

You’d admonish him on the cheesiness of the statement, but you don’t have the energy to. By now, Katsuki has relaxed his hold on your wrists and your leg, but you let your thighs and calves find new positioning wrapped around his waist as he lowers his weight onto you. He’s heavy, but it’s a familiar, comfortable heaviness that keeps you warm.

“Don’t like roughhousing with you,” he murmurs softly, still unmoving. Your bodies breathe in and out together, and you let yourself hold him even closer, hooking your left arm around his neck gently and running your right through his hair. 

Perhaps somewhere this is another form of a wrestling lock, but you’re decidedly loving, letting fingers trace between the blonde spikes to scratch his scalp.

Katsuki appreciates your softness just as much as your feistiness at times, and perhaps the former he needs a little more at this time.

You lay together for a moment, remembering when you sparred for real once years ago while at UA, and how quickly he folded.

Perhaps you cheated, you think as you conjure up the memory.

…

Paired together for sparring despite your friends’ apprehensive looks, you take up the challenge gladly. Light on your feet, the two of you move in concert towards and away from each other quickly as you trade blows - a narrow dodge of a punch with a sidestep. You grab his hand, and Katsuki’s surprise emboldens you as you plant your foot firmly on the ground and use your momentum to throw him over your shoulder.

Collective gasps abound from your watching classmates as Katsuki hits the ground, hard. You smile once he’s quick to jump back to his feet, wider still as he grumbles out loud.

“You’re so goddamn sneaky.”

He resumes a fighting stance. The ring is relatively small, a chalky circle about 8 bodies in diameter, but he still hasn’t fallen out of bounds. Red-faced, he’s lunged at you again (Izuku in the crowd comments that he must be more upset that he can’t use his quirk than the fight itself) and you sidestep him once more before tripping him. He loses his balance just for a moment, but jumps back into a back handstand then rights himself. 

He does look like he’s getting his ass kicked, but your friend heckles him first with the truth.

“He’s blinded by love, go easy on him!”

Aizawa shoots her a disapproving look, and your cheeks warm, but you don’t let yourself get distracted. You won’t know how right she is until later, anyway.

Time elapses - you block another heavy roundhouse kick that causes you to skid but you stay standing as you brace for impact, your heels digging into soft ground.

“I told you I won’t ever go easy on you,” Katsuki hisses. 

He follows this up with a leg sweep that has you tumble over him, and you somersault to regain control, but Katsuki has your leg by the ankle, pulling until you dangle for a moment, but you land a punch straight into his gut despite your upside down position.

Your friend screams again to ‘get his ass!’ amongst your classmates and gets another look from Aizawa. 

But Katsuki has let go with the force of the shock and you shoot backwards and prepare for an axe kick. He blocks, but for a split second he loses his resolve - the look on your face is fierce, and he remembers exactly why he has a crush on you.

The two of you jump back and separate to the opposite sides of the ring.

“If you don’t get serious, you’ll lose,” you tease.

“I’m going easy on you,” he finally claims, gruffly.

“You literally said otherwise 15 seconds ago.”

An ooooooo runs through the crowd that makes him scowl, and he takes off again with another lunge. You block, a move that makes Shoto shake his head at the bad choice, and you skid backwards from the sheer power behind the punch, making it almost closer to the borders of the ring. The subsequent onslaught is hard and you’re about to make it out of bounds.

Until you try a desperate move.

Leaning forward suddenly as if you were to kiss him, red blooms on his face, and he immediately backs off.

Izuku cups his face in his palms.

A leapfrog jump over him and a slight push, and he’s out of the ring, having fallen flat on his ass.

Denki, Sero and Kirishima don’t let him live it down for hours.

…

You definitely did cheat.

And perhaps in a way you are now, because he’s putty in your hands as he melts into you. 

But you’re no longer fighting, whether playful or not - teeth, tongue, lips don’t clash but rather dance and glide together; fingers and palms caress and worship each other in your joint embrace.

No power struggle between you two to be found anywhere - if anything perhaps in a way, you’ve always had the upper hand, being fully adored by him.

Regardless of how much stronger he is than you, whether it is in physical ability or will or resolve, he’d still very easily and consistently succumb to your love.

[michaela-o]

Random things i think Cybertronians would find adorable about humans~♡ Pt. 2

1. Us getting scared by small things

Humans jumping or screaming at a bug, sudden noise, or a scare prank would probably seem hilarious to the bots, who would be 100% amused by how easily humans can be startled. I bet MANY bots would take advantage of this when there would be a lil human on the lost light. Bots like Whirl, Trailbreaker sometimes Swerve that would like to scare the human despite them telling him not to.

Ya all know the vine video? With guy that goes: "Aaah stoop im gonna drop my criossant."

Yes that XDD

2. Us getting lost even with maps or GPS

I personally have terrible sense of direction and orientation (*p_q*) And some bots catching humans struggle with directions, even with GPS, would be both puzzling and funny to them. They always wonder how humans get lost so easily. But come on give the lialison a break the lost light is fucken HUGE.

3. Getting “hangry”

I mostly get tired when i'm hungry but when im also irritated i become hangry. I think bots would find humans getting irritable when they’re hungry both funny and perplexing to them who might see it as an amusing “malfunction” due to our a basic need.

4. Human body “glitches”

Hiccups, sneezes or random muscle twitches and similar reflexes would be entertaining to the bots, who’d find these involuntary responses both weird and amusingly unpredictable especially when we tell them that we can't control them. Get ready to be friendly bullied for this by some of the bots.

Human sitting over on Swerve's bar counter: *sneezes*

Whirl: What the frag was that sound? A sparkling's war cry?

Human: ( ｡ớ︿ờ)

5. Collecting random souvenirs

Humans collecting small souvenirs, like seashells, keychains, or mugs from places they visit, would be amusing to Cybertronians, who might see it as an odd way of marking memories. Since from what i was reading in comics i didn't see any bots do this and i think they would find this pretty adorable. Almost like we materialize memories.

We are all like crows :3

6. Huddling for warmth

When humans instinctively huddle together or bundle up in thick layers when we're cold. Bots would simply find it cute amd definitively have to fight the yrge to just- squish-

Our need to find warmth and the cozy solutions we come up with would seem quaint and endearing (*´˘`*)

7. Gathering in groups for safety

The way we instinctively form groups, especially in unfamiliar or intimidating and scary situations would be both cute and a bit amusing to bots who might see it as humans’ way of finding strength in numbers despite their physical smallness. But we find great comfort in it ( *^艸^*)

8. Soothing or hugging each other in stress

When we instinctively comfort each other with hugs or reassuring words would be adorably puzzling to the bots, who’d find it endearing that humans can find peace in such small, gentle gestures. I bet a bot that is visibly sad would be pretty surprised when the human lialison comes up to them and just hug their servo and ask if they want to talk about it. It personally makes me happy when i can comfort and help someone in need ( ｡ớ ᴗờ)

9. Making eye contact to connect

Humans instinctively make eye contact to establish trust or share feelings, which many bots would find very intimate, sincere and honest because it shows how deep the personal nature of human connection can go ( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ )

(bots getting lost in human's eyes is one of my guilty pleasures)

10. Fighting for what’s important

We humans naturally stand up for our values, friends, and families, often driven by an instinct to protect or defend what we love. I think bots would find this fierce loyalty and bravery adorably noble for such a small species such as us. I even think that many would take us for an example in this (｡>ㅅ<｡)

11. Helping others instinctively

Cybertronians would likely find this endearing that humans instinctively help each other out—whether holding open a door, picking up dropped items, or offering support without being asked. This is the very nature that makes us human (*´▽`*)

12. Blushing when embarrassed or flustered

The way our cheeks turn pink or red when we're shy, embarrassed, or flustered would be extremely cute to the bots, who’d see it as a “giveaway” that adds to our vulnerability and the fact that we just can't hide our emotions makes us very emotionaly transparent is just straight up adorable.

13. The way the human brain is so simple

I personaly am very simple human being and i find many stupid and simple things funny and laugh at them. I think because of this many bots would find us very innocent and adorable

(｡>▽<｡)

AAAAARRRGH there's so many other things i wanna write but i decided to make part two of this bc i enjoy writing this stuff. Dis a good soup :33

(i might add a small masterlist to my pinned post :3)

[4theitgirls]

cardio routines

low impact

20 minute low impact cardio by fitbymik

30 minute no jump standing cardio by april han

30 minute no jumping full body workout by BIGSIS

30 minute no rest standing cardio by BIGSIS

30 minute all standing no jumping cardio by eleni fit

30 minute no jumping cardio by eleni fit

30 minute constant cardio by caroline girvan

30 minute low impact cardio by caroline girvan

30 minute no jumping cardio by lena snow

34 minute full body cardio by BIGSIS

40 minute no jumping standing cardio by BIGSIS

45 minute kickboxing cardio by eleni fit

with dumbbells

20 minute dumbbell hiit cardio by BIGSIS

20 minute full body dumbbell cardio by BIGSIS

20 minute sweaty dumbbell cardio by caroline girvan

25 minute dumbbell cardio by BIGSIS

25 minute dumbbell hiit by juice & toya

30 minute non-stop cardio by BIGSIS

30 minute intense cardio with light weights by fitness__kaykay

30 minute blazing hiit cardio with dumbbells by caroline girvan

30 minute dumbbell hiit by caroline girvan

35 minute dumbbell cardio by caroline girvan

35 minute cardio pilates with light weights by move with nicole

43 minute dumbbell cardio by caroline girvan

54 minute dumbbell cardio by caroline girvan

hiit

20 minute killer hiit by emi wong

20 minute no jumping hiit by emi wong

20 minute hiit with no jumping options by emi wong

30 minute no jumping hiit by eleni fit

30 minute low impact hiit & abs by eleni fit

30 minute no jumping hiit to the beat by eleni fit

30 minute no jumping hiit by growingannanas

30 minute no jumping full body hiit by emi wong

30 minute hiit with no jumping options by emi wong

30 minute full body hiit by emi wong

30 minute low impact hiit by heather robertson

40 minute low impact hiit by eleni fit

45 minute no jumping hiit by eleni fit

45 minute no jumping hiit by emi wong

walking workouts

20 minute step to the beat by juice & toya

20 minute low impact step to the beat by juice & toya

25 minute 2 mile walk with optional weights by growwithjo

30 minute walking cardio by emi wong

30 minute walking cardio by growwithjo

30 minute metabolic walking workout by olivia lawson

30 minute boosted walking workout by olivia lawson

30 minute walking metabolic exercise for olivia lawson

30 minute intense walking workout by eleni fit

30 minute fast walking workout by growwithjo

40 minute walking workout by april han

45 minute walking workout by emi wong

59 minute 4 mile walking workout by growwithjo

1 hour walking workout by emi wong

1 hour walking workout by eleni fit

1 hour 19 minute 5 mile walking workout by growwithjo

1 hour 23 minute walking workout by yanafit

dance workouts

10 minute energy boost workout by pamela reif

10 minute pop dance workout by pamela reif

12 minute happy cardio dance workout by pamela reif

15 minute 2000s dance workout by growwithjo

15 minute dance style cardio by pamela reif

15 minute dance party workout by madfit

15 minute 80s dance workout by pamela reif

15 minute 90s dance workout by madfit

20 minute chappell roan hiit dance workout by emkfit

20 minute sweaty dance workout by eleni fit

20 minute 80s dance workout by madfit

20 minute cardio dance hiit by eleni fit

20 minute mamma mia pilates dance workout by emkfit

20 minute dance hiit cardio by growwithjo

22 minute barre & ballet hiit by ballet thera fit

30 minute walking dance cardio by eleni fit

30 minute cardio dance hiit by eleni fit

tabata

8 minute tabata by heather robertson

10 minute standing tabata by emi wong

12 minute tabata hiit by growingannanas

15 minute tabata by heather robertson

20 minute fierce tabata by heather robertson

24 minute tabata hiit by growingannanas

24 minute sweaty tabata hiit by growingannanas

24 minute killer tabata hiit by growingannanas

25 minute body weight tabata by heather robertson

30 minute killer tabata hiit by growingannanas

38 minute tabata & abs by heather robertson

40 minute tabata by heather robertson

jump rope workouts

10 minute jump rope weight loss workout by rachel gulotta fitness

10 minute jump rope workout by rachel gulotta fitness

15 minute jump rope & abs by madfit

15 minute jump rope hiit by madfit

18 minute jump rope workout by holly dolke

20 minute jump rope hiit by rachel gulotta fitness

30 minute hiit with jump rope by heather robertson

more under 30 minutes

10 minute morning cardio by BIGSIS

10 minute low impact, no repeats by BIGSIS

15 minute fast paced cardio by BIGSIS (my favorite!)

20 minute no jumping cardio by emi wong

20 minute no jumping cardio by caroline girvan

20 minute low impact cardio by fitbymik

20 minute low impact cardio x hiit by juice & toya

[wileys-russo]

Hiii! I have an idea for an Alexia x R soft fic.

So you know how Barça shared ig stories of Alexia being at the bona diada event, then she jumped into training right after (captain duties, we know).

Inspired by that, Alexia falls asleep in r’s arms right after lunch break and the team snaps a photo of them cuddled up

heavy eyelids II a.putellas

"you do know that looking at your phone or the door every five seconds does not make her appear any faster?" your eyes moved to meet frido's teasing gaze as you pulled a face and rolled your eyes.

"i wasn't! i know she is busy, and she will be here later." you huffed, tucking your phone away in your locker and bending down to lace up your shoes.

"again! you are doing it again!" frido laughed a moment later, catching your eyes once more lingering toward the changing room doors hoping your girlfriend would be walking through them everytime a new body appeared.

"no! i was..." you trailed off with a slight frown, struggling to think of a suitable answer. "looking for alexia." ingrid chimed in as you sent her a fierce scowl, crossing your arms over your chest.

"shut up." you grumbled, sick of their teasing and standing to head out to the field.

"oh amiga we do not train for another...ten minutes. do you not want to spend them staring at the door trying to make alexia appear with your magic laser eyes?" patri's arm fell over your shoulder as she gave you a cheesy grin and laughter rang out among your teammates.

"pew pew pew!" pina poked your cheek, pointing at your eyes and ducking your fist that swung at her with a wolfish smile. "like you two can talk. amor idiotas enfermos!" you muttered, a beat of silence passing before you raced out of the room with both girls hot on your heels.

"bon dia!" you managed to get out with a smile toward the iphone camera filming the walks in before pina landed on your back, sending you stumbling forward and nearly losing your footing.

you struggled to throw her off, grins painted on both your faces as her arm wrapped around your neck and eventually with a puppy dog look sent to patri she called her girlfriend over and off you.

you moved to join in for stretches, having already popped in to see the physios to have your hamstring taped up and looked at, a hard tackle yesterday giving you a little discomfort and promising your girlfriend you'd not ignore it.

your girlfriend whom you'd briefly dusted with a few light good morning kisses before she'd all but rolled out of bed and into the shower, her morning schedule much more jam packed than yours.

"ale. mi amor that is your second alarm!" you warned quietly with a smile of amusement, kissing her bare shoulder as she exhaled tiredly into the pillow her face was pressed against.

"i told you to go to bed when i did." you chuckled, the blonde having insisted she'd join you shortly but by the time she did you were dead asleep, leaving her with only a few short hours of decent rest.

"despierta guapa." you cooed, another tired exhale and you were scooting over to give her enough room to roll onto her back, hazel eyes blinking tiredly as she reached up to rub them.

a few sleepy kisses and she was pushing up and out of the bed, making a beeline for the bathroom as you watched her go, eyes lingering over the assortment of intricate inkings scattering her toned bare back.

despite the fact you could have slept another couple of hours and alexia's insistence you do so, she'd stepped out of the shower to the smell of coffee and breakfast and smiled, chuckling to herself at the thought of you ever actually listening to her.

a driver already downstairs to collect her, hair and makeup was up first which you know despite pretending to hate alexia secretly quite enjoyed, you'd prepped her breakfast and caffeine to go.

"qué haría yo sin ti?" alexia sighed, strong hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body into hers. "sleep in and starve." you teased, leaning up to press your lips against hers, mumbling about how she'd be late and wrenching yourself away.

then with one more lingeringly soft kiss, the front door was closing with a click and the apartment you shared was just a little bit quieter.

"oye, tonta!" you zoned back into reality as fingers clicked in your face, pushing away mapi's hand and resuming your stretches.

"and now she is trying to imagine alexia is here, so sad." mapi tutted with a sarcastic sigh, yelping as you reached over to pinch her calf and darting to hide behind her own girlfriend.

"she might not need to imagine." ellie piped up next, tapping your shoulder as your head whipped around to where her finger pointed, perking up and not even caring how it looked as you scrambled to your feet.

you heard the jeering and teasing behind you but paid it no mind, using all of your restraint not to sprint across the field as your girlfriend hurried into training, a polite smile and greeting flashed at the media team.

"hola." alexia smiled, and despite how well she often hid it you could see the exhaustion in her eyes as she did so, the two of you having clear boundaries around your displays of affection in professional settings.

so you settled for the brief but sincere hug the two of you shared, a subtle kiss to your shoulder and a quiet i missed you in your ear.

"qué?" alexia frowned at the amused look you were giving her, the pair of you moving back toward the group as the rest of the coaching staff filed out to the field to start training.

"muy bonita." your thumb traced her jaw, her makeup from the event earlier still clear and evident on her face. "no time to take it off." alexia grumbled and your smiled only widened, knowing that secretly your girlfriend wasn't as upset about this as she might seem.

regardless she played her part, pushing and smacking at both vicky and jana whose teasings continued throughout the session.

mocking cries of 'salve la reina' echoing about the field before your girlfriend silenced them with skill, a rainbow flick over vickys head and into the goal having her jaw dropped and the moment the whistle blew she was by alexia's side begging her to show her how.

you watched with a fond smile as the blonde dragged the younger girl in for lunch in a headlock, a kick to the back of your knees having you stumbling and then sprinting off after mapi.

"oh look there is alexia entering the room. there is alexia getting her lunch. there is alexia-" you swallowed your mouthful of food and tried not to choke as fridos hands smooshed your cheeks, forcing your head to follow your girlfriends every move.

"déjame en paz!" you huffed, yanking her hands off and shrugging her away as she moved to slide into the seat across from you with a wink.

"you are so annoying on mondays." you grunted, the blonde pulling a face and falling into conversation with the rest of the table.

"oh and look here is alexia sitting down!" she paused speaking with esme to announce, your girfriend giving her a strange look as she settled beside you, knee knocking into yours in a silent hello.

"ignore her." you grumbled, frido sending you both a happy smile and turning away again. "pareces cansado amor." your face scrunched a little in concern, hand brushing hers beneath the table.

"estoy bien." alexia murmured, lips quickly pressing against your cheek reassuringly before ingrid called her name and tugged her into conversation.

however throughout lunch you noticed her contributions became less and less, sentences turned to singular words which turned to only hums of agreement and to show she was even listening which truly you weren't sure she was.

when you'd both finished eating you hurried to grab her tray and yours, dismissing her protests as she got up and followed after you none the less.

there was still a half hour left of your break but you could see the exhaustion still clear in her eyes as you tugged on her shirt and nodded for her to follow after you.

"dónde?" the blonde frowned as she fell into step with you none the less, the chatter of the lunch room fading behind you and your hand found its way into hers.

"cariño. i thought we said-" you glanced toward her as you tugged her into the media room where everyone was due to spill into for the afternoon. "oh no! we are not here for that, putellas." you laughed, recognizing the way her eyes raked over your body.

"qué hacemos aquí?" your girlfriend asked and you didn't miss the way her other hand grazed your hip causing you to chuckle. "you are going to take a nap." you smiled, a look of disgust painted on your girlfriends face as you took a seat and patted the chair beside you.

"a nap? i am not a child!" she scoffed as you wordlessly patted the seat beside you. "vale. then just come sit with me, look at social media, rest." you shrugged, the blonde looking like she was going to continue to argue but with a quirk of your eyebrow she relented.

"gruñón." you teased, poking her cheek as her eyes rolled but her body leaned into yours none the less, her focus down on her phone. you jumped a little in shock as not a minute later it fell into your lap and you had to put a hand over your mouth to stop yourself laughing.

"idiota." you smiled, carefully adjusting your position so the taller girls head slumped to your shoulder, chest rising and falling as you resumed the doom scrolling of your own phone.

but the peace didn't last long as you heard the chatter and giggles which meant the two of you wouldn't be alone for much longer, one of your arms wedged behind alexia as she slept on, her own arms crossed and a stoic look on her face even as she rested.

something you'd teased her for endlessly and it appeared you wouldn't be the only one as the first group of girls burst into the room, silenced by the murderous glare you shot their way, giggles dying and voices hushed as they hurried up to the back of the room.

"vicky." you warned quietly as the girl hung behind her friends, phone in hand and a slight smile on her face.

"no." you shook your head as her smile grew, and you sighed as she snapped a few photos and raced off after the others. but she wasn't alone as several of the girls did the same, none quite loud enough to wake your girlfriend but all capturing the moment of her asleep half on top of you before hurrying to their seats.

but of course, there was one person who would never be one to let her rest, intentional or not.

"oye capitana, despertar sunshine!" mapi cooed bursting into the room as alexia shot up as if someone had poured cold water all over her and ingrid winced, smacking her girlfriend and shoving her into a seat.

"ow! what?" mapi grumbled as ingrid told her off quietly, shaking her head as the defender huffed and sulked in her chair. "i fell asleep? you should have woken me." alexia sighed, sending you a tired glare as she stretched her neck.

"you needed the sleep cari, it was only a little while." you promised, squeezing her knee as the older girl sighed but nodded, settling back into her chair as the lights were dimmed and pere entered, starting to set up the presentation for you all to watch.

"vicky!" you jolted again in surprise as alexia's head whipped around, phone in hand and eyes narrowing into a glare at the younger girl sat at the back of the room whose smile dropped and she paled.

"delete that story, ahora mismo. or you can run laps until you drop!"

[luveline]

i just bought the actual cutest spider-man hoodie and now i’m thinking about peter seeing reader wearing spider-man merch !!! <333

The thwack is telling. You hear the splat and your heart jumps out of your chest, that weird wet sound against red-brick wall, and then you realise what it means and start to panic. 

“Hey, woah woah woah!” Peter says, jimmying open your bum window with a too-strong hand. “It's just me, don't panic.” 

You clamber off of the desk chair you're in and rush into the bathroom. 

“Hello?” 

“Two seconds!” you shout, closing the door hard behind you. You can hear the light pad of Peter's footsteps on the floor from the window, but after that he must disguise the weight of them, and you're doubly startled by his knock. “Two seconds, Peter.” 

“Uh… no?” 

You look around frantically. “What do you mean, no?” 

“You're freaking out? Let me in? Like, right now?” 

“None of those were questions.” 

Peter starts to rattle your door handle. “I'll break it!” he threatens, his voice in that funny place where he's joking but not, the same tone he uses to mess with bad guys who underestimate him. You're being teased. 

You pull your shirt over your head just as he opens the door. “Hey, turns out it wasn't locked.” He blinks at you. “Um. Hello to you, too? This isn't the welcome I was expecting.” 

“Cut the smarm. I got, uh. Soup on me.” 

“Soup.” 

You nod fiercely. “So much soup.” 

“You know I'd smell it, right?” he asks, his hair damp with sweat, the mask stuffed in the pocket of his suit and threatening to fall out as he grabs your shirt. His reflexes are too fast to stop him, as he anticipates your movements before they truly happen. 

You stand there in your teeny vest top, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at any spot that isn't his face as he throws out your shirt and takes in the graphic design on the front. 

He looks between you and the shirt smiling like a fool. He laughs, and he tilts his head one way then the other before laughing again. 

“What's so funny?” you challenge. 

“Put this back on,” he says back, matching your demanding tone. “Right now.” 

“No way.” 

“Put it on! You're indecent. Here, I'll help.” 

It's not funny how quickly you lose, shrieking and pushing backwards into the shower as Peter tries to force your arms through the shirt. You laugh as he grabs you and he knows he can keep going, pushing the shirt over your head and his knee between your thighs, and suddenly you've got Spider-Man's emblem on your chest again, the end of the shirt bunched above your stomach. You're both breathless from the scuffle. He stares at your merch. 

“My eyes are up here.” 

“Shut up,” Peter says just as quickly, kissing you hard. A rough and short thing, the glove of his suit on your naked hip. You breathe out in a rush and kiss back, not feverish but getting there, never not happy to feel the seam of his lips parting against yours. He yanks back, “Is this–” 

You kiss him again before he can ask if it's alright. You like a good fight, and it's hard for him to make fun of you for the shirt when you're kissing. He kisses you long enough to make you dizzy, thumb under the hem of your embarrassing apparel. 

He brings his hand to his mouth to bite off his glove and hits the shower with his elbow, a rain of droplets falling from the head like shards of ice down the back of his neck. He pulls away, blinking, and you laugh at his misfortune tauntingly.

“Cold night in Queens?” you ask. 

He wipes at his neck. “Warm for you. You are never taking it off. Never.” 

“What, you like it?” you ask. 

“Just enough to chase you into the bathroom, yeah.” 

“Friendly neighbourhood pervert,” you say happily. 

He wipes his wet hand down your bare stomach. “And his number one fan.” 

[vyliez]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 why'd you only call me when you're high?

pairings: se-mi x fem!reader

synopsis: se-mi is fucking high.

warnings: none, some suggestive content but ykw, hell yea!

a/n: wrote this on an airplane while listening to arctic monkeys because their songs elevate me to the heavens. also this is my first fic in this account, i'm tryna get back to writing again!

3:07 a.m.

the constant ringing of your phone woke you up from sleep. "what the fuck?" you muttered to yourself sleepily, grabbing your phone from the darkness, flinching slightly at the glare of your phone's brightness as her name blared on your phone screen. you sigh to yourself. what is it now?

"se-mi?" you asked, picking up. there was a small silence on the other line before a crackle and a couple of mumbled incoherent words.

"babyyyy, i missed you,"

oh you knew this tone too well.

you and se-mi weren't dating. but also not just friends. it was more of a casual situationship. or fuck buddies? you didn't know to be honest. but you knew why she'd phone you. she wanted some relief or she's high. but apparently, tonight she was both after sharing a smoke with that 'bastard motherfucker' as you call him—thanos.

"are you high?" you asked amusedly, pulling the covers towards you tightly, holding the phone in one hand.

"whatttt? nooo?" se-mi replies, scoffing in the other line. she was definitely high. "i feel like floating though..." she trails off.

you sigh tiredly, rubbing your eyes sleepily. "go to sleep se-mi, i'm tired," you groan as you hung up.

"wait—no! no! n—!" she says frantically, trying to keep you in the line but it was already too late, all she heard was beeping.

you opened your phone to see fifteen missed calls and a shit ton of messages from her. "gods, se-mi," you mutter to yourself as you browsed through her messages.

se-mi:

babyyy, i'm so sorryyy ☹️☹️☹️

please reply ☹️

i know you're reading this, i can literally see your status

pleaaaaseee just tonight and i won't bother you again ☹️

i miss you

plsplsplspls

you sighed at the recent messages, looking at the bubble, watching the three dots jump up and down as se-mi typed another message.

se-mi:

okay maybe not the last time but ykwim

pleaaaseee i'll do anything

i rlly miss you sm ☹️

you tried to fight the smile creeping up on your face as you read her yearnings. you took a deep breath, rubbing a hand through your face as you contemplated your decisions.

you:

why'd you only call me when you're high?

se-mi:

hi?

you snorted at the response, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. you watched as she kept spamming you, mostly sending stuff word by word.

se-mi:

please

i will

literally

die here

her persistence made you give up, sighing as you typed out your response. you knew the end to this but you know what? hell yeah.

you:

fine.

se-mi:

YES???

YIPPEE

LET'S GOOO

I'M OMW PRINCESS 🫡🫡🫡

you smiled, finding her reaction endearing as you watched the typing bubble and her online status disappear.

and just like a flash, se-mi comes up to your door, knocking. you got out of bed and walked towards the front door, opening it to reveal se-mi. she was wearing that stupid shit eating grin again as she greeted you. her piercings glinted against the dim lights, she adjusted her wrinkled leather jacket as she shifted her weight from one foot to another.

"hi," se-mi greets you giddily before crashing her lips against yours. you yelped against her mouth, your hands instinctively snaking towards her shoulder as you responded to her fervent kiss. se-mi slammed the door with her foot, pushing you further into your apartment, kissing you so fiercely that had you almost toppling backward the coffee table. she pushed you towards the couch, straddling you as she trapped you beneath it.

"fuck... love you so much baby," se-mi mumbles against your lips, panting heavily as her lips traced a trail down towards your neck. you moaned out softly, your hands burying in the tresses of her hair. groaning, you tugged on her hair—wait.

you visibly freezed, realizing se-mi's words. love? it seems as though she noticed you as she lifted her head from you neck, looking up at you widely, making her look like a cat for some reason. "what is it baby? why? what's happened?" she mumbled softly, resting her chin on the flesh of your boobs.

"n-nothing i-..." you breathed out shakily, your breathing still ragged. "it's nothing," you whispered, shaking your head as you cupped her face and kissed her again, succumbing back to pleasure. you didn't know if it was the drugs that made se-mi high or she just didn't believe you but said nothing anyways, but you were grateful she didn't question it anyways.

as her hands fumbled to remove the flimsy shirt you had on, you couldn't help but wonder. was she just a regular fuck? did she really love you? why'd she only ever call you when she's high?

because fuck—everything about her is like a drug that you wouldn't even hesitate to get high to.

[petalsonmoon]

breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out… you're falling in love.

(i'd just like to say that in this scenario i imagined UA as an university so they're a bit older... thank you for reading <3)

you had no one to blame but yourself. you read too much and you never know when to stop. but really, how can you go to sleep when the found family are about to perform the heist?

so when school was back things got complicated. your brain had its own routine by now so when you were laying in bed and the moonlight was trying to get in through the curtains it felt like you just drank 3 bottles of coffee.

your celling was making your mind combust this is why you got up and decided to take a little walk. you left your dorm and went for the stairs, feet light as the moonlight touching the walls. maybe you should buy a sleeping mask. or try meditation. new year new habits.

when you arrived at the communal space you were trying not to let the frustation win the fight against your empathetic consciousness. one side of your head was screaming that the begining of a school year should be centered, organized and fierced and an insomnia on your first day is not a great start. the other part was giving you a gentle pat on your head saying that life doesn't end when you graduate and you just have to take one day at a time.

you find yourself walking very slowly towards the kitchen and sitting on your usual stool. the third one from right to left. the whole place was beautifully iluminated by the moon. isn't sad that the moonlight is actually an reflection of the light that hits them? must be isolating.

there was a mini jar on the counter filled with m&m's. you slided it close to you and started to eat the yellow ones.

it was 5:28am acording to the microwave. m&m's were a great breakfast.

but the moon itself was pretty once iluminated by the others.... so it must feel pretty, right? seen? especially if it knows us, humans are captivated by its brutal and elegant greyness,

"the fuck is this?"

you jump. like cartoon jump.

and he didn't even scream he merely whipered. a rasp and crude whisper but a hushed tone nonetheless.

"holy jesus bakugo-" you whisper back with your hand on your chest trying calm it.

"what are you doing?" his interrupition as strong as he is.

"you scared the shit out of me." you complete. sort of ignoring his question.

he stayed still a few feet away burning you with his red eyes. his natural rage and powerful aura filling up the space.

"morning." you say. not in a good mood to smile but with enough chocolate in your system to sound gentle.

his eyes were on you for 5 seconds (5 minutes in your head) before he growled and moved, walking around the counter, turning one single light of the relatively big kitchen and started to get everything to prepare his healthy breakfast.

since first year, bakugo grew gracefully for those who noticed. although he changed he'd still murder you with an m&m if you said that out loud. you're definitely not that close to the boy but you were one of those who got enchanted by a determination so big and fierce someone could get blinded by it.

just like you were constantly astonished by momo's bright and calculated mind or todoroki's immense gentleness after a life that lacked warmness, you spent those 3 years seeing bakugo as an inspiration.

although his whole group of friends had a confidence you wished you had. they intimidated you. hagakure says it's you being stupid.

you watch as the boy moves fast and domestically calm through the gabinets, knowing exactly what he needs and wants.

with his large back facing you he started chopping and boiling and cooking. all the yellow m&m's had ended by the time one of you said a word.

"why are you up?"

raspy and soft. but you were not expecting him acknowledging you at all.

"hm..." your eyes focused on his back. "insomnia. vacation consequences."

you hear a distant grunt.

"so you came here to eat chocolate?" he kept preparing his dish in an annoyingly organized way.

"well, if my body is not feeling like being healthy might as well join his thinking."

"great thinking." he concludes and it's not even lacying with sarcasm. just full judgement.

it takes a few seconds for you to toughen up and keep talking.

"any tips?"

with that he turns and looks at you for a few seconds. you hold his gaze.

he only answers when he's back at glaring at the vegetables. "just fucking sleep."

it's so blunt it cracks a chuckle out of you. you betray yourself and take a single red m&m to your mouth.

"you ever slept in?"

"no." he rumbles.

"not even like, 5 minutes?"

"no."

"that's crazy..." you whisper to yourself.

"that's discipline." he defends not whispering back.

"yes, it absolutely is." you sounded silly but that was not the intention. "once me and tokoyami tried to make a schedule and wake up at 5 to train together"

it was fun trying to be healthy doing team work. you remember him telling you that dark shadow was also excited to practice outdoors since it was going to be dark still the time you agreed. "we only did it for a week."

you see him shake his head and murmur something you took 3 seconds to decode. "more than what i was expecting"

"okay!" you protest softly. "not all of us wants to be the best there is"

"and that means i can't judge you for being stupid?"

he blunts it out. as you said, bakugo was stil an angry, angry person but with patience and respect on the edges now. if you look closely.

"and some of us are not that competitive... like, really not. ever played uno with me?"

you hear him taking a deep breath. you don't know if that's an "yes" a "no" or a "i dare you to keep talking"

so you keep talking. "and i tried, doesn't that count?"

"it doesn't if you don't even do the bare damn minimum" his voice still raspy and very dure but the sleepiness not there anymore "not sleeping fries your brain." he resolutes.

"but this brain is also the reason i have anxiety so i'm just paying it back."

he finally turns to you with those immaculate sharp red eyes and points at you with the knife he was holding. "stupid."

"no, fairness." you smile and point a red m&m at him.

you held his gaze until he turned again. but then he finished part of whatever he was doing and drops the knife, washes his hands and turns to you again.

now you're getting goosebumps because he's walking towards you.

"you should've given me tips to sleep if you didn't want me annoying you at 5 in the morning" you defend yourself of something. you're really grateful for the courage the dawn gives people.

"is this gonna be a recurring thing?" he whisper. he stops in front of you, a counter between you both.

"don't know. it might be."

your hand was going to another red m&m when he stopped it. "stop eating this shit."

"then do you mind giving me cooking tips as well?"

his eyebrows furrows and he takes another deep breath letting go of your wrist. the counter was not that big. he was too close. "just focus on your breathing and it'll help you relax. even if you're not sleepy breathing techniques do help."

oh!

he did try to help you and that was sweet and you couldn't help but smile. "thank you."

he quickly turned around and went back to the stove grunting in response "don't need you yapping my ears off at the one time i have peace in this place."

with that you got up from the stool and went to your dorm feeling lightheaded.

── ☆ ──

after that there was no reason not to take deep breaths and count before sleeping. of course the problem was not fixed but it actually helped! there was some nights where your brain could not for his own health turn off the lights and it took you couting till 50 to relax but overall. you were sleeping at least 6 hours straight so a win is a win.

your relationship with bakugo evolved from not talking at all to you saying hi to him and him grunting in return. the universe decided to be kind to you by pairing you two a few times to spare during some of aizawa's classes and it was so unhealthy how you felt happy and annoyingly you with him.

so some nights you did had to trick yourself into not think about bakugo. to not think about how domestically warm and confortable it would be to cook with the boy if you were a little bit more than friends.

and then you blink three times remembering you were at best his colleague and you shouldn't be thinking this just because of an exchange of 30 minutes and a few swift but blazing conversations.

but it's a reasonable crush if we analyze the bigger picture.

you're not one with much confidence, and even though you're not one with many romantic experience too it's an understandable situation having a bloom of emotions when you finally have nice exchanges with the person you admire the most in class.

right?

four weeks later, saturday happened.

you've been doing good in training and even your studing sessons were making you proud so you decided to give yourself a deserving movie night.

things were great when you watched a movie and then another one but you decided you wanted a sweet popcorn to accompany you with the third one. and that went terribly wrong.

which is where you are now, looking at whatever annomaly you were swiping in the frying pan.

"of course you're involved with that god awful smell." he grunts from a few meters behind you and you're not sure how you didn't hit his head with how far you jolted.

"fucking hell bakugo!" you turn to him and it's noticible he’s trying to hold the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. don’t look that way. "how does an angry bird like you have such a light feet?"

"by not wanting to wake the losers" he concludes coming closer to you to discover what was happening at the crime scene.

oh! he smells good.

at 5am? criminal. cinnamon but with a touch of sandalwood. you truly wanted him to give you a prolonged hug.

"you are a fucking dimwit." he grimaced.

"i'm not great with new recipes!" you didn't have a single argument this time.

"ruin popcorn it's a new level." he walked towards the trash and opened. it's kind of a superpower that his expression alone could criticize so many aspects of a person.

you defeatedly walked to him with the pan in hands and threw its content in the trash.

"hopeless." he whispered as he took the object from you and walked to the sink.

you pout and make way to sit in your stool by the counter.

"i make a neat rice." you whisper back.

he immeditaly let out a chuckle. "i bet."

why were you still here was a question you'd burned with the imaginary popcorn. so it took you while to say anything,

"i remember in second year," really nice of them to keep replacing the m&m's in the jar. it was a good distraction look for the yellow ones. "when we were celebrating jiro's birthday and everybody was outside, i was going back inside to refil my water cup when i heard kaminari's voice desperately apologizing-"

a loud noice startled you. it sounded like a pot hitting the sink. you're not to make assumptions but it felt like he knew where you were going.

so you kept talking. "and suddendly you barked at him to shup up-"

"i didn't fucking bark-" he interrupted snarling. oh he was so sweet.

"-turns out he accidentally ruined a small part of her cake and you fixed it in record time. and didn't even eat it. i'm quite sure you went to bed after the happy birthday" you interrupted his interruption.

it was a quiet night so by the sounds you could identify that he started to do whatever he was doing a bit more angryly.

"cakes are stupid." he rumbles.

"they are important on birthdays."

"fucking dunce face can't keep his mouth shut-" him angrily replying with his back to you was a bit comical.

"in his defense" in the counter, you make a heart with the yellow m&m's you haven't eaten yet. "i traded this information giving him my piece of the cake that day."

you glace up and he was still treating the food with rage. "because surprisingly i'm not a big fan of cakes."

"weird coming from someone with the most crappy eating habits."

"i know, right?" you answer and he doesn’t respond. you fill the little heart with the red m&m's.

you take a deep breath.

"it was nice of you" you look up. "the number one spot is in safe hands."

he stilled. for about 7 seconds.

then he started to move again. calmly. you start to eat the yellow m&m's and after a while of him preparing his perfect little breakfast he speaks again.

"you being a sting in my ass since last year and telling me proudly." he says, his voice a bit more deep and cemented.

"yes, i like to think i'm a nice little bee." you admit.

"HA!" his rough laugh invaded the room.

"they're pretty and united and very important-"

"will you include the part they make honey and you can"t cook for shit?"

"it's a team work!" you defend. "don't you think that when a bee has problems with her honey, another one doesn't come to help?"

now you try to hold your laughter from your own statement.

"that's just pathetic." he answers.

"you're just not a bee." you resolve. you start to eat the red m&m's left. "you're more like a lone wasp. they're big and quite prett-"

your discourse is interrupted when a small bowl is strongly put in front of you spreading the red dots.

"hey!" you're about to protest when its contents finally loads in your brain.

it's popcorn.

with chocolate.

you feel the little bees in your stomach make a mess. a pure and chaotically comforting emotion fill your heart and there is no going back now. how can a furious boy make you breathe so peacefully?

when you finally come back to the moment and look up he immediately turns around and goes back to the stove.

"bakugo-"

"no." his tone heavy and definitive.

you take a deep breath and try to relax. not fighting the small smile in your face anymore.

"bakugo." your tone soft but as decisive as his.

he fights for a second but turns to you with a locked jaw. his eyes the sharpest you've ever seen, giving you nothing to unravel before going to sleep.

"thank you." and with that you leave the kitchen.

── ☆ ──

the following week you felt like suffocating but also very fucking joyful.

nothing prominent changes in your rotine. you're still dedicated to have a good sleeping pattern and things with you and bakugo haven't changed. and you weren't expecting them to.

but you needed saturday to come.

you were going to be there on purpose this time. and you were fiercily holding the ballon of insecurities screaming that you were too in clouds of your emotions to not think your decision carefully.

so it's 5:37 when you're getting closer to the kitchen, the familiar hiss and chopping of the food capturing the place making you shiver for some reason.

a well known reason but whatever.

you gently pull your usual stool to sit on it and your eyes lock to his figure, who froze for a millisecond when you made the sound.

your hand automatically made way to the mini jar that lived in the counter only to find nothing there.

you whip around to glare at him.

"who did you threatened to blow to get my m&m's removed?"

he took his time finishing whatever he was doing and turned to you very slowly. to have his attention on you once again sent intense shivers all over your body.

"why am i involved?" he soflty replies and you think you like his voice a little too much.

"you're always involved."

"always?"

"yep." you nod.

he leans his body back on the sink putting his hands on his pockets. boy, it's really fucking unffair to be heavenly beautiful like this.

you pout. "i just want my yellow m&m's back."

and then. and then

he measures your face before taking his right hand out of his pocked, setting a yellow m&m on his tongue and closing his mouth.

"come get it." he replies nonchantly.

your body suddenly feels solid and your blood it's cathing on fire. there is no way this scene wasn’t a creation of your most desired dream that was buried deep in your consciousness.

"well?" he arches one eyebrow and you blink. twice.

you decide in a millisecond to fight fire with fire. you're not a confident person but you could pretend to be.

you get off the stool and walk around the counter, only to sit on it placing yourself not far from him. you feel his eyes piercing you until yours met his.

"someone told me once i don’t even do the bare minimum…" you motioned to the empty space where the jar used to be “why would i go there if it can come to me?”

you hold his gaze while he took four steps to arrive and place himself between your legs.

he’s fixated on your mouth while you decide your favorite color is the color of his hair.

his slight smirk felt like an illusion when he breathes in your mouth “you little minx.”

then his mouth was against yours.

his hand found the back of your head making he deepen the kiss deliciously firme. a kiss as intense and imposing and skilled as the boy.

your hands made their way to his hair and it felt like a fervent dream when his own hands were now behind your thighs pulling you illogically close to him. his tongue ardent against yours making your whole body melt in his and when you scrap where his hair meets his neck his throat makes a guttural noise. you wanted to overflow in him.

when you pulled apart you’re a bit dizzy.

“you taste like chocolate.” you blur out.

placing his hands on your jaw he touches featherly your mouth with his tumb.

“why don’t you let me find out what you taste like, brat?”

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Doggystyle, Fingering, Oral (m! receiving)…

WC: ~10k (grab your snacks)

Summary: 

Nanami runs into a problem that every man dreads.

Now, you find yourself navigating the treacherous waters of his bruised ego and growing hysteria, armed with nothing but your unwavering love and a seemingly endless supply of patience, as you try to help him overcome this unexpected hurdle.

Notes: Hello! Trying to get back into the swing of writing again after so many weeks on a break and naturally Nanami is who I gravitate towards. I thought this one shot would be a funny idea, and as someone once told me, I wrote this with “my c*it on the keyboard.”

Please do not ask me for more related to this story. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune | Header: made by myself

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter |

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

“Fuck, Kento,” you breathe, fingers digging into the satin of the pillow case beneath your head.

The soft, warm glow of the bedside lamp bathes your intertwined bodies in a honeyed light, casting shadows that dance across your rich brown skin. Nanami’s lips, hot and insistent, trail a path of fire down your neck, pausing to lavish attention on the sensitive hollow of your throat. He drags his teeth along your clavicle, brushes his lips between the skin of your breasts. A breathy moan escapes you as his tongue traces lazy, deliberate circles around an already-sensitive nipple, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

His hands, strong and sure, yet infinitely gentle, knead the soft flesh behind your knees, coaxing your legs to open wider, allowing him to sink deeper into the welcoming heat of your body. The blunt head of his cock grazes that sweet spot inside you with each measured thrust, and you can’t help but arch your back, silently begging for more.

Your hair, messy from his fingers, frames your face in a splatter of curls, some clinging to the sheen of sweat on your cheeks. The sight of you like this—open, wanting, completely his—nearly steals the breath from his lungs and makes him double down his efforts.

It’s been weeks since you’ve had this. Weeks of Kento stumbling home late from working overtime, collapsing into bed still fully clothed. Weeks of missed connections, family obligations, and movie nights cut short with you both passing out on the couch. But tonight, finally, you have each other, free from the demands of the world outside.

As Nanami moves within you, his honey-wheat hair, usually so perfectly styled, falls in soft, tousled waves across his forehead, clinging to the perspiration that glistens on his brow. The strong line of his jaw is taut with concentration, a muscle jumping beneath the skin in a way that makes your fingers itch to trace its contours. His eyes, normally a cool, observant umber, now burn with a fierce intensity, a volatile mix of desire and something else, something harder to define.

But even as you lose yourself in the rhythm of your lovemaking, in the exquisite slide of skin against skin, you can’t help but notice the weariness etched into the lines of Nanami’s face, the slight tremor in his hands as they map the contours of your body. He’s been working himself to the bone, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, and it shows in the tension of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. You had tried to get him to sleep when he sagged through the front door, but he was insistent, clawing at your too-big t-shirt, silent and too stubborn to listen to his body as he licked into your hot mouth.

He’s so tired. Mind still running through quarterly reports and half-completed project plans. But he won’t let that deter him. He’s determined to focus—to savor this moment, to lose himself in the intoxicating scent of your skin, to surrender to the tremors that course through him as your fingers ghost up his back. You marvel at the play of muscles beneath his skin, at the flex and release of his broad shoulders with each movement—a reminder of the strength he usually keeps so carefully controlled.

But as he leans in to capture your lips, that traitorous whisper of doubt in his mind grows in volume. That exhaustion that melted away from your touch has retreated to within him, to course through the blood in his veins and manifest again in its own, evil way at the apex of his thighs. Nanami’s movements falter, his rhythm turning erratic, unsure. You feel a change in him, a hesitation that wasn’t there before, and your heart clenches with concern. His brow furrows, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tries to hold onto the moment, to keep the passion burning between you. The confidence that usually radiates from him when you are both between the sheets seems to waver, leaving in its wake a man grappling with an unfamiliar sense of inadequacy.

He doesn’t want to believe it. He refuses to acknowledge the treacherous thought creeping into his mind. His cock, moments ago hard as a rock and pulsing within you, is betraying him. He digs one hand into the pillow beneath your head, fingers tangling in your curls, savoring the sharp gasp you shake out, desperately willing himself to focus on your heat, on your breath ghosting across his face—anything but the waning firmness of his erection.

With a low grunt, he thrusts deeper so there’s no room for his cock to leave you. The movement is sharper than usual, a force that has no trace of his care behind it and it immediately makes you blink through the fog of pleasure in your mind. You notice the change, concern filling you as you take in the tumultuous emotions on his face. His blonde hair falls in thick tufts over his forehead, brushing against the deepening crease between his eyebrows.

“Ken?” Your voice is soft, a gentle caress. You bring a hand to his cheek, and he leans into your touch as if your soft skin might anchor and keep him focused. “Is everything alright?”

Everything is far from alright.

It’s a nightmare scenario that Nanami can’t bring himself to voice. But he knows you feel it. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants against your vanilla skin, his fingers digging almost painfully into the flesh of your hips. He drives his hips deeper, angling upwards, trying desperately to lose himself in your pliant body.

But with his next thrust, the cruel truth becomes undeniable. What was once hard steel is now unbearably soft, slipping out of you as his hips collide with yours. Your gasp mirrors his shock as he jerks his head up to meet your gaze. The mortification in his eyes is palpable, a stark contrast to the passion that burned there mere moments ago.

“Ken, it’s okay—” you begin, but he’s already retreating, both physically and emotionally, his walls slamming back into place, shutting you out. You can practically see him retreating into himself, his shoulders hunching, his jaw clenching with a stubbornness of wounded pride.

“Hey, no, we aren’t doing this,” you insist, voice firm and laced with quiet determination.

You reach for him, your fingers wrapping around a thick wrist, anchoring him to you. You’ve spent years chipping away at his defenses, learning every facet of his being, and you refuse to let him shut you out now over something like this. This isn’t just embarrassment—it’s a fundamental shaking of his self-image, a crack in the foundation of who Nanami believes himself to be. An affliction that every man prays to the gods never finds them.

Limp dick.

You gently pull Nanami back to rest between your thighs, his weight a comforting shield against the cool air of your shared bedroom. Your fingers weave through his hair, feeling the tension thrumming through his body as he settles against you.

“Kento,” you murmur, your voice a low, soothing melody in the quiet room. “Look at me.”

He stills for a heartbeat, two, before raising his head, his eyes meeting yours. In their depths, you see a swirling maelstrom of emotions—frustration, embarrassment, shame. He’s tousled hair and flushed cheeks, an overwhelming exhaustion and stress etched beneath his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, cradling his face in your hands. Your thumbs trace the high arch of his cheekbones, feeling the heat of his skin. “This happens. It doesn’t change a thing—not how I feel, not how much I love you, none of it.”

Nanami’s jaw clenches under your palms, the muscle pulsing, a physical manifestation of the turmoil brewing within him. His gaze falls, unable to hold yours, as if the weight of his perceived failure is too much to bear. “I should be able to—”

“To what?” you interject, your voice gentle but firm. “To be some infallible sex god?” A soft laugh escapes you, your lips curving into a tender smile. “To never have limp dick?”

Those warm eyes glare at you, not at all amused by your light-hearted but poignantly accurate joke. “Now is not the time for a joke,” he grits out, his voice tight, strained.

“Now is exactly the time for a joke,” you counter, your thumb tracing the slight cracks of his bottom lip. You can sense his next moves, your body attuned to his very soul, feeling his inclination to withdraw, to roll over and brood, to let this momentary setback fester into something more. You tighten your thighs around his waist, refusing to let him drift away. “How long have we been together, Kento?”

“Three years.” His answer is immediate, automatic, a testament to the depth of your bond.

“And in that time, has this ever happened before?”

Your eyes lock—a silent battle of wills, logic against stubborn pride. He understands your point, recognizes the truth in your words, but his stubbornness matches your own. “No,” he admits, the word a reluctant concession.

“You’re human, Kento. Wonderfully, beautifully human, and the sexiest man I’ve ever known. Performance issues or not.”

He scoffs, but you feel his shoulders slacken, his body melting into yours as he exhales, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles. His arms tighten around you, calloused hands splaying across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, as if your touch alone could chase away the demons of self-doubt. Those beautiful golden strands tickle your cheeks as he nuzzles closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“Is that so?” he finally murmurs, and you can hear the small smile in his voice, a welcome change from the earlier tension. For as reserved as he is, Nanami preens under any sort of compliments you give him, a chink in his armor of cool composure.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, your hands sliding down to appreciate the firm planes of his back. “It’s a shame, really. You attract too much attention. I’ve been too generous with how long I let you out of the house.”

You feel more than hear his soft chuckle, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into yours. Nanami pulls back slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability from before hasn’t completely faded, but it’s tempered by a familiar spark of determination kindling in their depths. You don’t know if the subject has completely dropped. But for now, he doesn’t seem to dwell on it, content to focus on you instead.

“Well,” he begins, his voice dropping to that deep, velvety tone that never fails to send shivers cascading down your spine, “I should ensure your satisfaction. Maybe then you’ll extend my hours outside.”

Before you can respond, he’s moving. He sits up on his knees, hot hands wrapping around your waist before yanking your hips closer to him, a delicious show of strength that has your breath catching in your throat. Your giggle of surprise quickly morphs into a gasp as his lips find that sensitive spot just below your ear, tongue sliding against the skin before it trails down the rest of your body, leaving a path of desire that makes you shudder against him.

You expected a period of adjustment, a gradual return to the easy intimacy you and Nanami had always shared. But as time passed, you began to notice a shift, subtle at first, but growing more pronounced with each passing day.

That first sign of something odd presents itself on day three since that night, a quiet Saturday morning that dawns with a gentle golden light filtering through your bedroom curtains. You wake up to find Nanami’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Puzzled, you pad into the living room, your bare feet silent on the cool hardwood floor, your eyes roaming the space for any sign of him.

Nanami sits at the dining table, surrounded by a veritable fortress of books, their spines forming a colorful barricade around his hunched form. His laptop glows in the morning light, casting his features in a pale blue hue, multiple tabs visible on the screen. He’s hunched over and shirtless, his bare back a canvas of dark moles, constellations you’ve traced countless times with reverent fingers, your lips mapping a path between each celestial point.

As you circle the table, drawing closer to his absorbed form, you’re struck by the intensity of his concentration, the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. His fingers fly over the keyboard with a single-minded purpose, a man on a mission, lost in a world of his own making.

“What are you doing up so early?” you ask, running a hand through the short, silky hair at his nape.

He glances up, and the determined glint in his eye catches you off guard. “Research,” he replies simply, as if that single word explains everything.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you lean in to examine the book titles scattered across the table, your brow rising with each passing second:

Male Sexual Health

Nutrition and Libido

Stress Management for Peak Performance

What the—?

A mix of emotions bubbles up inside you—amusement at his determination, concern for his state of mind, a touch of exasperation at his stubbornness. Part of you wants to tease him mercilessly, to watch that adorable flush creep up his neck, to see him squirm under your playful attention. But you bite your tongue, sensing the fragility of the moment, the rawness of his exposed insecurities.

“Ken,” you begin, your voice a delicate balance of understanding and concern, “is this about what happened the other night? I thought we talked about this, baby.”

“We did,” he nods, not looking up from his screen. “And I appreciate your understanding. But I can’t let it happen again. I’m going to fix this.”

There’s so much you want to say, so many reassurances you want to offer. You want to tell him how normal this is, how surprised you are that it hasn’t happened more often given his grueling work schedule. But you bite your tongue, sensing that this is something Nanami needs to process on his own.

“Don’t you think this might be…a bit much?” you try one last time, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his bare shoulder, careful not to make him feel defensive and push him further into his own head.

“Nothing is too much when it comes to satisfying you.”

And with those words, spoken with such conviction, such raw honesty, your heart swells, a tidal wave of love and affection crashing over you. He won’t be swayed, and there’s no point in trying to argue with him when he’s set on something. You can’t help but sigh fondly, running your fingers through his hair again, your nails gently scratching his scalp in the way you know he loves. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, a low groan of appreciation rumbling from his chest as he guides your fingers to just the right spot.

As Nanami launches into an explanation of the benefits of Ashwagandha root, his fingers running along a line of text in one of the magazines, you can’t help but shake your head affectionately. You love this man, even (or perhaps especially) when he’s being ridiculously over-the-top, his determination to be the best partner he can be, even if it means diving headfirst into a world of herbal remedies and performance-enhancing techniques.

The days slip by, each one blurring into the next, a haze of normalcy tinged with an undercurrent of unease. It’s not until the morning of day ten that the true extent of Nanami’s newfound obsession becomes impossible to ignore.

The soft schick of his razor fills the bathroom, a rhythmic counterpoint to the rush of running water. He stands before the mirror, shirtless, a towel draped over his broad shoulders to catch stray flecks of shaving cream. You watch, transfixed, as he meticulously glides the razor along the sharp line of his jaw, each stroke precise, measured.

You stand beside him, your own morning ritual underway, massaging a rich, creamy lotion into your melanin-kissed skin. Your favorite scent of vanilla fills the air, mingling with the crisp, clean aroma of Nanami’s shaving cream. It’s a familiar dance, this shared moment of grooming, of preparation for the day ahead.

But as you reach for your leave-in, your eyes catch on something new, something that sends a jolt of surprise through your system. There, amidst the clutter of skincare products and toiletries, sits a new addition to the growing collection of bottles on the counter. The mustard-yellow label boldly proclaims: “Maca Root: For Vitality and Stamina”.

“Ken?” you murmur, plucking the bottle from the counter, your eyebrows dipping in confusion. “What’s this?”

Nanami’s eyes flick to yours in the mirror, his hand pausing mid-stroke, the razor hovering just above his skin. “Just a supplement,” he evades, his voice carefully neutral, a forced casualness he uses to avoid arguments he won’t win that always sets your teeth on edge. “For…overall health.”

You turn the bottle in your hands, eyebrow arching higher in disbelief with each word you read as you take in the bold, almost aggressive labeling. Your gaze darts to the other bottles littering the counter, a growing sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you take them in for the first time.

“Uh-huh. And the Zinc? The Ginseng? The…” you squint at another label, your voice dripping with skepticism, “L-arginine? All for ‘overall health’ too?”

He clears his throat, his gaze darting away from yours, focusing intently on his reflection as he studiously avoids your probing stare. “That’s right.”

“Baby—” you begin, but he cuts you off, setting down his razor with a definitive clink and shutting the water off, turning to face you fully.

The sight of him, bare-chested and gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light, sends a bolt of desire through you, a hunger that’s been left unsatiated for far too long. The thick cords of muscle that stretch across his chest and arms, the taut planes of his abdomen, the trail of dark blonde hair that disappears beneath the low-slung waistband of his sweatpants—it’s exquisite torture, a feast for your senses after days of famine.

But there’s a tension in the set of his shoulders, a skittishness in his gaze that sets off warning bells in your head.

“It’s the research I’ve been doing,” he admits, almost apologetic as he pulls the towel from his shoulders, wiping away the last traces of shaving cream from his jaw. “From what I’ve read, these have proven benefits for…various aspects of wellbeing.”

He seems almost afraid, as if he’s bracing himself for your reaction, steeling himself against the inevitability of your displeasure. Fortunately for him, the words are like a match to kindling, a spark that ignites a flame of mischief in your belly. You step closer, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, the supplement bottle forgotten on the counter behind you.

“Various aspects, huh?” you tease, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. This moment—when he smells of fresh soap, shaving cream, and mint toothpaste before cologne masks his natural scent—is one of many favorites. It’s one of the most arousing forms of Nanami Kento before he slides on his work clothes and gives the world a straight face and measured words. “Care to demonstrate some of these benefits?”

Your fingertips trace the muscles of his chest, slide along his skin with more purpose, your nails dragging lightly over his nipples, a teasing hint of pain that you know drives him wild. He inhales sharply, his muscles tensing beneath your hands, his jaw clenched tight, a reaction that’s as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

For a moment, you think you have him, that he’ll give in to the desire that darkens his eyes, that he’ll roughly bunch your skirt up around your waist, hike your legs up and around him and make the bathroom mirror knock against your back until you’re gasping out his name as you tighten around his cock.

But then he’s stepping back, his hands coming up to gently catch your wrists, pulling your hands away from his skin.

“We’ll be late for work,” voice strained, conveying his own battling desire. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the delicate skin of your wrists, your forehead, your mouth.“Let me make you breakfast instead.”

And then he’s gone, slipping past you and out of the bathroom, leaving you standing alone, frustration and disappointment warring in your chest. Your gaze falls on the supplement bottles, a physical manifestation of his growing hysteria, and for a moment, you’re seized by the urge to sweep them all into the trash, to rid your home of these unwelcome interlopers.

But you resist, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently repeat the mantra that’s become your lifeline in recent days: I love him. I love him. I love him.

But as you square your shoulders and stalk out of the bathroom to start your day, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s got to give, that this tenuous balance can’t hold forever.

Day seventeen. It feels like an eternity, a cruel and unusual punishment for a crime you didn’t commit. You’re a prisoner in your own home, trapped in a world where the man you love is just out of reach, tantalizingly close but impossibly distant.

Seventeen days too long when you live with a man as loving, kind, and attentive as Nanami Kento. Seventeen excruciating days since the concept of getting dicked down was a given, a pleasure you could indulge in whenever the mood struck. Now, you’re reduced to grasping at sloppy seconds, thirds, fourths—anything for a crumb of cock, a fleeting taste of the intimacy you crave.

You’ve become a connoisseur of stolen moments, of fleeting glances and brushing touches that once held the promise of so much more. A shared look in the bathroom mirror that used to lead to soapy sex in the shower. The brush of his hand against the small of your back as you pass in the hallway, a touch that used to lead to him pulling you flush against his body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. Now, you’re like an addict, desperately chasing the ghost of a high, sucking at nicotine-stained fingers for the essence of a hit.

In a last-ditch effort to reignite the spark to show him just how much he’s overreacting, you’ve taken to wearing his shirts around the house. You leave the top buttons undone, a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage on display, the hem riding high on your thighs to reveal the faint marks that he likes to lick against. But each night when you reach for him, Nanami simply presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips trailing a path down your body in a reverent exploration, worshiping you with his mouth and fingers until you’re trembling and spent.

But never with his cock. Never with the part of him you crave most, the part that once made you feel so deliciously full, so utterly claimed.

You feel dramatic when you think about it because it always brings tears to your eyes, hot and stinging with frustration and despair. Like you’re a petulant toddler wanting a cookie that’s been sitting on the counter all morning.

You’ve never been one to let a man dictate your life, to let his whims and insecurities hold sway over your own desires. But Nanami has always been a man to put you above and beyond anything before himself. If the women of the world knew what they were missing, if they could experience even a fraction of the pleasure Nanami Kento can provide, they’d be falling to their knees in supplication, just like you.

How far you’ve fallen.

And how little you care.

Tonight, you vow, will be different. You slip into the silk nightgown he loves, the one that clings to your every curve like a second skin, the baby blue fabric whispering against your heated flesh as you step out of the bathroom. Your heart races with anticipation, your body thrumming with need as you picture his reaction, the way his eyes will darken with desire, the way he’ll pull you into his arms and finally, finally give you what you both so desperately need.

But the bedroom is empty, the sheets still neatly made, mocking you with their pristine perfection. You frown, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you pad down the hallway, your bare feet whispering against the cool hardwood. As you approach the kitchen, a pungent, almost medicinal smell hits your senses, growing stronger with each step, mingling with the whir of a blender.

You round the corner and freeze, taking in the scene before you. Nanami stands at the kitchen counter, surrounded by an alchemist’s array of strange-looking roots and powders. The blender in front of him churns away, filled with a murky-greenish-brown liquid that looks more like something out of a horror movie than anything fit for human consumption.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice thin and strained, confusion and exasperation warring for dominance in your tone.

He looks up, startled, nearly knocking over a jar of what looks like dried herbs. “It’s…a health shake.”

You want to argue, to shake his shoulders and scream that this has gone too far, that he’s lost sight of what really matters in his quest for some unattainable ideal. But the determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way he grimaces as he chokes down a sip of the vile concoction—it all speaks to a desperation that breaks your heart even as it fuels your frustration.

As he takes another sip, nose twisted to the side to avoid the foul smell, his eyes catch your frame. They roam over you, taking in the nightgown, giving you the exact reaction you pictured before coming out here.

For a moment, you see that flicker of desire in his eyes that you’ve been craving.

But then it’s gone, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like guilt.

“I’ll come to bed soon,” he promises, grimacing through another sip of his vile brew. “Get some rest. I know today was rough at work.”

His words are like a knife to your gut, a reminder of the distance that’s grown between you, the way his obsession has consumed him so completely that he can’t even see the pain it’s causing you both.

All of this, because of one night.

You press your toes into the hardwood, your fingers twisting in the hem of your nightgown as you fight back the tears that burn the corners of your eyes.

“You…you don’t want to come to bed with me?” you whisper, hating the way your voice breaks, the way the hope that once buoyed your words has been replaced by a hollow, aching despair and annoyance.

“I want to finish this and catch up on a few things for work before I come to bed.” His gaze slides away from yours, unable to meet the hurt and frustration in your eyes. Unable to see just how in his head he has become with all of this. “It’ll be a little while. Sleep for me? Please?”

The rejection, however gentle, leaves you feeling exposed and bereft, a physical blow to your gut. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak anymore, and turn to head back to the bedroom, your vision blurring.

There’s so much more to this than just you wanting to have sex. You want to be supportive, to give him time and space to work through whatever this is. But you hate just how disillusioned he has become. His gaze and his touch are tainted now—held back by shame and fear of disappointing you. And you can’t help but feel like this is getting more out of control instead of getting better.

You love him, more than anything. But right now, listening to the distant sounds of him choking down that awful-smelling shake, you’ve never felt further apart.

It all comes to a head on day twenty-five. The day dawns like any other, the sun’s warm rays filtering through the windows of your shared apartment, casting a soft glow on the well-worn furniture and the mementos of your life together. It’s your day off, a rare respite from the chaos of the work week, and you find yourself moving through the space with a sense of purpose, straightening and cleaning, trying to bring order to the disarray that seems to mirror the state of certain parts of your relationship.

As you work, your mind wanders, replaying the events of the past month like a melancholy film reel. The distance, the tension, the way Nanami has been pulling away from you, retreating into himself in a desperate attempt to fix what he perceives as a fundamental flaw in his being. Insisting that he won’t let this happen again even though he won’t actually fuck you.

It’s a weight that’s been bearing down on you both, a shadow that’s slowly suffocating the light and love that once filled every corner of your lives.

Your feet carry you to the bedroom, to the closet you share. As you reach for Nanami’s side, intent on straightening his crisp dress shirts, your hand brushes against something unfamiliar, tucked away in the shadows. Curiosity piqued, you pull it out, revealing a plain, unmarked brown box.

For a moment, your heart stutters in your chest, a cold fear gripping your insides as you lift the lid, praying that it’s nothing that would point your partner in the direction of infidelity. But no, you shake your head, banishing the thought before it can fully form. Nanami would never betray you, never seek solace in the arms of another because there’s only has and ever been you.

It makes complete sense in your head, but lately—

You yank open the lid and gape.

Inside, nestled among crumpled tissue paper, are items you never expected to find in Nanami’s possession. Your fingers tremble slightly as you examine them—a cylindrical pump, clear save for the rubber base, and an orange prescription bottle, its label stark against the translucent plastic.

You stare at the objects, your mind whirling with a chaotic storm of emotions. Shock, disbelief, a rising tide of frustration and despair. This isn’t just Nanami being health-conscious anymore, not just a passing phase or a well-intentioned attempt at self-improvement. This is something deeper, something more desperate, a manifestation of the fear and inadequacy that’s been eating away at him since that fateful night.

Carefully, you replace the items, your movements mechanical, your thoughts a jumbled mess. A part of you wants to laugh, to find the absurdity in the situation, to release the tension that’s been building in your chest like a pressure cooker. But you can’t bring yourself to even stifle a giggle, the weight of your worry too heavy.

You sink down onto the bed, the cool sheets soothing the heat of your legs, and draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The weeks of distance, avoidance, the way Nanami has been retreating further and further into himself, straying more and more from reason. There’s so much more to your relationship than just sex, but it’s a big part, a well-practiced part that you both can be your rawest selves during.

But all of this is a spiral that’s slowly dragging you both down, a vortex of unspoken fears and mounting frustrations on both ends.

And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your shared life in your apartment, the photos and trinkets that chronicle your love story, you know that something has to give. And it looks like you’ll have to take matters into your own hands. This ends today.

Tonight, when Nanami gets home, you’ll address this head-on. No more dancing around the issue, no more swallowing your grievances in the name of patience and nonexistent understanding. It’s time to remind him of who he is, of the man you fell in love with, the man who’s always been more than enough for you.

The sound of the front door opening pulls you from your thoughts, the soft shuffle of Nanami’s footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Love, I’m home,” he calls out, his voice weary but warm, a balm to your frayed nerves.

He appears in the doorway, his tie loosened, speckled black on yellow draped over his shoulders, the top buttons of his blue shirt undone. His glasses are gone, discarded in his haste to shed the trappings of the office, to leave the stresses of the day behind. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as they land on you, a reverent smile playing at the corners of his lips. “So beautiful.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, at the love and adoration that shines in his gaze, even though you’re in a ratty t-shirt and shorts, your curls thrown into a careless and messy bun.

“You always speak as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me,” you tease, tilting your head back to accept his kiss, a chaste press of his lips that nonetheless ignites a spark of longing in your core.

“Because it’s true,” he replies simply, his fingers brushing a stray curl behind your ear. “I’m going to shower.” He sounds despondent, unbelievably ragged with the weight of the day clinging to him like a second skin.

“Rough day?”

“A very rough day, my love,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, disrupting the sharp part that he makes every morning. He reaches a hand out to you, an invitation, a plea for your company. “Join me?”

The bathroom is a sanctuary of steam and heat, the air thick with the mingled scents of your body washes—cucumber melon and sandalwood. You perch on the counter, a fluffy towel wrapped around your body, watching as Nanami goes through his post-shower routine, his movements methodical, almost meditative.

Water droplets cling to his skin, tracing tantalizing paths down the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your fingers itching to follow those rivulets, to map the contours of his body with your lips and tongue.

“Let me,” you murmur, your voice husky with repressed longing. Your legs spread, the open lapels of your towel exposing a creamy brown thigh that Nanami’s eyes flicker to before he meets your gaze. You reach for him, pulling closer until he’s standing between your parted thighs, the heat of his waist seeping through the thin barrier of your towel.

With gentle fingers, you work through the rest of his skincare routine—toner, serum, smoothing eye cream over the delicate skin beneath his lashes. The domesticity of the moment, the intimacy of caring for him like this in whatever way you can, it’s a way to show him that you’re here—that you’re not going anywhere, no matter how lost he may feel.

Your fingertips glide over his skin, applying the last of the face cream with gentle circular motions. As you finish, your hands move to his damp hair, brushing the strands away from his forehead. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes that crease faintly when he smiles.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, a soft smile playing on your lips. Nanami’s hands come to rest on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles on your towel-covered skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, thickly. His eyes, those warm pools of mahogany, are soft with gratitude and affection.

“Always,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with love for this man.

Nanami leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. It’s meant to be a simple gesture of gratitude, but something shifts in the air around you. Whether it’s the intimacy of you both so close or the heat on your skin—the kiss deepens, slow and exploratory, as if you’re rediscovering each other after a long absence.

Your fingers thread through his damp hair, tangling in the strands as his hands tighten on your waist. Your tongue slides along his bottom lip, tasting the coffee he must have had on the way home, the hint of want that he wants to crumble into. He returns with equal fervor, pressing closer to you, sliding his tongue against yours, shivering from the soft moan that shakes from your wet lips when you both finally break apart. A gossamer thread of saliva connects you before he pecks your lips one last time. Nanami’s chest rises and falls deeply, coiled masculinity oozing from his pores, tangling with the downy hairs on his chest.

“Kento,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, “we…we need to talk about what’s been going on.”

Your hands train down his chest as you speak, mapping the familiar terrain of his body. Beneath your fingertips, his heart thunders like a trapped bird, betraying the melting calm facade he’s trying to maintain. The defined muscles of his abdomen twitch under your touch, a visceral reaction he can’t control.

“The magazines, the supplements, the smoothies,” you continue, gentle but firm. “This has gone too far. One off night, Kento. That’s all it was. Yet here you are, acting like you’re broken, like every moment we’ve shared before was somehow lacking.”

Nanami tenses, his body coiling like a spring beneath your hands. But you’re not letting him retreat—not like that night—and certainly not right now. Your legs wrap around his waist, the gap of your towel widening as you yank him closer, anchoring him to you, skin to skin.

“You think that I would look at you differently?” you murmur, catching his distressed eyes every time they try to evade your gaze, willing him to understand. “Think I would think of you as a failure? You like logic, Kento and I’m telling you the facts. You were tired, case closed.”

“But I—” he starts, his voice rough with emotion, eyes narrowing in frustration as he tries to defend himself. You silence him with a thumb to the plump skin of his bottom lip, tracing the divots of soft, pink flesh.

“You’re the healthiest man I know, Ken.” Your other hand drifts lower, brushing through the trail of dark golden hair that disappears beneath his towel. “You take such good care of us. And you never, ever fail to satisfy me.”

His breath catches as your fingers ghost over his hipbones, alternating between soft cotton and the sharp cut of his skin. “One night doesn’t change that,” you whisper, the hand on his face sliding to card through his hair, you lean in to press your lips to the strong line of his jaw. His fingers dig into your waist from your touch, Adams apple bobbing against your gliding lips as he swallows the burning desire that’s slowly searing him from the inside out. “It doesn’t make you any less amazing, any less desirable.”

You pull back, meeting his eyes. In their warm depths, you see a swirling mix of vulnerability that makes your heartache.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you again. While I know that you don’t care, being unable to provide for you fully is something that I never wanted to experience.” The confession is thick in the air, sloshing with what remains of the steam from the shower, coating your skin.

“Oh, Kento,” you sigh, pressing your forehead to his. The scent of his skin—clean soap and something uniquely him—envelops you, offers that blanket of protection that you couldn’t imagine going away. “The only thing disappointing me is how you’ve been pulling away. I’m tired of you feeling inadequate when you’re anything but.”

You pause, weighing the options in your head before you take a bounding leap, throwing care to the wind. Slowly, deliberately, you slide off the counter, your body brushing against his as you descend. The cool tile of the bathroom floor contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from your skin.

Kneeling before him, you look up, your gaze never leaving his. Hands slide up thick thighs, the hair on his legs brushing against your fingertips as you travel further toward the rigid heat of where you need him most. The hitch in his breath is faint, almost nonexistent when your fingers toy with the towel’s edge around his waist. You only wait a moment, three seconds too many as your hand undoes the tight knot and the towel pools at his feet and your knees on the floor.

He’s just as he always is—thick and heavy from your proximity alone, hard and filled with the blood that pumps wildly in his veins. When you wrap your hand around him, the heft of his cock makes your cunt squeeze. You know exactly what it feels like to have the most intimate part of him carving out your insides, and god do you need it right now.

You give only one stroke and the effect is instant; Nanami hisses, fingers flexing at his sides, extending and then curling in a fist as a means to keep his hands to himself, the head of his mushroom tip red and prickles with a thick gathering of precum. Just the sight makes your mouth water.

“I found those things in your closet, you know,” you purr softly, stroking him at an excruciating pace. “You actually think you need something like that, baby?”

A flush creeps up Nanami’s neck, blooming across his cheeks in rushing embarrassment even though his pupils are dilated from the sight of you on your knees. He opens his mouth to speak, fumbling for words that choke around another hitch with your next stroke.

“You don’t feel like you would need something like that.” And you don’t wait a second longer, opening your mouth, dragging the flat of your tongue up the backside of his cock. Each taste bud slides against rigid bumps of veins, gathering with more spit as he groans from your attention. You offer a gentle kiss to his tip, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. “You sure don’t taste like you would need something like that.”

The rise and fall of his chest is quickly leaving the pace of steady, his eyes locked on you and jaw flexing with growing desperation. You squeeze his cock on an upward stroke, your own body beginning to heat up just from watching him fall apart.

“Look at you now,” you tease, widening the gap between your knees, the heat between your legs radiating against your ankles. “You don’t look like you need help. Responding so beautifully to me. Not a hint of hesitation.”

The velvety hardness of him in your palm twitches from your words, hard steel that’s blazing hot, and just the sight of him above you is more than enough for a whine to build in your belly, an innate urge to have any part of him inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes flutter, long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones as you lean in. When you finally take him into your mouth, your name falls from his lips like a prayer, brown eyes rolling halfway to the back of his head, eyebrows furrowing in equal confusion and pleasure.

You’re too eager to give him time to adjust—tongue swirling around the crown of his head and softening underneath him before building a nice, slobbery rhythm. In and out, in and out. Every stroke of your mouth around his cock makes your mouth water even more and your body relax, the dig of the tile on your knees forgotten.

“Fuck,” he pants, the rare curse slipping from his lips as one hand comes to rest gently on the back of your head. You hum in appreciation—in encouragement—building his confidence to squeeze the curly strands. The vibration of your hum of attention causes Nanami’s hips to buck involuntarily and you let your throat relax without thinking, let him hit the back before you swallow around him. “I-” he bites his lip, groaning from deep in his chest.

The heat of the bathroom is suffocating, your neck covered in curls prickling with sweat, sliding down your clavicle and onto the towel around your breasts that’s quickly loosening. Or maybe it’s your own body burning from the inside out, your blood pounding and surging to your core, swelling with arousal that leaks from you without even touching yourself.

And you’re dripping. The hand not at the base of him—stroking what you can’t swallow—reaches between your thighs, rubbing a clit that’s sopping wet with slick that drips between your fingers and onto the tile floor.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar ache to build in your jaw, a growing reminder of the thick cock between your mouth. But his throaty moans keep you going, keep your cunt pulsing and squeezing around the two fingers that quickly slide inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes, dark with desire, take you in—your messy hand twisting at the base of his cock, the hint of saliva on your chin, the prickle of tears at the corners of your eyes from the way he keeps hitting the back of your throat. Only he gets to see you like this. Only he gets to be with someone who will stop at nothing to make him feel supported and loved over something as trivial as a night of bad luck.

“I…you’re…” he gasps, unable to complete his thoughts when you moan around him. “Please just—just keep…don’t stop…don’t—”

As the tension builds, Nanami’s control begins to slip. His thrusts lose their measured control, the hands in your hair tighten, the quick breath from his mouth becomes tight as he bares his teeth and fucks your mouth. His abs are glistening with sweat, tight and flexing as he fights to stay sane.

You’re ready to burst from the seams, pleasure coiling at the base of your spine with each curl of your fingers inside of you, moans tight and sporadic in a familiar sign of your impending orgasm.

It’s when his eyes catch you fingering yourself that his control snaps in half, setting him off. He’s grabbing at you, yanking you from your knees with a strength that shocks you, your towel finally falling off your body and exposing you to the heat of the bathroom. Before you can protest, Nanami moves in a flourish, the last threads of his control dissolving at the shocked but excited gasp that leaves your lips.

In one fluid motion, he spins you around to face the bathroom mirror. Your breath catches at the sight of you both—flushed, desire-drunk, tanned and freckled muscles pressed against your back. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, a primal hunger burning in their depths, black eating away the warm brown.

The press of his cock against your lower back makes you arch your back, leaning over the counter without a second thought, taking him in through the mirror. His hands roam over your body with renewed confidence, cupping the heaviness of your breasts, sliding down tiger-striped brown skin to grip your hips. His eyes trail over the mess of curls on your sweaty back, the curve of your ass, the glistening of your cunt as it catches in the bathroom light.

He looks focused, almost angry—determined to make sure he does exactly what he’s supposed to do. Your body shivers in anticipation. This is the Nanami you’ve been missing—strong, confident, and utterly, deliciously yours.

Without preamble, you part your legs more, opening yourself up to his leering gaze as he watches you slide two fingers through your sopping folds. “I need you,” you whisper, your other hand kneading the flesh of a breast, pinching the nipple to make you arch your back more into him.

He presses forward at the sound of your voice, a beacon for him to bring you whatever you desire. “You have me.”

You feel him, hot and hard against you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes you. “All of you Kento,” you whimper, pushing back against him and stroking your clit faster, your slick sliding down your fingers to the center of your palm. “No more holding back, no more doubts. Show me how much you want me.”

In the mirror, the trepidation in his eyes, the worry between his brows. The disappointment from that night is surely playing in his head, teasing him evilly that he will never be able to make love to you again. But you won’t let him feel that way again, you’ll never let him feel inadequate. So you turn slightly to reach behind you, smooth a hand up the side of his face, caressing his jaw, angling your head to the side to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect,” you breathe, the words barely a whisper between you both, the perfect combination to relax the subtle tension in his shoulders. “So perfect for me, Kento.”

He releases a shaky exhale against your lips from your words, the vibration traveling through your body where you’re pressed together. With one hand braced on your waist, the other guiding himself, his eyes not leaving yours, Nanami pushes into you slowly. Finally. Twenty-five days too late and the feeling of completeness, of absolute rightness, is overwhelming. It’s as if a missing piece of you has been slotted back into place.

You whimper, panting into his mouth, sliding your lips messily against his. Your body stretches to accommodate him, a delicious burn that makes your toes curl and your cunt pulse around him.

“Oh fuck, Kento,” you keen, “you’re so fucking big—fill me so well—” His hips snap forward, cutting you off, a sharp cry punching from your lungs.

“I-I shouldn’t have—” he pants against your lips, ready to apologize from the force but you don’t let him finish.

“Yes,” you encourage, your voice breathy from the delicious zing of pleasure that throbs between your legs. “You feel amazing, Ken. So perfect.”

He shivers from your words and starts a slow, almost tentative rhythm. But your continued praise spurs him on. His thrusts become more confident, more forceful, driving you both higher in the stifling heat of your bathroom.

The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slick smack of skin on skin, breathless moans from his full lips, whispered praises from your mouth.

“So good,” you moan softly. “You feel so good inside me.” The hand on your clit resumes its pace, wanting Nanami to be fully immersed in focusing so he can get past this terrible roadblock in his mind.

“More,” he demands, kissing you deeply, the side of your jaw, nibbling your ear, begging you silently for more love and praise. “I-I have to know I’m doing well. That I’m making you feel good—"

“You are,” you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips as he hits that spot deep inside you that makes white spots blot the edges of your vision. “You are—you are, Kento—shit fuck me harder. Give it to me.”

He bends to your will immediately, the pull of your voice—of your demands as easy as breathing, and he’ll give whatever it takes to make sure he can lay everything at your feet. “Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingers into the meat behind your knee, yanking it up onto the counter and you’re opening more, wider for him to slide in further.

It’s messy and animalistic, a building of sweat between your sliding bodies, a gradual intensifying thrum between your legs with each smack of his balls against you. Your body jerks with each thrust, pleasure scratching down your skin with sharp nails as your mind grows hazy, mouth falling open as the tip of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, over and over and over with each inward stroke. The hand on your clit flies up to grab the sweaty porcelain of the sink in front of you, fingernails digging into the rubbery sealant along the sides. The other hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair.

You’ve gone almost a month without him in the most primal way and your body is struggling to keep up. Your lungs struggle to pull in enough air, your slick-coated fingers slip against the sink, your hips burn from the open angle of one leg up on the counter.

But you can’t bring it in yourself to care, too deep in bliss to worry about your wellbeing, the pressure at the base of your spine building and building, molten pleasure bubbling in your gut as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” you gasp as you both climb together, meeting his thrusts as the tension coils tighter in your core. “You’re so strong. Love me so well. Fuck me so well.” Nanami groans harshly, shivering from your praise, reaching down to stroke your neglected clit, and you tense around him, choking at the pleasure that wraps around your throat, your cunt pulsing as it tries to swallow his cock and never let it leave.

You watch in the mirror as Nanami loses himself in the moment, all his doubts and insecurities forgotten. His face is a mask of pleasure and concentration, his body moving with a grace and power that takes your breath away. His hips falter, stuttering briefly to signal his match of mounting pleasure. He leans over you, his face in the crease of your neck, body bowing over to make you press further into the counter, teeth grazing your skin as he groans and pants against you with feral need.

He presses his fingers harder against your clit, rubs with a practiced motion and you’re tensing against the counter, scrambling for purchase on the sink as high-pitched keens shake from your throat. “Fuck right there, Kentooo,” you moan tightly. He moans harshly into the skin of your neck, relishing in the way your hot and wet walls tighten around him, doubling down, the fingers on your waist digging crescent moons into your skin. “Make me cum. Oh fuck, make me cum pleasepleaseplease—”

The hand in his hair tightens around silky strands, your body tenses up, your nose scrunching, pleasure pulsing and building in your cunt as you climb and climb and climb until you shatter.

A cry of his name, loud and primal, rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Ecstasy floods your system in overwhelming waves, each one threatening to pull you under. Tears gather in the corners of your tightly shut eyes, born from the sheer intensity of your release.

And like always, your pulsing walls are the final push Nanami needs. He thrusts into you harshly with deep punctuating strokes until his balls draw tight, fingers digging deeper, a deep, guttural groan shaking from his body as he finally climbs up that wall of shame and follows you over the edge, his release pulsing hot and deep inside you as your body continues to shudder with aftershocks.

Nanami doesn’t have the energy to pull out, collapsing onto you without grace. The cool counter against your cheek is a balm for your burning skin. As you both come down from your high, trembling and panting, you stroke his scalp with the hand still twisted in his sweaty hair, fading spots behind closed eyelids painting your vision.

After a few moments, Nanami stirs, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder before carefully withdrawing from your body. You whimper at the loss, but he soothes you with another soft kiss on your temple. You hear the sound of running water, the tub filling slowly as Nanami retrieves a warm, damp washcloth.

With tender care, he cleans you up, the soft cloth gliding over your sensitive skin. His touch is reverent, worshipful, as if he’s handling something precious beyond measure, and you melt further onto the counter. Once you’re clean, he guides your leg down from the counter, massaging the muscles of your hips and thighs to ease any lingering tension.

You let him lead you to the tub, sighing in bliss as you sink in the hot, soothing water. Nanami climbs in behind you, pulling you back against his chest as he settles you between his legs. The heat seeps into your aching muscles, the steam smelling faintly of lavender, the gentle lapping of the water against your skin a soothing lullaby.

For a long moment, you simply rest together, your head tipped back on his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as a thumb strokes the skin. The bathroom is quiet, save for the occasional drip of the faucet and your slow, even breathing.

Your mind drifts to the vulnerability you’ve witnessed in Nanami, the raw, unguarded moments he’s bared his deepest fears and insecurities. And only you will be the one to see that. You’ll be the only one to build him back up when he’s stripped down, to remind him of his worth, to love through every storm. Even storms that are as weak and barely damaging as limp dick.

“Thank you,” he finally speaks, rich voice vibrating against your skin, filling you with warmth from the inside out. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply as if to memorize the smell of your leave-in. “For being patient with me…for being supportive…” You feel the tension drain from his body as he exhales, slowly, as if he’s releasing the last of his worries into the steam-filled air. “I love you. Deeply.”

You smile softly to yourself at the declaration and turn your head to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with a mix of adoration and mischief.

“This wasn’t an easy assignment you know,” you tease, your voice lighthearted even as emotion threatens to overwhelm you. “I expect payment for my unwavering devotion.”

Nanami’s eyes, hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, roll playfully, a smile tugging the edges of his lips. “What’s my bill?”

"Moissanite,” you declare matter-of-factly, nestling back against his broad chest with a contented sigh. “The carats are up to you, but—“

“A gold band,” Nanami interjects, warm with affection and certainty. “Emerald cut. I have it memorized, my love.”

He punctuates his words with a tender kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as if he never wants to let go. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, a kaleidoscope of butterflies set free by his words.

“The box in the closet? Throw the penis pump and the Viagra in the trash,” you add, playfully jabbing your elbow into his side. “You won’t be needing those anymore.”

Nanami’s laughter rumbles through you, a deep, satisfying sound that fills the room and washes over your skin like a physical caress. “And if I want to be prepared, just in case?” he counters, his tone light and teasing.

“You’re 28, not 50,” you remind him, your own laughter mingling with his.

“Humor me.”

“I guess I could gather up all the magazines, powders, supplements, and various “aids” and present them to you in a nice box for you to use one day. Of course, you’d be single, so I’m not sure what good they’d do you then.”

Nanami’s body shakes with mirth, his breath puffing warm and sweet against your hair. “In the trash they go.”

You hum in agreement, an eyebrow raised before you tilt your chin. And like always, because you never have to ask, Nanami obliges, his lips slanting over yours in a slow, deep caress that steals your breath and fills your heart all at once.

Thanks for reading!

[oneforthemunny]

all dressed up |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie won't come to a halloween party with you, so you decide to go by yourself... in a costume you know he won't approve of. based off of this prompt :) thank you to whoever sent it in! you can read the rest of my spooky stories series here!

contains: smut. minors dni. language. dom/sub themes- really dom/brat themes lol. all pre-consented ofc. spanking, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex. daddy kink. eddie's a little more of a hard dom in this. mafia themes but nothing graphic.

You saw the mess of curls move behind you once, then again, snapping towards your frame with a fury that had you fighting back a shiver, trying to remain casual and unbothered, applying your lipstick on in the large vanity mirror.

"What are you wearing?"

Your lips pursed, rolling them to keep your own triumphant grin back. His tone, the sharpness and snapping of his words, eyes still boring at you through the mirror; you had him right where you wanted.

"A costume." You hummed, so casual it made Eddie's head spin. Your eyes finally met his in the mirror, calm and vacant of the usual bratty, defiant glare he was expecting. "It's Halloween, Ed. You're supposed to wear a costume."

Eddie's snort follows before you can finish your sentence, posture straightening just enough to look menacing, his own expression still calm but entirely unimpressed. "So you chose to wear that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, dramatic enough that you were sure he saw it- you wanted him to. "What's that supposed to mean?" You eyes narrowed, meeting his challengingly through them mirror, though you didn't turn around to face him.

Eddie nodded slowly, no signs of aggravation, or irritation even at your snarly mood. "Stand up f'me." His voice hardened, slipping into commanding that had your body jolting, eager to please. "Let me get a good look at you. See the whole thing."

You scoffed, despite the rush of excitement that was flooding red hot through your entire body, pushing your small stool back from the vanity. The dress barely covered your ass, resting just below the swell- dangerously short. Eddie's chest roared with possessive furious heat at the thought of you bending over, showing anyone what was between your legs, what belonged to him.

"You look pretty, baby." He didn't miss the way your shoulders fell, slumped with shocked disappointment. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm an angel." You batted your eyes sweetly, a purr to your tone that had Eddie's heart jumping.

"You sure are." Eddie matched your tone, effortlessly flirtatious, lips curling in a half grin.

"I don't have my wings and my halo on yet." You smoothed the white material of your dress down, smoothing out a wrinkle.

"You don't have your dress on either, do you?" Eddie cooed, his tone soft and light. You almost missed his question.

"Yeah I do." You frowned, looking down at your dress. "This is what I'm wearing."

"Oh, baby," Eddie laughed softly, shaking his head. "That's cute, but you're not going out in that."

"Yes, I am." Your voice was fierce, already snapping with fight.

"C'mon," Eddie scoffed with a slight smirk, rolling his eyes lightly like you were so silly, like it was a teasing joke you were playing on him. "You're not wearin' that out, sweet thing. Especially not with me not around. Go on and change into something else."

"I'm not changing." You huffed, nose scrunching with annoyance. "I'm wearing this, and if you don't want me wearing it without you, then you should come. Like you said you would."

Eddie nodded slowly, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek. "I told you, baby, I can't come tonight-"

"-You don't want to come tonight." You snapped. "There's a difference."

"Hm," Eddie hummed, exhaling slowly, eyes still on you so fiercely you were beginning to squirm.

"You said you would come, Ed." Your voice teetered off into a whine, turning to him with pleading eyes.

The same fight you'd had for the past week, since Eddie pulled out of going to Nancy and Jonathan's Halloween party with you, claiming he was "too busy". You knew the truth. That he was uncomfortable being around your friends, people who might judge him, side eye him with fear when he came in.

"No one's going to care that you're there. You're coming with me." You pleaded, trying to rationalize with him.

"I told you, I'm busy." Eddie's tone clipped with harshness, eyes scanning over your frame.

Your lips pressed together, arms crossing over your chest in fury. "Fine." You snapped. "But I'm not changing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." You growled. "I like what I'm wearing, and I think other people will like it too." It was a low blow, one that you knew was risky, might send Eddie over the edge and break his calm exterior- which was exactly what you wanted.

He knew that, which is why he swallowed back the commanding bark in his throat, though you didn't miss the way his nostrils flared.

Nails tapping against your folded arms, your lips twisted. "I thought you'd like what I had on, too." Your tone was still harsh, but filled with an edge of a sultry purr at the end, hands sliding down your hips suggestively. "I thought you liked it when I dressed up for you."

You were definitely playing dirty now, you both knew it. But Eddie allowed it, allowed you to walk towards him, straddling his lap, legs spread and on either side of his spread thighs so your dress rode up, exposing the tiny, lacy white g-string underneath.

"Thought you liked it when I wore a little costume, hm?" Your nose was brushing his, lips tickling when they ghosted over his.

His jaw clenched to keep himself from breaking, to keep from kissing you and pinning you to the mattress, fucking you until you were a pliant mess under him, knees knocking when you walked afterwards, still leaking him down your thighs.

"I do like it." Eddie's voice was strained, swallowing back a flustered shake. "Love it when you dress up f'me, you know that."

You hummed, soft and airy, your hands wrapped around his neck, nails raking over his skin. "So come with me tonight. See me all dressed up." Your lips brushed over his, just light enough to drive him wild, have his hands twitching.

"You don't even have to dress up, Ed. Just come with me." You grinned, nipping at his bottom lip, smug at how his breath hitched. "I'll be dressed up enough for the both of us."

"Not in that dress, you won't." Eddie's eyes met yours, hard with challenge. "Told you, you're not wearing that dress out."

You blinked at him, scoffing before pushing back, sitting back on the tops of his thighs. Eddie couldn't help but look under your parted legs, lacy panties fully on display and barely covering your slit.

"Yeah? You won't be there to stop me from wearing it." You snarled, pulling your legs down onto the red carpet beneath you with a stomp.

"I'll wear whatever I want." You growled, standing between Eddie's legs, pushing the dress back down and into place, smoothing out the wrinkles. Your gaze met his, eyes narrowed with anger, a gentle snarl on your lips that told him your were about to say something mean.

"Maybe I'll find someone there who actually appreciates my costume." You turned with a scoff, barely stepping out from between Eddie's legs before a strong hand caught your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

A gasp tore from your chest, shocking realization flooding your system as Eddie hauled you over his knee, pinning each of your wrists to the small of your with his hand effortlessly.

"Wait! Wait! Eddie-" You squirmed frantically, trying to loosen his grip while he wasted no time shoving your dress up, leaving you bare in your tiny panties.

"Wait, no, I-I'll change, Ed. I was just- oh!" You squealed at the impact, his hand leaving a stinging impact on your left ass cheek.

Eddie didn't lecture you, didn't coo at you until you were sniffly and babbling while he spanked you. Instead, he stayed silent. delivering thundering hits to your backside, heavily focusing on the underside where your thighs met your ass- where he knew people could see the lasting handprints in your dress. It was calculated and mean, left your sniffling and wailing with each hit, shamelessly soaked and grinding onto his leg.

"I'll change! I'll change my outfit!" You wailed, hips lifting and thrashing to the right, trying to twist and avoid his burning assault on your ass.

"Stop it, Ed! I said I'll change!" You huffed, stomping your foot onto the ground, bratty and demanding. Eddie's cock strained behind his dress pants at the sound, delivering another hard spank to the center of your ass, that echoed through the room with a resounding clap.

"Stooop!" You whined, high pitched and nasally, wriggling in his grip. "You're gonna r-ruin my makeup!" You could feel the prickling of a sob threatening to take over, a floodgate that would be much worse than the few tears that had already slipped out.

"I'll be good! I'll change my dress! Ok? I will, Ed!" You howled at the next two blows, leaving your spine arching, lifting off the silk sheets.

"Look at me." Eddie finally spoke in a gravelly growl, his free hand catching your jaw, holding you up to look at him. Your eyes shifted to his, blinking back tears and fighting back wet, pitiful sniffles.

"You gonna listen to me now? Ready to be good for me?" Eddie's voice still wasn't in it's usual coo, but softer than before, leaving your lip wobbling.

"Yes," Your voice squeaked, teary though you tried to fight it.

"What do you say to Daddy?" Eddie lifted a brow, sternness still in his features. "For being so mean before, what do you say? Hm? What do good girls say when they've been mean and bad?"

"'M sorry." You muttered, eyes dropping from his gaze with bashful shame.

"Look at me." Eddie growled, hand tightening around your jaw lightly. "You know better. Need me to take you in the office, hm? Go get the paddle?"

"No," You tried to shake your head, stiffened by his grasp.

"Then what do you say? Let me hear you, loud and clear. And you better keep those eyes on me when you say it. You know how you're supposed to do it." Eddie's voice was harsh, enough to leave you shaking with fear and pleasure, throbbing between your legs. He didn't miss the way your hips rocked down on his leg when he spoke to you.

"I-I'm sorry." Your pitch raised, voice wobbling when you spoke up, your eyes locked on his. "I won't be mean anymore, Daddy. I'll be good. I-I promise."

Eddie hummed, satisfied, his grip loosening on your cheeks, letting go of your hands. Your arms ached, wrist rubbed sore from the chafing of skin on skin. Eddie settled you back, perched on the edge of his thigh, fighting back a grin when you hissed at your raw backside touching his pants.

"That's a good girl. That's my good girl." Eddie cooed softly, pulling you into his chest, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. "You know I hate having to be mean to you like that, but you have to listen to my rules, baby."

"I-I know." Your hiccupy voice was soft, chest heaving with a cry you were still trying to swallow. "I just... I really want you to come with me tonight, Ed." You squeaked, tilting your head back to look at him.

"I know you don't want to, but... it would mean a lot to me if you did." You whispered, fingers nervously toying with the edge of his shirt. "I just want to be with you and my friends. I don't-I don't like it having to be separate all the time. I just want one night where- where it feels normal."

Eddie's chest ached, pulling you closer to him. He was going soft, he was sure of it. Soft and ruined completely by you- not that he minded.

"I'll go with you tonight." Eddie hesitated, eyes flickering down to yours carefully, watching yours fill with excitement, lighting up at his words. "But, I'm having Gareth and Max wait outside. In case any shit happens-"

"-It won't-"

"-Just incase." Eddie cut you off, giving you a pointed look that had you nodding, curling back into his hold. "And, you're still changing."

You bit back a smile, nodding. "Yeah, probably can't wear this now." You giggled lightly. "Kinda ruined it."

"Oh, sweetheart, I haven't ruined it yet." Eddie grinned, hand squeezing your waist just to hear you squeal before he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you.

"I do like this costume." His lips hovered over yours, curls from his bangs tickling your own forehead, leaving you squirming.

"But I think I want it," His lips pressed to yours, a full kiss that lasted far too shortly for your liking, eyes barely closing in pleasure before he pulled back.

"All," Kiss.

"To," Kiss.

"Myself."

You whined into his mouth, his thigh strategically moving between your legs, bumping with your clothed pussy, teasingly.

"You think you can do that for me?" Eddie's breath ghosted over your lips, dragging over your cheek, pressing a hot, wet kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Think this can be just f'me, baby?"

"Mm-hmm." You whimpered, hands sliding over his shoulders, pulling him back towards you, closer and closer. "Just for you."

"Just for me." Eddie grinned, pressing a kiss to your jaw, teeth grazing barely, leaving you jumping with excitement.

"You do look so pretty though. My pretty girl, always." Eddie praised softly, pushing off the mattress to look at you fully. You whined, fist balling around his shirt, trying to keep him close, flush to you.

Eddie batted them away gently, his hands sliding down your frame to your legs, wrapped around his waist, spreading them gently. "I do think you should keep on these," Eddie rasped, finger tracing over your clothed slit, down the seam of your panties while you arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Please, Ed, please." You begged, mind already spacing with needy pleasure.

"Shh, I got you, baby. I'll take care of you." Eddie soothed you gently, hands cupping under your knees, pushing your thighs back to your chest. "I've got you, sweet thing. Just hold your legs up f'me. Can you do that?"

You nodded eagerly, shaking hands grabbing at your kneecaps, jerking them towards your chest in a tight grip. Eddie grinned, sliding down your frame, knees sinking into the carpet. "Good girl." Eddie growled, hands on your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed, grinning at how you gasped.

His fingers ghosted over your slit again, pressing in and giving a gentle, teasing rub over your aching clit that had you crying out, nails digging into your skin before he finally hooked your panties to the side. Tongue tracing down one lip, down the other, then right to the middle, just a featherlight, teasing that had you squirming in frustration.

You were close to voicing your frustration, the whine caught in your throat when Eddie's face pressed into your cunt, nose brushing with your clit, tongue lapping at your folds. Your hands moved to his hair, pulling him in closer and closer, hips swiveling down, pressing further and further into him. He didn't stop until you were crying out, breathy and broken, babbling on and on, "'m gonna cum, E-Eddie, I'm- oh!" music to his ears.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, stilling himself when he filled you, stuffed full of his cock, grinning at the glassy, love stricken look in your eye. "You are an angel, hm? The prettiest fuckin' angel I've ever seen."

Nails sinking into the mattress, you balled the silk sheets in your hand as he started to move, slow but deep rolls of his hips into yours. "I-I don't have my wings on." You babbled brainlessly, mind spinning and reeling with pleasure. "O-Or my- oh! Right there, Ed- Or my halo."

"Don't need it." Eddie sucked a breath in between gritted teeth, his strokes coming faster now, sending your eyes rolling back.

"You're always an angel. Prettiest- fuck- prettiest angel in the world. My pretty angel." Eddie reached for your chin, grabbing it so you looked at him through fluttering lashes. "You're my pretty girl. You know that? You know it, don't you, baby?"

"Ye-Yes." You clenched at his words, and for a moment, he saw stars, letting out a deep groan of pleasure.

"Let me hear you." Eddie's grip tightened around your jaw. "I wanna hear you say it. Say you're my pretty girl."

"I-I'm yours, Ed." Your head tilted back, tummy tightening as you teetered closer and closer to your orgasm.

The small slap to your cheek had you gasping, attention pulled back to Eddie. His brows furrowed, lips in a tight, concentrated line. "That's not what I said." Eddie shook his head. "Thought you were gonna listen to Daddy?"

"I-I am." You whined, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling Eddie in closer to you.

"Then do what I said." Eddie tilted his head towards you, looking down the slope of his nose at you. "Say it. I wanna hear you."

You bit back a whimper, gasping at a particularly perfect stroke that had your vision blurring. "I-I'm you're pretty girl."

"Who's pretty girl?" Eddie coaxed, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. His breath ragged, chest starting to heave- you knew he was close too.

"Y-Yours." You choked out, tears of pleasure brimming your waterline.

"That's right." Eddie growled, folding himself over top of you, lips catching yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand slid between your bodies, circling your clit just right until you were writhing, scratching down his skin as you came undone, his own release following shortly after.

You were late to the party.

Not that either of you minded, really. And it wasn't like anyone there dared to say anything either. Even Nancy, who just gave you a wide smile when she opened the door.

"You made it!" She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry. We had to take the dogs out." You lied easily, eyes cutting over to Eddie's with a small smile.

Nancy's brow raised gently, though she said nothing. "H-Hey, Eddie." You didn't miss the way her grip tightened on the door, opening it wider so you two could walk in. "Glad you could come."

"Yeah. Thanks for havin' me." Eddie nodded, stiff with an unusual uncomfortableness. He felt awkward being in his street clothes- ripped jeans and chains, a band tee (a Dio shirt you claimed would be perfect- "a devil and an angel!"), instead of the usual designer wear he'd grown so accustomed to. He felt truly back in high school, just as nervous as he was then.

Your hand slid down the leather of his jacket, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Um, well, drinks and snacks are in the kitchen- you know where the kitchen is." Nancy looked at you with a nod, the music growing louder and louder as soon as you entered the house.

You followed her through the house, passing by the numerous people, ignoring how they'd stop, still, eyes wide and stare when Eddie passed, whispering in shushed tones behind your back.

"Help yourself to whatever." Nancy smiled, motioning to the array of alcohol. "I got you Bacardi Breezers, a whole pack." She gave you a teasing smile.

You laughed back, shaking your head, giving a slight shiver. "Oh, great. It'll be just like senior year all over again." You smirked. Eddie's interest piqued, though he kept his gaze nonchalant, scanning the room, making a mental note to ask you about that later.

"I'm gonna go make sure no one's broke anything, but I'll be right back." Nancy nodded, giving your arms a gentle squeeze, before shimmying through the crowds of people.

"You want anything?" You asked, reaching for the colorful glass bottle out of the pack.

"No." Eddie shook his head.

"Not even a beer?" You lifted a brow, turning back to him. "They have Miller."

"I'm good, baby." Eddie nodded sweetly, eyes catching with a guy who was staring, narrowing his gaze just barely before he looked aways. "You get whatever you want."

You looked over at him, twisting the bottle in your hand. "Can you open this?"

Eddie obliged, of course, cracking it on his belt buckle- a trick he learned from years ago, from when he still saw half of these people every day in the hell that was high school.

You took him to the living room, finding a corner tucked away from the beer pong set up in the middle, the people drunkenly dancing and chatting.

Eddie sat down in the small arm chair, hand around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You hissed, face crumpling for a moment, wiggling to a comfortable spot.

"You hurting?" Eddie frowned, head ducking towards you.

"No, I just forgot." You muttered, bashfully. "I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?" Eddie lifted a brow.

"You know I would." You smiled reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I think I like this dress better." You looked down at the long, silk, white dress you'd swapped the other out for. "Looks more angelic."

"Anything you put on looks angelic, baby." Eddie grinned playfully, positively sweet and silly. His face fell after a moment, scanning the room, looking to make sure no one was watching- he couldn't dare have someone see him like this, boyish and silly and so, so in love.

You giggled, pressing the bottle to your lips, taking a quick swig. "Thank you for coming with me." You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the feathers of your halo headpiece tickling chin.

"C'mon," Eddie muttered lightly, squeezing your hip. "Do anything for you, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie nodded, looking down at you. "You've ruined me. Made me soft."

You giggled, pulling back to look at him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"For you? No." Eddie grinned softly. "Best thing that's ever happened to me. You know that."

You beamed under his praise, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into a sloppy make out right there in the corner of the party, and Eddie felt like he was sixteen again.

"You're so sweet." You hummed, starry eyed and airy when you pulled apart. "So good to me."

"You deserve it." Eddie muttered, cheeks pricking with a heat he couldn't fight off. "Plus, this isn't all bad. Better than I thought it would be." He looked around the room. You both seemed to blend in, get lost in the crowd now, everyone else doing their own thing while you watched.

"Really?" You grinned widely. "Told you it would be fun."

"Yeah, you were right." Eddie nodded, eyes rolling down your frame. "Plus you were right, I do love to see you in a costume." He growled, leaving you squealing with giggles.

[nemo-writes]

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖿 141 𝗆𝖾𝗇 ── .✦

masterlist

── .✦ 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍

the couch is comfy, the lights are low, and you've just started this week's episode of the great british bake off. simon sits beside you, eyes half-focused on his phone, thumb scrolling. your feet rest on his lap, his free hand absently tracing circles on your ankle. he seems entirely uninterested, barely looking up at the screen as you comment on the contestants’ desserts.

for the first twenty minutes, he’s quiet, only glancing up occasionally, but then someone messes up their cake, and he lets out a low snort. he mutters, "did they not put it in long enough or what?"

it’s a small crack, but it’s enough to make you smile. "guess they didn't. timing is everything, right?" you tease, knowing full well he’s starting to pay attention.

in the next challenge, a contestant fumbles with a piping bag, and simon lets out an unimpressed tsk, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “how can they not know how to pipe a line straight?” he scoffs. "basic stuff."

you laugh. "i didn’t know you were such an expert."

he grumbles, still keeping his eye on the show, now feigning casual disinterest but failing miserably. as the episode progresses, he starts asking more questions, wanting to know the contestants’ names, who’s been there longest, and who has been star baker.

when the star baker is announced, he nods his head in approval, as if he saw it coming all along. he shifts his gaze to you, smirking at your amused expression.

“see? knew they had it in ‘em,” he murmurs, squeezing your ankle gently.

you raise an eyebrow, playing along. “so you’re an expert now?”

instead of answering, he leans over, his hand still wrapped around your ankle, to presses a kiss to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you can’t help but laugh as he nuzzles closer, his tone dropping to a playful murmur. “might have to make you something better than all that… if you’re lucky.”

his lips linger, making you laugh again, your fingers brushing his jaw. simon may be a fierce critic, but at this moment, he’s more than content to just savor this quiet time with you.

── .✦ 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗉

from the second the episode starts, johnny's practically buzzing beside you. he’s been all in on the great british bake off since day one, and tonight is no exception. every time his favorite contestant, a sweet scottish lady with a knack for old-school recipes, appears on screen, he perks up, practically bouncing on the edge of his seat.

when she starts her bake, he mutters words of encouragement under his breath. "c'mon, hen, show 'em what a real baker looks like." and when one of her rivals stumbles, he grins, clapping his hands together. “ach, my nan could beat the lot of them in her sleep! they’ve got nothin’ on her shortbread.”

as the judging rounds begin, his excitement ramps up. his favorite contestant gets a compliment, and he yells, clapping loud enough to startle you. “there ye go, lass!” he hollers, and suddenly, he’s grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you in glee. “did ye see that, luv? she’s bloody brilliant!”

by the time they’re announcing the star baker of the week, johnny is practically holding his breath, eyes glued to the screen. when they call her name, he jumps up with a whoop, fists pumping in the air. “yes! that’s it!”

before you know it, he’s pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off the couch in his excitement. he plants a big, wet kiss on your lips, grinning so wide it’s infectious. “didn’t I tell ye? she’s got it all—best baker in the lot, no question.”

you laugh as he sets you down, his enthusiasm contagious. johnny love for the show might be loud and over-the-top, but as he flops back onto the couch, arm still around your shoulders, you can’t help but smile at just how much he’s gotten you invested, too.

── .✦ 𝗀𝖺𝗓

at first, kyle watches the program with an easy, relaxed attitude, barely reacting when the contestants present their bakes. he stretches out, arms resting behind you and smoothing down and up your nape, all while nodding along when you explain the technical challenge, giving little more than a shrug in response.

but as the episode goes on, his interest starts to show. he sits up a bit, leaning in every time the camera shows off a new dessert. when a contestant presents a towering lemon drizzle cake, his eyes light up. “could you make that?” he asks, an excited glimmer sneaking into his voice. “i’ll buy the ingredients and clean everything up, promise.”

you snort, but he’s already pointing at the screen, his tone downright eager. “what about those cinnamon rolls? look at the icing on those.” he’s watching you now with a hopeful smile, like he’s a kid at a bakery window. “come on, love, just think of the smell. i’ll even be your sous chef—whatever you need.”

by the time they’re onto the show-stopper, kyle is all in, leaning forward as contestants knead and roll their creations. every new bake has him asking if it’s something you can try: sourdough, brioche, even the elaborate pastries. “we could have a whole buffet,” he says, only half-joking. “imagine—warm, fresh pastries every day. i’d never go back to store-bought again.”

when the episode finally ends, he’s scrolling through a recipe app on his phone, jotting down a list of things he’s ready to buy. “alright, love,” he says, grinning as he gives you a playful nudge, “you bring the talent, I’ll bring the supplies. deal?”

with his enthusiasm—and his promises to handle cleanup—there’s no way you can resist, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the star baker of the night.

── .✦ 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾

you’ve just settled into a new episode of the great british bake off when john wanders into the room, curious but clearly trying not to look too invested. he stands right in front of the tv, thick arms folded across his chest, watching with a thoughtful frown as contestants start their signature bakes.

you chuckle, leaning forward to get his attention. “love, if you’re gonna watch, at least come sit down. i can’t see a thing.”

he raises a brow, glancing over his shoulder with a little smirk, but he doesn’t move. so, grinning, you reach over and give him a playful smack on the butt with one of the pillows, laughing as he finally grumbles and takes a seat next to you. he watches intently, nodding every so often and making small, approving sounds whenever someone does a particularly good job.

it’s not long before he’s making comments that surprise you with their accuracy. “you know, the rise on that dough’s spot-on. smart move not to rush the proofing,” he says, as if he were one of the judges himself. when a contestant uses too much sugar in a caramel glaze, he clicks his tongue in mild disapproval. “that’ll be sickly. just needs a touch less.”

you blink, impressed, and maybe just a little bit...turned on. “you know a lot about baking, captain.”

he shrugs, scratching his beard with a faint smile on his lips. “just some bits i've picked up,” he says, casual as ever, though you can tell he’s enjoying himself. then, after another thoughtful hum as he watches a contestant start their showstopper, he glances at you. “could give it a go myself, if you want. just say the word.”

you beam, practically bouncing as you loop your arms around his neck “yes! let’s do it!”

he chuckles at your enthusiasm, his hand squeezing your hip gently. “alright then,” he says, a bit amused, a bit serious, “but you’ll have to help out, and no slapping my cake when i’m concentrating.”

banner credit

[wolvietxt]

𝓯orever and 𝓪lways.

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : light angst, crying, fluff, overall chaos, insecurities, hurt / comfort summary : it was finally you and logan’s wedding day, with the pressure mounting and wade’s constant input, you were finding it hard to not let your insecurities get the better of you. wc : 1.3k

it started chaotic, of course. you’d expected nothing less with wade as logan’s best man. he’d been milling around the bridal suite for the past half hour, offering unsolicited advice and increasingly absurd ideas for how to make your grand entrance memorable. currently, he was debating the merits of pyrotechnics versus smoke bombs.

logan must’ve been losing his mind in the groom’s suite, but you hadn’t seen him since the morning. something about tradition, he’d said with a lopsided grin, his hand brushing your cheek. you hadn’t even responded, just kissed him back with the kind of desperation that left your chest aching after he left.

now, though, the reality of what you were about to do started to sink in. a low, rolling wave of panic settled in your stomach, twisting and tightening with every passing second. the dress suddenly felt too tight, the room too warm, and your pulse too fast. you were getting married. to logan. it wasn’t that you didn’t love him - you did, fiercely, wholly - but the weight of forever pressed against your ribs.

“i think i’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, bracing yourself against the vanity. your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and pale.

wade, for once, didn’t crack a joke. his brow furrowed as he stepped closer. “oh, no. cold feet? or, like, bad shrimp in the hors d'oeuvres kind of sick? because i warned logan about those caterers - ”

“wade, please not now,” you whined, more harshly than you intended. you took a shaky breath, trying to ground yourself. “i just… what if i’m not enough for him? what if i ruin this?”

he blinked at you, then broke into a wide grin. “not enough? are you kidding me? have you met logan? that guy would crawl through broken glass for you. wait, no, bad example - he’d heal - but you get my point. he’s crazy about you.”

you looked down at your hands, the diamond on your finger catching the light. wade’s words rang true, but your anxiety wasn’t so easily quelled. “what if i can’t live up to everything he deserves?”

“listen,” wade said, surprisingly gentle, “logan’s no saint. he’s rough around the edges, grumpy as hell, and has a tendency to scare small children with his ‘resting murder face.’ but he loves you, and he’s lucky to have you. trust me.”

you swallowed hard, your heart thudding unevenly. “i just… i don’t want to let him down. i’m really scared, wade.”

before wade could respond, there was a sharp knock on the door. it creaked open slightly, and a familiar voice rumbled, “everything okay in there?”

logan.

your heart jumped, but you didn’t answer immediately. wade, ever the opportunist, took the chance to dart to the door, opening it just wide enough to slip through. “hey, bud. she’s fine. just a little pre-wedding jitters. totally normal. nothing to worry about.”

“wade, move.” logan’s voice was firm, and a second later, he pushed past the mercenary. his eyes landed on you instantly, dark with concern. “you alright, darlin’?”

you wanted to lie, to brush it off and plaster on a smile, but the worry etched into his face undid you. “i don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “i just… i feel like i’m going to mess this up.”

logan stepped closer, his hands finding yours. his touch was warm and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else could. “mess what up?”

“everything,” you whispered. “us. you deserve someone who’s… i don’t know. better.”

he frowned, his grip tightening. “don’t say that. you think i’d be standin’ here, about to marry you, if i didn’t know exactly what i was gettin’? i don’t need perfect, sweetheart. i just need you.”

his words hit you like a freight train, and tears pricked at your eyes. “but what if - ”

“no what-ifs,” he interrupted gently. “you’re it for me. always have been, always will be.”

your chest ached with the weight of his sincerity. you reached up, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his stubble rough against your palm. “are you sure about this?”

logan huffed a soft laugh, his lips curving into a small, crooked smile. “damn right i am.”

behind him, wade cleared his throat obnoxiously. “as touching as this is, we’re on a schedule, lovebirds. chop-chop.”

logan shot him a glare but didn’t let go of your hands. “you ready?” he asked, his voice low, meant just for you.

you nodded, the last of your nerves dissolving under the warmth of his gaze. “yeah. i’m ready.”

the ceremony went off without a hitch - mostly. wade’s toast was predictably chaotic, filled with inappropriate jokes and just enough genuine sentiment to make you and logan laugh. the vows, though, were what stayed with you. logan’s voice had been steady but rough with emotion, his words simple yet profound. he’d promised to be by your side, to fight for you, to love you with everything he had. you’d barely managed to get through your own vows without crying, your voice trembling as you told him he was your home, your heart, your everything.

later, as the night wound down and the guests filtered out, you found yourselves alone under the soft glow of the string lights. the reception had been beautiful, but this moment - just the two of you - felt perfect.

logan pulled you close, his hands resting on your hips as you swayed together. “you know,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple, “i was nervous too.”

you looked up at him, surprised. “you were?”

“yeah.” his lips twitched into a faint smile. “not about marryin’ you, though. that was the easy part. just wanted to make sure it was everything you wanted.”

your heart squeezed at his words. “it was perfect, logan. you were perfect.”

he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. it was slow and sweet, filled with all the love he couldn’t quite put into words. when he pulled back, his eyes were soft, a rare vulnerability shining through.

“i love you,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “more than anything.”

tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of happiness. “i love you too.”

logan smirked, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. “good. ‘cause you know you’re stuck with me now.”

you laughed, resting your head against his chest as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

ᰔ logan howlett : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen, @tezooks

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @urlocallocachica, @person-005, @nestavadavat

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [HALF ASLEEP TAKIN' CHANCES] ❞

pairing: hotch x sitter!reader. summary: there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter. so he finds you. and then he gets home to you adorably sleeping with jack on the couch to spider-man.  content warnings: disgustingly cute fluff word count: 1,1k a/n: requested by baby boy @starch1ldz

      When Aaron offered to financially help with Jessica and Haley’s father he didn’t think through about how much time would be a new issue, with him around Jessica had no time to come and babysit Jack like before, especially in a rush.

      Jack was older, sure, but that didn’t mean Aaron was about to leave a 10-year-old alone while he was working–that’s why there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter. 

      Trustworthy, smart enough to help his boy with homework and school projects, available to sleep in and possibly not an eye/hr was a tough find, but with Garcia’s help… He found you. 

      It’s about 3AM when he finally gets home this time around, 11 days melting away in Texas, communicating with you through texts and facetiming with Jack every morning for at least a few minutes being his saving grace, his breath of fresh air when evil corners him in. 

      Aaron expects to find a dark, quiet living room when his keys hit the door, he expects to gulp down some scotch, check on Jack from afar and then drop to his bed. 

      Instead, he is met with lights from the ceiling and from the TV that is blasting what appears to be a Spider-Man cartoon. Out of habit he frowns, quietly closing and locking the door behind him and leaving his bag on the floor. His steps towards the TV are as silent as possible against the wood of the floor, not that it would matter with all the noise coming from it. 

      Glancing the room before turning it off he is surprised by what he thinks it’s the most beautiful image he has seen in the longest time. You and Jack both asleep on the couch. Jack is facing the TV, but one of his arms are hugging one of yours fiercely. Your nose is up his hair, your other arm under the both of you and he doesn’t know how you haven’t felt it numb yet. Aaron leans into the wall careful not to make any noise, desiring nothing more than to take in this moment just a little bit more. The beauty in it, the peace and quiet. 

      He wishes he could take an actual picture without being a creep, but he will settle for a mental one for now. For some time all Aaron could think about was his boy, his happiness, his safety, his comfort, and Jack found it so easily in you that it was impossible for Aaron to not feel the same. You were warm, welcoming… Kind. 

      The sudden lack of sound when he turns the TV off wakes you up and you luckily have the self control not to get up in a startle, looking up with a smile and half opened eyes, your voice as low as possible not to spook the not so little one beside you in case he also ended up waking up. 

      “You’re home early.” You tease, sleepiness lacing your words, adoration clear in your eyes.

      Aaron only grins, crouching in front of his boy to admire his creation a bit more, safe and sound like that, he passes his hand through Jack’s forehead and hair to wake him up which he does in a jump much more loudly than yourself, hugging his dad happily. 

      “Hey buddy, let’s get you to bed?” At ten Jack isn’t as easy to carry as he once was, but Aaron still does it, especially when he’s this sleepy, especially when he hasn’t seen him in days. He hugs him tightly and softly strokes his hair as he takes him to his bedroom. 

      Jack wants to tell him all about his day, about his week and the cartoon he was watching just before he fell asleep, but Aaron is quick to remind him of the time, turning off his night lamp and kissing his forehead goodnight. He’s sure the boy is sound asleep once more before he even leaves the room. 

      He’s finally able to get his tie off of him, leaving it on the table as he gets you and himself scotch, his jacket is already buried in his go bag, not once having been worn in San Antonio’s heat. He hands you the glass, fingers brushing lightly before he settles himself leaning into the back of the couch. 

      “Was he difficult today?” His question almost breaks your heart, for as long as you know Jack, he has never been difficult, especially considering everything he’s been through at such a young age. But you understand his query means well and is about the fact Jack wasn’t in his bed at such late hours. 

      “Never difficult.” You answer it quickly, taking a sip of the scotch, it’s a bit too strong to you at most times, but you enjoy it before bed and the taste reminds you of Hotch. “He’s just been a bit… Skittish since the framing incident… Some nightmares. It happens less when he falls asleep with me first before going to bed.” 

      It almost feels like Aaron could cry at any minute at your revelation, a very different sight to what you’re used to from him. He’s very much the strong alpha male, unbreakable, a survivor, the most you get from him is his dry humor and the occasional opening up about his past–which you already adore–but the way his eyes glisten right now is completely… New. 

      You care, it’s in your job description, in your resume, in your heart. So you take two steps too close, your free hand going to his cheek as if its warmth could be enough to help him feel better. And it is, he leans into it, his eyes closed, his hand holding your wrist.

      “He’s fine, really. Doing great in school, excited for therapy days. Don’t make that terrible guilty father face. You’re a great dad, my salary attests to that.” You’re almost ashamed at the feeling you get when you’re able to make him laugh, but you’re definitely ashamed at how you mourn the feeling of his hand when he drops your wrist and you feel obligated to drop your hand. You finish the rest of the scotch in a mouthful and he does the same. 

      “Thanks for being here so much, Jack needs it. To be honest, I need it.” Aaron’s not even sure what he’s really admitting to, he just knows life has been incredibly easier and stable since you began taking care of Jack, and he feels silly for feeling the way he does, because he knows it’s your job, but he hopes his profiler abilities aren’t failing him when he looks into your eyes. 

      “Well, thanks for hiring me.” Your answer is merely a joke, used to hide your red cheeks and the way one of your hands went straight to your necklace, playing with it nervously. 

      Aaron notices it, he smiles to himself but doesn’t do anything about it. For now it’s enough to come home and find you safe and sound sleeping embraced with his boy. If anything more comes of it, he’ll let future Aaron make something of it. 

[chimcess]

⮞ Teaser Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Coach!Yoongi, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Drop Date: 01/20/2025 Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player.

I never used to think about what came after. Why would I? It felt pointless, like trying to guess the end of a novel when you’re still tangled in the middle. Every chapter rushing by, barely letting you catch your breath. Sometimes, life dangled a dream so vivid, so close, you could almost feel it in your hands. But right when you thought you had it? That’s when life reminded you—pages stop turning. Lights flick off. And suddenly, you’re back in the grind, stuck right where you started.

Normal? No chance. I wouldn’t recognize normal if it jumped out of the shadows and hit me. Normal was for people who punched clocks and sipped lukewarm coffee in beige cubicles. My mornings started when the world was still dark—lacing up my skates, the cold air biting at my face. Stretch until the pain dulled, practice until my routines were burned into my mind like a broken record. The rink smelled like sweat, frost, and desperation, clinging to me as I chased that perfect moment, day in and day out.

That was my life. Until it wasn’t.

From the moment I took my first steps, the ice had been my escape. My personal sanctuary. Each time my skates touched the frozen surface, electricity sparked through me, alive in my bones. My mom, Emily, she saw it first. She recognized that fire in me and latched on, pulling me headfirst into the competitive skating world. She wasn’t just supportive—she was relentless, like a storm barreling down on me, pushing me to be perfect. To her, maybe that was all that mattered.

People whispered behind her back, saying she was living vicariously through me, chasing dreams she’d lost. But I didn’t resent her for it. Her ambition, fierce and all-consuming, burned like a fire. It kept me warm—even when it scorched me. It wasn’t the trophies or the standing ovations that drove me. It was the ice itself. Out there, I wasn’t just a name on a roster. I was free.

Emily had been a skater once, too. But life, cruel and chaotic, had other plans. Her dreams fizzled out, lost somewhere between time and circumstance. When she got pregnant with me, she married my dad, Jim, and watched her ambitions wither like dead leaves. Year by year, regret settled in, until all she had left was me—and the ice. I became her second chance.

She met Jim when she was still a bright-eyed girl in a small town, dreaming big. He came to Michigan for police training; she was restless, yearning for more. They fell in love—or something close to it. Soon enough, I came along, and after a quick courthouse wedding, our lives unraveled. Emily and I left Michigan for Colorado, chasing skating dreams. Jim drifted back to Olympia, Washington, sinking into his routine like it was quicksand.

I became the bridge between them, constantly tugged between my dad’s predictable world and my mom’s fierce drive. Stability—something I longed for—was never in the cards. Emily hated Michigan, so we stayed away. Jim became less of a father and more of a ghost.

The crackle of the intercom yanked me from my thoughts. My knee throbbed, a bitter reminder.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re starting our descent into Detroit, where it’s currently five-eighteen p.m., and a frigid fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. Please secure your belongings.”

Michigan. I was back, but it didn’t feel like home. It hadn’t for years. And yet, here I was. Family wasn’t a refuge—not with Jim. He felt more like a stranger now, a shadow of someone I used to know. The home we once had? Long gone.

Monday, I’d meet with Dr. Jeon. People swore he was the best, but deep down, I already knew none of it mattered. The moment my skate hit that rough patch of ice, when my body twisted and the world flipped upside down, I knew—my skating days were over.

I could still see it. The rink, bathed in soft afternoon light, the sound of *Swan Lake* floating through the air. I wasn’t competing that day, just skating for the sheer joy of it. Emily and my coach were in the bleachers, discussing my next routine. I built up speed, heading into a fan spiral, when it happened. My blade caught. My leg buckled. I hit the ice hard. Everything went dark.

The plane’s landing gear screeched, snapping me back to the present. My heart raced, the memory fading like smoke. As the plane stopped, passengers scrambled for their bags. I waited, letting them pass, before grabbing my things. The crutches in my hands were cold, unfamiliar. I used to glide effortlessly across the ice, and now, here I was—struggling just to stay upright on solid ground.

At baggage claim, I stared at the mountain of luggage, feeling the weight of it all sink in. How was I supposed to manage with no free hands?

“You need a hand?”

The voice startled me. I turned and saw him—tall, with warm brown eyes that somehow felt like they saw right through me. Before I could respond, someone bumped into me, and my crutch clattered to the floor. I wobbled, reaching out to steady myself, but he was faster. He caught me.

For a moment, the noise, the crowd, everything blurred. It was just us, frozen in time.

“You alright?” His voice was soft, steady, his hands still gripping my arms. I nodded, heat flushing my face as I pulled away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I muttered. He bent down, picking up my crutch. As he handed it back, his eyes lingered on me, not with pity, but with something else. Understanding, maybe.

“No problem.” His smile was easy, casual, but there was something behind it, like he had more to say.

Around us, life resumed its frantic pace—people rushing by, voices bouncing off the airport’s high ceilings. But for just a second longer, it was still only us.

“Need help with your bags?” he asked, glancing at the heap of luggage. 

I hesitated, my pride prickling. “I’ve got it,” I said, even though I clearly didn’t. My knee throbbed in protest.

He didn’t push. Just smiled, unbothered, and shrugged. “Alright. But it’s no trouble if you change your mind.”

As I shifted my weight, feeling the twinge in my leg, I sighed. “Okay, yeah, I could use some help.” The words tasted like defeat, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He easily grabbed my suitcase, balancing my smaller bag on top. I clung to my messenger bag, determined to carry something myself.

"Is someone picking you up?" he asked as we walked toward the sliding glass doors, the cold Michigan air sneaking in like a thief in the night.

"No, I'll just grab a cab," I said, weaving through the crowd. His presence next to me felt steady, comforting, like a life raft I didn’t even know I needed. 

“I’ve got my car in the overnight lot,” he offered casually, like it was no big deal. “I could give you a ride if you want.”

For a moment, I hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. “No, it’s okay,” I said, almost too quickly. “A cab’s fine.” But something shifted in his face—just for a second. Disappointment? Or was that just my imagination?

We stepped outside, and the cold hit me like a slap, sharp and biting. I cursed under my breath for not grabbing my gloves. 

He noticed, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile. “Forgot what Michigan feels like in January?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, pulling my coat tighter. “Something like that.” I should’ve been used to it by now. I grew up on ice, for God’s sake. But standing there in the freezing wind felt different, like the cold wasn’t just outside—it was creeping inside me, gnawing at the edges of something deeper.

“So, where were you before this?” he asked, his curiosity genuine, his breath hanging in the air like smoke.

“Nevada. Before that, Colorado. We moved around a lot.” I don’t even know why I was telling him this. I didn’t even know his name.

“We?” He raised an eyebrow, the question soft, but pointed.

“Me and my mom,” I said, my voice quieter now. “She’s never been one to stay put. Wherever she went, I followed.”

He nodded, like he understood more than he should. “A modern-day nomad. Sounds... exhausting.”

I let out a small laugh, more out of habit than anything else. “Yeah, it can be.” But there was something easy about him, something that made this whole conversation feel less strange, less fleeting.

“You staying here for a while?” he asked, his dark eyes locking with mine, the cold forgotten for a moment.

“For the foreseeable future,” I replied, surprising myself with how easily the words slipped out.

“Good to know.” His voice softened, like he was letting me in on some secret only we shared. That crooked smile crept back, and I felt my pulse quicken again. He had no idea what he was doing to me.

I bit my lip, trying to steady the rush of nerves rising in my chest. What was I even doing? Standing here, flirting with a stranger in the dead of winter? This wasn’t real life—it was the stuff of daydreams. But somehow, with him, it felt real. Almost too real.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, his hand lifting to ruffle his hair again. The messy strands fell back into place like he didn’t care—like he knew exactly how disheveled he looked and leaned into it.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed it. The airport, the cold wind—it all seemed to fade away, leaving just us in this strange, fleeting moment.

“You live nearby?” I asked, even though I knew I should’ve been hopping into a cab by now, getting out of this freezing wind and back to whatever was left of my life.

“Detroit,” he said, his breath fogging in the air like a ghost of something lost.

“Me too,” I said, a little too quickly. “Just moved there, actually.”

“Downtown?” He asked it casually, but his eyes were sharp, as if my answer might mean more than I realized.

“Royal Oak,” I said, nodding. “The old houses there... they’re beautiful.”

“They are,” he agreed, and there was something in the way he said it, like he was noticing things I didn’t even realize I was showing. His gaze flicked between my eyes and my lips, and for a moment, the air between us stretched thin, a fragile thread pulling us closer until a sharp gust of wind snapped it, jolting me back to reality.

"Welcome to Michigan," he said with a laugh, his voice warm against the icy air. Without warning, he reached down and took my bare hands in his. The warmth of his touch jolted through me, electric, racing straight to my core. For a second, I swore the ground shifted beneath us. Something unspoken buzzed between our hands.

“We should get you a cab,” he said, glancing down at my frozen fingers, his expression softening with concern. “You’re not exactly dressed for this weather.”

"Yeah, I probably should’ve planned better,” I admitted with a laugh, still caught up in the warmth of his hands, the way they made everything else feel just a little less cold. 

He waved down a cab with the ease of someone who’s done it a hundred times. I watched him as he loaded my bags into the trunk, every movement feeling like a countdown. And then, when he opened the passenger door for me, I hesitated. I stood at the edge of that moment, torn between the part of me that wanted to leave and the part that wanted to stay, just a little longer.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, looking up at him, my heart thudding hard in my chest.

“Jungkook,” he said, his voice soft, that crooked smile still tugging at his lips. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” I replied, the name slipping out of my mouth so naturally it felt like it was meant for him, like it was always supposed to be said here, in this cold, surreal moment.

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was testing it on his tongue, like it was something fragile and precious. He leaned in just a little, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Y/N?" His hand hovered near my shoulder, his voice even quieter now, almost as if he was about to share a secret meant only for me.

And suddenly, the world around us—everything—fell away. The cold, the noise, the blur of people rushing past. It was just him, standing there with that crooked grin, making me wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of whatever this was.

“Yeah, Jungkook?” I asked, my breath catching, anticipation curling low in my stomach.

“My friends and I... we hang out at this bar on Grand most Tuesdays. Billy’s?” He said it like a suggestion, but it felt like more. Like a bridge to whatever might come next. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime?”

A thrill shot through me, quick and unexpected. This wasn’t just some random, fleeting connection. He wanted to see me again. “Yeah,” I stammered, my voice barely steady. “I could swing by. Once I’m settled in.”

“Great.” His whole face lit up, and it was like watching a door creak open, revealing something softer, something vulnerable underneath. "I’ll see you around then, Y/N." He stepped back, shut the door behind me with a quiet finality.

As the cab pulled away, I turned, craning for one last look. He waved, easy and casual, and I lifted my hand in return, my heart still racing. Part of me wanted to freeze this moment, hold onto it before it slipped away. But the cab turned the corner, and just like that, he was gone.

I slumped back in the seat, exhaustion settling in like a heavy weight. I rested my head against the cold window, letting the chill ground me. This wasn’t just some daydream—it was real. And yet, as the city lights blurred by, doubts started creeping in, shadows curling at the edges of my mind. Would I really show up at Billy’s? Or would I let this whole thing fade, convincing myself it was just a fluke? 

But then I thought about him—Jungkook. That crooked smile. And a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder... What if?

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[writersmacchiato]

Three Years | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Summary: You see Edmund and Lucy again in the most unexpected of places after their departure three years earlier.

Warnings: kissing (between Edmund x reader)

. . .

Salt.

It was misting over your face, tangy as it melted on your tongue.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, the endless blues of the sea turning golden and pink as they reflected the light.

Besides the creaking of the ship, and the shuffling of feet below deck as the crew began to stir and rise for the day, all was silent.

You had been waking up early every day since the voyage had begun. Without any reason, drawn to the crow’s nest in the misty grays of dawn before the rest of the world awakened. Watching the sunrise from the perfect spot.

The day would be like any other that had come before.

When Caspian, in all his kingly charm, had requested that you accompany him on this trip to the ends of the world you had been expecting more dangerous conquests. All you had battled so far was seasickness.

“Good morning. See anything?” The aforementioned king called up his usual greeting to you, hair ruffling in the cool breeze.

“Sea and more sea!”

You don’t hear it but can imagine the chuckle he releases through the rise and fall of his shoulders as he walks away to resume his check of the ship.

The sun continues to rise higher and higher into the sky, a cloudless day stretching away. You had snuck away to catch a moment of quiet in the crow’s nest.

Watching the empty waves was beginning to bore you.

When.

It couldn’t be-

“Caspian!” You yelled, jumping over the wooden beams that held you aloft. Grabbing hold of the rope to slide down, all the while yelling Caspian’s name.

“What is it?”

“There on the eastern starboard, I saw something. Someone.”

Caspian runs to the railing, quickly yelling orders at the crew to begin a rescue.

Rescue?

You’re too stunned by the possibility of a rescue to react when Caspian himself dives into the water. You’ve been watching the waters - there have been no sightings of any boats or ships for days now. Not even a rowboat.

The creak of the pulley grabs your attention, dragging first Caspian into view and then the young girl huddled against his side.

It couldn’t possibly be-

Lucy Pevensie. Daughter of Eve.

She shouts your name and crashes into you with little grace. You don’t care that she’s dripping water everywhere, returning her fierce embrace.

“Oh Lucy.” You can’t help the wide smile.

And then you see him, standing besides Caspian with his own smile looking at you.

“Edmund.” You breathe so quietly you aren’t sure you say anything, but Lucy pulls away and beckons her brother over.

He says your name just as quietly and gets close enough for you to touch him but he doesn’t make the first move, just looking and looking.

“Well come here!” You wrap your arms around him, relishing the way he grabs onto you gently. Almost shyly.

He whispers your name again, to himself, committing every bit of this to memory. He thought he remembered everything; but now he realizes how much he’s forgotten. The way you felt against him, the feel of your hair against his face, the way you smell.

A piercing scream cuts your reunion short, and Edmund has even more reason to despise his cousin when he feels the loss of your warmth against him.

“Welcome aboard the Dawn Treader.”

. . .

Edmund tried to fall asleep, he truly did.

The creaking of the ship and the swaying of his hammock made of his stomach roll, but he could’ve adapted to it if it wasn’t for the snoring of Eustace. He also couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much his heart swelled, almost painfully, when he thought about the look on your face when you saw him. Like you were happy to see him.

He’s sitting outside now, on the eastern stern of the ship, giddy at the feeling of the wind against his face. Narnian air.

“Edmund.”

His gaze cuts from the endless water to your form, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. Like a dream. It feels too much like the many dreams he had back home, wanting nothing more than to see you again.

“Mind if I join you?”

He shuffles over on the bench, trying to contain his grin when you open the blanket you brought and drape it over your shoulders and his.

“Tell me about your world.”

You play with his hand, tracing over the lines on his palm. Edmund doesn’t know how to describe it to you; he’s fought battles by your side, danced with you under the Narnian sky while fireworks flashed across the sky. In England, he’s no one.

“There’s nothing exciting there. Nothing like what we did.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I suppose so.”

You can tell there’s more he isn’t saying, something that is eating away from him. But you don’t pry. Not yet.

“Tell me. What have you been doing since I left?” Edmund asks.

You hum, fingers still tracing over the lines on Edmundo’s palm. Trying to reconcile three years worth of memories into something amusing or daring, but the truth is… that without Edmund, dealing with his sudden departure had left you in misery.

“Can I be honest with you, Edmund?”

He doesn’t answer right away, shifting slightly so he’s turned toward you instead of side by side. Hand gently squeezing yours.

“Of course you can.”

“The past three years have been amazing, theoretically. Caspian has managed to restore peace and order to the lands, Narnians have been rebuilding their lives and I… I missed you. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Edmund would love this’.”

“I missed you too.” Edmund says quietly. “Lucy had to drag me out of bed most days, because at least in my dreams I might get to visit you again.”

“Edmund?”

He hums in response.

You turn your body so you’re facing him too, the blanket you’d brought slipping down to your waist. Even with the chilly breeze from the ocean you don’t feel cold, feeling the warmth radiating from Edmund. From where his thigh touches yours. His hand still in yours.

You ask the question that you’ve thought about every night since he and his siblings walked through the tree back into their world.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

You don’t have to specify - when, where, what? Edmund knows exactly what you’re talking about.

The night of Caspian’s coronation, the sky lit up with fireworks. The way the colors flashed over your face, the whizz and crack of the fireworks vibrating through his chest. Your hands on his shoulder, his on your waist.

It felt like a moment torn out of a fairytale, the only thing missing was a twirl and a dip in the dance that ended in a kiss.

Instead, once the majority of the merriment commenced, the fireworks fizzled out and the food and drink all gone, Edmund walked you to your room. You remember the way your heart beat, so fast, feeling more nervous than you had on the battlefield days earlier.

“Goodnight,” Edmund had said, pressing a kiss to your hand and then he was gone in the castle shadows. The next day he was gone from Narnia.

“I did kiss you.” He has a hint of a smirk on his lips, but you can see the flush on his cheeks.

“On the hand does not count! Did you not want to kiss me?”

“Of course I did. I’ve spent three years thinking how foolish I was not to.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I knew Susan and Peter had spoken to Aslan and that they seemed upset. I had a suspicion of what they discussed. So, that night with you… I felt that if we got closer than we already had, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Knowing how it felt and then leaving. I’m not sure I would’ve gone with them.”

“I thought I misread you.”

“I’ve spent three years regretting that night. I should have kissed you.”

“I think it’s time we rectify that, hm?”

You kiss him, and you’re struck by how warm he is. Slow and languid, the kiss is sweet. Filled with years of pent up longing finally being released.

Shaking your hand loose, your hand slides up to his neck, gently guiding his eager mouth closer to yours. He breath hitches in his throat, biting back a moan.

It gets messy, clumsy. Noses bumping against each other. His hand finds it way to your waist, your own hands slipping into the loose hair at the nape of his neck. You pull him closer and closer until he’s pressed right against you.

You pull away with a heaving breath, Edmund chasing your lips.

“I need a breather.” You huff out.

“I’ve thought about doing that every single night since Caspian’s coronation.”

“Oh, you mean after you chickened out and didn’t kiss me? And then left for three years?”

Edmund rolls his eyes, pulling away in his stubbornness. “I didn’t see you making a move either, oh fearless one.”

“I think I just did.”

“Three years later.” He mocks.

You shut him up with another kiss, this time finding a rhythm with your lips that makes your toes curl.

The voyage ahead was certain to become more dangerous with each passing day, but here, wrapped in a king's embrace, you think of nothing else but him. Edmund.