#like i knew from the beginning it was never gonna end happy

[rtrntosndr]

chris wasn’t a “relationship” guy. between his fear of commitment and his career, he hardly kept women close.

then he met you.

on a rare night he accepted an invitation to an LA party, accompanied by his brothers, he found himself in a sea of people. as the sounds of music and conversation buzzed around him, he let his gaze wander as he slowly sipped his soda from the cup in his hands. his eyes flitted around the room, eventually landing on the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

you stood across the room, dressed in a new outfit you bought for the evening. you were talking to some friends, laughing at something one of them said. chris felt his heart growing in his chest, and the butterflies beginning to swarm in his stomach.

“hey, do either of you know that girl?” chris asked his brothers, nodding towards you. nick and matt followed his direction, shaking their heads.

“no. but she’s cute. you should go talk to her.” nick suggested. chris just shook his head, too nervous to even think about talking to you.

later that night, chris found himself in the kitchen, getting a refill on his soda. he noticed you at the counter, the butterflies returning to his stomach. he watched as you turned around, leaning against the counter. you caught his gaze, giving him a small smile as he stepped closer to you.

“‘scuse me.” he said quietly, reaching behind you to grab one of the two-liters that lined the counter. he filled his cup, taking a sip before speaking to you. “hi. i’m chris.”

“y/n.” you said with a smile. “you look familiar. aren’t you one of those triplets?” you asked, and he nodded.

“yeah, the sturniolo triplets.” he laughed.

“sturniolo, yeah! i’ve seen clips of you guys online. you’re really funny.”

“thanks.” he said, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. the two of you ended up talking the whole rest of the night. eventually, his brothers found you, apologizing for interrupting but telling chris they were ready to go. you exchanged numbers before he left, him immediately texting you while he was on his way home.

after that night, you and chris talked everyday, almost all day. he was feeling himself really falling for you, which terrified him. but, shocking even himself, he finally asked you out.

you went out on a few dates before he officially (albeit awkwardly) asked you to be his girlfriend. you of course accepted without hesitation.

the first few months of your relationship went by, and chris knew it was gonna work with you when you were in good with his family. the night he officially introduced you to his brothers, nick and matt were instantly obsessed with you. your personalities meshed perfectly, and chris felt so lucky that the people he cared about the most were getting along so well.

one moment in particular when chris knew you were the one for him came about when he and his brothers all got sick at the same time. you took the time out of your own life and your own schedule to take care of them and help nurse them back to health. you were making sure they were taking their medicine, still eating, and staying hydrated. chris was the first one to get better, as his symptoms were pretty mild compared to his brothers. he was in his bedroom when he heard you coming back down from the kitchen.

"alright, nick and matt have been fed and are both napping now. i feel like i've been raising toddlers these past few days." you laughed as you flopped onto the bed with chris.

"thank you for being here, and helping take care of us." chris said to you as he pulled you into his chest.

"oh, you don't have to thank me." you said, running your fingers through his hair. "i'll always be happy to help."

chris held you close, eyes locked on yours. you noticed a brighter glint in them than usual as he leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"i love you." he said softly. you smiled at him, feeling your heart race.

"i love you." you repeated, kissing him again.

being with you made chris realize that he was never really scared of being in a relationship. he was scared of being with the wrong person. but you were right.

chris never questioned how you felt about him, nor how he felt about you. he never felt like he had to pretend to be someone he wasn't just to impress you. you made him feel more comfortable than anyone he ever knew. you were it for him, and he was grateful that you were the one he was getting to spend his life with.

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[ninisdollie]

brighter days - park sunghoon 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ . Demigods series

Synopsis: Park Sunghoon, the forbidden son of Zeus, is admired and respected by everyone at halfblood camp, but he prefers to keep to himself and avoid the crowds. With his reserved and somewhat grumpy attitude, his peace is constantly interrupted by your relentless energy, the daughter of Apollo. Outgoing, cheerful, and full of life, you never miss an opportunity to approach Sunghoon, who knows you have a crush on him. However, his temper and desire to maintain his distance lead him to reject you time and time again. Despite his attempts to avoid you, Sunghoon begins to notice that, behind your spark and laughter, there is more than just a girl chasing him. As he struggles to maintain his wall of coldness, you, with your boundless light, are determined to break it, proving that even the coldest heart can be touched by the warmth of the sun.

Content: +18MDNI fem!reader x sunghoon, pjo au! zeus' son! sunghoon x apollos daughter! reader, grumpy x sunshine plot, smut, kind of enemies to lovers but not really, virgin! reader, fluffy ending, explicit sex.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked, like and reblogs are appreciated !!

The clang of metal echoed across the training arena, rhythmic and sharp, slicing through the warm afternoon air like thunder before a storm. Camp Half-Blood buzzed with life in the distance, shouts from capture the flag, laughter near the strawberry fields, but here, near the sparring dummies, stood Park Sunghoon.

Broad shoulders tense, dark brows furrowed, and golden light catching on the sweat along his jawline, he looked like he was carved from Olympus itself. Each movement was flawless. Precise, deadly. He swung his celestial silver sword with a controlled rage that made the ground beneath him feel electric.

You watched him from behind the archery pavilion, propping your chin on your hand as you ignored the bow resting in your lap. The way he moved, like the storm he carried in his veins, untouchable, unbothered, beautiful, had your heart doing all sorts of embarrassing things.

“He’s gonna catch you staring again,” Taki, your brother muttered, nudging you.

“I hope he does,” you grinned, unashamed. “Maybe this time he’ll finally realize it’s love.”

Everyone at camp knew you had a thing for the forbidden son of Zeus. How could you not? Sunghoon wasn’t just a demigod—he was the demigod. Taken in at five after monsters nearly tore him apart outside the safety of camp borders. Trained harder than anyone, rose higher than any other camper. And at eighteen, while most of you were still sneaking out for midnight snacks, he was off saving Olympus on a solo quest that made the gods themselves tremble, some swore Ares himself had a battle with him and turned out coming out wounded. Because he was that strong, that fierce, that powerful. Others said his power was actually a curse, because he could never leave camp for more than a few hours, every monster, every enemy was after him, they wanted the most dangerous Demigod dead. And even with that, Sunghoon walked around so relaxed, so confident, it was like he wasn’t scared of anything in the world, and you admired him so much because of that.

He was just a dream.

And you? You were the complete opposite. Apollo’s favorite daughter, according to literally everyone. You could shoot an arrow through the wings of a fly at fifty feet, compose a haiku in ten seconds flat. You had tons of friends from all cabins, and some swore the sunshine followed you wherever you moved, or even better, that you were the sunshine. Always happy, always smiling, always talking to much and laughing with your whole chest. You trained a lot, you really did, after all you were like every other demigod, you wished for glory and power too, but still, you had enough energy to flirt shamelessly with Sunghoon in front of the entire camp. A girl can have hobbies, right?

He’d rejected you so many times, you’d lost count. He scowled, rolled his eyes, muttered things under his breath and turned on his heel before you could finish half a sentence. He was never super mean to you though, he just wasn’t like that, and you knew he found you extremely annoying, but he never really said it, because you knew he was good, he had a good heart beneath that cold facade.

Still, you chased him. Not just because he was handsome (though gods, was he. With his dark hair and his perfect skin and his thick eyebrows and that damn mole you so wanted to kiss), but because every time you looked into his stormy eyes, you swore you saw something flicker. Like lightning trying to break free from thunderclouds.

So yeah, maybe everyone thought you were wasting your time.

But you were the sun. And even the coldest storms couldn’t outrun the morning light forever.

Your eyes trailed down the line of his arm as he twisted to strike again, the muscles beneath his skin rippling with each perfect swing. It was like watching war poetry in motion. And okay, maybe you should’ve been practicing too, but what was a daughter of Apollo if not a shameless admirer of beauty?

You sighed dramatically. “He’s just so—”

“Grumpy?” your sibling offered, not even looking up from their quiver. “Emotionally unavailable? Terrified of human connection?”

“Hot,” you finished with a dreamy smile.

He snorted. “Tragic.”

But then, just as you were mid-swoon, Sunghoon paused. Not dramatically, not like a movie, just the smallest hitch in movement. His shoulders stiffened, his grip faltered. And then, ever so slightly, he turned his head.

Your heart stopped.

For a split second, your eyes met.

Oh, gods.

His gaze was unreadable, intense, stormy, laced with the kind of quiet warning that made your skin prick. You blinked, heart stammering. His eyes dropped to your bow, then flicked back up to your face like he was mentally calculating how much time you’d spent staring instead of training.

Then—

He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

You squeaked. Like actually squeaked. Heat flooded your face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my gods,” you hissed under your breath. “He saw me. I looked like a total stalker.”

“You are a stalker,” Taki whispered with a grin.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning into your palms. “Why does he have to be so pretty when he’s annoyed?! That’s so unfair.”

When you dared peek through your fingers, Sunghoon had already turned away. Back to training. Back to pretending you didn’t exist.

But you saw it.

The tiniest twitch of his mouth.

A smirk.

And just like that, your day was made.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

Sunghoon hated a lot of things.

He hated sunny days, because it was so hot and sweaty that he could barely stand being in his own skin. He hated dumb people. He hated loud music, because his ears were sensitive even if he was literally born from the god of lighting. He hated the camp t-shirt, because he also hated the color orange. He hated Ares children, because they were violent for literally no reason. He hated wars, hated problems, hated people hungry for power. Like every other demigod, like every other god. Like his own father.

Zeus.

The name sat like acid in his mouth. The god of gods. King of Olympus. The one whose power shook the skies. The one who should have been proud of him.

But he never was.

People at Camp Half-Blood whispered about Sunghoon like he was some kind of legend. The forbidden son. The lightning in human form. The boy who went on a solo quest at eighteen and returned with scars no one asked about. Everyone wanted to be around him, everyone respected and admired him, everyone looked at him as if he was the best warrior to ever exist, and probably he was, to the eyes of everybody.

But they didn’t know. They had no idea what that quest really was.

They thought it was glory, honor. A chance to prove himself.

But it wasn’t. It was a setup. A battlefield dressed up as a trial. Monsters he could handle—he’d been fighting them since he was five. But gods?

Even he couldn’t see that betrayal coming.

It was Zeus himself who tried to strike him down.

Not Cronus. Not some ancient titan rising from the depths.

His own father.

Because Sunghoon was too powerful, because thunder cracked when he screamed, because storms listened to him when he was angry, because the sky shook when he bled. Because he was born with a power not even himself could be able to control fully.

And gods didn’t like things they couldn’t control.

So Zeus tried to erase him. Sent him to die alone and made sure it looked like a test of strength. A rite of passage.

Sunghoon survived. Barely. He clinged onto life with blood and nails and teeth, and he ended up returning as a hero.

But something in him had died out there. Something soft. Something warm. The most painful and deadly betrayal he’d ever faced, permanent wounds that weren’t just physical, and the constant, eternal feeling of failure. For everyone else, he was a hero, but for himself, he was just the son that had a father who not only hadn't care about him his whole life, but also hated him. And that, that’s what truly killed every last drop of warm light inside of him.

Now all that was left was discipline, blade, and silence. He spent his days training, getting better, until his body physically couldn’t take it anymore, until the constant thoughts in his head went away. He enjoyed it, he really did. He liked his quiet life, and for most of the times, he could ignore he was the child of the storm.

Well, mostly. Because his quiet life was constantly interrupted by you.

Gods, you.

Y/N.

The golden girl. Apollo’s favorite. Laughter in human form. You were everything he didn’t understand, everything he didn’t trust.

Too bright. Too curious. Too persistent.

You talked too much. You asked too many questions. You walked around under the sunlight, bathing you like a second skin, you trained with a permanent smile in your lips, you joked around, you sang your favorite songs with your whole chest, you played the lyre with delicate fingers, you laughed too loud, you were shameless and energetic and annoying and…

And you smiled at him like he hadn’t been hardened by betrayal. Like you could fix him.

But you couldn’t. No one could.

Still…

Still, his eyes found your earlier today when you thought he wasn’t looking. Bow in hand, sunlight catching the highlights in your hair, that little furrow in your brow when you concentrated—

You were good. Insanely good. Your arrows moved like light itself, precise, fast, radiant.

You belonged to the sun. To music. To warmth. Everyone adored you, everyone liked you.

He had no business watching you the way he did.

But sometimes, he did anyway.

Until you opened your mouth.

Then it was over.

Because every word that came out of you was so… you. Bubbly, relentless, stubbornly optimistic. And he just didn’t know what to do with that kind of joy. Didn’t trust it. Didn’t understand how someone could be so untouched by the same kind of rot that lived inside him. How a daughter of a god could be like this, he even maybe felt envious.

So he rolled his eyes. He walked away. He told himself over and over that he couldn’t stand you.

But he still looked.

And that terrified him more than anything.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The first time you confessed to Sunghoon, you were ten.

It was a warm summer afternoon, and you were sweaty, grass-stained, hair messy and tangled, and absolutely, irrationally determined. Sunghoon, twelve years old and already taller than every other kid in the arena, was off by himself near the creek, sharpening a blade that was nearly the size of his torso. His face was serious. Focused. A tiny storm cloud in the body of a boy.

You marched up with a flower crown in your hand, one that you made with help from the Aprhodite girls, chest puffed out, heart thumping like a war drum.

“Hey!” you’d chirped, practically vibrating with excitement.

He glanced up, brows twitching just enough to show he was already tired of this conversation.

“What?” his tone was cold, too cold, but you still melted.

“I like you.” you just said, biting your lip, squirming in your heels.

There was a beat of silence. A frog croaked in the creek. Somewhere, a Hermes kid screamed about a beehive.

Sunghoon stared at you.

“...Okay?”

You beamed. Smiling widely, you handed him the flower crown, but he didn’t take it, just stared at it, for a few seconds, then your face, expression still very serious.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

He blinked. Twice.

“No.”

You dropped your shoulders, your heart breaking just a little bit. But you weren’t done, he would be yours.

“Is it because I talk too much? I can shut up. Watch—” you slapped your hands over your mouth and made muffled noises of restraint.

He sighed, tired.

“It’s because i’m twelve.”

You lowered your hands, frowning. Then smiled again, the sunshine falling on your face.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance when you’re not twelve?”

Sunghoon stared at you like you were speaking Ancient Greek backwards. Then, without another word, he got up and walked away.

“Wait!” you’d called after him. “You forgot the flower crown!”

He didn’t look back.

But that night, when you snuck out to leave a daisy crown on his cabin doorstep, you swore you saw someone peek through the window.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The sun was at its peak, golden rays filtering through the trees, spreading warm light over Camp Half-Blood, it was a beautiful summer day. Sweat gleamed on your temple as you wiped your brow with the back of your hand, your hair braided falling over one of your shoulders, bow in your grip and a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.

Archery practice had officially ended fifteen minutes ago—but you were still there, refusing to leave until you landed the shot.

A single red apple rested delicately atop the training dummy’s helmet, mocking you like it wanted to be destroyed.

You squinted, lining up your shot. You were getting into that headspace again, where everything melted away and it was just you, your bow, and the sun humming beneath your skin like a second heartbeat.

Then you heard it.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Boots on gravel.

Your heartbeat tripped. You didn’t have to look, You’d memorized that sound ages ago.

Sunghoon.

You could feel his presence before you saw him, like a crackle of static in the air, like the world holding its breath. Like a grey cloud covered the ray of sunshine. You glanced over your shoulder, trying to keep your expression casual, but your pulse was skipping like a pebble across water.

There he was.

Stormcloud incarnate.

He was walking past the range, jaw clenched, shirt sticking to his back from training, a sword strapped across his back. His hair a little messy, a little wet from the sweat, he cleaned a few drops falling from his forehead, clearly annoyed by the heated day. And gods, did he look incredibly good in the sunlight. Like something carved from marble, kissed by thunderstorms and arrogance.

You knew you had no business liking someone like him.

But you did.

And you were nothing if not bold.

“Hey, Zeus-boy!” you called, loud enough for half the camp to hear.

He stopped mid-step, like he was contemplating whether to respond or keep walking and pretend he didn’t hear you. But after a heartbeat, he turned, his expression already dipped in exhaustion.

You beamed at him.

“I bet I can shoot that apple blindfolded.”

His eyes flicked to the dummy. Then to your bow. Then to your very cocky stance. Sughoon sighed, deeply, and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“You’ll miss,” he said flatly.

You tilted your head, smirking, confident.

“What’s the matter? Scared I might bruise that ego of yours?”

His eyes flicked, his posture straightened, his face completely serious, not a clue of even a little smile.

“Scared?” he scoffed. “More like dreading the noise you’ll make if you actually hit it.”

Your heart fluttered. Not that you’d ever admit that.

“So what you’re saying is… you don’t believe in me.”

“I believe you’ll shoot the dummy in the face.”

You suppressed a laugh, he was always like this, trying to underestimate you. Cocky boy.

“Harsh. But fair.” You grinned, already reaching into your quiver. “How about this—we make it interesting.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Define ‘interesting.’”

You looked at the sky, pretending to think, finger against your chin, and he breathed deep again, leg bouncing like he was losing his patience. Then, you smiled again, snapping your fingers.

“If I hit the apple, you admit I’m better than you at something. Just one thing. Anything. I don’t care if it’s archery or baking or making people laugh—your choice.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow.

“And if you miss?”

“I won’t talk to you for an entire week.”

He blinked. A few seconds passed, and your heart was still racing in your chest, he was thinking, of course, he would be happy of you leaving him alone for a few days, you weren’t that dumb to not know.

“…That’s the best offer I’ve heard all day.”

You smiled.

“Oh, so now you want me to miss.” You raised an eyebrow, your grin sharp. “But I won’t.”

He exhaled through his nose, looking up like he was praying for divine patience. Then, arms crossed over his chest, he said

“Fine. Hit the apple, sunshine. Impress me.”

Your heart leapt. Not because of the bet. Not even because you loved a challenge. But because he stayed. And he called you sunshine, even if it was obvious sarcasm, you still liked it.

You pulled the blindfold from your bag and slipped it over your eyes. The world went dark, but your body remembered everything: the position of the apple, the direction of the breeze, the way the sun pulsed on your skin like it was trying to guide you. You prayed to your father mentally, please, please dad, don’t let me miss this shot i promise you i will make you proud for the rest of my life…

You drew your arrow.

Breathed in deep.

Held, your bringes brushed the arch with a familiar force, you knew the movement, the position, the feeling by heart. It was running through your blood.

Released.

Crack.

A perfect, clean split. The apple burst apart in two pieces, toppling off the dummy’s helmet.

Someone nearby gasped. Someone else clapped. You tugged off the blindfold, a bright, victorious smile already on your lips.

You turned to Sunghoon.

He was staring. Not at the apple. At you.

His eyes were unreadable, but there was something in them. Not shock. Not irritation. Something softer. Like confusion wrapped in awe.

Just for a second.

And then—his face closed off. Same serious face as before.

“Lucky shot,” he said gruffly, turning away.

You blinked. Your smile faltered just a little.

“That wasn’t luck,” you said, trying to keep your voice light.

“You always think it’s skill until you miss,” he muttered.

You opened your mouth to respond, when someone bumped into your shoulder from behind, jostling your arm. The arrow in your hand slipped from your fingers and whipped through the air.

Thunk.

Right into the toe of Sunghoon’s boot.

Silence. A breeze rolled through the range. Your heart stopped beating in your chest, your whole face red with embarrasment, you begged to Hades to take you to the underworld in that exact moment. Of course you had to ruin it.

Sunghoon looked down slowly.

You froze, hands halfway raised like you could rewind time with enough desperation. Then he spoke, voice calm, low as always.

“…Are you trying to kill me?”

You widened your eyes, shaking your head.

“No! I—I swear that wasn’t my fault! I was bumped and—and—oh my gods, are you bleeding?!”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because if I hit a toe vein or something I can totally fix it—”

“There’s no such thing as a toe vein.”

You moved closer before he could stop you, already kneeling to inspect the damage. He stepped back instinctively, and you almost fell on your face into the dirt.

“Y/N—”

“Hold still! Let me—oh. Okay. Yeah. That’s gonna bruise. You probably shouldn’t walk. Do you want me to carry you?”

He stared at you like you’d just asked him to marry you. You couldn’t even lift him anyway, he was much taller than you.

“I will ban you from this entire camp,” he said, voice tight.

You stood, brushing off your knees.

“Well, now you’re just being dramatic.”

He yanked the arrow from his boot and tossed it to the dirt with a low growl. Annoyed, a bit angry too, his brows frowned as he talked between his teeth.

“You’re lucky I don’t—”

“I’m always lucky,” you chirped. “It’s part of my charm.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he stalked away without another word.

You stood there, heart pounding in your chest.

He’d looked at you.

Just for a moment, he looked like he saw you.

You glanced down at the arrow in the dirt. Picked it up gently. Held it in your palm like it meant something.

Then you turned and walked the opposite direction, still smiling.

Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he rolled his eyes and glared and walked away like you were the most annoying thing on Earth…

You saw the flicker.

And gods help you, you were going to make it burn.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The locker room was empty, save for the steady drip of water echoing from the showers. Sunghoon sat on the bench near the back, shirt discarded, cleaning the scrape on his shoulder with practiced, irritated hands. The skin was already bruising, a light, angry red smeared with dirt and blood from where the arrow had nicked him.

Stupid.

He wasn’t even supposed to be near the archery range today. He had just finished a brutal solo sparring session and wandered there for some damn reason, and that reason was currently embedded in his skin.

He hissed as the antiseptic hit raw flesh.

Your voice echoed in his mind.

He could still see the way you looked at him, wide-eyed, half-laughing, half-panicked, your hand fluttering uselessly near your mouth like you could wave the accident away. And then you’d giggled. Like it was funny.

He clenched his jaw.

It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t cute. And it definitely wasn’t supposed to make his chest feel weird the way it did.

He threw the bloody cloth into the sink harder than necessary.

Why were you always there? Why did your voice carry across the training fields like it was trying to find him? Why did the other campers look at you like the sun walked when you did?

And why did he notice every damn time you smiled?

He didn’t even like you. Not really. You were loud, you talked too much, you stood too close. You said his name like it tasted sweet on your tongue, and he hated that he noticed the difference.

You were Apollo’s favorite. Everything about you was golden, your laugh, your smile, your damn aura.

Sunshine, he thought bitterly. All light and no sense of self-preservation. Not even sense of danger, it was like you went through life without realizing how dangerous it is for a demigod.

And yet… you could shoot with terrifying precision. You ran faster than half the Hermes cabin. You took hits without flinching. He’d watched you. Too many times.

More than he should have.

Pathetic, he told himself.

This wound wasn’t even that deep, and it didn’t hurt a lot either. He was used to the pain, to the blood, to the stings, his own father tried to kill him years ago.

He wasn’t mad about the arrow. Not really.

He was mad that the second he looked at you, just a glance, just one tiny slip, you’d smiled like it meant something. And worse, something in him had tightened. Not in fear, not in anger. But something softer.

He scrubbed at the wound harder, hissing through his teeth, his jaw hurting from how hard he was clenching it.

She’s a distraction.

Just like Zeus always said. “Distractions will ruin you. You were made to be more than human. So act like it.”

Sunghoon gritted his teeth. Wrapped the bandage tight. Stood up and grabbed his shirt again.

He didn’t need distractions. He didn’t need softness.

He needed distance. From you, from everyone.

But even as he walked out of the locker room, storm brewing in his chest, the faint echo of your laugh trailed behind him, sweet and sunny, like the warmth he swore he didn’t want.

And for a second—just one traitorous second—he wondered what it would be like to let it reach him.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The woods were quiet. Too quiet.

Birdsong had gone silent, wind stilled in the leaves. You and Sunghoon walked with an unspoken tension between you, your steps crunching over twigs and leaves as dusk swallowed the sky. You weren’t supposed to be out this far. But when Sunghoon snuck off with that stormy look in his eye, of course you followed.

Chiron had sent him to a little small quest just to check around camp, to see if there was any suspicious monster activity. And of course he’d say yes, always being so brave even though he knew the danger that would be waiting for him if he got outside for even 10 minutes.

You had just finished a small session of lyre practice, and your siblings wanted a few hours to rest, so you didn’t have much to do either, that’s why you went with him, even if he clearly was not very happy about that.

He didn’t even look back when he caught you trailing him. Just muttered, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

You grinned, softly.

“Neither are you.”

He rolled his eyes and kept walking.

It was almost funny, how predictable this little dance had become through the years. He brooded, you brightened. He snapped, you teased. He ran, you followed. It was like a little fun dynamic, one that you enjoyed, you liked his company even if he kept frowning his eyebrows and rolling his eyes and ignoring you. A little bit delusional, but you didn’t care.

But for some reason, tonight felt different. There was something electric in the air, like the sky was holding its breath.

You kept walking through the woods, the only sound being of your steps, your boots covered in mud, your arch clenched tight to your side. You weren’t scared, you had fought monsters before in small quests, but still, when the air turned colder, every hair in your body jumped, something was wrong.

And then it struck.

A blur of darkness. The smell of sulfur. The low, throaty growl of something ancient. You barely had time to register the hellhound before it lunged at Sunghoon from the trees. You widened your eyes, grabbing your arch, a small scream leaving your throat.

He moved fast, faster than anyone you’d ever seen. Blade drawn, lightning crackling at his knuckles. His first strike hit, but the second didn’t land. The beast was faster. Stronger. And it wanted him.

It slammed him into the ground with a sickening crack.

“Sunghoon!” you shouted, without thinking. And then you ran. Faster than you’d ever did before.

You were by his side in seconds, he was bleeding, his side torn open, breathing shallow. His sword lay feet away, knocked from his hand. The monster towered over him, muscles rippling, eyes glowing. It was ready to kill.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your arrow flew true, straight into its neck. It reeled back with a howl, giving you just enough time to get between it and Sunghoon. Bow discarded, you drew your dagger, heart pounding so hard it hurt. But you weren’t scared of the monster, you were scared of losing him.

“Get away from him,” you growled.

You fought like you were born to do it. Fast. Sharp. Precise. You moved around the monster with unrelenting speed, slashing, ducking, dodging, not stopping even when its claws grazed your arm. A gasp left your mouth, and you saw the blood starting to run, your delicate arm almost destroyed.

“You dirty ugly thing! That fucking hurt!” You screamed at it, and it responded with a loud growl that made the trees around you shake.

But you didn’t flinch, you passed your blade to your other arm and slammed it right into its face. Rage, because of the wound, because that thing was brave enough to touch him. And while you were alive, nobody had the right to hurt the man that you loved.

Sunghoon watched from the ground, stunned, more by you than the fight.

Because you weren’t just good.

You were exceptional.

And gods, you were furious. You didn’t stop until the hellhound collapsed, snarling, non-stopping, your hair sticking to your face as you moved around and fought with all your force.

One last strike before it dissolved into dust at your feet.

Your chest was heaving, your arm bleeding. But you were alive. The world felt a little hazy, your skin stang too much, the pain almost numbing.

But you didn’t care.

You turned to him immediately, dropping to your knees. “Sunghoon, are you okay? Are you—?”

He shoved your hand away as you reached for his wound. And you freezed, trying to smile like it was ok.

“I didn’t need your help.”

You blinked, breath catching.

“What?”

“I had it handled.”

“No, you didn’t.” You gestured to the ground. “You were on your back, unarmed—”

“I had it,” he snapped, voice sharp and cold. “I didn’t ask you to jump in.”

You couldn’t believe it. He was always annoyed by you, a lot. But this was another level, you just saved his life, you just killed a monster for him, you just showed him how much you cared.

And he still didn’t see it. Or refused to see it.

“I wasn’t going to let it kill you,” you said, louder now, trying to keep the shake out of your voice. “Gods, what is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped back. “You think because you shoot sunshine out of your damn fingertips you can just insert yourself into everything? I’m not some project you get to fix. I don’t need your stupid golden glow or your pity or—” he paused, eyes narrowing, “whatever this crush is you think you’ve got going.”

You stared at him, and suddenly the pain from your arm wasn’t that bad, because something in your chest was heavier. Your shoulders dropped.

He said it so easily. Like it meant nothing.

“I wasn’t saving you because I have a crush,” you said, voice tight. “I saved you because I care. Because I didn’t want to see you die. Is that really so horrible?”

He didn’t answer. He just stood, slowly, painfully, pressing a hand to his side.

And then, in a voice like thunder under pressure:

“Just stay the fuck away from me. I mean it, once and for all.”

You flinched, actually flinched. His words sliced deeper than any monster’s claws. And for the first time… you didn’t push back.

You didn’t joke. You didn’t smile. Because suddenly reality hit you like a train, he really didn’t like you, not ever, not after all this years, not after proving yourself for him.

You just stood there, eyes wide and shining in the dying light, and whispered, “Okay.”

And then you turned.

And walked.

And didn’t look back.

Sunghoon stood there in the wreckage—blood on his side, dirt on his face, and something breaking deep in his chest. He watched the sun disappear with you.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, water glittering like it was mocking you. Like it knew.

You sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling just above the surface, heels knocking softly against the worn wood. Around you, Camp Half-Blood was alive with summer noise, laughter echoing from the climbing wall, the thud of swords from the arena, the occasional burst of campfire song drifting on the breeze.

But you felt like you were somewhere else entirely. Somewhere quiet, somewhere hollow.

Your fingers twisted a daisy you’d picked, tearing it apart petal by petal.

“He loves me,” you mumbled, letting the petal float away on the water.

“He loves me not.”

Another petal.

“He loves me.”

Pause. Your throat tightened.

“He loves me not.”

You crushed the last petal between your fingers.

Why does it still hurt?

You hadn’t spoken to him in days. Not since the hellhound. Not since he bled on the forest floor and looked you in the eyes like you were the problem. Not since he told you to stay the fuck away like you hadn’t just saved his life.

And gods, you had. You did save him.

But he didn’t want saving.

Especially not from you.

And it wasn’t the rejection that stung, not really. You knew Sunghoon was all sharp edges and storm clouds, and you never expected softness from him. But what hurt was the way he acted like he didn’t want to be seen. Like your kindness was some kind of threat. Like he didn’t think he deserved to be helped, let alone loved.

You had your hand on his chest, pressing his wound, your fingers trembling and slick with his blood, and all he could say was  I didn’t ask for this.”

You had laughed it off to everyone else. Joked like it didn’t matter. But now, alone with only the breeze and the lapping water to witness you—

“I don’t like him anymore,” you whispered, voice soft, uncertain.

Then louder.

“I don’t. I don’t like him. Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard and clenched your fists. “He doesn’t deserve it anyway. He’s mean. He’s impossible. He’s—he’s cold and rude and he hates when I talk and he probably hates when I breathe and—”

Your voice cracked.

And suddenly it was too much.

Your shoulders hunched forward, and the tears you’d been holding back for days slipped past your lashes, warm and silent. You pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes like that would stop them. Like you could push the ache back in. Like you could pretend you weren’t breaking.

But you were.

Not because he rejected you. You were used to that, he had rejected you many times before, since the first time you confessed. But because for a second—just a second—you really thought he saw you.

All of you.

Your spark, your fire, your light. Your strength, that you were actually more than just a girl with a stupid, embarrassing crush.

And you thought maybe he didn’t hate it.

Maybe he even… liked it.

But he didn’t.

He hated it.

He hated you.

More tears fell, faster now, wetting your cheeks, dripping onto your knees. You hugged them to your chest and buried your face in your arms.

“I don’t like him,” you whispered again, broken this time. “I don’t. I don’t.”

But the lie didn’t hold. Not anymore.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The sun had set hours ago, but the clouds still hovered low, thick and heavy in the dark sky like they were waiting for a reason to break open.

Sunghoon sat on the slanted roof of the Hermes cabin, legs stretched out, back leaning against the chimney. The air was cool, cooler than usual, but he didn’t feel it. Not because he was used to the cold. But because he was too wrapped up in the tight pull in his chest and the lingering sting of words he couldn’t unsay.

You weren’t looking at him anymore.

Not in training. Not at meals. Not even in passing. You just trained, talked to your friends, then stayed inside your cabin all day.

The absence of your gaze, it should’ve been a victory.

It wasn’t.

His jaw tightened as he glanced down at the campgrounds. Everything looked… normal. Someone from Hephaestus cabin was still tending to the garden torches. The Aprhodite kids were still braiding each others hair under the dim light of the sunset. Apollo’s kids—your siblings—were singing around the fire like they always did.

And you weren’t there.

He hadn’t seen your laugh in five days. He hadn’t heard your humming while walking past him, or seen your stupid bright smile you always wore when you were about to say something too fast, too loud, too you.

You were quiet now.

And all because of him.

“Good,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “That’s good. She’s finally listening.”

He should feel at peace. This was good, this is what he’d been wanting for years, just distance from you.

He didn’t.

Instead, he felt this… gnawing weight in his chest. Like guilt, but heavier. Like regret, but sharper. And under it all, fear.

The same fear that always haunted him.

Because this wasn’t just about you.

It never was.

It was about who he was. What he was. The son of Zeus.

The mistake.

The threat.

People called him a hero, a legend, a symbol. He was the boy who stopped Olympus from burning. The one who survived a solo quest against a Titan army. The one who stood under a blackened sky at eighteen and thought—for one second—he had done something worthy.

Until the sky turned against him.

Until he saw that lightning bolt twist in the clouds, not towards the enemy, but towards him.

He still remembered the sound it made. The sharp crack. The way the earth split just inches from where he stood. The voice that followed, low and cruel, echoing in the wind.

“You were never meant to live this long.”

He’d stood in the wreckage, skin burned, blood on his lips, and realized—

His father had sent the bolt.

His father wanted him gone.

Because he was too strong. Too unpredictable. Too much like a god.

Too dangerous.

Sunghoon blinked hard and looked up at the clouds. There was no thunder tonight, no sign of his father. Just the heavy stillness of a world that hadn’t changed. The world he so much hated, the world that he didn’t belong.

No one knew. Not the other campers. Not the counselors. Not even Chiron.

Sunghoon carried it alone.

And now? He’d hurt you.

You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into his chaos. You were light, warmth, all the things he wasn’t, and being near you felt like standing in the sun after years in the dark. And before, when you saved him from the monster without hesitation, without thinking about you first, just about him, just about his life. He couldn’t believe how you were that selfless, that warm-hearted.

But that was the problem.

Because eventually, even the sun burns.

And he was tired of fire.

So he said things he didn’t mean, he pushed you away like you were the threat. Like you were the one who might ruin him, not the other way around.

He told himself it was safer this way. You couldn’t get too close if he kept building the wall. You couldn’t look at him with those soft, hopeful eyes. Couldn’t touch his arm like you wanted to stay. Couldn’t see the cracks in him if he never let you close enough to look.

But now?

You were gone.

And he hated how much he noticed.

How quiet the world felt without your voice, even if he used to love his quiet life. How training didn’t feel like an escape anymore. How his victories felt hollow. How every time he shut his eyes, your beautiful face was there, angry, hurt, distant.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, breathing out slow and heavy.

“I’m not him,” he whispered, barely audible.

But he didn’t believe it.

Not when he saw the way your shoulders trembled as she walked away. Not when he remembered the look in your pretty eyes, like he’d destroyed something you didn’t even know you were handing him.

I’m not him. I’m not my father.

But every time he pushed someone away… every time he chose silence over kindness… every time he used his power to isolate instead of protect—

He saw Zeus in the mirror.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The sky had been rentless for days.

Even without a prophecy, even without Chiron’s grim warnings, everyone felt it, that gut-wrenching tension in the air, like the gods themselves were holding their breath. The barrier at Camp Half-Blood had been flickering at the edges like a candle about to go out, and the atmosphere felt like it was pressing down on the campers’ chests. Tighter and tighter.

You had been quiet all day.

For once, not joking. Not smiling. Not chasing after a certain grumpy son of Zeus who hadn’t even looked in your direction since your last fight. Your body ached from training, but your heart ached more. And the silence in camp? It felt too heavy to carry alone.

You stood by the archery range, fingers gripping the polished wood of your bow, eyes scanning the shadows of the woods. Something was wrong, you could tell, but you didn’t quite put your finger on it.

The air felt different, heavy, like something really bad was about to happen. And the clouds were gray, the day so gloomy, about to rain.

You sighed before starting to walk towards your cabin, planning to stay in bed all day so you could avoid looking at Sunghoon.

But then—a snap.

A branch. Far too close. Far too intentional.

You turned just in time to see a ripple, like something slicing through the barrier. A tear. Then it broke. Ripped, as if by claws.

The air screamed. Your heart stopped in your chest, your eyes widened, your legs trembled.

A deafening roar shattered the silence, and then all at once, chaos descended.

Monsters. Not one. Dozens. Charging through the weakened barrier like hell had opened its gates. Hellhounds, cyclopes, dracaenas dark, massive, frothing creatures spilling into camp like floodwater.

The storm broke overhead.

And it poured.

It was all too fast, all too blurry, like a nightmare come to life.

Campers screamed and scattered, grabbing weapons, dragging younger demigods to shelter. Magic flared through the sky, flashes of green, blue, orange, but the monsters were relentless. They came in waves, more than anyone had ever seen inside the borders.

You didn’t hesitate.

You sprinted towards the east ridge, losing arrows as you ran. Your eyes scanned for anyone injured, for anyone alone, for your siblings, but it was too fast. A hellhound lunged towards you, and you flipped out of its path, spinning mid-air to shoot an arrow clean through its eye.

Thud. Down. Another behind it. Then another.

It didn’t stop. They were too many, and you were running out of arrows, out of breath, but you kept going.

The ground was soaked with mud and blood, and you could barely see through the curtain of rain. You ducked as a spear flew past your head, rolled, and landed hard on your side.

That’s when you saw it.

A chimera. Twice the size of the one in the old training books. Foaming, frothing, fire curling from its lion mouth and venom dripping from its serpent tail. The demigod killer.

Your breath caught, panick starting to rise, but you didn’t let it take you over.

It charged.

You fired once, twice, three times, all hitting, but barely slowing it down. Your chest was heaving, the blood in your veins running fast. It barreled through a group of campers, swiping one aside like a rag doll.

And then its eyes locked onto you.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

You tried to run—slipped, the grass was soaked.

The tail struck first, slicing across your side, sending you skidding across the wet ground. Your bow flew from your hands. Blood rushed from your ribs. Pain bloomed white-hot in her chest. You shut your eyes, screaming, your hands shaking against the open wound.

But you stood.

Gritting your teeth, clutching your side, you reached for a dagger and faced the monster head-on.

“I’m not done yet,” you whispered, even as your knees buckled.

It lunged, and you raised your blade, ready to strike.

But then, BOOM.

A thunderclap exploded above you, followed by a bolt of lightning that struck mere feet from the chimera. The impact sent the beast reeling.

From above, slicing through the rain like a blade, he came.

Sunghoon.

Drenched, furious, glowing with power. His sword flashed silver in the stormlight, and his eyes burned with a rage that seemed to come straight from the sky. He didn’t yell. He didn’t need to.

He moved.

His blade danced in arcs, calculated, violent, beautiful. The chimera snapped its jaws, tail lashing, but Sunghoon dodged every strike with impossible grace. He struck again, slicing across its shoulder, then spun, slamming his boot into its head and sending it crashing to the ground.

But it rose again, roaring fire toward him.

He raised his hand, and lightning answered.

It struck the chimera square in the chest, setting its fur ablaze. It screamed once, then dropped, twitching in the mud. Dead.

Silence followed. Deafening. Campers stared from the tree line, breathless.

Sunghoon stood over the corpse like a war god, untouched but seething. He proved once again why he was the strongest warrior to ever exist.

And then you spoke, voice weak because of the pain, from both your wounds and your broken heart.

“Of course,” you groaned from where she was still on the ground, soaked, bloodied. “Here comes Zeus Jr.”

His head snapped toward you. Eyes narrowing, that same damn expression you once loved but you were starting to get tired of.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

“No kidding,” you muttered, struggling to sit up.

He took a step closer.

“You should’ve stayed back.”

“I was back,” you shot, dragging yourself upright with the help of a tree. “It found me. I didn’t ask for a knight in electro-shining armor.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, sword still on his hand.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“Sure.”

The rain poured harder.

“Stop trying to be a hero,” you said, bitterly. For the first time talking to him in this tone “You’re not the only one who can fight.”

“I know,” he snapped.

You scoffed, but there was no fun in your face.

“Then why do you act like I’m weak?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“Because you don’t belong in the middle of this!” he shouted suddenly, and you flinched, blinking. “Because if you get hurt, it’s not just about you anymore, it’s—fuck.”

He turned away, fists clenched, rain soaking his clothes, his dark hair, his beautiful face.

Your expression shifted.

“Then what is it about, Sunghoon?” you asked, stepping closer despite the blood dripping down your arm. “Why do you keep pushing me away like I’m the enemy? Why do you act like I’m something to be afraid of?”

He didn’t answer. And you were furious.

“Why do you think you’re not allowed to be loved?”

Crack. Thunder rolled like a growl, and you flinched again, the sky reflecting Sunghoon’s expression.

He turned, eyes blazing.

“Because I’m a monster too!” he shouted, voice breaking. “Because I was born cursed. Because my father—the king of the gods—tried to kill me. Because every time I care about someone, the gods take it away. Because I saved Olympus and he still looked at me like I was wrong!”

You froze. Lightning split the sky behind him. A knot built in your throat, you couldn’t speak. This confession, it finally made sense to you. Why he was like that, why he pushed people away, why he was so focused only in training. And you realized too, Sunghoon wasn’t just brave because he was Zeus’ son, he was because he had no choice. Because deep down, where nobody saw him, he was actually really scared.

Of himself, of his lineage, of everything that his life meant.

You swallowed, opening your mouth but the words just didn’t come.

“I push you away because I don’t know how not to, Y/N,” he said, quieter now, throat tight. “Because I see everything I want in you, and I know I can’t have it.”

Silence. The rain softened just a little.

He couldn’t look at you, his gaze was on the ground, but you saw him. Not Park Sunghoon, the forbidden son, the strongest warrior, the child of the storm.

Just Sunghoon, the little boy you’d been in love with since you were ten, the little boy who had a cold wall around him, and he never let anyone in. The little boy who grew up alone, scared, and the little boy who’s own father tried to kill.

Then, softly, you said.

“You already have me,” you whispered.

And without thinking, you reached for him. You could barely walk, but you did anyways, fast, your heart pounding in your chest, but for the first time it wasn’t just because of a stupid crush, but for the immense affection you had for this man.

He flinched, but didn’t move.

And when your arms wrapped around him, something broke.

Not the sky.

Not the storm.

But him.

His sword dropped. His head fell to your shoulder. He grabbed you tight, as if he never wanted to let you go, or never wanted you to let him go.

And he let himself be held. For the first time ever.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

The storm had passed, but Camp Half-Blood still bore its scars.

The training fields were torn apart, trees splintered, the ground muddy and red. Campers moved in hushed voices, some bandaged, others limping, the weight of what had happened still lingering like a bruise beneath the skin.

No one died, thanks to the gods.

The golden glow of the Apollo cabin had always felt warm, comforting in a way that mirrored its occupants. Now, that same golden light bled through gauzy curtains and danced across your skin as you laid on your bed, propped up by a nest of pillows, half-wrapped in bandages. Your laughter, soft and airy, filled the space, a balm over the storm the camp had just endured.

Your siblings buzzed around you like hummingbirds, fussing over your hair, feeding you sweetened nectar, adjusting your blanket, whispering far too loudly about a certain brooding demigod who’d taken post at the far corner of the room.

“Is he still there?” Taki whispered, not quietly.

“He hasn’t blinked in twenty minutes,” another added, munching on a cracker.

“He literally dragged her out of a battlefield like some tragic hero in a war movie,” a third said dramatically, hand on heart.

You groaned, pressing the heel of your palm to your forehead. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

“And yet, you’re blushing,” your sister teased.

“I’m injured!”

“Yeah, but not blind. He’s still standing right there.”

And he was.

Park Sunghoon.

Leaning silently against the far wall, arms crossed, a bruise blooming on his jaw, dark hair damp from the rain that still drizzled outside. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, exposing a long scratch that was half-scabbed and half-healed. Despite every opportunity, he hadn’t left since you were brought in, just stood guard like he didn’t know how to do anything else.

You glanced at him from beneath your lashes, a teasing smile playing at your lips. That same feeling in your chest, in your heart, that you’d had for him. It never went away.

“What can I say?” you murmured to your siblings, dramatically pressing a hand to your heart. “I’m so lucky.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward you.

He rolled them, visibly, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. A ghost of something softer. Maybe amusement. Maybe relief.

But he still owed you a conversation.

“Okay, out,” you said, waving your siblings away. “Shoo. Give a girl some space to die tragically in peace.”

One by one, your siblings peeled away with dramatic groans and cheeky winks, until the cabin settled into a golden silence, filled only by the hum of cicadas outside and the steady beat of your heart.

He looked at you again, serious, as always, but there was something different in his eyes this time, something warm.

Sunghoon hesitated before walking over. His steps were quiet. Measured.

You shifted as he sat carefully on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his knees, posture rigid like he was still braced for a battle that hadn’t come yet.

“You stayed,” you said softly, eyes flicking to his face.

“You got hurt,” he replied, his voice low.

“I didn’t need you to come.”

“I came anyway.”

That silenced you. For a moment.

Your fingers picked at a loose thread on her blanket.

“You haven’t said anything since.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“Well, you could start with I’m glad you’re not dead,” you joked half-heartedly.

He didn’t smile. But his jaw worked, like the words were stuck somewhere between his throat and his chest.

“I am glad,” he said, quieter this time.

You blinked.

Something inside you, tight and aching, twisted. You thought about his words from before, how he crashed out as if he’d been carrying with the heavy weight of what happened for years, how he’d been suffering alone.

“…Sunghoon?”

He didn’t look at you.

Instead, he exhaled deeply, and then… he started speaking. Slowly. Like he was trying to figure out how to make himself real for the first time in years.

“When I was five, the monsters wouldn’t stop. My mom said it was like I had a target painted on me. They were relentless.” His voice was flat. Detached. “She brought me here to keep me alive. Dropped me off and i never saw her again.”

You didn’t move. You barely breathed. You just let him talk, a bulge starting to built inside your chest.

“When I turned eighteen, the gods sent me on a solo quest. Olympus was on the verge of war. I stopped it. Somehow.” He swallowed. “They called me a hero. Said I saved everything. But…”

He looked at you then.

And you saw it.

The storm that lived inside his eyes.

“…My father was there. Zeus. He watched. He… waited. And then he tried to kill me.”

Sunghoon’s voice shook for the first time. “He said I was too powerful. That I could become a threat. Said it would be easier to eliminate the possibility.”

Your eyes filled with tears. “Oh, gods…”

“No one knows.” He shook his head. “Not Chiron. Not the other gods. I never told anyone. What would it matter? I lived. That should be enough.”

“It’s not,” you whispered fiercely. “It’s not enough.”

He looked away again.

“After that, I stopped trying to feel. I train. I fight. I do what they ask. Because if even my own father thinks I’m dangerous… maybe he’s right. Maybe if I let my guard down for a second, I’ll turn into him.”

You reached forward, your hand trembling, and touched his fingers.

He let you hold them, not flinching, not avoiding you like all of these years, just letting himself be real with you, letting you give him of some of your warm.

“Sunghoon… you’re nothing like him.”

His eyes met yours. His voice cracked. “Then why do I hurt people?”

“You don’t mean to.”

“I hurt you.”

You smiled through your tears, a shaky laugh bubbling from your lips.

“Yeah. Well. I kinda deserved it. I’ve been annoying you since I was ten.”

His mouth twitched again. This time, for real. You saw him smile for the first time, and it was the most beautiful sight ever. Your heart fluttered inside of you.

“You haven’t changed.”

“And you’re still grumpy.”

You stared at each other for a long moment.

Then Sunghoon reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered on your cheek, thumb catching a falling tear. Your skin jumped, his hand was cold, too cold, but it felt good, sweet, gentle and you leaned to his touch, his eyes sparkling.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, voice almost pleading.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Shut up.” You sniffled. “You just trauma-dumped on me, i have feelings.”

He laughed quietly. A little broken. A little healed. But it was the most gorgeous sound ever, you wanted it imprinted in your mind forever. You realized that, maybe you were in love fully of this man, nothing he’d do would ever make you hate him.

Not after he told you his deepest secret, not after he saved your life, not after he opened with you.

You looked at him again, in silence, and his gaze never left yours. It wasn’t a cold look anymore, it was warm and bright, like the first rays of sunlight after a storm. The kind of warmth you’d always believed lived somewhere inside him, hidden beneath layers of scars and silence. And now, it was there. Open. Soft. Yours.

The breath caught in your throat. Every moment that had led to this—every time you’d chased after him with a smile, every time he pushed you away with gritted teeth—suddenly made sense. It was all leading here. To this quiet, breathless second.

Then he leaned in.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, or greedy, or anything like the heat that had been simmering between you for so long. It was slow—almost reverent. Like he was tasting sunlight for the first time. Like he was terrified it might burn him, but he wanted it anyway. His lips were soft but certain, moving against yours with a quiet desperation he’d never let himself show. One hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if grounding himself in the reality of you.

You melted into him, hands sliding up his chest, fingertips trembling. A soft noise escaped your throat, half a gasp, half a sob, and he responded with a deeper kiss, pulling you closer like he couldn’t get enough.

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of your breaths, quick and shallow, his heavier, more labored. Your bodies were still pressed close together, but everything had changed.

Sunghoon was hovering over you, eyes dark and searching. The way his fingers brushed across your skin was reverent, like he was afraid of breaking something if he moved too quickly. And yet, the way you smiled at him, your hands drifting over his chest, made him feel like everything about this was exactly what he needed.

You were still catching your breath, lips tingling, heart stammering in your chest. You searched his face, his storm-dark eyes, the way his jaw flexed like he was trying to hold back everything he felt. But you could see it now. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his in a softer kiss this time, almost shy despite everything. And he chased it. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, anchoring you as his mouth moved with more intent. A low sound escaped from deep in his throat, and you felt it everywhere, your spine, your stomach, the tips of your fingers.

He pressed you gently back onto the bed, following you down, lips never leaving yours. Your hands found the edge of his shirt, fisting the fabric as you tugged him closer. There was no more hesitation now, only want, only need, and the comfort of finally being seen.

When you parted for air, you were breathless, cheeks flushed. “Sunghoon…”

And when you shifted, pulling him just a little closer, he froze.

“You’re still hurt,” he rasped, pulling back slightly, his hand flattening over your bandaged side.

“So are you,” you replied.

“That’s not the same.”

“I’m fine.”

“You almost died.”

“And you didn’t leave.”

His jaw tensed. You reached up and pressed your fingers to his cheek, drawing his attention back to you.

“I want this,” you said quietly, honestly. “I want you. Not just the hero. Not the demigod. Just you.”

His walls nearly went up again. You saw it, the flinch in his eyes, the way his shoulders stiffened like he was about to retreat. But then, slowly, he exhaled. Let himself be seen. Let your words settle into the softest part of him.

“…Stay still,” he murmured.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m gonna kiss you again.”

Your heart stuttered. “Then what was—?”

He kissed you before you could finish. Gentle. Deeper. Slow like the sky opening after a long storm. His hands found your waist, easing you back into the pillows, careful of your wounds, but not afraid to touch touch now. You opened beneath him, heat sparking low in your belly, breath hitching as your bodies aligned, as your hands dragged across the slope of his shoulders, his back, his chest.

He kissed your collarbone, then lower, taking his time. Every touch, every kiss felt like a promise, not just of desire, but of something more. Something real. His fingertips grazed the hem of your shirt, and he paused again, looking up at you with something deeper than just want.

“Are you sure?”

You just nodded, biting your lip, your heart pounding with so much force.

“I’ve been waiting for this. I…I saved myself, for you.”

It took him a full second to register your words.

Then another to believe them.

And when they did, they hit like a tidal wave. His hands tightened in the sheets, his breath stalling in his throat as he stared down at you with something between awe and desperation.

“You…” he rasped, swallowing hard. “You can’t say shit like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m barely holding on here,” he growled, dragging a hand down his face. “Because if you keep saying things like that, I’m going to stop pretending I can control myself around you.”

You shifted beneath him, fingers sliding into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Then don’t.”

That undid him.

With a strained sound, he kissed you again, deeper this time. Like he was drowning in you. Like everything he’d kept buried for years had broken through the surface and surged forward with no intention of retreating. His body pressed closer, mouth warm and hungry on yours, the air between you thick with heat and emotion.

The air between you grew hotter, heavier. He groaned softly as your nails scratched lightly down his back, and you felt him shiver, his body flush against yours now, every hard line of him pressing into your softness. He lifted your shirt over your shoulders, carefully, his touch cold but gentle, and you whimpered when his hands trailed down your torso, slow, but needy. You were left in the lacy white fabric of your bra, and he looked at you like trying to memorise every inch, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You're so beautiful" his voice came in a weak whisper, and you bit your lip, blushing.

His touch wandered more freely now, fingers tracing the delicate lace before gently sliding the strap off your shoulder. He kissed the skin he revealed, soft and slow, and you shivered. Sunghoon’s hands finally found their way beneath the lace, warm palms cupping your breasts with a reverence that made you gasp. His thumbs brushed your nipples and your back arched off the mattress instinctively, pressing yourself harder into him, into his touch, into the heat that coiled between your legs.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word a low growl against your skin as he kissed down your throat, teeth grazing gently. “You’re driving me insane.”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you.

“Told you I was dangerous.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his head, eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something raw. “You’ve been playing with fire since the day I met you.”

“And look at you,” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly over the taut muscles of his abdomen. “Finally letting yourself burn.”

He groaned, then kissed you again, no hesitation, no restraint. His mouth was hungry on yours, his tongue sliding against yours with a desperation that made your toes curl. His hips rolled against yours and you felt him, hard, needy, pressing right where you ached most.

“Sunghoon,” you gasped, legs falling open to cradle his hips.

He gritted his teeth, one hand sliding down your stomach and unbuttoning your jeans with one swift motion. You felt like you were dreaming, you had been thinking about this moment for years, and it was finally happening. It wasn't just lust, it was something more, something that you felt inside of you, like you belonged to him.

You helped him shove the denim down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear, flushed and breathless beneath him. His hand brushed over the damp heat between your thighs and his breath caught.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “Is that all for me?”

You bit your lip, teasing even now.

“Guess I have a type. Grumpy, sword-wielding sons of Zeus.”

He looked at you with disbelief, but then he laughed. His laugh was low, strained, as he hooked a finger in the side of your underwear and pulled it down slowly, watching the way you squirmed beneath his gaze.

“Keep joking like that and I’m not going to last.”

You smirked, a little shy, a little wrecked.

“Then maybe stop teasing me and do something about it.”

That was all it took.

He slid two fingers into you without warning, and your head fell back with a choked moan. His movements were slow but deep, curling just right, hitting that spot that made your thighs tremble. Your pussy clenched around his digits as if it had been waiting for this moment too, soaked walls pushing him in, and he bit his lip watching his fingers glisten with your arousal, thrusting them, still gentle, but with skill, wet sounds starting to build.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered against your throat, pressing kisses to your collarbone, then lower, until his lips wrapped around your nipple and you gasped, his body grinding against yours. “So fucking perfect.”

“More,” you gasped, hips moving against his hand. “Please, Sunghoon—need you.”

He sucked your nipple softly, soaking it with his saliva, and he twitched his wrist, his movements becoming faster, more purposeful. The wet sound of his fingers thrusting into you filled the air between your ragged breaths, you clung to him like a lifeline, the heat blooming under your skin, spreading like wildfire.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair as he moved between worship and hunger, his lips dragging from your chest to your neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin. Then his thumb found your clit, slow, torturing circles that made you whine and rock your hips against him again, as he curled his fingers and brushed your g-spot.

Then, with shaky hands, you found the hem of his shirt, and slid it out of his body, throwing it on the floor. Your gaze trailed with sparkly eyes, he was a real life god, you were sure about that. His pale, glistening skin, the line of his abs, the muscles on his arms, and the perfect v-line in his hips, you moaned again, because it was the most beautiful sight ever. You took your time touching him, your warm, delicate fingers running through his torso. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, each slight tremor in his body feeding the dizzy heat growing inside you. He was still working his fingers inside you, coaxing out every soft gasp and whimper from your lips, but now he was shaking too, not from exertion, but from holding back.

"You really are the man of my dreams." A small smile painted on your lips, and he smirked softly, kissing you again.

He kissed you like he was learning every part of you, the pace, the sighs, the way your mouth moved against his. His tongue swept gently along your lower lip before slipping inside, claiming you all over again.

You whimpered into his mouth as his free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing just under your eye with surprising tenderness.

“You feel like you were made for me,” he murmured against your lips. “Every inch of you.”

Your hands moved lower, tracing the lines of his torso, the sharp dip of his waist, until they reached the waistband of his pants. You hesitated for a heartbeat, eyes flicking up to his.

He nodded once, barely, but his gaze was molten, like he was begging.

You pushed them down slowly, revealing more of him, inch by inch, your fingers brushing over the firm muscle of his thighs. He was trembling now, barely holding himself back. His breath came rough and shaky, and he watched your every movement like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever witnessed. His length was hard and throbbing under his boxers, and you wasted no time in stroking him with your palm, slow, but still needy, your mouth watered, and he hissed between his teeth, hips bucking against your touch.

“You’re perfect,” you said, voice shaking. “So perfect it scares me.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his body still pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear to pull away.

Everything about him, his scent, his skin, the sound of his voice murmuring your name against your throat, was imprinting into your senses. You never wanted to forget a single second.

And when he finally slid his fingers out of you, slow and slick, you gasped again, your walls fluttering around nothing, and he brought them to his lips, eyes locked with yours as he tasted you. A low groan slipped from his throat.

“You taste like fucking heaven.”

You blushed, overwhelmed, by the pleasure, by the lust, but also by his gaze, he looked even more ruined than you. You turned your face to hide your blush, but he caught your chin gently, guiding you to look back at him.

“Don’t,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. “Don’t look away.”

His words settled deep in your chest, and you felt it, how everything in this moment had shifted. It wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just longing. It was years of tension, of biting words and lingering stares, soft smiles and silent hopes, finally unraveling.

Then he straightened just a bit, knees against the mattress of your small bed, and he slid his boxers down, a gasp left your throat, and you squirmed at the sight. His cock was thick, hard, veins popping under the skin, red tip leaking, glistening, and not being cheesy, but it really was the most beautiful, not that you'd seen a lot, anyways. The thought made you chuckle, and you covered your face again, he looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

"Are you seriously laughing right now?" his tone was something between annoyed, horny and amused, and you laughed again, biting your lip.

"I'm sorry, i'm sorry! I was just thinking that you have a really beautiful dick"

He blinked, clearly not expecting that, and for a moment, his expression was priceless, caught between pride and disbelief. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned over you, arms braced on either side of your head. He grabbed your thigh, strong, but not violent, and wrapped it around his waist, spreading you just for him, and you felt it again, your needy, leaking pussy clenching around nothing. But not for so long, because he grabbed himself by the base, leaning against your entrance but not pulling in yet, just rubbing his tip against your soaked folds, and you whined, arching your back.

"Beautiful, huh?" he murmured, his voice low, teasing now, brushing his nose lightly against your cheek. "You’re unbelievable."

You gasped, cheeks flushed, your body burning with anticipation and need.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I’m yours.”

And the way he looked at you in that moment, like you were both his salvation and his undoing, told you that no matter what came next, he was already too far gone to turn back.

With that, he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside, and your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut at the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness.

You gasped when he filled you completely, the stretch stealing your breath, a rush of overwhelming sensation blooming deep in your core. He was so big, and your body trembled from the way he held you, so tightly, so completely, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. And gods, he was warm, inside and out, melting away the ache that had lodged in your chest for years.

You blinked up at him, vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized had welled in your eyes. Not from pain, no, not at all, but from everything. Every laugh you’d chased him down for, every time he’d brushed you off with that grumpy scowl, every moment you told yourself it didn’t matter that he didn’t want you… and now, here he was. Inside you. Holding you like you mattered. Looking at you like you were everything.

He groaned low and long, grabbing you by your hips with one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, kissing you, hot breath and spit and tongue, and you moaned against his lips when he thrusted just a little bit, holding himself back because he didn't want to hurt you, not anymore.

You gasped when he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours, his arms trembling from the effort of holding back.

“Breathe,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. His forehead pressed to yours. “Just feel me.”

You did. Gods, you felt everything.

The way he filled you, stretched you, moved with you. Every slow roll of his hips made your legs shake, made you cling tighter to him, every vein stimulating your sensitive walls, how he throbbed inside of you. You never imagined he could be this gentle, this attentive, like every part of him was focused solely on you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice rough but soft, one hand trailing down your side, soothing over your skin.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip, blinking up at him with glassy eyes.

“No, just… full. So full.”

Sunghoon cursed under his breath, pulling out a fraction and thrusting back in. Your back arched and you whimpered, your thighs wrapping tighter around his waist. He was so deep, so thick inside of you, stretching you, the whole world around you disappeared, and the air was so hot, your heart pounding inside of your chest, your body full of pleasure.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured against your ear, voice filled with lust and affection “feels like you were made for me.”

The words hit you harder than they should’ve, and a helpless sound escaped your lips, somewhere between a sob and a moan. His rhythm faltered for a second.

“Are you crying?” he asked, panicked.

You laughed through the tears, arms still around him.

"This is like the climax of my crush ok, don't judge me."

Sunghoon groaned and kissed you again, this time deeper, tongue sweeping into your mouth and stealing your breath. His thrusts picked up speed, the heat between your bodies climbing, burning. He was fully fucking you now, still gentle, but needier, messier, his hips rolled into you with strength, making him go deep inside of you, and your walls swallowed his cock, wetness dripping between your legs until they soaked the sheets under you.

Your fingers slid through his hair, nails lightly raking across his scalp, and the way he groaned into your mouth made you moan in return. He was losing control, unraveling with you.

His thrusts deepened, and his hand found your clit, rubbing tight, perfect circles that sent you tumbling over the edge.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips, his movements growing more desperate, more erratic. “And I’m so fucking lucky you didn’t give up on me.”

“I never would,” you panted, your nails digging into his back as he fucked you deeper, harder. “I never could.”

He shifted, adjusting your hips, grabbing one of your thighs and pulling it over his shoulder, and suddenly he hit that spot—the one that made your eyes roll back, the one that made your legs tremble violently around him.

“There?” he asked, lips ghosting your throat.

“Yes,” you cried, breath hitching.

He kept his rhythm, each thrust precise and devastating. Your moans filled the room, blending with the sound of skin on skin, the ragged pull of your breaths. The pleasure built higher, stronger, until your body was strung so tight it was hard to think.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair. “Sunghoon—please—”

“Let go,” he whispered, staring into your eyes like he could see right through you, forehead against yours, voice broken “Come for me.”

His hand slid between you, rubbing your clit fast, messy, and you cried out, clutching him tightly, your body shaking with the intensity of it, a blinding, all-consuming wave that crashed over you and didn’t let go. The orgasm hit you, and your walls clenched around him, pulling him with you, and he groaned against your shoulder as he followed you over the edge, shuddering with each deep pulse inside you.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched as your body tightened around him, and the sound of your moans, soft, breathless, utterly overwhelmed, pushed him over the edge. His hands gripped your hips, holding you flush against him as he spilled into you with a low, broken groan, the kind pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, warm seed filling you up so good. His whole body trembled with the release, muscles taut, jaw clenched, forehead still pressed to yours like he needed to feel every part of you as he unraveled.

It wasn’t just physical. It was everything he’d kept bottled up, every wall he’d built, every fear he’d buried. They all crumbled in that moment, coming out in the way he whispered your name against your skin, reverent and raw. His heartbeat thundered against yours, syncing with yours in the quiet aftermath, breathless and heavy.

He didn’t move right away. Just held you. As if he was afraid the moment would slip away, like it wasn’t real.

You brushed your hand through his damp hair, both of you still flushed and dazed, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something dangerously close to peace. Then, with a slow movement, he pulled out, and you whined softly, feeling his cum drip from your core.

But he stayed there, against your chest, just feeling your heartbeat.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, voice hoarse, like he didn’t know what to say but needed to say something.

You smiled, kissing his head.

“You mean aside from the fact that I’ve just lived every single fantasy I’ve had since I hit puberty? Yeah. I’m thriving.”

He groaned. “Gods, you really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, soft and rare, and pulled the blanket higher over your bodies.

“Remind me why I like you again?”

“Because I’m charming. And hot. And because I’m the best archer in camp.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly trying not to smile.

“Delusional.”

“Mm, and yet here we are,” you whispered, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “You, in my arms after you confessed your tragic backstory and fucked me senseless.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

And despite everything, his fears, his walls, the storm still brewing outside, Sunghoon held you close and let himself smile, because somehow, with you, the weight didn’t feel quite so heavy.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

You weren’t training today. Just watching.

You stood at the edge of the sparring circle with your chin in your hands, resting your elbows on the wooden fence, eyes fixed on him.

Sunghoon.

Your boyfriend.

The son of Zeus, war hero of camp, and, more recently, absolute heart-stealer.

He was currently fighting two Ares kids at once like it was child’s play, sword glinting in the sun, movements precise and confident, like he didn’t even have to think. His dark hair was tied up messily, loose strands falling into his eyes, his jaw locked in concentration, but he wasn’t scowling anymore. There was something lighter about him now. The storm inside him had settled, quieted.

And gods, you were staring.

Again.

Just like that day weeks ago. The same spot. The same boy.

But everything had changed.

Someone nudged your arm.

“You’ve been watching him for like… fifteen minutes straight,” one of your Apollo siblings whispered beside you.

“I’m admiring my boyfriend,” you whispered back dramatically.

“He hasn’t even looked over here—wait—nope, there he goes.”

Your heart skipped.

Because it was true.

Sunghoon had just looked up mid-swing, knocked an Ares kid flat on his ass with his sword’s blunt end, and locked eyes with you. You expected the usual eye-roll. Maybe a sigh or a sarcastic shake of his head.

But instead, he smirked.

Smirked.

And then he called out across the sparring field with his deep, rough voice loud enough for half of Camp Half-Blood to hear:

“You gonna keep staring at me like that, or are you finally gonna come over here and kiss your boyfriend?”

You blinked.

The training field went silent for like two whole seconds before everyone exploded into chaos.

Teasing whistles. “Get it, Y/N!” someone from Hermes cabin yelled. Chiron turned around so fast it looked like he was rethinking letting you both stay in camp. Your siblings screamed like they were in the stands of the Hunger Games. Even the Ares kids were impressed.

You covered your face with your hands, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Oh my gods.”

Sunghoon just stood there, smug and sweaty and stupidly hot, sword resting on his shoulder like the cocky menace he was.

And you?

You jumped the fence and ran to him.

When you crashed into his chest and kissed him, breathless, laughing, in front of everyone, he kissed you back with everything he had, arms wrapping tight around your waist, forehead pressed to yours afterward like it was just the two of you in the world.

“You’re so annoying,” you whispered, smiling.

“I learned from the best.”

“You love me.”

He looked at you like the storm had never touched him. “Yeah,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “I really do.”

So yeah, maybe your annoying crush for the forbidden son of Zeus finally, finally was reciprocated.

thank you for reading as always <3 hope you guys liked it, i didn’t proofread so sorry for the possible mistakes, i’ll fix them later !!

taglist: @gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon @cherrymaria58 @koizekomi @crysieberry @add-this-to-that @ii-mimii @luumiinaa @firstclassjaylee @elicheel @vintaegegirl @petalsofink @mariegibeau @tunafishyfishylike @kristynaaah @stercul1a

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi girlie! Can you write something about baby daddy Rafe? Set in a FWB universe and reader ends up pregnant because he loves c*ming inside her? Love your works they keep me up at night in the best way 🤭🤍

➤ w/c: 0.9k

➤ warnings: smut at the beginning, unprotected sex, fwb (kinda?)

➤ a/n: hey, love❤️ I wasn't sure whether you wanted them to end up together or not, so I made something in between. I got inspired and wrote another part for this one, which I may post later, but I'm open to changing/adding something if y'all have any ideas.

masterlist

“Rafe… we shouldn’t do this— ah, fuck, please!” You cried out, your back arching from the bed, seeking more attention from his lips to your sensitive nipples. 

“I can’t stop. It’s gonna be okay, just one time, baby.” He grumbled, sucking in your skin. Rafe was pounding into your poor body without any mercy; he was too excited to be bare inside of you for the first time. 

When you came to his place, you two quickly found out that you ran out of condoms that were usually stacked on his bedside table, but you were too far gone to stop it. You were naked, your pussy was leaking with arousal, his dick was so painfully hard and it was hard to think straight. You didn’t want to stop and Rafe managed to convince you to let him fuck you raw. 

You knew how fucking stupid you were and that he might easily get you pregnant, but at that exact moment, the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his bare cock. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. I wanna cum inside of your pretty pussy. Shit—you're squeezing me so hard, you like this idea, hm?” He kept slapping his hips against yours harder and harder, causing you to moan in despair and grip his shoulders. You tried to say no, but, in all honesty, you didn’t want to. The stretch was so delicious, and the feeling of his cock filling you completely made you feel dizzy. And having him cum inside? You could have an orgasm just thinking about it. 

No more than thirty seconds later, when you finally reached your height, his cock twitched inside and Rafe let out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard. You felt liquid warmth covering your inside and moaned, squeezing and milking everything he could have you. 

You were playing with fire and it was just a matter of time before everything would go wrong. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, you didn’t stop. Rafe was now obsessed with the feeling of being inside of you without a barrier; he could not help himself when he had you spread out in front of him, ready to be filled. 

It was the best feeling that both of you experienced, but for some reason, you didn’t even try to find another form of contraception. You should have known better. You should have insisted on protection, but there was something intoxicating about the way he took you—the way he groaned your name as he filled you up. It was reckless, dangerous, and oh-so-addictive.

So it was not that big of a surprise when, just two months later, you saw two lines on the test. 

You weren’t dating, even if it has always felt like much more than just sex, so you never expected Rafe to be happy about the possibility of having a baby. You thought he would end everything immediately and simply run away. Yet he was the complete opposite. 

During your pregnancy, Rafe never left your side and made sure to attend every medical appointment, buy every single vitamin and satisfy all of your cravings.

You wanted to eat some weird shit from the store at 2am? He brought it to you in less than twenty minutes. Your body was aching and you didn’t want to do anything? He organised a spa day for you. You had terrible mood swings and cried every ten minutes? He was patient and he did everything he could to make you feel better. 

You quickly fell into that kind of domestic routine. It was comfortable, and it felt right to have him beside you all the time. While your baby was growing inside of you, you both realised more with every passing day that the feelings that you two had were serious. Because you were on each other’s mind’s 24/7, you stayed in yours or his place all the time, and you couldn’t just keep your hands away. 

When Rafe first felt your baby kick, he was over the moon and he had the biggest smile on his face. He repeatedly kissed your belly before falling asleep with his head on your thighs and his hand on your bump. 

As soon as your little girl arrived in the world, Rafe completely fell into daddy mode. He was fussing over her, insisting on spending as much time with her as possible. He never complained when he had to change her diapers or wake up in the middle of the night because of her cries.

He is such a girl dad, and the moment she looked at him with her blue eyes, he was wrapped around her tiny finger. 

Rafe loves being a dad; he loves taking care of his girls, even if you are still not officially his. He makes sure to do everything to make you feel comfortable and give you enough rest. 

He may not be perfect in it, but he’s trying his best and he hasn’t regretted ever getting into this with you. 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Maternal Advice

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Robby x F!Reader

Summary: You're joining Robby and his colleagues for dinner and provide some love advice to the group.

Mom of the ER | The Pitt Masterlist

You sat beside Robby at the restaurant. It was a local place, similar to an Applebee's or Chili's, but more mom and pop.

You and Robby liked to frequent the place, even knowing the owners by name. It was a chill, neutral place, that closed late, which was perfect for a dinner with the day shift PTMC team.

After their shift, everyone had gone home to change and met at the restaurant. Robby still donned a hoodie, but with joggers and a t-shirt this time. You were dressed in some leggings, a t-shirt, and cardigan for the cool breeze.

Everyone sat around the large tables, eating and chatting away. You're resting your head on Robby's shoulder, listening to him chat with Heather. You knew they had dated years ago, but both have made it very clear that ship has sailed. Especially since you and Robby are married, and you were never the jealous type anyway. Heather is a great woman and friend to you and Robby.

"I just don't have time for dating. I don't know how the hell you two manage it," she says nodding to you two.

You smile at her, "It was hard in the beginning. I can admit that I was super clingy, so I had trouble adjusting at first. But I got used to it. Michael still made efforts to see me after grueling hours at work, so I knew he still wanted to be with me."

"She dealt with a lot too, cancelled dates, only being able to talk on the phone a few times over a course of a few days. I didn't make things easy, but she still stuck around," he looks fondly at you and you look at him with a matching expression.

Trinity groans, "Dating fucking sucks nowadays. Don't get me started on the apps."

Mateo chimes in, "Finding people in-person isn't any better."

"So we're all just doomed to loneliness?" Trinity scowls and takes a swig from her beer.

You hum, "Is it too cliche to say that you'll find someone someday?"

"Yes," the group replies in unison.

Frank scoffs, "I met my wife in person. Things are great. We got a kid and a dog-"

"Which you got without discussing with her first," Heather chimes in.

You grimace, "How pissed was she?"

"...very. But she caved when she saw how happy it made the kid. So...still a win?"

You and Heather give each other a look and Robby shakes his head, "You still have much to learn, Langdon," he says and then sips from his beer.

Everyone goes off into their own conversations again. Frank and Robby talk about sports and you just sit there watching everyone around the table.

Towards the end, you see Victoria, the youngest of the residents, talking with Mateo. You see she's a little frazzled, stuttering over her words as she speaks with him. You can't help but giggle, which catches the attention of Robby.

"What's funny?"

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Victoria's got a crush on Mateo."

Robby cocks a brow at you and looks in the direction of the aforementioned. He furrows his brows and you explain, "She keeps tucking her hair behind her ears, she's hanging onto his every word. She's agreeing with everything he's saying. Crush behavior."

"You never did that stuff with me," he mumbles.

"Michael, I wasn't a young twenty year old woman when we started dating. I was a seasoned veteran in the dating game by then."

Your husband chuckles, "Seasoned, huh?"

You roll your eyes, "Shut up. This isn't about me. This is about Victoria."

"Let her be. Javadi doesn't need to be coddled."

Mateo seems to say something funny because Victoria laughs, but then she makes a snort and she freezes. She quickly excuses herself and rushes to the bathroom.

"I'm gonna check on her."

"ER mom to the rescue," Robby says and you swat at his shoulder as you pass him.

When you enter the bathroom, Victoria is lightly banging her head against a bathroom stall.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

She looks at you with worry in her eyes, "Did you see that? God, that was so embarrassing!"

You chuckle, "It was cute."

She shakes her head and starts to pace, "I don't want to be considered cute. I want to be seen as serious and mature and worth dating." You can tell she's frustrated and you approach her, moving some strands of hair out of her face.

"Don't try to be someone else just so someone will like you, honey. That never goes the way that you want. It gets exhausting and you end up losing yourself in the process. If you like someone, just be yourself. And if they like you, then they like you as you are. Don't go changing yourself just because you think it's what they want."

Victoria's shoulders deflate in defeat and you sigh, "If things don't work out with Mateo, it'll be okay. It's not the end of the world. You have an entire lifetime to find someone. I mean, look at me and Robby. We found each other later in life and so unexpectedly. You'll be okay."

The young woman lets out a deep breath and nods, "Okay. Thank you, Y/N."

"Anytime."

You turn to exit, but she stops, "Wait."

"Yeah?" you answer, facing her.

"Is it..okay if I hug you?"

You softly smile at her, "Of course." She rushes forward and wraps her arms around you and you do the same to her. You squeeze her tight, "You know if you're ever having boy trouble or just wanna chat, you can text or call me."

"Really? I don't want to bother-"

"You won't. I promise. Where's your phone?" she pulls it out of her back pocket and you type in your number with your name. You hand it back to her, "There."

"Thanks," she murmurs, "You really are such a mom."

You laugh, "So I've been told. Come on," you lead her out of the bathroom and you two head back to the table.

When you settle beside Robby once more, he asks, "Everything okay?"

You nod, "Just girl talk."

"And another kid adopted into the Robby Family," Heather states with a smirk and you roll your eyes at her.

[cameronsbabydoll]

SUGAR-COATED CHAINS — CHAPTER SEVEN

WARNINGS — rafe is again very much a jerk, crying, angst, kinda a happy ish ending.

You woke up to silence.

For a second, you thought maybe Rafe was still there. That you’d find him sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you with that unreadable look, waiting for you to apologize without saying a word.

But he was gone.

The only proof he had even been there was the weight of something new on her nightstand. A sleek black box, the kind that came from somewhere expensive, somewhere you would have been giddy to receive a gift from before.

Your stomach twisted as you reached for it. Inside was a bracelet, delicate and glittering—diamonds, of course. Rafe never did anything halfway.

It was beautiful, but it was thoughtless.

You shut the box with a snap and set it aside, curling back under the blankets.

—

You ignored his texts. Then his calls.

It wasn’t an active choice at first. You just… didn’t know what to say. What could you say? Hey, it’s okay that you let them talk about me like that. It’s okay that you laughed. It’s okay that I let you make me feel stupid.

Eventually, the silence became intentional. Maybe you wanted to see if he’d chase you, if he’d care.

He didn’t.

At least not in the way you wanted him to. No messages asking if you were okay. No showing up to make things right.

Just one text: Come over.

Like nothing had happened.

You didn’t respond.

—

“You’re spiraling.”

Your best friend eyed you over the rim of her coffee cup, unimpressed, unsympathetic.

“I’m not spiraling.”

You absolutely were.

You had spent the last twenty minutes picking at the sleeve of your sweater, barely able to look up as you recounted what happened at the dinner.

The way Rafe had smirked at his friends’ comments, the way he ordered for you like usual—but instead of it feeling safe and exciting, it just felt wrong.

The way you had snuck off to the bathroom, only to hear the women whispering about you, laughing about you, like you were some silly little girl playing house with a man too big for her world.

Your friend just raised an eyebrow. “So what, are you gonna end things?”

The words felt heavy, impossible.

You shook your head. “I don’t know.”

“Babe.” A sigh. “You knew what this was.”

That stung the most.

Because you did know. You had known from the beginning that Rafe wasn’t soft, that his affection came with condescension, that every time he put his hands on you, it was more about control than love.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Your friend reached across the table, giving your hand a squeeze. “If you don’t like it, you need to leave.”

You swallowed hard, blinking down at your hands.

You could feel the words rising in your throat, the desperate, childish part of you that wanted to say, But I do like it. I just don’t like how it makes me feel.

—

You still didn’t respond to Rafe.

That night, you stayed in bed, scrolling mindlessly, half-waiting for another call, another text, something.

Instead, there was a knock at her door.

Your heart lurched. You knew who it was before you even checked the peephole.

Rafe.

Standing outside in slacks and a button-up, looking every bit the polished, untouchable man he was—so out of place against the softness of your apartment.

You hesitated before opening the door.

His eyes flicked over you, taking in your floral nightgown, the way your hair was still messy from sleep. He let out a quiet scoff, like you were something pathetic.

“Seriously?” His voice was low, unimpressed. “You’re still sulking?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Rafe just sighed, stepping inside without waiting for permission. His eyes dragged over your apartment—the pastel bedding, the stuffed animals, the Sonny Angels still neatly lined up on your dresser.

He smirked. “No wonder they think you’re a kid.”

Your stomach twisted.

You turned away, hugging yourself. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“You don’t want to do what?” Rafe scoffed.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day over that? I told you not to take it personally.”

You inhaled sharply, your throat tightening.

“I didn’t like it,” you admitted softly. “I didn’t like what they were saying.”

“They weren’t serious.” His voice was lazy, dismissive.

“You laughed.”

Rafe tensed for half a second, but it passed as quickly as it came. “Yeah? So what?”

That did it.

The tears hit all at once, spilling over before you could stop them. You clenched her fists, your breath coming short, your words tumbling out in choked little sobs.

“I don’t want to feel like this.” Your voice was small, breaking. “Like I’m stupid, or silly, or—”

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, running a hand down his face.

You knew you sounded ridiculous, knew you probably looked even worse—barefoot, in your floral nightgown, crying over nothing.

But you couldn’t stop.

Rafe let out a sharp sigh before reaching for you.

You barely had time to react before he was pulling you in, dragging you into his chest, forcing you into his arms.

You hiccupped, your breath catching as he pressed your head against his shoulder.

“Enough,” he murmured, his voice a little softer now.

You shook your head against him, your fists weakly pushing against his chest.

“I mean it,” he said, shushing you as he slid a hand into your hair. “You’re being a baby.”

You felt like a baby. Sobbing into his chest, sniffling like a child while he held you in place.

And the worst part?

It felt good.

Even though he had caused this—this awful, twisting feeling in your chest—he was the only thing that made it go away.

Rafe pulled back just enough to wipe a tear off your cheek with his thumb, sighing like you were exhausting him.

You hiccupped, still curled into his chest, your fingers weakly gripping his shirt like you weren’t ready to let him go. Like, despite everything, despite knowing better, you still wanted him close.

Rafe’s hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading lazily through your hair. “You done crying now?” His voice was quieter, almost resigned.

You sniffled, nodding against him.

“Good.” His palm slid down to your jaw, tilting your face up. “Then stop sulking and come here.”

You didn’t even think. You just let him pull you into his lap, your legs draping over his like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you belonged there.

He leaned back against the pillows, one arm around your waist, the other resting lazily on his stomach. His grip was firm—possessive, almost. Like he was letting you cling to him, but it was still on his terms.

You chewed your lip, glancing up at him hesitantly. “Can we… can we watch a movie?”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, like you were impossible. “A movie?”

You nodded, already reaching for the remote.

He groaned but didn’t argue, just adjusted you against him as you scrolled through the options.

It didn’t take long for you to settle on something pastel and silly, something familiar, something that made your stomach twist with something childish and warm.

Rafe took one look at the screen and scoffed. “A princess movie? Jesus.”

You grinned, cuddling deeper into him. “It’s a classic.”

He didn’t fight you on it. Didn’t push you away, didn’t leave like he probably should have.

He just sighed, letting his fingers drag lazily up and down your spine as the opening credits rolled.

And you?

You let yourself pretend, just for a little while, that this was enough.

[zirasposts]

So a divergent in the shen twins seperated In time au.

SY apears back To original PIDW time line just about on time for when the huan hua are about to imprison SJ... They just hapen to find SY first. They think hes shen jiu do to him you know still begin him and looking like he walked put of the peak lords closet.

So i have decided SY has the fan he exhanged with SJ In their dicaple days. Which the huan hua are going to sent to the Cang Qiong Mountain

They frame it In a way that it sounds like they found him coluding with demons on a shit ton of people are dead level Which they use to justify that yeah hes now In the water prison waiting for trial.

Yue Qingyuan Who gets the letter is not happy More like panicky screaming on the insaid. But hes gonna figure this out and save xiao jiu. He calls an emergency peak lord meeting, so just imagine his suprise when SJ walks In. Whole. Healthy. Decidedly not In huan hua custody.

Sqq of course offers some snide remark about how rude it is to stare. Yue kinda wants To cry from relief but they really should figure out what the huan hua would hope to acomplish with a stunt like this.

YQY:... During this meating this one, had wished to discuss a leatter this one recived concerning... Huan hua palace imprisoning a peak lord due to... Begin found coluding with demons

Other peak lords: looking around at epmpty seats to figure out Who the huan hua palace had taken. Some are very disapointed to see their least liked shidi still among them

Sqq knowing many of his shidi and shimeis propably whis it was him. But he himself is betting on it begin shang qinghua

So after a sufient gossip filled pause

Qqq: Well? Who is it? This one does not have all day.

YQY: the lettern i forms that they have incarcersted peak lord shen Qingqiu

Other peak lords turn to stare at sqq In shocked silence Who In turn stares at Yue Qingyuan

Sqq: excuse me?

YQY: this one can due to circustamces se that there has clearly been a... Missunderstanding. How ever they did sent along some thing with the letter.

Beast peak lord: Well what is it? This seems More like a prank In bad taste rather than anything serious

Yue Qingyuan pulls out what looks like one of sqqs fans

Yqy: this was sent along with the letter

Yqy spreads the fan open on the table revealing a blood splaterd bamboo design.

Yqy: this one had feared-

Shen Qingqiu is frozen in place he cant hear the other peak lords over the high pitch sound. Vaguelly he knows hed had snatched the fan away from the table because its close and he can see the blood tainting the fan clearly. He knows this fan, he knows it like the part of his heart that he had been Searching for so very long. He knows it like the hand that should have held on to his till the day they both met their end.

He knows the tasel he had spent sleep less nights perfecting. He knows the tiny imperfection on one of the fans wooden parts that you would't see if you didnt know it. Is there.

This was not his.

But he knew exactly whos it was.

He felt warm and cold fighting against the mess that was his mind. Warm because maybe just maybe he had finally found him. Cold because this screamed trap.

He had to... He had to get to him. His twin might be In the water prison. He had to-

He felt Mu-Qingfang snap him out from a start of a qi diviation. Mu shidi was beside him cheaking his meridians. And all the other peak lords were still looking at him.

So dispait mu shidis disaproving glare he spoke while helding his suprising life line tightly.

Sqq: this isint mine

The other lords look at him funily

Wei:why dont you return the evidence then

The tought of anyone other tha ayuan touching the fan makes his vison tint red.

Mu Qingfang: shidi-

Sqq: Well it isint youres either

Yqy: xiao-

Sqq: its a-yuans

Yqy:

Much to mu Qingfangs alarm sqq goes to stand up.

Sqq: and I am going to go get him right this second, look at it! It has his blood Who knows what theyve done to him!

Rest of the peak lords gape theve never seen their snappy shioxy to fly into a protective craze.

MQF: absolutly not you almost diviated right where you sat

Sqqs stoped listening and is looking for escape paths... The window looks very inviting.

Sqq: they have my twin

sqq turns to yqy

Sqq: and since i know for a fact that you are useless when asked to rescue someone im not even going to ask

Qqq: so sqq's got a most likely a demonic cultivator brother. Why isint that this one doesent find that suprising.

Sqqs neck snaps towards qqq and In seconds hes trying to jump over the table with nothing but his nails and teeth. He feels a pin prik on his neck.... Ahh mu shidi must have decided enough was enough.

He held on to the fan even as he slumps to uncounsiousnes.

Yqy looking at chaos as he buries his face In his hands: what a mess

[odilesgrimoire]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (end)

Midoriya is patient.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t rush. He only ever makes sure that you are comfortable.

He’s been doing that since the beginning. Since the first time he found you alone in the class, your eyes swollen from crying, forcing a smile. He never asked what happened. Never forced you to explain. He just… sat beside you, asked if you were okay.

And now, months later, when his feelings for you have deepened into something real, something undeniable, he still waits.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he tells you one day. It’s quiet, the sun setting in the distance, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. “But I also don’t want to pretend I don’t feel this way.” His hands curl into fists at his sides, then relax. “I really like you.”

Your breath catches. You knew this moment would come. You knew Midoriya had feelings for you. And you like him too. You know he’s different from Bakugo, so much different. But still…

You hesitate.

Because you remember what it was like, to love someone, to give them everything, only to receive nothing in return. You remember what it felt like to be ignored, to be led on.

And Midoriya sees the hesitation in your eyes. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t get upset. He just smiles gently.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” he says, voice soft. “Take your time. I just… I just wanted you to know.”

And so, you do.

You take your time. You allow yourself to feel, to process, to understand that Midoriya isn’t Bakugo.

And when you’re finally ready, you take his hand and hold it tight.

And Midoriya?

His whole face turns red.

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

Dating Midoriya is easy.

He’s nervous at first, always checking in, always making sure he’s not overstepping. Even something as simple as holding your hand makes him ask for permission.

When you say yes, his fingers slip between yours, warm and firm. And when you walk into the cafeteria together, hands intertwined, Midoriya looks like he might explode.

It’s cute. It makes you laugh.

But Bakugo isn’t laughing.

He’s watching from his seat, fists clenched, jaw tight. The soda can in his hand crumples under his grip, a twisted mess of aluminum.

He doesn’t like this.

As time passes, you and Midoriya grow closer.

Training together. Studying together. Laughing together. You’re happy. You’re moving on. You’re no longer waiting for someone to notice you.

But Bakugo… he notices.

And he hates it. At first, it’s just little jabs,

“Dumbass Deku, stop acting like a lovesick idiot.” “Tch. Can’t believe you’re actually dating this loser.”

You and Midoriya ignore it. There’s no point in responding.

But it doesn’t stop.

In class. In the cafeteria. During training. It gets worse.

Until, one day, Bakugo goes too far.

You’re walking past him in the hallway, Midoriya’s hand loosely holding yours, when you hear it.

“Tch. What a joke. You really think he actually likes you?”

You freeze.

Midoriya stiffens beside you. He turns, brows furrowed. “Kacchan-”

But Bakugo isn’t looking at him. His eyes are on you.

“You’re pathetic,” he sneers. “Jumping to the first guy who gives you attention. Guess it doesn’t matter who it is, huh? Even if it’s a weakling like Deku.”

Silence.

It’s sudden. Heavy. Suffocating.

Your stomach twists, your chest tightens. But you don’t say anything.

Neither does Midoriya.

But the entire class hears.

And Bakugo doesn’t stop.

“You’re desperate,” he spits. “Always clinging to someone. First me, now him. What’s next? Gonna throw yourself at Todoroki if Deku gets bored?”

The words cut deep. Not because they’re true, but because Bakugo knows exactly where to hurt you.

He knows exactly where your scars are. And he’s tearing them open.

Nobody speaks.

Not Kirishima. Not Kaminari. Not Uraraka. Not even Iida

But then-

BAM!.

The impact is sudden, brutal—a fist colliding with a jaw, the thud echoing through the hallway.

Bakugo stumbles back, eyes blown wide, hand clutching his face.

Midoriya stands in front of you, fist still clenched, body shaking.

But his voice? His voice is steady.

“You don’t get to say that,” he says, low and firm. Angry.

Bakugo snarls. “What the hell-”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Midoriya cuts him off. His green eyes are ablaze, more furious than you’ve ever seen them. “Not after everything you did.”

Bakugo’s breath catches.

Because Midoriya isn’t just saying things anymore. He knows.

He knows what happened. He knows how Bakugo let you believe you had a chance, only to throw you away.

“You knew she liked you,” Midoriya says, voice sharp as a blade. “And you led her on.”

Bakugo flinches.

“You let her think you cared.”

His hands curl into fists.

“You let her give you everything, and you gave her nothing.”

And for once, Bakugo has no comeback.

Because Midoriya isn’t wrong.

Midoriya takes a step forward.

“She moved on. She found someone who actually cares. And now you want to tear her down?”

Silence.

“You’re a coward, Kacchan.”

The words sting. You can see it in the way Bakugo’s face tenses, in the way his eyes burn with something unreadable.

And then, Midoriya turns back to you. His gaze softens instantly.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, but your hands are still shaking.

Midoriya doesn’t hesitate, he takes you, holding you tight.

Then, without another glance at Bakugo, he leads you away.

And Bakugo?

He just stands there.

Alone.

Deku didn’t just take you away, he gave you something Bakugo never could. And that’s why, in the end, Bakugo was the one who lost. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ If you enjoy my writing and wanna support me (or my milk🥛 addiction), I’m on [Ko-fi], writing and sipping milk!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Casual

warnings: best friend!jace, smut, p in v, arranged marriage with another man, cheating, fwb situation. Gif not mine (: most definitely not proofread as i wrote this at like 1 LMFAOO

A/n: Okay, so i never have written for him but my obsession is growing so… I’m straying away from rafe for a moment to try this. the got/hotd community is super good at writing, definitely a lot better than me, so… and im not super into the got/hotd lore, so i apologize if something is off 😭 im a casual watcher

♫ casual, chappell roan.

masterlist

divider below by @/plutism

He stared from afar, his eyes fixed on you and your now husband. The grip he had on his cup tightened, knuckles turning white. He tuned out the chatter of the people around him, attention solely on you.

You forced a smile when he cracked a joke, you had to hide the distaste you had when he touched your shoulder. You didn’t want to be married off to some man you barely knew, some man you didn’t love.

Your eyes traveled to your friend, his eyes staring right back at you. When Jace first found out you were marrying another, he didn’t want to believe it.

You two had this complicated relationship. You were sneaking around with the boy, hooking up, but it was all casual. That’s what you told yourself. Because you knew that it was since birth this loveless marriage had been planned.

You knew that you and Jace could never be.

“Excuse me for a moment.” You told your husband, interrupting him. His face fell, and he nodded. You smiled at the man, patting his arm and beginning to walk over to your best friend.

“Say, is Jacaerys Velaryon jealous of my husband?” You teased him, standing next to him. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course not. I’m happy for you.” He lied, an obvious one.

“Right… that’s why you’re eyeing me from across the room?” You teased, you didn’t miss the small smirk that fell on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You smiled, both of you looking at your husband now.

You commented, "He's nice, kind." you turned your head back to Jace and said, "But he's not you." Your voice was sincere, almost a whisper. His eyes searched yours, small smile still on his face.

He didn’t know how to respond, mouth going agape, he just turned back to the man who was currently getting showered in gifts, while you still looked at the man you loved.

“A small part of me always hoped it would be us.” He admitted after a moment of silence between the both of you. You raised an eyebrow, he turned to face you again.

“I know.” You nodded. “But…”

He raised his eyebrows now, curious as to what you were gonna suggest.

That’s how the both of you ended up in a room, you giggling as you shut the large doors. Your lips were on his in an instant, hands tangling into his curls.

“It’s your wedding. They’re gonna be looking for you.” He spoke when he pulled away for air, and you shrugged.

“Let them.” You murmured against his lips, both of you breathing heavily. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he smiled as he carried you over to the bed.

He gently laid you down, lips leaving yours momentarily so that he could slide his pants off. He bunched your dress up, moving it out of the way. He looked down at you, leaning down to kiss you again. Your lips were like a drug to him, always tempting him.

He lined his length up to your soaked hole, you holding him close when he slowly slid in. You bit your lip to suppress the noises you wanted to make, his large size stretching you out.

He looked down at you, your hands digging into his back, sure to leave crescent shaped marks. He let out a low groan, feeling your walls clench onto him. His eyes remained on you as he set a slow pace, you looking right back up at him with those glossed over eyes that he adored every time.

You felt every vein, every ridge and every inch against your walls. Your mouth went agape, his cock hitting your cervix. His hand went to your clit, rubbing circles onto it.

And with Jacaerys, you never lasted long. So you weren’t shocked when you already felt that knot in your stomach that had you arching off the bed for him. He smiled, kissing down your neck, and as much as he wanted to mark you up, he knew he couldn’t.

It was just another reminder of no matter how badly he wanted you, he couldn’t have you.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Mine, Always

Fandom: Women’s Basketball (WNBA) | UConn Women’s Basketball

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader, Paige Bueckers x !daughter (Lex)

Tags: Fluff, Found Family, Bio!Single Parent Reader, Adoption, Protective Paige, Deadbeat Parent Drama, Soft Domestic Moments, WNBA Life, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Depth

Summary: mama P, she’s always been mama…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @starfulani , @nooooheheheheh , @sitawita , @azziswrld

I remember the first time Paige met Alexa—my little girl, my whole world. She was six at the time, still rocking mismatched socks and an obsession with dinosaurs. I was just starting to let someone new into our lives, and Lex was always my priority. But Paige? She didn’t force herself into our little world. She let Lex warm up to her, let her be the one to decide when Paige could stay.

And once she did, there was no looking back.

Paige became her safe space. From movie nights to helping with school projects, from standing in the crowd at Lex’s soccer games to carrying her up to bed when she fell asleep on the couch—she was there. She never overstepped, never tried to replace what was never there to begin with.

By the time we got married last year, I knew what was coming next.

Lex wanted Paige to be her mama.

I sat across from Lex at our dining table one evening, watching her nervously pick at the edges of her notebook while I helped her with homework. Paige was out at practice, and the house felt quiet.

“Mom?” Lex asked, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that always made me melt.

“Yeah, baby?”

She hesitated, chewing her lip before she let out a sigh, like she had the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. “I wanna ask Paige something. But I don’t know how.”

I leaned forward, resting my chin in my palm. “Well, that depends. What’s the question?”

She fiddled with the corner of her page before finally whispering, “I want her to be my mama. For real.”

My chest squeezed. I had a feeling this was coming, but hearing it out loud? It was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I reached over, tucking her braids behind her ear. “Lex… she is your mama.”

“But, like, legally,” she clarified, her voice small but determined. “I wanna have her last name, too. Like you.”

That was it. I was done for.

I pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “She’s gonna be so happy, baby. You know how much she loves you, right?”

She nodded against my chest. “Yeah.”

I smiled. “Then just ask her. When she gets home.”

⸻

That night, Paige had barely stepped through the door, gym bag slung over her shoulder, when Lex practically ran into her.

“Whoa—what’s up, kid?” Paige laughed, steadying herself as Lex grabbed her hand.

“I have a question!” Lex announced, determined, dragging her to the couch. I followed behind, heart already full knowing what was about to happen.

Paige tossed me a playful, questioning look before sitting down. “Alright, hit me.”

Lex took a deep breath, looking Paige dead in the eye. “Can you adopt me?”

Silence.

Paige’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. For the first time since I’d met her, she was speechless. Her gaze flickered to me for a second, as if checking to see if this was real.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna,” Lex added quickly, but I could see the hope in her eyes.

Paige snapped out of it. “Are you kidding?” She pulled Lex into her lap, cradling her face. “Lex, kiddo, I’d love to. More than anything.”

Lex’s smile was blinding, and I could already see the tears forming in Paige’s eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Paige whispered, pressing her forehead to Lex’s. “I’m already your mama, but I’d be honored to make it official.”

I watched them with my heart bursting, knowing that in that moment, we were truly a family in every way that mattered.

⸻

Fast forward to now, a year later, and Lex was officially Alexa (Your Last Name)-Bueckers. The paperwork was done, the name change finalized, and she couldn’t stop beaming when she saw it printed on her new school ID.

Everything was perfect—until Lex’s biological father, the one who had never been there, decided to crawl out of whatever hole he’d been in for the past decade.

And it all started with Paige’s radio interview.

Paige had just finished practice when she called me. “Babe,” she started, a little breathless, “I might’ve said something on the radio that’ll make headlines.”

I sighed, setting my phone between my ear and shoulder as I stirred dinner. “What’d you do now, Bueckers?”

“Well, the host asked about Lex,” she admitted. “And I kinda��� called her my daughter. Like, really emphasized it.”

My stirring stopped. “Okay?”

Paige huffed. “I mean, I meant it, obviously. But I think it’s gonna be everywhere.”

I smiled. “Good. Let people know.”

That was the thing about Paige. She never saw Lex as anything less than hers. Not a stepdaughter, not just my kid—her kid.

The interview clip spread fast. In it, the host asked Paige what it was like being a WNBA player and a parent.

Paige, without missing a beat, said, “It’s the best thing in my life. I know she’s not biologically mine, but that doesn’t mean anything. Lex is my daughter. No paperwork or last name change will ever mean as much as what I already know in my heart—she’s mine.”

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

And it must’ve pissed off Lex’s deadbeat father, because suddenly, he was trying to be relevant again.

⸻

He messaged me the next day.

“So I just heard my daughter got adopted. Funny how no one told me.”

I stared at my phone, a bitter laugh escaping. Now he cared?

I typed back.

“She’s not your daughter. You didn’t even sign her birth certificate.”

He shot back.

“That doesn’t mean anything. You had no right.”

That was all it took. I went into my files and pulled up every receipt—missed child support payments, medical bills I paid alone, birthdays he skipped, the list went on.

I sent it all in one long, damning message.

“You haven’t been in her life for a single second. You don’t get to be mad now just because a real parent stepped up where you never did. If you cared, you would’ve acted like it years ago.”

He left me on read.

Exactly.

⸻

When I told Paige about it that night, she scoffed. “He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I know, but I just hate that he’s even trying.”

Paige pulled me onto the couch, wrapping an arm around me. “He can try all he wants. It doesn’t change a thing.”

Lex popped her head into the room. “What doesn’t change a thing?”

Paige patted the seat between us, and Lex climbed up, curling into her side.

Paige kissed the top of her head. “That you’re my daughter. No matter what.”

Lex smiled, tucking into Paige’s shoulder. “I know that.”

I exchanged a look with Paige, and in that moment, I knew we’d won.

Not in a petty way—this was never about proving anything to a man who was never there.

It was about us.

Our family.

And nothing, no amount of bitterness or late attempts at relevance, could ever change that.

She was ours. Always.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[marvelwitchergilmore]

His Reason

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and Bucky are seemingly a recipe for disaster. But after a mission goes awry, things begin to change.

Disclaimer: Kinda enemies-to-lovers, fluff, angst, Bucky helps clean your wounds, Bucky on his knees for you. Descriptions/mentions of blood and death. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t they know putting us together is a recipe for disaster?”

Bucky shrugged and threw another pack into the ket. “Apparently, they don’t care. They need people to take the mission and the only two people trained well enough and available are…us.”

You stared at him in disbelief. It wasn’t like it was some massive secret you were both keeping. It was just simple. You and Bucky didn’t work well together. You never had done. Probably because you never got along away from work, either. 

You and Sam, Sam and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, Steve and you. You all got along just fine. But you and Bucky? No. Like you said, it was a recipe for disaster. 

“Pack your stuff. We’re leaving in five.”

You didn’t exactly have much time to grumble. The mission needed to be done. A mission that qualified under both of your job titles. 

Maybe you should have taken Sam up on his offer to take a break. 

The jet ride was silent between both of you the entire way there. You prepared and unprepared the medical kits three times over. You packed, unpacked and repacked your overnight bag. You knew what was in it already, even though you knew you’d never used it. Everything was still fresh. 

“Would you quit doing that?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“If I hear another zip, I’m gonna zip you in one of them.” Bucky grumbled as he flicked a button on the control panel. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. You ignored his threat and continued what you were doing. You already knew the mission brief like the back of your hand. You had done for years. 

After the third long zip, Bucky placed the jet on autopilot for the rest of the way. He didn’t exactly make his movements subtle as he threw himself from the pilot chair and made his way over to you. 

Taking the bag from you, he zipped it closed and threw it onto the ground. It landed with a thud. 

“Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re being annoying.”

“I’m just being cautious.”

Bucky just tilted his head. “There’s being cautious, then there’s being this.”

Leaning your hands against the table in front of you, you looked up at him. “And what is so wrong with this?”

“Nothing. When a normal person is doing it.” Bucky just leaned down and picked up the bag before turning to put it back in its original place, where you’d found it. 

“I am a normal person.”

Bucky chuckled as he stuffed it back into place. “Oh, sweetheart. You are far from normal.” Turning around to you, the flirty edge to his voice was gone and replaced with his usual demeanour towards you; bluntness. “We both are.”

You watched as he walked away and back to the front of the jet. You cussed at yourself for checking out his ass as he did so. But you followed him anyway, sitting in the second seat, right beside him. 

“Get your seatbelt on. We should be landing soon.”

You grumbled but followed his instructions anyway. Part of you might have nearly killed him once, and maybe it still did – just under different circumstances. But safety first. 

The mission ran as smoothly as it would be trying to have a bull ballet dance through a china shop. But you both got out of there alive. 

Barely.

Bucky watched as you stood in front of the mirror on the jet. It was set up just between the array of weapons. Your tactical vest was long gone, however the holster around your thigh still remained. Whilst Bucky had been forced to take on Kate Bishop's advice at adding a little colour into his uniform – the furthest he went was dark blue. 

You remained in black. Black t-shirt, black tactical trousers, boots. With the addition of red blood seeping from your wound. 

You had to peel your t-shirt from your wound. There was just a little too much blood for your liking. It didn’t help that your adrenaline was starting to slow down, leaving you with a wave of shakes to deal with. They were mostly focused on your legs which wasn’t helping your case in trying to stand and look in the mirror. 

“C’mere.” 

You turned for a split second, realising Bucky was walking to you. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Give it.”

“No.”

“Y/n.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Bucky stood a little taller. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Y/n, you’re bleeding out. Literally.”

You ignored him. “I’m dealing with it.”

Bucky watched as you hissed and closed your eyes, looking away from the wound you were trying to clean. His voice fell softer and he held his hand out. “Just let me help.”

Bucky tried to ignore the feeling he got in his chest when you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. He could see the colour of your eyes so clearly, as well as the pain you’d probably mask once you’d both touched ground back at the compound. 

Finally, you let that barricade down. Just long enough to accept his help. 

Handing the cloth over to him, he gently moved you until you were leaning against the weapons table top. You needed to stand in order for him to clean it properly. 

Then he dropped onto one knee. 

You hissed, “Take it easy. Please.”

“I’m trying.”

He carefully dabbed at the wound, before reaching behind you for the medical box. “I want you to go to Cho when we get back.”

“I-”

“Don’t you dare say you’ll be fine. You’re going.” Bucky looked away from your gaze and back at your wound. “We both are. Besides,” Bucky’s hand held you firmly on the back of your thigh. “You’ve not stopped shaking.”

“That’s normal.”

“Maybe,” Bucky shrugged. “But you’re still going.”

Any other time, you would have fought him on it more. But you didn’t have the energy to. 

Once he’d covered up your wound, he looked around your body before his blue gaze locked onto your eyes. “Anywhere else?”

“I don’t know.” You answered truthfully. Your body was too sore and too tired to move. The adrenaline was slowly wearing off and sleep was in desperate need to take over. 

Bucky’s fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. He’d seen you get hit multiple times, so it was probably a safe bet you did have other wounds that needed tending to. 

“Can I?”

For the first time in your life, you didn’t fight him on it. You didn’t even speak. Just helped him but gave up halfway through. 

He stood, helping you remove your shirt. He made a mental list; a little of bruises, blood stains but only a few were your own, and one slice right across your collarbone. 

“I’m gonna need to clean that before you get an infection.”

You tried your hardest to ignore how intimate it felt having Bucky lower the strap of your sports bra in order to get a clearer look at your wound. 

His gaze locked onto yours but unlike the usual bluntness, there was a softness there. “This is gonna hurt, but it should only last a few seconds.”

You didn’t break eye contact as you nodded. But you closed your eyes when the stinging began. You leaned into Bucky’s arm, your own fingers wrapping around his arm. “I’m sorry.”

It was the first time you’d heard those words sound genuine coming out of Bucky’s mouth. 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Once more, he cleaned your wound in silence. But once he was done, he took a look at your t-shirt. You couldn’t put that back on. Even if it was black, the weight of it alone would be too much for your body to carry after the day you’d both had. 

It was blood soaked. 

Bucky walked away for a moment before zipping something open and returning. “Lift your arms.”

You did so, feeling a soft cotton t-shirt float over your body. As you looked down at it on your body, you felt Bucky’s hand push your fallen hair from your face and you looked up at him. 

“Whose is this?”

“Mine,” he told you. “Tired?”

You nodded. “Exhausted.”

“Do you trust me?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve got a loaded pistol strapped to my thigh, if I don’t.”

It was a rare moment that followed. Bucky smiled. Just for a flash, just an instant. A breathy, genuine smile. His fingers were still in your hair. 

“Understood.” Then he took your hand. “Come with me.”

With your hand still in his, you stood beside him as he pulled out one of the benches on the jet and it folded out into a bed. It wasn’t a comfortable and homely bed or anything. But it was somewhere you’d be able to sleep. 

“We won’t be back for a few hours. You should get some sleep.”

You nodded. Bucky just helped you onto the bed before covering you up with one of the Shield assigned blankets. With one final brush of his hand on top of your head, he turned away. 

“Bucky?”

He turned back. 

“Thank you.”

Again, he smiled. Just a little. A ghost of his previous one. “Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember closing your eyes. You just remember waking up warm. Beside you, Bucky was lying on his back, an arm under his head as well as the pillow. His breathing was even and you were holding onto his other arm that had somehow made it around your back and waist. 

Meanwhile, your other hand lay just over his heart. 

You could feel his heartbeat. Steady. Calm. 

Another time, you would have probably hit him in the chest to wake him up. You would have crawled away from the bed and gone to check how far away home was. You would have never thought about waking up beside him, ever again. 

But something was different. 

Seeing his smile. Feeling his heartbeat. 

Something was different. 

So, you didn’t wake him. Instead, you leaned closer into him and smiled as you felt his arm and his hand tighten their grip around you for a moment before relaxing once more. And you fell back to sleep. 

The next time you woke up, you were in your own bed. 

Alone. 

And it hurt. 

As you sat up, you found yourself in different clothes. Less sore, more bandaged. But one thing was still the same. 

You were in Bucky’s t-shirt. 

Slowly moving, you pulled yourself from your bed and looked out of your window. It was still morning. Forgetting your slippers, you made your way out of your room and down the hall into the kitchen. 

Everyone was out. 

All except one. 

“Morning.”

You looked over and saw Bucky. Grey sweats and a henley. 

“Morning,” you replied. “How did I-”

“You were fast asleep by the time we landed so I took you straight to Cho. Your wound had opened up and I didn’t want you bleeding out.” Bucky explained. “Your levels were too high so she sedated you. Once everything was okay, Cho thought it might be better for you to wake up in your own bed rather than a hospital one.”

“So you…”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I carried you to bed.”

You looked around, a little confused. If another version of you walked through the door, they’d be asking where your holster went and if Bucky had taken proper care of it. But instead you simply said, “Thank you.”

“We only landed back yesterday morning so you’ve not missed much. Want something to eat?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

Bucky stood. “I’ll make you something to eat. Sit down. Want some coffee?”

“Please.”

Bucky had a coffee cup in front of you a few seconds later. Then he started whipping up breakfast. 

“Are you okay?”

Bucky looked over his shoulder at you. “I didn’t get hit if that’s what you’re asking.”

You nodded. 

“Cho gave me the all clear.”

You nodded, sipping your coffee. “Good.”

For the next three days, you couldn’t shake the disappointment you felt each time you woke up alone. Rather than beside Bucky. 

You hated it. 

You used to hate him. 

Strongly dislike. 

You and Bucky never got along. You were more likely to fight him than you were to want to…wake up beside him. Then, one day, you stopped fighting him. And he stopped fighting you. 

It was the weirdest thing. 

And you enjoyed it. 

Which you hated. 

“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” You heard Kate ask you as you emptied your clip. 

Locking the safety on your gun before you threw it down, you tore the headphones from your ears and sighed. 

“I don’t know.”

“You like each other now?”

“Apparently.”

“When did that happen?”

The target came flying at you. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You tore the paper from the poster and stuck a new one up. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

The target went flying back and you loaded another clip before emptying it onto the paper. Kate stood beside you as the paper came flying back. 

“We’re gonna need pizza.”

Thirty minutes later, you were sitting in her apartment with two pizzas on the coffee table. 

“And he was just there?”

You nodded. “He was just lay there, asleep, looking far too fucking handsome for me to hate his guts. And when he touched me…”

Kate tried her best to hide her smile. “You liked it?”

You just flopped back into the sofa cushions. “I didn’t want him to let me go.”

Kate stopped trying to hide her smile. “This is amazing.”

“It’s terrible.”

“It’s a recipe for love!”

You shook your head. “It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Kate sat back. “Okay. If this is just because you two nearly killed each other in your previous lives, then that is complete bull. That is in the past. And, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve thought he’s handsome.”

You just glared at Kate. The memory of coming across some old Shield photographs and spotting a very handsome 40s soldier flashed across your mind, Kate’s voice echoing that the guy you said you’d marry if you were back in the 40s was actually Bucky. 

“And it’s not like you’ve not checked him out before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kate just tilted her head. “Well, you’re not exactly subtle.”

“Kate.”

“Relax. The others don’t know. But I know you. So I know. I think you should talk to him.”

You sat up. “Absolutely not.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Didn’t you just hear me? Me and Bucky…we’re a recipe for a disaster. It can only end in tragedy. If I talk to him about this…” 

You didn’t even want to think about what would come after that. Eternal regret, shame, fear, humiliation. 

Kate took your hand. “Hey. You don’t have to do anything now. But if you do have feelings for him, you’re gonna have to deal with them eventually.”

You sighed. “I know. I know.”

A year later, you still hadn’t dealt with them. At first you thought maybe it was some kind of ‘soldier, nurse’ thing. Like how soldiers fell in love with their nurses because they’d helped them get back to normal health. 

But then the statutes of limitations ran out. And it only got worse. He was in your head all the damn time. Everytime you fell asleep, his memory was there. His voice was the first thing you heard in the morning. And when movie nights took place and Kate somehow worked it so the only available seat for you was beside Bucky, you were asleep almost instantly. 

Once his arm was behind you on the sofa and he moved you to lean against him, his excuse being to get you to stop wriggling, your entire body relaxed. 

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

You could hear the smile on his face, “Good.”

Halfway through the movie, his arm would drop from the back of the sofa to being around you, his fingers dancing up and down your arm absentmindedly. 

When you were asleep, and the movie had ended, Bucky wordlessly pulled the blanket he’d covered you with, away. Then he picked you up and carried you to bed. 

His presence being the last thing you felt before sinking into your bed wasn’t helping your feelings any. 

But it didn’t matter. 

Because almost eighteen months on from that day when you’d woken up laying beside him, he got hurt. 

A mission had gone sideways. Too far sideways. Like, drop off the edge of the world sideways. And Bucky was in trouble. You’d put a call into Shuri. They had everything waiting to help him once the jet landed. 

You stayed by his bedside for three days whilst he healed. 

“Has she slept at all?” Steve asked Shuri as they stood outside of the medical room. 

“A little, but not enough to be considered okay.” Shuri said. “She loves him, doesn’t she?”

Steve took a moment before nodding. “Secret is, he loves her, too. But their history…”

“I know the White Wolf’s history. I know little of her though.”

Steve took in a breath and walked away with Shuri as he explained. “They’ve met before. Years before I found him. The Winter Soldier programme had been a part of her training. A ghost she could barely remember. But then, after she joined Shield-”

“Agent Barton?”

Steve chuckled. “He kinda has a reputation for picking up agents from the other side. But, yeah. After she joined Shield, they met again. Hand to hand combat. They both walked away bleeding. Once Bucky was himself again, with their history and personalities they never really clicked. Until about a year and a half ago when I watched Bucky be in the same position as Y/n today.”

“He didn’t leave her side?”

Steve shook his head. “Not until he was ordered to by Doctor Cho. But even then, he watched out for her overnight. Has barely left her side since.”

Shuri nodded. “I’ll try and get her to sleep.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

A few hours later, Shuri walked inside. You had the times Bucky was due for a check up memorised. 

“Is everything okay?”

“With Bucky, yes. He’s gonna be just fine. I’m here about you. Come with me.”

You looked back at Bucky. You were still holding his hand. 

“He’ll be okay. He’s sleeping. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you followed Shuri. She took you to a bathroom where you could get a warm shower before she showed you the clothes Steve had brought with him. Your clothes, which also happened to include the t-shirt Bucky had placed on you. Freshly washed and still warm. 

“Once you’re dressed, sleep. He would want to make sure you’re okay, too.”

You nodded, understanding what she was saying. 

After your shower, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. But you weren’t asleep for very long. As the moon had settled itself high with the stars, you walked yourself back to Bucky’s medical room. 

Where you found the Queen sat by his side. 

You bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“It is alright. Come in. Close the door.”

You did so before slowly walking to the other side of his bed and sitting down. 

“He’s okay,” the Queen smiled. “That t-shirt?”

You looked down and smiled, clutching the hem. “Yeah, it’s..it’s his.”

“You care for him.”

You shrugged. “He’s my friend.”

“You love him.”

You faltered. “I-”

The Queen chuckled. “It’ll be our secret. Though, if you wish for it to remain that way, I suggest you get better at hiding your feelings.”

You chuckled a little. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to?”

You grimaced. “I…it’s not like I don’t…I don’t know anymore. All I know is one day I went from him being the last person I wanted to be around, to suddenly being…the only one.”

The Queen just smiled at you, but you didn’t fully notice because your gaze was focused on Bucky. Fast asleep, mending and looking far too handsome whilst doing it. 

“If you want my advice, tell him. Life is far too short to waste time. Look at him. Sergeant Barnes might be a soldier out of time, but he's not immortal. And neither are you. My advice is just do it.”

Kate would be fainting with excitement knowing the Queen of Wakanda was giving you the same advice she had given you. 

Taking one final look at Bucky, the Queen excused herself. But not before stopping by the door to say, “History is in the past. You’d both make a lovely couple. Welcome back, White Wolf.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash. Bucky was awake. He gave a tired smile to the Queen before looking at you. 

“Hey, sweetheart,”

You stood up and sat beside him on the bed, hugging him. A soft chuckle came from his chest. “Take it easy. I might start thinking you missed me.”

You leaned back. “You almost died, Bucky.”

“But you saved me.”

“Shuri saved me.”

Bucky smiled. “And who called her? You saved me, sweetheart.”

“I should go and find-”

Bucky held onto your hand. A motion you hadn’t been used to since, for the last three days, you’d been holding his hand as he lay still. “Don’t. Just…stay here. Someone will come soon. I just…” Bucky finally breathed. “I just want to be with you for a while.”

“You really scared me.”

Bucky nodded. “I know.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Bucky chuckled. “You have my word.”

A few moments of silence settled over you both as you looked at each other. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Bucky slowly lifted his hand until he was cupping your cheek. “Lucky for me, I had someone to get back to.”

A smile broke out on your face after a moment. Bucky was alive. Better yet, he’d come back for you. 

“Considering I almost lost my life, please tell me I don’t have to wait any longer to kiss you. I know we didn’t get the most normal start but-”

You cut him off with a searing kiss. You could feel his hand at the back of your head, holding you closer. 

“Aren’t you the one always saying we’re far from normal?” You asked, breathless as the kiss broke apart for a moment. 

“Being normal is overrated.”

Bucky kissed you again like you were his lifeline. His reason for breathing. And, in a way, you were. He’d had feelings for you for a long time. And, although the list of important reasons had been shortening over the last couple of years, there was one reason that remained. 

You. 

You were his reason to come back. 

You always would be. 

[old-op-81-lvr]

Home ~ MV33

Max Verstappen x Male!Military!reader

Summary: Max had been attending races with his daughter alone, people begin to wonder what happened to his husband. Until you show up to Vegas that is.

A/N: Me taking less than a week to write a fic? Crazy right?

A/N2: This was started before this mornings announcement, i’m still deciding whether or not to keep writing for Max.

Tagging: One mention of feeling sick, deployment (nothing graphic), Author keeps getting military reunion videos of their FYP, Toddler tantrum, This is real short and real low quality, Reader is implied to be an American citizen, media harrassment

June 2023

Max felt sick as soon as he seen the letter come through the post in the morning. That stupid emblem that you devoted your life to every time you left.

He considered putting it back in its place, pretending he hadn’t checked the post. He didn’t want to be the one to give you the potentially awful news that could be in that envelope. But he couldn’t do that, not when he knew it was there.

So, he ventured up to the nursery where you were sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room bottle-feeding your 8 month old. You looked so happy, Max almost didn’t want to tell you. However he had to.

“(Y/N)” He said, catching your attention and holding the letter up. You went from smiling down at your giggling baby to your face dropping instantly. You wished you never had looked up.

“Oh- Swap with me” You said, handing Max Vanessa and then slipping the letter from his hand. You began opening the letter, eyes skimming the words until you said you had to go make a phone call and left the room.

~

You tried to call anyone you could, Commanding officers, people of your rank, people much higher up but there was no way out of it, you were still in reserve and they needed you.

If wasn’t as if Max hadn’t expected it. He had uprooted his entire life to move to the country you served just so you didn’t have to leave all the time. You both knew this could happen before you got married.

Thats how you ended up at the airport 2 weeks later in your uniform, a fresh haircut and face shave done, with your bags with you. Random on lookers glaring at you with pity on their faces.

“I’m gonna miss you, little one” You said, holding the baby up and kissing her head gently. “You’re gonna be so big when I get back” You whispered gently against her skin.

“And I think I might miss you too” You said, kissing your husband and handing the baby back. “I love you both so much, I wish you luck on every race i’m gonna miss” You said before picking up your stuff and walking away before you sobbed in front of a packed airport.

Max and Vanessa were papped leaving the airport, nobody knew about you at this time. Just the baby. So it left people wondering why Max Verstappen was leaving the airport crying with no bags.

~

23rd November 2024 - Las Vegas

“Ness, please just put the sock on” Max pleaded, crouching on the floor by his hotel bed with a sock held in his hand. He was currently wrestling with your 2 year old to get her dressed for the Vegas GP. It was highly likely she would sleep through it but Max still had to get her dressed.

“No!” The little girl whined, kicking her feet trying to push Max away.

“Okay” Max sighed “What about these tights?” Max asked, holding up the pair of tights from his suitcase that would go with her dress instead.

“Yeah” Vanessa said sadly, wiping the meaningless tears she had said. God Max loved his toddler but man was she stressful work.

“Okay, tights it is” He said sighing as he pulled the pink and white polka dot tights up her legs.

Max had pulled her pretty blonde ringlets into a bow at the back of her head and they were ready to go.

~

Max had managed to get Vanessa into her car seat without anymore tears than necessary. She was sat in her car seat with her giraffe stuffie that you had sent over.

“You excited to see papa win hm?” He said, looking in his mirror as he looked at his daughter in the backseat of his car.

“Yayyy papa win” the little girl said, throwing both her arms and her stuffed giraffe into the air in excitement.

The car got a little silent after that, she was dozing off for a mid-day nap to keep her going until a but later. Then you called, great, now Ness wouldn’t nap. As much as he loved you, you had awful timing when calling him. He answered using the button on the steering wheel.

“Hey, Liefje, I’m in the car with Ness. We’re on the way to the track.” Max answered, a somewhat monotone voice. He wouldn’t give an emotion until you expressed the nature of your call. Not after answering a bit too enthusiastically one too many times.

“Hi Darling, Hi Ness!” You said happily down the phone. Good, happy call. It also sounded quiet where you were, that usually meant downtime. Wherever you were.

“Hi daddy!” A now very excitable Vanessa screeched from the back seat.

“Hi baby, I was just calling to wish papa luck for his big race. So good luck, Max. I’ll try and speak to you a bit later okay? I just want to make sure I caught you before you got busy.” You said Lazily, you sounded relaxed. More relaxed than you had sounded on the phone is ages.

“Okay, (Y/N). I’ll call you later. Vanessa say bye bye to Dad” Max said, looking in the mirror to see if he still had her attention.

“Bye Daddy” She said blowing kisses to the phone even though you couldn’t see. She didn’t really get the difference between a Facetime and a call.

“Bye Ness, Bye Max” You said before promptly hanging up the phone.

~

F1PaddockUpdts

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

F1PaddockUpdts Max Verstappen arrives at the paddock with his daughter. Still no partner.

user1 Are we STILL on this, Max himself has come out and said he and his partner are totally fine. They’re just busy.

user2 yeah but busy every weekend for almost 2 years is absolutely wild, I mean come on 🙄

user3 Max is better than me bc if my partner refused to attend one race in TWO seasons I would be saying something

user4 Y’all lack any sense of privacy. Its wild

~

Max came back to Red Bull to get his stuff and his daughter. He slid into his drivers room. He was sweaty, tired and wanted a nap but he needed to get Vanessa first. What Max didn’t know is that you followed him and he hadn’t noticed.

Max bent down to pick a very excitable daughter up and give her attention.

“Daddy back!” Vanessa exclaims excitedly as she wiggles in Max’s grasp, patting his shoulder excitedly.

“Yeah, i’m back. I won the championship” Max said, still not turning around to look over his shoulder. Assuming his daughter was talking to him.

“Noooo, you’re papa, not daddy” Venessa said with a cheeky grin on her face. She was pointing behind Max and he still thought nothing of it.

“Ness, I don’t understan-“ Max began before he was rudely interrupted by his daughter

“Papa, down” Vanessa demanded, wriggling her little legs as Max put her down in-front of him. She instantly ran into the space behind Max and his eyes followed. Then he seen what she meant.

You. Sat on the floor squeezing your baby tightly. Your bags at your side and a RedBull social media admin filming the whole thing. You hadn’t even changed properly, Camo trousers and a plain white t-shirt with your dog tags sat on your neck.

“See Papa, Daddy!” Vanessa half-yelled, muffled by your shoulder as you held her tight.

“Daddy” Max repeated just looking at you, it had been 16 months since he last seen you. Except the odd FaceTime on the odd occasions you had schedules that over lapped. “When did you get here?” He asked.

“I watched the race, now come here” You said from your position on the floor, beckoning max down to you. He did as he was told as you scooped him up in your other arm. “I am so proud of you, Baby. 4 championships, 4” You stated again. Kissing his hairline gently.

“Eww, kissing” Vanessa piped up.

“Ohh, is that how it is huh? No more bedtime kisses for you then” You said, lifting her up and moving her so she was sat between you and Max.

The RedBull admin had left, having got they footage they wanted and took the hint to leave.

“Noooo, I get kisses because i’m still little” She said, looking up at you “You don’t need kisses ‘cause you’re too big”

“I don’t think thats how it works Ness. You don’t get too big for kisses” You said as she still clung to you for dear life. You were surprised she even wanted to approach you since you hadn’t been with her since she was about 8 months old but apparently Max had made it a point to make sure she still knew who you were.

“And anyway I have been away for so long, I think I deserve to give my family kisses, dontcha think?” You said, attacking Vanessa with kisses and she started giggling loudly.

“Great, you come back and wind her up and now she won’t sleep tonight” Max half whined.

“Oh as if you had plans on sleeping tonight” You teased, rolling your eyes and kissing your husband properly this time

~

redbullracing uploaded a Reel

Caption: I always cry at reunions 🥹

user5 “See Papa, Daddy!” SOBBING, SCREAMING, HYSTERICAL.

user6 MILITARY-WIFE MAX VERSTAPPEN?!

user7 Y’all are fuh-reaks, this is so cute and THIS is your first thought?

user8 You weirdos owe Max an apology now we know where his partner was

maxverstappen1 Best surprise ever tbh

yourusername You’re welcome 🥳

[dollfacefantasy]

34 + 35 ♡

older bf!toji fushiguro x fem!reader

you tell toji you can handle a 69, and he wants you to prove it to him.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, 69ing, oral sex, daddy kink, overstimulation, light praise/degradation

“Get to it, doll. You said you could do it,” your boyfriend teases from beneath you.

Toji’s hand meets your ass hard, a clear smack ringing throughout the room. You nearly topple over onto him from the jolt but stabilize yourself before you crash. Your hands grab onto his hips as you glance down at his toned body.

It’s where you were heading anyways, so you relax your arms and lower yourself. Your abdomen rests flush against his. Your face hovers a few inches from his cock. It was already hard, the tip an even brighter red against the pale skin of his pelvis. It’d been in your mouth before countless times, but never while he also had his face buried between your legs.

“C’mon. You wanted a proper 69, didn’t ya? Gotta put it in your mouth then, sweet thing,” he coos.

His own hands currently ghosted up and down the back of your thighs, leaving chills in their wake. He teasingly nips and kisses at the skin leading up to your center. Your anticipation builds, and you know you do in fact need to get to it. It was your idea after all. He’d just gotten back from a bounty, one he actually collected successfully. He was in a better mood than normal, just wanted you to sit on his face as a treat.

You couldn’t just be happy with that generous offer. Too many comments about how hard he was ended up with the two of you debating whether or not you could handle 69ing. You knew you couldn’t. You went dumb with his cock in your mouth while on your knees with nothing distracting you. But you couldn't just let him be right all the time, that was no fun.

Now you’re here though. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock tentatively as you spit a decent amount of saliva onto the head. You watch it dribble down the veiny shaft. It takes a little to go down the full length to your fingers, but as soon as it does, you start stroking. Up and down, your hand squeezes gently as you get his dick slippery.

“Daddy’s not gonna start till I feel those pretty lips wrapped around me,” he whispers, his way of saying stop wasting time while in a good mood.

Parting your lips, you take it just like he taught you to. Just like he likes it. You suckle the tip deeper and bob your head, swirling your tongue and flicking it against the little ridge. His chest deflates under you as he lets out a pleasured sigh.

It doesn’t take him long to return the favor though. His tongue darts out and laps at your clit. His large hands hold your hips firmly in place. There was no squirming away from this. Each breath gave him a hit of your heady scent. 

For him, this was heaven. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried this with you sooner. He got to have that precious little mouth on his cock while devouring his baby like she was the finest meal on earth.

You, on the other hand, weren’t faring as well. You were already shuddering from the sensations. Each stripe he licked over your cunt, each swipe against your swollen bud made you whine and just wanna melt on top of him.

You keep trying though. You suck more of him into your mouth, stroking the part of him you aren’t ready for yet. Spit leaks from your mouth and coats even more of his length which pulses in your mouth. The weight of it on your tongue has your mind beginning to swirl. Precum oozes from the head and coats your tongue.

“Daddy…” you whine, but it comes out garbled because of the dick in your mouth.

He chuckles and gives you another nice slap on the ass. “That’s right, baby. You’re takin’ daddy so good, makin’ me proud,” he mutters into your pussy.

He holds you down tighter, pressing your cunt right up close to his face. His tongue laves at your sensitive bundle of nerves, twirling around it, teasing it with tiny flitting motions and then overwhelming you with a harsh suck. Your whimpers get louder while your hand slows down on his cock.

You gotta make him proud though. You force yourself to take more, lodging him as far in your throat as you can get him. He hears the little gag that comes from you as you try to get your mouth all the way around his shaft. His lips morph into a smirk against your center. He continues making out with your cunt like he’s trying to take in every last drop of you.

As he gets sloppier, going from precise and calculated to messy and open-mouthed, you start to lose it a bit. Your hands shake, and you have to grip his hips to keep yourself somewhat steady. You keep sucking his cock, hollowing your cheeks and rhythmically rising and falling. More needy whimpers fall from your lips. You try to rock your hips, but he’s got a good grip on ‘em.

“It's getting harder, isn’t it baby?” he taunts. His hand slithers between your legs to rub at your puffy clit a little bit, drawing an even louder noise from you. “Now you’re seeing why daddy just wanted to play with you first.”

“I- I’m fine…” you stammer out. It’s an obvious lie, but you try to maintain the facade.

“You are? Still wanna act like a big girl, huh?” he teases.

His mouth takes over again. You’re left shivering with your eyes screwed shut. You inhale sharply before trying to return to your task. You go back to stroking him. Your hand twists as it goes, brushing over the head and smearing the sticky, white droplets over the length.

But as soon as his hand comes back and pinches your clit, you squeal and your efforts fail. Your head drops to his pelvis where your cheek squishes against his warm skin. He only wishes he could see your face because he knows the way your lips are puffing out into that cute pout. Your hips rut on instinct, and he has to lock them in place with a tighter hold.

“Stay still, babydoll. Seems like you’re getting a little distracted,” he murmurs before reattaching his lips to your pussy.

You moan loudly but scoot your head a little closer. 

“I’m not, daddy,” you whimper. Your tongue sticks out to lap at his balls. You suckle one into your mouth, but all he does is laugh.

He nuzzles further between your legs, speeding up the motions of his tongue. Your legs start to quiver and tense up. They close around his head, and he knows what’s coming.

“Let it out,” he grunts.

Your back arches and your nails dig into his flesh. You take your mouth off him all together and turn your head against his thigh to hide the expressions your features scrunch into. You groan against him, your hips bucking and jerking with each wave of euphoria. 

He lets you ride it out, but once you come down, he doesn’t stop. You claw at his legs, trying to crawl away and seek refuge between his huge thighs. He pulls you back into place though and kneads your ass cheeks soothingly.

“Not gonna happen, little girl. Not letting you go until you get me to cum at least once,” he says. With that, he’s back to using his mouth for more important things.

“Daddy!” you whine. Normally, that would be easy, but you couldn’t even do it the first time around and now you had overstimulation frying your nerves.

He’s loud between your thighs, wet, sensual noises echoing from the top of the bed where his head rests. You try to match and slurp around his shaft, but it’s difficult when you’re so shaky and it feels like your insides are melting.

You’re so whiny too. Your head drops back to its place next to his dick as you lazily jerk him off.

He keeps going and brings you to another high minutes later. You mewl even louder for him and drop his cock, letting it fall against your face and rest on your cheek. Your eyes flutter as the ecstasy takes over for a moment.

“Not so easy is it, baby?” he croons, “It’s so much easier just letting daddy take care of you, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a dizzy nod.

He places a tender kiss on your clit and chuckles as he sees you clench around nothing. This time he does give you a small break. You both knew he could reduce you to a puddle of sobs and moans if he so desired, but he wanted to give you a little chance.

And you don’t take it for granted. You lift your head again. Your cheek feels numb from being pressed to his hip for a while. As the blood circulates through it again, you return your lips to the tip of his cock. You spit down on it for the second time tonight and take it into the warm embrace of your mouth.

Your sucking starts off languid. He was still lapping at your cunt, but not with the dedication he had previously. He kept you simmering in pleasure but held off the real heat of bliss for now. Little sounds of delight still come from you every so often, but they're muffled around his girth.

You start increasing the speed of your head and tighten the suction of your mouth a bit. It’s his turn to let his head fall back. His thumb weakly rubs up and down your pussy while he enjoys the feeling of you sucking him off.

“Fuck, dolly,” he groans, “That’s it. Such a good girl.”

You suck more, feeling like you can actually do this. You’re drooling all over his cock, eyes going glossy like they always did when you had nothing on the brain but Toji. Your lips smack around the tip haphazardly before you take it down your throat again. You hold your breath for a moment, letting him enjoy your throat. You then rise up again before bobbing your head with the most fervor you can muster.

His hips twitch a bit, and he chokes out some moans against your dripping cunt. He starts increasing the pressure of his mouth, wanting to make you cum once more with him. Your hips tremble, but you’re determined. If you didn’t get it now, you figured you’d be spending the night with his head between your thighs.

“You’re gonna make daddy cum, doll. Fuck,” he mutters, “Actin’ like a perfect slut just for me.”

You lick his cock from the base to the tip, flattening your tongue and trying to hit every sensitive spot he had. His fingers dig into the plump of your ass more. You could feel little marks forming on your skin, but they only spurred you on.

“That’s my little girl. That’s what that mouth was made for,” he breathes.

Whimpering and twitching, you take him as deep as you can again.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts. His hips snap up a bit as he shoots his load down your throat. You can practically feel the rumbling of his groans against your tummy. They rise in his chest and seep out against your entrance as he continues fucking his tongue into you. You take in deep breaths through your nose as he works you to one more release. It’s not as intense as the first two, but the dull pleasure is still one of the best feelings you’ve experienced. 

You swallow every drop of cum he gives you before pulling off him for the final time. A string of saliva still connects you with his shiny tip as your head collapses onto him.

He takes a deep breath before lifting you up and spinning you around like it’s nothing. Your head now rests against his chest where you can listen to the thundering of his heart. He hums with satisfaction and rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Did I do good, daddy?” you mumble.

He looks down at you and the slow way you blink when you’ve cum a few times.

“Yeah, babydoll. You did as much as you could,” he says with a little smirk.

You pop your head up at the playful jab. “I tried. It’s not my fault you’re like… so good at that,” you say and shoot him a look.

“Sure, sure. I guess we’ll just have to keep practicing till you get better at it, hm?” he teases.

You nod before leaning in and kissing him. The both of you part your lips to deepen the exchange, tasting one another in the other’s mouth.

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ Brat ୨୧

pairing: Rick Grimes ♡︎ fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ use of daddy, one spank, dom/sun dynamic, multiple orgasms, pure filth tbh, reader acts helpless on purpose, brat tamer vibes

summary: ʚ Rick forgets your anniversary and he makes it up to you ɞ

Words: 2432

SUPPORT ME

You had your arms crossed a pouty look on your face. Rick rolled his eyes slightly, standing behind you. “Darlin’ please I-I never meant to hurt you,” he said, sitting behind you.

One leg on either side of the picnic bench. His rough strong hands land on the sides of your arms. You let out a frustrated whine, moving forward away from his touch.

“Y/n I didn't realise what day it was I promise I didn't go on the run to hurt you. I just didn't know what day it was,” he said slowly pressing his body up against yours.

You were in the cutest of dresses, your hair done up decently nice (considering it was the apocalypse) even made some of that homemade makeup bullshit.

You look like the cutest most beautiful thing Rick has ever laid his eyes on ever. Had it been normal life and he forgot your anniversary, sure he wouldn't mind you being a brat about it.

But this wasn't normal life. Not everyone had access to a calendar anymore, and sure some people kept track but Rick didn't. And he sure as hell was surprised you did. He knew it was coming up.

It was that time of year again, the spring. “Come on y/n don't be such a brat,” he murmured in your ear. You turned away from his face still giving him the silent treatment.

He let out a deep sigh not having the time to fight with you. “Alright listen this is what we're gonna do. I'm gonna go out and pick up your gift and when I come back I expect you to have left that attitude somewhere else. Do you understand me?” he said in a stern voice.

His hands slightly tightened on your soft flesh. It sent a shiver up your spine and heat to your core. “Fine,” you muttered out. Moving away from him, standing up, and walking to your shared room.

Rick licked his lips, “Alright. I'll be back soon.” he muttered, gripping the door handle and leaving the house.

It wasn't until a few hours later that Rick showed back up in the house you both called home. Slicked back hair, a new shirt, some new lingerie, and a bundle of flowers. He strained his back and walked down the hall.

He looked into your room to see you reading a book lying on your stomach. He lifts the hand holding the flowers up and uses his knuckle to knock on the open door.

You turned around greeting him with a much happier-looking face. You set the book on the nightstand and turned around slightly. You slowly bite your lips looking at your new gifts.

“Well hey there pretty girl,” he says setting the flowers and gifts down on the other nightstand. You let out a small chuckle, letting him crawl into the bed basically on top of you.

“How are you? Less bratty now? Yeah?” he mumbled moving a piece of hair out of your face. You nod with a simple pretty smile that could send Rick down to his knees. He cups the right side of your face leaning down to kiss you on your forehead.

He leans back up eyeing your figure in the tight-fitting dress. You feel your cheeks begin to warm under his gaze. His hand slides down to your lips parting them slightly.

He brushes them slightly sending heat waves to your core. “So beautiful…” Rick whispers looking at your face. His hand slides down further to your jaw, turning your head right and left.

“Sit up on the pillows.” your husband murmurs, moving off the bed completely. You obey scooting up to your pillows and sitting, letting your legs fall open slightly.

Rick stands on the edge of the foot of the bed, hands placed on each end of the bed looking down at you. His eyes were dominantly dark, you wanted to squirm under his gaze.

Rick stands back up tall shedding his shirt off. You rake in his form. God, he was beautiful. Scars littered his chest, and a good patch of hair as well as his happy trail led to the thing you wanted in you most.

“You ready? You want this?” he asks looking at you, a deep look of love in his eyes. You knew that if you said yes this would be the last time you would see that look for hours. Complete domination of a man would overtake him.

And you wanted nothing more than that.

“Yes…daddy” you murmur with a smug grin. He cocks his head to the right slightly. He grabs the comforter of the bed shaking your entire body with a swift move. You let out a gasp.

Rick grabs your hips and thighs and drags you down flush to his body. Feeling a small bulge growing in his pants. You try and wiggle out of his touch, squirming left and right.

Ricks's hand comes down on your hands and arms, “Quit moving brat.” he whispers in a deeply threatening tone. You give him a pout of sadness but you're so turned on.

You felt your sex start leaking with arousal. Letting out a whine of protest lets Rick know that you're far from done being bratty. He leans down kissing and teasing your neck.

His rough lips moved up and down your sensitive skin, nibbling on your jaw slightly. The flat of his tongue dragged up. You moan out trying to buck your hips into him.

His left hand slams down on your hips keeping you in place. “Rick!” you whine out trying to tease him more. He pulls away from your neck and shifts his knee in between your legs putting it right on your unclothed heat.

After Rick left for your gifts you thought it would be a good idea to go completely commando. You realize that it's gonna give you a lot more trouble than it might have been worth.

Rick's knee pressing evenly on your clit wasn't exactly what you needed or wanted but it sure as hell wasn't nothing. Your count began drooling all over him as he moved his hand off your hip and above your head stabilizing himself to bring his left hand to your jaw and neck.

His fingers slip around the sides of your neck squeezing it. You let slip another moan this one getting trapped in his mouth as he leans down kissing you roughly.

His dick straining heavily in his pants at the sight and sounds of you. God, you were a beautiful soul. It was like your body was hand-carved for him. He hoped only to bring you an ounce of the pleasure you gave him daily.

“Rick please…” and you whine out, his teeth clashing against his. Maybe being a brat wasn't such a good idea. You couldn't help it. You wanted all of his attention to yourself. A mean and rough man to take care of you.

Ricks's hand leaves your neck and lands on your face in a smack. You whine, pressing down on his knee, feeling a small wave of pleasure.

Your husband sits up, pushing your dress up to your stomach. Revealing your bare cunt leaking on his pants. “Oh what a poor little brat,” he says, fingers slowly moving to your cunt. He gingerly spreads it open revealing just how wet you were.

“This what's been troubling you?” he asks sticking one of his digits into your sopping arousal. “Mhm!” you nod eagerly. “That's what's been making you such a little bratty girl? Just a needy cunt?” he says in such a mocking tone.

“God no wonder you've been all bratty huh? Needed some good loving didn't you?” he whispers.

His rough voice plus his small ministrations were slowly filling your body with warmth and tingles. “M sorry Daddy,” you admit, trying to grind down on his finger. “Baby girl, why didn't you use your big girl voice and tell me huh? You know I'm always willing to help you right?” he says slipping a second finger in, starting to move even faster.

His thumb presses on your clit starting to rub just how you like it. “M said I was sorry Daddy! You forgot about me n I just wanted you!” you whined. “I know baby I know,” he says keeping his pass, rubbing harder on your sensitive button.

You felt the familiar feeling in your tummy pool, a coil waiting to snap. It felt like pleasure was in your bones, deep-seated love planted by your husband. “You feel so good, m gonna cum.” you whimper letting the pleasure slowly start to take over.

“Good girl, come on baby,” Rick says leaning down again and kissing up and down your neck/ jaw. The coil was threatening to snap, as his fingers pumped in and out, curling to your G spot.

“Oh my god.” you breathe out. Your back arches as your cunt clenches on his fingers. Tingling waves of heat tracked through your whole body.

Your visions dimmed and faded out for a few moments when your breath returned to a more normal pace. By the time you noticed, you felt Ricks's tongue slowly licking up your leaking juices.

“Poor thing, well that's all she needed huh?” he teased you, hands gripping your thighs. You moaned as he barely let your sensitive cunt recover.

His warm tongue moved and curled to your G spot as he moved a hand to finish rubbing your clit. You moaned his name like it was a prayer. Begging to keep going. Your second orgasm came quicker than the first one, between the lewd sounds of Rick eating you out like you were his last meal and his death grip on you; you didn't last long.

You grabbed the sheets, as you started to grind down on his face trying to feel every inch of him possible. “M gonna cum again, please,” you begged, again feeling your body teetering on the edge.

He pulls away keeping his moving fingers on your clit. “Do it. Do it for me,” he says, his words vibrating into your greedy cunt. “Mm, fuck.” you whined. You were sure your poor neighbors were going to complain.

Your orgasm washes over you, feeling your legs shake with the sheer force of your husband's desire. He slowly stopped his movements, pulling away.

His face is covered in your liquid, his hair sleek with a shine from sweat. You looked up at him, body on fire as your breathing returned to normal.

“You alright there y/n?” he asks looking at your almost dazed sight. You nodded ‘yes’ watching as he slowly undid his belt. Letting his pants fall seeing his, what must be a painfully hard erection.

He pulls his boxers down, his dick slapping his stomach once it sprang back up. Your eyes flutter a little looking at his being cock. It was so perfect, almost made for you it seemed.

“Sit up, take your dress off the rest of the way,” he says pumping his cock a few times to get it ready for your needy cunt. You giggle as you follow his directions. Sitting up removing the dress.

You toss it on the floor next to you. Eyeing up your husband, licking your lips slightly taking in the sight of his naked and erect body. You let your legs fall open, revealing your most intimate part of yourself to him.

“Get over here” he barks once again grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him. You giggle looking up at him, “Oh you think something is funny huh?” he asks, pumping his needy cock with his hand.

“Mm nooooo..” you giggle out biting your fingernail. “S’ what I thought,” he says, grabbing your hand and putting it on your clit instructing you to rub. You obey as you prepare yourself for his cock.

He brings the tip up to your entrance, moving in slightly. Feeling his tip press into you. You gasp in the slight stinging sensation it brings, taking your hand off your body and gripping the sheets.

“I know honey, I know. Just hold tight for a second ok? Almost all the way in.” he says continuing his plummet into your body. You nod angling your hips so he can slide into the deepest part of you.

He makes it all the way in as you both moan out for each other. “Fuck.” he mutters, once again moving your hand back down to have you rub your clit.

He begins pumping in and out of you, slowly of course at first. Feeling your pleasure return for your third orgasm. “Rick,” you whimper out bringing your unoccupied hand to his hair. He follows suit plunging his hand into your hair, mouth roughly kissing you.

His body was flushed with red, as he pumped inside of you slowly coming to his own end of pleasure. You couldn't take it anymore letting your orgasm cleanse through you like a prayer. Your back arched, cunt squeezing him perfectly.

Rick closed his eyes pulling away from your mouth and letting his head rest on your neck. He felt your rapid breaths cool slowly as he quickly fucked himself to his own release.

Letting out a grunted moan as his hot white load shoots into you. He pulls out of you and lets his body rest on top of yours. You left your head kissing his forehead.

He lifts his own head smiling up at you, “there is my pretty girl huh? Just needed the brat fucked out of you.” he taunted you. But just like you knew his eyes weren't dark with dominance anymore, just love filled them.

He stands up walks into the restroom grabs a towel, cleans himself up then gingerly cleans your exhausted sex.

He holds his hand out helping you walk to the restroom, where you clean yourself off completely and use the restroom. When you open the door you're greeted with a halfway-dressed Rick.

With a pair of comfy pants on but no shirt. He hands you an oversized tee shirt with a pair of comfy panties. You smiled pulling them on, resting in the comfortable silence with him. His hands wrap around your waist holding you close to him.

His mouth is attached to yours slowly letting his love for you spill out. Both of you collapse in the bed under the covers to cuddle, his warm rough hands rubbing your body as he encourages you to drink some water.

“Happy anniversary baby.”

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Glimpse of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

previous part | masterlist | next part

Chapter I

The moment you both walked onto the train, Finnick wanted to yell at you, he wanted to yell at you and tell you shouldn’t have volunteered, he wanted to yell at you and tell you that you should’ve let Annie come that he would’ve protected her. He wanted to. He really did. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

He sat on the lavish couch, patting a spot next to him signaling for you to sit down next to him.

As you did, he pulled you close and placed a soft kiss atop your forehead.

He feels you settle into his touch, exhaling a small breath of air as you do., “I know- I know you must be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you angel…” he says in a soothing tone as he strokes your hair. “I’m just…”

“Mad, upset, angry?” “No.” “Well…I know you aren’t happy.”

Finnick sighs, “I’m not… thrilled. It’s just- why volunteer?”

“Finnick you and I both know that if Annie went back in, she would be a complete mess.”

“Angel we aren’t talking about Annie, we’re talking about you. You were out of harms way, you didn’t have to volunteer…why did you do it?”

“I didn��t want you to do this alone Finny…I couldn’t.”

He cups your cheeks and gently peppers in with loving kisses. “My sweet girl…” he whispers to you.

But just as quickly as the sweet moment between the two of you began, it ended quickly the moment your Capitol Escort, Lyssandra Marlowe barge into the train cart with your teams of stylist, causing Finnick and yourself to jump and sit up right on the couch.

“Ah there they are! My two favorite victors!” Lyssandra says in her sickeningly sweet voice as she approaches the couch. “Finnick, handsome as ever and- ah! My, my haven’t you grown into such a beautiful young lady! I feel like it was just yesterday that I was meeting that little district four girl for the very first time!”

Finnick couldn’t deny it either, you had grown into a gorgeous young lady. He would never forget the first day he met you.

****

They had told Finnick you were sixteen, but you looked like you were fourteen. He had known you, well not known known, just, known of you since you both lived by the same docking area. He knew your mother was some sort of medic/healer, he knew that your father was a fisherman like his father, and he knew that you had one older brother about 2 years older than him. He knew that your chances of wining were slim.

But that wouldn’t make him give up on you.

****

Finnick and you both stood side by side as your Escort fawned over all the opening ceremony preparations.

“What are the chances that she’ll end up talking herself to death…” he whispers into your ear playfully, laughing as he felt you lightly hit his chest.

Thankfully, she and the teams of stylists were quick to leave, allowing you and Finnick peace again.

He tugs you back over to the couch, flashing a boyish smile as you giggle.

Once he has you lying next to him, he runs his fingers through your hair, his touch loving and tender.

“What are we gonna do Finnick?” you whisper to him. Finnick sighs, “I don’t know angel….I don’t know.”

“You think…You think there’s a way we could both come out alive?”

Finnick could hear the tears in your voice, he genuinely didn’t know, he wanted to tell you there was a chance. But he didn’t know. “I don’t know…But I won’t let anyone hurt you angel,” he whispers as he presses a kiss onto your forehead. “I’ll kill anyone before they do.”

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

Before you knew it, the train begins to approach the Capitol.

You could both hear the screaming and cheering of the citizens from inside the train. A sound neither of you were fond of.

“Once we get you two off this train we’ll take you to get all prettied up and fabulous” Lyssandra says as she fixes her dramatic aqua blue eyeliner.

The train came to a full stop. The screeching sound of the people filled your ears and Finnick’s. You stand and peak out the window, Finnick could tell that you felt an uneasiness in your stomach, a feeling you always had whenever you came to the Capitol. But you weren’t here for anything like…that. He comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“It’ll be alright. I’m gonna be right next to you” he whispers as he kisses your cheek.

The train doors open, you and Finnick exchange a loving look before walking out and onto the platform.

You both fake smiles and wave to the people. As you both did, Finnick could feel you tense up. He quickly looked over at you and realized you were looking at something…someone. His eyes followed your gaze and realized who you were looking at. A group of men giving you lustful looks. Clients of yours. He protectively puts his arm around your waist and holds you close. Finally, two peacekeepers and Lyssandra begin to escort you both to the Tribute center.

The moment you two are inside, you are ushered upstairs to have a quick dinner, and then separated and taken to different preparation rooms.

Finnick could hear your stylists fussing over every little detail. He could hear them gushing over your gorgeous features and could hear them talk about how they’ll miss you so much once you enter the arena. He was getting the same treatment, although he hoped that the stylists weren’t being as gropey with you as they were with him.

And he prayed that your costume covered more than what his did.

But of course it didn’t.

When he saw you…his heart nearly stopped.

You looked gorgeous, that was no lie. But he wanted to be the only one to see you in an outfit like that.

He smiles warmly as you walk over to him.

“So…how ridiculous do I look now?”

He laughs looks you up and down, “Not ridiculous at all, you look beautiful.”

You laugh and nudge Finnick, “You don’t look to bad yourself.” Finnick laughs and rolls his eyes. You both keep talking amongst yourselves, then both of your attentions turn to elsewhere when you hear cheers.

Katniss Everdeen.

You tilt your head to get a better look, “You should go talk to her”

Finnick gives you a ‘are you serious look’ and groans.

“Come on Finn, you and I both know we can’t go into this without any allies”

Finnick sighs, “Yea, I know…”he says in an annoyed voice as he swipes a few sugar cubes and makes his way over to Katniss. While Finnick speaks with Katniss, he looks over his shoulder for a moment and sees you chatting with Peeta Mellark. he doesn’t know why, but he feels the tiniest bit of jealousy, although he brushes it off.

When he returns to you, he strokes the mane of the beautiful black horse as he stands next to you.

“You ready?” he says in a gentle whisper.

“No”

His lips quirk in a small smile, “Me either, but…at least we’re in this together,” he says as he brings up your hand to his lips.

He sees you smile, which causes him to smile wider.

You both then hear the announcement for the Victors to step onto their chariots.

“Show time” Finnick says with a grin.

You sigh and nod as you step onto the chariot.

Once the horses begin to move, you and Finnick immediately intertwine pinkies, the simple gesture brings both of you a small feeling of peace. You start to hear rhythmic thumping of the drums, the screams and cheers of the Capitol people fill your ears. It’s a sound neither you nor Finnick want to hear. It’s a sound that feels like a taunt. A taunt that reminds you that you both belong to the Capitol.

As you approach the roundabout, you and Finnick both lock eyes with Snow who is warmly smiling at you both.

He had taken away the one thing you and Finnick found solace in. He had taken away your domesticity. He had taken away your normalcy. And he had the audacity to smile at you two like he hadn’t done anything.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

When you both get back to the Tribute Center, you notice Haymitch hanging around by the elevator. You give him a friendly smile, “Haymitch, nice to see you again.”

Haymitch nods, “Nice to see you two too” he says, his speech the slightest bit slurred.

You and Finnnick both knew what Haymitch had gone through over the years. Even though you both had been used by the Capitol, you both were thankful you had eachother, Haymitch had nearly no one before Peeta and Katniss.

“You look good, Haymitch” Finnick says with a smile.

“Hey thanks Finnick, means a lot coming from you, anyways, let’s skip the pleasantries and I’ll tell you both what I need.”

You and Finnick both exchange a look, then you both look back at Haymitch with expecting looks, urging him to keep talking. He looks around for a moment, then leans close to you both.

“There is a plan being put into place as we speak. A plan to get Katniss, Peeta and others out of the arena. Beetee is in on it, so that means Wiress is in too. Now, I know this seems, impossible to say the least, but we have someone very important on our side. Someone that makes this whole thing possible.”

You furrows your brows together, “And…who is this person?”

Haymitch looks around once more and then leans in closer, “Plutarch Heavensbee.”

You and Finnick now have a look of surprise on your faces.

“Plutarch Heavens- The game maker? He’s on- our side?” Finnick says in surprise.

Haymitch motions for Finnick to keep his voice down, “Keep your voice down, but yes. Plutarch. Now, the reason I’m telling you both all this is because I want to know if you guys want in. Not everyone knows, this is very under wraps. If you guys agree, you both have a good chance of getting out of the arena together. Alive.”

Finnick blinks in surprise. He could leave the arena with you, unharmed. You both could get your lives back. But…

“What’s the catch?”

“You both just have to gain Katniss’ trust. And keep her and Peeta protected in the arena. And stay alive, obviously. Then when the time comes, Plutarch has a plan to get you all out and safe.”

Finnick looks at you, you nod.

“We’re in.”

Haymitch claps his hands together, “Great!”

“Can we tell Johanna too?” you whisper.

“She’s always…been there for us.”

Haymitch nods, “Course we can, let’s just hope our…girl on fire realizes she can trust all of you.”

You and Finnick both nod, now feeling like there’s a little glimmer of hope that you can both make it out alive.

“Well I’ll leave you two love birds alone now, go enjoy your night!” Haymitch says as the elevator opens. Finnick laughs and steps onto the elevator, hand and hand with you. The ride up to the District 4 area is quick and quiet.

Once you are both in the main bedroom, Finnick plops on the bed and drags you down with him. You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the small moment of peace and silence.

“You really think we’ll be able to get out of the arena together?”

Finnick kisses your forehead, “I really hope so.”

You both end up falling asleep in eachother’s embrace, the flicker of hope burning in both your hearts.

a/n: WOW ITS OUT. thank you all so much for your patience! i dunno why but like i feel like i over thought about how this chapter should go. i kept seeing other fics that have much longer chapters and i think i freaked myself out by thinking i HAVE to write long chapters when really, im more comfortable writing shorter chapters! (and i hope you guys r okay with this too 😰) uhhh trying to think what else to type, OH.

my asks/requests are currently CLOSED due to a bunch of stuff that is supposedly going to happen, apparently a group of people are going to be leaving a bunch of disturbing pictures in inboxes so I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend that if anyone has their asks open to just close them for a few weeks til everything settles down.

ANYWAYS, working on a new chapter of wfyl (my billy fic) so keep a lookout for that and im going to FINALLY tackle my asks since my inbox is closed so i can focus on what i have currently.

ALSO THANK TOU SO MUCH FOR 126 FOLLOWS??? WHAT WHERE DID ALL OF YOU COME FROM AHHHH I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

[nemisuki]

Morning Routine

Third year AU | From being childhood friends to being third years in UA High School… she never would’ve expected her life would revolve around waking up next to Katsuki Bakugo. The boy she’s known since she was small. Yet here she is, next to an unexpectedly soft boy whose goal is now, not only to be the number one hero. But to be her hero.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, fluff, bkg is a secret softie, small mentions of past nsfw if you squint, physical touch, 1.1k word count 

“What are you smiling at?” He grumbles, turning to face you as you laid on his dorm bed, his fingers brushing your arm. 

He knew he wasn't supposed to be there with you, he was supposed to be training with the idiots — instead, he chose to be with you. 

He often trained alone but the morons wanted to tag along, mainly just trying to have him buy them ice cream after their jog. He was supposed to meet them an hour ago.

Katsuki Bakugo actually ignored his morning training for some girl. What has the world come to.

Her gentle eyes meet those gorgeous pools of red. Pure red. Like gemstones. Oh how she loved his eyes.

“I’m just happy” she says in a mumble, followed shortly by a soft hum. 

She won’t ever get over waking up with him in the mornings. Sneaking into his dorm room late at night despite it being against the rules.

His bed was different then hers. Warmer. Inviting. Or maybe it was him. 

Whenever she tries snuggling against his chest, he immediately holds her. In the beginning he protested, spouting off about how he’s not the mushy type. 

Yet as time went on, he never won that argument. So eventually, he gave up and ended up holding her every time she came over and slid into his bed. It developed into a habit.

Now he can’t seem to let her go, his personal pillow. While he’s her personal heater. His quirk makes his body warmer than others.

“Whatever” he sighed, his arms wrapping around your waist as he practically pulled you on top of him, sprawled over him. His fingers tracing along your skin in gentle circles.

“They’re gonna be wondering where I was, y’know..” he mutters, burying his face into your neck and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Her scent mixed in with the scent of his body wash to which she used to shower last night.

“They’ll live… it’s not a crime for you to miss a morning jog” she says, peppering gentle kisses on his cheeks. 

If she did this months ago, he would be as stiff as a rock as she showered him with physical affection. Now being 3rd years in UA, he’s learned to accept her gentle touches.

“Mm, maybe not, but it certainly does raise some eyebrows,” he says, tilting his head to catch your lips on his.

He leaned up to kiss you properly, his hand gripping your hip to keep you in place. He had a point — the last thing you needed right now was people getting suspicious of whatever was going on between you two.

But she can't help but be a bit selfish, wanting him for herself. How can she help it when he’s so perfect?

Her eyes flutter close as his lips meet hers. He’s such a feisty person, yet his touches are always so soft. 

She smiles as the blonde barely pulls his lips away from her, giving her a final peck then letting his head fall back against the pillow. Still holding her close to his chest. 

Out of curiosity, she looks at the clock on his nightstand. Seeing the red digits read 8:30 AM. Realization dawns upon her and she quickly looks down at Bakugo. Whose eyes are still roaming across her facial features.

“Katsuki we have to go down and have breakfast!”

“And I should hurry because….?” he replies back with his usual gruff expression.

“Oh c'mon there’s pancakes and if we don’t go now then the others are bound to finish them!”

Bakugo groaned again, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“God damn it,” he mumbles, still not wanting to move. “M’tired from last night and I wanna stay in bed.”

“Cmon cmon get up! Say do you have any of my clothes from last time I slept over? I would go to my room but Mina might spot me” she smiles looking down at him.

He gestured to the top drawer in the dresser.

“You always leave something behind when you stay over so that drawer is where I put all your stuff. I also bought you some things you may need if you're ever here. It’s your drawer from now on.”

“Ah I see, my own little space in your room…” she says with a brighter expression. 

She would be lying if she didn’t say that made her heart clench with joy. She looks in it and spots the organized little sections. 

Some old clothes she’s left behind that are neatly folded along with occasional jewelry she left here by accident. He even put some of her makeup in here that she forgot to take with her back to her room. 

Y/N feels a warm sensation fill her body when she sees some hygiene products he must’ve bought. Some tampons and ibuprofen.

She smiles to herself thinking about him buying these things at the store. Despite his tough exterior, he never judged her for these things.

God she loves him.

Despite not wanting to get out of bed, Bakugo laid there and watched you change. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in the sight of you. 

His eyes tracing your figure, even though he’d seen your body plenty of times before. There’s never a day he gets bored from watching you.

She spots him from the mirror and smiles softly “you're staring…” she says in a gentle whisper.

“How can I not, you're my girlfriend” he says straight faced in response, sitting up and leaning against the pillows, “C’mere for a second."

She hums in response and finishes changing, “what is it?” she says, walking over.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer until you were in between his legs. Resting his forehead against your chest. “Just let me have a few more minutes, before we have to get up and deal with those idiots.”

She smiles at his words and wraps her arms around him.

He grumbles into your chest. “Hate that we gotta hide this from the others, pisses me off.” He pulled you down to sit in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. Staying in that position for a few minutes til Y/N spoke up, “c'mon we have to go ‘suki.”

“Fine,” he groaned, his hands moving to rest on your hips. “You get going first, I’ll wait five minutes and then follow after you.”

She smiles and nods, unable to stop admiring his face. He’s so pretty. She sighs and pecks his lips, unable to resist, “I love you.”

It took him a moment but…

“Love you, too” he hummed, his hand snaking up the back of your neck and into your hair, holding you close for another kiss. “Now get going before I’m tempted to keep you here all day.”

She giggles and is on her feet as she exits his room. Before she decides to stay in bed with him after all.

Y/N is not usually a morning person but maybe she is now.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦