#leading to her limiting their contact

[an-annyeoing-writer]

tw nsfw/trauma in the tags, I felt a need to let it out but plz dont read if ur soft

[mischievousmoony]

𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an exposé on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: Cold Case

Bruce Wayne has worked on many cold cases over the years of being Batman. The ones shelved away after all efforts to find justice have run out. He's seen many of them be challenging to solve for the detectives assigned to them years ago. Others were obviously not investigated as thoroughly as they should have.

A rare few were purposely ignored for one reason or another. Bruce tried his best to stop current crimes, but as someone whose own parents' murder was not solved until he brought the man to justice, he knows how much closure could mean.

He worked on them whenever possible, trying to find the missing pieces to explain what happened. Usually, his kids also picked a few up here and there, but no one put in as many hours to solve closed cases as Bruce. (Tim came a close second)

That's why he clicked through an old file with his morning coffee one Saturday instead of enjoying a sleep-in. His eyes rapidly fall over the words of the police report, then the following investigation reports, witness statements and a few pictures. This file is surprisingly thick, but having no valid leads made Bruce suspicious that foul play was a t work/

It's about a young teenage boy who vanished from a small town in Illinois before his body was discovered stuffed into a rotted locker in Gotham three years later.

Daniel Fenton was last seen dining with his friends at the local burger restaurant, Nasty Burger, after school. He was seen parting with his friends two hours later. Samantha Manson's parents arrived to pick up Samantha and Tucker Foley for an art show.

Daniel had not gotten permission to go; he had been grounded due to his grades, but although Mr. Manson offered to drive him home, and the man even called the boy's sister to pick him up, Daniel insisted on walking.

The town had been relatively safe enough that most teens walked around, so the four had driven off to beat the traffic. Daniel had turned towards his house, vanishing from the restaurant's CCTV camera's sight soon after.

The walk should have taken him no more than thirty minutes, but he was an hour late. Daniel's mother frantically called all his friends after failing to contact her son within those thirty minutes. The boy's friends send messages and calls, but the boy does not respond.

Another hour later, Mr. and Mrs Fenton phoned in a missing person report. They drove around looking for Daniel as the police slowly walked through the town, and word spread quickly that the youngest Fenotn had gone missing. By the seven-hour mark, a search party of Daniel's schoolmates and a few neighbors had been formed.

Police and one hundred and three civilians were on the hunt for Daniel.

Neither Samatha's nor Tucker's messages were marked as read, although a chilling fact was that Mrs. Fenton, Mr.Fenton, and Jasmine Fenton's text messages were opened. That pinged within a block of the Fenton's residence.

Two witnesses claimed to have seen Daniel at the corner shop one block from his house, where he stopped to buy a drink. A man in a trench coat approached the boy to ask for his opinion on the chip flavors.

Daniel could be seen chatting with him for a few minutes while standing in line to pay for their purchases, as the witnesses were the cashier and one other customer. After being rung up, Daniel left the man at the counter. The police could track this man down after the boy had gone missing for twelve hours.

However, it was concluded that he had nothing to do with the disappearance, seeing as the man had ordered a cab straight to the airport and gotten on a flight right. He had even waited inside the small corner shop, sitting idly at a table until his cab arrived.

The cab camera, airport security, and plane ticket confirmed his alibi. By the seventy-two-hour mark, a new clue appeared. Daniel's backpack was half dug in a hole five miles outside the city limits when a hiker spotted the slight gleam of the strap's decorative pin.

This was seven miles from where he had disappeared. Inside his backpack were his broken phone, school supplies, the clothes he was last seen in, and a framed photo of Daniel sleeping in his room.

Sadly, the investigators could not find any clues from the sight due to the heavy rain the previous two days. Even the items within the bag were half destroyed from the rain and mud ( Bruce thought that was a ridiculous claim. He would need to break into the evidence archives, steal the backpack, and run some tests. He would ask Barry for help if he had to.)

Two towns over, another witness claimed to have seen Daniel walking by the side of road, being led by a woman in a grey dress. His picture had been shared by frantic schoolmates at a football game where the new witness recognized him.

This was one week after Daniel's disappearance. The witness had claimed to have captured the pair on her dash cam after she had saved the clip because the two had appeared from the shadows "like ghosts," and she had screamed when her headlights shone on them.

The witness was driving through the back roads to her aunt's house, and the lack of street lights, alongside the dense trees lining the roads, made it hard for anyone to see at night. The clip was no more than seven seconds.

It is just as the car turns onto the dirt road that Daniel can be seen turning towards the car, his right wrist trapped in a woman's hold. He stares into the camera while it passes by, not showing any signs of distress.

The woman is turned away from the vehicle, seemingly peering into the trees as if she thought something had caught her attention. The pair's outfits are peculiar- they seem to be dressed from the early eighteen hundreds, which was why the witness had gotten such a fright.

After searching the area where this sighting was held, the police could not find any evidence that Daniel had passed through there. The case went cold for six months before a concerned man called his local authorities about a young boy standing on the edge of a bridge. He had accidentally spotted the boy while filming a wide landscape video of his hotel room.

By the time the man had raced down to the lobby and gotten to the bridge, the emergency operator in his ear, Daniel, had vanished. When the police collected the video, they could identify the same woman wearing the same dress standing by a white van in the background. Thankfully, its license plates were in full view.

The van was later found to have been reported stolen two years before Daniel's disappearance. However, a common link existed between five other missing people investigations that spanned those two years. Sadly, the van was never seen again, and police assumed it was scrapped.

Daniel's case went cold for three years until his body was discovered during a renovation effort funded by Bruce himself. All work on the old buildings was halted as Daniel's death was confirmed, the investigation was underway, and Wayne Enterprise working entirely with the police to find out what happened to the young boy. His body was sent back to his family after the autopsy had been completed.

Daniel Fenton's cause of death was ruled to be suffocation. Physical indications on his body indicated he had attempted to fight off whoever had left those marks around his neck, but in the end, Daniel had not won. Despite the many tests they conducted on the locker and the area, no other clues could be found of how, when, and by whom Daniel had wound up there.

Bruce didn't appreciate the entire lack of clues. He had searched and done his own testing as Batman the same night Daniel's body had been found. Nothing had appeared on his tests until he had attempted to use one of Constantine's runes.

This one had flared up for a mighty ghost. Bruce had gotten the idea to check for the paranormal after rumors spread of a ghost fitting Daniel's description through the nearby neighborhood children. Constantine claimed that it was not the murder victim, Daniel Fenton, but rather something far older and far more dangerous.

Something prone to luring humans away. Bruce believes the woman seen near Daniel in the last few years of his life was not a human.

Bruce sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. He's gone over the file five times, yet nothing seems to jump out at him. His coffee had gone from pipping hot to lukewarm, and his children were slowly tickling into the room.

He raises his mug at them in greeting, hiding a smile behind his cup as Cass leans over to side hug him. His daughter is always more physical in her greetings, which makes him so happy that he ignores how her eyes have launched onto his screen with intense concentration.

"A cold case?" Tim asks from around a yawn. Bruce's head barely finishes the nodding motion before the boy leans closer to the table, eyes sharp. "What's it about?"

"The body was found in the restoration affordable housing project that was canceled," Bruce replies. He begins summarizing the case to his children as the rest finally settle around the table, looking at the usual amount of exhaustion Bruce has long ago been able to push through.

He can spot the moment they all start theorizing or analyzing the presented information while he scrolls up to see Daniel's smiling face. Bruce is just about to flip the tablet around so the rest of the children can see when his daughter leans closer to the tablet.

Cass's hand spams as she hisses. "Not Dead."

It takes a moment for Bruce to process her sharp words, blinking up at her. "What was that sweetheart?"

"Not. Dead," She repeats, pointing an accusing finger at Daniel's photo. "Not Human. Lures victims to death. Almost got me."

Well, that complicates this already confusing case a bit.

[thesquidgame]

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed. 

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room. 

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you. 

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled. 

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!” 

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit. 

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube. 

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown. 

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face. 

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?” 

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?” 

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.” 

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon. 

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!” 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed. 

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.” 

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.” 

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder. 

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.” 

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable. 

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.” 

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.” 

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

[cxnicalcherub]

“is that another one of your porn books?”

the smell of tobacco and old leather wafts into your nose as jason leans over your shoulder, a dark eyebrow cocked as his green eyes look down at the book in your hand. a soft piano melody plays through the aisle of the bookstore you’re in. probably one of the composers he likes to listen to at home, given the way his finger taps against his thigh along with the measure of the song. and though no one else is in the section with you two, you still feel the embarrassment of someone possibly overhearing him.

you playfully smack him with the hardcover, then motion towards the book he has tucked under his arm. “is that another limited edition of wuthering heights?”

he shrugs. “in my defense, emily is the best brontë sister.”

you feign offense with a mock gasp. “i know you did not just diss my girl jane eyre. besides, you’re only saying that because you love hareton.”

“he deserved his own book!”

“i know, baby.”

“he wanted to learn to read for her…”

“i know, baby.”

with a mischievous glint in his forest eyes and the reflexes of cat on adderall, jason snatches your book out of your grip, swatting away at your hands and protests as he flips to a random page and begins to skim through it.

“jay—”

“so what’s this one about?” he asks, completely ignoring your whine. “werewolves? fairies? an adult modern retelling of a classic children’s tale and the pirate is now a mafia boss with a gun fetish?”

“jay, i swear to god—”

“it’s rude to swear.”

“jason—”

and, of course, because jason wouldn’t be jason if he didn’t get on your nerves at least once during an outing together, he decides to hold the book above your head, just out of reach, a low rumbling laugh reverberating in his chest. he lets you try to jump and plead and bargain your way into getting your book back, a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time, and sometimes he even lowers it enough to allow your fingers to graze it before snatching it up again. you quietly curse and pout the entire time, and all he can think about is how he wants to be able to annoy you like this for a long, long time.

he does give the book back eventually. after a worker walks by and smiles in a way that lets jason know he’s being perceived fondly by someone that isn’t you, and he hates the way his skin crawls at it.

when he goes to pay for both of your stacks of books (he always acts so appalled whenever you offer to, and after he embarrassed you in front of a different bookstore clerk by sighing and huffing throughout the entire interaction, you gave up that fight), you’re delighted to see that it was, in fact, a limited edition of wuthering heights tucked under his arm earlier. this, in turn, leads to you teasing him as you two walk out of the store, to which he teases you about the fact that you bought the first three books to a series you haven’t even read just because the covers were pretty.

“i thought we weren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover,” he challenges you.

you easily counter with, “they wouldn’t make the covers so pretty if we weren’t meant to judge them.”

“did you judge me by my cover?”

“i found you cursing like a sailor and bleeding out by a garbage bin behind a walgreens.”

“and that’s a hollywood-worthy love story according to gotham standards.”

the banter between you two continues as you walk into the coffee shop you always pop into after bookstore trips, and both of you put in your orders between smartass quips and razor-sharp comebacks. jason tries to stealthily slide the barista his card while you defend your choice in literature, but you easily swat his hand away and offer your card instead without breaking eye contact.

once your drinks are ready to go, you both venture off to the park with the pretty, giant tree you love to read and sip under.

(“a weeping katsura tree,” jason had informed you when you first took him to the spot months and months ago. “they’re native to japan and china, but they can grow pretty much anywhere they’re planted as long as the soil is well-drained.”

you blinked at him. “how do you know these things?”

“doesn’t everybody?”)

jason watches as you settle yourself against the trunk of the tree, drink in hand while your book sits in your lap, and he can’t help but think that this is what all of the love songs are all about.

they’re about going on monthly bookstore dates with someone that matches him witty comment for witty comment.

they’re about being able to tease you about your taste in books, and you knowing that’s his way of saying, “i know what you like because i see you and i love you”.

they’re about having to compromise about who gets to pay for the books and who gets to pay for the coffee because both of you want to spoil each other and neither of you know how to give up.

they’re about sitting under a weeping katsura tree together, your head on his shoulder while you read your book and he pretends to read his but, really, he’s just watching the way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks.

they’re about the way you always always always kiss him when he gets back from patrol.

they’re about you knowing when he and bruce had another argument by the way his jaw is set and how quiet he gets when you ask him how his night went.

they’re about how you brush your lips over his knuckles and whisper, “i love you no matter what.” before falling asleep tucked under his arm.

“how’s your book, baby?” you ask him.

he has to blink a few times to remember that he’s supposed to be reading, and takes a sip of his iced black americano to give him time to think of a reply. “eh, you know how it goes. they meet in a café and fall in love. there’s probably an estranged rich uncle somewhere in the mix.”

you turn to face him, an incredulous expression on your face, and look at the book on his hands. “all of that happens in, what, the first forty pages of the wasp factory?”

oh, so that’s the book he’s supposed to be reading. he’s pretty sure it’s a horror book too, which makes his fake review of the plot so far even less believable. fuck. he decides to take the conversation off of himself instead of giving you the satisfaction of admitting he was too busy thinking about how sickly in love with you he is to read.

“how’s your werewolf-fairy-pirate-mafia-boss man book going?”

you scoff. “he is not…whatever the hell you just said. he’s a hockey player.”

“and they’re fucking, right?”

you swat the book at him, your lips pursed. “they are not fucking.”

he grins. “but they will fuck.”

you sigh in defeat at the knowing smile on his face and sink back against his shoulder, fully resigned. “they might fuck. i’m not sure yet. she’s pretty adamant about not fucking but he thinks he can win her over.”

he rests his cheek against your head and pulls you a bit closer to him. “he should try offering to teach her how to set trip wire around her apartment just in case someone tries to break in. worked for me.”

“jay, i only let you do that because you came crashing into my apartment at 4 in the afternoon fully ready to murder someone.”

“you didn’t reply to my text.”

“i was taking a nap—”

oh yes, this is exactly what stephen sanchez had in mind while he wrote until i found you.

—

“would you love me if i was the orphan nephew of the man who was in love with your mother, beat into being an uneducated farmworker, and then tried to destroy all of your books because i was insecure about being uneducated?”

“jason, my love, it is 3 in the morning. i am begging you to get some sleep.”

“…is that a no?”

“i think i’m going to haunt emily brontë in the afterlife.”

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Shadows Beneath the Light [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x Sorcerer!reader

wc: 5k

Summary: Valentina contacts you to conduct a complete team assessment regarding the mystical arts. But when Bob's turn comes, it turns out he needs more of your help.

masterlist

AN: listen, I thought about making this longer, but then I decided I'd just post it like this. If you're interested in a second part, let me know! I'd be happy to.

warnings: mentions of mental illness, Val is a bitch, mentions of suicide, complicated childhoods, canon-typical violence, and The Void

After the final battle against Thanos three years ago, you had returned to anonymity. Like many other magic users, your participation was decisive but silent, deploying containment seals, opening portals, and shielding minds during the catastrophe. You were there when Strange momentarily fell. You were the one who stabilized the field during the most critical seconds. But no one outside the inner circle remembered your name.

Or so you thought, because two months ago, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine had knocked on your door bringing something that, more than a request, was a date with a time limit.

Some of the most powerful assets on the new team she was leading—you'd heard about them on the news, a ragtag group of broken soldiers and conflicted metahumans the government didn't know where to put—had begun to show signs of magical dissonance. Fragments of darkness that shouldn't exist, symbols they didn't remember writing, dreams that weren't theirs.

One person in particular worried everyone: Bob Reynolds.

You knew him only by name. Sentry. As powerful as the sun, immense strength, mental stability… debatable. An entity of light with a counterpart of absolute darkness: The Void. You knew just enough to accept the assignment with reservations.

Your job was to assess it and determine if there was any active magical intrusion in it or if the presence of The Void was stronger than they admitted. And if so... intervene.

So there you were now. Temporarily housed in the underground facility the team had been moved to, with a list of subjects to review, and restricted—but sufficient—access to do your job. You'd already examined Walker, Yelena, and Ghost. They had some residual blockages, but nothing that couldn't be resolved. You were surprised that, given the kind of life they led, they weren't worse off.

But when you finally got access to Bob, the protocol changed.

The room he was in was protected with physical shielding and containment charms you had designed yourself, just in case. You watched him for a moment through the one-way mirror, and he seemed simply human: sitting, hunched over, his face in his hands. Nothing about him screamed “cosmic entity.” Nothing, except what couldn’t be seen.

You noticed the air trembling around him, not from heat, but from energetic density. The aura surrounding the man wasn't magical, but it permeated you as if it were. His vibe was definitely heavier than that of his previous colleagues, and you understood why the CIA director was so keen for you to do something about it.

You didn't blame her, to be honest, because the world no longer relied on a group of scientists who could handle these kinds of situations, so magic seemed like a more sensible alternative right now. Fighting fire with fire... or something like that.

As you entered the room, the metal door slammed shut behind you. Bob raised his head, his blue eyes fixed on you with a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. He looked... tired. Not physically, but emotionally drained, as if he hadn't slept properly in years. Even so, he straightened politely with a neutral expression, like someone accustomed to being watched without fully understanding why.

“Are you the one who’s going to… evaluate me?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

“I am,” you replied in the same tone, telling him your name next.

There was a table between the two of you, which made the place look like some kind of laboratory or a prelude to prison. He kept staring at you, somewhat confused.

“Are you a doctor?”

“It’s a different kind of evaluation,” you exclaimed, without offering any further explanation for the moment. He didn’t need to know everything. Not yet. “Just sit still, okay?”

He nodded obediently, and then you slipped your hand inside your cloak, pulling out a locket that you began to turn between your fingers. The movement activated a faint projection, almost invisible to the mundane eye: a network of golden lines unfolded around it, scanning its auric field. Your thumb brushed over a small sigil in the center of the locket, and a slight hum resonated as it detected dissonances.

You walked around him in silence. With each step, you traced runes with your fingertips, which flickered in the air before dissolving. It wasn't invasive magic, it was an ethereal diagnosis. But when you finally closed the circle behind his back, you felt it. A crack.

It wasn't an artifact, nor a curse. It was something ancient, something breathing within the folds of the soul of the man in front of you. As if something were stirring just beneath his skin, waiting to be acknowledged.

“You’re going to feel some pressure,” you warned gently, placing your fingers on his temples. He didn’t protest.

The technique was simple: channeled meditation through physical contact, an anchoring method the monks at Kamar-Taj used to detect hidden currents in the mind. But you weren't prepared for what you saw.

In a second, his consciousness opened like an abyss. You were standing in the middle of a devastated field, the sky crimson, the clouds shredded by black tongues that snaked out like rotten roots. And at the center of it all, a figure of smoke and shadow... looking back at you.

«Who are you?»

The voice was thick, raspy, and came from all sides. It was terrifying.

«What are you?»

«The Void,» he murmured simply.

«Are you a guest in this body? Do you serve some dark master or sorcerer?»

«Don't be stupid. I'm that thing everyone has inside... that thing they can't escape.»

An invisible weight pressed against your chest: it was hostile, painful. And suddenly the air froze. Not literally, but it felt like the world had stopped moving. A low, persistent buzzing settled in your ear. And then, everything was gone.

Now you were home. In the old apartment with walls cracked by moisture, where the floral wallpaper hung half-open and the light filtered in, as if the sun no longer wanted to shine.

“Mom?” you called. But it wasn’t your voice speaking, but someone younger, beside you.

The hallway smelled of stale lavender and burnt electricity. You remembered it. Every inch. Every crack in the floor. The way the air tasted was like something that didn't belong in the world.

“Mom, are you there?” you asked again. Your younger self sounded scared.

The sound of running water came from the kitchen. Your feet moved on their own. You knew what you were going to see, but you couldn't stop it. Void wouldn't let you. There she was.

She sat on the floor, eyes wide open, speaking to the griffin as if it were an ancient god. Her hands were covered in ink, or blood, or both. On the wall, clumsily scrawled, the same symbol over and over: an eye with a thousand eyelashes, weeping fire.

“I told you you weren’t real,” he whispered, not looking at you. “No one who loves me is born real.”

You froze. Your little self took a step back.

But the woman continued speaking, more quietly, like a twisted prayer:

“I dreamed of you before you existed. You were just a mistake I couldn’t erase.”

“Mommy…”

“If I close my eyes, you disappear. Do you want to see it?”

You wanted to run, stop her, hug her. But it all happened again.

The balcony door opened, with the exact creak of its rusty hinges. Then came the crushing silence. And then, the fall; the thud you never heard, but could still feel in your chest.

The Void appeared. Not in physical form. Not as a monster. Just a voice. A whisper like a blade:

«You remember everything, right? Every detail before your mommy left forever... »

You screamed. Not from pain, but from fury. From fear. From rage because he had no right to show it to you. Because you didn't know if he'd stolen it from you... or if it had always been there, waiting.

When the spell—the illusion, the psychic assault, whatever it was—ended, you returned to the living room, panting, your hands still on Bob's face. He was frowning, as if he'd felt the pull too, though he didn't fully understand it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his guilt aching in your heart. He didn’t seem to be afraid for himself. He was afraid for you.

You took a step back, trying to regulate your breathing as you processed the shock of the sight. You looked up at the mirror, which reflected your image, wondering if anyone was on the other side watching the scene.

You were pale, as if you were about to throw up, and the man looked no better than you.

“You have something… very wrong inside you.”

Your whisper made him look down, embarrassed. He thought you were there to draw blood, perform some tests, or assess his physical condition. He didn't expect you to intrude on his mind like that.

“You can… Can you control it?”

“Sometimes. But there are other times when it controls me. And then I don't remember anything, and it's so… it's all so confusing.”

Several seconds passed in silence, the buzzing of the locket still vibrating on your wrist as if it were a residue of what you'd seen. When you left the room, still shaking, you said nothing; you didn't have to. The report was complete, you'd seen enough.

Later, in one of the complex's makeshift offices, you met with Valentina. You spoke in great detail about each team member's situation, going on at length when it was Bob's turn. Of course, you omitted details related to your vision. She listened more attentively than you would have expected. When you finished, she remained silent for a few seconds, as if digesting more than just information.

“Yeah, I understand all of this and I appreciate the work you did, but I need to ask you something.”

“Yes, what's wrong?”

“In this boy's case… Robert. What you're talking about inside him, that emptiness, that jumble of trauma and darkness… can it be fixed?”

You frowned, confused.

"What do you mean?"

“That's what unbalances him. That's what makes him dangerous. Can't it be extracted, sealed, purified…? With magic, spells, or whatever you use.”

You highly doubted she understood how the mystic arts worked, but you let it go. Instead, you tried to focus on how you could explain it to her.

“The emptiness inside Bob… isn't a curse that can be broken, or a creature that can be exorcised. It's not an external demon that can be sealed away with an incantation and that's it. It's part of him. As is his strength and his light. The problem is that his darkness isn't integrated; it's fragmented. Repressed. And when something that powerful is denied or hidden for so long, it finds its own way out.”

You paused to see if she was still with you. Valentina didn't say anything, but nodded expectantly.

“The mystical arts don't work like surgery. We don't extract. We accompany. We guide. We teach how to see what others prefer to ignore. There's a principle we learn from day one at Kamar-Taj: 'What you deny, subdues you. What you accept, transforms you.' Bob needs to learn to look at his shadow without being destroyed. To live with it without being consumed by it. It's slow, arduous, and not always linear work. There will be setbacks. But it's possible.”

Valentina crossed her arms, thoughtful.

"And can you do that with him? Help him through that process?"

You leaned forward, making sure your tone was firm.

“I can teach him techniques of emotional containment, breathing, mantras, symbolic anchoring. I can guide him through deep meditations that allow him to visualize and reconfigure your relationship with The Void. But I can't do it for him; it's a process he has to start on his own.”

“Okay, then start that training or whatever, as soon as possible.”

You blinked, puzzled.

“I don’t understand. You hired me to do a team assessment. To identify potential risks.”

“And you found one,” she replied bluntly, leaning in as if about to reveal an intimate confession. “Listen, this group is an experiment. A rehearsal. And if something goes wrong, it could cost me more than I’m already risking. So yes, I hired you to do an assessment, but also because I need solutions. Not just to identify problems, but to fix them. And Bob… well, he’s got tremendous potential. But he’s also very insane, do you follow me?”

You didn't say anything, you just watched her.

“What I want is simple: for you to help me rebuild him. To mold him so he can use his power without breaking. For it to learn self-regulation. For Sentry to appear when we need him, not when he collapses. I don’t want to throw away the entire project just because he has… this small flaw in his internal programming. Do you see what I mean?”

The coldness with which she spoke made your skin crawl. You'd met many dangerous people in your life, but few with that mix of pragmatism and disdain for humanity. Valentina wasn't interested in helping Bob. She didn't want to cure him, or understand him. She just wanted to harness his power. Use him… until he was of no use.

You cleared your throat before answering:

“I could do it, yes. But I don't know how long it will take.”

“You’re the only viable option I have right now, so I’m in no position to demand miracles, honey. Just results. I want you installed at The Watchtower so you can start working with Robert.”

You narrowed your eyes, gauging his tone.

“Is this an offer or an order?”

“I’m hiring you,” she murmured, almost condescendingly. “I don’t suppose you want to go back to that horrible apartment in the Bronx, do you? Why not put your talents to work on something that will really make a difference?”

You stayed silent for a second longer than necessary. Because you knew exactly what she meant by making a difference. And it wasn't saving Bob. It was using him. Taming him. Making him obey.

And if you didn't intervene... she'd probably succeed.

You pressed your lips together for a moment. Not out of fear. Not out of submission. But because something inside you—something older than your training, deeper than your vows at Kamar -Taj—stirred at the thought of leaving Bob alone with that darkness.

“Fine,” you said at last, in a low but firm voice.

Valentina smiled, satisfied, as if she had won a chess game that only she was playing.

“I knew you’d see the value in this,” she muttered, giving you an unnecessary pat on the arm before turning to leave.

You didn't say anything else. You watched her walk away, elegant and dangerous like an expensive poison. Then you lowered your gaze and let out the breath you'd been holding throughout the exchange.

She was wrong; you hadn't agreed for any trivial reason like the one she was suggesting. You did it because there was something in Bob you recognized.

That silent struggle, that shadow that threatened to swallow him up from within, was not foreign to you. And you thought that if someone had ever stopped to teach you how to look at your darkness without fear... perhaps you, too, would have taken less time to learn to live with it.

So, months passed. And it wasn't easy.

There were good days, when Bob could concentrate for more than an hour at a time, when his thoughts didn't fragment, when you could see him laugh—a little forced at first, more natural with time.

And there were bad days. Days when he woke up drenched in sweat, apologizing for things he couldn't remember doing. Days when The Void whispered in your dreams, looking for cracks to enter.

But despite everything, you began to find a rhythm.

At first, he didn't talk much. His words were few, but his ability to absorb knowledge was astonishingly quick. You, for your part, didn't dwell on long explanations or useless words either; you knew exactly what kind of discipline he needed to channel the chaotic energy that consumed him from within. You were neither his therapist nor his jailer, but rather that steady, silent buoy he could cling to when the internal waters threatened to drown him.

As the months passed, the closeness became inevitable. It wasn't a surprise that, amidst rigor and patience, a genuine friendship developed. You lived apart from most of the tower's tenants, and your interactions with them were sporadic and superficial. You spent most of your time studying, learning more, and finding new ways to help him find a balance that seemed elusive. Bob had become your most cherished project, that silent goal that kept you up until the wee hours, hoping he would achieve such a firm grasp that he would one day be worthy of occupying one of the sanctuaries.

That morning, the training room was empty except for the two of you. It was a routine you had established with discipline: getting up early, before dawn, to meditate and prepare your mind before leading him through his training.

“Being at peace with yourself is the key to learning,” you had once told him, with the gentleness of someone offering vital advice.

At the time, he'd found it absurd. Now, it was an essential part of his daily life.

You had carefully prepared the space: the floor covered with thin, noise-dampening mats, the walls reinforced with invisible layers of arcane protection that you had delicately and precisely inscribed yourself. In one corner, a small burner let the lingering scent of incense flow, a symbolic gesture that helped Bob achieve that meditative state, even though he swore he only liked the smell.

Bob sat in the center of the room, legs crossed, torso erect, palms open, exposed like tiny antennas capturing energy. He breathed slowly, following the rhythm you set with the soft jingle of an antique locket around your neck.

“Inhale… hold… exhale”

You sat across from him, replicating the same position. You watched him silently, noticing how that roaring mass of energy that once seemed to devour him was now contained just below the surface. Vibrant, yes. Threatening, perhaps. But controlled, enough for him to manipulate it and, above all, not let himself be consumed by it.

“Do you feel the flow?” you asked.

Bob nodded slowly with his eyes closed.

“Yes. I always… feel like he’s watching me. But now he’s not screaming anymore.”

You smiled slightly, with that mixture of relief and pride you felt when seeing his progress.

“That means he’s listening. You’re in control.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a mixture of doubt and hope.

“Do you think I could ever live without it? Without him.”

The question was profound, and you were slow to answer because the truth was complex. However, you chose honesty.

“I don’t think so. But you can live with it. Without fearing it, without letting it speak for you. Just like now.”

Bob looked down thoughtfully.

“It's different here than anywhere else. Here I'm calm, at peace… with you. If something bad happens, you guide me. But I don't know if I'll be able to stay that way in a critical situation or the face of a real threat.”

“That’s something you learn over time,” you assured him. “Look at yourself when we started and look at yourself now. Are you still where you are?”

He firmly denied it.

“You’ll get it. I promise.”

“How long have you been training to have the mastery you have now?”

Bob had begun digging into your private life a few weeks ago. It wasn't that you minded, but it was unexpected to have to talk about yourself with him. You were supposed to maintain the composure of a mentor, helping him reach his potential without getting emotional.

“Nine years”

His face lit up with amazement.

“It’s a long time.”

"Yes, but I'm dedicated to the mystical arts. With you, we're just seeking balance."

That seemed to comfort him a little. You could tell from the small smile he gave you.

“And you face demons and things like that? Monsters?”

“Sometimes,” you laughed, “Other times they are aliens, beings from other universes, dark wizards… it depends on the teacher who needs my help.”

“That’s so cool, ” he confessed with admiration.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, as his interest seemed almost endearing. You, too, had felt that fascination at first, but over time, you'd grown accustomed to it and were no longer surprised by it.

“Yours isn't bad either. Sentry, the being with the strength of a thousand burning suns...”

“Oh, but it’s no use if I don’t know how to control it,” he replied “It’s wasted power.”

“Where there is light, by law there must be darkness, Bob. We can't live any other way. The universe is meant to contain this duality in every particle that makes it up. You just have to know when to turn to one or the other.”

He nodded, processing your words seriously.

"How do you become so wise? Like you."

“I’m not wise, at least not in the way you think,” you said with a faint smile. “In fact, I’m extremely stupid. But that’s why I’m here. The key is to make mistakes and learn from them, to grow every day.”

“I hope my mistakes don’t cost anyone their life,” he murmured sincerely.

A heavy silence settled between you. Your mistakes had cost lives. They almost cost you yours.

“I hope so too. Otherwise, it would reflect poorly on me as a mentor.”

He didn't take it the wrong way, but instead used it as an opportunity to ease the tension with a little joke. You got up to get a Chinese teapot while he sighed, anticipating what was coming.

“Are we going to work with tea?” he asked timidly.

You nodded with a smile.

“How did you feel last time?”

“Scared and tired. My head hurt.”

“More or less than before?”

“Less. It was a little less.”

“You'll get used to it, it'll get lighter and lighter. Drink.”

The blend was a little lighter, with a deep, earthy aroma, hints of sage and star anise. Bob took the small cup you offered him and drank it in one gulp, despite the temperature.

The silence that followed was different: more attentive, denser. You had begun working with sacred infusions you learned at Kamar-Taj, prepared with ingredients that encouraged introspection. They were called "soft doors" because they didn't force violent visions or provoke chaotic hallucinations, but rather opened memories in layers, as if one were gently sliding into them.

You sat down in front of him and closed your eyes, feeling the energy of the place synchronize with his breathing.

“Don’t hold on if it gets dark,” you whispered. “Just watch. I’m here with you.”

He nodded, calmer, and closed his eyes.

The infusion began to take effect with the slowness of a tide rising without warning. Bob's shoulders relaxed, but his face became tense, as if something was tugging at him from within. His lips parted slightly.

“I’m… there again. In the white room.”

Keeping your eyes closed, palms open on your thighs, you focused on his words.

"Is it the same one as before? The one with the door without a handle?"

“Yes. But it’s ajar now… I don’t know if I want to look.”

“You don’t have to cross it. Just approach it.”

Bob nodded slightly, his breathing becoming uneven, but he didn't back down.

“There’s a shadow… its back is turned. It’s waiting for me.”

“It’s not real,” you whispered. “It’s a reflection of something that was. It can’t touch you here.”

“But it’s me.”

You had learned that most of his visions related to himself, his greatest regrets manifested in spectral form. His hands clenched on his knees, and sweat began to dampen his forehead. You didn't move, you remained stationary.

“What are you doing?”

“It's just there. But I feel like if it turns around… if I look at him… it'll all come back.”

The pressure in the air grew palpable, as if the shadow were taking control of the place. You took a deep breath and spoke to him in a low, firm voice:

“Then don’t look at him. Look around. What’s in that room besides him?”

It took Bob a few seconds to respond.

“Broken glass. It floats, as if something had exploded. But there’s no sound.”

“Can you touch them?”

He reached out a trembling hand, as if he really saw them.

“Yes. One stuck to my skin.”

“What does it show you?”

Bob shuddered, a low moan escaping his throat.

“My mother is crying in a chair. I'm hiding. She calls me… but I don't go.”

“It’s just a memory,” you said softly. “You can’t change it, but you can be present now. You’re not that child anymore.”

Bob swallowed.

“I don’t want her to cry for me again.”

“What comes next?”

The room began to oscillate as if it were liquid. Bob blinked several times, his breathing quickened, but he didn't come out of the trance.

“Can you leave the room?”

“There’s another door at the back. It’s bright, it has no shadow.”

“Do you want to go there?”

Silence. He hesitated.

“I don’t want to. Not yet.”

"Alright."

You let him breathe deeply for a while, until his chest calmed. You closed the energy circle with a subtle gesture, and his pupils stopped trembling.

“I’m back,” he said hoarsely and opened his eyes.

His fingers were damp with sweat, but he wasn't hugging his body like before. He didn't seem to be running away from himself.

"How do you feel?"

"Confused"

You watched him calmly.

“You did well, Bob. Very well.”

The silence returned, thick and heavy, perhaps reflecting on what he'd seen. Your sessions always left him mentally exhausted, but after a few hours of rest, the benefit outweighed the sacrifice.

Suddenly, he lay back on the linoleum, stretching his limbs and letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing.

“Come, lie down next to me.”

You hesitated for a moment, but finally settled down next to him.

“I've always liked lying on the floor since I was a kid. I did it when I needed to calm down.”

His voice was a whisper, barely a murmur.

“It’s hard growing up in a home that never feels like one, isn’t it?”

Bob nodded silently and then turned slightly to look at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You hummed an affirmative response.

“It’s about the vision you had the first time we met, remember? Is it real?”

“Do you want to know if it happened?”

He nodded.

“Yes, it happened.”

You didn't want to elaborate, and he didn't press the issue. You suddenly felt exposed. Witnessing your mother's suicide wasn't a story you were keen to tell. But with Bob, the line between teacher and student blurred more than either of you wanted to admit.

You stared at the ceiling, wishing the silence would envelop them calmly.

Thus, in that cold room, where magic and pain converged, a bond began to form that would be much stronger than any shadow.

A few minutes passed without either of them saying a word, just the subtle sound of the wind blowing through the cracks in the window. The morning light filtered through in faint beams, creating irregular patches on the floor where they both lay.

“Sometimes,” you began quietly, as if sharing a secret, “I think our wounds are the source of our strength. Not because we desire them, but because they force us to find ourselves.”

Bob turned his head to look at you, and although his eyes still reflected the internal battle he was waging, there was a new spark in them: a flame that withstood the storm.

“It’s not always easy to see the light during chaos,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “But with you… I feel like I can try.”

You felt touched by his confession, by the vulnerability he displayed without fear.

Silence fell again, but this time it was a silence filled with meaning, as if it were the invisible bridge connecting you. You stood up slowly, helping him do the same. The years of training and suffering Bob had endured hadn't broken him; on the contrary, they seemed to mold him into something greater.

“Let’s get ready for today’s session,” you said, letting the warmth fall into your voice.

You began to prepare the place, calmly, being observed by him at all times.

“Do you think I can ever not be afraid?”

“Fear never goes away. You'll learn to live with it, to recognize it, and not let it paralyze you. And then you'll find your balance.”

“And when I can find that balance, if I ever do…” he began, his voice low, “Will I never see you again?”

You stopped to observe him.

“That's up to you. Spiritually, you won't need me. If it's about hanging out with a friend, then I'm always available.”

The word friend felt sweet on your lips. Bob was more pleased than he would have liked to hear your response.

“I like the sound of that.”

A faint glimmer of confidence lit his face. That moment felt like a small victory in the long battle you had both shared.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still: the air, time, the invisible wounds that marked you. In that shared silence, you knew that, no matter what the future held, you had something unbreakable—a deep connection, a refuge amidst the chaos.

As you sat up, a slight change in the air caught your attention. A barely perceptible murmur, like a distant sigh or the rustle of a page turning, filled the room. It was a faint, almost imperceptible signal that made your senses tense slightly.

It wasn't time yet, but you knew it would soon arrive: a call you couldn't ignore, a shadow on the horizon... a door you'd soon have to open.

For now, the present was sufficient. Bob was here, with you, and that was enough.

tag list (thanks, pretty!): @littlemsbumblebee

[quarterlifekitty]

König and Domestic Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader

Due to popular demand (about 4 people)

Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!

König is stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.

And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.

And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.

That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.

(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)

König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.

And for König, it’s love at first sight.

You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.

And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.

You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.

He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.

And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.

And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.

He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.

God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).

Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.

If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.

You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.

[lovingjingyuan]

I wonder: How would hsr boys react to someone trying to take pics up ur skirt? This is an unhinged thought that I’ve thought to long, please cure this weird thinking.

Characters: Avneturine, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill

Aventurine

When Aventurine caught sight of a creepy man attempting to take inappropriate photos under your skirt while you were dress shopping for clothes, he was appalled and disgusted. 

“Check this green dress out. It’s like the color of an aventurine. I think it would look dashing on you” He threw in a little wink with his words, while deliberately trying to divert your attention away from the unsettling situation. 

With a reassuring smile he added, “this one's on me, spend freely.” He presented you with the beautiful dress on a hanger, while planning on taking you to the evening ball hosted by the IPC for the executives. 

Oh but he makes sure in the background he discreetly makes sure to contact someone from the IPC technology department to delete every piece of data, wiping everything off that creepy man’s phone. He also arranged a few of his IPC bodyguards, instructing them to follow that man so he can deal with him ‘personally’ later.

Jing Yuan

(Husband♡) Jing Yuan is a gentleman. He doesn’t want to concern you with these, wanting to save you the embarrassment and tainting your mind of peace. What truly astonishes him is the fact one of his very own staff members working at the Seat of Divine Foresight is involved in such despicable behavior. Towards his lover too!

“Ahem ahem,” he clears her throat, catching your attention. “Love, could you spare a moment and help me sort out these files?”

As you approach him he slickly wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into his embrace. He just can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in such a vulnerable way. Anyone that’s not him :( he loves his darling too much for anyone to be ogling at you. 

Without any sort of explanation he sat you down on his chair and covered your lap in a blanket. You’re confused and puzzled by his random action but he’s fuming in anger under his facade smile. 

He’s determined to address this issue in the most “legal” way possible. If he could.

Bladie!!!

He would either glare intensely at the point to the point the creepy man would delete the picture out of sheer intimidation. Orrrrr, Blade might just go over and greet them with his sword. As simple as that 🤷‍♀️

His glare alone is a death sentence, especially when he’s protecting his beloved. He loves you very much; just has a hard time expressing it!

Sunday

How could anyone commit such sinful and absurd acts, escapilly towards his beloved! He frowns upon any lewd or disrespectful behavior. Sunday would be absolutely speechless and consumed by fuming rage and disgust, staring at your offender. 

Regaining his composer, he approaches you with a mask smile hiding the intense emotions he felt, “Just a moment,” he says, glancing at you. “We mustn’t  be late for our outing my dear,” He extends one hand out for your hand. Despite his calm demeanor, his other hand clenched tightly behind his back. 

He averts his gaze directed towards the man behind you. “Please report to the BloodHound they will like to meet with you,” he says, his voice with strained restraints. 

Sunday hurriedly leads you away. Although Sunday may be a forgiving priest he had limits which that man crossed. He;s immensely disappointed that something like this would occur in Penacony’s dreamscape where everyone is supposed to be and feel relaxed in the hands of The Family. And he’s more upset it occurred to his beloved. 

Boothill

he will confront and make a scene cause you're his darling.

Boothill wants to spit out the most profound language but his system won't let him. seeing a man taking pictures of his darling? Fudge no! unacceptable!

"Muddle Fuger, what are you doing?" he tries cussing out the creepy man startling the man with their phone under your skirt.

"Son of a nice lady! What the heck are you doing to my girl?!" He makes a big scene, causing the man to panic because everyone turns their attention to this scene.

he's ready to whip out his revolver and protect his darling. Maybe after this he would take off his hat and put it behind your bum to cover you up as you two walk back from the embarrassing situation.

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

I finally finished exams! blah blah blah. I'm bored af summer and I've been play wuwa! I love PGR Roland so I played cause it's from Kuro games. And omg Geshu Lin!!! He looks like Jing Yuan thats why I like him.

Avneturine Rant: Also I can't help this but I'm becoming obssed with Avneturine. I showed my friend an edit of him. she said he's so fine cause she like white blonde men. I'm starting to fall so inlove with him now! Same level of love with Jing Yuan. I can't Aveneturine is too charming. Didn't like him much at first but god his backstory and that mini anaimation how could I be so Blind! Same situtaion with Jing Yuan.

Also gonna update now

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (2)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The tension between you and Wanda becomes too much and you finally give into her alluring remarks and suggestions. She breaks you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mention of heavy dom/sub dynamic, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.

note: So this is the second instalment and I definitely have never put this much work into the build up of what's basically a shamelessly dirty smutty story, however I hope you enjoy. (the next instalment is where things get super interesting and it will be out soon)

The Art of Submission - Chapter 2

Your heart is still racing, the taste of Wanda’s lips lingering as you lean back, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, more dangerous. 

“I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of yours.” she teases, her finger still resting on her lips as if savouring the kiss, “what are you thinking.” 

You try to compose yourself, offering a playful smile in return. “I’m thinking you’re trouble,” you say, but the voice betrays the thrill surging through you. Wanda’s energy is magnetic and you’re already caught in the strength of her pull. 

She chuckles softly, leaning closer so that her arm brushes against yours again. The subtle contact makes your nerve endings tremble. “Oh, I think you like a little trouble.” She murmurs, her tone smooth as silk. She tilts her head slightly, eyes gleaming as they enter that same darling lock with yours once more. “It's not the writing, is it?” she asks, eyes glistening, “It’s what you’re writing about.”

You shift, unsure of how to answer, but Wanda presses on, her tone softer, coaxing you forward. “You know what you want to say,” She whispers, her fingers brushing a slow maddening path along your thigh. “It’s the feeling you’re struggling with. The way to express it… to make it real.”

Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away, too caught up in the way she’s watching you, her gaze predatory and knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s clear she’s not letting you off easily. 

“What is it that you’re really trying to explore?” Wanda’s voice is like velvet, low and intimate. “Sadomasochism, right? It’s more than just the physical, it's the headspace, the emotional surrender, pushing limits.” Her words stir something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. You nod meekly, almost on instinct, feeling the weight of her hand anchoring you in place. 

“You’re not struggling with the plot,” she continues, her voice soft but relentless, “You’re struggling with how far to take it. How far to go beyond ‘safe.’” Her thumb continues to stroke a slow deliberate circle just above your knee, and your breath catchers at the subtle increase in pressure. “You’ve written about control before, but this is different. This is about letting go completely.” 

With that your pulse is on fire, her words hitting home. It is different. It’s darker and dangerous and Wanda is pushing you toward that edge, darling you to step over it. 

Her lips curve into a slow and wicked smile. “Maybe” She pushes, her voice laced with heat, “you’re scared to write about what you actually want.” Your body tenses at the insinuation and Wanda picks up on it immediately. She doesn’t pull away though, if anything, she leans in closer, her breath brushing the side of your neck. “You want to write about power,” She whispers, her hand sliding higher, the pressure firm but tantalising, “About giving it up, about what it feels like when someone takes it from you.” She pauses, letting her words settle into the heavy air between you, “but the only way to write that truthfully is to understand it.”

Your throat feels tight, your body alive with the tension crackling between you. You can’t find any words, but Wanda doesn’t seem to need them. She reads every flicker of your expression. Every quickening breath makes that wicked smile deepen.

“You can’t fake that kind of intensity darling,” Her voice is almost hypnotic, “You need to feel it. You need to know what it’s like to hand over your control, to be at someone else's mercy.” You feel her fingers move higher up your thigh. She’s testing you, waiting to see how far she can push you before you break. 

“And maybe,” She adds, her hand reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You’re tired of always being the one in control.”

This was when you realised how close she had gotten to you, her hand still on your leg, firm and unyielding, grounding you in the moment as her breath fans across your neck. “It’s okay.” her voice soft but demanding, “to want something different, to want to feel different.”

The tension between you is palpable now, the air charged with the unspoken promise of what could come next. Wanda’s touch, so deliberate, so confident, feels like a silent dare - a challenge to take that next step, to let yourself go. “Tell me,” Her lips are almost brushing yours as she speaks, “What do you really want.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of her question sinks in. Your mind races, torn between the familiar safety of control and the intoxicating allure of surrender. But Wanda’s eyes hold you captive, drawing you deeper into her web and you know there’s no turning back now. 

Wanda’s hand remains a steady weight on your thigh, the heat from her palm seeping into your bare skin. The faint scent of her perfume surrounds you, the intensity of the smell pulling you in deeper. She tilts her head ever so slightly, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder as she studies you, “You’re thinking too much again,” she says, her voice a quiet murmur. Her thumb continues its slow, torturous circle against your thigh. 

“I’m not- I just-.” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. Your hands restless in your lap as you fidget under her unwavering stare, the one that is watching every tiny flicker of emotion that crosses your face. 

“You don’t need to be nervous,” She says slowly, “Not with me.” You can feel her body heat now, the way her knee is pressing against yours, her hand resting higher on your thigh, just enough to remind you of her control without pushing too far. “Look at me.” She demands, her tone firmer now, the authority in her voice making your pulse jump. You turn your head back to her, your eyes meeting hers and she holds your gaze, unrelenting. “You can’t write it if you can’t say it.”

The words feel impossibly heavy on your tongue, but the heat of Wanda’s body so close to yours makes it harder to resist. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself and finally the words come out, shaky and quiet. “I want to give up control.”

Wanda’s smile widens, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Her hand continues to slide higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your tiny black skirt. Her thumb tracing the line of your inner thigh now with an agonising slowness. “Good,” She purrs, her voice dripping with approval, “But that's only part of it, isn’t it?”

You can’t look away from her, your chest tight with anticipation. She’s close enough that you can see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way her lips curve into that teasing smile. Her fingers move again, deliberate, testing, and your body reacts instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Her eyes darken with amusement, “Tell me the rest,” she coaxes, her voice like velvet, “What do you want from me?”

The question hangs between you, and your breath catches itself. Your hands trembling slightly in your lap and you glance down, the words heavy and terrifying as they try to force their way out. Wanda’s touch on your leg is insistent, her presence so overwhelming that you can hardly think straight. 

“I- I want you to-” Your voice wavers, but Wanda’s gaze still doesn’t falter. 

“Go on,” Her fingers brushing just a little higher, dangerously close to where you feel the heat pooling beneath your skin, finally becoming aware of the arousal that had built between your legs, “Say it.”

The tension between you is unbearable, the pull of her command undeniable. You bite your lip, you’d never wanted anybody more than Wanda at this moment. “I want you to take control.” Now, everything feels suspended, the weight of your confession hanging in the charged air between you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She murmurs, her voice teasing your timid and shaky reactions. You shake your head in nervous response, her hand moves again, a millimetre higher, the pressure firmer and you feel your body shudder under her gentle but demanding touch. “Now that you’ve said it, we can explore what it really means.” 

Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar, testing glint dancing in their depths. She leaned back, her posture easy, as if she was weighing her next move carefully. “You know what you want,” Wanda murmured softly, her voice caressing your face, “But you haven’t said it out loud yet.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, “I- I don’t know if I can.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her body leaning towards yours, her fingertips now dancing lightly over her own wrist, an unspoken reminder of the power she held, a soft contrast to the hard edge in her voice. 

Your eyes flickered to the small motion, captivated by the simplicity of it. Her confidence was dizzying, making your chest tighten with a mix of excitement and intimidation. 

“I-” You started, you wanted to tell her, to finally give in to that pull she had over you, but the fear of laying yourself bare - of admitting the truth - made your heart race, “I’m not sure how to say it.”

Wanda’s hand slid from her wrist, gliding across the table between you until it stopped short of touching yours. She hovered there, the warmth from her skin so close you could almost feel it, yet she didn’t make contact. 

“Let me make it easier for you then,” She whispers, her voice laced with control, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you’re afraid to say?” This time she cocks her head, her eyes never leaving your face. Her lips parted slightly as she waited, giving you the space to answer but tightening the leash on the unspoken tension between you. 

Every part of you screamed yes, but your voice remained trapped so all you could do was nod. Wanda’s eyes were still flickering with satisfaction, as though she had expected this. She didn’t move right away, letting the silence build around you, drawing out the longing anticipation until it felt as if time had stopped completely. 

“I didn’t hear you,” She said, her fingers finally brushing the back of your hand, the lightest touch, almost too soft to feel. 

“I want you to touch me.” You could hardly believe you had said it, your voice barely audible, but the words were out now and there was no taking them back.

Wanda’s smirk deepened, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she was having on you. Her fingers shifted over the back of your hand before slipping up to your wrist. She was barely touching you, yet it felt like she had control of every nerve in your body. 

“You see,” she said quietly, her lips brushing the words against the air between you, “this is the kind of power you need to understand. Submission is about giving yourself over completely… even when it scares you.” Her fingers tightened around your wrist, a gentle hold, but there was no mistaking the control she was exerting over you.

Your breath quickened, and you felt your chest rise and fall faster with each passing second. She was pushing you—testing you—but in a way that made you feel safe, even as your body screamed with anticipation.

Wanda’s other hand came to rest on your knee, light at first, but her grip slowly tightened, her thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. It was all you could do to remain still, your muscles tense under her touch, your entire body hyper-aware of every inch of contact.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared back at her. The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe properly. She wasn’t just asking you about the book anymore. She was asking you what you wanted. What you were ready for. “Say it,” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for hesitation, sensing that you were holding back your words.

Your pulse quickened, your body aching with the tension of holding back. “I want to go further,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you even had time to think them through. “I want… to give up control.”

Wanda smiled, her satisfaction evident in the way her fingers flexed against your skin. “Good,” she murmured, her tone dripping with approval. “Then let’s start.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as her lips barely grazed your skin. “But remember... it’s my control now.”

Your body tensed, but not from fear. The tension was different—an anticipation, a feeling like you were about to step off the edge of something and you weren’t sure what lay below. And yet, with Wanda, you felt drawn to that edge, even if it terrified you. She leaned back just slightly, her lips no longer hovering near your ear, but her eyes never left yours, still piercing, still searching.

“Are you ready to surrender?” she asked, her voice low but commanding, her fingers curling just slightly tighter around your wrist. “To give me what I want?”

You couldn’t speak right away. The knot of nerves and excitement twisted inside your stomach, making it hard to find your voice. You swallowed, your lips parting as you struggled to answer.

“I—” you started, but her fingers tightened again, not painfully, but enough to remind you that she was in control now.

“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb stroking lightly across your skin, calming and demanding all at once. “Take a breath. You’re trembling.”

She was right. You hadn’t noticed how much your body was shaking, every nerve ending tingling from her touch, from the intensity of the moment. You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and her grip loosened just enough to give you space to catch your breath.

Wanda’s eyes softened, though the playful glint remained in them. She seemed to enjoy watching you wrestle with the tension between desire and fear. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent of control. “You don’t have to rush. Just tell me how you want this to feel.”

Her hand on your knee shifted slightly, her fingers sliding just a bit higher, making your breath catch again. She was so good at this—so practised, it seemed—like she knew exactly how to push you, how to keep you teetering on that edge.

You licked your lips, your pulse still racing, but your nerves slowly giving way to a sense of surrender. You didn’t want to hold back anymore. You didn’t want to be afraid of what you were feeling. “I want… I want to feel like I’m not in control,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission came out almost like a confession, like you were telling her something you’d barely admitted to yourself.

Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up with approval. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers shifting again, just slightly, but it was enough to send another wave of sensation through you. “And what else?”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to put the words together. “I want you to push me,” you said, your voice more confident now, even if your body still trembled under her touch. “I want to feel like I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Wanda’s smirk deepened, and her fingers slid higher still, her touch achingly slow, deliberate. “You want to be surprised,” she mused, her voice soft but filled with that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken. “You want to be on the edge, not knowing what I’ll do, but trusting that I won’t let you fall.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Wanda’s hand released your wrist, and for a moment you felt the loss of her touch like a sudden drop, your skin buzzing in the absence of her grip. But then, she moved closer, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers brushing the side of your neck. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight—so much promise.

“I can do that,” she whispered, her lips curving into that dangerous smile. “But first…” Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, making your breath hitch. “I want to hear you say it again. Say that you want to surrender.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body feeling heavy with the tension she was weaving around you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. “I want to surrender,” you whispered, your voice stronger, more certain. “To you.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her lips brushing yours for the briefest of moments, a featherlight touch that made your body yearn for more. “Good,” she breathed against your lips. “Then let me show you what it feels like to let go.”

She pulled back just enough to keep the tension hanging between you, her hands moving deliberately down your arms, her touch slow, intentional, as though savouring the moment. Your entire body was on edge, waiting for her next move, but she kept you there—suspended in that delicious tension, every touch, every breath drawn out.

Her fingers slid down your arms, stopping just at your wrists, holding them with a gentle but commanding grip. “Let me take over,” she whispered, her voice so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me guide you.”

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with that single movement, you felt the shift. Wanda was no longer waiting for permission—she was in control now, and you could feel the power dynamic shift, a current running between you that electrified the air. The question wasn’t whether you wanted to give in anymore. The question was how far you were willing to let her take you.

Wanda’s fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along the inside of your wrist, her touch sending a quiet hum of electricity up your arm. She holds your gaze, her eyes darkening, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air heavier.

"You don’t have to be afraid of saying what you want," Wanda whispers, her lips barely moving. Her voice is low, controlled, as if she already knows your answer, but she’s waiting—enjoying the power of making you say it aloud.

You swallow, your throat dry. Her proximity, the subtle scent of her skin, the way her fingers never stop moving—it’s all dizzying. Your mind spins, words getting tangled in the heat between you. "I—"

Wanda tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. She leans in closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Tell me."

It’s not a request—it’s a command, soft but insistent. Her hand slides up, teasingly grazing your collarbone, her fingertips feather-light but purposeful, waiting for you to open the door completely.

“I want...” Your voice falters, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The weight of what’s about to happen presses in from all sides, but there’s something intoxicating in it. Something you can’t pull away from. “I want you to show me.”

Wanda’s smirk deepens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “That’s my girl,” she murmurs, and in that instant, everything shifts.

You’re burning now, every inch of your body is desperate to feel the touch of her, even your mind is beginning to surrender itself to her. Wanda’s eyes finally broke the strong gaze that she had been holding, her glare now roaming down your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly flattering, just a plain white cropped jumper paired with a short black skirt, but Wanda’s eyes still sparkled in delight at the sight of you sitting trembling on the kitchen stool. 

Her grip around your wrist turns into a pull as she closes the gap between them, pushing her lips against yours, dragging her tongue across your bottom lip. You immediately give her the control, allowing her access, the kiss deepening as she slides her hand up the back of your neck, her nails grazing against your skin. You whine into her mouth and you can feel her lips curve into that same smile as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth, lightly tugging. 

As she pulls away, her hand trails from your neck down your back, just one finger tracing the line all the way down your spine. “Are you comfortable with this?” Wanda asks, her voice deeper, laced with lust. You nod, your hand roaming to the back of her neck, gesturing for her to come back. “No, you need to learn to use your words honey.”

“Yes I’m comfortable.” You say, your voice laden with confidence all of a sudden and the look that this earned you made you understand why you would do anything she asked of you. 

“Oh, sweet girl, that’s better.” Wanda praises and your cheeks flush scarlet in response. Her finger traces the outline of your jaw, her hand stopping against your chin, guiding you face upwards to meet her stare. With the length of your neck exposed, she leans in to make gentle kisses against your skin, the back of her hand keeping your neck rigid against her lips. You could feel your thighs squeezing together, the slow anticipation and sudden grazes of her teeth driving you crazy.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wanda warns, spreading your thighs back open just enough that she can stand between your legs. Her hands roam down the underneath of your thighs, her touches so gentle that you were surprised you were so desperate for her. Her fingers kept brushing closer towards where you needed her, your hips rolling towards her hand in a desperate attempt for any contact. “I need to establish a few things with you okay?” 

You nod and you can see her suck her tongue between her teeth, the tilt of her head and the dark disapproving look that emerged immediately made you feel shameful in yourself, “Sorry, Yes Wanda.” Her frown turned into a smile, one that made your entire core shake. 

This time as her hand edged closer to you, she didn’t stop, allowing her fingers to lightly brush your dampened underwear, an excited gasp eliciting from the redhead as your head hangs in prolonged anticipation. “Much better, you see when you do what I want, you get rewarded.” Wanda was laying down her expectations of you, but your brain was fuzzy as her fingers continued to explore the edges of your underwear that had become completely soaked in the process. 

You begin to grip the sides of your stool as you feel Wanda dip her finger underneath the drenched material, gently skimming the length of your sensitive skin, not giving you what you needed but enough to make you tremble. Her stance between your legs, your head leaning to rest against her chest as she felt her way through the wetness that she found between your legs. 

“When you do something against what I’ve told you, for whatever reason, you will get punished.” Wanda states, removing her fingers from you, leaving you without any contact. You whine at the loss, hips jutting against your will in an attempt to regain some friction. “Do you know what you like?”

You shake your head, brain foggy with desperation. Wanda pinches the skin between your thighs and you yelp in pain, “No Wanda.” You say, immediately correcting yourself

“That’s okay, we can talk about it and I can help you explore these things.” She demands and you swallow hard as she bites her lip feeling the thrill of your innocent vulnerability. “From now on you’ll be my good girl, and I’ll guide you through this, do you understand?”

“Yes Wanda.” With your immediate submission to her rules, her eyes darken with intensity as she replaces her hand back to where you needed her. You gasp at the immediate contact against your clit, her fingers skilfully finding your bundle of nerves beneath your underwear, gently tapping the pad of her finger against it. 

“I know you’re familiar with the traffic light system.” Wanda continues, referencing your latest novel, a blush forming in your already flushed cheeks at the reminder that this is what led her into your apartment. “But this is very important, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want to slow down, just say your colour.”

“I understand.” You pant through breathy gasps, Wanda’s taps had become circles against your bundle of nerves and you could feel your core burning as she sent jolts of electricity through your body with nothing but gentle touches. 

“That’s it, you’re getting the hang of it, pretty girl.” A soft moan erupted from your lips at her words and Wanda’s gaze dances over your face, warmth radiating from her eyes as she cherishes in their first moment. She lifts your chin once again so your eyes finally meet and she smiles at the lust and desperation hidden within the depth of your eyes.

You feel your orgasm nearing as Wanda speeds up her movements, her grip on your chin forcing you to look at her as she unravels you in your own kitchen. “Rule one, you don’t cum unless I give you the permission to do so.” Her voice was commanding and authoritative, her look fierce and unwavering, making it clear that she knows exactly what she wants. 

“Y-yes.” You manage to get out, your body shaking as Wanda increased the pressure on your swollen clit, the short breathy moans that escaped your lips driving her forward, not wanting to tease you now, just wanting to see what you look like when you’re brought to the very edge, longing to see your head throw back and whine her name as she takes you over the brink. 

“You’re close aren’t you princess.” Wanda exclaims, her smile not once leaving her lips as she tilts your head backwards slightly, forcing you to look up at her with a longing desperation that she couldn’t wait to draw out in the future. 

“Wanda, please let me cum, I’m so close.” Your body was itching you closer and closer towards your orgasm but you were determined to wait for her order, wanting to prove yourself to her. 

“Hold it for me, you can do it.” Wanda instructs and you whine against her grip on your chin, doing everything you can to hold it back, every nerve in your body on fire as she relentlessly works against your clit. 

“I can’t, I need-” You splutter, slamming your hand into the counter, doing everything you could. Your fingers are gripping the counter, so tightly that your knuckles turn white trying to fight for control. You tilt your head back further, lips parting in a silent plea, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation becomes almost too much to bear. Even with your eyes closed you can feel Wanda’s gaze on you, a silent command for you to wait, keeping you just on the edge, right where she wants you.

Wanda leans closer, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shudder, barely able to hold on, her voice a soft, commanding whisper, ‘Beg for it.’

“Wanda,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and longing. The way her name rolls off your tongue feels almost sacramental, a plea that resonates deep within you. You shift your weight, leaning slightly closer, as if the proximity could bridge the gap between your need and her control.“Please... I need—” You pause, swallowing hard, the heat pooling in your cheeks, shame and excitement mingling in a dizzying dance. “I need your permission.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with vulnerability. You can feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through your veins, your body alive with the struggle of restraint. You take a steadying breath, grounding yourself as your fingers twist into the fabric again, a subtle plea for her to grant you this one thing.

“Please let me...” The words falter for a moment, but you force them out, the urgency driving you forward. “I can’t hold back anymore. I want to let go... but I need you to say it.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, raw and real, and you can see the flicker of something in Wanda's eyes—a mixture of pride and hunger. You lean in slightly, tilting your head, your gaze unwavering as you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to make that connection, to pull you from the precipice you’re hanging on.

Wanda’s smile widens, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, teasing your senses. She leans in closer, her warm breath fanning across your skin, igniting every nerve ending in your body. “But you know what you have to do to earn that release, don’t you?” Her swift circles against your clit were becoming stronger, the continuous roll of her contact pushing you closer and closer to an edge that you thought you’d already reached.

Your heart pounds harder, each beat resonating with the anticipation of what’s to come. You nod, swallowing hard, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue, begging to escape. Wanda watches you, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of authority and desire, and in that moment, you know that she holds the power to grant you the freedom you crave.

“Say it,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. “Tell me what you want.” 

The air is thick with tension, and your body betrays you, trembling with the weight of your desire. You take a breath, feeling every fibre of your being attuned to her, your vulnerability laid bare. “I want... I want to come,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with desperation.

For a moment, she holds your gaze, the intensity of her stare igniting something primal within you. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “I want you to let go, to feel everything I’ve been promising you. When I give you permission, you can release all that pent-up desire.”

You feel the flood of relief and exhilaration coursing through you, a wave of warmth washing over your body at her words. “Yes... please,” you urge, each syllable laced with a sense of urgency. “I need it, Wanda.”

With a slow, deliberate smile, she nods, her expression shifting to one of wicked delight. “Then go ahead, my sweet girl. You have my permission, cum for me.”

The moment the words leave her lips, a rush of sensation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your body surrendering to the intoxicating pull of release. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for, and in that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure that Wanda has granted you. Wanda continues circling your clit, helping you ride out the orgasm that you’d so desperately waited for. 

Once the pleasure has washed over you, all you can do is sit with Wanda standing between your legs, her brazen eyes beating down at you, her fingers still massaging into your thighs, sensing the sensitivity from your subtle squirms in response to her touch. 

“My god Wanda.” You say in utter astonishment at the woman's talent and it was her turn for her cheeks to grow slightly blushed at the praise, “I’ve never felt like that before, you’re incredible.”

“So you want this?” Wanda blushes, that dominating persona slowly breaking down at a few compliments. You mentally noted that down, knowing that it would come in useful at a later date. 

“I want nothing more than to do whatever this is with you.” You state honestly, your body still burning. You reach up to tuck her auburn hair behind her ear, the one strand that had been sat directly in front of her eyeline the entire evening. 

With that you exchanged numbers and you found yourself eagerly sitting waiting for the first text.

[strwbrrykthv]

pt 2 to this story, but can be read alone. sorry it took so long i have a full time big girl job. and i need like a crazy amount of motivation. this ones big cheesy bc theyre drunk. not proofread!!!

cw: alcohol, sexual tension if u squint

katsuki assumed the group was going to one of those karaoke bars with the private rooms where its just your friend group cheering each other on, so imagine his surprise when sero and denki lead them to this american style bar with a bright led sign that reads ‘open mic karaoke night.’

“you have got to be kidding me” he grumbles as he pushes the door open to reveal an almost filled bar. “theres just a bunch of drunk middle aged people here.”

“katsuki be nice. denks said he really likes this place,” you scold him from his right, still connected to his side.

“yo guys theres a couple of tables up front by the stage. im going to go order a round of shots if you want to head up there and start warming up your voice,” sero winks which causes katsuki to groan again, even louder. as you make your way to the tables, mina pulls you towards her the table she’s sat at leaving katsuki to sit beside denki… again.

as the night continues and drinks are ordered, you finally get the courage to request a song. its a duet and luckily sero agrees to do it with you. your friends are cheering you on as slur through the lyrics of neva play by megan thee stallion.

the only line you say fully is “three things i don’t play about, myself, my money, or my man,” as you point at katsuki who just nods at the proclamation that he is, in fact, your man.

the song ends, and you make your way down to your seat that is opposite his as his eyes follow you. they don’t leave you even as izuku and ochaco sing some love song. he doesn’t care if youre not looking back at him, his favorite thing to do is just watch you, especially when hes got a few drinks in his system. which, honestly, makes him sound like a creep, but you know the difference between feeling his gaze on you and feeling a sleaze balls watching you.

you’re pretty much at your limit when mina orders another round of shots for both of your tables, and instead of being happy you feel your mouth instinctively fill with saliva.

katsuki could read your body language like book, so as they were handing out the shots he quickly took his and got up to go to you. “hey, mama, how about i take this shot, then sing that dumb song with the guys, and then we go home? how does that sound?”

he may not be slurring, but hes very close to being more drunk than hes ever been in public. he knows your shot plus his is what will probably throw him over that edge, but he doesn’t want your night to be ruined by throwing up in the bathroom.

you blink up at him and nod slowly. in your drunken daze you are just so mesmerized by him. his soft red eyes, his spiky hair thats fallen just a little, the scar on his face that only you get to touch, his shoulders…. yeah you really want to go home.

he grabs the glass from the table, but you stop him, “wait, can i give it to you?” you ask as you’re reaching for the glass. he doesnt respond, just lets you take the glass from his hand.

he knows all of your shared friends are watching because they can sense the shift in energy between you two. you stand from your chair as katsuki sinks to his knees in the grimy bar. you hold his jaw with one hand as he opens his mouth for you to pour the shot, never breaking eye contact.

he returns to his full towering height after swallowing the shot and turns to look at all of your friends who just watched the interaction with wide eyes and mouths open in shock. you reach up to swipe away a drop on his chin that managed to miss his mouth with a smile too innocent for what just occurred.

“thank you, suki,” you say as you drop your hand. “now go sing me a song!”

he pats your hip as he moves past you to stand on the stage next to kirishima, sero, and kaminari who picked the song. he feels a little more buzzed than before after standing up and moving, and he’s almost positive he’s going to slur around the words when it’s his turn.

youre halfway paying attention, just watching katsuki as grabs a mic when you hear the first notes of mr. brightside and burst into laughter. you cannot believe they got him up there without bribing him.

the song continues and you drunkenly wolf whistle after the end of katsuki’s turn. he sends you a middle finger that holds no meaning by the way his ears are red.

the song finishes and he makes his way to where youre seated, reaching a hand out to you. you gladly take it and spring out of your seat stumbling into him causing katsuki to instinctively wrap his free arm around your waist, holding you to him.

“you did amazing up there,” you whisper, “you shouldve been a singer instead of a hero.”

he scoffs as he looks down at you. “yeah? then i wouldve never met you.”

your body buzzes when he talks to you like this. “oh yeah. we wouldve found each other some way. were, like, soulmates.”

katsuki closes his eyes at your words to try and keep his heart from beating so fast. he knows you mean more than just friends soulmates, but he also knows right now the only label the two of you can have is “just friends who sometimes cuddle, sometimes kiss, sometimes do more, and are always together if one of them has a break” type of friends in order to keep you safe.

“mhmm, we are. now, whaddaya say we go home and go to sleep?” he hums.

“yes i would like that a lot. we have to talk everyone bye though.”

“no we don’t. they know youre leaving with me itll be okay.” he says still holding you by the waist but moving to your side to guide you outside to call a taxi.

youre already snoring by the time you arrive at katsukis apartment. he carries you from the car to his door before having to regretfully put you down.

“mama, you awake enough to stand up? i gotta get my keys out.” he asks setting you down beside him near the wall. you just hum with your eyes barely open, watching him.

“i had a lot of fun with you tonight ‘suki. and i know denki only came over to me earlier because he said something to you. i like being with you any way i can and i dont care what our friends say.” youre slurring your words and speaking softly during to sleep threatening to take over.

“and what do our friends say?” he asks opening the door and guiding you inside his apartment and to his bedroom.

“that its dumb to call ourselves friends when we dont do anything just friends do.” youre kicking off your heels and removing your clothes as hes digging in his dresser to find you a shirt to sleep in. “but i dont think its dumb…..”

katsuki just shakes his head as he walks over to you and helps you put the shirt on over your head. “its not,” is all he says.

“no!” youre a little more awake now. “its not! because i know you love me and you know i love you and thats all that matters because everyone else can kiss our asses.” you say with a small smile wrapping your arms around his neck.

“yup. thats right mama. youre all mine and im all yours. now, are you ready to go to bed yet?” he asks while leading you backwards to the bed.

you release him crawling into his bed and waiting for him to follow. he strips down to his boxers while you watch before getting under to covers next to you.

he pulls you in to lay youre head on his chest as your starting to close your eyes.

“if you throw up on me in your sleep im going to kill you” he warns.

but its too late. youre already asleep and you werent going to pay attention to him anyway.

DO NOT COPY OR PLAGIARIZE.

hope you guys liked it and it wasn’t cringe!

[estellan0vella]

No Papa ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna & Toji (REQUESTED) Masterlist

Satoru approaches you with his trademark grin, eyes twinkling with mischief behind his sunglasses. He leans in for a kiss, but before he can make contact, your baby girl wedges herself between you two. She pouts, tiny arms outstretched as if to shield you from her father.

“Hey, what's this?” Satoru laughs, trying to manoeuvre around her. But she’s determined, pushing at his chest with surprising force for someone so small.

“No, Papa! Mama’s mine!” she declares, glaring at him with all the ferocity her little face can muster.

Satoru's laughter echoes through the room as he steps back, hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I see how it is. Mama’s all yours, princess.”

You chuckle, pulling your daughter into your lap. She snuggles against you, shooting her father a triumphant look. He gives you a playful wink, clearly amused by the whole situation.

“Guess I’ll just have to earn some kisses later,” he says, blowing a kiss to you both. Your daughter giggles, finally satisfied that she’s successfully warded off her father.

Suguru walks into the living room, his smile softening as he sees you playing with your baby boy on the floor. He approaches, intending to greet you with a kiss. But as he bends down, your son crawls over with surprising speed, inserting himself between you two.

“No, Papa! My Mama!” he exclaims, arms spread wide as if to protect you from Suguru's advances.

Suguru chuckles, a deep, warm sound that fills the room. “Is that so? You’re guarding Mama, huh?”

Your son nods vigorously, looking up at him with big, serious eyes. Suguru raises an eyebrow, amused. He crouches down to your son’s level, ruffling his hair gently.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to upset my little guardian,” he says with a grin. “I guess Mama’s off-limits for now.”

You smile, pulling your son close and kissing the top of his head. He beams, satisfied with his victory. Suguru stands back up, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Looks like I’ll have to wait for my turn,” he says, giving you a loving glance. “But I’m not giving up that easily.”

Nanami returns home after a long day, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. He walks over, intending to greet you with a kiss, but your baby has other ideas.

"Papa, stop!" your little one shouts, rushing to stand between you and Nanami.

Nanami raises an eyebrow, his expression amused but patient. "What's this, little one?"

Your baby puffs out their chest. "Mama is mine!"

Nanami glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Is that so?"

You shrug, laughing softly. "Seems like it."

Nanami kneels down to face your baby. "Alright, how about a compromise? If I promise to read your favorite story later, can I have a kiss from Mama?"

Your baby hesitates, considering the offer. After a moment, they nod reluctantly. "Just one, Papa."

Nanami smiles, reaching out to gently ruffle their hair. "Thank you." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your baby watches closely, then nods in approval once it's over.

"Story time now, Papa!" they demand, grabbing his hand.

Nanami chuckles, standing up and leading them to the living room. "Alright, a promise is a promise."

Choso walks into the living room, his usual stoic expression softening as he sees you sitting with your baby boy. He moves to kiss you, but your son immediately intervenes, crawling over to block his path.

“No, Papa! Mama’s mine!” he declares, his tiny hands pushing against Choso’s legs.

Choso blinks in surprise, then lets out a rare, soft laugh. “Is that so? You’re keeping Mama all to yourself?”

Your son nods vigorously, holding onto you tightly. Choso crouches down, a gentle smile on his face as he regards your son. “I see. I suppose I’ll have to respect that.”

You smile, pulling your son into your lap and kissing the top of his head. He beams up at you, satisfied with his success. Choso watches the two of you, his eyes filled with a tender warmth.

“Well, I’ll let you have Mama for now,” he says, standing back up. “But I get her when you're asleep"

You laugh, and Choso gives you a knowing look, clearly enjoying the playful rivalry. Your son giggles, content to have won this round.

Sukuna strides into the room, his usual smirk in place. He sees you and makes his way over, intending to claim a kiss. However, your baby quickly positions themselves between you two.

"Papa, no!" they declare, their tiny hands raised in defiance.

Sukuna arches an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? And why not?"

Your baby puffs out their chest. "Mama is mine!"

Sukuna chuckles darkly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Without warning, he scoops your baby up with one hand, holding them effortlessly in the air as they wiggle and protest. "Papa, no fair!"

"All's fair in love and war," Sukuna replies smoothly, leaning in to kiss you deeply. You smile against his lips, finding the situation both amusing and endearing.

Your baby eventually gives up, realizing they can't win against their father's strength. Sukuna pulls back, setting your baby down gently.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he teases, ruffling their hair.

Your baby huffs, crossing their arms but eventually relenting as Sukuna's charm works its magic.

Toji walks into the room, his eyes immediately seeking you out. He moves to kiss you, but your son, sitting in your lap, lets out a loud wail and reaches up to push him away.

Toji raises an eyebrow. "Already staking your claim, huh?" he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You laugh, gently rubbing your son’s back. "Looks like someone’s not in the mood to share Mama today."

Toji tries again, leaning in slowly, but your son’s protests only get louder. "Alright, kiddo, I get it," he says, stepping back. "Mama’s all yours."

Your son glares at Toji with an intensity that’s both adorable and fierce. You shake your head, amused. "He’s very protective."

Toji sighs, though he’s clearly more amused than annoyed. "I’ll just have to wait my turn, then."

You give him an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

He waves it off, sitting down beside you. "No need to apologize. I like seeing him so attached to you."

You lean over and give Toji a quick kiss on the cheek. "He’ll warm up eventually."

Toji grins. "I’m counting on it."

[kumkaniudaku]

Pop Quiz

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

Noise complaints ran $25 a pop in Asia's building. Twenty-five dollars from her bank account and an awkward conversation with Alister when they crossed paths on Asia's way to the parking garage early the following Thursday morning. 

"Please, don't take this wrong, but you and your friend are…loud. You gave our book club quite the show last weekend." 

Asia could still feel the rise of bile in her throat while she listened to her usually quiet next-door neighbor explain every single sound and shout from her and Kelvin's escapades in extremely graphic detail. The taste seared into her tastebuds, following Asia into the afternoon's internal review. At the same time, Savannah, the brand lead, ran through slides outlining the wonderful world of influencer marketing to sell mid-tier poison their client called alcohol. 

Desperate for a break from endless droning and word soup, Asia carefully took a screenshot of her noise complaint charge and copied it into a message for Kelvin to reawaken a thread that regularly kept them up into the wee hours of the morning. 

Her mental vacation ended before it could start, forcing her back into the action. She placed her phone face down on the large conference table and tried to refocus while waiting for any sign that he'd received her attachment. She didn't have to wait for long. Asia's lips curled into a goofy grin when Kelvin broke eye contact from the presentation to glance at the message notification on his laptop screen. He maintained an impenetrable poker face to take pretended notes, exaggerating every deliberate tap against backlit black keys. 

Kel You lowkey were kinda loud when we got back. It was cute.  I'll pay. Zelle or ApplePay?

Asia bit back a smile at blurred flashbacks of the wall clock above her television ticking down the seconds til midnight with Kelvin's face back between her legs, pushing her past her limits for his pleasure and hers. Her fingers danced across the phone's digital keyboard.

Pretty Girl 💖💚 Don't worry about it.  I had to be loud to cover for you.

Kelvin's grey bubble appeared and disappeared twice before vanishing altogether. Asia tried not to stare at the side of his head, hoping the telepathy she swore existed as a child still worked.  She looked at Savannah and noted the color on her perfectly shaped nails. Then, she counted the grey hairs in the strategy director's beard, stopping at 35 before growing tired of the neverending task. Her attention shifted to the typo on the recap slide as she made a mental note to flag it in her post-meeting notes. A cough in the room made her ears perk for a second to determine if the offender was sick or dealing with a dry throat. Definitely sick. What she could make for dinner floated around with other fragmented thoughts. Potatoes, maybe? Pasta? 

Unfortunately for her, nothing could hold her attention quite like the man coolly clicking-clacking on his sticker-covered laptop, seemingly unconcerned with her last text. 

Kel I like the way you taste. Sue me.  ApplePay: $28 Extra for the transfer

Static enveloped Asia's entire body, sending shock waves straight to the apex of her thighs until she was forced to cross her legs to stifle what she was sure would sound like a kitten's purr if she didn't put a muzzle on it quickly. 

A smug smile graced Kelvin's otherwise expressionless face to add further insult to injury. In his periphery, Asia sat perfectly flustered with no outlet for all the squirming she tried to hide. Squirming that instantly reminded him of how he couldn't let her leave him on Saturday night without kissing both sets of lips one more time. 

"Asia, can you update us on the timeline?" 

Time lost to reliving every atom-splitting, toe-curling moment from the weekend left Asia scrambling to rearrange windows on her laptop to fulfill Savannah's perfectly reasonable yet ill-timed request. "Uh, yeah! One…one second." 

She silently thanked the creator for protecting her screen from prying eyes while she tried to cosplay as a serious businesswoman. Sweat beading at her temples attempted to crack Asia's facade. Still, she recovered with a dancer's grace with nanoseconds to spare before a quick pause turned into awkward silence. 

"Alright, cool. Sorry about that. Thursday is basically Friday for my brain," she apologized, earning mumbling agreement from her peers. "So, yeah, we're tracking toward Friday's round one client review. Andy, you'll take over copy duties for Kelvin since he's moving on to greener pastures at the end of the week." 

Varying degrees of disappointment bubbled from the small group, forcing Kelvin to clarify Asia's intentionally vague announcement. "Greener pastures as in new business, y'all." Kelvin used a charming smile to douse burgeoning speculation sure to follow news of his departure. He shot Asia a warning look meant for her understanding alone. She shrugged to play innocent, and he chuckled at her act. "But, I'll take one of those goin' away happy hours like Ty's if y'all wanna give me one." 

"Speaking of Ty's thing, are we cool with La Chila down the block? My wife says I gotta get more steps in for our family weight loss challenge. A walk to an early dinner counts, right?" 

"Walking off ten calories to eat 700 in one sitting is insane, Chris." 

Savannah's patented matter-of-fact quip generated enough uncontrollable laughter to distract the team from Asia's half-baked project timeline and Kelvin's air kiss in response to her middle finger emoji sent via Teams. 

For all the time spent discussing boundaries and ways of working through their unconventional arrangement, remaining purely professional during their three days in the office was by far the easiest line in the sand to stay behind. They kept a careful distance, never spent time without another party present, kept electronic chats on work devices to a minimum, and never ever discussed their weekends as two parts of a whole when the topic inevitably reared its head during group lunches. 

But, try as they might, rumors swirled in private pockets of office gossip until all interested parties were gathered over creamy, spicy queso and post-work margaritas.

Kelvin sat next to Asia as innocently as he knew how, ignoring the urge to rest his hand on her thigh while they whispered over which entrees they'd choose for the evening. Asia leaned into his body to share one menu despite having her own inches from her fingertips. She listened to Kelvin's recommendations with a soft smile and starry eyes, making sour cream and pinto beans seem like the most interesting inventions since the portable CD player. They were like magnets pulled together by an unseen force, unable to resist the other. 

Already two shots and a celebratory sombrero dance number in, Ty used his privilege as the guest of honor to point in the duo's direction. "You two are super cute together. Aren't they super cute together, Sav?" 

Always his partner in crime and cocktails, Savannah excitedly agreed as she waived an uneaten tortilla chip around in the air. "Oh my God, yes! I always thought that but, like, didn't want to be the blonde white girl shipping the two black people on the team." 

"Well, I am black, and I think so too." Asia and Kelvin shot individual glares in Sidney's direction. She shrugged and smirked. "What! I can spot two hot people who need to be hot together from a mile away. I'm the one who hooked Ty up with Eric in analytics." 

"And, while we despise each other now for reasons I won't share, it was fun while it lasted!" 

Kelvin played it cool for both of them, calmly shifting his torso away from Asia to pluck a chip from the communal basket. "I hate to break up the love fest, but nothing is going on between us. We're work friends." 

"At best," Asia added. 

Ouch. Kelvin internally bristled at her unprompted callout with his cold beer bottle's amber tip pressed against his bottom lip. "At best." 

If they'd tried harder, maybe they could've convinced Chris, Savannah, Sidney, Maddie, or a very tipsy Ty that what they had was a surface-level, totally uninvolved friendship. And, though they had no proof outside of speculation in a side chat, they all vowed to keep an eye on Thing 1 and Thing 2. 

"Yeah. Alright," Sidney scoffed. "Friends at best. That's what we'll go with today. Everybody starts off as friends until that regular hug turns into a mouth hug. Ask my fiancé." 

Chris groaned and ran both palms down his beet-red face. "Ya know, every time we have one of these, I leave knowing way too much about you, Sid. Fuckin' gross!" 

_______________

Though margaritas had long been finished and Ty's desk was now just an empty surface waiting for a new tenant by Friday morning, Asia couldn't roll into her girl's night at Sabrina's without Sidney's accusation searing a hole into her memory. 

Were they just friends? She'd long reckoned with the reality that physical intimacy wasn't enough to swing the pendulum in the dating direction. This was an arrangement for experience's sake, not one designed to turn weekend touching into date nights and meeting the parents. 

But, she couldn't shake how Kelvin tensed at the mention of their working relationship or how acknowledging there was no room for more wilted the sprout of hope she'd been watering since the art show. He didn't correct her, and she couldn't bring it up because, well, they were playing by her rules. And you can't switch the rules in the middle of the game. That's cheating. 

"Wings or pizza? Or and? Wings and pizza?" 

Sabrina contemplating their options for "cheat day" yanked Asia back from a rapidly progressing mental spiral. She sipped from her glass of white wine before responding. "Depends. You getting it from the spot around the corner?" 

"Duh," Sabrina scoffed while scrolling through the restaurant's online menu. "If I'm gonna cheat, I wanna enjoy it! Give me something to look forward to for next time." 

"Um, are we still talking about food?"

The pair eyed each other from opposite ends of the couch, sporting grins threatening to explode into a fit of giggles. "I am if you are," Sabrina answered before slurping from her glass. Her eyes shifted to the ceiling to avoid facing Asia's judgment. "But, I'm not if you're not." 

"Let's not even go there! You turned over a new leaf this week." Asia was more than privy to her friend's past transgressions. Old Sabrina was ruthless in her pursuit of happiness. New and Improved Sabrina was more settled in her relationship. Or, if nothing else, a better liar. 

Before Asia could remind her host about the edibles she promised to furnish for their all-night Living Single binge, her phone buzzed beneath her thigh to steal a second of her attention. 

Kel ??? My place this weekend? Pls Wanna make you a better steak than the one at the restaurant

Each short buzz in her palms made Asia giddy as she suppressed a squeal and mulled over how to reply. Her thumbs typed, deleted, typed, deleted, hovered, then typed again to craft a worthwhile response. 

To: Kel Might need to actually hear you say pls. idk. sounds fake.

Sabrina watched her friend's grin outshine the LED lights bathing her in a faint blue glow from her crossed-leg position on the floor. She tried not to snoop but felt left out. She used a drawn-out sigh to pry Asia's attention away from her phone screen. 

"Is that the boy? Art Hoe?" 

Asia kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. "I said that as a joke! His name is Kelvin, and yes, that was him. Just confirming some plans for tomorrow." 

"So, is he like…your boyfriend? Y'all dating? Catch me up!" In their decade as sorority sisters and close friends, Sabrina knew of only one romantic interest in Asia's life: Joshua. Tall, dark, and effortlessly flirtatious, what started as innocent flirting while completing their work-study program crashed and burned into weeks of snotty crying. Mary J. Blige cranked to ungodly volumes inside their shared off-campus apartment. Six weeks of heavy-petting caused a lifetime of hurt Sabrina was sure ruined Asia for good. 

Until three weeks ago, when text messages began interrupting their evenings of alone time. Sabrina would consider all the pesky interruptions water under the bridge if Asia was willing to come off of her secret lover and fill out the details of their peculiar relationship. 

Asia wrestled with sharing until the buzz of Sauvignon Blanc convinced her that someone should know about the man keeping her holed up inside her place once a week—for safety purposes, of course. 

Sabrina scooted closer to the edge of her floor pillow once Asia opened her mouth to speak but eeked out a girlish squeak instead. Asia calmed herself with a deep breath and then dished in one breath. "I don't know what the fuck we're doing, but damn it's good." 

"Oooooh, Asia's got a boyfrieeeeend!" Sabrina teased. 

"Not a boyfriend! We're just hanging out. He's…helping me with something?" 

The murkiness in Asia's 'something' made Sabrina press for more. "Something like what? He hanging TVs or laying pipe?" The end of her question awakened a twinkle in Asia's eye like a code word, effectively dropping Sabrina's jaw to the floor. "Oh my God! Are you…are you having sex?" 

Asia shrank back, finding herself no match for the immediate shyness sending heat to her face. "Kinda? He offered to help when we were out one night, and I said yes. We have a lesson every weekend, and he –" 

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Sabrina interjected as she waved her hands in front of her face. "Hold up. That man is teaching you how to fuck every weekend? That's where you been for damn near a month?" When Asia sheepishly nodded in the affirmative, Sabrina stood to dramatically throw her body on the couch. "Bitch. Spill right now, or I will kick you out of my house!" 

There was no sense in hiding the truth. Sabrina would press until she was satisfied with Asia's answer, completely unraveling any suspected lie thrown her way. Asia needed to be thorough. No stone left unturned. No racey detail left untold. No story too insignificant to go unshared. 

In the middle of Asia, recollecting how Kelvin had her gasping for air the previous weekend, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. 'Kel' lit up the screen. 1 Audio Message sat underneath his contact name like gold at the end of an unexpected rainbow. 

Asia chewed her lip, tossing the idea of opening his gift with an additional set of ears in the immediate vicinity. "He just sent a voice note."

"You gon' play it?" Enthusiasm sent Sabrina inching closer for a better view of Asia's phone screen. "Play it!" 

If not for curiosity gnawing at her mind and her friend's insistence, Asia would've left the message unplayed until she returned to the privacy of her own home. She had to know why a one-word request took three minutes and a few extra seconds. What was so important that he needed an entire song's length to get it all out? 

Her finger quickly tapped the play button to pop the cork on Kelvin's response.

Rustling greeted Asia and Sabrina first. Then, a steady, deep breath filled an otherwise silent recording. 

"Fuck." The audible squelch of skin on lubricated skin mingled with strangled moaning until he could speak again. "You just want me to beg? That's okay. I'll beg for you." 

Sabrina's hand floated up to cover her open mouth. "Girl, is he…?" 

"Shh!" 

Asia couldn't pry herself away from the primal nature of each grunt and groan, no matter how much she attempted to will her body into action. Long, drawn-out moans quickly grew into choppy gasps. Curses devolved into fragmented pleas. Her name became a breathy chant until he'd worked himself into a tizzy. "Please, Asia?" 

Registering coherent thoughts turned into a chore, leaving Sabrina to undertake stopping the recording before she knew more about Kelvin than she planned for one sitting. 

They sat in stunned silence together, waiting for the other to break the ice. Asia slowly turned toward Sabrina to do the honors. "I need you to teach me how to suck dick. I'm talking 2014 Sabrina levels." 

"Okay, first of all, that was a special time that can't be recreated," Sabrina answered before taking a long sip of wine. She'd long retired from legendary status on their college campus. Her jersey was in the proverbial rafters, making her a first-ballot Hall of Famer, able to bask in her long list of accomplishments and leave the game behind. But duty called. Asia watched her friend's lips slide into a smile before Sabrina sat back against the couch. "Second of all, Asia," she cooed as she lunged forward to wrap her friend in a hug. "You like him! Oh my goodness, this is so cute!" 

Asia released a pitiful sound into her hands that eclipsed Sabrina's excited squeals. "I do. Fuuuuuck, I do!"

Realization felt like a prime Muhammad Ali punch to the face. She did like Kelvin. Try as she might, through all the so-called boundaries and walls she'd built for protection, the growing vines of feelings continued to grip her into its warm embrace. She liked him.

"Let's go. I got you!" 

The couch shifting and lightening under Sabrina's retreating weight made Asia's eyes open in surprise. "That's it?" Confusion knitted her brown as she sat up straight to catch Sabrina sliding a light jacket over her arms and sliding her phone into her pocket. "Wait, where are you going?" 

"We are going to the sex store. You gotta drive, though. Eric has my car." She answered while sliding her feet into slippers. When Asia didn't immediately make moves to venture into the chilly night air, Sabrina looked her up and down. "Or you could practice on the dick I got back there, but I have to boil it first. Me and Denzel had a time last night!" 

Asia didn't mean to gag at the thought of putting her friend's used dildo in her mouth as she gathered her keys and phone from the coffee table, but she couldn't control the reflex. "You're nasty," she mumbled en route to the front door. 

"Oh, baby, you haven't seen nasty yet. Just wait." Asia passing in front of Sabrina to exit provided the perfect opportunity for the taller woman to land a hard smack on her friend's ass and laugh, earning a sharp gasp in reaction as the sound reverberated against the hallway walls. 

"Ugh, I'm about to make a mini-me! I'm so excited!"

_______________

All three minutes and a few seconds of Kelvin's begging weren't in vain. 

With the sun setting beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking bustling downtown streets, Asia couldn't help but pat herself on the back. If she was going to choose any acquaintance to casually fuck and try not to fall for on her way to self-discovery, she was glad it was one with impeccable design taste and a view. 

Canvas art and eccentric sculptures in every corner turned an ordinary space into something of an art gallery. Incense burning near the souped-up entertainment stand filled the room with something rugged and masculine Asia couldn't place but loved all the same. Family photos hung in the entryway gave her a glimpse of his life outside of the buddle they'd created. They looked like a jolly bunch, each with identically toothy grins and peanut butter skin tones. A look at his waffle boucle couch had her wondering what it'd be like to spend a rainy Sunday morning cuddled up with Kelvin's chest pressed to her back and his lips leaving soft kisses on her neck.

She hadn't seen much beyond his open-concept floorplan and the large kitchen with enough appliances to make Martha Stewart light up with joy. Before she arrived with dessert, she doubted Kelvin's ability to whip up anything outside of boy dinner or the occasional pancake. Never did she imagine the fragrant aroma of handcrafted cowboy butter spread across expensive cuts of steak. Creamy mashed potatoes sat steaming beside perfectly cooked broccolini, waiting for the entree to finish and for Kelvin to remove his hand from Asia's bra. 

He kept her pressed against his island, one hand holding him steady against cold quartz and the other palming one breast while their tongues and lips danced a coordinated waltz to share the citrusy bite of orange-flavored sparkling water.

Asia broke their kiss first for a deep breath to treat her weak knees. "You're gonna burn the food," she warned as Kelvin drug his lips down the side of her neck. 

"I'm paying attention. Got about a minute. Come here."  

Their plans for a "more intense" session were doomed by Aunt Flo and her scheduled appearance. Asia insisted on calling the evening a wash and rescheduling for a better time, but Kelvin refused. More than anything, he liked spending time wrapped in her presence. Her prancing around his apartment in her helper's apron and a matching lounge set felt just domestic enough to imbue his mind with thoughts of her being around more permanently. Maybe a few more visits. Perhaps a spare key and a drawer or two for her things. 

Asia returned to Kelvin's lips eagerly to sigh and keen for more against him until time slipped into an abstract concept for two minutes that felt like twenty. Rapid beeping from his microwave timer shocked them into pulling away, eliciting silly smiles and embarrassed chuckles. 

Kelvin left Asia with one more peck before taking quick steps toward the stove to lower the blue flame. Asia watched his back tense and ripple beneath a crisp white T-shirt while he transferred a piping hot steak to a cutting board to rest. 

"Babe, come over here and taste test for me?" 

The word had already tumbled from his private thoughts into the open air too quickly for Kelvin to take back. He clamped his eyes shut to briefly pray God spared him from explaining his slip to the woman he wasn't supposed to fall for. 

Asia calmly closed the distance between them, an easygoing smile showing no indication that she'd heard Kelvin's blunder. He let the moment pass without drawing attention to himself to carefully feed his dinner guest a juicy piece of medium-cooked steak. 

He held a hand under Asia's chin to catch any spillage, and his eyes sparkled with intrigue as she took a small chunk into her mouth to judge his skills. 

She dramatically hummed in approval and nodded. "Mmm. Okay, you were right," Asia complimented after slow chews to savor the taste. "That is the best steak I've ever had. I underestimated you. Forgive me." 

"I'll forgive you after you rate the potatoes. Lowkey, I put my foot in those. Ankle deep."

"Gross, Kel."

Asia's rating for the potatoes? 10/10. For the chef? There wasn't a scale to convey how far he'd shot off the charts. 

Easy conversation, full of budding inside jokes and the right amount of flirting, kept their time together lively. Quiet intimacy worked well for them. When chatter dwindled and cleaning took center stage, they fell into a wordless routine of washing and drying dishes side by side until the job was done and tired legs intertwined to rest from a long week. 

Shadows dancing across Kelvin's face as he focused on some documentary he'd begged Asia to watch stole all her attention each time she looked at the other end of the couch. She tried to subdue Sabrina's voice in the back of her mind, trying to convince her to break the seal on all the knowledge she'd crammed in one night. Rushing into a skill she hadn't quite mastered sounded like a great idea when she had a front-row seat to his goosebump-inducing self-pleasure session. Seeing him innocently learn about the feeding patterns of nocturnal jungle ecosystems and considering a plan to renege on their decision to exist in non-sexual harmony felt wrong. 

 "But he started it." Asia thought to herself. The fondling. The kissing. The innuendos during dinner. The voice note is an invitation. He wasn't looking for sex, but he wouldn't mind it…right?

She had to make her move while she still felt confident. Otherwise, she'd allow Samira Wiley's voice to lull her to an embarrassingly deep sleep. 

"Hey," she whispered to get Kelvin's attention. He didn't budge, finding too much interest in the luminescent carnivorous plant luring insects into its trap. Asia called to him again using a different method. "The potatoes weren't that good. I lied." 

Kelvin scoffed. "Yeah, right. You cleaned your plate. Twice." 

"My mama taught me manners, babe." She sassed, accentuating the pet name on purpose. 

Kelvin kept calm with his signature charming smile while his pulse spiked internally. So she did hear me. He wasn't sure how to respond. Stopping to have a pow-wow about what exactly they were doing now that the rules of engagement felt wildly different would needlessly slow a good thing to a screeching halt. 

So, he swallowed every question to redirect his nervous energy into gently tugging Asia's ankle to bring her a centimeter closer. "You should come down here with me." 

Jackpot. 

Asia didn't expect her plan to unfold so quickly. Swapping sides to lie face to face opened the door to more touching, kissing, shared breaths, and head highs under the twinkle of skyscraper lights. 

Tensions rising brought flashes of Sabrina and her boot camp back for Asia with renewed ferocity. Now or never. Grab that dick by the horns or something along those lines. 

"Can…can we try something tonight?" 

Kelvin tightened his grip on her ass cheek and pulled away from her neck. "Try what?"

"I wanted to try, um, you know…fellating…you?" Asia mentally scolded herself for sounding timid as Kelvin snickered against her collarbone. 

"Fellating? What is this, sex ed?" He chuckled, earning an agitated smack from Asia to the back of his head. He nuzzled closer to kiss a spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Seriously, you don't have to do that. I'm okay with what we're doing. No pressure." 

He was right. No pressure. She knew that already. But pressure wasn't guiding her off the couch and onto her knees between his thighs. That was curiosity. And the pressure wasn't what drove Kelvin crazy as she helped him out of his sweats and briefs to carelessly toss them to the side. That? That was untamed desire flooding every bone in his body. Pressure had no dominion in his living room. Only the spirit of exploration and freedom. 

And nervousness. Definitely nervousness. 

Give him eye contact. Cover your teeth. Use your tongue. Relax your jaw. Suck, don't just glide. All of the sage advice from the previous night blurred into one incomprehensible ball of incessant chatter across the grooves of Asia's brain. 

She chose to kiss her way into confidence, dropping slow pecks across Kelvin's thighs like he'd done to her in their last session. Delicate touches and soft lips made his muscles tense while he watched her watch him.                                                                                  

He draped one arm across the back of his couch and rested a hand on her cheeks to run his thumb along the spot. "That's perfect. Go as slow as you want. Stop when you want. It's your choice." 

Reassurance and an encouraging smile convinced Asia to test her high school-level knowledge of anatomy. No amount of videos linked in her Girl's Talk Reddit thread or hands-on, dildo-led speed runs with Sabrina could prepare her for an up close and personal view. At least they both seemed happy to see her. 

His dick stood at half-mast, waiting for Asia to make a move. More kisses took her from muscular inner thighs up the length of his shaft and to a tip already glistening as if to welcome her into an event where the host was awaiting her arrival. A spark of wonder made her swipe her tongue over the spot to taste, but the quiet curse from Kelvin kept her there for more.

Spit on it. Sabrina's voice reminded Asia as she debated what to do next. Not a gross factory worker chewing tobacco spit. Slow. Make him watch. Asia used the saliva coating her mouth in a Pavlovian response to connect with Kelvin once she pulled away to get a better look at her subject. 

A slightly above-average size. It wasn't close to her practice dummy, but 11 inches was ridiculous, even by Sabrina's standards. Well-groomed. Prettier than any she'd ever seen on the other side of a screen. Heavy in her hands, but not enough to make her think twice about eventually working it down her throat. A work of art waiting for her oral appraisal. 

Kelvin's head lulled back against the wall as his jaw dropped to make space for a shuttering breath. "Fuck, that's sexy." He used all the strength in his neck to look back down at Asia. "Where'd that come from?" 

"I wanted to surprise you," she answered, round-doe eyes peering back at him. "So, I took a little lesson." She leaned forward to wrap her lips around his tip and suckle for a few seconds to see if Sabrina was right about the expected reaction. Kelvin's hand sliding from her jaw to her chin to hold her steady was all the confirmation she needed. 

At some point, Kelvin would come off Cloud 9 to inquire about Asia's mystery teacher. Not out of jealousy or to accuse, but to find out who should receive the flowers and card he'd already mentally purchased for their service. 

He'd be lying if he said Asia had reached pro status. Every tentative lick and split second of disjointed rhythm reminded him that she was a novice in the game. It didn't stop him from singing her praises while she worked double-time to get the hang of things. 

She listened to instructions and turned them into action, taking every "Just like that" and "Slow up" in stride as she learned the ropes. Asia allowed Kelvin to guide her head up and down until she no longer needed his help to maintain a toe-curling one-woman show. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat to provide positive reinforcement. "There you go. Wow, you look so pretty right now."

Asia felt like she had the entire world in her hands. What power. She could command his every movement with her mouth and illicit unfathomable sounds with a flick of her tongue. Older women made the act sound so degrading as if engaging with a man in this way made her more property than a fully realized woman. And maybe the men they dealt with hadn't been partners willing to treat them like equals. But Kelvin showered her with so much affection and care that it made her want to go the extra mile. 

The twisting motion of her palms against slick skin made Kelvin curse to the ceiling, undoubtedly disturbing the unfortunate soul above him. The sight of him beginning to unravel sparked an idea. "Is this what you like?" 

He blinked his eyes back into focus and nodded. "Hell yeah. You think you can try both?" 

She'd give it a valiant attempt. 

For a moment, Asia mulled over how to maintain harmony between parallel work streams. She observed her hands for the right moment to bring her mouth into action as if waiting for her cue to jump into the center of double dutch ropes. 

Up and down. Twist. Suck. Go now! Shit. Kelvin observed while the wheels turned in her head, trying to split his attention between how cute she looked with her brow furrowed in thought and how that tell-tale pit in his stomach was starting to tense his abdomen. 

Her leap of faith caught him by surprise, dragging out a long, throaty moan as she quickly settled into what looked like an effortless working relationship between body parts. 

Arousal awakened goosebumps across his skin. His nipples ached for touch, and he satisfied them by slipping a hand under his shirt. His brain began to cloud, robbing him of words he knew he should've offered as encouragement. His head felt like a boulder on his neck as he rested against the back of his couch. 

Bursts of light played behind his eyes as the inevitable greeted him with open arms. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, desperate to get Asia's attention. He couldn't surprise her with the release approaching hard and fast. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum. I don't wanna –" 

Asia didn't need the explanation. Thankfully, Sabrina had already prepared her for the endless possibilities once an eruption seemed imminent. She slowly removed her mouth and added a second hand to twist in the opposite direction. The grand finale. The moment they'd both been waiting for. 

Kelvin thrust into her palms to coax out warm spurts of semen over Asia's fingers and down her knuckles. She caught herself moaning with him, unable to contain the sound as she watched the reward of her work slide between each digit until her lover was spent and heaving for more oxygen to soothe his burning lungs.  

"Stop, stop." His pleading reminded Asia that she was still pumping, still milking him for all he had left. Her inner voice told her to prolong the moment and see how far she could push him until he was a babbling mess that only she could control. Kelvin saw the monster in her grin and rushed to kiss her, hoping she'd consider a different option. 

Their tongues and lips returned to each other in a panting, sloppy kiss while Kelvin used the distraction to push Asia's hands away before she started something they both knew she wasn't ready to finish. He had plenty of towels and wasn't opposed to breaking a rule or two. 

Sticky fingers growing increasingly uncomfortable made Asia pull away. "This is starting to feel weird in my hands," she laughed. 

"Oh shit, my bad." Kelvin forced himself to forgo one more kiss as he rested his forehead against hers. "Washcloths are in the bathroom closet. Bring one for me?" 

"Of course." 

Asia sported a goofy, proud smile while staring into his bathroom mirror, warming a bathing towel to take back to Kelvin. She wondered if texting Sabrina immediately would be in poor taste. Should she drop an emoji in the broader group chat full of their line sisters and go ghost waiting for them to decipher her cryptic message? Or would it make more sense to try and gather as many of the images flashing through her mind as possible, like reels passing through a view master, and store them for her alone time? 

She pushed all the options elsewhere in favor of returning to Kelvin with a wet rag to gingerly clean all traces of their unplanned romp from his still blazing-hot skin. 

He watched her with infatuation, coloring his gaze and a grin on his lips. His girl. At least for the few hours they got to spend willinging sharing their bodies with one another each weekend. He could pretend they were two people dating in pursuit of the elusive love he'd seen up close once before but couldn't hold on to. She'd be so beautiful sitting across from him on a night out, her fingers interlaced with his while they traded sweet everything over candlelight. He'd learn her favorite colors and her deepest fears. She'd listen to him go on and on about nature docs and make him go to bed when the wee hours of the morning crept up on him and his latest project. 

Asia's gaze flashed up to catch him transfixed in a daydream she needed to know about. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Wanting to tell her the truth and wanting to maintain their mutually beneficial relationship pulled him in opposite directions. He took a deep breath to roll the dice, hoping that once he uncorked the words, they wouldn't create a stain big and messy enough to make what they'd created unsalvagable. 

"If you're up for it," he started, cautiously choosing as he spoke. "I think we should try the real thing next time."

--------

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[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: New Money

The ghost zone doesn't have a formal form of currency. Depending on which part of the zone one is in, a trade could be made, or a Deal can be struck, but coins can rarely, if ever, be exchanged.

Every subculture that forms in the zone can eventually develop its own currency, but it will only have value within its territory. An example would be the credit crystals that the Far Frozen have developed, with a corresponding amount of funds floating inside their iced rocks. Still, if a Yeti were to travel even a foot outside their snowy mountains, the stones would become an interesting clothing choice and nothing else.

Ghosts value emotions more than any amount of gold or coin. Oftentimes, the most powerful of ecto beings would battle it out if a child's favorite teddy bear somehow found its way into the zone, though the thin cracks between worlds or an entire army of ghost mercenaries could be bought with a single pair of favorited socks.

It may not seem as much to the living, but to ghosts who could see the attachment embedded into the item, it meant everything. Some emotions could even be eaten off of the items if they were fresh enough, and while it did give a power boost, most of the time, the emotions were positive.

If a negative emotion was eaten, Ghosts could quickly become addicted to it, and when cut off from the negative emotion, they could soon fall apart in seconds.

Spectra was a famous example used in the zone as a precautionary tale for all new ghosts. Her beauty and power were only a facade to her desperation for angst emotions, and she flouted about the Zone, always on the hunt for her next fix.

It was pretty sad to see.

A few ghosts did their best to limit additions, such as Walker, who established himself a section of the zone using his great sense of justice that he had died with. He found human contraband that came into the zone unnaturally, sealing them away in his haunt.

These items usually had lickings of anxiety, desperation, or even fear attached to them and could quickly turn any ghost into a violent sort.

Walker's mission since his creation was to limit this exposal. He even arrested various ghosts that went to the human world through unnatural means, a majority coming back contaminated with human emotions and becoming a danger to fellow ghosts.

Most of these ghosts had items on them that were deemed worthless once all emotion was sucked out. Walker usually had his men take them to the Dump.

The Dump in the Ghost Zone was an extensive collection of worthless items gathered at the far right. It was known as a neutral section of the Zone, as every civilization and haunt often traveled there to eliminate clutter. Everything unwanted usually finds its way to the Dump.

Danny, after having a trial with Walker and coming to the understanding that he was not, in fact, attempting to make his fellow Ghosts addicted to anger- cause apparently a majority of Walker's prisoners were in there because of their exposal to Danny!- he was directed to the Dump to rid of his worthless ripped bag.

Danny had flown there expecting mountains and mountains of garbage. What he found instead were islands made entirely of gold. He flouted over the piles and piles of jewels, gold coins, random bills, and valuable items, gaping at the long collection that went further than his eye could see.

"What is all of this?" He gasps just as Box Ghost floats by carrying a jewelry box. He flips it open and shakes out a necklace with a diamond as large as Danny's palm onto the pile of jewelry. He gives Danny a friendly wave when they make eye contact.

He proudly flouts over to Danny, taking the neutral status of the Dump to heart. No fighting was allowed in this territory, much like Truce Day; all ghosts abided by this rule.

"The Box Ghost was lucky to be near a natural portal leading to the Human world's sea. This small rectangular object was once beloved by a grandmother, and now it is all mine!" He cheers, holding the jewelry box, practically half rotted and dripping wet over his head. A faint, gentle green glow surrounded it.

Danny blinks, pointing down at the necklace. "What about that? Aren't you going to keep it?"

"The Box Ghost has no need for useless stones!" The floating man even sticks his tongue to the necklace that could pay for Danny's college education (If it were real).

Only half joking, Danny asks, "Can I have it then?"

Box Ghost blinks, then gestures to the mountains and mountains of wealth. "If the Ghost Child wishes for a garage, he can take whatever he likes. No one will mind. Though, why would you waste time on soulless items? Box Ghost can not be sure!"

Box Ghost flies away laughing as if Danny was the one to mock for wanting a diamond necklace. He watches the ghost go before turning back to the mountains and mountains of shimmering gold.

Deciding to fly through the Dump to see what else he can find, Danny begins exploring- but not before taking the necklace- and later comes upon an island dedicated to various human clothing that looked like it came from hundreds of eras. He finds himself dressing up like a Lord of Old for fun when he happens upon leather bags.

Seeing as no one was there to stop him, Danny filled up each bag with chains and jewels, flying home in his new get up. He figured he could use some of the funds even if the gold was fake.

_____________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen is new money. His wealth came from only three generations ago, and while that is rather impressive, it held no candle to families like the Waynes.

The Waynes were old money, and their galas showed it. Every time old Brucie called him to celebrate, Oliver went along only to keep his company board happy.

They couldn't afford to offend one of their most prominent investors even if there were no thoughts behind Bruce Wayne's eyes. Oliver would have enjoyed himself more at these parties- if there was one thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do: throw a fantastic party- but sadly, he had to deal with the other old-money people who attended Bruce's parties.

The passive aggression reminders that he would never been on their level, the choking humiliation, the constant looking down on him. Well, it got exhausting. Especially since Oliver spent so much of his free time fighting for justice and trying to make the world a better place. These people talked and acted like they were above it all.

Like nothing could touch them, even when a majority of them were the cause for so much darkness, Oliver faced as Green Arrow.

He needed a stronger drink.

"Rather self-important for new money, isn't he?" A woman whispers loudly, mocking in every inch of her tone. Oliver's eyebrow twitches as he drowns his glass. He turns towards the voice, somewhat ready to cause a scene so he can go home, but it is a surprise to find that the gossiping woman isn't facing him

Rather, they are turned towards a young man, likely late teens, who is currently piling his plate high with sweets. The boy glances in the woman's direction before snorting unattractively and adding more to his plate.

Oliver is mildly impressed that he could make the woman flush with rage without saying anything. He had never seen the kid before, but he almost looked like a new Wayne with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He finds his feet walking towards the teenager before he can think about it. Something interesting may be at this gala after all.

"Hey, you seemed to really like fudge. Have you tried the raspberry ones? It's the best." He starts gesturing to a familiar chef's name in front of a chocolate tray. He had a sample of their work only a week ago when Batman brought some to the Watch Tower.

It was absolutely heaven.

The teen considered the pink color fudge before he took three cudes. With his bare hands. Well. New money, indeed.

"Thanks!" The boy chirps after stuffing one in his mouth and savoring the flavor.

"You're welcome. My son, Roy, really likes it too." He smiles as the boy glances towards where his adoptive son is currently chatting with Jason Todd. Those two find themselves attached to the hip whenever there is a gala. Maybe Roy will bring him home for the holidays soon. "I'm Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries."

"Danny Fenton," The boy responds slightly hesitantly. "Do all rich people do that? Add what makes them rich to their inductions?"

Oliver snorts, "Only the real tacky ones."

"Okay, Mr. Owner of Queen Industries."

Oh Oliver like this kid. He grins, ignoring the jab. "And what about you? What made you rich enough to be here to tonight."

The kid's eyes gain a certain glint of humor as he shrugs. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

Oliver moves to ask what he means, but Brucie shows up then, and he can't find a way out of the conversation. He's buttering up to the big idiot, knowing he lost sight of the strange boy.

Afterward, Oliver looks into Danny Fenton, only to find that the boy somehow appears out of nowhere with billions of dollars but no known source of where he got them. It also seems Batman was already on the case, assuming the boy was counterfeiting somehow, but Oliver didn't get that sense from the kid.

Something wasn't adding up about the boy, but he didn't think it was illegal. He just had to convince the big bad bat of that. If only it could be as easy as convincing Bruce Wayne to spend millions of dollars.

[22ayla21]

Intimate

What are they like in bed

Author: Maybe obscenity, I'm not writing for the first time, but I clearly have little experience, so I apologize in advance 😅

• Despite his formidable appearance and strength, he knows how to control himself. He is not one of those who act thoughtlessly - he studies her reactions, remembers what makes her freeze and what - relax. But if he is provoked, patience can quickly run out and then he becomes much more assertive, leaving her no opportunity to dictate the pace.

• His hands, accustomed to weapons, can be surprisingly careful. He does not allow himself to be abrupt, unless she herself wants it. But if the day turned out to be difficult, he can be more demanding, not giving her a break until he is sure that she completely belongs to him at this moment.

• He doesn't say too much, but his glances, quiet exhalations, restrained breathing say more than any words. However, in particularly sensual moments his voice becomes low, hoarse, almost velvety. And if he says something, it will be something short, but incredibly chilling to the point of goosebumps.

• Quick sex is not his thing. If he surrenders to sensations, then completely. There is nothing more important at this moment. Sometimes he demands the same from her - that she be here, only with him, only for him.

• Even after everything, he stays close. He does not leave, does not turn away, does not leave her alone. He will cover her, press her closer, run his hand through her hair. This is not just a habit - it is an instinct. Even in such moments, he continues to protect her, even if there is no danger.

• As a scientist, he is used to analyzing everything, and this also applies to his beloved. He studies her reactions, remembers every little thing that makes her sigh or tense up, and uses it in the future. On the surface, he may seem reserved and unperturbed, but once they are alone, this restraint disappears. An amazing combination of unhurried confidence and deeply hidden fire awakens in him.

• Calm, deep, with light mocking notes, he can bring to trembling with just a couple of phrases. Sometimes he says something barely audible, almost in a whisper, to make her listen more attentively.

• Anaxa is not one of those who will simply follow the standard script. He loves to tease, provoke, test her patience, just to see how she will react. In moments of intimacy, this turns into a game of control and testing boundaries.

• He does not tolerate chaos, preferring that everything go as he has planned. In bed, too, he takes the lead, dictating the rhythm and the atmosphere, making her feel that he is in complete control of the process.

• Like a true scientist, he enjoys studying, reactions, nuances. Sometimes he deliberately slows down the pace, just to observe her emotions and test how far he can go before she loses patience.

• In everyday life, he may seem cold and reasonable, but when alone with her, he combines gentleness and control in such a way that it is difficult for her to predict what will happen next. Sometimes he will be affectionate and caring, and sometimes - almost mercilessly teasing, testing the limits of her patience.

• Although he will not say it out loud, he gets special pleasure if after a night with him she falls asleep with a slight smile on her face, completely exhausted. And at such moments, looking at her, he allows himself a rare warm smile, knowing that it is his merit.

• Phainon always pays attention to the emotions of his beloved. If she is tired, he will be gentle, slow, allowing her to completely relax. If he feels that she wants something bolder, he only smiles slightly and plays along. In moments of strong desire, he can unexpectedly show imperiousness, but always remains attentive to her reaction.

• For him, physical contact is not just desire, but a way to express love. He often touches her even outside the bedroom: lightly runs his fingers along her wrist, hugs her waist, straightens her hair. In more intimate moments, this is expressed even more strongly. He slowly studies her body, allowing her to get used to his touch, and always leaves kisses where her skin is especially sensitive.

• Phainon is in no hurry, but if he feels that she completely trusts him, he can take control into his own hands. At such moments, his voice becomes hoarse, and his movements become more confident. He is not prone to abrupt gestures, but his confidence makes everything that happens especially sensual.

• For him, her satisfaction is more important than his own. He watches her reactions, notices the smallest details. He likes to see how she reacts to his touch, and he will not stop until he achieves the desired result.

• After all this, he does not just turn away or fall asleep. He always stays close, covers her, presses her to himself, runs his fingers over her skin, memorizing every curve. Sometimes he whispers something in the Amphoraean language - perhaps words of affection or promises that he himself does not realize.

[emeraldserenade]

Rebuilding ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Sam get's a package that leads both him and Joaquín to a building with a lot of history.

tw: fem!reader, stark!reader, cabnw spoilers, limited use of y/n, cursing, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

➽──────────────❥

Sam was rebuilding the Avengers, the news spread quickly. It somehow made it to you last, you weren't even mad. You were happy that they were being rebuilt, you had to make a decision about what to do with the compound anyway.

Sam was at home, Joaquín staying with him for a bit after getting out of the hospital, when his doorbell rang.

"Sam Wilson?" The man in a suit asked Sam at the door, he was holding a beautifully wrapped package.

"That's me," Sam affirmed. Joaquín was behind him, curious about what was happening.

"This is a gift from y/n Stark," the man handed Sam the package before turning around and leaving.

"What is it?" Joaquín asked and Sam gave him a look.

"I don't know yet, man," Sam replied, heading to his table to open it. Sam opened it inside was two key rings, covered in keys and two keycards. In a smaller box, one just as prettily wrapped as the larger one, sat a Stark Industry audio recorder.

"Hey, Sam. I haven't seen you since my dad's funeral, I'm glad to hear that you've gotten your bearings on being Captain America. Steve would be proud of you. Anyway, I heard that you're rebuilding the Avengers and thought the first two members of the new Avengers should have the first set of keys to the compound. When you have time, come up to the compound. I think you'll like what I've done, and Joaquín Torres, I hope you didn't get too messed up at Celestial Island," your message ended and Sam smiled at your words.

"You feeling up for a roadtrip?" Sam looked over at Joaquín, handing the aforementioned man the extra set of keys and the keycard with his name on it.

"Let's go," Joaquín walked away to grab his things, Sam doing the same.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were driving up in one of your dad's old Audis, Sam and Joaquín had shown up only a few moments ago. Still getting their things out of the car.

"Sam Wilson and Joaquín Torres," your voice floated through the air, causing them both to look over at you. "It's nice to formally meet you, Joaquín," you smiled at them as you shook their hands. "Come inside," you locked your car before heading inside.

Sam and Joaquín walked behind you, both shocked when the door swung open for you.

"Why is there keys if the door just opens?" Sam asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

"Because the door won't just open for anyone that isn't wearing EDITH glasses," you spun on your heel to face the two, the EDITH glasses perched on your head now. "As I said in the recording, I think you'll like the renovations I've made," you explained, turning back around and walking again. "You two can look around, I have a meeting I have to call into. If either of you need me, I'll be in one of the old meeting rooms," you told them. Leaving them both to have wander around.

"Do you know if she's single?" Joaquín tried to seem casual but the laugh that erupted from Sam told Joaquín that he didn't sound as causal as he wanted.

"I don't know, I haven't had contact with her up until the package showed up at my door," Sam told Joaquín. "You could ask her, she won't be offended," Sam told Joaquín, knowing even if you weren't, you'd be flattered.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Hey boys," you made them both jump as they were in the newly renovated gym. "Liking the new gym?" You pushed the tinted glasses to perch on your head.

"It's all glass, it makes for good lighting," Sam shrugged and you raised your eyebrow.

"EDITH, enter flight mode," you called out.

"Yes, Miss," EDITH affirmed and you pointed to the roof. The two boys looked up and gasped as the roof started to open.

"You think this would be a normal glass gym? I may not be Tony Stark but I do have all his old designs and the smarts to go with it," you told him, laughing as Joaquín looked back at you with pure amusement. "The walls slide open in specific spots too, it's so the outside property can be used too," you gave them both a smile.

"How long do you want us to stay?" Sam questioned and you scrunched your eyebrows at him.

"How long do you want to stay?" You questioned.

"I," Sam cut himself off and you just spun to walk away.

"You two can stay as long or as little as you'd like," you told them both. You were turning out of the room when Joaquín ended up next to you.

"I asked Sam but he told me to just ask, so," Joaquín cut himself off when you stopped walking to give him your full attention. "Are you single?"

"I am," you affirmed, a raised eyebrow and amused smirk on your face.

"Would you like to go out with me?"

"I would love to, but first, you need to heal a bit more," you gave him a smile, knowing that he's supposed to take frequent breaks.

"Sounds like a plan," his smile lit up his face and your heart fluttered.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Angel, EDITH told me you were still in here," Joaquín walked into the workshop, you were tinkering with something for Sam.

"Hey, baby," you looked up at him with a smile, you two had been dating since your first date and now it's been months.

"Have you checked the time?"

"Uh, no?" You looked over at the clock and gasped. "Fuck," you sighed, rubbing your forehead. "I'm sorry, love. I lost track of time," you placed the things in your hands down.

"It's fine, I was warned about the Stark habit of getting too into building," Joaquín walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Sam has the popcorn popping and the movie is already up and ready to play in the movie room," Joaquín moved to stand next to you, one of his arms still securely around your waist. He guided you out of the shop with the arm around you.

"Has Sam gotten calls back about who he wants to be on the team?" You questioned, knowing that Sam had been trying to get some calls back.

"Not yet," Joaquín told you and you nodded.

"He managed to get you out," Pepper's voice made you slightly jump as you two entered the movie room. Sam laughed at your scared face and the way you moved closer to Joaquín.

"Pepper? What are you doing here?"

"I got a call from Happy, he said you haven't been in the office for months now. I came to see why but I understand it now," Pepper looked between you and Joaquín with a smile. "Your dad did the same thing, just don't try and make Joaquín CEO like he tried to make me," Pepper smiled and you gave her a slightly guilty one. "I've got to go, but at least make a point to show at the office once a month," Pepper pointed at you and you nodded at her. She left the room, and presumably the building.

"I'll forget and she'll be back before she just resigns to just coming to get me once a month to go to the office," you stated like fact before you and Joaquín went to sit down, Sam following suit.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[cloudsmateria]

cloud strife x reader - are you ready to cry? cause i’m no good

this fic is impaired by les by childish gambino bc our little cloud is emotionally unavailable but he becomes infatuated with a girl he met at the club, both horribly drunk, leading him to catch some feeling and make some decisions he maybe probably shouldn’t have. they sneak around with each other until he has to cut this off. part 2 will probably come, we’ll see how i feel. this is my not proofread first draft, and is mostly an attempt for me to get better at smut since i don’t do it often. also my new fav song i’ve been previously gate keeping is here <3

tw: alcohol, drunk sex, a lot of sex

word count: 7.5k, most of it smut

wall street was party central beneath the plate, it was aerith who took him here promising a drink at the bar before he’d go back to sector 6, but one drink turned to two, turned to three, turned to 4 and the next thing he knew he was in a club on the dance floor with aerith, sending tifa a message telling her where he was.

it didn’t take long for you to catch his eye, you were already looking up at him, smiling and drawing him in. his head was swirling with everything revolving around you, but with a nudge from aerith it didn’t take much for him to approach you, not a thought behind those eyes to make him think twice.

“can i get you a drink?” he shouted over the music, your friends laughing and going off to the floor to let you have your moment.

“one more and i’m gonna pass out.” you giggled wrapping your arms around his neck to dance with him. “you’re not too far from your limit too.” he laughed, his hands naturally resting on your waist.

“how could you tell?”

”it took a good 5 minutes for you to notice me, you were in your own little world.”

”so you’ve been watching me since i came in, huh?”

”with that sword on your back? yes.”

”that the only reason?” he said smugly, leaning in to tease you. you smiled, going for a kiss, he pulled you forward without thinking. the warmth and softness of your lips engulfed his mind, you drawing away. he looked slightly shocked when his eyes met yours again, in a trance of your entirety. your giggle echoed throughout him. “what?”

“i don’t know, just you. i like you.” a sheepish laugh escaped his lips, looking down. he looked back to check if aerith was watching him, she luckily missed the entire exchange. tifa had come by and they had hit it off straight away, the two of them laughing at the bar. but he wasn’t too keen on them seeing him for the mockery that would come for the rest of his life.

“let’s get out of here, i wanna hear your voice better, see you in the light.” you said, like you were reading his mind, you pulled him gingerly toward the exit, his hand tightened around yours as you pulled him forward, spinning you around to wrap his arms around your waist when you got outside, kissing you like it was the first time against the wall, mindlessly. his hands feeling the skin of your waist in your silly crop top, he was too drunk to read what it said, it was something stupid undoubtedly.

he didn’t care, his lips wondered to your cheek kissing you all over, leading down the the back of your ears and kissing you down your neck, all he wanted was to taste you to feel the way your body shivered when his lips made contact.

“ah-“ your voice shivered. “i don’t know your name.” you whimpered, making his heart throb at your shaky voice, clear in the empty cold air.

“cloud.” he said, slowly pulling back, his breath gone at the look of your face. “you?” oh my god his voice was so hot. you tell him and he repeats it softly. you could’ve whimpered again right there, you could feel pink blushing your cheeks in the cold, something you hadn’t felt in ages and you didn’t want this to be just lust. you didn’t want to waste this moment.

his stomach twisted at your slight change in demeanour, slightly shy. to be honest he really wanted to kiss you more than anything, but decided to lay off for a second. how drunk you both were was also a concern that crossed his mind for a split second, he’d like to think he’d fight fine drunk. whatever, he’s a soldier.

”come on.” he held your hand, starting to walk down the street.

“you familiar with the area?” you asked.

“i have no idea where i’m going.” he said blankly, making you giggle.

”you must be far gone.”

”no, i just want to spend some more time with you.” you felt your heart pulse, skipping ahead a step to look at him.

“well, you’re in luck. i happen to know all the good spots, soldier.”

”lead the way, m’lady.”

you were already in the heart of wall market, the streets were bustling at this time of the night, the alleyways were filled with dodgy groups but you had your pretty little guard dog with you. his face was so pretty lit by the amalgamation of lights you walked through, red, purple, blue, he was beautiful, and a gentleman. 10 minutes into your walk your feet started to hurt so he ended up picking you up, a few giggly, teasing pecks being slung around until you were at the door of your small apartment, the elevated entrance looking over the street of wall market.

he hugged you from behind while you unlocked your door, picking you up on your way in to kiss you, pinning you against your entrance wall while kicking the door shut, pulling off your heels and pulling his sword off with his free hand to place against your door. your arms wrapped around his neck, focused on how soft his lips were. the alcohol had worn of slightly, you were both undoubtedly drunk which made everything about this feel that much more amazing.

“i’ve been waiting for this.” he whispered in your ear, nibbling your lobe while his hands got more adventurous, sliding up your dress to holding you by your ass. your breath caught in your throat, unable to resist the mako-infused trance his eyes cast over you, he carried you to your bed, laying you down gently. the room spun slightly, but it was a pleasant feeling, a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. his hand traced the curve of your waist, his eyes never leaving yours, breath shivering at the touch of the softness of your skin.

all of it was so intimate, so real, the way you looked at him made his heart throb. your hand found his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours, and in that moment, he knew he would never get enough of you, not the morning after, not in 10 years when you had split ways, he’d never forget your loving touch, soft skin, saccharine laugh. his hands moved to the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly as his mouth was desperately pressed against your plump lips, revealing your stomach, your chest, your shoulders. the cool air hit your skin, but his touch was like fire engulfing you.

his eyes searched yours for any signs of hesitation, but all he found was desperation like his. he leaned in, kissing down your chest, making you gasp with every gentle press of his lips. your heart was racing so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, you felt so alive, so loved, so desired. his touch was tender, yet firm, leaving no doubt about how badly he needed you, you slipped your fingers under his vest, tugging it upward. he pulled off his top with one hand, you were shocked, staring at his chiselled chest blatantly. you should’ve expected this from his arms, but even then, none of that prepared you for this.

his body was a masterpiece, sculpted from clay like an idol. every muscle defined, the way his abs rippled with every movement was mesmerizing. his arms were strong, yet gentle as they held you down, his chest a book of scars. the light from the street lamps outside danced across his skin, casting shadows that played tricks with your eyes. you couldn’t help but run your fingers over them.

his breath hitched, and his eyes closed briefly as you touched his scars, trying to keep himself under control. his hands slid up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties, making you squirm. he pulled away from your chest, looking down at you with a smirk. “you enjoying yourself?”

you nodded, feeling a bit shy at his sudden question. “yes...” your voice was barely a whisper, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his hands continuing their exploration. he gently slid your panties to the side, his finger grazing your wetness. you gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slip his finger inside, making you arch off the bed, gasping loudly.

“oh, cloud!” you moaned out his name, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise. his eyes lit up with satisfaction, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin.

“that’s it, baby.” he said, his voice deep and rough, making you press your legs together. his finger moved in and out of you, setting a steady rhythm that had you clutching the bed sheets. he leaned down to kiss you again, his free hand playing with your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, making you whimper. his free arm leaning above your head to keep himself stable, his shadowed face watching your blissed expression. your hips rolled up with his fingers, desperately trying to get closer. he could feel your pussy twitch, the heat radiating from you and the warm smell of your perfume surrounding him, intoxicated by more than just the alcohol, it was your aura he was drinking in. he was throbbing so hard it hurt.

he buried himself into your neck in his breathlessness, panting right in your ear, your hand buried in his hair pulling him closer into you. he kissed your lobe softly, every touch left a mark on your soul, you could feel his intensity in every action, it all came out. he felt this was the only peace he had in his hectic life, you unwrapped him to his barest form.

his finger continued to work you, making you squirm under him. “what do you want?” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. “anything…. ah- you’re enough, anything, cloud...” you breathed out, your voice shaky, you were close.

his voice was a soft caress, the words coming out of his mouth were like a gentle storm, confusing yet comforting, the kind that left you breathless. “are you sure about this? about me?” he asked, his thumb circling your clit, driving you crazy. you nodded, unable to form more coherent words. his fingers moving faster, curling just right. your orgasm quickly building as your legs pressed tighter together, quivering. his thumb found your clit, circling it perfectly, you were at your limit.

“c-cloud!” you screamed, body convulsing as waves of your pleasure crashed over you. he was amazed. your sound was music in his ears, and his own arousal grew tenfold to the way your pussy pulsed around his fingers, everything you did was beautiful. his bulge was already uncomfortable, but now it was unbearable. he pulled his fingers out of you, making you twitch. you wrapped your arms around him as he kissed down your neck, teeth nipping at your skin.

he sat up to kick his jeans off, throwing them to the corner of your room. you could see his dick straining against his boxers, a wet spot at his tip from his leaking precum. you jaw dropped, his size was intimidating and yet unbelievably hot, you did not expect him to be packing this much. he palmed himself through his boxers, chuckling at your reaction. he pulls you on top of him, taking your hand and pressing it against his erection, skin hot to the touch.

“what?” he asks, a playful smirk playing on his lips, watching your reaction. you blush deeper, not breaking eye contact, your hand still wrapped around him.

“iis that even going to fit?”

“dunno. you having second thoughts?” he teases. you bite your lip, shaking your head. yes, you definitely were having second thoughts but that wasn’t going to stop you. you want him more than ever now. you lean down to kiss him again, feeling his cock pulse in your hand. his tongue slides into your mouth, dancing with yours, the taste of alcohol as you mix together. you can feel your heart racing in your chest.

he moves your hand away, sliding his boxers down, his cock springing free. he’s huge and dripping. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice soothing.

“mhm.” you nod, eagerly leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand.

"fuck." he whispers, the taste of saltiness coated your tongue as you wrapped your lips around it, making you want to taste more of him. you lick the length of him, watching his eyes roll back in his head, a low groan leaving his mouth. you swirl your tongue around the head, making him hiss before taking him into your mouth, feeling him fill your throat.

"shit!"

his hands went to your hair, gripping it tightly as you moved your mouth up and down his length, your tongue caressing every inch. he watched you with a mix of pleasure and disbelief, feeling his orgasm build rapidly. he could feel your throat contract around his tip, his balls tightening. but he didn’t want to come too soon. he gently pushes your head away, panting heavily.

“you’re too good at that, but it’s not what i had in mind.” he breathed. “i need to be inside you so badly right now.” his hand went to the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek. the affection in his voice made you squirm, he brought his head down for another kiss. his hands roamed up to your hips, kneading the fat in his hands. he flipped over hovering over you with your back against the sheets, his eyes were filled with lust and something else you couldn’t figure out, whatever it was, it was intense.

he gripped your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. his free hand slid down between your thighs, prying your legs wide open for him, fingers slowly dragging up your slit, getting drenched in your wetness. his eyes searched your own for any sign of hesitation.

“i don’t know how much control i have over myself.” he said lowly, he has pushed himself to his limit with you. you nodded quickly, already desperate for him and ready for anything he wanted to do to you.

“that’s okay, cloud.”

”are you sure?”

”ive never been so sure about someone in my life.” you said, looking up at him tenderly. his heart swelled in his chest, feeling heavier than before. no one had ever looked at him like that, spoken to him like that, your words raw and ripping deep into him. he knew he didn’t deserve this, but in this moment, he couldn’t help but revel in it. if he only had sober enough of a mind to turn away now and stop himself from hurting you.

“fuck… stop looking at me like that.” he murmured, heart hammering in his chest. the look in your eyes was like a warm embrace, he looked down, trying to avoid it, it was overwhelming him. your giggle only made his heart throb more, he couldn't help but smile.

his grip on your wrist tightened, pushing your hips down to align with him, his tip could feel the heat of your entrance. slowly, he dragged it up your folds, drenching it in your wetness and making your body shiver until it hooked against your entrance, making you arch your back. he groaned, the friction was driving him insane. you looked up into his eyes, trying to prepare yourself to accommodate him. he took a deep breath.

“are you okay with this?“ he asked one last time, his voice strained with the effort to not rushing into this no matter how badly he wanted it. this was your first time and you were nervous but sure. you nodded eagerly, cheeks flushing red. it was all he needed. he pushed into you, slowly sinking the tip into you, it was so tight.

”fuck….” he breathed out.

you closed your eyes, you could feel them rolling to the back of your head, a mixture of pleasure and pain. you bit your lip though a muffled moan still managed to slip out as you stretched around him. he paused for a moment giving you time to adjust around him. he pushed in deeper, groaning, the heat was overwhelming as he felt himself getting deeper until he bottomed out completely and you’re sure your neighbours heard the disgusting noises that spilled from your mouth.

“shit, you feel too good. “ he twitched inside you, he cursed himself for being so close already. you felt so full, the pain of trying to adjust to him was wearing off slowly and all that consumed you was pleasure. he watched your face, all your reactions, it made his heart ache. “see what you’ve done to me?”

“oh, cloud.” you whimpered, he loved it when you said his name like that. his face trailed down to your, neck the peaks between your breasts until his hands lost the grip of your wrists to cup your breast, the thumb grazing over the sensitive peak, rolling them between his fingers. the other squeezing your ass. his lips latched onto your nipple, sucking them into his mouth. his hips drew out completely, until it was just his tip left in you just to push back in inch by inch. it was driving you crazy, and yet it was keeping him from spilling into you too early.

“you don’t know how bad i needed you, so good.” he whispered. your hand tangled into his hair, the other digging into the flesh of his shoulder. he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, flicking it with his tongue. you could feel your core clench around him as he switched to the other, his hands supporting your weight. the way his mouth felt on your sensitive skin was heavenly. you clenched around him from the shockwave of pleasure, you felt him twitch. he groaned, the vibration of his voice making you shiver. “you drive me insane.” you were going to ask what you were in a minute, the way he made you feel on an emotional level just made everything that much more intense. “i want you all to myself.”

his sucks grew harder, more insistent, the sounds of your combined breathing filling the small apartment. your moans grew louder, mixing with the occasional whine as he stretched you open, his cock thick and demanding. he could feel your nails digging into his skin, urging him to go faster, deeper.

he pulled away as his control thinned, hand leaning against the headboard while his other gripped your hip tightly, the sound of his groans filling the room. his pace picked up as he got more urgent, hips snapping with a rhythm that made you wrap your legs around his waist. you threw your head back pleasure quickly building in your belly, your pulses starting to get more frantic, begging for more.

“ah! cloud! yes- oh!” his need was getting more urgent with each thrust, the way your body was moving against him was mesmerising, your breasts bouncing in the dim light, his eyes were stuck on you as he quickened, getting rougher, watching your chest rise and fall with each irregular breath and moan, your lust playing out just for him in fusion with your flushed face, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, it was just enough to make him come undone as he felt you pulse and clench around him frantically.

his thumb found your way to your clit, teasing it as he fucked you. that was it for you. your walls clamped down on him, shaking as your orgasm crashed through you. you bit your lip desperately to stop yourself from waking everyone in the building up, nails digging into his back as he kept up his pace, chasing his own climax. he could feel it building quickly, balls tightening as he dug himself deeper into you, body begging for release.

“fuck, where do you want it?” your mind was gone, drunk with pleasure and the thought of his cum in you was too much to resist, you wanted to be his, all of him inside you.

“inside me,” you moaned. his eyes darkened, heart jittering in his chest, pounding against his rib cage. the idea of marking you with his cum, was so fucking hot, it sent a shiver down his spine and his cock throb even more insistently, movements getting more urgent and deliberate.

“are you sure?” his jaw clenched as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

“yes cloud.” your voice with that pulse of your pussy around him sent him over the edge. he grabbed your hips, forcing himself as deep as possible, you felt it shoot inside you in waves as he groaned loudly, cock twitching with each spill.

“all of it, fucking take all of it.” he managed in ragged, raspy breaths as he buried himself deeper, you clenched and tightened around him instinctively, milking every drop, you were so sensitive you felt yourself get close again. everyone must have heard that. his body sloped over, wrapping around your waist tightly as he slowly pumped himself in you a few more times to fuck everything as deep as possible, all of his hot seed filling you completely, it couldn’t be possible to have that much cum. you moaned softly as you felt yourself get overcome with the sensation again, a second orgasm, becoming a twitching and shivering mess all over again.

he laughed quietly, his body still trembling with the aftershock of his release as he continued to pulse inside you. he leaned down to kiss you again, you could feel each other’s heart race as your bodies pressed against each other.

“you’re something else,” he murmured against your swollen lips, your legs were still trembling, and you were still deliciously full of his cum and hard dick. you realised how much you wanted this to be more than just a drunken hookup without any courage to say anything.

he took another moment to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours sweetly. “i want to go down on you until you pass out.” his soft voice did not match that nature of that sentence, you felt your cheek heating up at the words. “but i’ll let you get some rest, you need it.” his gentle kisses trailed down your neck, carefully flipping you over so he didn’t slip out of you, your bodies fit perfectly against each other as your head rested against his chest, his hands playing with your hair as you pulled the covers up.

his breath was warm and steady against your cheek, you felt so safe, he was so warm and big underneath you. your eyes grew heavier, the room still slightly spinning, in complete bliss. his other arm around you tightly, holding you closer, his heartbeat like a lullaby. and that’s when the gravity of what happened weighed on you, you didn’t want him to leave tomorrow, you really liked him, and he didn’t even know your last name.

you sat up, looking down at him, his eyes still closed and breathing steadily. “cloud?” you whispered, unsure if he was asleep. his eyes fluttered open, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “yeah?”

his hand squeezed your side, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through your body. “can i ask you something?” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“of course, what’s on your mind?” he sat up with you, his smile fading slightly as he sensed your shift in mood.

you took a moment to gather your thoughts, your heart in your throat. “what is this going to be between us? i mean i know it’s not a relationship, and i just need to know if this means anything to you or if it’s just a one-night thing?” you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

cloud’s hand stilled on your back, his smile fading into a contemplative line. “what do you want it to be?” he asked, his voice low and serious. you felt his eyes on you, waiting for your answer.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your words. “i just know that i really like you, i don’t want this to be the last time we see each other.”

cloud’s gaze was intense as he studied your face, his thumb gently stroking the curve of your waist. “i like you too,” he said finally, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through you. “i just don’t want to hurt you. I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

the confession hung in the air. you could see the fear in his eyes, had he been sober it would’ve been a definite no. yet, here you were, entangled in each other’s arms.

”can we see where this goes?”

he took a deep breath, gaze not leaving yours. he wanted you so badly, but a hint of his sober self was warning him, he ignored it. “yeah, let’s see where this goes.” his arms wrapped around you tighter, holding you closer as he kissed the top of your head. his dick was still semi-hard inside you as you drifted off.

…

you were woken up by the orange glow across your room from the windows. cloud’s arms were still around you, you looked up, his face peaceful with his messy hair splayed across your pillows, chest rising and falling. his morning wood was still inside you, it was already starting to stir, growing in length and thickness as he slowly woke up, your body was still sensitive and full from last night, you squirmed slightly.

his eyes slowly fluttered open, feeling your movement, his sleepy eyes met yours. he smirked, remembering what was happening

“good morning, to both of you.” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. his fingers circled your hip, his cock fully hard now, rolling it up into you.

“cloud!” he covered your mouth, not wanting to wake up your whole apartment block, his other hand sliding down to your clit, grazing it enough for you to gasp into his palm. your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he moved his cock inside you, shallowly thrusting in and out, feeling you clench around him.

“see, you don’t mind it, do you?” you felt his back muscles tighten under your hands, your face on his chest, flexing as he picked up his pace. he leaned in to kiss the top of your head, his hand moving to grip your thigh and keep your open for him.

his strokes grew deeper, his cock sliding in and out of you, lubricated by the mess of the night before. your breath hitched as you felt him hit that spot deep inside, making your toes curl. he was like a different person with you, easy going with no need to hide himself, confident. his movements got stronger and more demanding, so big he filled you up completely, stretching you out all over again.

his hips were slapping against yours, echoing throughout the room mixed with your muffled moans and his groans of pleasure. he hit that spot inside you repeatedly, making your mind go numb all over again, tensing around him, orgasm building up quickly. it didn’t take much for either of you to finish, both still sensitive from last night. his hips jittered, your pussy contracting around his cock as he pushed through your walls, pressing you down on him. it twitched inside you, sputtering hot cum inside of you again.

his breathing was ragged, flipping you over again so he was on top of you as he slowly pulled out despite the suction of your pussy, being left empty. some of it leaked out, but he fingered it back in, making you shiver and moan. he chuckled quietly, looking at the state of you.

“good morning to us.” you said as he lay his head on your chest, continuing to push in and out of you. he looked around your room, it was as big as his, though a lot more lived in and homely. books stacked up on the floor, notebooks and makeup from last night splayed out on your desk and a scythe in the corner of the room which caught his attention.

“i’m gonna go clean up.” you whispered, trying to slip out of bed, his arms tightened around you

“stay a bit longer.” he mumbled against your neck, it was clear he was about to sleep again. “it’s only 6.” the warmth of his breath tickling your neck.

“i would love to, cloud. but i do have work.”

his eyes searched yours, the conflict of his want versus your needs. "i'll make it quick." he whispered, kissing your forehead before rolling off you, his cock sliding out of you with a wet sound that made him groan. he stood up, grabbing your hand, pulling you off the bed. the warmth of his cum trailed down your thigh. "we can shower together."

you nodded, following him to the bathroom, the floor cold against your bare feet. the shower was already running, the sound of water hitting the tiles echoing through the room. cloud stepped in, holding his hand out for you, the water washing over him, his muscles rippling as he moved. you stepped in, the warmth wrapping around you, his arms enveloping you again.

his hands roamed your body, the water slipping over your curves, his eyes tracing your figure. “you’re so beautiful.” he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck. you leaned into his touch, his hands moving down to your ass, squeezing it gently, making you giggle.

cloud picked up a washcloth, soaping it up and moving it down your body, his eyes never leaving yours as he washed you off. the warmth of the water washed over you both, mixing with the steam that filled the small room, the scent of your combined arousal still lingering in the air. his soapy hand reached between your legs, washing off the mess of the night, his thumb grazing your clit, making you jump.

his eyes were on your face, watching every little reaction, the way your eyes would roll back at the slightest touch. “can’t get my hands off you.” he chuckled, kissing the side of your neck. his other hand cupped your face, tilting it up to look into your eyes. “you really do drive me crazy.”

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling his hardness press against your thigh. ”do you ever take a break?”

“this is your fault. you’re too tempting,” he said, his voice a low growl. he stepped closer, pressing you against the tiles as he dropped the washcloth. his hand went back to your neck, tilting it to the side, kissing the pulse point. “but i’ll behave for now.”

his hands were gentle but firm. you leaned into him, your breasts pushing against his chest. he took his sweet time, washing every inch of you, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he looked away. your heart fluttered at the tender way he touched you, while your hands ran over his arms, washing him off.

his cock was hard again, brushing against your stomach. it was clear he wasn’t done with you, but he didn’t push it, he knew you had to get ready. instead, he kissed your forehead and stepped back, letting you wash off the soap. you watched him under the water, the way his muscles flexed.

you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself, feeling the warmth of the air hit your wet skin. he followed you, his own towel around his waist. you get into a clean set of comfy clothes, you gave Cloud one of your large sweatpants you normally slept in. "you can keep it," you said with a smile, watching him put it on. "i have plenty."

“why? you do this often?” he asked.

“the opposite actually.” you said.

you both looked at the clock again, it was only 5 AM, and the sun hadn’t fully risen. “why don’t we just cuddle for a bit longer?” you suggested, pulling off your bed sheets and changing them, he helped you spread ita cross your matress, your voice filled with hope. Cloud’s eyes lit up, he didn’t hide his enthusiasm.

“i thought you had work,” he said, walking back towards the bed and pulling the covers aside for you to slip in next to him.

“well, i do… at 5pm.”

“what?”

“i work at a bar, it's a night shift today so i've got the whole day off."

"i wish i could stay here with you but i have to get back to sector 7 at 8. my friend owns a bar and she does need my help if i want to continue to have a place to stay."

"that's cool, are you a bartender?"

"mercenary. i thought i told you this last night?"

"oh." you remembered, though it was still surprising. "sorry, i think i was just more focused on some other things from last night."

he laughed quietly. "don't worry."

you lay there for a bit longer, basking in the warmth of cloud’s embrace, listening to the rain tap against the window. His arm was draped over your waist, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing the skin just above your panties.

“when will i see you again?” he asked absent mindedly.

you turned to look at him, his eyes still sleepy but filled with something that looked a lot like hope. “im free tonight after my shift, though it's about 1am.” you said with a playful smile. that was perfect, aerith and tifa would've been asleep by then, he could sneak out to see you.

“i’ll make it work,” he said, his voice filled with determination. you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through your chest, his willingness to make time for you was something you weren’t used to. “i want to see you again, badly.”

cloud’s hand stilled on your shirt, his eyes looking at yours with a mix of guilt and excitement. the guilt was something he wasn’t used to feeling. he was a mercenary, used to taking what he wanted and moving on, but with you it was different. the thought of not seeing you again was unbearable, and he felt guilty for feeling this way, knowing he might be leading you on, he couldn’t help himself. he warned you last night.

you nodded, trying to keep the hope off your face. “i’ll be waiting for you.” you leaned in and kissed him softly, feeling his cock twitch against your thigh, it was clear he wanted more but he knew he couldn’t push it. you both laid there, your bodies entwined, talking about everything and nothing until the sun had fully risen, and suddenly it was 7.30, and he had to leave.

his kiss was gentle as he pulled away from you. “i’ll see you tonight then,” he said, getting back into his soldier uniform. you gave him a peck on the cheek before he left your apartment, the cold air of the early morning a stark contrast to the warmth he left behind.

…

leave a comment if u want a part 2, i’m undecided <3